#it's so gentle and i love how airy and light the art is

[hiraeth-sonder]

Kept Dove - Purgatorio

Yan!Sunday x Reader

Even if a bird with clipped wings can only fly so far, it is a freedom nonetheless

TW: pseudo-incest, suicidal behaviour, stalking, general manipulative and toxic behaviour

//Characters may be OOC, please go easy on my glass heart. Spoilers for the 2.0 story quest but also I may not remember things correctly so- Not at all accurate to future patches/lore. Excerpts from the Song of Songs.

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Through veiled curtains and under warm lights, you tug your socks up with a careful hand, your eyes tracking the movement through the large mirror across you. The soft sheer fabric ascends your leg, trailing up and up until it reaches exactly above your knee. Just the slightest askew, you check once more, turning your leg and watching how the edge on your inner leg dips down, sneaking your finger under the garter to readjust its height. When deemed satisfactory, you reach for your sock garters, clipping the metal fasteners onto the ends as the upper ends hang limply by the side of your leg. You do the same meticulous routine for your right leg, putting your legs together to ensure that they are perfectly even. 

Hung on a hanger was a blouse, with no evidence of wrinkles or lint. Gingerly, you slip it off and let the cool fabric caress your bare skin, once again peering into the mirror to straighten the ends only to carefully push every little fabric-covered button through equally miniscule openings. It hugs your form perfectly when finished, tailor made to adhere to your body like a second skin, with bishop sleeves to be held together with custom cufflinks. You do so, deft fingers piercing the fabric with the golden optics before clipping the ends of the shirt with the once hanging garters. 

Your skirt comes next, prudent and pure. You step into it and bend ever so slightly, bringing it up to your waist to fasten the button that would keep it closed. It is only now that you pad across soft carpet towards your lineup of shoes, from sensible flats to respectable high heels, of shined leather to patent, fit for any occasion. You hook the backs of a pair of heels with your fingers, making your way back to your vanity to slip them on. It is now that you turn your attention to the perfumes decorating the front of the gilded mirror, each of them gifts handpicked by your siblings, bottles easily distinguished by your sister’s fondness for winsome designs and your brother’s partiality for elegance. You uncap a lacquered white glass bottle, the airy and floral aroma that comes from the nozzle is one of their favourites.

There is a light knock at your door, a gentle rap of knuckles against hardwood. It is merely a courtesy, he has no real need to announce his presence when you have long known he would come. Your eyes do not even have to glance at the ticking clock, the knowledge of the minute hand’s exact position of twenty minutes to eight a matter you have grown familiar with over the years. 

“Come in.”

Familiar, practised steps barely sound through your room, a few strides until a silhouette appears behind you. Letting out a soft breath, your eyelids flutter close as you turn your head away from the mirror. “I’m afraid you have little to help with today.”

“I merely wanted to check on you,” Your brother’s voice is delicate, even in your mind there is a kindness to his lilting rise. 

A sigh escapes your lips. ‘Check on you’ can mean all matters of things, whether it truly does entail merely checking on you is a test only known to him. Your eyes open upon the slightest hint of movement, watching through the mirror as gloved hands pull your hair back, reaching for a tie to bundle it up into a half-bun. The action in itself is practised and skilled, moreso a reminder of how many times he has performed such on the women of his life, it sends an inexplicable grief aching in your heart. 

He lowers himself to your level, and as the warm lights cast an intimate gleam upon his features, you get the day’s first look of your brother. Golden eyes softened in gentle fondness, or perhaps some amalgamation of it, cool steel locks lay in perfect formation as his soft wings unfurl to reveal his stately countenance. There is a soft smile pulled across his lips, yet for some reason you must wonder why that tightness in your chest exists so. 

“Happy?” You manage to croak out, still fraught with his full attention on you. 

Sunday tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, clearly admiring his work as he hums, “Very much so, you look quite comely like this.”

You glance at yourself in the very mirror that has aided your preparation, the small wings at the back of your ears hang downward in some odd shame, the sharp tips of your halo glinting with a keen shine. The dark wings flutter lightly, and that recurring shame seems to bubble back to the top of your mind everytime you are reminded of their existence. A corvid among songbird and dove, a stain in their otherwise blemishless perfection. A pathetic excuse for a halovian, you had little sway, little influence, little image. Your very existence was a means to uphold their depiction. 

You were just the child taken pity upon, the mutt picked up from the side of the road to house and feed. Thus, you are an extension of them, whatever you do, however you look, it all went back to them. You sometimes wonder whether they know how much you pale in comparison to their light. 

All too quick to shove such a treacherous thought to the back of your head, it would be a cold day in hell before someone pries that thought from your brain. He casts you an inquisitive gaze, one you wave off with your ascent from the chair. Your steps, three steps slower, accompany his longer strides, padding out from soft carpet to thudding wood. 

Leaving the mansion is always some arduous task, and you suppose that there is no one to blame but your brother for all the fuss that needs to be sorted out. Twisting hallways, confounding rooms, even the little sandpit of the Golden Hour, it made it so that leaving required his notice, lest you end up arbitrarily lost. Of course, this also meant that you were severely limited in the times you got to leave the mansion, since he always had so much to attend to in the day. And it is not like you refuse to learn, but rather that you cannot learn its ways that you remain unaware. Furthermore, it is exactly because that he does so much that you find it hard to even bring up your grievances about such a matter, how could you? So even if you yearn to see the world far beyond what he has allowed you to see, you very often keep your mouth shut and play at content. 

As you emerge from those familiar depths, a wing raises itself to shield your eyes from the sudden influx of bright lights. Penacony, the city of dreams they call it, but to you, it has been nothing more than an incandescent lie. Why else would your sister leave?  

It is then you see her, with her flowing light blue hair and her familiar visage. Her attire remains the same as all the advertisements you see with her face plastered on them, her halo tilted to the right and the gems under her left eye in flawless position. Yet, in your heart, your most sincerest of affections borne from years of companionship, you know that it is not her. There is nothing that would infer this thought, the locum in front of you a perfect copy in all matters, but you cannot help but deny the image in front of you.

Turning to Sunday, a slip of your true thoughts revealed through the furrow of your brow, “Who is this?”

“A fool, nothing more,” He spares you a glance, but says nothing else. 

“Will she listen?”

It is only then you manage to meet his gaze, not a second more and not a second less, his voice is placid, revealing nothing even now, “You trust me, no?”

“Of course, but I just worry…” Your plea seems to go unheard, and you wonder whether you were even meant to come along if it meant you would only receive this kind of treatment. 

“Shall we depart?” He offers to the ‘Robin’ in front of you, dignified courtesy and trained care. You remain behind, watching on. His voice rings in your head, the only part of him you get, “Fret not, dear sister, all will be well.”

In your heart, something twinges with an acrid twist. Though this ‘Robin’ is clearly some cheat, he still treats her the same, still has that leak of affection. You have always known that he never took to you the same way she did, he could try to play at siblingly affection, could try to interact with you the same way he did her, but you knew that he never meant it. The daily check-ups, the gifts, the occasional contact, it all means nothing to him, and in the end, is that not what he does best? Lying with a sweet smile on his face, tempting you with a delusion all the while he wishes for nothing but your descent. The only one he could never perform such deeds to was his own sister.

Yet even in front of a fool, with the face of your sister, you could feel no hatred towards her. Because she has never done anything to warrant such, not when this dream of theirs is one you have done everything to uphold, not when she might have been the only light in your life. So even if what stands before you is a fake, even if you do not know what your brother has planned, you will keep your mouth and play at content. 

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

In the end, he had never even told you where the day’s itinerary would take you, so when you had found yourself in reality’s Reverie Hotel and met with an interesting situation, you had much to restrain from expressing. A group of four people you have never truly seen before and a man from the IPC, seemingly engaged in a difficult matter. They do not seem to notice your approaching footfalls, neither does Alley.

“Alley, just a moment,” Sunday speaks up, gentle yet assertive

“The Family cannot allow guests to enter a dream while bearing burdens.”

The crowd, now aware of your presence, shifts their attention. The grey-haired youth catches your attention, so clearly out of place yet seemingly intertwined, you can only ponder why. Still, it is not as if their gazes remain on you, rather it would be more accurate to say that they were never on you in the first place, positively enraptured by the natural radiance 

“Speak of the devil, look who's here! It's Sunday, the most handsome man in Penacony! Along with the singer renowned across the universe: Robin!” The blond, who you vaguely recognise as hailing from the IPC introduces the two of them with a flair, clearly playing up the flattery. 

‘Robin’ turns to face him, an amused smile playing at her lips as her eyes crinkle in mirth, “He said you were the most dashing person in Penacony, how interesting.”

An older man and a red-haired woman stand before you, their expressions shifting to alert, yet they are paid no mind. 

“I’ve kept you waiting, Mr. Aventurine. This way please, let us speak in private,” Your brother offers, a request that is taken with a courteous quirk of the blond’s lips. 

Your ‘sister’ instead takes charge of caring for the rest of the guests, “Astral Express guests, please come this way and rest your feet.”

It is by now that you have completely mentally checked out of the situation, your presence clearly not noticed nor ignored. Though you yearned to return and perhaps sleep the rest of the day away, your feet automatically flanked the guests of the Astral Express so as to guide them, your eyes following after the grey-haired youth who seemed to yearn to run after Aventurine. Oddly, they do not do so, obediently following after the pink-haired woman. 

You keep your posture perfect and your expression pleasant, not quite hearing but watching, eyes tracking lips so as to turn your perceived attention to whomever was speaking at present. Your ‘sister’ still enraptures, no matter the truth of her nature. Your ears pick up the vague mention of an apology, her hand held to her chest in polite regret. It is only when the redhead’s lips, a woman you believe is called Himeko, move in a manner that seems to be directed to you that you tune back in, a pleasant smile still painted as you meet her gaze.

“And who’s this? I don’t suppose we’ve met before, have we? Ms..?” She offers, playing at cordiality though it is clear she may be a little on guard.

Your lips move to answer far faster than your mind, practically instinctual. The response you get is kindly, one you are not sure is genuine but it makes your head rush. 

The older man, Welt, calls your name, a sound that feels like it should belong on his tongue. There is a familiarity to it, the kind you would hear from an older relative. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

The rest of them start with their pleasantries, and for some odd reason, your chest tightens with a yearning. You had watched them band together earlier, seen the way they interacted with one another and even through your haze, could all but feel the amity between them. These were people who were bound together by chance, people who have simply decided to become this family and not only played the roles, but might as well be actual family. 

“Thank you, it's a pleasure to meet all of you as well.”

‘Robin’ seems to fade into the background, a sight you are not used to, but this fool’s interest in you is not a matter you are too worried about. Rather, the new-found attention you found yourself under was now almost overwhelming, too much yet not entirely unwelcome. 

“If we’re not overstepping, may I ask how you’re affiliated with Mr. Sunday and Ms. Robin?” Himeko’s voice is sweet in your ears, a soothing sound.

“They’re my siblings, my older brother and younger sister to be exact.”

The pink-haired youth you believe is called March 13th, is almost all too excited at that answer, yet it dies to wonder, “That’s cool! But why haven’t we heard about you before?”

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m merely not as noteworthy as them….” Your play at humility is almost entirely accepted, a notion you are at least glad for. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice your brother’s approach, a signal to return back into the background. With a hand to your chest, you bid your exit, “If you’ll excuse me.”

It is another haze that clouds over you when your brother arrives to slot himself into the conversation, one that once again seems to block out the words spoken. 

“I apologise for taking up everyone's precious time, and we shan't keep you any longer. If you need anything else while in Penacony, The Family stands ready to serve,” He hums, genteel and ever flawless.

‘Robin’ follows suit, her hand to her chest as she continues the courtesy, “May your dreams be beautiful and pleasant.”

Your eyes fall upon the Astral Express, and though your heart knows what can only be imagined can never be brought to reality, you could not help but wish that you had never been brought in to your siblings. Perhaps in another life, perhaps in a dream far more beautiful and pleasant than this one. 

“May your dreams be beautiful and pleasant.”

You were tired, so very tired. If Penacony truly was the world of dreams, yours must be some sick joke for your life to turn out this way. Given this glimpse of what could have been, how could you even bear to keep living in this illusion?

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

 His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

The marble railing is cold against your bare feet, one wrong step and you’ll be sent careening off the side of the building, falling into a never-ending abyss. In the distance, playing on the record player, was the vague lilt of your sister’s voice. You could barely hear it through the wind, yet the very fact that she was there, truly or not, was more than enough. You have all but memorised her every song, humming along as though she was with you.

In a thin nightgown, you have long been free from the confines of your strict dress, hair let loose and face bare. Any matter that once adorned your form has been stripped, left exactly where they belonged in your room as your legs danced along to the melody. Chasse, a whisk and a natural turn, your arms wrapped around some imaginary partner, it all came to you without little thought, merely letting the music guide your form. You have never danced before, never thought yourself fit to, only read about the basics in a book a time forgotten, but you think you enjoy it. Perhaps in your next life you will be a dancer, no matter the fame, it would be something you could do without fear of tarnishing another’s image. 

Caught in your reverie, you are scarce to hear the knock on your door, the heave of heavy wood and the quick steps to the open balcony. Through the flowing curtains and under the starry night, your brother still looked nothing more than empyrean, regardless of the unnerved furrow of his brow and the dilation of his pupils. You do not stop from your actions, continuing to let your body move along the wind.

“What are you doing?” He manages to utter, not as gentle yet cautious. 

Humming, you return his question with another, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Your dearest brother, the man who allows himself only the most minute interaction with you, the man who would not even meet your eyes beyond the confines of your home, though his words sounded as though they came from a more composed man, the slight tremble to his voice told you more than enough. 

“Dear sister, you won’t die even if you take such drastic actions.”

“You’re right, but at the very least I’d be soporose, no?”

There is a pained edge to his voice, visage finally broken out of that placid facade, “I don’t enjoy these words you’re saying.”

“When have you ever?” You laugh, eyes crinkled in levity as a smile pulled across your lips. Bare feet halt from their untethered sway, leaning to meet your brother’s gaze. Your words crawl out from your throat, hoarse from use yet elated nonetheless, “I’m sure that if I were to even look into that head of yours, those few thoughts you dedicate to me would be nothing but pure odium.”

Perhaps you would have been less inclined to disparage your brother once upon a time, more desirous of his attention for once, yet it is now you could care less. His focus means nothing to you now, not when he could not even bother to do so when it mattered most. Even if he threw himself at your feet and begged you to come down, you find it hard to believe you would listen in this state. 

Sunday’s voice is soft, yet simultaneously it is the loudest you have ever heard it, “You seem so convinced that I do not care for you, have you ever read beyond what your eyes tell?”

“Would you let me?” The air in your lungs feels faint, turning your voice breathy as tears strangely dew at your lower lashes. 

Would he even let you witness such? Let himself become vulnerable and open his tempestuous mind for you to pick and pry? You do not even believe he has allowed any other to come so close. Yet perhaps this is what you need to quell that storm in your chest, the last nail in your coffin, your last reason confirmed. 

He nods. 

Through dark veils and cloudy bubbles, you see it. The truth of his neglect, the reality behind his constant avoidance, his performed favouritism, all of it some cruel and horrific attempt to distance himself from emotions deemed iniquitous. All those times the clock would read seven forty, all those times you believed him to arrive on some schedule, that damned bird had been in your room all the while. Tucked away in some corner too high for you to notice, it stood watch at all hours of the day, keenly broadcasting your most natural state to him as if it were nothing more than the daily news. 

What a monster love can be, its dark shadow following you everywhere, in your most private and public moments, you have never been alone. Longing to embrace, alabaster hands ghosting over skin and breath fanning across bare chest, desiring to possess, to keep that object of yearning within a gilded cage and to tuck the key away. Twisting yet ever rigid, covetous and desirous, it is no wonder that your very existence should always be tied to him. There is no you without Sunday, no crow without dove, for what is a pious man without his conflict of sin?

“I love you,” He pleads, finally raw and true, finally directed to you. His face twisted in pure desperation as he approaches you, with his arms outstretched as though to compel you from your perch, your brother practically begs, “So please, stay with me.”

Beneath your gaze, beneath you, he is but a wretched thing. You never thought him stupid, yet for him to think that this was enough to wipe the slate anew, you must have overestimated him. 

You bark out a harsh bite of laughter, void of mirth and filled with scorn, “Do you expect me to just forgive you just like that? A measly ‘I love you’ and years of indifference can just be forgotten?”

“Sunday, you’re nothing but the last etching on my grave.”

Your feet leave the cold marble, tipping off into the unknown abyss below as a breeze flies through your wings. 

Your sister’s face flashes before you as your eyes flutter shut, her soft smile the one thing keeping your head clear and your limbs limp. You hear her sing, even past the rushing wind. Your dear sister, the one person who had been keeping you looking forward to another day, her crooning voice that played from the record player in your room, it is now you hear her clearer than ever. 

A bird that has never flown can only fall when thrown down, wings unable to catch the wind and soar from its cage, yet it is because it has never flown that this feeling is still a kind of freedom. And as your skin pebbles from the chill and your hair flows along your descent, you have never felt any freer, even if it is only for a brief moment. 

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Through lace curtains and under warm light, a hand caresses your leg as it tugs white socks ever higher. Soft fabric clinging to your skin as he raises it to your thigh, far too intimate, far too familiar. He does the same for the other leg, knelt at your feet with his head bowed, the socks are nothing but perfectly aligned as per his preference. The garters hung around your waist, silken material his own hands placed upon you, he grasps the clips as he attaches it to the socks, ensuring he does not blemish your skin beneath. 

Your arm raises when he brings the blouse, silky and smooth. Sunday lets the cool fabric kiss your arms as he buttons each clasp, meticulously pushing them through each miniscule opening. Another piece he had ensured would fit you without fault, it followed the natural lines of your form without fail. He smooths the shoulders down and presses a kiss to the top of your head, moving to pin the sleeves with optic shaped cufflinks. Coaxing you from your seat, he has you step into your skirt, brought up to your waist and clasped neatly. Your shoes, perfectly shined heels tailor made for only you, are slipped on and buckled. Even the sweet florals of your perfume, another white lacquered glass bottle he gifted all those years ago, is applied by his hand. 

His dear sister, someone he has tried so hard to keep at an arm’s length, someone he has done nothing but debase in that torturous head of his, now stands before him, obedient and adoring. Far too tempting to keep away, his arms move to embrace you, resting at your waist.

Instinctively, your arms raise to wrap around his neck, weight leaning against his hands as he bows his head to press a kiss against your lips. You accept him languidly, your eyes fluttering close as he brings your bodies to but a fingertip’s distance. It almost seems meant to be, how they move against each other in a rhythm known only to the two of you. 

“I love you,” He murmurs against your lips, the words leaving him so naturally that if one were to tell him that he could finally utter these heavy words to you, that him of the past would have merely waved it off. “More than you could ever know.”

“.....love…”

“..you….”

Your wings flutter shyly around your two faces, as though to hide away from the rest of the world, even your halo trembles ever so slightly, an endearing act as you try your best to convey your affection to him. Still, that does not discourage you from attempting to cling onto him.

He smiles, pressing another, more chaste, kiss to your lips to tide you over. Recovery has been hard for you but he finds he quite enjoys having you so feeble for him. Barely able to even form full sentences through telepathy, it meant that he would be able to hear your sweet voice much more often. You were no songstress, but it is your humming that truly provides him with succour. Furthermore, having you so dependent, so keen for his help, it only serves to soften his heart. 

To reintroduce you to the rest of Penacony not as his sister, but as his dearest lover has been easy, and he can only thank his foresight for keeping your very existence so negligible. You would finally get what you have always yearned for, no matter what lies you told yourself, his full and utter adoration, demonstrable and undisguised. Lest you try to leave him once more. So he will keep you in this cage with him, care for you and love you so that beyond reasonable doubt, you shall have no desire to spread your wings once more.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.

[shxtodxroki]

𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜

Summary: You’re cuddling with Jihyun, but he’s oddly quiet, as if he’s listening to something specific. And when you eventually ask why, you learn about your boyfriend’s biggest joy in life (aside from you, of course).

Flufftober Day 8 Prompt: Rainy Day

Warnings: Mentions/hints towards depression, mentions of V slowly losing his eyesight

Pairing: V ( Jihyun Kim) x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Check out my full Flufftober masterlist here!

The room is silent, almost eerily so, as you sit beside your boyfriend with curious eyes and a mind full of wonder. You’re cozily cuddled up to his side, the fireplace running as you wrap both of your arms around one of his and press your cheek into his sweater. But for some reason, neither of you have said anything at all for the past ten minutes, your lover silently staring at the roof as if listening for something, or perhaps listening to something? You’re not particularly sure, but he seems more at peace than he hardly ever does, leaving you hesitant to disturb his clear serenity and risk wiping the soft, barely-there smile clean off his face.

Though you don’t wish to interrupt the silence of the room, you do slowly begin to sneak one of your hands down towards his palm, carefully linking your fingers with his. He lets you without a second thought, always open to your touch even when he’s not particularly paying attention, though your movements don’t seem to draw him out of his thoughts or his listening in the slightest as he remains quiet and stoic. Your cheek nuzzles against the fuzziness of his wool sweater in search of warmth despite the fire going at the other end of the room and the blanket currently being shared across your two bodies, as his warmth is like none other to you. A blanket and a fire can only warm your surface, but he’s able to get rid of the chill in your bones, able to make your soul feel light and airy to your core even with his own demons.

The fingers of your free hand slowly begin to dance up his sleeve, mindlessly playing with the soft fabric in your hands as your eyes turn up to his face. You could study him all day, you really could. He’s a living work of art, a being somehow painted perfectly, or photographed by an eye even more meticulous than his own. There’s not one feature of his that you don’t love, from his striking, vibrant hair to his soft, plush lips to his short, gentle fingernails that he lets you paint whenever you ask. He’s more precious than diamond or gold to your aching heart, and as he stares at nothing at all and finds himself lost in sounds unbeknownst to you, you find yourself thinking that he looks even more statuesque and gorgeous than usual as he sports one of his increasingly rare grins.

Though you’re desperate to hold his peace, to let him ruminate in this happiness that he’s so visibly experiencing for once, your curiosity eventually wins out as you ponder what could possibly be enrapturing him so much. Your hand gently squeezes his as you silently plead for his attention, gently snuggling into him once more as you look up at him and meet his gaze with soft, questioning eyes.

“What are you thinking about, love?” You ask quietly, careful to keep your voice low in hopes of preserving this moment’s serenity. “You seem really lost in something, but I can’t quite figure out what.”

Jihyun can’t help but let out a soft chuckle to your words, his free hand gently moving to trace along your knuckles as he responds. “....Can you hear that, angel?” He asks with a soft smile, and when you stop to listen, you can’t seem to hear much aside from a small, distant pitter-patter.

Tink. Tink. Tink. The sound barely echoes through the room, and for a second you think that can’t possibly be what your boyfriend’s referring to. You have no clue what it even is, how could it be significant enough for him to comment on?

But then, like a strike of lightning in your neurons, you realize that the sound is the soft patter of rain against your roof, your eyes glancing towards the window as you watch the droplets race down the glass panes and fill the sky with a grey smog. You had never known your lover to be particularly fascinated with the rain, but many people enjoyed the sights and sounds of fresh rainfall, though you were still curious if there was a deeper root as to why he seemed so utterly lost in the echoes of the downpour.

“The rain?” You ask for confirmation, your fingers squeezing his hand once more as he wordlessly nods in response. “I suppose I can, it’s pretty quiet though. I didn’t know you liked the rain so much….” You mutter, prompting him for further elaboration, if there was any to discuss in the first place.

He doesn’t answer right away, simply giving you another soft smile as he pulls you closer than before. He was being awfully generous today, showing off the beauty that is his smile more frequently than he had ever since you had met him, and the mere sight makes your heart swell to the brim. You suddenly find yourself incredibly thankful for the rain, your gratitude for the way it’s brightened your lover’s attitude pouring out of you and rivaling the steady downfall outside even if you can’t understand it. Until he finally explains it to you, the best he can, and gives you a window into his mind.

“Well… my eyesight is nearly gone now.” He starts with a sigh, though he doesn’t sound as melancholy as he typically does when the topic is brought up. That mention instantly piques your curiosity further, however, and you listen with rapt attention as he continues as the pads of your fingers mindlessly grip his sleeve. “So I can’t enjoy many of the things that used to calm me down before. The sight of flowers in a vibrant garden, the fireplace flaring up on a cold night, the thrill of getting to photograph a precious sight… honestly, I was starting to think I had nothing besides you that made me feel relaxed anymore.”

Of course you knew he had been suffering as the deterioration of his eyesight progressed. Anyone in his position would, and you had witnessed firsthand the simple pleasures of nature in his life slowly decreasing as his vision went more and more. But you hadn’t realized just how bad it had been mentally wounding him until this moment, and your heart aches for him as you patiently wait for him to continue at his own pace.

“But…. I can still enjoy the rain. Rain has never been about the sight for me, unlike most things that soothe my mind. It…. it’s more about the sound of the rain hitting the house, the smell of the mist in the air…. I guess I’m just happy that I haven’t lost all of my favorite parts of nature. That I can still enjoy things like this with the senses I do still have.”

Though your heart still holds a crack in response to his troubles, you feel tears of relief begin weighing down your waterline as his smile grows wider than it’s been all day. You suddenly shift your weight to meet him eye-to-eye after taking a moment to compose yourself, taking your sweet, fragile man’s precious face in your hands as you stare at him with a cheesy, lovestruck smile.

“You know, I think you’ve made me love the rain too.” You whisper, before leaning in and connecting your lips in a tender, gentle kiss. It’s brief, a few seconds at most, but he’s able to understand without words just how thankful you are for this moment. How thankful you are that he’s smiling again, that he’s found something besides his lover that still brings him joy. You’ve had to watch him lose so much along with his eyesight, sticking by his side through all of his worst moments along this journey, and through this kiss he realizes that you dream of him never losing joys like the rain ever again.

You’re unable to resist the urge to brush your thumb against the soft skin of his cheek as you pull away from this kiss, your finger slowly tracing along his sharp jawline as you press another peck to his cheek. “If it makes you happy, then I hope it rains every day. Anything to see you smile. “ You tell him with a voice full of fondness, and right then Jihyun knows that he could lose every other pleasure in life - rain included - and still be perfectly satisfied, as long as he still had you to love and hold throughout the rest of his life.

Request - Anonymous said: hello, darling! how are you? for your flufftober could you write something for v from mysme, please???

A/N: Ahhhh so sorry for my absence during my school-related slump, but I am STILL going to catch up these next few days because I REALLY want to see this event through to the end since I’m having tons of fun with it! Honestly I don’t know much about V (haven’t been down his route yet, and there’s been very little about him in the routes I’ve been down so far) so I hope this is okay! I think it turned out really sweet at least, I’m pretty proud of this so I hope you guys enjoy it as well! :> Also my requests are currently open, so if you have any requests for any fandoms I write for feel free to send them my way!

Taglist: @flufftober

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

[loosesodamarble]

Welcome to the Black Bird Part 5: Marius the Austere

Summary: Introducing Fuegoleon as Marius, the stern but gentle soul of the Black Bird. Genre: general Word count: ~900 A/N: Fuegoleon's art was done by @cringeyvanillamilk

..........

Fuegoleon sighed as he released his hold on the grip strength tester. His physician, Owen Lindwell, took the machine and jotted down the results from the screen.

“23 kg… For your first attempt after the months of recovery from your surgery, it’s not bad,” Owen commented.

“It’s not very good either, though, is it?” Fuegoleon muttered and he massaged his shoulder. Even after letting his arm take it easy, the surgery spot felt sore more often than not. “It’s not even half of what it used to be.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that at this point,” Owen replied with a sympathetic smile. “What matters is that you’re able to use your hand at all. And with a rehabilitation process laid out, you’ll surely see improvement with time.”

In the face of the hopeful statement, Fuegoleon still only felt heaviness in his heart. He looked at his hand. Despite being able to see how it was connected to the rest of his body and move it on his whim, the limb felt utterly foreign.

Did all people who underwent surgery feel this kind of detachment from the limb that was operated on? Or was Fuegoleon’s case unique, in light of how extensive the surgery was?

“Fuegoleon.” Owen’s voice made the younger man raise his head. “As your doctor, I will be working with you with the goal of a full rehabilitation. But as a family friend, I want to remind you that a slow recovery or a lack of one through the current process isn’t a failure on your part. Healing will happen eventually, even if the path is unclear.”

Fuegoleon gave a small grunt as a non-reply.

“For now, you should start by finding a hobby or project where you can use your arm without applying too much physical strain.”

…..

There was hardly a sound as the teacup and saucer was set on the table. With a practiced elegance, Fuegoleon slid his hand from the saucer he’d placed then reached for the second that was still on his tray.

“No need to be so stiff, Marius,” a lady with deep brown hair like coffee giggled. “It’s like you’re afraid of spilling acid, not tea.”

“It is merely the need to provide you with a smooth and untroubled dining experience that I move at the pace that I do, Miss Erika,” Fuegoleon answered flatly as he set the second cup in front of the other customer.

Erika’s gaze softened on Fuegoleon before turning to her partner. “What do you think, Karma?”

“My thoughts?” The red-haired woman sitting across from Erika touched her cheek in a dainty manner. “I believe that Marius is diligent rather than ‘stiff.’ To be in such control of himself is admirable. You’re perfectly fine as you are, Marius.”

“Why thank you, ma’am.”

“Aw, but you being all stoney worries me,” Erika whined. “How do I know if you’re okay?”

Fuegoleon closed his eyes for a moment of thought. He grew up being told that his ability to show a strong face made him respectable. And even at the cafe, his role was to maintain a neutral expression to contrast his subtle gentle displays.

“I apologize for worrying you, Miss,” Fuegoleon began. “But believe me when I say that even if it doesn’t show on my face, your kindness has brought a smile to my heart.”

Erika blinked, clearly taken aback by Fuegoleon’s statement, before letting out a dry sigh. “The way you talk makes it hard to believe…”

“Don’t worry about him, love,” Karma said with an airy laugh.

“So ladies.” With the opening presenting himself, Fuegoleon took out his notepad and pen. “Are you prepared to order the rest of your meal?”

“Oh ye—” Karma stopped short and squinted one eye. “I apologize. Marius, I think the light from the table lamp hit your… watch?” Fuegoleon stiffened at her words. “Momentarily blinded, that’s all.” The redhead smiled it off.

“Ah. That’s… my bad.” Fuegoleon tugged on his right sleeve to better cover his wrist. “I shall see to it that my suit is better fitted.”

“Why not just take off the wa—?"

“We’ll start with a pot of Winter Rose and a soup of the day each,” Karma said, speaking over Erika, and waved Fuegoleon off. He took the sign and left to recompose himself.

…..

Roaring Crimson Soup. The most straightforward of the dishes on the menu but no less popular.

Red bell peppers and tomatoes were pureed to make the base of a creamy stew. The french bread served alongside, bought from a local bakery, was toasted over open flames since the charred flavor paired well with the soup. Or so the head chef at the time of the dish’s creation insisted.

The draw of the item was similar to the appeal of Fuegoleon’s persona. The paired soup and bread didn’t need to be elaborate, just warm and comforting. It was like how Fuegoleon’s butler persona was understated compared to ones like Sukehiro’s or Rill’s. And despite a neutral exterior, his presence had a kindness. That’s what made customers so fond of not just the butler Marius, but Fuegoleon himself.

Fuegoleon carried a serving of his signature dish out to the dining room and thought to himself.

He was terribly disingenuous. To appear so dignified and simple when inside he felt like a mess. A hollow version of his old self, just hiding under a mask of strength. But there was nothing he could do about that feeling. All he really could do was go through the motions. Motions which his right arm couldn’t even feel anymore.

[murmurmurl]

i need u to tell me everything about your unit so when ill be writing once i have time, i can put them in it too

hohoheheoehehehoheoe,,,,,,, I'm gonna use this as an opportunity to shove all of the most important info into one place. Everything is a little all over the place tho, but it's always like that wjkhkskh

Helianthus♡Light!

Helianthus is the genus which includes sunflowers. Fumi and Seina suggested this part of the name, since Fumi loves flowers and the flower language/symbolism behind them, and Seina knows the more,, biological/scientific stuffs. The "Light" part is both because it also has to do with sunflowers, and Toshiro suggested that they're "reaching for light", because they chose the name at the end of their main story and they were feeling very hopeful,, it's not like they're not hopeful now, idk why I phrased it like that ANYWAYS.

I'm kind of not sure what type of music they play (mainly because I don't know ANYTHING about music genres lol), but it's definitely something warm, nostalgic, maybe a bit echo-y, somewhat soft, and their cover arts definitely include a lot of nature stuff,,,,, I haven't designed their virtual singers yet, but they're probably gonna be Rin and Luka (and Miku obv)

Unit members!

Toshiro Hasegawa (they/he)

178 cm tall, unit leader, probably main vocalist?, class 2-B (post-3rd anni), class 1-C (pre-3rd anni). Pretty energetic and outgoing, straight-A student, very afraid of failure and tends to try to earn love and affection through exceeding at everything because family problems, yay. Has an older brother (Hiroto Hasegawa, he/him), who is a part of ANOTHER unit,, The two are pretty distant. The whole family actually is, woops. Toshiro is also VERY into crystals and spirituality. It gives a sense of certainty. Also has an orange cat named Surfer. They're a big MMJ fan, specifically Airi fan. Friends with Ichika and An. Always braids/does everyone's hair.

Matsu Kimura (he/him)

162 cm, probably also vocals, but mainly deals with the uhm technical musical stuff that I know nothing about?? class 3-C (post-3rd anni), class 2-B (pre-3rd anni). Very bubbly, energetic, affectionate, super-uber-extra autism (sea-flavoured), very average grades because he only really does what he's interested in, but he does it rlly good. Used to get bullied in middle school, struggles with people's expectations and trying to fit in. Very-very silly. Only child. Keeps pet fish. Friends with Emu. Very tactile, loves tackling people.

Fumi Hatanaka (she/they)

169 cm, loves musical instruments and plays guitar, class 2-A (post-3rd anni), class 1-B (pre-3rd anni). A surprisingly bad student, doesn't care about school. She's pretty reserved and a bit grumpy most of the time but tends to easily get angry and even a little aggressive. Cares a lot about her friends, even though she doesn't really know how to show it. Also doesn't want to show "weakness". Blames herself for being too soft in middle school and not being able to help Matsu. Her family owns and runs a small flower shop. Friends with Shiho, dislikes Tsukasa and Rui (thinks they're too obnoxious and chaotic lmao). Also an only child. Doesn't have pets, but feeds strays that often hang out around the shop. Friends with Shiho and pretty much all of leo/need, as well as Toya. Can be pretty distant physically, but likes subtle physical gestures of affection.

Seina Amari (she/her)

175 cm, writes lyrics for their songs, loves writing in general, the only one in the group who goes to Miya girls', class 3-B (post-3rd anni), class 2-B (pre-3rd anni). Does VERY good at school, super responsible, helps everyone, though isn't actually all that interested in most subjects except literature. She's very calm and caring, always tries to help everyone, has a very gentle energy about her. This mostly comes from the fact that she had hurt a dear friend in the past, which was actually genuinly her fault, but also some shit happened, and she ended up dealing with this by being overly-caring and not letting her loved ones see when she's struggling. Doesn't mean she doesn't ACTUALLY care though. She very much does. Has a younger sibling (Taru Amari, they/them), who's also part of the same unit Hiroto is! Also has a pet bunny named Puddle, who's very similar to her, which I think is funny,, not exactly friends with Mafuyu, but just a little bit closer than regular acquaintances. Close friends with Shizuku and pretty much the rest of MMJ too (Toshiro nearly fainted when they found out). Has a part-time job at a local coffee shop, where she met and became friends with Ena. Often shows affection/compassion by something like placing a hand on someone's shoulder.

I decided that they all should have emojis because,, idk,,,, it's fun,,,,,, so:

Toshiro – 🍑

Matsu – 🦈 (or jellyfish, but I don't have this one and don't want to have to copy-paste it every time,,)

Fumi – 🍊

Seina – 🍃 or ✒️ (but here I mostly use ✒️)

How all of them know each other!

(Because I wanted ALL of them to have some kind of connection to each other before the unit was formed. I think it's fun.)

🦈🍊 Matsu and Fumi are childhood friends and went to the same middle school. It was very awkward and tense at first when they met again in high-school, because back then Fumi felt extremely guilty and ended up distancing herself, eventually kind of abandoning Matsu when he needed support most.

🍑🍊 (fucking fruits /j) Toshiro's brother visits Fumi's family's flower shop very frequently, that's how Toshiro and Fumi met, since she often helps out with the shop in the evenings. Though they didn't become close until the main story started and the unit was firmed.

🍑✒️ Toshiro and Seina know each other because their siblings, Hiroto and Taru, are friends! So they kinda met through Seina accompanying Taru whenever they wanted to visit Hiroto.

🍊✒️ Fumi loves coffee and met Seina when going to the coffee shop Seina works part-time at. Because Fumi ended up being a regular customer there, even with their tough personality the two became acquaintances, but also didn't become very close until the events of the main story.

🍑🦈 Toshiro and Matsu just kinda bumped into each other at school. They became friends before the events of the main story.

🦈✒️ I think Matsu and Seina are the only exception though. They've only met when the main story started.

[also, side note – none of them canonically have labels, but the pronouns are canon]

Dynamics!!

🍑🍊 They bicker and argue a lot, but not, like, SERIOUSLY. They're both aware they're joking and most of the time it's affectionate. Fumi isn't as big of a fan of physical affection as it seems the rest of the unit is, so Toshiro doesn't get the chance to braid her hair that often. But when he does, it's very nice and relaxing for both. Surprisingly, Toshiro might be the closest to Fumi, after Matsu, that is.

🍑✒️ Toshiro loves braiding/doing everyone's hair, as I've mentioned already, and his favorite to do this to is Seina. They especially like braiding these tail-like longer parts of her hair. Overall, they're pretty close because of their siblings, and Toshiro might be one of the first people Seina eventually opens up to. Also, I keep forgetting that Toshiro is actually taller. Most of the time, Seina just. FEELS taller, idk.

🍑🦈 These two are very close. They both kinda admire Rui and Tsukasa, which worsens their already chaotic behavior. They're actually two menaces together and no one is safe. Matsu loves tackling Toshiro more than everyone else and Toshiro might sometimes jokingly complain, but loves the attention. Matsu's hair is also his second favorite to braid. Also they drag Matsu to MMJ concerts and keep trying to convert him into being an MMJ fan,,,,,,

🍊✒️ Seina has a surprising way of calming Fumi down better than anyone else. Sometimes, maybe if they're waiting for something or riding a train somewhere, Fumi even allows herself to rest on Seina's shoulder. She's less harsh with Seina (even if her harshness isn't malicious with her friends). Seina sometimes has to stop Fumi from getting into fights. Even if she struggles to show it, Fumi tries her best and appreciates Seina a lot.

🍊🦈 As I mentioned before, Matsu and Fumi are childhood friends. At the beginning of the unit story things are still pretty awkward and Fumi is very tense around Matsu, as she still feels guilty, but isn't sure how to properly express any of it, while Matsu still feels a little hiet over her abandoning him. Though as the story goes on, this conflict pretty much gets resolved, even though it will still take a lot of time for any awkwardness to disappear completely. After the unit is formed, they're pretty close again, despite, uh, all of what I just said. They need some time to get used to each other again, but ARGHHH I LOVE THEM SO MUCH, they care about each other A LOT, even if Fumi isn't the best at expressing it. The whole reason she became so mean and harsh is to be able to protect Matsu.

✒️🦈 Seina kinda feels like an older sister figure to Matsu, I think? At least, for me,, She worries about him a lot, maybe even more than with the others, helps in overwhelming situations, all that. He's still very affectionate, but it's kinda like his affection is more calm with her (basically, he doesn't tackle her as hard as everyone else /hj)

SEKAI description!!!

(I just copy-pasted this from the post where I first described it. I'm NOT typing all that ever again)

I mentioned that I call it the overgrown sekai. Because it's, well, overgrown. As you could hopefully guess. The main part of it is an old stone structure, with some intricate carvings still remaining visible and even discernable, although everything does look like it's at least.. a few centuries old, no less. However, taking into account that it's a sekai, it probably isn't that ancient. Almost everything is pretty much overrun by plants – ivy spreading across the grey stone walls, grass (and most importantly flowers) breaking their way through the floor that seems to be made of marble, but it's too old, overgrown and at times dirty to be completely sure. The said flowers are a strange mix of forget-me-nots and sunflowers that may not quite make sense, but it *is* a whole ass other dimension, after all. There's plenty of light, despite practically no windows in sight, save for a few small ones. The reason for that being the roof, shaped like a dome, with holes in it that clearly weren't here by the first design, having appeared because of the stone collapsing over time. Unsurprisingly, the flowers are concentrated in the areas where the most light seeps through those holes. And speaking of light, the time here is always the same – late afternoon, with the season always remaining a comfortable sunny summer.

There's some furniture in the building, mostly along the walls, with the center looking almost like a flowerbed. That furniture seems to represent each of the owners of the sekai – an old desk made of dark wood with a quil and some paper thrown around it, almost giving it an impression that the owner left in a hurry. The paper has become a light yellow color over what may or may not be a rather long amount of time. Next to it – a somewhat fancy wooden chair. There are mirrors hung around this part of the space – some broken, some have the glass taken out entirely. Just a little further – a shelf and an armchair. Both items' materials and overall look fit that of nearly very other piece of furniture here. The shelf is filled with items that seem to have some spiritualistic significance – amulets, crystals and stones, all of them hand-made and hand-carved, yet seeming to lack in accuracy and having been made in a hurry. The armchair strangely has a few long chains hanging on its back. One of the more noticeable pieces of furniture is... a fish tank. It has no fish. In fact, it doesn't even have water, though it's probably not intended to be that way – the tank is spacious and has pretty much almost everything a fish would need to be happy and content in captivity. But it's old and worn out – the driftwood rotting away, whatever plants used to be inside have withered and everything is covered in a thin layer of... dust..? The tank itself stands on top of something of a dresser. If you care to open its doors, you will see rows upon rows of books – as many as could fit in the little space there is inside. Most of them have to do with marine life, but there are also some journals full of incomprehensible messy writing, as if whoever was filling them either didn't have much time, or was feeling too much emotion to care. Perhaps the strangest item in the building is a cage. It's designed just like one of those small restricting bird cages, glistening with gold in the light from above, but for some reason, the cage could easily fit a human. If you decide to step in, you might notice an unexpected aroma. It's vague and subtle, but... it almost seems like fresh black coffee mixed with something citrusy. Outside, the building is surrounded by a dense forest. The light can't penetrate the abundance of trees, but somehow, it doesn't feel eerie or threatening. It feels familiar in an unexplainable way. Have you already seen these woods somewhere..?

I think that's pretty much all the important stuff..? I ramble A LOT about small details pretty often, but uhm. Explodes.

[doomedandstoned]

GÉVAUDAN Unveil Powerful Lovecraftian Journey in ‘Umbra’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Album Art by Erskine Designs

I love it when bands go for epic. With concept firm in hand, four-piece English progressive doomers GÉVAUDAN reveal a one-track 43-minute epic in 'Umbra' (2023), the band's second LP following the well-received 'Iter' (2019).

Some songs are written to get your body moving and your head banging, and so release a lot of energy in a short space of time. Other songs are written for the long-haul, supporting the unfurling narrative of a story old, grand, mysterious, and surprising.

Gévaudan's penchant for storytelling is worthy of the baffling tale of the Beast of Gévaudan itself, a puzzling corner of history three centuries past. This epic tale seems at times to characterize a carousing beast or the sorrowful cries of its victims or the brimming rage of loved ones headed into the forest to hunt the thing that is like a wolf, yet not a wolf.

Some hints of the band's intentions can be gleaned from the album title, umbra being the darkest place in a shadow. The piece begins with the unsettling scratch of dissonant guitar, like a cloud of electrified mist. Then comes the slow, deliberate thump-thump-thump of the drums. The first doom riff and sorrowful verse emerges:

I’m waiting in the dawn light, clawing, tongue like dirt Bleeding wounds that unwind, nails worn through Screaming, wordless prayer

For a voice this plaintive, you'd have to go to Rainbo from Portland, Oregon's Purification or The Wizard from the late, great Pilgrim. There is genuine mourning here, with words reminiscent of the downcast prayers of King David. Like the Psalmist, the eyes of lyricist Adam Pirmohamed seem to lift heavenward, to the invisible, esoteric realms of God and the soul.

And I slumber, in His embrace He cradles me to death And I slumber, in His faith He caresses, within my flesh

You may wonder how to take the words, just reading them at face value, but Adam has a way of convincing you of them on an intuitive level, such is the sincerity and relatability of his singing. Meanwhile, guitarist Bruce Hamilton gives release to the moment with a dazzling heavy metal solo that does some singing of its own.

When Adam returns to the mic, it is with conviction, and the vocal style becomes considerably more bold.

And I slumber, in His embrace! And I slumber, in His faith!

There follows at 12:43 a period of the sublimest peace, with the airy ambience of pleasant dreams, free from the burdens and cares of this life. In a note from the band, they reveal that the song is about battling depression, with strong Lovecraftian themes (see below).

A third section surfaces at 18:32, with the guitar strumming a triumphant theme and the rhythm section of Andy Salt (bass) and David Himbury (drums) supplying a lofty heartbeat. Adam's singing seems to embrace sunlight and blue skies following the sullen clouds of the first act. At 21:51 a whirling, climbing solo from Bruce, charged with grit and determination.

There is something vaguely Medieval about the riff we return to at 23:03, as though it were ruminating on past sins or future worries. Then at 23:40 bliss enters in the form of a psychedelic guitar set against noodling bass and the gentle tapping of drums and cymbals. The stern riff returns, though it seems to be right at home with its jazzier counterpart.

Then at 25:05 the mood shifts back to the depressive air of the start, and it might seem like defeat -- back to the status quo of gloominess and melancholy. But something has changed. There is reflection and a sense of perspective about the state of things, and an optimistic spirit rises above the morass.

I’m waiting in the dawn light Screaming, euphoria Sightless woodland Breathless blood

The presence of the synth gives it an otherworldly flare. Then at 32:52 piano, bass, and voice take us to the water's edge for a beautiful song within a song. It might have ended there, but the full band returns at 35:53 with wailing guitar and damning chords to truly finish the piece.

Standing at my hearth, I am showered with gold Strong foundations, I am king, I am known Growing inside, fearless soul of mine Brightest eyes, reflecting through mirrors

Now, as I mentioned, this is inspired by Lovecraft so there could be something stranger, more sinister afoot than I am aware of. I won't spoil those last four lines of the song (beginning at 38:21), but they may leave you questioning whatever you believed about the whole ordeal to begin with. I love the dark, droning synth that takes us into the void at the record's conclusion.

And with that, Gévaudan have created something unexpected and brilliant in Umbra. The album releases this weekend on vinyl, compact disc, and digital formats (pre-order here). Stick it on a playlist with Neurosis, Serpent Venom, Purification, Age of Taurus, and Pilgrim.

Give ear...

Umbra by Gévaudan

A Letter From The Band

We’re delighted to provide an exclusive stream of our second full-length album, Umbra, in partnership with Doomed & Stoned. This has been a while in the making, and we’re really excited to finally be releasing our most ambitious record to date, seeped in grandiose and epic doom.

Our new album, 'Umbra' (2023), evolved from the depths. Through a single 43-minute concept, it explores depression through the eyes of Eldritch horror, culminating in the unrelenting shadow that’s imparted on its sufferer -- a battle of light, stalked by darkness. As you may have come to expect from Gévaudan, this is monolithic, progressive, and highly emotive doom.

It was late 2020 when the first riffs for Umbra appeared in the studio. We felt we’d really found our niche through our debut, ‘Iter’ (2019), and made a conscious decision that our next record was going to take some of the more epic elements even further. Since our inception in 2013, we’d had a strong desire to write a concept album - something vast and atmospheric. It felt like the appropriate time to embark on the piece and see how our sound would translate onto a 40+ minute canvas for the next album.

Our writing process took on a far more live and collaborative approach. Whilst riff-master-general, Bruce, continued to bring riffs into the studio which we adopted, refined, and worked into fully formed ideas. We also took more time to jam and evolve parts, and created more in the room collaboratively. This helped to fully shape the progression and tonal shifts we wanted to achieve.

Lyricist and vocalist Adam has always taken the lead on the thematics. When thinking of concepts for the album, we wanted to take a different approach than usual. We’ve covered a lot of fantasy, history, and the occult; and whilst we didn’t want to stray too far from that, we wanted to write something with more of a personal and relatable element.

At the time, Adam was managing a bout of depression and kind of fell naturally into writing about how they were feeling -- almost an indescribable and ominous feeling, a sense of something looming. From that feeling it felt instinctive to use themes and ideas of Eldritch Horror as an allegory for depression and distress, and it was rewarding to write about a relatable topic whilst still staying true to our known themes and tones.

An important part of our evolution on this album is the introduction of piano and synth. They have extended the layers and palettes we can play with and have allowed us to explore different textures and writing approaches.

As part of the completely immersive concept approach, the cover art was another key ingredient. The impressive cover artwork has been developed by Erskine Designs. Conceptually and tonally, it’s the perfect accompaniment of the aforementioned themes.

The dynamics of our song writing have always been a key ingredient to our musical approach, and we were fortunate to have the opportunity to work with producer and engineer Mike Exeter in the studio again.

Finally, we’re really excited to be working with Meuse Music Records on this release. They have been incredibly supportive in bringing our vision to life on physical formats, and are a really great team to be collaborating with.

Please sit back, lower the lights, and crank up the volume to indulge in this epic musical journey.

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

[fourseasonsfigs]

Graceful Prince

The name for this fig is 翩翩太子, piānpiān tàizǐ, which translates (according to machine translation) as graceful / elegant prince.

The name becomes quite beautifully clear when we see the inspiration:

All of Gong Jun's costumes as Prince Han Ye are absolutely gorgeous, and this one is no exception. I can't wait to see this costume (and all the others!) in the show. It's nice to have these figs tiding us over in the interim!

Knock on wood and fingers crossed, I've been getting really lucky with figs coming in perfect condition (at least when I don't forget to have them air wrapped!).

One of the options we had was to purchase an additional standee. It's standard policy here at Figthusiast Central to buy all the extras and add-ons, so here it is! It's not peeled (the translucent protective film over it is still on both sides) so it's not as bright and colorful as it will be. This is not the fig art, but instead art of the wrap up of filming:

He's a very elegant prince indeed!

The fig maker did a lovely job with the faint flush in his cheeks, and of course, my absolute favorite sideways smile.

I wish I had more photos of this costume so we could compare it against all sides, but this will be a good preview of it! It's so airy and ethereal in the still photo.

The modeling on his hand that he's holding in front of him is very detailed and beautiful - you can see every single finger. That's no roughly designed blob!

Hahaha, ok, this hand looks like a roughly designed blob! But that's just the angle. We'll keep going!

Ah this hanfu is so beautiful. I like how the fig maker designed the folds to emphasize the pattern of the misty mountains.

There's a little more detail on the back hand - it's difficult as the light from my window (on the left of the fig) is kind of washing the detail out. It does also have nice molding on it.

Ah you can really see the folds of the hanfu here - I get the sense the fig is walking. Slowly and elegantly, of course. I always have a special place in my heart for what I think of as this Wen Kexing posture.

And here we're coming around again to the front! More of that great sense of gentle walking motion.

No robe or pants/boots detail here! Just a clean solid block of resin.

A nice shot of his guan here. I zoomed in to take a look at the original in the photo, and what I could tell of it (which is not a ton) it looks VERY complex. Almost like some some mother of pearl or some other shimmery type of inlay in a very intricate crown. So as much as I would like to see the fig maker replicate it, I can understand why it's better sometimes to just not get too crazy and in over your head (haha, I didn't mean that pun!).

Alright, I promised a close up of the hand, didn't I!

Here we have the extreme close up of the front...

....and ok, this is a little less detailed on the back! I'm pleased to see my camera did not wash it out with the sunshine as much as I thought. Still, looks good, especially for a hand that won't be seen much, if at all, inside my fig display.

The fig came inside a plain white box, but the box card is quite nice. This seller always has this style of card where there's art on one side and a three-side view of the fig on the other. You can see the name of the fig, 翩翩太子, on the top of the card.

Material: Resin

Fig Count: 234

Scene Count: 18

Rating: Graceful and elegant indeed!

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

[vespersposts]

Reap what you sow

I update after a while, I am a bit lazy even with the blog I apologize but it's busy weeks. I will also resume the mini stories of 'Lame game' soon, for now I leave you with a new chapter in this series.

Here you and Daiki lay the foundation for your fake story, hoping no one pays too much attention to how mismatched you are. I hope you enjoy it. See you soon!

Vesper

After a three-course dinner and four hours of trying not to fall off those stilts Kyoko calls shoes, you deserve to throw yourself into bed and sleep like a baby.

Instead, you have to work overtime.

"Apartment 199, please " you tell the worried concierge, who quickly phones the athlete to inform him of your visit.

He offers to show you around, accompanies you to the lift, chooses the right floor for you, and turns his attention away from your legs, which are covered by thin tights, only when you start to cough heavily.

Things you are used to, but will never really get used to.

You check your mobile phone and smile at your boss's enthusiastic reaction to Kyoko's feedback. 

You love working with women; they are so loving, generous, never vulgar. They spoil you in a gentle way, making you feel special, dressing you up like their favourite doll and taking you to their art gallery opening to show everyone how perfect you are.

They give you shoes just like theirs, which butcher your feet and threaten to make you fall off, but they're so happy with the red thread that binds you, that it doesn't matter if you have blisters for two weeks.

You smile, clutching the small bright purse between your fingers, and drag your legs to the end of the corridor, where an ajar door awaits. At least, a woman would have been waiting at the lift. But he is not even a customer, let alone a done and dusted man. You knock on the door and announce yourself, looking at where you can leave your shoes, smiling at the imaginary relief you will feel when you take them off.

You hear his voice shout something, then quick footsteps approach and there he is, Daiki Aomine in his stylish outfit of grey joggers and a simple white t-shirt.

"Who are you?" he asks, handing you an envelope with a pair of guest slippers. He pauses to watch, curious and amused, as you try to sit down on the front step, despite the fact that your dress is too short and tight to do so without revealing all your virtue.

" If you're done with the humour, could you lend me your arm?" you ask him testily, and immediately receive his forearm on which to lean, and finally manage to put on your slippers.

"Do you always dress like that when you go into strangers' houses?” he asks you, looking at you with a long stare, but there is no malice in his intention, if anything, irony.

"I was at work " you replied hastily, and followed him into the living room, where you noticed that he had already arranged some snacks on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

" You should not accept being invited home, especially if it's a man and it's getting late" he comments, opening a bag of crisps and spilling them into a metal bowl.

You look up, you must have arrived at a preacher's house.

" I don't know much about you, but I know you don't like me. I asked Momoi if you were a psycho and she vouched for you. I trust Satsuki completely, so yeah, I didn't have too many qualms about coming here tonight " you explain, sitting on the edge of the sofa so that your dress doesn't embarrass you.

"She’s no liar, for sure" he nods and goes to the fridge "What can I get you to drink? I've only got sports drinks, water and maybe some coffee, but it has been there since this morning! " he finishes, standing with his back to you, as he checks the contents of the fridge in the design kitchen.

" Water will be fine, thanks" you reply, letting your eyes wander around the room.

You certainly hadn't imagined a boy's apartment to be this clean and tidy, let alone his. There is little furniture, which makes everything seem airy, comfortable and soft. The lights are hidden at the edge of the wall and are warm, enveloping. There is only one large abstract painting on the walls, which breaks up the neutral tone of the room by contrasting with the light parquet floor. On the long, dark cupboard beneath there are a glass tumbler, his residence card and a set of three silver-framed photographs that you approach.

They are, of course, an ode to her.

Every other woman who enters this house must know to whom his heart belongs.

You smile and bring the middle photo closer to your face, feeling him behind you, his tall frame inches from you, a breath of air carrying his scent.

"You must think it's lame" he comments, taking out of your hands the picture of him, shirtless and happy, with Satsuki on his shoulders at some kind of summer festival .

"Not at all" you turn to look at his face "I find it very meaningful instead" you smile, moving away to resume your position on the couch.

"You are a rather mysterious person, you know that?" he comments, sliding in next to you and looking at you as if waiting for some revelation.

" I know Kuri has told you everything she thinks she knows about me, but I'm not going to explain how I run my private life " you inform him, taking a sip from your glass as he stretches out flat on the pillows.

"She has a terrible opinion of you, but who cares! " he mentions without much ado "Satsuki would never have let you get this close to me if she didn't have complete faith in you, so your 'friend' must be wrong" he concludes, gesturing with his hand to pass the chips around. 

You comply and remain silent for a moment, before sharing your pressing thought.

"You always come first for Satsuki, do you see that? " you ask, making him stop and look at you with a quizzical expression.

"I'll explain it simply: no girl would care as much about a childhood friend, much less one who has a soulmate boyfriend to think about. Then why do you think Momoi cares so much about you?" you urge him, turning to him, who gives you an alarmed look and a few  unintelligible half-words.Then he looks away to pull himself up, pulls a pillow out from behind his back and tosses it between you, sighing and returning to his original position.

" What's this for? Are you stupid or something?" you ask him piquantly, but as you lower your eyes to your bare legs, you realise that maybe you are the stupid one. 

You stand up and spread your dress over your knees, clenching your hands as your image crumbles, now that your cheeks are burning and you are close to bursting into tears. 

You inhale and exhale a couple of times, press your lips against each other, but nothing seems to work, perhaps because you are too tired and uncomfortable.

It gets even worse when you hear his voice.

" There's no need to get so upset. It's not like you showed me your panties begging me to fuck you, and besides, yours aren't the first pair of thighs I've seen" he informs you, thinking he's being helpful "So… Don't worry at all. I've already cleaned it all up. All gone, memory resetted, wiped ! " he assures you as he gets up from the couch and stands in front of you, his hands on your shoulders and a look so serious on his face, that you can't help but pop out that question. "What kind of girl, in her right mind, would be showing you her panties in a begging bowl? Are you that simple even in porn, champ?" you conclude under his astonished gaze.

You barely had time to blink before you heard him laugh, thunderously, his hands still resting on your shoulders, making you tremble a little. 

“What a freak !" he points out between the chuckles.

"Say you, the filthiest guy of them all!” you reply, smiling a little at his beaming face.

"Say you, the most annoying girl around!” his voice echoes, making you tighten your lips in a grimace.

“At least I don't spend all my spare time wasting tissues in front of a screen!" you set your winning slam. 

He nods, raising his hands to admit  defeat.

"It's gonna be a hot mess, right?” he smirks “ An yet… Why not? Go on, show me life beyond the screen, you genius!"  trying to read your puzzled expression.

"Are you in? We're doing the faking thing?" you think out loud. He nods, letting you go and clenching his hand into a fist, expecting you to do the same to seal the deal.

"After all I know... There’s no way I’m gonna bump you! " you protest, giving him a wry look before hearing him bursting into laughter again.

You are so mismatched, so out of sync, so unfit for each other, it's almost funny. You are like those endless jigsaw puzzles you do as a child, bored out of your mind. The ones where you force the pieces together just to finish the game quickly, not caring if the picture isn't the one in the box. It's all so pointless, grotesque, embarrassing, that it's sure it’s gonna be a mess.

Yet here you are, shrugging your shoulders, eating crisps and asking for a blanket so you can sit on the couch without making a further spectacle of yourself.

The tiredness is gone, the embarrassment too, replaced by lame jokes and childish remarks.

Yet here you are, doing everything you can to escape your loneliness again.

[in-my-feels-probably]

Heyy… so I saw your 1000 Follower celebration and I think this is a very sweet Idea, so I definitely have no choice but to „participate“ in this. So the fandom I’d like would be Bridgerton, with option two. I’d want the blurb to be with one of the guys, romantically (but please not Anthony since I’m not a huge fan of him in that way, if that makes sense)

So let’s see… some thinks about me:

My Name is Alissa (she/her) no idea if you’ll include names or not but just to be sure

I have roots in Germany (the west to be oddly specific)

I have brown hair, brown eyes & my skin is probably what people would describe as tanned, but it must be natural since I barely leave the house 😂 fun fact because of that people also always thought I was adopted because my parents look very white

My hair is a bit longer than shoulder length and it’s really straight

I’m around 5‘3, if that’s something you wanna include as well

In my free time I often draw, mostly Portrait but sometimes also animals. I always hoped I could make this my profession at some point but I haven’t gotten that lucky yet. I’ll be working on it tho :)

I also read a lot and write a bit as well

I love all animals, especially dogs (I have one named Zoey)

My favorite color is Purple 💜

The most important thing in my life is definitely my family. I hate being away from them for too long. I’m very close with my mum and stepdad, they have always been there for me when I’ve had a hard time (back in school for example) since I was struggling a lot with anxiety and depression (wow feels good to admit that)

(You don’t have to use all of this, but I think it’s better if you have a few options so it’s easier to write)

I think that’s a lot of information already. If there’s anything I forgot please tell me, I’m really tired right now since I’m writing this at 2 AM so I wouldn’t be surprised if I did forget something 😂

Well, thanks so much for doing this. It’s such a sweet Idea 💗

- Alissa 🪐

hi!

thank you for participating :)

i ship you with benedict!

you’re an artist, like he is. it’s not a profession you can really make a living out of at the time, at least unless you’re already rich. it’s not a profession people generally respect, despite the greats becoming rich and famous. regardless of your skill level, or how well known your work would be, benedict would absolutely adore that you value art as much as he does. when he’d have a block, you’d give him ideas. you’d inspire him to create what he loves, not what others expect of him. you’d always encourage him to create, never judging his choices. whatever the outcome, you’d praise it. he’d never feel judged or embarrassed by you.

you seem like a gentle soul, which he’d really love. not only does he love art, but he loves literature and poetry. he’d think of you with every poem he read, and in any he writes. he’d see you in the gentle things of the world. a flower blooming in the first of spring, or one of the horses having a baby foal. you’d be a breath of fresh air for him, always making him feel light and airy. he’d be content as long as he was with you. if you didn’t want to go out, he’d be content to stay in. wherever you were, even if it was away from the ton, he’d be.

he’d also love that you value family. he cares so much for his, and is constantly surrounded by them. if you got along with them well, he’d love you even more. being around them, you’d never feel alone. but there’d still be days you felt alone, even with all of them around you. benedict understands this, being the second born son who is considered far less important than anthony by society. i think benedict struggles with his own mental illness. when you finally confided with him about yours, he’d think you were the bravest person in the world. getting up and facing every day with a smile on your face, despite your struggles, you’d inspire him even more, if that was even possible.

benedict would go through a period of a few days to week where he hadn’t drawn or painted anything at all. one day you’d walk in to see him sitting by the window, finally painting a sketch you’d seen him drawing in the weeks prior. a lavender flower.

“what are you doing, love? is that lavender?”

“it is,” he’d smile up at you, motioning for you to come closer. “lavender is said to reduce stress and anxiety. and i know purple is your favorite color. purple is associated with admiration. like mine for you.”

you’d nearly cry at his expression, smiling tearful down at him as he set down his brushes.

“we’re getting this one framed. i hope you know that.”

he’d chuckle, wiping his hands before wrapping an arm around your waist. “you like it then, i take it?”

“i love it,” you’d smile, bending down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “and i love you.”

“i love you too, darling.”

—

i hope you liked this! i really enjoyed reading about you and writing this for you. thank you again for participating :)

[libidomechanica]

S son

A sonnet sequence

               1

And bitterness. The doctors return in you are flower unfamiliarity breede. Each to die in beauty brighten that saves the painted fire and beautifie your own quadrille. Greatest living Child, the palaces! Of the wild; and seemed, or speak to her, opes she is smiling that Johnny burr, as careless as aged men; but what once about twice two spirits of Sicily: to northern seas I’ll be, thy mither, nor age such-wise she lines this kingdom!— Albeit I’m sure I didn’t say it—our Ida has a heart; as if foreseen that I fear you’re white Queens. Blistered the down and rain.

               2

The flame, should be dated some red doors gave conspicuous animals of verdurous glooms that softer rhyme, a modern quill employ, she quite so from this was not quit without much as they gain for here paper- gowned in safety to Neptune’s happiness, pleach’d started as if they are, embleme. Then possible song of the midst, where thing safely fedde. Made a sudden swell, full of late. Forsaken lady to prove nor can enlight find they seem like Munch’s Scream Fairies to the moment, dismay’d, no hurt my draught like resign thy heart, o charms, it scarcely afterwards burn clear from the bleachers.

               3

But thou hast thou art force by many Grace in arm: the king—was rosed with, God forbidden, perhaps he fetched man, tall, extremely— thou share you yours, surmounts there with pity, for a hundred hollow watch a heel, nae travelling sire and black chord. My still it backward on the rich of melodies, all blind my soul page after the purest minds and yell: Get out against that gaze at his forehead thinke thus: althought like a common cry and before all to thee, O Latmian persever’d and he world, and when, stupefied, I shall not. And almost to my heard noble hostess, nor common-place book.

               4

Not Eve, when bleak November, make you are clichés and thy capacious pearly did discourse, amongst your fierce agony too: why stamp of their cheered feel, or, knowing, health, my natural. Through her this life. Go call the rose, noble. His nearer blissful gentle Euphues, who, ere Time renders to might how far beyond the full growing, not wonder whose pleasure’s lay; seeing, as every session all plea commence, which, being blest, should drowne, into thee hence? But sicken of sentimental stone—sometime absent from my oblation in which did not at once shall seize thy yellow hair, shining for Aglaia.

               5

New: nought of every sensuall earth, into the stream: I cannot staies, who laughing, and ears, fourteen years the eyes first begin. Face coins the lass of Love’s excess, and where quiet place and led a hundred airy fellow smoke then, beholding: now your laborious blunder—if it be. But yet through the snowy bank the human that this with graves, and Johnny, Johnny! Have themes in pain, petitioned our court to settling rose, grape, cherry, cream but named. Face I say, There motley follies blend, and the family-likeness and cedar glooms in May, that in the moon in light from the Silver spake, and rejoice!

               6

Don Juan’s fall’n, may rise again, what I do not kneeled and did. To move about poetry, and hence could merely through her father drunken pleasure yield, for she and weeps; such cool me without delayed the springs the after that side of losing is a cursing, Now vse their silver Line divine. To his past so fair, an idle too, and made no sting, salving to thy hand, which he of God to goe: then in starch halls with ease the way to win. Bought; to see, the bark will kame thy rymes beneath to know not for Woes self, should hard upon the caused to it the same song his ill mither he may be.

               7

Not if you meet; long years of him hurry. Dying off, arms that care-worn sage, which her best wanes; who neither shed her bed, circling to a hundred maids, thy tenderness. The basement high of import both, or ear, or a satin heaven he great assault on a lawful awful, and having and have armed myself its most decree that least encumbered. Look, look up and I sooner fighter, and I won’t or can continent’s store; vanish we’ll never know where he weep. Like the sickle; I, poor patient and gray, which opens to kind: false heau’nly beames, and wear my hand, grasping through the women’s No.

               8

Whose pleasure thing the spring, sense of all that soft remembranceses? Of sweet, any part: and hate, and fleets and enough the price touch, risking love withdrew her Milk, she unobservative but the Mortal cloth’d; how waited on to giue my Rosalind, and leaves. Right cannot more admired of whom, how one softly from having dove with a stag. And light at they had I been resum’d in visitor. ’ Said you scorn drew forth a golden thou doubtful deems. That same loving came and I was a back-hoe. Whose quietly her idiot boy. And Tellus feels his pure Will to its inner clown: perhaps he held by the site once grown a prehistorians, her several languor wept: her full fifty yards and you were he did so break. Whether on him, in some rocks,—and which it bore, since then, sleepless counterpart, then far-spooming a picture link the lane has made excursive, breaks white should have known!

               9

Chalk mimics painting a basket empty teacups, the streets, their shafts of regret—no major tension House of two entities: myself too swift as farre of a city greatest down within a dream he was ever dwells, especial animals of a lie. Not till serpents the swollen at the wilder’d up his actions part; opening delight, as on the jawing weares as garments came to Nais paid: behold there, walk’d bad blood in dream, mither, a tide ebbs in some quiet breathless fairly earn’d; and many a scalding tear thee. And scattered them still fragments lights are fallen, having kiss!

               10

I was awful awful, and made lament redundant. To mar the ground, is she talked with thee into the holy was by one day we would not one? Could let the dear domestic streams now fired in this crystal place their shibboleth, God damn! Tress of traitorous in times through that isle of like in words. Icicles. Delicious and blaze up, all the deep scar of voyage, rank as a chin but their dam’s teats, who, ere we are drawne by one by imag’d thing by all well be, that same there we extinguish in. Followed: so the Sun, and hand as a day, sitting in their fresh and light, doe not understand.

               11

Fain would not love to the day I sit and understand: the grasps in passion with free scope, more you are sealed: I listens, stop thine own land for each others samphire, ’ through a ring, and thou hadst cool’d the white robe to me, now teares hungry lick about her hair of night to me. ’ The great Nemesis breath; thou pointed silence. I was colours leaves we love after midnight and therein. The water fair Maid, and nothing it up with all the Spirit would in an April rain, before realm, and the wide night fair wert nobler, that foam’d above thee stop here, tis not afraid of the womankind like Malthus, God of disappointment shews, his fire, pull’d my mind, love; it is teeming of dearths, or dancing so the shadow, and accomplish’d pleasant word too fond, when it would divided frame: and the Muses Hobbinoll, I blest with a psalmodic amble with the thirty mock tyrannizing was, shall stay.

               12

Hair, as I’ve got through a windows? Of mitigated their head, and Creation, he, made answered me—it shall enter’d morning pure with loved well-seeing great bronze for time; and upon the dying. He did shine, sudden rills float my sire, lifted from thee? Diverse? Said the owls in undiscended brethren of roses proclaim it then for spite, this transfer a weak, for Cupid’s sake! Rubbing a death: yea having at such pleasures drowning away, assured out the with circuit of your ain love. ’Er; common bulk, though the air my quiet die. And, silent high defiance. And singeth, and laughter.

               13

And by we’ll never dear! To one every side your loving in this line bore up the sea; the curly foam with cease to a pint of woe were she taught but love Gregory! As purply blank and gain and accomplice of fate: ’tis the world to slake thy brotherhood. As we scale the tableau intact. There and blind voluptuous lantern, instead of shamed by those dear love. Enjoys the arch through blind voluptuous lie huddled wonder understand: they length might not a gentle into his own sweet voice—I feel my widow’d wife, I knew, the whom Fame commends to the stone jaw of pleasures—touch’d the year.

               14

Can see, the best; like two great falls which of mind proves are figures see thee. That just a dream. Be Nature flower, not there in their parts, sisters three love, despite the forst the crush, but which, being here; he barks, my small, jewel’d sandals, and London’s first, your flocks did it soup? My lay, listened with most of vanish’d. Like airy plan, have fall of good woman, there: for the horseback have known them sometime she’s idle; let us meet; there hardly spight. The mother maidens are when the weeping our velvet bodies, that strong at my should I, afternoon—the words by the soyle, thou reviewest thunderstand.

               15

Through crowd confusion; here our fists around then! As dead: o let me home again such a care; they sat at their chief art instead! Thus far, go forth, have falling. And I sit writhing bullet tearily, and vaine on it; and the doors gainst my songster, some people, and white fingers; then falling feet emerged. The flowers or brake ourself, when the summer loathing weeds, to over thee that dirty spring was the evening, haue we in silent season, in five months’ time, when thou openest the trumpets, shoulder blade. Woman, so longer troubled hand; she is nourished. And speak as spider’s selfe to greet!

               16

I find thither; the rough which droop, and the only, you give it have thou leddest Orpheus through great and challendge to yon shrink to do. Like small king,—then along hair! And I thy capacious tears beset her in the earth, where birds from hanging that I can, i’ve done to die, her bones like an empire stern as Pluto bear it. Except the come of night, till serpents craft had yours, the magic: every soul abroad. That skims, or seas? Nor be my sweet and flow. When I’m laid aside like light in her faces levelling. Who in fear we not to bring you not till tempests. I do love’s loving the guide.

               17

His spirits do flowers; and the women comets, break it—What, not to sailed on ocean’s side, is in thee near death: which lent happy spirits need of warm Southey feel distemper right say some few sad thou lean in Fortune may be seen, on him, this face by her ministers and thy you to every mountain roe, with whom, how should come by trecheree didst though t is the woodbines within that their doubt, where he went thee to hear ye lie, ye lie, but I am so opprest, and thither; the said, and the forlorn! Thing but when then pitche, nor be contented: when she spite with vases, to wherefore.

               18

See the grassy lea, my necktie rich a minute than on continuous rage, whose royall round me, can live and gone in an angry word he saw Ilion? Than centaur Nessus garb of more, by poet’s debt; and one’s blue ladies, and though every brow, to light in light their average numerable question, or hope hope will know it, so we fall; and Susan Gale. Be better times each teach muscles of your eyes find the sage hide, stella, loadstar or blame, when I demaund of itself, in hand it have not too daring not only God, who is shifted him for Truth’s and then no tender a broken.

               19

That good mien, especial jury of man. Let us go and left my bad a perfect of a love in arm: they have seem’d quicken, so effect wouldst move them moved on with me that one to see. For sith red wine while his rage and great bronze for once more the green Chinese languid limbs are brief minutest fish would blush’d unseasons of your contrary; but having down one and quick which your side; they ask of me; well, and one monster. But Juan was colour’d by the tape separate, discompose that the old Chaldeans to wexe so little kind; nor services to a tempting her Soul crazed, was mere as marble.

               20

Spring, it light and perfum’d with a shelter’d from no Mother cheek,—upon me like angel from hanging and reproof’s a smile, lest Glory end what way;—juan yet another’s arms already, knows poor idiot boy? Deere, why make you meet; the Crucified. And now sees the should I see that make our golden clime. And which makes waters where lie perdue; for the might I’ll in heard them not appealing sun, thou pointest trees, and hideous roars, and consent, if nothing? Nor shall not have doom’d also of sober’d morning the soft air, or proudlier prancing into the most pretend then no tender sound.

               21

Poor Betty o’er all, not know them up: she set there, but could be thy love of comfort I expectant. But comes, a dull skies change grown land for ever and kin. Hard as a bus. And sank and, while each in the domed and losse office, fed by foul corrupting, is my lambs are belongingly I loved you, woman, if you with her fifteen, for affords. There new denizen had seen, he laid her hue changes ever falls which kills me without and fame witch of briars particle, should men who grew a long seal’d dear, dear officious heavy! In blood that lifts the night a sublime, but I as well of the pit.

               22

’Tis the sooty oil. The Sage would hoist my blue Peter, ’ and more, and he things though street, and takes through brows of beechen grew these words, where, the front of Lucy’s fervent ferment is on thy flocks, but now the the face, her madly; and, they once more quiet-coloured them the pinions and large Neptune, I burst their chances; then a wondering at there nor the vast of one weakeness to the casket empty air was his memory them up with cattle patient art which I doubtful deems. But, as I stood erect and dead; and there worth my brother I! Of powers, budded, and, into eternity.

               23

She saw me lying steps, and maist though the yard, the Spirit by each by mutual arms have been breast. Go, and now of three more conspicuous man. Fling on outside of richest over in misery hardest gazer drank more gaily claspt by my sisters and blows the port of humour. Thou wast the soft remembered country that we were mute to gaze on Amphion learned lucubrations in red bright, soft, unseen, lull’d delectable, and never, I’ll answers in. Is silent, save the way, and dead; or the middle of cheek open. And this is so good, Let us go and faire lands forlorn.

               24

War nor hero, as any other side. The Honeycomb; and there, them out their pivot he heard, and to say just struck a wounded, friend’s direct how to removed. Judas come heart so potently? And which other if I can shew the season, upon the last Review the virgin and now, that clings that said Blanched it solve if he doth light impart, when my steed and blows the women trade, ’ like kindling, but the mail, learning pure in the lawn running Lord Gregory come thrones—amid thing relief—cruel enchantment grew drunk, gamed, and dark, new born in the comfort but a day, the bottom peep?

               25

As sure she was certain o’er thy oaten pype began to proper plac’d that it into play the Third? These commodious plot for the dark. The meanings all are but stern, as we flit by each care of their long sea of what once arose in ponder I say, There is the print of her Hair down she had made of mercy? Peace of Love. That I meant the sea. I leaves on ever flowe. Fear to give fully fedde. Shirt is a great ships and this searing of poetry, and, stepp’d serene a goddess and never spouse—next, the foamy waves roars, and surely hand? Our enemies have lov’d three love-tokens than he.

               26

I would rate but waste, the fields and because you fell asleep tinkle home apace, her throw my voice, nor knew porphyria’s Love? And weary with savage glares arise against the only in my arms, be mine, each in every sweet faces that make: twas Johnny’s but Heaven knows poor for tear the name is a merry meeting of lost a things that which tears: while in her flowing in thy capacious poison’d, tis not so trim and grone. Time’s creeps beside us, knew several score to thee, nae timely, nothings be drowsy hour; bring into a crescent’s illuminated and down to quenchless cinders.

               27

And pearls not evenfall, and heels are won. Flocks did fall of good found not of joy that dies all humanity,—juan, as though for one—all perfum’d without our Serpent-skin of Evil; the foolish fires o’er that all, not your skirts had turned him for it. Me, if the world speaking the byrds, which Eve might his legs swollen at the dying. I came to the Queen of Lochroyan lay deeps, the world’s blast— thou wert true, the Muses you would water was a solitude; ye’re no come. Nor eluish gloom, light-winged China’s crockery-ware metropolis, or lives it a single with black distill’d off the near it grows cold.

               28

Before than might have climb, a dream of my face you see how cream, tho’ the love, despise. Poor Susan groans of a love nothing the and lived again set off you. And last fly to immortal names in me, the flowers. Formed of heaven’s blast—thou would opened against the wind, which Jack and kisses be made of lids the rack torture-pilgrimage of rest, Then she show. Let our way has become offices of power and began to survive. To any that great assault on a diverting than all the spring, with Heydeguyes, and long captivity; while the Doctor from her on his eyes burn blue.

               29

The rout clusters that love you yet mething relieve it?-Night, cliffs and thy beauty, farre of the wrath of comfort but she has no light had a constellation by nodding teares to enlarge eyes, my bonie was not wrong youth, and mine own refuse your Mother cared form, look into the goal, when armour clashed and he said, and huge jaw of nameless love: she bees gorgeous pageantry eye: o, for shall fancy’s spreading sea of songs within like a cloudy symbol-essence! A sidewalk, her several language of a giant’s bier she whom Fame comes beneath the word. And leaves hast too hard upon our pain.

               30

Oh gentle into each eve doth well lit, there dead weighed enormous down hither fruits of those power benign, for still woman! I to tarry: I ken thy scythe annulus— a planet, that he has for those Janizaries, and his shall be my sin you bastard in all in its way to win. Little girl? Dead are shepheards, which I doubt and turned on the sea. Whilst systers of the indentures. In the way right once more travels to the must do? I am losing in that in the victory white shouts—and motionless heavy artillery to picture, bravery truth in you have been begin.

               31

And laughters faire hand that beats its cold in dreams, before I’ll both for ever courteous though is mild! Ah wanton eyes, bright if it come and for the abysm-birth of mine have freeborn nativeness a lamp-lighting when thine own dove of twelve, and take ourself shalt her still, having pale oblivion, and many an ease me, which thou be’st Doubt! Invitation bestow’d upon the bridegroom the heedless lake, on which none puts by the current on deadly spight. A youth and lie therefore then, which wexen old Orinda call the Spirit is a honeysuckle. Lit with a blind where to slake my great, if nothing and question with you, letting you not till my pain! Hesitations of course of the sacred cherries some back to tears, letting on the roote of heaven. Had not married this is so vex’d with flaw-seeking it command,— i’ll writers use of orient pearly houseleek’s heaven.

               32

For thy siluer sought, I met this scent, by Aurora’s peering thereof, with gorges unexplore that has cause of one; nay in my arms championed gaze calibrating some of his heart of light lies lit without- end hour and heares. It promises light, and thy mother for such wonders motion not burn these warrant note do sink away from sounds; see lines out of prison! So they came, the come to know how far this fine: in souls we lose whom these question: and fit to all this great close enough thy praise and had been resum’d in view in year and that I’ll be knowne for Annie turned into some more.

               33

For I must value more trailed, which so sorely puzzled three parting, and cozenage; and as he a branch of London hisses? My bird with oxytocin or coloured every bad angel be time it sleepe, to the next way to open cannot keep them too: why stamp they all well he sleep in their poor good endure in the first doth common- sense! From out the Lady that so it will gain—or none lay their fairest, was boundless sight and sounds; if he fount it be. Her hair and you to bear hence, your idiot boy must ebb and fair, with a hero, as an infant’s side, is sickness; when, from her wand.

               34

If smiles, and blind my soul that beats its utmost word that I did always three eloquent woody dale; and that thou shall I lov’d an old man’s roves into some but thanks, that do sink with scoffing, and praised be above, around—But whence could pour out gratify a bee, like a word of English, with the face may betide with new words that by us, the white flannel trousers, and coral, thou should sleep. And now, break like a tranced in the elm-tops with the apple trees feel palpitation—I don’t know eterne Apollo singer, from the sky like scent wing, all marrow drained the hilts? A shoebox.

               35

With this Irish whiskey in his sweet desire; I am your cheerless, shall away, and happy lot, where they stood alive. Up therefore my head, my own Belovëd, I at last Duchess painted away throat untied her chin, and loud cried, is Freedom, he went from the moonlight bower was it seem’d, sweeping shafts of brother can ease me, i’ll fears; and wett your warm young, haue we in thine eye, high cliffs and taught with dry cheek or fades, mysterical,—he breezy air; but today a coffin for the young and times abroad, the devil take care about Judas, the moon’s last all grace. She fled ere day.

               36

And found then awakes us in the gruff companions of mid-sea, afloat, and even condemn’d, then regalities with the shrunk to me! No more. They as eas’ly their joy, I cannot tell, point after than he. Doubled hand or ever—Then a lawful package, and the auspices wake, my sweet there living laid by the down dead-heavy sank her common-place, thought footsteps behind; and my heard a noise and to booth. That break, soon that’s free informing a table; let us now fill your faithfull woe. Or him that rises from my eyes moved beyond his carried, unsought, weigh I, who would sigh’d!

               37

Renne after rhyme, so, she will be in a time hae I torture all my life, the Crown; a Star under the stayes to compensate, thought lights of light do the lucky, I stared at her eye, silent, straying you the dell, and the twilight as there’s no more be grieve me; for a placid lake came glimmering disaster. Of fresh petals are scatter angel waiting forth, white of her sense, or on my better growe. What mast of tongues were shepherd’s crockery-ware metropolis, or sat at thee. Mild is the palaces! Sweet it fly! That will builds up such a victorie, yet some native in self-same smil’d?

               38

Then is with light that which was meant, at all, the latest space-age gear blank to a Jew; both what Paradise of so great spirit: despaire at my should lend to help them not I heard a noise of her cheek. Since if the Fourteen years which nothing, or heart of hope came quiet sounds of the world-without, in the apple tree, a conquering over my debt to his hook and read loved, that heart’s endeared with blood. Turns out of blessed, a way of sea and coral, they saw them up with eager swirl gain’d lover’s vow they gaz’d upon the city, and forehead to my soul out the child. Ilka body now is this.

               39

She is hurt ye, or not to gas;—through all her name is On gold break. I oft have lied who ruine so consummation find: but such comes peace the flash, all round by thy brightly votes particular sorrow and in his learne the cliff-tops, she said You share. For scene of Wood a furlong from the two delight, within ken, thou hardly heart, my lasse, to west words; and ever yet withouten lincks of iron—when love look, and stands; save the Serpents to see if I meet this Fair One, and blind; and bad, that would cost your warrior thought what is not allowes, sweetness flicker, and pray you cannot be bitterness.

               40

Shining unseen light pinions shed on ocean must this horse, kneel’d down dead-heavy eyelids fine: in souls for a placid sandals, and up, to breath, my dear little darts as we send while ever upon Sion’s harp had water was his worth we let me free, till my spirits do suggest me in I do not enough can I am becoming hand, through it may live her eyes moved on my knee. There arose once more train across to the must not for great shining milk-teeth used up. With the next bestow’d upon his carelesse fere, there laws are in thee Proof that liberal, sine the salt sea deriu’d, tearing.

               41

Fast and unchange their chiefs, orators, queen, Fled is thine above, below, though Amaryllis danc’d to thy babe’s fated words you may thy hand—had grasps in Porphyria; straightway pass fleet as drown. But he lifts the room. Venus frowns are arming, no one by imag’d thine heart, I read against the cold, and to hell, my bosom is tumblings frae my delight He forced for a throne smoothly to my touched his way: soon was all that there, it cross the cause. Suspended on the moon. His troubled and much, and subtle for decision hooves. Which, being many, where never contrary; but never could be above!

               42

A rib’s a thin-pervading span, t will be time to pass fleet of sorrow from eight that’s the universe to cross they are. Have most of rock. Poor Tom was one as she heart wild Moor, the forms and bay; rough which three till happen when thou should melt from thee to more the moon’s lasting to run off where thee to the wall. When I am lost. Sings of an inspiration they all the rest: with silver. Shouted the wren through the moonlight, alone, for Johnny’s lips were shepheards rude. And in the flash’d them all—the earth, we stood last yearning to each other limbs still-kept course must do the lower empire, as well.

               43

We fill—we fill—we fill—we fill! Hale streams my sense of all his ransom, being dumb; the hostess, not a few specially if new, or folk of your advice, to languish, ioylesse, and floats the sullen thunder, Do I dare to cheek open. And loved beyond a strangers as lordly and pay our pretie case, pitie there, to bride in the paired bodies, then dinner, pursued his travel them more graunt; but shakes to acquaintance who lord Gregory, and he then there white Queen of Heaven is the love, my Lady Blanche at distances straight them what to all thee: ah Christian coast; how Vlster like taper-flame to his Head.

               44

No matters down from other ’fore we may, and years beset her, by the hopeless bene withdrew from the root when the women fasted, ere were born at Bethlam? Of day- tide, on which steal about the certain o’er then the fuel of light your body one deepest in: o Moon! Amid his ill minions of Kings a solitary pastures rude and griefe; and give; of moons, and we adores all over blue stony bases for Neptune’s palace, where exceed the holding freshest vengeance can see its heart of heaven’s blast—thou wert noble Fame therefore. As whom my body is writ each other side.

               45

The sad heart it went on deserted by love so tender semi-tone, more this restless, me no more: I will I touch, risking more been cease upon the dew of Peace upon bed. Sense of deer moving mute, in its words were harbrought—o Greta, dear man, tak down between us, I am not, since dawn that my bear her compare. On the king: thaw this is a morning the air sight me had not hollow hair, as yet why that attempt with many maidens are pass the morning zeale, by the town she hies, but still it growing on the upper in another. Chuse to bring at the next tell you all?

               46

Of forest root; and she’d never hurts ye. Thus the Whigs? Strokes the wrathful Dian’s named mount Pleasure quaff until the bases for they reacheries unfold of truth, and joinèd hand, and the tongues resort. A genius or under; sweetest out with my wrong forth a golden chariots trance, stock the evening eyes, mystery, pledge might sky, a delay, tis not a joy,—a pet-lamb in a groves o Shadow flits and all the moon shine so pale for to this, or when though my known through the rose-red with a bitter. These things; alas, why, fearing world! Record, her uterus an evening disaster. Where quickly, before arose: a place of him? The flowers all his base had been my songs that sin in me but under thee. Not for my side, these word. A dove, without depth, with hoary hed: and in gold sandals, and Salámán of Auspiciously a forlorn child the palace. In water sinne of this task of joy.

               47

But my body griefs alike to traced as though all night. But Tom’s no open cans was an inch of bread out of peril and think men love. Seats unscalable but thee and changed, and wild, even so higher views upon his tongue would lay at home. Though I’m sure as thou were blue look upon the other best, our young, but, in all of golden breath of winds war; and past a shadow flits and three; and tunes, and say it is in to-night I was whole again. Moving came, and leviathan, and broken particular sorrow brings; the outward view, he gaz’d upon the Lady Blanche: much the most of rock.

               48

Of being both be heart, I see the owlets throwing of women must convert; or else to our daysleep, in May, in that much empressed. Chariots in for joy; she waterspout had you think, my Soul found. Such is his sovereign, which done, with the other side of the times now a word and sad-sighing towards burnt by cigarettes as when we were still call back: Hello the circuses, so cold. The door, to tell the billows, they heart, o charming, the depth and my mind the heart. Tis not what worth thy sacred mountain pine at my side, untied a kerchief, crying her the night light! The ball. You trouble.

               49

Warmth, whereof at first was afraid of the Princessant misery hardest from annoy, pregnant of into his arms were this lips they grew to be from thee, that from me. Though I can perceiving pale face and roar’d out. Can warm of female which was sexually wrapped crack like mine, for only he, but a ray. To cease not dreamy urn; farewell, so nutty, and people who all carry back and blows loud hath of shame of you the wet with sovereign’d before us, Cyril, batter, I am a shelter for wings of a bullet tears, and I turn’d all hope, with a tongues could dree, and for you.

               50

Of doors to one where must take thee and fears the question, thoughts for the glimmering was in Banquo’s glass! The brink, loue did give it have done to his actions in one and as thy fingers on thy verge it is the moonlight dale; and all that kisses the site the woods and step to be preferr’d the dome pomp, reflectionary hints can tax my mild! Had she guessed flock early or late, our girls of Rome did but dress’d between us, I see your report, She faint visions frame: i, cumbrous flesh as we scales of the youth, ceruse, against the magic casement we send arrived with the bees humming roses.

               51

And that ’twere place forms a two-part can win a country greedy thirst to wand’ring, is call, as doth unladen breathless fairest, but when thence with trust, not over in some scene—the proper times hath from my neck the excursive in women is, but not enter, if he would see, before hardly he had open further, me, the meadows, overjoy’d, we are all already, known that you wast nor there laws are holds his lips are alive without a little birds sight more thank’d, and I, whylst you. His little state and thus my story stranger, my death-shadow stood in thy dear. But let it on its rude.

               52

Truth seems, a hope hope hoped some mystical eye-glare of twilight road, and true, begin that I sing from fair. Sitting her for the dreame, and from though public learned lucubrations to the common change decrees of things of Pleasant fruit nor Nature of her glance between the twelfth fairy-press or his pace is sinne of the Turkish new mankind, and we were green, and go talking to thee steals in a secret missing a hand to guides the wind, or water flicker, and thus aloud in his lips had love the stroke her hath taken in her lustrous dew. Just be a reproduce then when the Crucified.

               53

Both lie, viewing, and the ring mossy ways. You senses the seav’n from a farther. So thousand are two great Nemesis break like the poet’s, too, up to Charing Cross, match’d me once me here, or, seeing hand is safer: on toward them—whose tall as dead, thy foot, a well denote love’s missal through blind eyes as when you read again! Her ready more will be dieted with thee freeze, and she heard much, or Paint must do the tyrannizing Boreas,—and falsely what to her perpetual light beneath a psalmodic amble beneath. Every part of question oft rues had she had thee. I might sky, and bent.

               54

Young, but tender ear in the power of losing isn’t hard upon it, but me. As if a sharp’st intelligible, with his train once too blame; whatever must post will sayd, still: fond love speak of blossom nips. Put on my bones like airy fellow! Late authors pasture, but hath left poor old Susan Gale, old Susan Gale, old age so serene a goose: her full clear from the right, and we’lltalk of your Doves, her body being so fair, as careless bene with cattle turrets and she spake, and, full of men. Arise, and freckled Chloe, whose vegetable green shades hath breathlesse Jesus, whose body’s gift.

               55

Thought, love, your heard the brain can enlight beneath may prove fair eyes their shafts of traitor, too well, full of taxborn rock, at they came. Till love so wooden gavel. That had before; oh dear Clarinda, friend to her, to crossing designs in empurple in another limbs o’er it a cobweb-lawn; they would have lied who remembers. The stay’d his spires up like scene or though his fairly earn’d; and was in company, can lend, and blaze, yearning that hear it. One obscure his gore, hey ho! But who passe: this your like night, that is it? Handsome slender far away into thee hence all, her idiot boy!

               56

Of a wretched the talk about, lounging cloak and ripe-ear’d the Musky Locks divided me a spoil among somewhat did through Rows’ most unmeek,—I knew what wicked deede: and fall the down when from hiding-place as gay and the red dogs lie huddled wonders sped; but adoring, slow, and that I never should rate but shakes and ill where nothing my sad slaves on a Saturn’s vintage! Love with rose-enamel. Right strike fruit among the fire and thy coral diadem, out- sparkling safely. And death may still aching up Pall Mall, and through the ring it was o’ the Fates but Heaven, down she lover.

               57

Into my o’er-sweeten my heart swelling simples, to her limbs still in true a fool is love; yet when I sawe Calliope wyth Muses up than when pleas’d, but wish would speake in woefull Colin, I lament is very face, the time, what thou; go then, my own Incompetence; The old Charon’s so true Honour door. Nor servant once are her: and day,—till through which is mornes messengers on a step aside likewise might sair she drowne, all is turn on the type of heav’nly paradise, ’ which the sprang sublime, the radio comes,—the best was a fishes’ tails. Made tongue, a heart it weight of his hand.

               58

Himself like a razor he was wont to weave their tiptop nothing things removed. But be chance, but what is, is; then to move, and a voice I hung low! On our neck; her curl upon an heiress ooz’d out, and her body torments doen, when thou dost them in the sea. Scuttling upwards from, their eyes where many a want forward. I dar not, yet speach, alas, this Chapel were buried. ’Ve spun. For thy flock early too. Sweet voice, and now she’s at there are in their operation— if he will she is his own imaginary. That all with what you wert true, my nets would have done, and frowns worn instead.

               59

Yet, which altering guide appeare; our Mother meet but if, both periwinkle train set early go’st proceeded frae the last flashlight with those fault I bringeth, while the the self-viewed,—nothing groan—who before the root when they do not contented: when therein all sink away from thee to its native mud on the domed and love, mostly my angel in honey has not more holy worth to the truth; and wipe my life or dear, tis not lie as stranger, miles, and live! Rage, rage asswage. That is in most of road, and in Song like child. How change thou hast brought in at you sit to teach the meadow, and for a passport, or your Faith thousand Powers all men%u2019s soul, whatever watchful wight smiling children fairly dinner, pursue from monarchs to the humanity,— juan, as the stand stiff as before my heart, which refuses to eat a nation, poor old Susan lay at his right; tis scarce knew.

[mrcurystape]

their favorite places to kiss !

✧･ﾟ: feature. steve harrington, eddie munson, jonathan byers x reader [gn]

✧･ﾟ: cw. fluff ; lowercase, established relationship, uhhh proof read? ..sure

✧･ﾟ: note.  just something sweet for the kids ;p was gonna add nancy and robin to this but it got too long and im lazy and tired So. just have the guys i guess.....

back to m.list :p

steve harrington.

neck + shoulders

your lips are his number one choice, of course. but your neck is his second favorite. steve likes to have you sitting on his lap when relaxing, with your back pressed against his chest. because he can’t reach your lips easily, steve settles for pressing ticklish kisses against the back of your neck. suddenly feeling his warm lips sends shivers down your spine; you turn around and that's when you realize you’ve fallen for steve’s trap.

he immediately pulls you closer to press even more kisses against your neck and shoulders, each one making you giggle. you can feel steve smiling against your skin. you’ll have to physically push him off if you want him to stop.

eddie munson.

back + stomach.

to eddie, you’re a work of art. sculpted so perfectly like you’re meant to be put on display in an art museum. to him, it feels almost illegal to be able to touch you so intimately; and eddie makes sure that with every kiss you can feel his adoration for you.

he takes his time with you, his touch is so gentle yet firm. most times, he’ll have his hands firmly grabbing your hips while eddie lays between your legs, kissing up along your stomach. other times, eddie will start out kissing your shoulders and trail down to the small of your back when you lay on your stomach. his hands gently caressing your skin. no matter what he does, his touch makes you feel like you’re on a cloud. so airy and light, you can’t help but sigh.

jonathan byers.

hands + forehead

jonathan’s a simple guy. a little awkward, but it’s what makes him cute. he likes cuddling with you in bed, facing you while his hands are intertwined with yours. jonathan has this cute dopey smile on his face, his cheeks are all pink because he can’t stop smiling. he’d bring up your hands and kiss the back of them, your knuckles, and the tips of your fingers. whispering how much he loves you while doing so too. he’d also do it while listening you ramble on about any topic you had in mind, taking in every word you’re saying as he peppers light kisses to your knuckle. you may or may not get distracted…

other times, when jonathan’s the big spoon, he’ll kiss your forehead occasionally. he won’t say much though, he lets the simple affection speak for itself. one hand will be pressed against the back of your head while the other is brushing hair away from your face to kiss you better. when he’s in a real loving mood he’ll kiss the tip of your nose, and both cheeks before finally giving a chaste kiss to your lips <3.

© em0dere ; 8.5.22

rbs always appreciated!!

[saturnville]

canvas.

pairing: klaus mikaelson x black!reader (alana)

warning: fluff. 2019 writing *bleh*

content: klaus asks alana to be his canvas

a/n: it’s the way i posted this on my previous writing acc, forgot about it, and deleted the acc! i thought i lost it until i logged into google docs and saw i saved it 🥺. so here we are!

divider from @firefly-graphics

“How would you feel about being my canvas?”

His question causes confusion to arouse as her fingers abruptly stop moving throughout his course locks, causing him to pout slightly.

“Your canvas?” she repeats, her eyebrows furrowed. She feels him nod against her bare thigh. “Don’t you think I’m a little too...dark?”

Alana’s question and hesitant tone immediately causes him to shake his head rapidly, his soft hair scratching against her flesh.

“Never that, love. Your complexion is beautiful, and you aren’t too dark to be my canvas, that is, if you want to be.”

Alana bites her lip gently, and resumes brushing through his hair with her fingertips. With a shrug of her shoulders, she agrees with a soft, “okay.” She can tell Klaus is content with her answer as she can sense that boyish smile creeping upon his lips.

He raises from her lap and stands to his feet. He holds a hand out for her to take and she looks at him with her head cocked to the side, “Now?”

“Yes, now. C’mon.”

Klaus’ art room is a beautiful place. Unlike their outside life, it’s so bright, airy, and full of life. As soon as you walk in, you’re met with an array of pieces he’s created. He tends to keep the acrylic paintings towards the left side of the room while he allows his sketches to take purchase on the right. In the middle against the central wall, there’s plain canvases posted against it, begging to be used. Alana smiles. He chose her instead.

“Sit right there, darling,” he instructs gently, gesturing towards the chair that he placed in front of the mirror, so she could see him at work.

She nods and turns the chair around, so her front is against the backrest. Alana turns her head to the right, seeing Klaus shuffling through a multitude of acrylic paints and a variety of brushes.

He senses her eyes on him, but he pays her no mind as he grabs the gray art pallet Elijah has gifted him not too long ago. He definitely has put it to use, as it has been stained by paint.

Klaus squirts a few colors into the small grooves and grabs his cup of paintbrushes along with a small cup for water.

He sets them on a stool and pushes it towards her. He then grabs another chair and placed it right behind her, taking a seat.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asks her gently, his fingers brushing against her back. She nods and smiles, nervous yet eager to see how it’s going to go.

“Take off your shirt for me,” his voice is deep and gruff. Alana lifts her shirt over her head and places it on the backrest of the chair. Unclipping her lace bra, she tosses it to the side.

Klaus pulls his sleeves up towards her forearms and takes his pallet and brush into his hand.

“Oh, that’s cold,” Alana shivers as he glides the large brush down her back. He smiles softly, his dimples becoming prominent.

“You’ll get used to it.”

Within moments Klaus is fully invested in the art he’s creating on Alana’s back. He hasn’t said a word in the last twenty minutes, rather his brush speaks for him. The gentle strokes express his light, airy aura whereas when they get a bit harsher, she can tell he’s either purposely trying to apply pressure to emphasis a certain element, or he’s become frustrated.

Alana raises her head and looked at their reflection in the mirror. Her hair is tied up and sits in a bun upon her head, and her bare body is shielded by the backrest of the chair. She shifts slightly.

Behind her, Klaus looks so handsome. He’s leaning backward, observing his work while twiddling the brush between his thumb and index finger. His bottom lip is trapped between his teeth, and he looks to be thinking hard about his next move. He then runs his tongue over his bottom lip, dabs the brush in blue paint, and adds to the painting on her back. She moves again to put her head back on her arms.

Alana hums at the feeling of his large hand gripping her hip. “Stop moving.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles back with a soft smile.

Klaus drops his brush into the cup of water and runs his hands over his thighs. “Finished. Want me to take a picture?”

Alana nods eagerly. The hybrid fishes for his phone and snaps a few pictures of his latest creation. He hands the phone to Alana, who gasps when she sees the beautiful artwork done on her back.

He’s painted an underwater scene. The water, which he created with different hues of a deep blue, is filled with a variety of wildlife. She sees a jellyfish, a school of goldfish, coral reefs, and many more. She runs her index finger over the painting and towards his signature at the bottom. She snickers.

“This is beautiful, Klaus,” Alana expresses as she turns around, holding her arm over her chest. Klaus grins like young boy who’s been gifted a cookie for completing his chores.

“Thank you.”

She leans in, her hand on his thigh, and presses a soft kiss against his lips. Klaus moans in content. Pulling away slowly, she whispers, “I’ll be your canvas any day.”

[this-is-what-makes-us-fandoms]

Lost || Lab Rats: Elite Force ||

Chase meets a girl at the city’s art museum who strikes up a conversation with him but he’s reluctant. After what happened with Reese and Rodissius, he’s completely lost his will to trust others, especially random strangers that approach him. Little did he know that the two of you share that same fear

Pairing: Chase Davenport x Reader

Warnings: None

Words: 2K

A/N: I give you… soft Chase? Sort of soft Chase? Anyways, I haven’t properly written in a year and this is what I come back with first… Did I do good? I like it, and it feels different from everything I’ve written before, like more genuine. Anyways, enjoy and I hope you all liked it!

Chase stood in the Centium Art Museum, in front of a Monet painting that he’s already seen dozens of times. He wasn’t quite looking at the painting though, more like lost in his thoughts. Thinking about the things he came here to escape from but they only followed.

He wasn’t typically the type of person to come to an art museum, leaning more towards science. But it was quiet here, a place where he could come and collect his thoughts in peace. Somewhere where he could escape from his teammates and their pestering about things he didn’t want to talk about. Here, he could let go of himself and not worry about a single thing for just a few hours.

Plus, he was discovering a new side of himself, one that did enjoy the spoils of art. He liked the creativity and the sense of tranquility art brought. It taught him how to let go and be someone else besides Chase Davenport, bionic hero. To be himself rather than what others wanted or expected him to be. What he expected himself to be.

“Beautiful, isn’t it,” A voice said beside him, startling him out of his thoughts.

He turned his head to see a girl standing next to him, staring at the painting in front of. He tensed up just a bit, caution filling his being as he continued to look at the girl. She looked harmless, from her profile view he could see a delicate smile and gentle eyes. Nothing about her screamed threatening but that didn’t stop him from keeping his guard up.

The last girl he talked to also appeared non threatening and she ended up hurting him the most. So regardless of her appearance, he wasn’t about to let her or anything distract him. At least not like that, no, never again.

You tore your gaze away from the painting and turned your head to look at the boy. You noticed how he was just staring and your smile widened just a bit to show that you were friendly. He looked a little startled so perhaps you shouldn’t have snuck up on him.

“Sorry, I hadn’t meant to scare you. It’s not often I find someone admiring Monet’s work so deeply,” You told him.

“It’s fine, I just hadn’t noticed you there. But yes, his work is beautiful,” He replied, still weary.

“I’m {Name},” You introduced, turning full body to face him, hand outstretched in front of you.

He hesitated for a second before doing the same, softly grasping your hand in his and giving it a gentle shake. “Chase.”

“It’s nice to meet you Chase,” You replied.

You let your hand gently slip away from his before it fell behind your back. Your eyes casted downwards before shooting back up to meet his gaze, finding your heart beating a bit faster than usual. You couldn’t deny that he was attractive, more than you had expected him to be.

“Likewise,” He said shortly.

You broke your gaze from his and turned to look back at the painting, one you’ve already looked at hundreds of times. But each time you did, it was like looking at if for the first time. And you always managed to find something new in it every time you came back.

“So may I ask what brings you here?” You asked.

He didn’t reply right away, he was unsure of what to say without being so revealing. He could just say he liked art and the quiet atmosphere, nothing there that could give him away.

“I like the art and it’s quiet enough to think without interruption,” He told you.

“I can agree with you there. I love coming here and just getting lost in the art,” You said.

He hummed out in response, once again unsure of what to say or do. He was still trying to figure out what your plans were with him. After all, he couldn’t fathom the idea of someone actually being interested in him. Many people have proven that to him, that no one could actually like him.

“Would you like to get coffee or something?” You asked, interrupting his train of thought once again.

He thought about if for a second, trying to decipher any hidden meaning behind your words. He couldn’t tell with your bright smile and even brighter eyes if there was any. Although maybe this way, keeping you close, he could figure out your intentions before you could reveal them.

“Sure, coffee sounds good,” He replied, noticing how you seemed surprised.

“Okay, great! I know a coffee shop nearby,” You told him.

Before he knew it, you had led him out of the museum and down the streets of Centium City. He could only follow behind and listen to you promise that this place was great. There was something about your tone of voice that pulled at his heart. The way your voice was so light and airy, and didn’t miss a beat to your words. It was cheerful and bubbly yet soothing and calming, a certain je ne sais quoi if you will.

Before he knew it, the two of you were sat at a table, waiting for your drinks to called out. The two of you sat in silence for a bit, sitting across each other. Chase had his hands folded neatly on the table, slightly twiddling with his thumbs as he wondered if he should speak up. You took it upon yourself as you looked at him and spoke up, same tone in your voice as before but softer now that the two of you were indoors.

“So, besides art, what are some other things you like?” You asked, interested in getting to know him.

He furrowed his eyebrows at your question, this felt like some sort of interrogation tactic. Or maybe it was just you genuinely interested in him. Could he allow himself to believe that? Well, regardless of what you were trying to do, he needed to be a step ahead and make it seem like you had the upper hand in this.

“Well, its all things you probably wouldn’t be interested in,” He replied.

“Oh? And why is that?” You asked, raising an an eyebrow in amusement.

“No offense or anything but most people, especially girls—women—aren’t interested in what i’m interested in,” He explained, leaning back in his seat and shifting in it a bit. His heart raced a bit as he thought of what an idiot he must’ve sounded and looked like right now.

“Mm, enlighten me, pretend I’m someone who is typically interested in that sort of stuff,” You said, giving him this smile that made his heart skip a beat.

He leaned forward again, your words piquing his interest and his guard dropping a bit. “Science mainly, well its a lot more than that,” He started off, quick to go into a tangent of all the things science.

You listened closely and intently, a smile pulling at your lips as you noticed how excited he seemed. You leaned forward, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as he continued to talk. He looked up after a few minutes of rambling, stopping mid-sentence when he noticed you staring at him. He stopped altogether and leaned back in his chair, putting up his defenses once again as he mumbled.

“What? Is there something on my face?”

“Hm? No, no, I was just enjoying you ramble is all,” You told him.

His eyes widened a bit in shock before narrowing down at you. “Okay what’s your deal?”

You opened your mouth to speak before the voice of a barista calling out your drinks interrupted. “Hold that thought, I’ll go get our drinks.” You said before getting up and leaving him alone in his seat.

He sighed softly as he waited for you to come back, bouncing his leg in anticipation for your return. You came back a minute later, two mugs in hand as you set his drink down in front of him before taking your seat. He looked down at his drink before looking up at you, eyebrows still furrowed.

“What do you mean? Did I say something I shouldn’t have?” You asked, referring to his question from before.

“I mean, this, you, pretending to take an interest in me... What are you really up to?” He told you, his lips turning downwards in a frown.

“Pretending? Who said I was pretending?”

“Oh come on, you’re not really interested in what I have to say, are you?”

You frowned slightly and furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, not understanding why he thought this. “Well, I will say I’m not the biggest science buff... but I do like to learn and I like listening to what others have to say. Maybe I don’t fully understand everything you’re saying but it doesn’t mean you can’t teach me.”

“Alright fine, say all of that is true but why me? What makes me so interesting to listen to?” He asked.

You stayed silent for a bit, biting down on your lip and pulling it between your teeth before speaking up again. “You want the truth?” You asked back, watching as he gave you a short nod in yes. “Okay... Today wasn’t the first time I noticed you in the art museum. I’ve seen you a few other times, always so lost in thought... but its just that, you seem lost. Like you’re looking for an answer that you can’t quite reach...”

Chase was taken aback by your words, eyes widening a bit and leaning back; pushing his mug away a bit and folding his hands again, fiddling with his thumbs.

“Okay but what’s so meaningful about that? Why take an interest in it?” He questioned.

“Because I know what that feels like,” You answered all too quickly, eyes casting downwards and shying away a bit as you continued. “To search for something that should be right in front of you but isn’t. To feel like you’ve been set off balance and not knowing how to regain control. Guess I was drawn to you because of that.”

You kept your gaze down on your mug, hand wrapping around the handle and resting there as your thumb lightly caressed the rim. You bit down on your lip, feeling self-conscious now that you revealed a part of yourself that had meant to stay hidden. Chase looked down for a second before looking back up, his gaze softening from your words. He understood now why you approached him and why you’d been so adamant to get to know him. You two were one in the same, both had gotten hurt by someone or something and were looking for a way to mend yourselves.

“I’m sorry,” He spoke up, voice soft and sincere.

“Don’t be,” You said. “I would’ve been defensive too if I were you.”

You looked back up and offered him a warm smile, one he returned with the same warmth in it.

“Well, if I haven’t completely ruined this, I’d still like to get to know you,” He said, a hopeful tone in his voice.

You laughed lightly and smiled more, nodding your head a bit. “You haven’t ruined this at all and yes, I’d like that.”

He looked at you with bright eyes and gave you this wide, goofy grin. You spent the rest of that day, sitting in that little cafe, talking and getting to know each other. And for the first time in a long while, the two of you felt like you’d found someone you could trust again.

[spicykitteh]

Chill

Photo credit: Evgeny Karandaev

Pairing: Jean Kirschtein x fem!Reader, Sasha x Connie

Rating: 18+ NSFW, MDNI!

Word Count: 1.7K

Notes: Modern college AU, characters are aged up to early 20s, established relationship.

CW: Ice play, slightly rough sex -- more vigorous than rough, hint of edging, switch Jeanbo

Summary: On the hottest day of the year, Jean and his girlfriend try to find a way to cool off.

Jean sighed heavily as he punched the disconnect bubble on his phone. “Looks like we’re going to be sweating this weekend.”

“Are you kidding me? We pay this landlord a fortune every month and he can’t even bother to get over here and fix the air conditioner on the hottest week this year?!” YN plopped down on the threadbare brown sofa.

Jean had mentioned last week he had a bad feeling about the rattling the window unit had been making, shaking itself hard enough to sprinkle yellowed plastic shards and dust on the floor underneath it. This morning as the temperature climbed it seized with a deafening shriek. The four roommates tried poking and prodding at the thing though they all knew they had not a shred of mechanical aptitude. Jean spent nearly an hour arguing with the landlord but in this heatwave every repair service in town was booked completely.

“I guess the good news is Mr. Bozado said he wouldn’t charge us for the repair,” Jean offered weakly as he gulped lemonade. He swiped a hand across the sweat beading on his forehead.

“He better fuckin’ not,” Connie growled from the floor where he was sprawled out fanning himself with a hastily folded paper fan. “We didn’t break that junky thing, it was already half gone when we moved in.”

“I’m going to take a nap in the basement, it’s at least a little cooler down there,” Sasha said as she started opening windows for a cross breeze on her way to the basement steps. Connie tossed his makeshift fan on the coffee table and stomped heavily down the stairs in her wake.

YN glanced over to Jean who was draining the last of his now watery lemonade from the glass. “My room in the attic is way too hot. Is it ok if I stay in your room this weekend?”

Jean smiled over the rim of the glass and his honey eyes sparkled. “Sunshine, I don’t remember the last time you slept up there on your own since we came back from the beach.”

“Well, ok, that’s fair,” YN conceded with a wave of her hand. “It’s not like you’d let me sleep alone anyway, Little Spoon.” He set the glass on the coffee table where condensation pooled around the base and soaked the cork coaster. His knee nudged into hers as he sat down next to her and kissed her temple, tasting the salty sweat trickling from her brow.

“Just admit you can’t keep your hands off me, babe.”

“I can’t,” she turned her head to meet his lips as he bent to kiss her again. “Right now, though, it’s too hot for that.”

Jean agreed, leaning forward to peel his sweat-drenched t-shirt off. “Damnit, it’s like a furnace in here.” He scooped up his empty glass and motioned to hers with it. “Do you want another glass of lemonade?”

“Sure,” she exhaled and leaned back into the sofa. Jean strode through the archway that separated the kitchen from the living room and scooped ice cubes from the container in the freezer. YN snatched Connie’s paper fan from the table as she watched Jean filling the glasses with ice and lemonade, admiring his bare torso and amused by the way his lips curled into a wicked grin and his eyes flicked over to her, roaming shamelessly over her body. He chugged his glass until it was empty, then filled it again with only ice. He brought her cup to her and grasped her hand to pull her up from the sofa.

“I have an idea, c’mere,” he squeezed her hand as he led her to his bedroom and shut the door behind them. “It’s a few degrees cooler here since it’s on the north side of the house. Besides that, I thought you might like to get out of those clothes and try something with me.” He took her glass and set it on the nightstand next to his.

“Mmm, what have you got planned for me?” she smiled as she slipped out of her cotton t-shirt and denim cutoffs, revealing the black lace bra and panties underneath. He flashed that damned adorable crooked grin as she unclasped his belt and let it dangle to focus on unbuttoning his jeans, the soft blue denim whispering through her fingers and dropping to the floor. Despite the stifling heat in the room her core felt hotter when she palmed his hardness through his boxers. He laced his fingers into the soft strands of her hair and tilted her head back to press his soft lips to hers, sucking gently on her bottom lip, her jawline, her earlobe.

“You’re a bit overdressed for what I have in mind, madame.” He hooked his fingers under the elastic of her panties and pulled them down her thighs. She shimmied out of the material and Jean swept her into his arms and lowered her onto the bed. His touch on her skin was like fire rushing through her veins that the breeze from the ceiling fan did little to cool off. He strode over to the window, propped it open and flicked on the small fan on his nightstand. His long fingers reached into his glass and deftly plucked out an ice cube. “Can I try cooling you down?”

She nodded and he stretched out beside her, nibbling at her flushed skin, letting the ice cube melting rapidly in his palm drip down the delicate skin of her throat, onto her collarbone, pooling in the valley between her breasts. His tongue chased the droplets, leaving a trail of goosebumps raised on her flesh and confusing her nervous system with the alternating chill of icy water and the heat of Jean’s mouth dragging against her skin. She arched her back against him, crying out when his chilled fingers slipped underneath her to unhook her bra and felt a light nip against her shoulder as he dragged the strap down her arm with his teeth. She shivered as his soft lips pressed kisses into the curve of her breast, her nipple brushing against the scruff of his jawline. He licked over the pink peak, sighing as he enveloped it with his lips and suckled hungrily.

YN’s fingers threaded through his strands, pulled him closer as she thrust her hips into him. His cock had already breached the fly of his boxers and pressed against her bare leg, the heat of him like a brand against her thigh. She traced a finger up the length of his shaft, her fingertip circling his sensitive tip and tracing over his slit. An airy moan broke the seal of his lips around her nipple.

“Oh fuck, honey,” was all Jean could manage between pants, mouth open, jaw jutting forward. His weakness ignited a primal urge in her to pounce on him, and she did. He easily rolled to his back with the press of her hand against his chest, watching her through heavily lidded eyes.

“Aren’t you hot with so much clothing on, baby?” she smirked and teased her forefinger under his waistband. He quickly discarded his boxers over the side of the bed. “That’s better. My turn now.”

She scooped an ice cube from his glass, tilting her head back but maintaining eye contact with him as she dropped the ice into her mouth, allowing the melt to trickle down her parched throat. She leaned over and kissed his neck lightly, then parted her lips just enough to blow chilled air over the sensitive skin behind his ear. Jean closed his eyes and sucked in a sharp, quavering gasp. “God, that feels good.”

She continued her trail of kisses down his throat, pausing to lick at the hollow just above the center of his collarbone and relishing in the salty tang of his skin. She pushed what remained of the ice cube along with her tongue until it had melted into a small pool on his chest. With one finger she pushed the droplets over his burning skin to scrawl in lazy arcs, her art punctuated with a kiss to his nipple. A whispery breeze through the window sighed in tandem with Jean, followed by the low rumble of thunder somewhere in the distance. YN pursed her lips and blew lightly across the pooling liquid, fascinated with the way his skin responded in goosebumps and how he gasped at the temperature change. She continued mapping every inch of him, the ridges and valleys of his abdomen, his sensitive navel, the smooth valley where his hip joined his pelvis so tantalizingly close to his tower of a cock.

“Please,’ he panted, “baby, I can’t take any more teasing, please!”

“Please what, sweetheart?”

“Please, please fuck me,” he tossed his head side to side on the pillow, his soft hair damp with sweat now mussed and sticking up at wild angles.

“You started this game, are you giving in so soon?” she sat back in amusement, enjoying how worked up Jean was for her.

“You’re driving me wild, babe, I need you,” he huffed impatiently.

She grinned and dropped to all fours, straddling his thighs and grazing her nipples up his torso until she was face to face with him. “Then come get me.”

Jean lost no time bucking up into her at a frenzied pace, his hands grasping desperately for her bouncing tits, her waist, her hips rocking in rhythm with his.

“Jean! Jean! Oh fuck baby,” she cried out with each powerful thrust of his hips.

He was too lost in his lust-clouded mind and could only respond with a whine, his long eyelashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks. She was at his mercy now, hanging on helplessly to his shoulders while he fucked her through wave after wave of powerful orgasms until he came deep inside her with a roar. A peal of thunder rattled the pane in the open window, followed by the steady patter of raindrops subsiding into a gentle thunderstorm. A cool breeze, heavy with petrichor, billowed through the curtains, much to the relief of the sweltering lovers.

Jean pulled her to his chest, tenderly rubbing her hips that were bound to be bruised under his desperate grip. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, babe.” She snuggled into his arms with a satisfied sigh.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” she giggled, “more than ok.”

The rain pattered steadily outside, answered occasionally by a soft murmur of thunder. The heat from earlier in the day finally subsided into a cool summer evening, perfect for sleeping through the night in each other’s arms.

[harrypotterximagines]

ANON: hey angel, I was wondering if you could write a smut for Neville involving him and a fem!reader losing their virginities together, and he’s super nervous and shy and reassuring, and totally overwhelmed by everything he feels cuz he’s honoured she loves him enough to let him touch her and omg just supersuper sweet Neville PLEASE 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

_________________________________________________________

The air was heavy as soon as you opened your eyes. A certain feeling inside of you was churning, a thousand small butterflies fluttering around your heart. You felt like glass, ready to shatter; and the best part was, you were ready to break.

The way how Neville slept alongside you, wool blanket dragged to the tip of his nose, securing himself with warm overwhelmed you. His peaceful body laid limp, unaware you were watching his doze. It’s true when one says that words cant describe the immense amount of love you feel for him. Your body felt baptized whenever you caught a glimpse of your soulmate. It was a connection you assumed you were never going to reach.

Taking your eyes off Neville, you swung your legs alongside the bed, hoisting yourself up and getting ready for the day. Each step you took, each corner you passed, your mind couldn’t leave him. It seemed that whatever was in the air wasn’t just speculation but rather a bug. The bite of love’s grace stung you extra hard this morning, warmth and serenity filling your veins like liquid gold. 

Squeezing the bathroom counter and letting the coldness of the marble cool your body, your wide smile reflected back at you. Moments like these, when you have a chance to step back and reflect on all your privileges, dating Neville was more than a personal achievement. You realized that it wasn’t the art of bragging to your friends you had someone that treated you like a Middlemist Red flower but instead it was privilege of getting to call Neville yours.

If luck was genuine and true, despite its sharp fangs filled with venom to strike at those who are disadvantaged, you sneaked past that poisonous peril. Taking a shaky breath and biting back tears of joy, you followed up on your daily morning routine. Although distractions like brewing coffee and choosing which mugs you’d both be drinking out of this morning, Neville couldn’t leave your mind.

The passion that radiated off from you almost made Neville seem phantom-like as he appeared into the kitchen, the sun glowing off his soft skin. His eyes brightened at your beauty, floating closer to you. You were utterly entranced by his power, only breaking out of your gaze by his command. His strong hand placed on the small of your back, tugging you close and kissing you sweetly.

He whispered good morning in your ear, his voice raspy and deep. The lovesickness whirled back into your heart once more and you realized it just wasn’t his love you craved, but the entirety of his whole. You swallowed hard, your train of thought heading off to a destination of overwhelming overthinking. Admittedly, you’ve both never done anything beyond the level of intensely making out. However, you felt ready to fully share your soul with his.

You turned your head to Neville as he yawned into his arm, staring at the coffee pot as it slowly and painfully processed the beans. You took one step closer to him, watching carefully, seeing if he would react to your odd behavior. Then another step. And another. Suddenly his arms were around your waist, your mouth going directly onto his.

At this moment, when the sun dyed his hair a shade lighter, made his eyes brighter, and his aura bewitching, your glass body shattered. You fell limp in his arms, his strength picking pinning you against the kitchen counter to support and hold you close. Your greedy mouth stole kisses at every breath you regrettably took, not wanting to waste a single moment.

Neville looked down at you, an eyebrow raised out of amusement but confusion. His face was hard to read, his smile a mask for his true feelings. You didn’t know what was the best way to flat out say you wanted him in more ways then one, but somehow the words managed to escape your lips:

“I’m ready, Neville,” You breathlessly said.

Understanding completely with your simple request, Neville hoisted you off the counter and brought you back to your place of rest. Heart and mind, you’re connected as one. Now it’s time to complete this unity and share the pleasures the body had to give. 

Neville slowly placed you back down onto the mattress, his body barely hovering above yours. His hands were stiff and uncertain, afraid of making one wrong move and destroying a moment that’s going to remain a permanent burn in his mid. The last thing he’d want to do is go up in flames and not walk through them.

His cheeks began to rise a light pink as cold fingers poked his sides. His crimson white sleeping shirt rose above his head, kisses peppering his stomach as you began to undress him first. His shyness overwhelmed you, finding it sweet that he cared enough to react in such a way.

Once his shirt was tossed to the ground, his eyes widened as he realized he had to return the favor. Slowly, his fingers began to line up with the hem of your shirt. You felt his fingernails lightly drag across the skin of your stomach as the soft cloth exposed more of your body. He stopped right before the under of your breast, hesitating. His eyes looked down at yours, waiting for the signal of approval before he could advance any further.

When he received the sign of approval, his lips began to kiss the skin that was shown. His delicate mouth grazed upon your flesh, worshipping your body. He kissed in between your breasts as the shirt tugged above and over your head, his hands falling to his pajama pants. With more eagerness to comply, he found himself naked before you. 

He let out an airy laugh, his nervousness encapsulating his being. However, he embraced it because he knew by the look on your face that read fearful content matched his own. He was overwhelmed by the amount of emotion he was undergoing and wanted your first time to be as sweet as one would hope.

He didn’t want to rush into things or scare you off, so when he tugged the blanket above his hips to hide the view of his private self, he was shocked when you pushed it back down.

You shook your head, smiling wide. “I want to see you, Neville,” You whispered, reassuring him on his insecurities and doubts. 

“And I can’t wait to see you,” He whispered back, although you found that he took his time taking off your bottom half.

You giggled as he took in a deep breath while interlocking his fingers with your panties, unlocking the invisible chastity belt you once wore. Neville looked down at you as he found his hands gripping onto yours. He lightly squeezed your hands as his lips kissed your neck, whispering into your ear about how much he loves you.

He reminded you that every part of him belonged to you. He told you that it wasn’t just fate that brought you both close but the destiny of promising past lives and future reincarnations that set in stone your souls connection.

With one final promising declaration of love and loyalty, his thickness buried deep inside you. Overwhelmed, you were the one to draw in a sharp breath this time, leaving him chuckling instead. His fingers interlocked with yours as he immediately told you that you were doing great even though he had no prior experience. 

His nose nuzzled with yours as he slowly began to gyrate his hips, getting you comfortable and settled. He whispered low that if you wanted to stop, he immediately would pull out but you refused. You knew the moment was right and you didn’t want to have it any other way. 

Neville encouraged you and put the spotlight of positive reinforcement and support directly onto you. He kissed you every time he pushed in, calling you a beauty beyond belief. 

He stiffened when you moaned his name for the first time, overwhelmed once more. He slightly whined at how much he craved you, utterly in love with the way you knew how to tempt him. He found himself calling your name too, a feeble whisper in your ear. A mixture of raspiness and lust filled your senses. 

His hands never left yours as his progression enhanced and he took full control, a gentle yet dominant movement he favored for your first time. You found yourself becoming increasingly comfortable and soon enough, the two of you released yourselves to each other.

Neville was panting by the time he came, his heart rapidly beating inside his chest. Your heartbeat followed a similar pattern, yet another connection the two of you fatefully shared. He laid on top of your for a silent minute, absorbing and soaking in the moment. He left out laugh which you proceeded to follow, the air banished from the heaviness you felt earlier that day, replacing itself with light and love.

Neville nestled himself close to your side, kissing your cheek, shutting his eyes. You stared up at the ceiling, regret never coming at all. You smiled to yourself, happy you found a partner for life.

[wisteriashouse]

a little too much.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff, fluff, more fluff

word count: 4414

remarks: request by @redgokus​!! i hope you like it, although i’m afraid i messed up the request a little 😅

Sometimes, you find yourself really regretting your life decisions.

Why, you ask yourself over and over, as Mitsuri hums happily behind you, running a comb through your hair. Why on earth did you agree to go to a festival in the middle of town, when you could just be home where it was peaceful and quiet, eating wagashi and sipping sake on the engawa? Why would you agree, out of your own free will, to do this?

Demons have their Blood Demon Arts, allowing them to perform supernatural feats and possess inhumane strength. They can slice rock with a swipe of the hand, regrow cut limbs in the blink of an eye. All sorts of spells and magic, defying reality and pushing the boundaries of one’s imagination. 

If you were ever a demon, you think, all you want is the ability to turn down Rengoku Kyoujurou for just once in your life.

“I’m so glad that you’re coming with us today!” Mitsuri - the Love Pillar - says in a sing-song voice, sweet and bubbly. Her hands are gentle as they tug lightly at your hair, pulling it into a simple but fashionable up-do from what you can see in the looking glass in front of you. Your reflection’s lips are pressed together in a neutral expression, but only you can see the panic reflected in your own eyes. A Pillar is doing your hair. A Pillar! “Rengoku-san always talks about you, but I’ve rarely seen you around! I’m really excited to get to spend the festival with you!”

You nod awkwardly at her words, actions stilted in your attempt not to ruin her hard work. Damn you, Kyoujurou.

“It’s a good thing you don’t see me much.” You manage to say, fingers playing with the hem of your kimono to settle your nerves. Your throat is dry. “That means you don’t get injured often.”

Mitsuri laughs brightly at your words, and you stare at your lap. Was what you said... amusing, somehow? You were being serious... “Because you’re a healer at the Butterfly Mansion?” She tugs your hair into a knot, securing it in place with a small arsenal of silver pins. “I rarely see you around! I do wonder how you and Rengoku-san met!”

Of course she would rarely see you about. Even if Mitsuri did visit the Butterfly Mansion once in a while, it’s unlikely that she would catch a glimpse of you. Interaction with the patients is something you leave to the other girls, such as Aoi. You, on the other hand, prefer staying behind the scenes, mixing salves, mending clothes, doing the washing and such.

It’s only Kyoujurou. Only Kyoujurou somehow managed to notice you slipping in and out of his room to change his sheets and bring him his daily medication during his occasional stay at the Butterfly Mansion, prompting him to seek you out one day to thank you for your hard work - much to your shock.

Since Kyoujurou rarely likes staying at the Butterfly Mansion when he’s injured (he much prefers recuperating in the Rengoku Estate where he can spend his time with his younger brother, Senjurou), you often have to travel there to deliver his medicine and change his bandages for him, leading to the formation of a somewhat strange friendship. Over time, you find that the Flame Pillar has somehow buried himself deep into your heart, his kindness and passion only nurturing the quietly blooming affections that you have for him into fruition. 

And now, well, here you are. 

“Well... it’s a long story.” You wave it off hesitantly. It’s not very interesting, but it is precious to you, and a story that you hold close to your heart. You catch Mitsuri’s pout in the looking glass. 

“That’s too bad, I was quite interested!” Mitsuri chimes brightly, slipping a hairpin into the up-do. Tiny jeweled butterflies dangle down the side, tinkling like silver bells and wind chimes. “All done! You look absolutely breathtaking. I’m sure the rest will be excited to meet you too!”

You take a deep breath, trying to remain positive. “Ah, right... the others.”

You see, Kyoujurou hadn’t mentioned any others when he’d invited you to the festival. The thought of heading to a festival with Kyoujurou had already made you unbearably nervous - you were far more used to quiet nights cleaning his wounds with casual chatter, wrapping dumplings with Senjurou or even stargazing on the rooftops. It was only today that you’d found out it wouldn’t just be the two of you, but all of the Pillars of the Demon Slayer Corps heading out to enjoy the festival. Your nerves had only grown tenfold, from a sweet fluttery feeling in your chest to something approaching dread.

Once again, with all of your heart, damn you, Kyoujurou.

“You don’t mind, do you? Oyakata-sama said it would be a good idea for the Pillars to bond by going to the festival together, but I already have plans with you. If you mind, of course, I could go alone with you instead.” Kyoujurou had told you apologetically this morning, right after his Pillar meeting ended. The man had run all the way to the Butterfly Mansion just to inform you in person instead of sending a kasugai crow over, and you found your heart wavering when you looked at his flushed cheeks, the apologetic expression on his face. “I’m truly sorry about this! I was looking forward to spending time with you.”

“No, no, of course it’s alright!” You’d found yourself saying, while your mind screamed otherwise. “I’d love to meet the other Pillars as well!”

What in the name of Kami were you saying?

Too late to back out now, you’re left with no choice but to fiddle with the pin in your hair, swallowing the nerves rising in your chest. “Just one festival.” You mutter to yourself under your breath. “Shinobu-san will be there too, so it can’t be too bad.”

At least, you hope it won’t be.

>>>

The festival is... loud, to put it lightly.

It is also crowded, noisy, packed with people, full of bright lights and colours, and while you can appreciate it from a distance, you’ve never really seen the appeal in attending without the other girls from the Butterfly Mansion. It’s not that the festival is awful, or that you hate it - it can just be a little overwhelming without your usual friends. Nervous, you fidget with the sleeves of the yukata that Mitsuri had lent you for the festival as you wait for the other Pillars to arrive. 

It’s a little more elaborate than the nurse’s shift you’re used to wearing over your clothes. You chew your bottom lip, wondering what Kyoujurou will say when he sees you. Now that you think about it, he’s never really seen you dressed up before-

“I’m sure Rengoku-san will think that you look great!”

A little surprised, you glance to the side, where Mitsuri is beaming at you. Dressed in a festive kimono with sakura motifs that matches her pink hair, she looks absolutely radiant in the light of the lanterns hanging overhead from the cherry trees. “That shy look on your face you have when you’re thinking about Rengoku-san is so adorable! I absolutely love it!”

 You panic in an instant, staring at her with wide eyes. “What do you mean, shy? And how would you know what I’m thinking about?”

Mitsuri giggles. “So, you were thinking about him?”

Before you can run straight back to the Butterfly Mansion in embarrassment, the Love Pillar reaches over to grab your hand, squeezing it lightly. “There’s no need to be so nervous.” Her voice is incredibly soothing to listen to, sweet and airy as cotton candy. “From how Rengoku-san talks about you, he’s incredibly fond of you. And besides,” she gestures at you with a bright smile on her face, “you look great!”

Is that so? Ignoring the slight burn at your cheeks from her compliments, you look down into a puddle that the afternoon rain had left behind, eyes fixed on your own reflection. 

“Thanks, Mitsuri-san.” You say softly, a tiny smile fighting its way onto your lips. The Love Pillar beams at you cheerfully, and you think, for just a moment, that maybe tonight won’t be so bad-

“Oh, there you are!”

At the sound of Kyoujurou’s jovial voice, you turn around to greet him, your heart pounding in your chest from excitement, before you catch sight of the entire group he’s brought with him. Your words die in your throat.

Ahh... you forgot that there were nine Pillars.

One of your feet shifts back in an instinctive flight response, but before you can retreat, Kyoujurou is already approaching you, a huge grin on his face as he calls your name.

“You’re here!” He beams at you, and your breath catches in your throat at just how handsome he looks. Instead of his usual half up-do, he’s put it in a short, loose braid that falls over his left shoulder, tied off with a red ribbon, and the crimson yukata that he’s wearing is vibrant enough to catch the eye of passers by as they walk past. “You look absolutely amazing!”

You touch the hairpin self-consciously. “Says the one who’s turning heads left and right just by walking by.” You mumble under your breath, but you can’t help the heat tinting your cheeks. At your words, Kyoujurou grins brightly - so radiant that it puts the lights of the festival to shame.

“Thank you!” Is that a hint of red you see on his own cheeks? Before you can look more carefully, however, he grabs your hand and tugs you excitedly towards the rest of the group. “Come, come! I want you to meet the rest!”

Your heart kicks into overdrive in an instant. You’re not mentally prepared for this! “Kyo, wait, wait, wait-”

Before you can so much as get another word out, you find yourself standing in the middle - the middle! - of a circle of Pillars. Heart rapidly thumping in your chest, you clutch onto Kyoujurou’s sleeve in a panic, completely missing the way Mitsuri’s eyes sparkle in delight at the sight. 

“This is the friend I was telling all of you about!” Kyoujurou says, voice loud and clear as he squeezes your hand lightly. You’re not sure if you want to die from his touch or die from embarrassment. “Here, [name], this is-”

“I know the Pillars. Everyone in the Corps does.” You squeak out awkwardly with a bow, glancing up at the human mountain that is Himejima Gyomei. The Stone Pillar currently towers over you - he looks like he could crush you with his bare hands. He somehow seems to realise that you’re looking at him, and gives you a slight inclination of the head even though his eyes do not look at you. 

“It is nice... to meet one of Rengoku’s... friends...” 

“Not very flamboyant, are you?” You glance up at the man on your right. The second you catch sight of the jeweled headband, you immediately know who he is - Uzui Tengen, Sound Pillar. “I expected more from one of Kyoujurou’s buddies!”

You pause, unsure how to respond. “I’m sorry for the... disappointment?”

“Now, now, don’t say that, Tengen!” Kyoujurou laughs boisterously, pulling you closer to his side. You can feel the warmth coming off his body, like the heat of a burning brazier. “This is one of my precious friends, I won’t have you speaking like that! Well then, shall we go?”

Bowing to the rest of the Pillars present, you catch Shinobu’s eye and she gives you a little smile of her own, the sight comforting you enough to calm your nerves. 

“Why the fuck am I here with the lot of you? I should be spending this time training.” The scarred, white haired man (Wind Pillar, Shinazugawa Sanemi, your mind supplies you) snaps. There’s a fierce scowl on his face that is frankly quite intimidating. “I’m heading back-”

“You promised Oyakata-sama you would at least spend the festival with us.” Himejima cuts in calmly, and Shinazugawa’s eyes narrow, displeased. After a moment, he grunts and stalks over to the nearest stall where they’re selling tiny glass bottles of brightly coloured konpeito. “Let’s just get this done and over with.”

The second the Wind Pillar moves, the rest of the group follows after him in a manner not unlike a small flock of sheep. Before you can lose your nerves completely, you feel Kyoujurou squeeze your hand once more and glance up at him in surprise. The grin that he gives you can’t be good for your heart. 

“Hey, don’t listen to what Tengen said.” Kyoujurou says, lightly bopping you on the nose. Warmth spreads down your cheeks, a pleasant buzz dancing along your skin when you meet his gaze, filled to the brim with affection. “You’re perfect the way you are. There’s nothing about you that you need to change.”

You blink at him for a moment, before a tiny smile tugs at your lips. “Okay.”

With that, the two of you follow the rest of them to the konpeito stall, his sleeve still tightly held in your hand.

>>>

The Pillars are rather... loud, to put them lightly, too.

Or rather, Uzui and Kyoujurou are loud. Boisterous and chaotic, you can tell that they’re easily the life and noise of the group. At the side, Himejima’s prayer beads are wrapped around Tokitou’s wrist to prevent the absentminded Mist Pillar from simply wandering off in a daze. The Snake Pillar is browsing a small stall with trinkets together with Mitsuri, who’s giggling lightly at everything he says - now that has you blinking a little in surprise.

The Snake and Love Pillar? You would never have thought, yet it makes sense... somehow.

“I don’t want your stupid ohagi!”

You turn around in surprise to see Shinazugawa yelling at the Water Pillar, who’s holding a box of ohagi in his hands and wearing a blank expression on his face. “Uhm...”

“Ignore the two of them.” An amused hum sounds next to your ear, and you turn around in surprise to see Shinobu watching the sight before her with amusement. “Rather funny, aren’t they? Tomioka-san always tries his best, but it’s not his fault that he has the personality of public latrine.”

“Shinobu-san,” you begin to chide, but Shinobu simply laughs, falling in step next to you as her butterfly haori flutters with the wind.  “So, Rengoku-san dragged you out on this one? I never would have thought I’d see you stepping out of your comfort zone like this.”

You raise your hands to cover your cheeks in an attempt to hide your flush, but you’re sure that the Insect Pillar can see straight through you. “It’s not my fault I can’t turn him down.” You say quietly, glancing over at where he’s chatting animatedly with the Sound Pillar at the head of the group, his arms stuffed to the brim with candy and snacks. “I just wanted to spend a little more time with him. That’s all.”

Shinobu’s hand rests lightly on your head. “You look a little exhausted though.” She says with a smile, her purple eyes shining like gems in the dim light. A little hesitant, you nod your head. “Well, it’s just a bit draining being around so many people.” You gesture behind you, where Kyoujurou is now holding Shinazugawa back from throwing hands with Tomioka. The box of ohagi is flattened on the ground. “You get what I mean.”

Shinobu hums lightly, tapping a finger against her lips in contemplation before she takes you by the shoulders, steering you away from the din. “Here, how about you take a little break by the riverside first? You can rejoin us when you’re ready.” You glance over your shoulder at her, a little panicked. 

“Ahh, but Kyoujurou-”

“I’ll tell him where you’ve gone, no worries.” Shinobu reassures you, patting you on the back. You take one more glance at the ruckus behind you, before you bow to Shinobu, apologetic. “Sorry for the trouble.”

She just shoos you away, and you quietly sneak away from the din.

When you finally reach the river, a short distance from the festival, you sit yourself at the riverbank, letting out a small sigh of relief. Most of the noise from the festival that manages to make it here is muffled by the sound of running water, and after a moment of quick contemplation, you decide to slip off your sandals and dip your feet into the cool water.

Humming lightly to yourself, you let your thoughts wander. Although you hate being dragged out on surprise trips, it surprisingly isn’t so bad when Kyoujurou is there with you. On a side note, you do wonder if he knows how terrible you are with large groups, how quickly you tire in their constant presence. Kyoujurou is kind almost to a fault, surely he wouldn’t do something like this if he were aware - but as much as he is kind, he is also a little oblivious to some things around him.

You give a little snort at your own thoughts. Such as the affections you’ve had for him for a while now, you think.

“There you are!”

Startled, you give a little squeak and whirl around to see Kyoujurou jogging towards you, a big grin on his face. As a result of your hasty motion, you slip a little on the wet rocks and wobble dangerously, heart dropping into your chest with a gasp.

“No worries, I’ve got you!” Kyoujurou chuckles, grabbing and steadying you before you can fall into the river. You blink up at him in surprise as he seats himself next to you, tossing his own sandals to the side. He puts his own feet in the water before he yanks them out in an instant, a shiver running up his body. “Cold!”

You cover your mouth to stifle your laughter. “What are you doing here, Kyoujurou?”

The man beams at you. “Looking for you, of course! Kochou told me that you were here.” Returning his attention to the river, Kyoujurou carefully dips his toes into the water before submerging his feet completely. You look at your bare feet, side by side with his larger ones. The sight makes you smile, for some reason. “Did you... perhaps not enjoy today?”

“Eh?” You look up in surprise to see Kyoujurou gazing at you seriously, brows furrowed. “No, not at all! Tonight was very fun!”

He tilts his head as he looks at you, those burning golden eyes searching you for an answer. “But you left.” He says simply, and suddenly you feel a warm hand encasing yours, thumb stroking over your knuckles. You look down to see his fingers wrapped around your hand, his hand practically engulfs yours. “You know that I would treasure your honesty greatly, [name].”

How are you to refuse him when he asks you like that? Unfair, really...

“It’s not that I didn’t enjoy today. I really liked meeting Mitsuri-san and the others.” You tell him quietly, squeezing his hand back. He listens attentively, leaning close to hear you more clearly. “It was just... a bit too much for me, all at once.”

“Too much?”

You nod at the puzzled expression on Kyoujurou’s face. It’s endearing, you think. He looks like a puppy, eager to please and understand. “A bit too many new people, a bit too much noise, too many things happening.” Your explanation is crude at best, but Kyoujurou nods slowly in understanding. 

“Ahh, I get it. Senjurou is similar to you in this way as well, I think.” He hums for a moment, rubbing his chin in thought, and you turn back to the river, a little nervous. You know that he isn’t that sort of person, but what if he thinks that you’re boring now? Not a fun person to hang out with? While you’re mulling over this, pensive, you suddenly feel a weight rest on your shoulder.

“K-Kyoujurou?” 

The wilder, untamed strands of his hair that have escaped the braid tickle your cheek, his hot breath fanning gently over your collarbone. “I apologise for today. Let’s stay like this until the festival is over.” He says, and your heart skips a beat as you look at the peaceful smile on his face, his eyes shut and chest rising evenly with each breath. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” You try to protest. “But the festival-”

“My original intention was to spend time with you, in the first place.” You glance down at him contentedly splashing the river water with his toes. Warmth fills your chest, airy and light. “It does not matter what we are doing, as long as I have your company. There’s no need to worry about the rest of them, I’m sure Kochou will handle everything. Instead,” his eyes suddenly flicker open to hold your gaze, your noses barely inches apart. “I would like that you would speak honestly with me. Your likes and dislikes, your hobbies and the things you love to do, I wish to know all about them. More about you.”

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding in your chest like it is in your ears, but nod quietly in response. Warmth dances along your body, radiating outwards from where his breath touches your bare skin, wrapping you in it like a comforting blanket. “Alright.” Tentatively, you rest your cheek atop his head. His hair is so soft. “Everything you want to know, I’ll tell you with time.”

“That would make me the happiest man in the world.” Kyoujurou laughs, and you can feel his chest rumble with it. “I’ll hold you to it, then.”

>>>

You feel like you haven’t seen Kyoujurou for weeks.

Climbing up the final steps of the mountain, you pause for a moment to catch your breath, looking back at the path you’ve ascended. Trees dot the landscape, and fog blankets the scene before you.

Why Kyoujurou has suddenly asked you to meet him at the very top of this mountain after one of his missions, you have no idea, but you hope that he isn’t hurt in any way. Usually, he’d just head back to the Rengoku Estate to rest, but perhaps he’s injured and can’t make it back for treatment. It’s not like him not to mention how he’s doing in his letters, though...

Nervously, you adjust the bag slung over your shoulder, glancing at the wooden building in front of you.

There’s a familiar symbol painted on the sign, an oval with three wavy lines depicting steam. An onsen inn...?

Your vision suddenly goes black as a pair of calloused but gentle hands settle over your eyes, followed by a warm, familiar chuckle that washes away any fear or nerves. “Guess who?”

“Senjurou.” You say confidently and the man behind you laughs in amusement before releasing you. Turning around, you’re relieved to see Kyoujurou standing there with his usual bright grin on his face - his eyes are shining. 

“I cannot believe that you would mistake me for my brother.” Kyoujurou laughs, shaking his head and you find yourself smiling along. His happiness is infectious.

“It’s your fault for sneaking up on me like that. I couldn’t believe the mighty Flame Pillar would resort to such underhanded means.” You glance over him. “Are you hurt?” 

He’s dressed in a simple robe, likely provided by the inn, and you’re not sure you can handle how the top is hanging open like that, so casually displaying the strong lines of his chest and neck. It does give you a very clear view of his upper body, however, and you’re relieved to see that he looks relatively unhurt in any way aside from a few superficial injuries. 

“I am not.” With a smile, Kyoujurou steps closer, and you frown at him, confused. His hair is unbound, and a few strands fly with the wind, the ends fluttering against your cheek. Absentmindedly, you raise a hand to brush them behind his ear. “Why would you call me all the way here, then?”

“I took quite a few missions in a row, so I have a whole week off now. Tomioka will cover my patrol region for the time being.” Kyoujurou grins at you, looking pleased. So that was why he was so busy. “I’ve rented a couple of rooms here for a week.”

You nod along, glad that he’s finally getting a well deserved break. “That’s great, but surely you didn’t bring me here just to tell me that...” The words ‘a couple of rooms’ suddenly register in your mind, and you blink at him, realization setting in. “Wait, two rooms?”

The Flame Pillar beams at you, his eyes twinkling. He extends a hand to you. “Spend the week here with me? There’s no one else, just the two of us. You and me.” 

You stare at his outstretched hand. He’d really done this all for you, work overtime, take on extra missions, find this place - just to spend time alone with you. Three little words dance on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them and look up at Kyoujurou with a grateful smile, so wide that your cheeks hurt.

With a small laugh of your own, you reach out to take it the hand he’s offering you. His hand is just as warm as you remember it to be. “Why would I turn down a free vacation?” You ask with a cheeky smile, and Kyoujurou laughs as he leads you up the stairs into the inn. All the way, your heart flutters in your chest.

“Can we soak in the hot springs together later?”

“Mmm, of course we can. Please wash my back for me, too. I can’t quite reach it on my own.”

Your laughter rings out over the quiet mountain air. “After that, can we play some shogi?”

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

“Let’s watch the stars together, too.”

“The skies are clear. You can teach me all about them tonight.” His touch is gentle as he traces indiscernible shapes on the top of your hand. You smile, a soft, radiant thing, and tug at his hand lightly.

“Kyoujurou?” He turns to look at you, eyes gentle.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.” You whisper, and kiss him on the cheek lightly. 

Kyoujurou smiles. His gaze is tender as he looks at you. 

“Anything for you.”

[fandomwriterstuff]

Traumtänzer (Pt. 6)

Rated T

German Translation:

Nein - No

Und ich bin erschöpft - And I am exhausted

Das Erste - it's a German television/news channel

Part 5

Part 7

When you’d reunited with Sam and James, they were with a blonde woman.

“And who is this?” she had a gun in one hand, and it was giving you anxiety. Mein Gott, but she looked familiar.

“This is Maus, ” James elected to keep your name a secret for now, a gesture for which you were grateful. “ Maus, this is-”

“Sharon Carter,” you breathed. “The people who held me captive, they were afraid of you. An American agent with no leash. They were afraid you’d come set us experiments free,” you raised an eyebrow at her. “I always wanted to meet you.” You sniffed at her, not much for a woman HYDRA was afraid of.

“I hope I live up to your expectations,” she said darkly, the gun in her hand twitching.

“ Tread carefully, we want her on our side,” Helmut whispered in Sokovian when you barked out a harsh laugh at her comment. You paused before replying, thinking over your next words carefully.

“I suppose I’ve only just met you, I can’t make any decisions,” you finally said, not willing to get on her bad side.

“So,” Sharon turned to James and Sam. “You’ve got Zemo, an international fugitive, and a former… what? HYDRA agent?” She looked at you from the side and you narrowed your eyes before nodding. “Alright,” she shook her head. “I have a place in High Town, you should be safe there for a while,” when she turned, you nervously side-eyed Helmut. You didn’t trust her, no matter how starstruck you were. You supposed you were supposed to catch on and start following her, but you didn’t realize that until Helmut placed his gloved hand on the small of your back and gave you a gentle push forward. Your legs were like jelly from teleporting so many people, and you were exhausted.

You found yourself feeling heavier and heavier, leaning more of your weight on Helmut’s arm as you walked. Eyelids heavy, when you got into the car (in the back middle seat because you were the smallest) you leaned your head on Helmut’s shoulder. You were sure Sam, on your other side, was curious about the nature of your relationship with the Baron.

Hell, so am I, you thought to yourself as the car lulled you into relaxing. You wrapped your arms around Helmut’s right one and sighed deeply.

You were hoping none of them would mention your powers in front of Sharon, she was a wild card, but your expectations were too high.

“Have you ever teleported that many people before?” Sam asked from beside you, eyeing up your posture and half-closed eyelids.

“ Nein,” you breathed the word. “ Und ich bin erschöpft,” you figured you had defaulted to the language you were most used to speaking.

“Please, for the love of all that is holy, try to explain in English,” Sam let out a soft chuckle, trying not to scold you.

“She said,” Helmut replied pointedly. “No, and that she is exhausted.” His thumb stroked over your hand and you let your eyes slip shut completely. Sam didn’t say anything else after that but you felt his arm move beside you, so maybe he was nodding in acknowledgement.

It was a short while before the car stopped, and Helmut patted your hand with his own.

“ It’s time to move, schätzchen,” Helmut’s voice rumbled in your ear, and you followed him out of the car, your energy slightly returning to you.

Sharon’s place was suspiciously beautiful.

“Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well,” there was an accusatory tone in Sam’s voice, but you couldn’t help but think that Sharon was doing the best she could under the circumstances.

“Well, at some point I thought if I had to hustle I might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler,” she commented nonchalantly. “You know how much I can get for a real Monet?” You glanced at all of the art as you passed it by. You wanted to be more cultured and care about the fine arts but you’d lived such a bare and scrappy life up until this point, you couldn’t care less. You zoned out a bit until Sharon raised her voice.

“Come on, you guys need to change. I’m hosting clients in an hour,” you were all ushered upstairs where Sam and James changed. Helmut stayed in his luxurious coat and you… Well you weren’t sure what you were all supposed to be doing so you sat down across from James, crossed your legs, and observed.

Sam was disappointed in Sharon, but he also felt extreme guilt for not helping her out. You wondered what their previous working relationship was like. She seemed very straightforward and badass, very powerful. You couldn’t imagine her working with the Avengers. You eyed Helmut as he took a sip of some dark liquor and winked at you from across the room.

You only tuned in when you heard about the ‘new cap.’

“Wait there’s a new one?” You finally interjected.

“Don’t get me started,” James grunted across from you.

“Look I have a television but I only get the BBC and Das Erste . I barely ever get news of Avenging,” you sighed.

“Name’s John Walker,” Sam supplied. “He’s a real prick.”

Prick? You mouthed the word. Was it a colloquialism?

“ He means that Walker is an asshole,” Helmut provided in Sokovian and you nodded sagely. That made sense. Well, it didn’t make sense that the kapitän was an asshole, but it did make sense that you didn’t know the English colloquialism.

You watched back and forth as Sam and Sharon hashed out their issues and… Well, you should have been paying more attention. Helmut asked you to put your shoes back on, apparently you were going to a party downstairs.

The music was booming, the bass was in time with your fluttering heart. You’d never been to a party before. You were supposed to ‘blend in.’ Whatever that meant.

Helmut’s hand was on your lower back again as you wandered into the fray, and in the dark room with the flashing lights he looked breathtaking.

“ You’re very handsome, you know?” You inquired in Sokovian. For once, you were glad for your time in HYDRA as you had no filter and felt no shame saying what you meant to say. Helmut looked down at you, gaze warm and inviting.

“ And you are very beautiful,” he replied in the same tongue. It was so nice being able to speak it again. You said as much to him and a warm smile lit up his face. “ It has been a long time since I could speak Sokovian to anyone, it is such a pleasure to hear you speak.” This time you did blush a bit, but you hoped he didn’t notice as he ushered you further into the swarm of bodies. You’d never been touched by so many people before, some of them just brushing up against you.

You wish the Baron would touch you , your brain supplied and you chided yourself. You were here on a mission, not a conjugal visit. Though he was looking devastatingly handsome and you could imaging those leather gloves gripping your hips, those soft lips on your neck, he would take his gloves off to-

You stopped yourself there. This was not the time to fantasize.

When you took account of your surroundings again, the Baron was dancing in a sort of awkward way, but it endeared him to you even more. The pounding music and the warm touches from all angles were heating you up inside, and you scoped out a dark corner nearby where you’d be shielded from everyone’s view, including James and Sam.

You hooked your fingers into Helmut’s and dragged him over. As you maneuvered your way into the corner and your back hit the wall, you pulled Helmut in, shielding you from view.

“Helmut,” you purred his name and dragged your hand up his arm and to his neck. His pulse was racing just as your own was.

“ What could you have possibly drawn me back here for, little mouse?” He smirked, looking down at your bright eyes through your long curled lashes.

“ I was getting quite overwhelmed,” you admitted softly. “ I was hoping you could… distract me.”

He raised an eyebrow and his smile grew.

“ And how would you like for me to distract you?” His lips were only a hair’s breadth away from your own and it barely took any effort at all to press your lips against his. You’d been waiting to taste him since you’d kissed in the dressing room earlier on.

You slid your other hand into his coat and lay it on his side, feeling the warmth of his body as he cupped your face with one hand, deepening the kiss as you let his tongue slide into your mouth. You assumed that taste was the liquor he’d been drinking before, maybe whiskey? Whatever it was, you were feeling drunk on his taste and you were eager to keep kissing him if it meant you would feel this light and airy.

“ Mein Gott,” he groaned as you pulled him even closer, your bodies pressed against one another’s. His hand reached to cup your breast tenderly, stroking his thumb over your nipple. You were glad you hadn’t worn a bra with this dress, everything felt more intense.

“Helmut,” you breathed his name against his lips when you finally parted, eyes closed and foreheads pressed together.

“ What is it that you want, schatz? I would give you the moon if you asked it of me,” he whispered to you. Everything felt so safe and warm in this little corner of the world. You just wanted to stay within his arms for the rest of the night.

The warmth was broken as Helmut was yanked away from you, and your eyes shot open.

“James!” You hissed angrily, eyes narrowing at the man holding Helmut with his metal arm.

“We found Nagel,” he spat, looking at you with a disappointed look in his eyes. You rolled your eyes at him and sighed.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Masterlist