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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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Hidden Treasure 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your quiet life is interrupted by a tempestuous man. (reader is Blair from Follow You Anywhere)

Characters: Thor

Note: I just did it, okay?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You lay out the hand-sewn coin purses along the left side of the table, completing the array of your hand-made and repurposed goods. It’s a good day to sell, sunny but not too hot, the early days of spring when people are eager to get out. At least it should be. Despite your selection, you’re not the most personable vendor along the square.

The last detail is the hand-painted wood sign. You did it yourself; an antique frame you added a gold hue to and filled with a thin sheet of board. It isn’t much but it tells people what they’re looking at; handmade and renewed goods.

You fold your hands and hover behind your table. You’re a one-person operation. It’s your own table, your own money, your own everything. It brings in enough for you to live. Just you and your cluttered apartment.

The coin purses and the sleepers you sew by hand are the more popular sellers. Anything for children goes first, you notice. Everyone seems to be having them. The older crowd radiate towards the old candlesticks you polished to a shine or the glass-shaded lamps you tediously re-wired. Most try to haggle but your prices are fair enough.

You peer around at the produce stands, the soap and candle makers, and the crocheted stuffies of your fellow sellers. You do a bit of window shopping but never follow through on your wandering eyes. You don’t need to waste the money on the pretty new things, you have lots of lovely old things.

The traffic picks up and you busy yourself with the browsers. A woman with a stroller buys several of the infant dresses and headband, a group of older ladies peruse the aged hardcovers and pick out a few, while a couple comments on the brass-based lamp with the dangling chain. You do your best to smile through the transactions.

The rises higher in the sky towards its apex. The steady flow keeps you busy, with some time in-between to work on fixing the binding of one of the old editions. You like to keep yourself distracted, thinking can be dangerous. With how much time you spend alone, it’s hard to avoid.

As you lock up the cash box and tuck it back under the table, a shadow passes over, large than any other. For a moment, you think a cloud’s passing over the sun. You look up at the sky as a broad figure stands across from you.

You don’t know how you didn’t see the man’s approach. He’s huge. Tall and wide. He doesn’t seem the type to be interested in your selection. Still, he leans in to eye the embroidered coin purses and gives a rumbling hum that sounds like distant thunder.

He picks up one with primroses sewn into it. His thick thumb brushes the threaded design and his large hand makes the coin purse look even smaller. You tap your fingers on the table as his eyes flick up and meet yours.

“Hi, uh, how can I help you?” You whittle out of your tight throat. It’s not often a lone man finds interest in your things. You cater to a more femme audience.

“This is nice,” he remarks, “do you make these?”

“Uh, yes, I do,” you give a tight-lipped smile, “I just embroider old used purses.”

“Just? That’s splendid work,” he brings it closer to his face and looks down his nose at the little flowers and leaves, “my mother would love this... mother’s day is coming, eh?”

“Oh, um, yes, I suppose,” you agree. “It’s five dollars. Cash only.”

“Mm,” he traces his thumb over the metal clasp as he taps his back pocket with his other hand, “don’t think I’ve any on me. Could you hold this for me?” He offers the coin purse, “I’ll find the ATM.”

“Sure, I could do that.”

You take the coin purse, fingers brushing his rough skin, and you set it aside.

“Thank you,” he smiles broadly, blue eyes twinkling as lines creases around them and across his forehead.

He reluctantly trails away and you watch him go. His golden hair is longer than most, twisted into a low bun behind his hand as a few strands dangle freely around his face. He wears a denim jacket over dark red tee and grey jeans, along with a pair of scuffed brown boots. He stands out even in his casual attire.

You shrug off the encounter and turn to your next customers. More baby clothes. The women chat about a baby show and you point them to the newborn sizes, telling them about the fabrics you use for each. They buy a few bibs along with the sleepers and diaper covers.

You back up and sit in the folding chair, drinking deeply from your bottle of water. You don’t know if it’s the interactions or the sun making you dizzy. It’s close to noon. You always start to feel it around this time.

The hours surrounded by strange faces and buzzing voices are clustering in your head and chest. Only a little longer; the market only runs until two. If the world didn’t require money to survive, you might never leave your apartment. Yet your table is the only means you have to keep walls around you.

You sit a bit longer and get up again. You’re okay. You should’ve eaten before you left the apartment. How silly of you to forget the overnight oats you had put in the fridge just the night before. You do forget quite a few things.

The market thrums with the late morning rush and you brace yourself for the final stretch. If you can clear off half the table, you might not have to come back next weekend. You’d be all too content to stay in your own little world, the one beyond is too loud and too bright.

🕰️

You fold your table up and push the hook around the peg to keep it shut. You fold up the chair as well and lean both with your boxes. As the market clears out, you pull up your small two-door and load your wares into the back hatch.

You peer over at the other vendors and their vans and trucks. Crews of half a dozen or more pack away goods and chatter just as loud as the previous crowds. It’s an isolating moment. You don’t mind going unnoticed but sometimes you feel so small.

As you put a box in the back of the car, your keys slip off your finger. You bend and feel around the tire to retrieve them and sense a shadow above you. You clasp your hand around the keyring and stand-up suddenly, turning to face the figure behind you. There’s no one there.

You peer around but find nothing out of the ordinary. You return to your task and pause. You don’t remember putting that box away yet...

You shake your head. You’re just tired and forgetful. Your cardinal vices. Your mind wanders too much to rest, too much to keep order.

You put the last box away and close the hatch. You get in the driver’s seat and turn the engine. It putters softly but it runs well enough. The old car has gotten you through the years just fine. There was a time that tiny thing was your home.

You pull away down the lane parallel to the edge of the market square and pull out into traffic. You drive without seeing, led by habit as you stop at signs along the way, turning around corners mindlessly. You stop and wait to pull into your building’s lot and notice the large storm grey jeep behind you. It strikes you as peculiar; you enter from a back street to avoid the rush.

You steer into the lot and the jeep continues down the street past the building. You forget it as quickly as it rolls beyond the faded brick. You find your spot, parking pass dangling from the mirror, and shut off the engine. You linger and take a breath. You're hungry and tired.

You leave your things in the car and go upstairs. You slow as you pass your neighbour’s door. You saw her yesterday, she was in trouble about something. The police came as she hid from her boyfriend in your apartment. You didn’t even know she had one. You tried not to be nosy but she seemed real upset.

Your cheeks tinge as you stare at the numbers on her door. She’s the only person who’s ever been inside your apartment. You don’t welcome people in, not into your home or your life. You hadn’t meant to let her in but you were so tired and confused, you couldn’t stop her.

You cringe and continue down to your door with one last glance over your shoulder. You put the key in the slot and turn with a grind. You scurry inside and quickly lock the door, afraid she might once more emerge and follow you inside. Or that man, the big one with the beard.

You twist the latch back into place and put your keys in the tray on the cramped shelf. The apartment is dark, the windows shrouded in black fabric, and you flip on the overhead light to guide you down the hallway. The walls are made tighter as their lined with endless shelves and tables, all filled with your collection of curiosities.

You go to the fridge and take out the mason jar of steeped oats. You sit and eat the soft, pasty oats and the berries. You didn’t add enough cinnamon. It doesn’t matter, your stomach greedily mulches it. You put the kettle on and wait for it to steam.

As you pace around, you hear a loud rumble. An engine. You don’t think much of it but you go to the window to peek out around the dark fabric. A woman walks a large dog past a grey jeep parked along the curb. Is it the same one you saw before?

The question doesn’t pique your mind much. That’s the way of the world, you find. It’s a lot smaller than it seems, yet to you, it’s inexorably vast. It’s too fast, too unpredictable. You retreat as the kettle whistles.

Your apartment is small and warm and safe. The world can’t follow you back here. Not if you don’t let it in and you won’t be doing that again.

-🕰️

You decide, against your better instincts, to go to market. The weather is nice and it wouldn’t be so bad add a few extra bucks to your nest egg. You never know what might come up, or what you might find! Too many times you stumbled upon an antique you just couldn’t afford.

You go through your usual ritual. You set up the table and the chair, and arrange your things in the same way around the wooden sign. As you put your boxes to the side, you hear a rattle at the bottom of one. You look into the crate and notice the silver ring. How’d that get in there? You didn’t bring any jewelry.

You put down the box and reach inside. You take out the ring and turn it. You’ve never seen it before. There’s a strange stick symbol on the flat face. Maybe another language or a run of some type. You turn it in your hand and tuck it in your pocket. You’ll have to give a closer look at home.

It’s early and a few stragglers trickle in, but they all walk by your table without pause.

You sit and take out the jar of oats. You remembered today. You’d woken up with a hunger so deep, you almost ate before you left. You know better than to eat too early. Instead, you had your tea and got yourself moving.

You stir the blueberries in and eat slowly, trying to measure your bites so you don’t feel sick after. You watch the other vendors, some still setting up, and lazily swallow down the thick oatmeal. It feels like it might rain after all, there’s a touch of damp in the air.

You finish up and put the jar away. As you wipe your mouth with your sleeve, a woman’s voice trills and pricks your ears. Silver hair with a few wisps of gold peak out from her silk headscarf. The teal fabric matches the pattern of her blouse, tucking into a finely pressed skirt. She’s not alone, she has her arm hooked through another.

Her companion is younger than her. His golden hair is pulled half up at the crown of his head as he towers over her lithe frame. You squint, they might be related. As they approach, you get a whiff of deja vu.

“Yes, it was this one, mother,” the man’s voice is deep.

“How lovely, look at all these treasures,” she slips her arm free as she approaches, “hello, dear, is this all yours?”

“Mhmm, yes,” you stand up, “are you looking for something in particular?”

“I think we’re just browsing,” she smiles brightly, her lips painted a gentle shade of rose.

“A coin purse,” the man says, “with prim rose? Do you recall?”

You look at him. Faces aren’t easy for you but his voice strikes something in your mind, and his size. You haven’t seen a lot of men that big, only the one in your neighbour’s apartment. You think you remember holding something but the customer never came back.

“This one,” you point to the coin purse, set back in the row.

“Yes, that was me,” he chimes, “mother,” he pulls the primrose purse to the top. She takes it and he looks back to you, “I apologise that I didn’t return, there was an emergency and I had to be off.”

“It’s okay,” you shrug, folding your hands together.

The woman is looking at you. There’s something in her gaze that makes you squirm. Her eyes linger just a bit longer before she aims them at the purse, admiring the embroidery as she feels it beneath her thumb.

“Yes, I do like this one,” she says.

“I brought cash this time,” the man booms and reaches into his pocket, “five, I believe you said.”

“Yes,” you accept the bill from him, his skin rough as his fingertips touch yours, “thanks. Erm, did you need a bag?”

“For this? No,” she wiggles the purse playfully and reaches for the man, her son, with other hand. She caresses his knuckles as she faces him, “you were right. Very beautiful.”

He smiles broadly, proudly almost. It’s just a purse. You hide your discomfort as you grip your arm at your elbow.

“Thank you,” the woman chirps back at you, sending another grin in your direction, “you might see us again.”

She hooks her arm once more through her son’s and leads him to the next booth. You peer after them as her attention clings to the purse as she continues to feel it between her fingers. She leans into his arm as she speaks to him quietly. They seem close, it’s sweet. Your own mother had never been so affectionate.

You look away before the scene can pluck in your chest. It doesn’t matter. You’re grown up now. That’s all behind you.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #fic #dark fic #series #dark!fic #au #marvel #avengers #mcu #hidden treasure

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mxnsterbabe · 1 year

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Male Werewolf/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 5,506 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

While antiquing, you find a locket with a beautiful portrait inside. Thinking they must have sold it by mistake, you track the owner down - only to discover he's much more than you thought.

You walked into the antique shop, greeted by the familiar bell's ring. The air smelled like old books and polished wood, a comforting scent you'd come to associate with the store. It was your Aunt Lucinda's shop, filled to the brim with trinkets from the past. Each item, from the brass candlesticks to the porcelain dolls, held a story.

Aunt Lucinda was right in the thick of it, on her knees in front of boxes filled with new items. Seeing you, she stood up, brushing dust off her knees. "Morning," she said, smiling. "Would you help me with these?"

You laughed and nodded, removing your jacket. "Of course, Aunt Lucinda."

You and Aunt Lucinda were close; she'd raised you after your parents passed away. Together, you shared this love for antiques, each piece a whisper from the past. She was more than just family; she was your friend.

You started with the first box, digging through the assorted items. This was the best part – every object had a story, and discovering it was exciting. You pulled out a clock, a fan, and a tea set, carefully setting them aside.

Then, your hand closed around a small locket. It was beautiful, with intricate designs etched onto its surface. You held the locket up to the light, examining it closer. It was gold, with a delicate chain and a small clasp. The outside was etched with intricate, swirling patterns, the work of a skilled jeweller.

The real beauty was inside. A black and white photo of a woman was tucked safely in it. She was strikingly beautiful with high cheekbones, expressive eyes, and a confident smile. There was something about her that held your gaze, something timeless and captivating, but also strange.

Turning to Aunt Lucinda, you held out the locket. "Look at this, Aunt Lucinda. This feels personal. I think it was sold by mistake."

Lucinda accepted the locket, peering at it with her reading glasses. Her brows furrowed, a soft "Hmm" escaping her lips. "This came in last week," she said, handing it back to you. "It was a man who sold it. A bit awkward, he was. Country accent."

Your curiosity piqued. "Do you remember anything else about him?"

She pondered for a moment, tapping her fingers on a box. "Dark hair, blue eyes. Quite tall. Oh, and he had a bit of a strange look about him."

You rose a brow. “Strange how?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Nothing I could put my finger on, exactly.”

Odd, but there wasn’t a shortage of odd in Pinecoast. "Do you have his contact information?" you asked, hope lacing your voice. "We should ask him about this."

Lucinda nodded, rising from her chair. She had a habit of keeping the contact details of the people who sold to her, at least for a little while. She rummaged through a drawer, finally pulling out a notebook filled with names and numbers. Her finger trailed down the list until it paused. "Here he is," she said, pointing at the name Levi and a phone number next to it.

"Thanks, Aunt Lucinda," you said, holding the locket. "I'll give him a call at lunch.”

With Levi's number saved in your phone, you went back to sorting through the new items. Yet, even as you carefully examined each piece and decided on the markup, your thoughts kept drifting back to the locket.

The antique shop was filled with the usual afternoon bustle. Customers trickled in, attracted by the charm of vintage and history. Aunt Lucinda was at her element, making conversations, sharing stories about the items, and handling transactions with her usual flair.

You, on the other hand, preferred the quieter sanctuary of the backroom, filled with shelves of unsorted items. The room smelled strongly of age and mystery, and every piece in the room was a story yet to be told. It was your favourite part of the shop, a private realm where you could dig into the past without interruptions.

Even amidst the silent company of antiquities, the locket was a constant presence. An insistent whisper in your mind that lured you away from your work. Finally, giving in to your curiosity, you picked up the locket once more.

The woman inside was indeed beautiful. Her features were finely drawn, her expression serene. Her eyes, however, were odd. At first glance, they seemed to be a normal part of the black and white photograph. As you studied the portrait further, you noticed something unusual about her pupils. They were slanted, almost like... an animal's.

A shiver of excitement passed through you. The locket was becoming even more fascinating. The woman in the portrait, so elegant and yet with such peculiar eyes, was a riddle you yearned to solve.

You closed the locket gently, lost in thought. The antique shop carried on its usual pace around you, but for now, you were drawn into the world of the locket. Who was this woman, and what was her story? And, most importantly, what would Levi have to say about it? You decided then and there - you would call him as soon as lunch hour hit.

Time passed at a crawl, but eventually you decided to call Levi. The first attempt went unanswered, his voice message greeting was curt and slightly awkward. You left a brief message and decided to try again later.

The second call was picked up after a few rings. "Hello?" A gruff voice, tinged with a thick country English accent, filled the line.

"Hello, is this Levi?" you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Yeah, this is Levi. Who's this?" His tone was a bit wary, but you caught a note of curiosity there as well.

You gave him your name, smiling even though he couldn’t see it. “I work at the antique shop where you sold some things last week," you explained, keeping your voice steady.

There was a pause, then he said, "Oh, right. How can I help you, then?"

His use of your name sent an unexpected flutter through your stomach. You found his awkwardness charming and somewhat endearing. You took a deep breath and plunged into the reason for your call.

"We found a locket among the items you sold. It has a picture inside," you explained. "It felt... personal. We thought it might have been included by mistake."

Another pause. Then, a sharp intake of breath. "A locket?" he sounded horrified. "Bloody hell, I've been looking everywhere for that. It wasn't meant to go to the shop."

You felt a rush of relief. Your hunch had been right. "I thought so," you said, your tone gentle. "I’m glad I checked."

"Yeah, thanks," he said, sounding genuinely relieved. "I'll swing by tomorrow to collect it."

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. "Actually, I could drop it off after work," you offered. "If you're not too far, that is."

His surprise was evident. "If you’re sure. I live just outside town, by the woods. Are you sure it wouldn't be a bother?"

"No, not at all," you assured him. "I'll text you for the address later."

"Alright, then. Thank you, Grace," Levi said, sounding deeply grateful.

After hanging up, you found your heart beating faster. The call had gone well. Not only had you connected with the locket's owner, but you also had an opportunity to meet him. The mystery of the locket was one step closer to being solved, and you couldn't help the thrill of anticipation that rushed through you.

***

As the day came to a close, Aunt Lucinda locked the door to the shop, her face aglow with the satisfaction of another day well spent among her beloved antiques. Turning to you, her expression turned serious.

"Promise me you'll be safe, Grace," she said, her voice laced with worry. "It's getting dark and you're heading towards the woods."

You nodded, understanding her concern. "Don't worry, Aunt Lucinda. I'm just dropping off the locket. I'll call you when I get back, alright?"

Lucinda seemed somewhat relieved by your reassurances. "Alright, then. Remember, safety first."

You both walked to your respective cars parked by the shop. As Lucinda drove away, you pulled out your phone to check the address Levi had texted you. It wasn't too far - a house located on the outskirts of town, close to the woods.

As you started your car and began driving, a sense of excitement fluttered in your stomach. This wasn't just about returning a locket anymore. It was about the mystery behind it, the intriguing woman in the portrait, and, now, meeting the man who had unintentionally set you off on this journey - Levi.

The sun was setting as you drove towards the address, casting long shadows across the quiet town. The anticipation of the meeting ahead tingled at the back of your mind. Who was Levi, really? How did the locket come into his possession? What was the story behind the peculiar eyes of the woman in the portrait?

Lost in thought, you didn't realise how quickly time passed until you saw the woods approaching in the distance.

As you followed the winding road towards Levi's address, you noticed how the hustle of the town gradually faded into a serene quiet, replaced by the lush green canopy of the woods. After a few more turns, you arrived at the edge of the road where a quaint cabin-like cottage was nestled.

It was a picturesque sight. The house was an inviting mix of warm wood and weathered stone, framed by tall trees and a carpet of greenery. Wildflowers in a myriad of colours dotted the front yard, blending with climbing vines that adorned the walls and window sills of the cottage. The setting sun cast a soft golden glow over the scene, making the cottage look like a picture straight out of a fairytale.

Feeling an undeniable charm emanating from the place, you got out of your car, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of the woods. The locket, carefully wrapped and tucked into your bag, seemed to thrum with an unspoken story.

Climbing from the car and approaching the door, you pressed the doorbell. The sound echoed slightly inside, followed by a bit of scuffle. A bark followed, high-pitched and excited. Then, the door swung open just as a small corgi rushed past, tail wagging furiously as it sniffed at your feet in enthusiastic greeting.

Standing in the doorway was Levi. He looked just as Aunt Lucinda had described - tall, dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a lanky yet muscular build. There was a rugged handsomeness about him that you hadn't quite expected.

"Hey," he said, his country accent stronger in person. He flashed an awkward, slightly nervous smile. His eyes, shadows by that dark, messy hair, seemed to hold a hint of surprise, probably at the sight of the corgi greeting a stranger with such affection.

"Sorry about Annalise," Levi said, scratching the back of his head. "She's not usually this excitable around strangers. She must like you."

Annalise, the corgi, wagged her tail in agreement, her tongue lolling out happily. You couldn't help but grin at her, reaching down to pet her fluffy head.

Levi's presence was indeed intimidating, his tall frame looming over you. Yet, you noticed how he seemed to be trying to make himself smaller, almost as if he was aware of the effect he had. This made you feel slightly better, easing the unusual shyness that had taken hold of you.

"I have your locket," you said, regretfully tearing your hand away from Annalise to pull out the small package from your bag.

His eyes lit up with relief as he took the locket, cradling it gently in his hands as if it was the most precious thing in the world. "Thanks. I can't tell you how much this means to me."

You smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction. "It's no problem, Levi. I'm glad I could help."

Just as you were about to turn and leave, Annalise decided she wasn't ready to say goodbye. She started barking at your feet, running circles around you.

Levi chuckled, his laugh a low, rich sound. "Looks like Annalise won't let you leave just yet. Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?"

The invitation was unexpected. Yet, the warmth of the cottage and the prospect of spending more time with Levi (and Annalise) felt inviting.

"That sounds lovely," you agreed, a small thrill of excitement coursing through you.

Stepping into Levi's cottage, you were instantly struck by the warm, inviting atmosphere. The place was filled with charming antiques, each holding their own piece of history. Levi, despite his obvious awkwardness, exuded a genuine kindness that made you feel at ease.

He led you to a small kitchen at the front of the house, his strides long yet unhurried. The kitchen was a pleasant mix of modern appliances and vintage decor. Antique spice racks lined the walls, holding an assortment of colourful jars. A vintage kettle whistled gently on the stove, next to a set of ceramic mugs that looked like they were from the Victorian era. A charmingly old wooden clock ticked away peacefully on the wall.

Unable to resist, you admired the antique items openly. "These are lovely," you murmured, reaching out to gently touch the ceramic mugs. "They're definitely Victorian, perhaps even from the aesthetic movement."

Levi looked surprised at your knowledge. "You know your stuff," he said, sounding impressed.

You shrugged modestly, a shy smile playing on your lips. "I guess working at an antique shop has its perks."

Throughout the exchange, Annalise followed closely at your heels, her tail wagging non-stop. It wasn't until you sat down at the small kitchen table that she seemed to calm down. Bending down, you ran your fingers through her fur, her eyes closing in contentment at the attention.

While Levi attended to the coffee, your eyes wandered around the kitchen, coming to rest on a collection of family photographs hung on the wall above the table. The black and white images depicted moments from a time gone by, telling a story that spanned generations.

The first photograph that caught your eye was one of a man and a woman. The woman was immediately recognisable – the same striking features from the locket, but she was years younger.Oddly, her eyes were normal in this photo. She was standing close to a man, presumably her husband, both happy and in love.

The second photograph was a group picture featuring a much younger Levi, flanked by his parents and grandparents. Even as a child, his striking blue eyes stood out. The older woman, his grandmother, shared the same unique eyes.

A third photograph showed a larger group - Levi along with multiple brothers and sisters. You studied each face, noting how most of them had normal eyes, except for Levi, his grandmother, and one of his sisters. You felt a strange chill run up your spine as you realised their eyes resembled those of the woman in the locket.

Your gaze lingered on the photographs, a whirlwind of thoughts running through your head. What was the significance of those distinctive eyes? And why did only a few family members have them?

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed when Levi placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of you. "Hope you like it," he said, his voice pulling you back to the present.

"I'm sure I will," you replied, turning your attention back to him. Yet, you knew that the mystery behind those unique eyes and the intriguing family photographs was far from being solved.

As you both settled at the kitchen table with your mugs of coffee, the conversation began to flow more naturally. Levi asked about your work at the antique shop, his questions revealing a genuine interest.

"I can't apologise enough for the hassle," he said, running a hand through his dark hair. "The locket wasn't meant to be in that box I sold to the shop."

"It's no hassle at all, Levi," you assured him, your gaze wandering back to the photographs above the table. "I was happy to come out here. Plus, I got to meet Annalise," you added with a smile, looking down at the corgi snoozing contently at your feet.

His lips quirked up into a shy smile, his blue eyes softening. "I'm glad you like her. She certainly likes you."

Changing the subject, you started to talk about his home. "Your house is beautiful. I love all the antiques you've collected; but isn't it difficult living this far out of town?" you asked, recalling the lack of a car outside.

"I manage," he replied with a shrug. "I get most things delivered, and I enjoy the quiet of the woods. And I..." He paused, seeming to consider his words. "I don't drive."

That surprised you. "Really? That's unusual."

Levi nodded, a bit of discomfort crossing his face. "I guess you could say I'm a bit of a shut-in. I prefer it this way." He quickly added, "it's not something I like to discuss."

Your curiosity was piqued, but you respected his privacy. Instead, you took another sip of your coffee, savouring the rich flavour. Meanwhile, a myriad of questions swirled around in your head – about the locket, Levi's family, his reclusive lifestyle, and those unique, piercing blue eyes.

After you finished your coffee, you checked the time and realised how late it had gotten. "I should probably head back, it's getting late," you said, standing up from the table.

As you declared your intention to leave, a soft lull fell over the room. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, rather a peaceful one, filled with the quiet ticking of the antique clock and the soft whistling of the wind outside.

"Of course," Levi nodded, his voice understanding, as he moved to lead you to the door.

Annalise, roused herself from her nap, tail wagging as she followed the pair of you.

Reaching the door, you could feel Levi's eyes on you, as if he was grappling with something. The slight furrow of his brows and the way his lips pressed together in thought hinted at an internal debate. Not wanting to rush him, you simply waited, your fingers brushing against the worn texture of the door.

"Grace?" he finally said, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room. "I... um, I was wondering... would you like to come by again? Maybe for another cup of coffee?" His words hung in the air, filled with hope and a little bit of uncertainty.

You felt a warm smile spread across your face at his words. Teasingly, you said, "That’s unexpected, especially from a self-proclaimed shut in." Your heart fluttered at the sight of a faint blush creeping up his neck, his blue eyes dropping to the floor in slight embarrassment.

"Well," he started, lifting his gaze back to meet yours, the blush still evident on his cheeks, "I am usually a shut-in; but, I think... I'd like to get to know you better, Grace."

The honesty in his words brought a sense of warmth to your heart. His confession, the awkwardness of it all, felt so genuine, so raw that it was endearing. His company had been a source of comfort to you tonight, in ways you hadn't anticipated.

"I'd like that too, Levi," you found yourself saying, the words coming out much easier than you thought they would. His face brightened up at your acceptance, a beautiful smile that reached his eyes, making them twinkle in the dimly lit room.

With a contented sigh, you stepped out into the cool night air, a sense of tranquillity washing over you. As you turned to wave him a final goodbye, you realised how fondly you were already thinking of Levi, this enigmatic man with a locket and a secret.

The drive back home was filled with thoughts of him and his charming little cottage, the locket, and those fascinating blue eyes. You found yourself already anticipating your next visit, wondering what other secrets and stories were waiting to unfold.

***

Over the next month, life took on a rhythm. The antique shop kept you busy, and the free time you had was mostly spent with Levi. Aunt Lucinda, ever the matchmaker, teased you constantly about your budding relationship, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Your time with Levi was usually spent at his cottage by the woods. He would show you his antique collection, each piece with a story to tell. Evenings were reserved for 'bad horror movie nights' - just the two of you curled up on his old, comfortable couch with a pile of snacks, laughing at the ridiculous plot lines and cheesy effects.

But amidst all the comfort and laughter, something was gnawing at the back of your mind - the picture in the locket and Levi's eyes. Every now and then, you'd find yourself looking at him, studying his face, trying to catch a glimpse of those odd, slanted pupils that you'd seen in the photograph.

One evening, you found yourself back on Levi's couch, beer in hand and a rather terrible werewolf movie playing on the screen.

As the moonlight filtered through the window, it hit Levi's face at an angle. For a brief second, you saw his pupils shift, resembling the ones in the picture. It was brief, but it was there.

Surprised, you turned to him. "Levi," you started, your voice cautious, "your eyes... they just..."

He seemed to understand what you were about to say, because he turned his face away from you, hiding his eyes in the shadow. The action felt heavy, like there was more to it than just a simple reflex.

The room went silent except for the terrible movie continuing to play in the background. You felt a flurry of emotions - surprise, concern, but above all, a growing curiosity. This man, who you had grown so fond of, had a secret. And you found yourself wanting to know what it was.

You watched Levi, the way his broad shoulders stiffened and his posture closed off. His face was turned away from you, shadowed and unreadable, but the tension in the air was palpable.

You could have let it drop. It would have been easy to return your attention to the movie, to ignore the sudden shift in the room. But looking at him now, the vulnerability he was showing, the shame he was trying so hard to hide, you found you couldn't ignore it.

"Levi," you began gently, turning on the couch to face him. You laid a reassuring hand on his arm, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt. "Your great-grandmother had the same eyes in the locket," you continued softly, “and some of your family in the pictures too."

You felt him stiffen slightly at your words. The movie played on, but your focus was on Levi, on coaxing him out of his shell. This wasn't about idle curiosity anymore; you could see that he was genuinely worried, that this secret was something that he held close, something he feared sharing.

"It's okay, Levi," you murmured, your hand moving to gently squeeze his arm. "You don't have to tell me anything if you're not ready. I just want you to know that... whatever it is, it doesn't change how I feel about you."

At your words, you felt him relax a bit, his posture losing some of its rigidity. He still didn't meet your eyes, but he turned towards you a bit, a silent acknowledgement of your words.

You waited, giving him the space to process your words, to decide what he wanted to do. There was no pressure here, no judgement, only acceptance and understanding. You hoped Levi could see that, and that, whatever his secret was, he knew he didn't have to bear it alone.

After a pause that felt both too short and too long, Levi turned back to face you. As he did, you found yourself looking into his eyes again. They were different now. His blue eyes, always so captivating, were even brighter now, almost glowing in the dim light of the room. The pupils, the ones that you had only caught glimpses of before, were clear and distinct now - oddly shaped, almost like that of an animal.

Despite the initial surprise, you found yourself drawn to them. There was something wild and beautiful about them, something incredibly captivating. "They're beautiful, Levi," you found yourself saying, your voice almost a whisper.

At your words, he gave a soft, incredulous laugh, his gaze dropping to his hands. "You don't have to say that, you know," he mumbled, clearly not believing you.

“I mean it,” you replied, reaching out to brush a gentle hand across his cheek. “I meant it when I said you don’t have to tell me anything, too.”

“You deserve to know.” Taking a deep breath, as if steeling himself, Levi began to explain. "I'm not... entirely human," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Neither is any of my family. It all started with my great-grandmother. She was bitten by a werewolf."

His words hung in the air between you two. The idea, the reality of it, felt both strange and incredible at the same time. You had seen werewolves on the big screen, read about them in books, but the concept of them being real, of Levi being one, was something you had never imagined. Yet somehow… you believed him.

"It’s not like the movies," he continued, his gaze back on you, eyes glowing intensely. "It wasn't a curse. It became a part of her, a part of us. It runs in the family, you see. Some of us, like me, we have...traits we struggle to hide even in human form."

The confession hung in the air, his words wrapping around you like a cocoon, leaving the two of you in this intimate bubble of shared secrets and raw honesty. Despite the strange revelations, you found yourself comforted by his words, by his trust in sharing such a secret with you.

Your hand found its way back to his arm, squeezing gently in reassurance. "Levi," you said softly, "It's okay. I understand. And it really doesn't change how I feel about you."

Levi seemed to crumble at your words, his gaze dropping to where your hand rested on his arm. The glow in his eyes seemed to flicker like a dying flame, disbelief clear on his face.

Levi looked down at your hand resting on his arm. "Grace, it's more than just the eyes," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

He swallowed, a look of determination crossing his face. "Every month, I transform. It's painful, terrifying. My body shifts, bones snap, I’m not me anymore."

His words hung in the air, the room growing quiet except for the soft hum of the movie playing in the background.

"And it's not just the transformations. It's every day. Trying to keep my eyes normal in public. Trying to hide who I am."

He looked away, his hands clenching into fists. "It's why I moved out here. Away from everyone. It's easier to hide. Easier than seeing the stares, the questions."

Levi's words trailed off, his eyes distant. "I've lost so many friends...relationships...all because I couldn't hide who I am. I didn't want to put anyone else through that."

It was a self-sabotage, an attempt to push you away. But you didn't budge.

Before he could continue, you leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. It was a simple, comforting kiss. A way to tell him without words that you weren't scared. That you were here, that you understood. And that his secret, his true self, didn't change how you felt about him.

You pulled back, a soft smile playing on your lips. Levi sat there, still as a statue, his eyes wide with surprise. His bright blue irises, now faintly glowing with their animalistic slant, stared back at you. It was as if he was struggling to comprehend what just happened, unable to believe that you hadn't fled.

The silence in the room was palpable, the only sound being the muted movie playing in the background, creating an intimate bubble around you both. And then, after what felt like an eternity, Levi's eyes softened. Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned in and met your lips again.

This kiss was different. It started off gentle, mirroring the softness of your initial touch. His lips moved against yours, timid at first but growing bolder with every second. It was sweet and chaste, a mere taste of the affection you'd come to share.

His kiss grew desperate, his hands reaching up to gently cradle your face. He kissed you with an intensity that left you breathless, a raw hunger laced with a hint of vulnerability. His fingers tangled into your hair, holding you closer, as if afraid you'd slip away if he let you go.

It hit you then. The desperation, the raw need, it was a reflection of his isolation, his loneliness. He had been deprived of this – of closeness, of acceptance, of love – for so long. This realisation made your heart ache for him, made your resolve to stick by him even stronger.

As you returned his kiss with equal fervour, you hoped that he could feel it too, feel your promise. That you were here, and you were here to stay.

Pulling back, Levi looked at you, his eyes wide and questioning. There was a vulnerability in his gaze, a hope mixed with fear. He was waiting for something, seeking some form of assurance.

You realised he needed to hear it, to know that you weren't just going along with this, that you genuinely wanted this. So you took his face in your hands, locking eyes with him, and poured out your heart.

"I want you to know something, Levi," you began, your voice steady and clear. "I'm not here because I feel sorry for you. I'm not here because I think you need saving. I'm here because...because I care for you."

There it was, plain and simple. You watched as Levi's expression shifted, a mix of surprise and relief flooding his features.

"I like you for you," you continued, your hands moving to gently cup his jaw. "You're kind, you're intelligent, and you're incredibly sweet. Yes, you're a werewolf, and it's a big part of who you are - but it's not all you are."

You paused, letting your words sink in, watching as Levi's eyes flickered with an array of emotions.

"I'm curious, yes," you admitted, your fingers tracing the lines of his face. "That's because I want to know you, all of you. I want you to feel comfortable sharing your life with me, whenever you're ready."

His eyes searched yours for a long moment, perhaps seeking any sign of deceit. But all he would find was honesty, warmth, and an affection that had been blossoming since that first meeting at his front door.

"I want this, Levi," you said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I want you. We can take this at your pace, alright?"

His eyes held yours for a moment longer before something seemed to shift within him. His shoulders relaxed, and a soft sigh of relief escaped his lips. "You know," he murmured, his fingers lightly brushing against your cheek. "I've wanted this since that first cup of coffee we had together."

His words hung in the air, and you felt a surge of warmth rush through you. This wasn't one-sided, he felt this too. His confession added another layer of intimacy to this moment, a shared understanding, a shared want.

"I've spent so long hiding..." he trailed off, his gaze dropping to your lips for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "It feels good not to. With you."

His words were like a balm, soothing any lingering doubts you may have had. You saw a spark in his eyes then, a glimpse of the man he was beneath the secret he had been forced to carry alone. There was a newfound confidence in his gaze, a certainty that hadn't been there before.

Before you could respond, he was leaning in, capturing your lips with his once again. This kiss was different, though. It was a promise, a claim. It was Levi, without the fears, without the reservations. It was pure, unadulterated emotion, and you found yourself lost in the sweetness of the moment.

The world outside ceased to exist as you melted into each other, the taste of his kiss the only thing that mattered. The whispers of doubts and the uncertainty of the future faded away. For now, it was just you and Levi, wrapped up in each other, lost in the beauty of this shared intimacy.

#exophilia #exophilia fiction #monster x reader #monster romance #monster boyfriend #tag: mxf #tag: male monster #tag: female reader #tag: sfw #tag: werewolf

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cress-meadowforge · 4 months

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TASK 002: CHILDHOOD BEDROOM

“Let us be elegant or die!”― Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

Lavish, feminine, coquettish: Cress' childhood room was the epitome of the best One had to offer. Lace and silk, shades of pink that were pale as blush. Before Cress had the freedom to collect her curiosities, she collected antique luxuries. Vintage gowns and brass candlesticks, refurbished wooden vanities and mirrors she buffed. Tulle she turned into curtain adornments, and old books stacked high beneath chipped vases and busts. After all, very little was new, even in the district of Luxury, but they were wealthy, and Cress was determined to live as Capitolites do.

#135 #mtotask #inspo #home

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naradivision · 1 year

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“Vision without action is a daydream. Action without vision is a nightmare” —Honda Soichiro

Introduction 💠

Saigo Fuyugami (冬雅味彩悟) is the third member of the Nara Division rap battle team, Miraitabi. He is also greatly known for his ferocious rapping by the moniker “Tsukumogami” in rap battles. Exerting an unapproachable aura and incomparable keen acumen in business, he was once an heir to the exalted Fuyugami Group until some incident happened a few years ago. And in consequence of that, he is now living as he pleases by evaluating the monetary worth of valuable items in Kansai. Despite his participation as a third member, he is originally the one whom governments have an eye on.

The art belongs to picrew created by @onigirimekomeko (Retouching, some accessories, together with background are added to the original)

Even though Saigo has entered his early 30s by now, he still retains an attractive youth as back in his old days. Contrasting with his rather pale complexion is a long lustrous indigo hair neatly combed and usually tied in a low tight ponytail, leaving some side bangs falling over his right eye. His build is tall and thin, yet he still keeps up in good health. His most outstanding features are a pair of piercing grey eyes with sharp icy-blue glints that look like they’re scanning through your every being from behind those rectangle eyeglasses. He seems to take a liking to dressing in kinagashi style (male casual kimono but without hakama). Over his clothes, he wears a black haori fastened with the team’s twin bronze momiji chain brooch. He wears tabi socks, a pair of zōri, and often carries a black wagasa (Japanese traditional umbrella) when goes outside

However, he considers wearing a classic shirt and trousers from time to time too. Be that as it may, the image of him always donning a tidy business suit becomes an unforgettable sight to anyone who used to know him back then.

Etymology

Saigo is written “colors” (彩) and “to understand” (悟)

Fuyugami is written “winter” (冬) and “high class/ graceful” (雅味)

His name is often misspelled to be “Saikou” which means “highest/ supreme” in Japanese because of his reputation in business. Oh well, his first name when written in different kanji can refer to more meanings anyway…

Aliases

Fuyugami / Saigo-san

Young master / Sai-kun - Chishio

Old man - Yuuya (sometimes)

Sensei - Few customers

Onii-sama - His half-sisters (mockingly)

“That Saikou”

“Winter” (Figuratively)

— Biographical Info —

Gender: Male

Age: 31

Ethnicity: Japanese

Hair Color: Dark Indigo

Eye Color: Silver-grey/ icy blue

Height: 187 cm (6’1”)

Weight: 64 kg (141 lbs)

Bloodtype: B

Birthday: December 22 (Winter solstice)

Zodiac: Capricorn ♑️

Piercings: N/A

Markings: N/A

Headcanon Voiceclaim: nqrse (Rapping & Singing)

Family:

Mother (deceased)

Stepmother

Father (deceased)

“Half-sisters”

Relatives from both father’s and mother’s sides

— D.R.B. Info —

MC Name: Tsukumogami

Occupation: Property appraiser, Stock trader

Color Theme: #C0C8D9 (Lavender Gray)

Division: Nara

Team: Miraitabi

Position: 3rd member

Hypnosis Microphone

Saigo’s Microphone looks like a decorative brass-and-indigo antique rotary telephone with some modification at its pedestal to make it easier to carry. (to elaborate; like those from 1920s but not a candlestick one)

His Speakers take after the shape of a big and tall hexagonal structure which looks like a ‘gazebo’ with its five sides enclosed and one side open. Sloping upward from all sides to the top, the roof itself has numerous speakers planted together with an ornate finial decorated at its apex. Even if the only open side of the structure may allow outsiders to get a glimpse of ‘something’ obscure inside, it’s still hard to figure out what is actually there because almost every part of this structure is seemingly buried under thick pure-white snow. In the air, there is the faint icy mist and sparkling snowflakes showering around.

His rap ability, Katashiro —or in other words ‘Scapegoats’, allows him to protect allies and himself by transferring all damages to a selected person on the opponent’s side instead. While wisely choosing utmost one member from his foes to be a ‘Katashiro’ for his team, his ability will once and for all linger a death grip on that person for the rest of the battle like some kind of curse. To what extent his ability could deal with ranges from a small scratch to the lethal strike. However, his ability would reach its capacity when that said ‘Katashiro’ becomes no longer available for battle.

His theme music usually leans toward retro classical music with the lo-fi remix. In his own solo, he often raps in a calm monologue that mostly sounds like he was rambling away his life, but if anyone does pay close attention to it; his raps are more likely to contain some philosophical matters and propose the discussion on various dilemmas. He raps at how he prefers the cold and harsh facts to any fantasized or baseless ideology. Sometimes he may allude things to the elements of art and appreciate the authentic beauty of nature. However, when being provoked, he is shown to be unbelievably skilled at spitting such fast and ferocious verses just like the chilly merciless gust in “winter”.

— Personality —

Sticking out from the crowd by his unapproachable chilly atmosphere, Saigo is accustomed to others just perceiving him to be another old damn Scrooge from the high-class society. Seeming nonchalant about whatever people think of him, he is an upright and private person who strongly values objective logic. Sometimes he prides himself highly so that he may come across as blunt or offensive to many. He has no interest in paying court to anyone either. However, once one gets to know him, they will find he is far more sophisticated than most people believe him to be.

Behaving rather cold and a bit haughty on the outside; he is in fact a discreet, analytical, and quite meticulous tactician blessed with both superior intelligence and strong ambition running through his veins. With his cynical attitude in the mix, he has trained himself to become super self-dependent and normally sets freaking high standards for himself. He has a hunger to learn while preferring to make discoveries of his own. And to find the best way of doing things, his action-oriented nature has sometimes made him a formidable daredevil as well as a capable risk taker.

Even so, those few who are close to him all agree in unison that albeit how paradoxical he appears to be; he is indeed an amusing person who has a good heart inside —it’s just that he seems so adamant about never accepting that fact. Despite regularly spewing a shitton of complaints and criticism, he more than often takes responsibility for many things he doesn’t really need to. And after he has moved into Nara, he tends to act more leisurely as he claims his current goal is to live a peaceful life without having too much work. Good grief to him, now he has to deal with two children(?) trying to invade his beloved sanctuary every day.

— Fun Facts —

Handedness: Left

Favorite Food: Desserts & Tea

Least Favorite Food: Whale meat

Likes: Profits, Artworks, Literatures, Challenges, Puzzles, Learning new things, Adequate sleep, Tea, Desserts (esp. Asahi’s confectionaries), Seeing his goal through

Dislikes: Boredom, Parties, Chuohku, Phonies, Hypocrisy, Idiocy, Unorganized environment, Cats, Dust, Cocky brats, Compliments, People who only talk big but do nothing, Those who looks down upon his teammates

— Background —

*To be continued*

Trivia

As his surname stands for “winter” season, his birthday is around the day in the Northern Hemisphere that happens to have the shortest period of daylight but have the longest night of the year called “Winter solstice” or “冬至 (Touji)” in Japan.

He has one trustful bodyguard in the guise of a personal assistant named “Chishio”. Since he has known this Chishio guy from a tender age, he tends to act casually around him.

The Fuyugami Group is well-known for their large investment in a lot of trading businesses in Japan. His father was the former CEO of their parent company but now it’s his half-sister who takes over.

Due to his part in business, he used to meet many tycoons in person and is also fluent in foreign languages, especially English.

He has excellent marksmanship training for self-defense and soon develops a quick response to danger thanks to multiple attempts of assassination.

His normal appetite is pretty low yet he seems to always have a second stomach for desserts and is an avid tea person.

The current place he resides in is his deceased mother’s Taisho Roman style mansion rumored to be a haunted house until his arrival. Surrounded by a lavish number of hydrangea flowers, this exquisite abode is recognized among the neighborhood by the name “Ajisai Residence”. Recently it has become the usual hangout place for Miraitabi’s members.

Being the only one in the team who isn’t originally from Nara, he was born in Tokyo and spent some childhood in Kyoto. However, after he moved here, he frequently travels back and forth between Nara and Kyoto to visit his uncle.

Although he has saved up more than enough to waste for the rest of his life, he still gets a side job and resumes trading because of pure boredom (besides, he prefers the hobby that can make money).

He doesn’t believe in ghosts but choosing his MC name after some type of yōkai.

#hypmic oc #hypnosis microphone oc #nara division #miraitabi #saigo fuyugami #character bio #oc profile #picrew #original: @onigirimekomeko #with some modification from ibis paint #someone said his voiceclaim should be in rap battle so I’ll take that

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