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claramelooo · 3 months ago

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Woven Fates (7/20)

Well, well, well... I dunno what to say for this chapter hahahaha it was... Wow... To intense to write this.

I hope you can enjoy it! <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio X Fem Reader

Summary: Finally you seem to be finding your place.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

Surrender

The silence of that morning seemed to have a life of its own—dense and enveloping, hanging like a veil over the breakfast table. You tried to focus on the slice of bread in your hands, but it was impossible to ignore their presence—Rio, relaxed as always, her eyes half-lidded as she took a lazy sip of coffee, and Agatha, meticulously stirring her drink with an almost lethargic air.

The world had changed, but only you seemed to know it. Since the night before, things between the three of you had taken on a different shade, charged with a meaning that made you blush at the smallest gesture. Words that once seemed banal now sounded like secrets wrapped in double meanings.

“You’re very quiet today.” Agatha’s voice cut through the air like a polished blade—smooth, yet sharp.

You lifted your eyes with effort, trying to force a smile. “Just thinking about some things from college.”

She tilted her head slightly, as if she had heard something interesting but didn’t want to show it openly. Her blue eyes—cutting and patient—swept over your face with uncomfortable precision.

“Something important?” Agatha questioned, her voice low, yet carrying an enigmatic tone.

“I think so,” you replied, your throat dry.

Rio let out a low, husky laugh but said nothing. She simply rested her coffee cup on the table with a soft sound, her long fingers lazily draped over the marble surface. There was something about her movements—something slow, too controlled to be innocent.

“You seem more… distracted than thoughtful, darling.” Rio finally broke the silence, her words light but dangerous. She didn’t look directly at you, just let the comment slip as she ran her tongue absentmindedly over her upper lip, as if savoring a taste that still lingered.

You tried to laugh, but the sound came out nervous, awkward. “I think I need better sleep.”

“Maybe.” Agatha smiled softly, though the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She lifted her coffee to her lips, taking a slow sip, as if savoring something beyond the drink. “But sometimes, sleep isn’t exactly what solves things.”

Your stomach turned. There was something in her words, something that slipped between meanings and left you in a state of uncomfortable alertness.

Rio leaned forward slightly, her posture relaxed but predatory, and spoke with her usual insolent calm. “It’s a shame, you know.”

“A shame?” you asked, not really wanting the answer.

She looked at you, finally. Her dark eyes gleamed with something that shouldn’t be there so early in the morning. “The best things happen while everyone’s asleep.”

You tried to focus on breathing, but it was as if the air in the room had suddenly grown too heavy. They were playing a game—one you didn’t fully understand yet but were undoubtedly a part of.

You were too focused on keeping your face from betraying the memory of what you had witnessed the night before—the desire you could still feel pulsing beneath your skin—when Rio broke the silence with such studied indifference that it only heightened your apprehension.

“So,” she began, leaning lazily into her chair, her fingers sliding over the cup’s handle with a touch so light it seemed almost absentminded, “who was the friend you met yesterday?”

Your heart jumped involuntarily. You blinked, surprised, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under her gaze. “Friend?”

Rio arched an elegant eyebrow, a subtle smile forming at the corner of her lips, as if she were amused by your reaction. “I thought you had gone out.” She paused, letting the silence stretch between you. “And didn’t even tell us.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Agatha intervened before any words could come out. Her tone was calm, controlled, but there was an undertone to her words that made your spine stiffen.

“She doesn’t have to tell us everything, my love.” Agatha’s smile was slight, almost casual, but her eyes were far too sharp for the gesture to seem innocent. “Everyone is entitled to secrets, aren’t they?”

Secrets.

The word hung in the air like a sweet, insidious poison. You felt the heat rise to your face—hot, betraying—exposing your failed attempt at indifference.

“Of course.” Rio murmured slowly, as if weighing the validity of Agatha’s argument. Her dark eyes drifted over you, assessing, measuring. But then, her tone softened, a dangerous sweetness slipping into every syllable: “I just hope you had fun. You seemed a little… desperate last night.”

The word flowed through the air, making you swallow hard. Desperate? You were. After Rio touched you, after Agatha watched every second of it; after they ignored you and fucked intensely, calling your name.

Frustration burned in your throat, your wounded pride pulsing like an exposed wound. They were older, powerful, women the whole world admired. And yet, it was them who made you lose control. That should have driven you away. Should have made you afraid. But it only made you want them even more.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “I just went out with a friend.”

Agatha let out a low, drawn-out chuckle, as if she knew something you didn’t. Or worse—as if she knew exactly what you knew and was simply having fun with it. She rested her chin on her hand, her blue eyes piercing through you like blades. “And what did you do?”

The way she asked shouldn’t have made your skin burn, but it did. As if the answer didn’t matter, as if everything was already written and decided before you even opened your mouth.

“College work,” you replied, your voice weaker than you would’ve liked.

Rio laughed softly, her long fingers stirring the spoon inside her coffee cup. “College…” she repeated, savoring the word. “You’re so young, aren’t you, my sweet?”

Her laughter sounded almost affectionate, but it carried something dark, something that made your stomach twist. It wasn’t about youth. It was about you. About how, despite your age, despite your inexperience, you were already hopelessly entangled with them.

Your heart pounded, and you hated how your mind raced back to the feeling of Rio’s hand on your skin during the lecture, to Agatha’s possessive glances—to the overwhelming scene you had witnessed behind that slightly open door.

“Well, well…” Agatha’s murmur sliced through the air like a sharp blade. Her tone was soft, almost lazy, but the way her words dragged out felt like a warning. You felt the weight of her gaze settling on you, pulling your attention before you could even avoid it.

“Rio mentioned something about you wanting a job?”

Oh, not this again.

Your stomach twisted, and you lowered your head, feeling the heat rise to your face. The mere act of having to ask them for anything made an uncomfortable unease grow inside you. They were already so generous, so good. The last thing you wanted was to seem ungrateful. Or worse, a burden.

"Yes… Well…" Your voice came out hesitant, the words seeming too fragile to survive under the weight of that gaze.

Agatha tilted her head slightly, her eyes assessing you as if she were taking apart your intentions, piece by piece.

"Aren’t you satisfied with your internship at the studio, dear?" The way she said it made your stomach clench. The "dear" was sweet on the surface, but there was something sharp lurking just beneath. "Many young people would kill for this opportunity."

Your chest sank, a cold weight spreading through your ribs.

"I'm loving the experience, Agatha, really." The words came out rushed, an anxious attempt to reassure her. "But—"

"But…" Agatha narrowed her eyes, a calculated and relentless gleam dancing in them. It was an invitation to continue, but instead of encouraging, her expectation crushed any confidence you might have had.

Your body tensed. You averted your gaze to some random point behind her, trying to draw courage from the void.

"Come on, little girl." Her tone was almost bored, but the ice behind those words sent a chill down your spine. "I don’t have all the time in the world."

Little girl. Fuck. Damn words.

You took a deep breath.

"I—" Your voice faltered for a moment. Your eyes scanned the room, looking for something solid to anchor your mind. Finally, you exhaled and forced the words out. "Well… The internship isn’t paid. And like this, I’ll never be able to rent an apartment." You concluded, feeling proud for a moment.

Agatha remained silent for an instant, her eyes fixed on you, sharp as if she were dismantling you piece by piece. She tilted her head slightly to the side, her fingers idly sliding over her wrist, as if analyzing the situation before deciding how to act.

"Ah…" She finally murmured, the corner of her lips curling slightly, but without any real trace of a smile. "So that's it."

You felt a knot form in your throat as you nodded slowly.

Rio, beside you, let out a short sigh and crossed her arms, chocolate-colored eyes sliding over you in a way that made your chest tighten.

"You never told us you wanted to move out." Rio's voice was low, almost a casual reminder, but you could sense the underlying weight in those words.

You averted your gaze, your hands instinctively clenching into fists at your sides.

"I… thought it was obvious," you said hesitantly. "I can’t live on charity forever."

Agatha let out a low, dry laugh and tilted her head as if genuinely surprised by your response.

"Charity?" She repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what you think we’re giving you?"

You opened your mouth but hesitated. There was something in her eyes—a cold gleam, something that seemed both challenging and slightly irritated.

Agatha sighed, as if growing tired of the conversation. She adjusted her blazer, her nails sliding over the dark fabric before raising her gaze to you again.

"Rio mentioned you seemed worried about money," she said slowly, as if choosing her words with surgical precision. "That’s why she suggested an allowance."

Your chest tightened painfully. You felt the heat rush to your face—not from shyness, but something closer to indignation.

Allowance.

The word sounded like a slap.

As if you were a child. As if you were being pampered, taken care of, as if you had no real autonomy.

You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to contain the wave of frustration.

"Wouldn’t that be special treatment?" Your voice came out firmer than expected, and you held Agatha’s gaze, despite the unease growing inside you. "Isn’t all of this already special treatment?"

The silence that followed was almost suffocating.

Agatha blinked slowly, as if savoring your words, as if she were about to dismantle them one by one.

Rio narrowed her eyes, her lips curving slightly in a half-smile that did nothing to ease the tension in the air.

"Watch your tone," Agatha said, her voice soft but as sharp as a blade. It wasn’t a shout, nor a suggestion. It was a warning—clear and precise—that made you shrink involuntarily. "You are here because we allow it. Because we saw something in you that might be worth shaping. But don’t be mistaken, dear. You are not irreplaceable."

Agatha's raw and cruel words sent a chill down your spine, but you didn’t back down. "I’m not asking to be irreplaceable. I just want to be treated like an adult."

Agatha laughed, a low, humorless sound, yet it carried a strange sweetness.

"Oh. An adult?" She leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, her eyes fixed on you as if dissecting your soul. "Adults don’t need allowances. Adults also don’t cry in the laps of strangers. But you did all that, didn’t you? What does that make you?"

The question reverberated in your mind like a cruel echo.

What does that make you?

A child.

Not because Agatha had said it out loud, but because she had made sure to show it. The way the word "adult" left her lips, laced with disdain, as if it were a fantasy you were trying to wear without deserving it. As if, at the slightest touch, that illusion would shatter, revealing what you really were.

Your body responded before your mind could catch up. The words died in your throat, and you felt a pang of embarrassment at how your posture wavered, almost imperceptibly.

Agatha didn’t wait for you to respond. Already out of patience and visibly irritated, she ran her tongue over her lips, as if tasting something invisible in the air. Then, she slightly pulled away from the table and adjusted the cuffs of her elegant coat.

"Unfortunately, I’m afraid our conversation must end here… I have things to handle at the studio. Saturday or not, there’s always work to do."

You sighed in defeat and nodded, not really knowing how to respond. The movement seemed to please her.

"Be a good girl for me, yes?" She added, her eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t fully decipher.

You swallowed hard. Asking what exactly she meant would sound ridiculous, so you remained silent. Your silence made her smile.

"See you later."

And then, Agatha was gone.

Leaving you alone with Rio.

The sound of the door closing echoed through the house. You realized you had been holding your breath and slowly let it out. Your eyes drifted to the woman in front of you, who absentmindedly spun the ring on her finger.

"Well," Rio murmured, leaning back in her chair like a satisfied feline, "looks like it’s just the two of us now."

Rio observed you for a moment, her eyes sliding over you with a kind of calculated tenderness. Then, as if wanting to ease the weight of the previous conversation, she smiled slightly and reached out, her cool fingers brushing your arm.

"You made Aggie mad." She said, almost amused, as if it were a small inconvenience rather than something still burning inside your chest.

You lowered your gaze, biting the inside of your cheek. It was obvious that you had. Agatha never bothered to hide when something upset her—and today, you were that something.

"But don’t worry," Rio continued, her voice a striking contrast to Agatha’s harshness. "She never stays mad for too long."

That should have comforted you. But somehow, the fact that Rio was trying to reassure you only made the weight on your chest grow. As if, instead of pulling you away from Agatha’s suffocating grip, she was simply wrapping you in another kind of chain—soft, welcoming, but still a chain.

Rio tilted her head slightly, her fingers tracing a gentle circle on your arm before pulling away.

"She only wants what’s best for you," she said, and the way the phrase was spoken sounded like an undeniable truth, something unquestionable.

"We do."

The we.

A shiver ran up your spine.

You swallowed dryly, still feeling the shadow of Agatha’s words circling your mind, still hearing the echo of that cruel question.

What does that make you?

Rio smiled, her dark eyes filled with something both soft and impenetrable at the same time.

"Don't be so tense, darling. Let's do something to distract you, shall we?" she suggested, standing up and extending her hand to you. "Come."

A shiver ran up your spine. You couldn’t tell if what you felt was discomfort or excitement. Maybe both.

Rio didn’t seem in a hurry to fill the silence. On the contrary, she seemed to savor it. Her dark eyes locked onto yours, and a small smile appeared at the corner of her lips.

“Something wrong, little bunny?”

You opened your mouth, but no immediate answer came. You didn’t know if you wanted to run away or get closer. If you wanted to lose yourself in this game or keep your distance. But maybe you had no choice.

Because Rio didn’t seem willing to let you escape so easily.

The afternoon moved lazily after lunch, soft light filtering through the curtains as the world outside seemed to fade away. Rio appeared with a generous tub of ice cream and two spoons, her smile a mixture of mischief and affection. She shook the tub in your direction like it was an irresistible offer.

“Pick a movie,” she said casually, but with a peculiar glint in her eyes. “Today, you're in charge.”

You chose something light and charming—My Neighbor Totoro. A movie that always brought you comfort with its sweet and magical tones, even if it was a little childish. Rio didn’t seem to mind; on the contrary, she shrugged with relaxed acceptance. She hummed, settling beside you on the couch.

She let out a satisfied chuckle, adjusting herself and casually pulling your legs over hers. “Good choice. Aggie would find it too soft…” She scooped some ice cream and, without warning, brought the spoon to your lips. “Come on, open up.”

You hesitated for a second, but the way her eyes sparkled with amusement made you part your lips, accepting the creamy sweetness. Rio smiled, running her thumb over the corner of your mouth to wipe away a stray drop of ice cream, then licked her own finger as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

With every new spoonful, your mind seemed to sink into a lazy haze, like sinking into cotton. Your shoulders relaxed against her, your eyelids grew heavier. You felt good, protected, pampered in a way that shouldn’t have pleased you so much. Rio seemed to notice this, because her mischievous smile returned as she whispered, “Our little secret, right?”

You only nodded, your heart beating a little faster when you felt her lips brush lightly against your cheek. It was soft at first, just a timid touch, but Rio soon lost any hesitation.

As the minutes passed, Rio moved closer, invading your space with an unsettling ease. She nudged you lightly with her shoulder, laughing when you murmured a small complaint while trying to balance the ice cream tub without spilling it.

"Everything okay there, silly girl?" she teased, her fingers grazing your waist to tickle you ever so slightly.

You tried to answer, but you were already so relaxed that you just laughed in response. There was something hypnotizing about the way Rio spoiled you without hesitation—as if she were discovering a new kind of affection she hadn’t realized she craved so much.

"Good girl," she said with a playful smile, her eyes dancing with a fiery spark.

The world seemed to slip through your fingers as Rio pulled you even closer. She inhaled your scent discreetly, her nose brushing against the sensitive curve between your neck and shoulder. The gesture shouldn’t have felt so intimate, but heat spread through your belly too quickly, making your breath hitch.

As if wanting to savor the moment, she pressed wet, lingering kisses along your jawline. Every slow and deliberate touch made your body pulse, leaving you softer, lighter, more willing to surrender to her.

“Are you always like this?” Her voice was a soft, low growl, teasingly close to your ear. “So... delicious?”

You tried to laugh at her blatant flirting, but the sound got stuck in your throat, turning into something close to a desperate sigh. Your body felt like it was about to crumble under her skilled touch.

Rio didn’t stop. Her hands glided along your sides with an almost cruel slowness, as if mapping every inch of you. Every gesture was careful but also filled with possession, as if you were something she hadn’t known she could have but now refused to let go.

The heavy sigh against your skin made your heart stumble in your chest. Her voice came out husky, almost broken. “I never get this chance with Aggie…”

For a moment, it felt like a stray thought, a confession she hadn’t meant to say out loud. “But you... you let me.”

Those words wrapped around you, drowning out any attempt at rational thought. Her warm breath grazed your slightly parted lips, as if her mere proximity was stealing the air you needed. The gentle caress she gave your hair felt like it had a direct connection to your nervous system, relaxing you completely.

“You let me do whatever I want with you, don’t you?”

Before you could respond—or even think about denying it—her tongue flicked over the pulsing spot on your neck, followed by a strong suction that tore a helpless moan from your lips.

Your head fell back, eyes shut tight, body arching in an involuntary surrender. The air grew thick, charged with something deeper, something beyond any physical touch could explain.

Giving yourself to Rio wasn’t just a carnal act; it was a kind of unraveling of your own will, as if every fiber of your being was crying out for the dominance she offered without asking.

Rio, with the precision of someone who knew exactly how to destroy someone for pleasure, didn’t waste the opportunity. Her mouth trailed along the exposed expanse of your neck with a hunger that made your skin burn, each kiss, lick, and bite leaving invisible marks that pulsed like a signature carved into your flesh.

She let out a low growl, satisfied, pressing her hips against yours. “Because you’re my good girl.”

Those damned words. Again.

They cut through you like a sharp blade, carving out space for something you could no longer contain.

You gasped in surprise, your body trembling under the corrosive intensity of that declaration. Because the unbearable truth was simple: yes, you wanted to be that. You wanted to be exactly what she said—and maybe something even worse.

Rio's hand trailed down your side with a light touch, almost as if testing the limits of your consent. You felt the fabric of your shirt slowly rise as her fingers advanced, each movement a calculated tease. And when her warm palm finally found the curve of your breast, your whole body shuddered in response.

The soft touch quickly became something bolder. Her fingers moved to your nipple, teasing it with slow, torturous circles that made you gasp. Your body stiffened, shocked by the intimate gesture.

"Rio, what—" Your voice came out weak, almost trembling, your mind desperately trying to regain some semblance of control.

But she only answered by pinching your nipple firmly, precisely, drawing a strangled sigh from your lips. Heat surged through your body in hot waves, pulsing intensely between your legs.

"You don’t want this, sweetheart?" she whispered in a low, husky voice, thick with a desire that seemed to consume her entirely. Her teeth grazed the delicate curve of your ear, sending another irresistible shiver down your spine.

Your skin felt electrified, every touch heightening your sensitivity. You tried to open your mouth to respond, but the words got lost in the haze of stimulation she inflicted on you without mercy.

Her lips traveled downward, leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses along the side of your neck, while her fingers continued to toy with your hardened nipple, sliding like soap between her fingers—pressing, pinching, teasing.

It was too much.

"You're squirming all over, sweetheart, and I wonder why." Rio mused, her voice like sweet poison dripping into your ears. "I hope it's not because you love this, is it?"

She turned her attention to your other breast, already taut from arousal. You heard her let out a small whimper with her mouth still against your neck. “Doing this with a married woman… That would be wrong, wouldn't it, little one?”

Her other hand guided you on top of her, making your ass press deliciously against her cunt. Rio moaned, pressing you down even harder.

And you were completely at her mercy, incapable of denying the intensity of the pleasure she pulled from you with meticulous touches, calculated to push you to the edge of desperation.

“I-I'm sorry,” you rasped, your voice thick with false regret.

You felt Rio’s smile against your neck, her warm lips sending shivers down your spine like an electric current. She let out a low, husky chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin and making your heart race.

Her hands continued to explore your body with a mix of devotion and possessiveness, as if each touch was an affirmation that you belonged to her—at least in that moment.

"Are you apologizing for being such a naughty girl?" Rio whispered, her voice dripping with pleasure and taunting amusement. Her teeth grazed your nape, and you trembled involuntarily on top of her, as if every nerve in your body was waking up to her touch.

"Say it... Say it, little girl," she ordered, but the firmness in her voice faltered as her hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer.

You felt the heat of her body against yours, the press of her breasts against your own, and the aching need between your legs became unbearable.

"S-sorry for being such a naughty girl," you murmured, your voice shaky as you started grinding slowly on her lap.

Rio groaned, her hands gripping your waist as if trying to keep control, but you could tell she was losing the battle against her own desire.

Her hips rolled against yours, and even through the fabric, you could feel her wetness, which only heightened your own arousal.

"Fuck," she growled, yanking your hair back with a force that made you gasp. The pain was sharp, but laced with a pleasure that made you dizzy.

Her lips crashed against yours in a messy, desperate kiss—full of teeth and hunger. It was wild, reckless, and you could barely think.

The kiss was rough at first, clumsy, as if both of you were so eager that you couldn't quite align. Your lips moved with a frantic urgency that made your heart pound, and you felt her teeth scrape against yours, a mix of pain and pleasure that made you even weaker.

When you tried to take control, running your tongue along her lips, Rio let out a low growl, surrendering completely.

Your tongues met in a frenzied rhythm, exploring, fighting, dancing. Hers was hot, insistent, and you tasted her—a mix of wine and vanilla ice cream.

She dominated you but let you take charge for brief moments, as if testing you, pushing you to go deeper. You felt her breath quicken, her muffled moans against your mouth, and it only made you want more.

"You're so fucking perfect," she murmured against your lips, her hands slipping inside your shorts, finding the growing wetness between your thighs. Both of you moaned at the same time, the sound echoing through the room as the sexual tension reached an unbearable peak.

Her hand was firm yet gentle, as if she knew exactly how to touch you to bring you to the edge. Her fingers explored you with precision, making your body tremble, your legs weak as if they could no longer hold you up.

Rio noticed and held you tighter, her lips now on your neck, nibbling and sucking, leaving marks you knew would last.

She let out a deep, satisfied chuckle, almost like a purr. Her fingers moved with deliberate pressure, finding the slick heat between your thighs. "Ah, my gem…" she whispered against your ear, nibbling your lobe with delicious cruelty. "This wet for me?"

The sound of her husky laughter made your stomach tighten, while your mind struggled to process the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

You whimpered in desperation, gasping under her touch, which left a trail of fire in its wake. "Please…" You didn’t know if you were begging her to stop or to keep going.

Rio didn’t stop. She barely gave you time to catch your breath before crashing her lips onto yours again, this time even hungrier.

She tasted hot and electric, like every brush of her lips sent a shockwave through your body. You felt completely strung tight, every cell in your body pulsating with a need you never imagined feeling.

Her hand, already firm against your throbbing heat, now moved with a clear intention, rubbing with a pressure that made you choke on your own breath. Your panties were soaked, and Rio knew it; she felt it, controlled it, fed off your vulnerability.

"That’s it, kitten… Be good. Be good for me," she murmured against your lips, her voice deep and languid as if intoxicated by the moment.

Her other hand slid under your shirt without hesitation, finding the soft skin of your breast. Skilled fingers teased your nipple with a sharp pinch, dragging a loud moan from you, almost a sob.

Your body arched involuntarily, seeking more of her, as if you couldn’t exist without her touch anymore. "Rio…" you whispered, your voice breaking between pleasure and confusion, trying to say something coherent but failing miserably.

She didn’t answer. Instead, her lips trailed down to the curve of your neck, leaving wet kisses and soft bites, each one burning like embers.

Her scent—a mix of desire and something intoxicating—filled your senses, making it impossible to think about anything else but this, right here, right now.

When her fingers slipped under the damp fabric of your panties, touching your bare, pulsing heat, you lost all control. You moaned loudly, not caring about anything anymore, the sound filling the space around you.

"That’s it, sweetheart… Let me hear you," Rio growled, her voice thick with lust.

Your hips instinctively moved, grinding against her touch, seeking more friction, more contact.

Her fingers now pressed firm, yet teasing, tracing slow, deliberate circles. Every movement was calculated, as if she knew exactly how to make you moan louder, tremble harder.

You were burning, completely surrendered, while pleasure built up inside you, consuming every inch of your body. "I—Please…" you whimpered between incoherent moans, not even sure what you were begging for—only that you needed her, all of her, and even more.

Rio seemed just as consumed as you. Her movements were desperate, as if she too was being devoured by the same fire that raged inside you. Her moans mixed with yours as she guided you deeper into an abyss of intoxicating pleasure.

Rio seemed to be in a trance, lost between low moans and incoherent murmurs. "You have no idea… how long… I've wanted this..." Her voice was hoarse, every word laced with a long-repressed desire, as if she wasn’t fully aware of what she was saying. "This was killing me."

Before you could even process those erratic confessions, her fingers finally slipped inside your panties, finding your swollen, throbbing clit. The direct touch made you gasp violently, your entire body tensing as unbearable heat radiated from your core.

"Rio…" You tried to speak, but the sound came out more like a fragmented moan, barely recognizable even to yourself.

She pressed her fingers more firmly, rubbing in slow circles, as if wanting to prolong the moment until you completely lost control. Both of your bodies trembled at the same time—she felt every pulse of yours, and it only seemed to fuel the insatiable hunger burning in her half-lidded eyes.

"You were waiting for this, weren’t you?" Rio murmured against your neck, nipping at the already sensitive skin as she continued her skilled movements.

You had touched yourself before, exploring your own pleasure, but this was different. That wild intensity, the absolute dominance Rio had over you, made every touch devastating. Your hips started moving on their own, chasing more of that maddening friction.

But then, amid the whirlwind of sensations, a distant part of your mind tried to resist, to remember something—someone.

"Agatha…" The name slipped past your lips before you could stop it, but it didn’t come out as a warning or a rational reminder. No, it sounded more like a needy moan, filled with longing and confusion.

Rio froze for a second, and you feared she might stop. But instead, something dark awakened in her. Her brown eyes gleamed with a dangerous intensity as she smiled wickedly, her lips wet and slightly parted.

"Oh, sweetheart…" Rio growled, her voice dripping with something even deeper. "You're still thinking about her, aren’t you? You wanted her to be here?" She bit your shoulder hard, making you cry out in pain. "—Huh?"

She pressed, her fingers now firmer, faster, as if punishing you for mentioning her wife’s name. "Do you want her to see you in my lap like the perfect little baby you are?"

Guilt rooted itself inside you like a choking weed, suffocating, inevitable. It didn’t come as a sudden weight, but as a persistent whisper, sliding through your mind, your veins, your skin.

What does that make you?

Agatha’s voice echoed, low, cutting, numbing. You tried to push it away, but the truth was you didn’t want to. Because along with the shame, along with the crushing weight of the disappointment you knew you had caused her, came something else. Something even more overwhelming.

Need.

It burned in your core, throbbing and relentless. The need to see her. To apologize. To hear her voice telling you that everything was okay, that you were still good enough. That you were still theirs.

Rio knew. She always knew.

You tried to respond, but the words were lost amid the moans spilling from your mouth. Rio didn’t stop, her fingers now moving at an unrelenting pace, while her other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place.

Her fingers slid inside you, deep and firm, while her thumb continued stimulating your clit. The combination was almost too much, and you felt your legs tremble, your body writhing under her touch.

"It feels so tight in here, bunny," she groaned, voice strained as if she were holding back.

"Agatha…" The name escaped again, but this time it was a long, drawn-out moan, filled with desire and need.

Rio laughed, a low, husky sound, as she picked up the pace, her fingers moving in fast, insistent strokes.

"That’s it, moan her name," she ordered, her voice dripping with pleasure and possessiveness. "But know that it’s me making you feel this. Me pushing you over the edge."

And you were right there, every movement, every touch, every word dragging you closer to the breaking point. Rio knew it, and she used it to her advantage, her fingers and words pulling you into a state of bliss you could barely endure.

Rio leaned in, her breasts pressing against yours, and you inhaled her scent—woody, intense, just like Agatha’s. It was deliberate. Everything was deliberate.

"You think you can satisfy us both?" She whispered, her lips almost brushing yours. "Think you can handle it?"

Before you could answer, she increased the rhythm again, her fingers moving in precise, rapid circles, while her other hand wrapped around your throat, fingers pressing lightly against your pulse.

"We're not letting you out of this. Fuck. You're not getting out of this," she growled as you felt her grind her hips against your ass. "You’re ours. Mine. Hers. Got it?"

You didn’t get it. You couldn’t understand. Your body arched, muscles tense like violin strings about to snap.

"Agatha... Rio... Please—" You didn’t even know what you were begging for, but they knew.

"I’m right here," Rio moaned, her own hips moving against your leg, revealing that she was just as close. "I want to hear you scream our names when you come."

Her voice cracked, her mask of control fracturing for just a moment, and you realized how much she needed this—needed you, Agatha’s complicity, the corruption the three of you were weaving together.

And then you fell.

The orgasm ripped through your body like wildfire, violent and uncontrollable, your screams swallowed by Rio’s devouring kiss. She drank in every sound, every tremor, as if she wanted to steal even your breath. But you felt something else—her fingers trembling, her body shaking against yours.

Your limbs felt heavy, as if submerged in a thick, unknown ocean. Your breathing was short, uneven, and a strange exhaustion weighed on your chest—not just fatigue, but something deeper, something that made your body feel fragile and vulnerable in a way you couldn’t explain.

Rio noticed. Of course, she did.

She didn’t say anything immediately. She just slid her hands over your back in a slow, lazy caress, as if trying to soothe every fiber of your being. Her fingers traced slow circles over your skin, moving down to the curve of your waist and back up again, the touch warm and grounding.

"You were so good for me," Rio murmured, her voice low and satisfied. The tip of her nose brushed against your temple, and she pressed a soft kiss there. "But now you're exhausted, aren’t you, little girl?"

You tried to deny it, to open your mouth and respond, but all that came out was a trembling sigh, a small sound you barely recognized as your own.

Rio smiled. A slow, knowing smile, but there was something in her eyes—something different. A quiet pride mixed with… tenderness?

Before you could process anything, she was already moving. With almost irritating ease, Rio pulled you against her chest, adjusting your body effortlessly, as if taking care of you like this was second nature.

"Shh," she murmured, her fingers now gliding through your hair, untangling the strands with patience. "You don’t have to worry about anything right now. Just let go."

You wanted to protest, to say you were fine, but the truth was, the weight of exhaustion wrapped around you like a thick blanket, making your mind slow, your thoughts scattered.

Rio’s voice blended into your thoughts, as if she were somehow inside your head, whispering pretty words you didn’t even know the meaning of.

Her touch was a sedative. The warmth of her body, the safety of her arms, the lazy kisses she pressed to your forehead and cheek. Everything was an invitation to surrender.

Rio sighed against your hair, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down your spine. "Are you always this small, or do you only seem like it when you’re like this… giving yourself to me?"

You felt her laughter vibrate against you, as if she were amused at your expense, but there was something more. Something deeper, heavier.

Then you realized you were on top of her, part of your face buried in her breasts, while your arms held her tightly—like you were afraid she’d leave you.

That she’d abandon you.

“My perfect girl,” Rio repeated, silencing your thoughts with a warm kiss on your forehead. Her voice was lower this time, as if she were speaking to herself. “Don’t overthink.”

Sleep came before you could answer.

And Rio stayed there, holding you firmly, her hand lazily sliding over your back, her touch constant—persistent. As if making sure that every part of you still belonged to her.

[...]

You woke up with your body heavy, exhausted in a way you had never felt before. As if every part of you was drained, emptied. Your mind was hazy, your limbs lethargic. Your first instinct was to curl further into the sheets, to seek the warmth that had surrounded you before, but the space beside you was empty.

The scent was the first thing you noticed.

Dense, warm, familiar.

This wasn’t your room.

The mattress beneath you was softer, the sheets carried an intoxicating fragrance—something sophisticated and slightly sweet—a blend of amber, incense, and something that reminded you of leather. A scent that seeped into your mind, making you even dizzier.

Their room.

You woke up in their bed.

The shock washed over you slowly, like a tide rising. The space around you was larger than your own bedroom. A shiver ran through your body as you remembered what you had seen—how they loved each other wildly, the kisses exchanged, the looks filled with years of intimacy. It was like watching a forbidden film, something you were never meant to see, but now it was burned into your mind, impossible to erase.

And then, you remembered.

You and Rio, in the living room.

Rio touching you as if you belonged to her, as if you were an extension of her, something she could mold and control at will.

Your body still carried the echo of her touch, as if her fingers had left invisible marks on your skin. You turned in bed, feeling the weight of the sheet over you, and tried to organize your thoughts. But they were tangled, mixed with the scent of the room, with the memories that wouldn’t stop resurfacing, with the feeling that you had crossed a line from which there was no return.

You forced yourself up, feeling your muscles contract from the extreme fatigue. With light steps, you left the room, glancing around as the hallway light hit your eyes, making you blink against the discomfort.

Descending the stairs, you noticed how empty the mansion felt. What time was it, anyway? Had you really slept that long? You heard two familiar voices and approached with almost fearful steps.

“She thinks she can speak however she wants now?” Agatha’s voice was sharp, carrying a silent venom, as if she were still savoring the audacity you had shown earlier. “Seems like we’re being too generous.”

“You should’ve seen her, love,” Rio said, amused, her tone dripping with lazy pride. “She was so fragile afterward. So receptive. I think our little girl learned her lesson.”

Agatha’s silence was brief but noticeable.

“I tamed our little wild thing,” Rio continued, and you could almost see her bright smile, confident, basking in her victory. “Now you need to calm down too, huh?”

Agatha scoffed. “I am calm.”

“Oh, sure you are,” Rio teased, a playful lilt in her voice, as if she could see right through the other woman.

You closed your eyes, your face burning with shame.

They were talking about you. About what they had done to you.

Your chest rose and fell with a trembling breath. You should go in there, you should say something. But you stayed put.

“Oh. I can’t believe you’re going to be the mean mommy.”

The word lodged itself into your mind like a shard of glass.

Mommy.

Rio said it so casually, as if she hadn’t just turned your reality upside down. The silence that followed was so thick you could almost feel it pressing against your chest.

And then, Agatha responded—but her voice was lower this time, drawn out.

“Don’t start with that.”

Rio just laughed.

And you left the hallway almost stumbling over your own feet, the air caught in your lungs like you were suffocating. Their scent still clung to your skin, to your clothes, and Rio’s words echoed in your mind—the mean mommy.

What was that supposed to mean?

The kitchen was a silent refuge, a space where you could pretend, at least for a few minutes, that you had control over something. You grabbed a knife without thinking too much, your fingers tightening around the handle as you started cutting ingredients with quick, precise movements.

Cooking had always calmed you. A mechanical, logical process. Something you could control.

And you needed to feel in control.

But the illusion didn’t last long.

Soft footsteps echoed across the wooden floor, and soon, voices followed behind you.

“Hmm,” Rio murmured with an audible smile, holding Lucky in her arms, the cat completely unaware of the tension. “The little kitchen rat strikes again.”

You didn’t look at them, keeping your focus on what you were doing. But then came the dragged sound of a chair being pulled. And Agatha’s voice, low and slightly irritated.

“Put the knife in the sink.”

The command was firm, dry.

Your jaw tightened.

“I’m not a child,” you muttered, cutting the vegetables with more force than necessary. “I lived alone for years. I know how to cook, I know how to take care of myself.”

“Do you?” Agatha taunted. “Because what I see is a stubborn little girl playing with sharp objects.”

You turned abruptly to face her, the knife still in your hand, your eyes blazing.

“Why do you always do this?” Your voice trembled with frustration. “Treat me like I’m… small?”

Agatha didn’t answer immediately. She just observed you, her blue eyes analyzing every detail of your face, as if trying to decipher something even you didn’t understand. Then, she laughed. A low, humorless sound.

“Because you are small.”

The words burned your skin like a sting. Your fists clenched, anger mixing with something you couldn’t name.

“And little girls who disrespect their guardians need to be punished.”

That was the breaking point.

You lunged at Agatha, tears of fury spilling from your eyes.

"You are not my mother!" You lunged at her, pounding your fists against the woman's shoulders, sobbing uncontrollably.

Your fists hit her shoulders, weak and desperate, your whole body trembling. The tears fell uncontrollably, and you sobbed between the blows.

Agatha grabbed your wrists, firm but not hurting you. You tried to break free, tried to fight against her, but the weight of exhaustion and overstimulation made you crumble.

Your knees buckled.

And then you clung to her.

Your hands found the hem of her expensive linen shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tightly it wrinkled. You sobbed against her, your face pressed into her chest, the words slipping out between broken cries.

“You’re not her…” Your voice was weak, shattered.

Your arms wrapped around Agatha’s neck, your body seeking hers with a need you couldn’t understand. You held onto her tightly, almost desperately, your fingers clutching her blouse like she was the only solid thing in your unstable world.

You trembled.

The weakness that was once physical had now become emotional and mental.

Agatha froze for a moment. You felt it. As if even she hadn’t expected this.

But then, her hands found your body—firm and certain, holding you back.

And in that moment, in that safe and dominant warmth, the word slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

“…Mommy.”

It was a whisper. A thread of a voice so small that, for a moment, you weren’t sure if you had actually said it out loud.

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with a tension that felt almost tangible. You felt Agatha’s body tense, as if she were processing that word, that involuntary confession.

And then, slowly, her hands began to move. One slid up to your nape, fingers weaving into your hair, while the other trailed down to your back, pressing you even closer. The scent of white jasmine, so characteristic of her, wrapped around you, comforting you.

“Shh,” you felt Rio approach slowly, drawing large circles on your back. “Breathe for us, sweetheart.”

Rio’s voice was soft, almost melodic, as if she were trying to hypnotize you. You tried to obey, dragging in air with difficulty, feeling your chest burn with each inhale. But their hands were there, firm and steady, guiding you, keeping you anchored.

“That’s it,” Agatha murmured, her lips nearly brushing your ear. “Nice and slow. You’re safe now.”

You wanted to believe her. Wanted, more than anything, to believe that this was real, that you could surrender completely and that they would be there to catch you. But a part of you still resisted, still clung to that illusion of control.

“I… I don’t know…” you stammered, the words spilling out in fragments, as if your mind couldn’t form complete sentences.

“You don’t have to know, love,” Rio replied, her voice so close that you could feel the warmth of her breath against your nape. “You just have to trust.”

And then, without warning, you felt your feet leave the ground. Agatha lifted you with an ease that seemed almost supernatural, her strong arms cradling you as if you weighed nothing. Rio was beside you, one hand supporting your back, as the two carried you toward their bedroom.

You didn’t fight. You had no strength to. Instead, you let yourself be taken, your body limp and exhausted, your mind clouded by a haze of emotions you couldn’t name.

Their bedroom was a sanctuary of luxury and comfort, with a massive, plush bed at its center, covered in silk sheets that gleamed under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Agatha placed you in the middle of the bed with care, as if you were something precious and fragile, while Rio pulled the blankets up to cover you.

“Here,” Rio murmured, sitting beside you and threading her fingers through your hair. “You’re exhausted, little one. Rest.”

You tried to respond, but the words came out as a meaningless murmur, as if your mind was too overloaded to form coherent thoughts.

“Shh,” Agatha whispered, settling on the other side of the bed and placing a hand on your face. “Don’t speak, darling.”

And you relaxed. Not because you wanted to, but because you had no choice. Her body was warm and solid beside you, and her touch was firm yet gentle, as if she knew exactly what you needed.

“We’ve got you, sweetheart.” Rio continued, her voice low but carrying an authority that left no room for question. “Let go.”

You felt the tears burning behind your eyelids, but this time, you didn’t try to hold them back. They fell freely, dampening the silk pillow as you clung to them like they were the only thing keeping you upright.

And deep down, you knew that maybe they were.

Rio lay down beside you, her arms sliding around your body in an embrace that was both comforting and oppressive. Her warmth pressed against you, her slow and steady breaths ghosting over your skin.

Her scent—cinnamon and sandalwood—mixed with Agatha’s jasmine, creating a dense and enveloping haze. You felt small between them. Small, exhausted… and, for the first time, safe.

Gradually, your sobs subsided, replaced by ragged breaths. Your body still trembled, but the weight of exhaustion was beginning to pull you into an irresistible lull.

Above you, Agatha took a deep breath, as if about to say something, but hesitated.

The silence stretched, and then…

“M-mommy will… will take care of everything.”

Her voice was hesitant, almost strained. As if the words had been ripped from a place deep inside her, a place she didn’t want to admit existed.

But there it was.

The arms around you tightened just a little more.

The scent, the warmth, the feeling of belonging to something, even just for a moment…

It was the last thing you felt before succumbing to sleep.

~*~

Where's your place?

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01

@aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06

@absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k @greyella @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose

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casualhedonists · 1 year ago

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“slut!” ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

pairing: academy!coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: nsfw (18+), sub! and possibly virgin!coryo, handjobs, edging/orgasm denial, degradation, name calling (reader calls coryo a slut) very mild dacryphilia, also v mild corruption kink, overstimulation, also reader gets coryo to taste his own cum idk what else to call it <3

a/n: thought abt calling coryo a slut and this happened <3 i have nothing else to say for myself

“Slut.”

The word slipped from your lips, smooth like honey.

“What?” His eyes darted to yours. Your hand, nestled in his pants, slowed its movements, and his lips parted in a plea.

“You heard me, Coryo. I said you’re a slut.”

You didn’t miss the ragged breath of air that he exhaled, or the twitch of his cock as you stilled your hand entirely. He whimpered, red faced in shame.

Poor thing. Poor, desperate Coriolanus Snow.

“Who’d have thought? The academy’s brightest star, the golden pupil, putting out on the first date.”

His eyes squeezed closed. You hummed.

“What did we say about that? Eyes on me.”

He obliged.

“This is a date?” He breathed after a beat, brain playing catchup.

“It’s whatever you want it to be, handsome.”

Your hand moved faster as you saw him get more comfortable with the pace; you couldn’t be having that. Not when he’d started to pick up a very vexing little habit of deliberately contradicting any point you made in rhetoric class, glancing over at you with a self-congratulatory grin that had you aching to make him cry.

You'd asked him over to study, which he'd almost fallen for. Led him to your couch, made him believe you'd let him take whatever he wanted, then flipped the tables.

“That feel good? Is it too much?”

“Mm.” Was all you got out of him as you picked the pace up, thumb pushing over the tip.

“So wet for me, Coryo. Like a fucking girl.”

“Don’t-"

“Oh? So you want me to stop? Okay.”

Your hand stilled again, moving your hand as if to take it out of his pants.

“No. What? Don’t… don’t stop. Keep going.”

“You know, nobody’s gonna believe you’re as well-bred as you claim you are with manners like those.”

You'd overheard Highbottom's taunts once. Kept it to yourself, but made the occasional low blow of your own when he pissed you off. His eyes shone in an angry defiance. You stood your ground.

“Please.” He looked at the floor.

“Please what?”

“Please, keep going.”

You smiled.

“Good boy.”

When you spoke the words, he visibly relaxed, but a frown etched across his face when you wrapped your hand back around his cock, but didn’t move it. He looked down, then back at you.

“What?” You blinked innocently.

“You’re not… please. Don’t be fucking mean.” He repeated pathetically.

“I don’t know, Coryo. My hand’s getting a little tired.”

“Because you’ve been edging me for half an hour.” He gritted. You laughed, cruel.

“So dramatic. If you’re gonna be ungrateful like that, then fine. I won’t move a muscle.”

He sighed, ragged and heavy. He didn’t move.

“Don’t tell me you’re shy now. All I’m asking for is a little bit of effort. Fuck my hand, Coryo. You can do that, can’t you?”

His blue eyes bored into yours, but you weren’t falling for his tricks. Your free hand gently turned his chin to you, and you moved in, soft kisses peppering his jaw.

You squeezed the base of his cock a little, enough to make him pull in a sharp breath.

“Move.” you commanded, voice no louder than a whisper, but harsh.

He obliged. Slowly, at first, shame all too clear on his face, but he noticed the look on your face when you glanced down to see his hips rocking up, fucking into your fist under his pants, and lost himself a little more.

He saw the way your legs pressed together sat next to him, hips shifting uncomfortably as he found a rhythm, and lifted his hand to touch your thigh. You batted it away.

“No touching.” you scolded.

“But…” he trailed off, eyes longing.

How cute.

“No buts, either. Are you close?”

He nodded. Shame slowly starting to melt away.

“Good. You can move faster, Coryo. Can you make yourself cum like this?”

He moved faster, and let out a half-laugh, more like a strung-out sigh. As if to say, are you kidding?

“Does that feel good? Use your words, baby.”

You felt him twitch again, wet sounds filling the room as he moved, a cruel satisfaction filling your head.

“Yeah. It feels... fuck.”

“Look at you,” You mused, “Fucking my hand like a desperate slut. You’re this close and I’m not even doing anything.”

This time, when you said the word, he whined. He sounded delirious, and you soaked it up, basked in it. Hungry for more.

He was getting desperate now, needy and careless. Rutting into your hand like a fucking virgin.

You wondered if he was, and it made your torturing him all the sweeter. You let your mind wander, thinking about all the things you could introduce him to. So perfect, so clean cut. You wanted him frayed at the edges, torn at the seams, coming undone for you.

He got loud, whimpers building into cries as you started to move your hand again, tight and mean, brushing over the tip carelessly rough, desperate to see him fall apart. His words were broken and ragged.

“That’s… shit. I think I - can I? Please. I’m-”

He cut himself off, mouth falling open, eyes slipping shut in bliss. You could feel how close he was, hard and heavy in your hand. When his hips gave in, stuttering and tired, you sped up your motions, eyes never leaving his pretty face as he started to crack.

“Cum for me, Coryo. You’ve earned it.”

When he fell, he fell to pieces. You memorised each broken sound he made, every whine and gasp, knowing they’d be replaying in your head for a very long time to come. He came hot and sticky into your palm, and you kept your hand moving until he was trembling from it, until he winced.

You looked back at his face, eyes still shut, and a single tear had slid down his cheek. You pressed a gentle kiss to his open lips, and another to his cheek, tongue dipping out reflexively to trace the tear stain, salty in your mouth but sweet like satisfaction.

He was still catching his breath, and you shifted your hand out of his pants, smirking to yourself as he hissed a little.

You lifted it to his face, your clean hand holding his chin, and the other one bringing two dripping fingers to his perfect, parted lips.

“Now suck.”

a/n: idk WHO to tag since this is my first coryo fic i’ve posted since attention?? and my tag list is just for attention rn? think i need to do a few separate ones, we’ll figure something out. as always feedback keeps my world spinning around. ily 🤍🤍

#also ps this fic combines my two very first inner thoughts when i first watched tbosas: i want to top him and. i want to lick him #emphasis on wanting to lick him #tbosas #tom blyth #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #snow x reader #x you smut #the hunger games x reader #x reader #president snow x reader #president snow x you #the hunger games #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x reader #president snow

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cipheramnesia · 1 year ago

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This is the process my brain goes through every time I see anything about Netflix Avatar The Last Airbender.

My first reaction is always: Why? The original, although not without flaws, doesn't leave a lot of room to improve. A good remake or adaptation usually involves an updated context or change in perspective that adds to the original work and gives it new meaning. It's a risky undertaking because it usually involves wanting to take on something established as iconic and make it your own. But Netflix is a corporation and seems very risk averse for the most part. Its only investment is in the name recognition of AtLA. It's hard to visualize Netflix deliberately taking a big risk on an expensive show.

My second reaction is: How? The original series is about 1400 minutes over 61 episodes, and it still had to rush the ending. We're looking at 8 episodes of roughly 45-60 minutes per episode for season 1, which would require Netflix to let it run more than 3 seasons, if the series has similar pacing. Historically however Netflix shows have glacial pacing, and rarely make three seasons. Not really sure how they plan to tell the story if the series is anything like the average Netflix series, meaning it either needs to undercut the story or let the series breathe for at least five seasons. But nothing Netflix has done makes me want to watch anything they make as an ongoing series? Why bother, they cancel everything I enjoy. So I wonder how. What's the hook to say "this will be able to provide something new and interesting compared to the original, and will be allowed to tell the complete story."

Which leads me to think, but you can't judge if something is good without seeing it. Except none of this is about whether it's good, I just find myself wondering what are the odds it's worth the effort? They're low, and it has nothing to do with whether or not it's even any good on its own merits.

Following this, I ask myself, what would a good version of this be. Imagine you are making a live action series with eight hour long episodes per season based on a children's cartoon with 20 thirty minute episodes per season. You are trying to encompass a story which was presented over three seasons as a cartoon, and you do not know if you will have more than those eight episodes. It's made for Netflix which, in terms of a company which will protect the hard earned fruits of your artistic labor, is the fox guarding the henhouse. What do you do?

If you are looking to make something good, that respects your audience investment and your own work, you make radical changes to the story. You change the pacing, the character arcs, the plot arcs. You make sure you deliver a complete story in those episodes with as much respect for the original work and as many new ideas as you can.

Except, at that point, what is even the point of a remake. The only way to work with it is either to trust Netflix allowing you to finish the story (which you'd need to be incredibly naive to do), or tell a story so different it may as well be wholly original. And that's where I always end up. Like, it'll probably be fine, but what's the point of it all? Another vanishing digital property to get canceled because of some undefinable failure to return on investment.

I think about it a lot because the two ends of the spectrum seem to be "dunk on every new piece of information" or "wait and see" but the only conclusion I can ever reach is "why even care?" That's been the lesson to take home from digital streaming in general when it comes to series, but Netflix in particular, and honestly for movie series too. If it can't be self contained, the companies who produce and release these kinds of series just cannot be trusted with it, and there are too many good original stories being put out to care anymore about big budget promises that one day they will definitely for sure deliver a finished story, this time for real.

I care enough to think about why I don't feel anything at all about Netflix Avatar. It'll be fine, whatever else. Just fine.

#netflix avatar

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misterbenzadrine · 10 days ago

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binary bfs caltech core

when pt 3 dropped, i made these cute little visualizers for myself but i never actually posted it bc they're really low-effort but i hope they're still appreciated !!

eli 'hawk' moskowitz

he still goes by hawk

very much still a mix of wild party guy and total nerd

he goes to most of the events on campus and absolutely soaks in the college experience as much as he can

his friends tease him for being so out there and social while still having a really low social battery but he doesn't tell anyone it's bc he never thought he'd be able to be that kind of guy who had a lot of friends and could confidently participate in everything so he's taking advantage of what he didn't think was possible

his room is SO messy (not dirty, just really sloppy)

sometimes he'll facetime miguel and/or sam, catching up and playing roblox or (at its height) among us (also with tory and robby)

demetri alexopoulos

spends most of his time at the library, his dorm, or the science building/lab

a lot of people actually find him really interesting/fun and some even flirt with him but he's really oblivious, like you could drop as many hints as you want that you wanna hang out with him more and he'll be like "oh that does sound fun ! let me know how that goes :)"

he's still very much a yapper so he does talk to a lot of people on a daily basis (his professors, the dining hall workers, the janitors, student activities members, his classmates, robotics peers, lgbt club members, sword fighting society members, role-play club members, stem society members, etc.)

but again, he doesn't actually think anyone LIKES him. he doesn't necessarily have a defeatist low self-esteem anymore, he doesn't think he's worthless, he just doesn't see himself as the type of person to actually attract permanent company

he keeps his room really neat and always really comfortable (his friends often joke they could stay in there forever if he'd let them)

he always texts sam and yas and allows his other hs friends to have a bit of breathing room as long as they keep contact so he knows they're alive and still care about him

most of demetri's social energy is spent on hawk bc hawk is the only/main person that knows he needs to be blunt about his intentions to hang out instead of beating around the bush

hawk more often than not has to drag him out of one of his usual corners to relax and have fun on campus (which he knows demetri appreciates)

despite how it sounds, they actually have really fun times at the parties together playing beer pong, doing chugging games, and doing low-budget obstacle courses (they are a force to be reckoned with and have a very high reputation on campus)

hawk totally doesn't feel his heart melt when demetri unintentionally shrugs off people flirting with him or asking him to hang out somewhere to put all his focus on hawk and ask him what they're doing

it does slightly frustrate him when demetri is so clueless about it though ("so a lot of people seem to really like you." "do they? i think they're just being nice." "that girl invited you back to her dorm. you know you don't have to have lunch with me, if you wanna take her offer." "we were just talking about star wars and she wanted to show me her clone wars posters. it's not that exciting." "dude she obviously didn't care just about the posters." "i think you're reading too much into it." "and you're clearly not reading enough into it.")

demetri knows and accepts how much it means to him when hawk turns down party invitations to hunker down with demetri for a movie night in their dorm or working in the robotics lab late into the night

hawk sometimes worries demetri has leftover resentment that he dragged him away from mit to stay in california and demetri rolls his eyes and repeats every time "hey, i chose to apply here. you didn't force me to do anything. stop feeling guilty for something you didn't do. now do you wanna get take out or head to the dining hall?"

on the same note, demetri sometimes worries that hawk doesn't want to do "nerd stuff" with him but hawk, as if he has a sixth sense for this insecurity, always swoops in at the perfect time to ask demetri if he wants to do exactly the kind of nerd shit he was insecure about, soothing his worries since hawk is the one to bring it up (this nerd shit can include trivia nights, dnd campaigns, heading to the local comic book store, working in the robotics lab, etc.)

whether it's late night study sessions or midnight drinking contests, the binary bros stay permanently glued to each other's sides and while demetri is scared of hawk growing tired of their mild codependence, hawk works diligently to show him exactly how much he loves being a duo with him

my boys, i miss them so bad

the fact that they'd have been class of 2024 :( MY SHAYLAS

also i can't remember who it was but someone commented a long time ago on one of my tt edits about them quarantining together and tbh that sounds like so much fun, i may put that together later :3

#hawk pulling up to an impromptu mario kart hangout and his friends all raising an eyebrow like “where's the rest of ya?”#cobra kai #demetri alexopoulos #hawk moskowitz #eli moskowitz #binary brothers #elimetri #hawkmetri #binary boyfriends

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kafus · 1 year ago

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over the weekend at the knoxville regional pokemon championships, i met up with a longtime internet friend in person for the first time, and he traded me a very special pokemon - a unique celebi that takes a bit of context to explain the significance of

from november 2001 to january 2005, the building that is now a nintendo world store in new york city was actually an american pokemon center, which hosted the "Gotta Catch ‘Em All!" station, a large machine that you could pop your gold/silver/crystal cartridge into (or later ruby/sapphire/firered/leafgreen, but that's not relevant here) and get a special distribution pokemon unique to the store. often times these were normal pokemon in eggs with special moves they couldn't usually learn, but other times they ran distributions for shiny legendaries, and of course, the mythical celebi.

there's very few pictures of the machine and all of them are pretty low quality, but you can see an iteration of it here during the gen 3 era:

when PCNY (pokemon center new york) shut down, the machine and its contents were presumed lost forever, but due to the preservation efforts and the good luck of a few individuals, some of the distributions have been preserved, as well as parts of the machine and its software. this is extra incredible because almost all gen 2 save files from the time the machine was actually functional are long since wiped due to the battery inside dying, meaning that very very few of the gen 2 event pokemon distributed from this machine at the time still exist. i won't go super in detail on that in this post but you can read an article about all of that here (julie, the person who runs this historical PCNY fansite is incredibly passionate and if you want to know anything about the PCNY store i absolutely recommend reading her writing!)

so, one day when i was rambling to my friend (his name is Venty!) about my fascination with the PCNY machine, and how i wish i had been born early enough to experience that, as well as wishing that i could have traded with anyone in gens 1-3 as a child but never got to due to isolation, venty told me that he's actually friends with a guy (Professor Rex) who knows the guy who owns the remnants of the PCNY machine (Gridelin), and he would love to reach out and ask if there's any way rex could distribute a celebi to himself and trade it to him sometime so that eventually when me and venty met in person one day, he'd be able to trade the celebi to me.

i pretty much burst into tears and very passionately explained how much that would mean to me - not just because owning a celebi actually distributed from the historical PCNY distribution station is just... insanely cool, but because like i said, i had never traded anyone in the old internet-less generations of pokemon, and having that be my first was just... a monumental thought. i am deeply fascinated with old gen event distributions because of the tactile, interpersonal nature of them, in direct contrast with my isolation and loneliness as a child. it might sound silly to be so worked up over a collection of bytes/pixels, but i really couldn't believe venty would offer me something so kind. and not only did he offer to ask - rex said yes!!

so on may 21st last year (2023) rex traveled out and distributed the celebi to his pokemon silver cartridge. specifically, the celebi is from the "Celebi Present Campaign" which ran from the 22nd of november 2002 to the 28th of november 2002. the display on the monitor is the same video that would have appeared on the screen in the PCNY store, but flipped sideways here haha. (the gen 2 distributions were special and had custom animations for the legendaries and stuff, which you can watch here in full quality on gridelin's channel - there's videos of the other distribution animations on his channel, too!)

and then months later, during the weekend of august 11th 2023, rex and venty met up at the pokemon world championship in japan and rex traded the celebi to venty's gold cartridge...

...then, finally, just this past weekend, on sunday (february 4th 2024) venty and i finally met in real life for the first time at the knoxville TN regional pokemon championships, and with link cable in hand the celebi finally made its way to me in my hotel room, after crossing the ocean twice and passing through canada to the US to japan and back to the US...!!

gen 2 pokemon data isn't very complicated, but you can tell that my celebi is unique from the other PCNY celebis dumped online (here and here if you'd like to play with some of these historical pokemon yourself) because it has the trainer ID of 00204 which none of the publicly available celebis have - though of course to me, regardless of what becomes publicly available in the future (and i hope one day the common layperson can simply emulate the PCNY machine, video game preservation >>> unique collections always) this celebi will always be special and unique because of how it got to me, and because it represents my friendship with venty who i care so much about. it was an extremely kind gesture i will never forget and i can't believe how much traveling and how many people were involved with getting this tiny bundle of bytes and pixels to me. i hugged venty after the trade was done haha

oh, and by the way, don't worry, i have the hardware to back up my gen 2 save files so this celebi will never die even after my crystal cartridge battery eventually dies once more!! (also, while i don't think it would be an issue i do want to say please don't bother any of the people mentioned in this post...! gridelin & co are working on making the distribution machine in question available for anyone to use, it'll come out whenever it's out and for now there are dumps of the events that were recovered. i would not want them to receive any annoying requests for pokemon because of me. thank you!)

#pokemon #pokemon crystal #gsc #pokemon gsc #celebi #mystery gift #ayano was here #ayano.txt #long post

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okkalo · 1 year ago

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the prideful mission

karasu x reader

genre(s): fluff

warning(s): reader is implied to be shorter

forgot i had this in my drafts,, enjoy <3

“ya don’t need it, y/n.” karasu interrupts your staring at the claw machine in front of you with his unwelcome words. you turn around and give him your best puppy dog eyes. he only gives a deadpan back. “ya already have so many stuffed animals.”

“these are different though,” you still had to keep up the pout, your voice in a pleading mumble. you knew you were getting to him, despite the not-so-promising look on his face. you just had to keep going to get him to cave and win a plushie for you. “i mean, come on! look at this one, tabito! isn’t that one so cute!” you turned around to point at a particular one that caught your eye like an excited child, and god he hated his pride for wanting to win that for you.

he sighed, “i’m not even sure if i have change.” he did, you knew he did. he made it a habit to always carry change because of your claw machine addiction—or better said, your addiction to seeing him play the claw machine for you.

you couldn’t bite back a smile that spread on your lips at the sight of him pulling out his wallet. he searched in it before pulling out a dollar, looking up to you with a raised brow. “yer lucky,” he stated, to which you giggled to before placing a small peck on his cheek.

“always am with you.” he couldn’t help the small grin that appeared on his face at your words; you knew exactly how to inflate his ego. he stepped forward sliding the dollar into the machine before taking a deep breath (a sign he was getting into ‘his zone’) and moving the stick to the plushie you had earlier pointed out. he adjusted the claw a few more times before pressing the button and sending it down. it seemed he was confident he had gotten it in one go as he turned around to you with a big smirk plastered on his face.

“do i get a kiss for winning you this?” he asked, his smugness radiating off of him. behind him you could see the claw machine pick up the plush, taking it to the top before the claw loosely wiggled and dropped the plush back to the pile. a wide grin made its way on your lips at the situation, a small giggle escaping you as well.

“once you win it, sure, baby.” at your words he immediately furrowed his brows in confusion, his smirk dropping as he turned to see his effort proving fruitless. you could see his ego visibly leave him; his shoulders deflating as his brows furrowed further.

“i swear i had it,” he mumbled, pulling out his wallet once again before taking out another dollar and sliding it into the machine. he aligned the claw once again before dropping it, this time he kept his eyes focused on the claw dropping to the plushie. in other words, he witnessed the loose claw wiggling the plushie from its grasp.

you would’ve laughed again had you not known this was the start of an endless struggle. it seemed he had plenty of money because he kept pulling more out after another round of losing. about eight more rounds had passed and you couldn’t help but start to feel bad. you hadn’t wanted the plushie that bad in the first place, you more liked seeing him try hard for you.

just as he was about to pull out the eleventh dollar that night, you put a hand on his shoulder, diverting his attention to you. “it’s okay, tabito, i don’t need it. you can stop, baby.” your hand rubbed up and down, trying to make him feel better since you knew his ego was at an all-time low at the moment.

karasu didn’t seem pleased by your words, that much showed when he scoffed and turned his attention back to the machine. “yer just sayin’ that.” you couldn’t help but smile at his determination, watching as he moved his face closer to the glass to get a better view of his target. he moved the control stick very meticulously, his eyes now focused on the wobbly claw as he took his hand off the stick. a deep breath escaped him as the claw stopped wobbling, his eyes falling to the button as he pressed the button with a mutter—a prayer, most likely.

thankfully, the claw grabbed onto the wanted plushy and held it tight to the prize hole. knowing he had struggled (mentally, emotionally, and psychically) for it, you immediately show your excitement to let him know his efforts were not in vain. you tugged at his arm with a small squeal, not missing the way his lips tugged into a smirk as you pulled him down to your level. “you treat me so well, tabito, thank you,” you smiled as you cupped his face still in front of yours, now fully exposed to his proud expression.

“and my reward?” his blue eyes locked with yours, watching your own eyes roll at his question.

“you’re impatient.” despite your complaint, you still gave him what he wanted as you fluttered your eyes shut to kiss him. his lips stayed upturned, which would normally annoy you, but you didn’t seem to mind this time. you made sure to sprinkle his face with a few more kisses afterward, something to convince him that playing these claw machines for you was worth it.

“i’m not doing this again, just so ya know,” he claimed, watching you take the plush from the award slot. you knew he was all talk, however. seeing you hug the plush with a big smile coating your lips—he knew he was all talk as well.

unedited. thank you for reading!

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #blue lock karasu #bllk karasu #karasu tabito x reader #tabito karasu x reader #tabito karasu #karasu tabito

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quinloki · 10 days ago

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I would like to humbly request: overstimulation, and potentially whatever kink, that hasn’t been done yet, that’s very much a “Oh god you don’t even know” for the characters Crocodile and Mihawk please and thank u! (Can you tell yet I have some favourites in this fandom?)

Hmmm... It might be a bit of low-hanging fruit, but I think it suits both of them well, and is most certainly an Oh god you don't even know, even if it might not be something they consciously realize, so yeah.

I'll go with that ^_^

And I can hardly blame you, Crocodile and Mihawk are top notch blorbos indeed =3

Sir Crocodile:

Clothed Dom, Nude Sub - Oh god you don’t even know - I don't even know if he realizes how much he enjoys this, frankly. Rarely do his clothes manage to make it completely off. Sometimes you get all the shirts off and he's bare-chested, but the pants are barely out of the way.

Whatever state of dress he is, or isn't in, you're wearing far less. Almost always completely bare, and if not objectively nude, you're certainly functionally nude. It's not even a matter of things moved aside, they're either designed to give access in the first place, or all that remains are tattered bits because he's torn the offending material away.

His absolute favorite is having you stripped bare and cumming on his hand (or hey, maybe some golden attachment in place of his hook) while he's not even so much as loosened his tie.

Overstimulation - Oh god you don’t even know - Forced orgasms, edging, post-orgasm torture, sensory deprivation, sensory play, etc. There's a hundred ways he can overstimulate you, and he's interested in all of them. Some of the singular pieces and parts (like tickling) might not rank high on their own, but mixed in with others he's not against using whatever means he desires.

It's not just that you come apart for him - whether you're allowing it, or he's forcing it - but it's that you still try so hard to please him. You struggle and do you best to answer his questions, to move as he pleases, to give him one more orgasm even as you're laying in a puddle of your own pleasure, sweat and tears. Whatever your motivations, the effort -- the struggle -- is what gets him to loosen that tie.

Dracule Mihawk:

Clothed Dom, Nude Sub - Oh god you don’t even know - Unlike Crocodile, Mihawk knows this is what he likes. It's a power move, honestly. Your vulnerability (or his, I can see him as a nude sub in Crocodile's lap, personally, I've actually drawn it XD ) and his lack of it has an elegance to it.

Especially as you sit on your knees, trained so perfectly to be the sub he wants. One hand on your cheek is all you need, nuzzling into the palm softly before rising to your feet. You'd let him walk you right outside and into a crowd of people, at least by the time your training's done. Safe in the knowledge that no one would dare without his permission.

Ah, getting a bit off track, but the point stands. It's well-balanced, and maybe a little subtle compared to other aspects of your relationship, but no less important.

Overstimulation - Oh god you don’t even know - Hang in there, you can handle a little more, can't you? Certainly for him, he knows you can. He knows your muscles are aching, and the sweat is dripping from your skin. He's well aware that your jaw aches and you can't keep that cross on your tongue much longer. He can see the shiver in your fingers and the tears that slip down your cheeks as the bite of exhaustion sinks its teeth into your bones.

But you're so sensitive right now, it's the perfect time for the slightest touch, the softest word, the easiest of commands. You can drop that cross and sink into the pleasure he's going to give you. You did so well for him, so don't hold back, fall apart for him, because of him - becomes wholly undignified and lose yourself to the sensations he gives you.

How May I Kink Your Head Canon?

#kinky one piece head canon #ask me anything #quin answers #kinky one piece head canon 2.0 #Sir Crocodile #dracule mihawk #dressycobra7

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vivziepoparchives · 1 month ago

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You mentioned somewhere that you have a lot of artwork in the queue.

How long do you think it'll take to post all of it? And also, have you considered finding another mod to run this blog, if life stuff happens and you can't update as frequently or something.

Nice effort on the archive though <3

At the current rate of five posts a day, it would take years to post everything. These are just the things I have right now and I know there are lots of things I still need to find and save. That would end up being like 10-ish years.

So, I do intend to increase the amount of posts per day in the future but I keep it low for now so I'm not too overwhelmed while I'm busy working on other fandom things like zines. I'm in a sort of prep time period at the moment where I'm going through everything all over again to attach sources to images in drafts to make queuing posts faster in the future.

I'll be filling the queue to its limit soon so that if I can't continue posting for some reason, it'll carry on for quite a while without me. And if I feel something is coming up that might cause me to be out of commission for a very long time, I have fandom friends I could probably ask to tap in for me briefly.

But I'm not looking for help with the blog at the moment. I do this in large part because I'm mentally ill, to be quite frank. Once I obtained a certain amount of Viv's old art, my brain decided it wouldn't allow me to stop until it feels like I've collected and sorted it all. I'm glad to share the result of that with others since I'm doing it anyways. But I don't need to subject other people to the weird way my brain works with these things lol

I do share a server with @rainyday-deer that's dedicated to research where we have channels for things like Viv's accounts, the accounts of others who have worked for or with her, information about what cons she's gone to, and other things like that. A sort of giant research notebook. So, I do have some supporting help outside of the blog which is much appreciated. I'm also very grateful for any tips I've received here.

And anyone is free to make their own blog, obviously! I would advise a different enough name that blogs don't start getting confused with each other, but I don't have a monopoly on organizing and posting Viv's old art.

I mostly say this because I know sometimes people can feel like they're being copied when others do similar things to them on social media and might get upset about it. Which might make people nervous to do it themselves. But all this art is out there for anyone to find. I would never take offense if someone wanted to make their own blog organized to their own preferences.

For me, as an archivist type, that would just mean more backups. And more backups are always good!

#modanswers #that last bit isn't directed at you in particular anon #just to assure people who get nervous about that sort of thing

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6leggedhorse · 4 months ago

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Low Effort Magick

Hey guys, it’s me again, finally back with a post before my bedtime. Anyways, I lost my main source of dopamine, which was watching someone who I was once very close to me suffer. Their account finally went private, and I remember I kept trying to make myself stop but I couldn’t. Thankfully Loki intervened and well, made it happen as they saw me go astray from my path. So I am writing this post as a fresh start I guess hahaha. So, just like you guys, I too have days where my mental health takes a dump. I feel as though I don’t have energy to dive into paganism/my craft/relationship with Loki. So I wanted to give you some flexible/low effort witchy things you can do.

1. Tea Magic: So I got married recently and my husband and I were gifted Mr. and Mrs. tea/coffee cups. I can’t really drink coffee no more because of the caffeine content makes my heart race and anxiety increase. Well, I can tally from Starbucks but that’s about it unless it’s something completely decaf like Hot chocolate. Anyways Tea is flexible, like any form of magic tea comes in differe variations and flavors. Tea is also easily accessible whether you harvest your own herbs, visit a grocery store, or go to Ross/TJ Maxx (I got tea from TJ Maxx lol). A box of tea from TJ Maxx for example is… $3 USD or in general under $5 USD.

You can enchant your tea a multitude of different ways, something as simple as breathing into it with your intent in mind can do the trick. You can make it as easy or as complex as you like. Crystals, runes, tarot, oracle cards, candles etc all can give your intention tea power. You can coordinate what is in your tea to give a boost to your drinkable spell. But be warned, I’m not a doctor so please don’t take my word to heart and use tea to try and heal/cure illnesses. Also when foraging for your herbs, please be well equipped with knowledge about what is safe to consume.

2. Carry and or wear crystals: If you don’t like tea or coffee no worries. Crystals can be worn or placing in your bag or person as each crystal carries its own meanings and intentions. If you need self love, wear rose quartz or carry some with you. If you need luck on your side, Green Aventurine can help with that. Be sure to properly cleanse and charge your crystals and set the intention as this is a low effort spell. If you have one of those necklaces where it has that small knitted bag to place a crystal, I recommend that if you want to coordinate a crystal with an outfit and intention.

3. Daily affirmations: things like “I am allowed to take up space.” “1% better everyday.” And “I am enough” don’t just boost your confidence and mental health but it strengthens you. When your mood feels low, spell work is harder to do, and may drain you more and faster. When you use affirmations, it’s like a small yet powerful manifestation/spell that isn’t just positive but empowering. It requires nothing other than just you, now if you want to use something like a crystal or create a self care ritual with affirmations it will still work. It’s just as easily flexible and easy to work with.

4. Nature: grounding and reconnecting with nature is healing and restorative to one’s mind and body and soul. If you’re just walking in your backyard to straight up touch some grass while being barefoot it works. If you go on a hike or mountain climbing, swimming, camping, skiing etc. it works. Remember your craft is your craft, you can make adjustments as needed according to your needs and wants. Just be aware that if you have allergies to be weary of them being triggered and carry necessary medications. Also be aware of animals whether they’re predatory or venomous/poisonious and remember to stay on hiking trails! If being that out in nature is inaccessible or not something you’re interested in, try your backyard as previously mentioned and or perhaps a park. Again, be sure to be aware of your surroundings. Reconnecting with nature helps with reconnecting with the roots of witchcraft as part of any craft in some shape or form ties into nature. Whether you’re a sea witch and you go to the beach to reconnect or if you’re a folklore witch and love hiking deep in the woods for example.

5. Self Care: Social Workers preach this in social services, self care can be doing your personal hobbies, socializing, spending time with your loved ones, everything showers, ritual baths and or playing with your pet/familiar. It can even be going window shopping and even going to your local cafe to get coffee and read a book or write on your blog. Well, I’m not in a cafe right at the moment but I am at home lol. Self care is, in my personal experience one of the best ways to perform low effort magic. It’s so flexible and customizable, that any witch, young or old, new or experienced can use this. Now, self care is important even when you have energy to study your craft. Without Self-care, you could and will eventually run yourself into the ground. I would go as far to say that self-care is a vital part of the craft and should be taken seriously to limit burnout. Not saying burnout won’t happen, but it will. It happens to all of us. It’s up to you how you handle it.

In conclusion

I know, small post. But It’s just about time for me to go to bed. I must be in the office tomorrow and it will be a busy day. I don’t look forward to it but I will pull through. Loki won’t answer me if I ask them if I will pull through the day lol. They know I can and won’t tell me otherwise. It’s a tough love tough shit sorta thing. But I love Loki and I deeply appreciate him for being around. I don’t know where I would be without them. I’m thinking on Friday I torture myself some more and finish Twilight of The Gods. I hate that show but I want to see if it gets better… I have my doubts but I want to see for my self. I know I have more stuff I need to follow up on and I will get to it. I just need to better manage my time and priorities. Alas, I must sleep, good night my fellow witches, pagans and Lokeans. It was so nice to see you again.

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year ago

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I know you must be busy and have a lot of work to do, so dont feel pressured to respond !! 😊

Anyways, i have Dominic💓 brainrot 😫‼️‼️💔💔, and was wondering what hed think of a reader that has been raised in a lower/working-class household all of their life ?

Here we have a person that's not has had even a *taste* of luxury, their clothes being second-hand, thrifting becoming their past-time, and, havung had parents living paycheck-to-paycheck, would feel guilty for ever asking tjem for anything, and had starting working for Dominic because they were desperate to pay them back for all the sacrifices they msde for them in their childhood :((

And here we have Dominic, a successful, wealthy business man, secretly raising their wages, and the whole time reader feels sheepish and at times even *embarrassed*, overwhelmed by so much money ??

Especially whrn he slides in a thick envelope with a generous stack of cash into their back pocket with a charming wink, or buys them sometjing that they had mentioned wanting in a passing conversation as they had been sadly stating how they coupd never afford it, and Dominic saying that its absolutely—

—"Not a problem in the slightest, mon chéri. Why wouldn't I want to reward my favourite babysitter for their hard work?"— **oozing** charisma and smiling his dazzling, award-winning smile, and insisting that—

—"You shouldn't be fussing over trifles such as money. Hard work pays off, and you have been working very hard indeed." ... @@"" ",

Anon, you've hit the nail on the head with this one 🤭. Thank you so much for writing in and enjoying my Dominic content, it means the world to me <3 !

TW: Dominic, Manipulative Mentions of Weight Loss, Implied Smut, Dominic Being a Creep

♡ But yes, absolutely, Dominic would use his financial position as a means of dominance over you. Subtly, of course, so that you don't know he's being...unabashed his efforts to woo you. But prevalent enough that you still feel indebted - grateful - to him for all that he's done.

♡ The longer you know each other, the more personal - intimate - the gifts he gets you become. Speaking on that, he makes a habit to inadvertently reward behaviours he desires in you, such as cutting off friends, dumping your boyfriend, spending more time around him, etc.

♡ At first, the gifts are general - vague - and inconspicuous; they belie the true extent to which Dominic has memorised your tastes. Something like a low-price jumper he knows is your general style, something to keep you warm in winter. He'll give you a smile. "Can't have our favourite babysitter freezing up now, can we."

♡ Then, it'll be a pair of boots to go with the jumper - "So you won't have any difficulty getting to and from our house."

♡ It doesn't matter that you live right next door to each other. Dominic doesn't want you taking any chances.

♡ He'll use his assertiveness to trick you into believing you've "Gotten a little thinner these days. Are you eating properly?"

♡ He'll feign concern as he comes close to you, lifting your arms, apologising and faking a vague bashfulness as he apologises for overstepping. "French hospitality, I suppose," he says, averting his eyes for no longer than a second.

♡ And of course, you believe him. Of course, you don't see a problem with his behaviour, especially when he seems so concerned for your wellbeing.

♡ He won't let that lie, by the way. He'll keep telling you how you seem to keep dropping a size every time you see him. Eventually, he'll insist on taking you out to dinner.

♡ When you inevitably try to refuse his kindness, he'll whip out old reliable. "It was supposed to be Marilyn and I's dinner date, but she's..." he glances down the hall. Gives his brow a light yet chiselled furrow. He wonders if you can hear the fizz of the sedative in Marilyn's drink as he can, the sound fresh in his ears.

♡ "Sick, unfortunately."

♡ So now, obviously, Dominic is faced with a dilemma. But you have the solution.

♡ He asks you to accompany him — “I’ll pay for you, of course,” — to take Marilyn’s place.

♡ You resist at first. Tell him that you couldn’t possibly do that. But Dominic is the father of manipulation, and he’s nursed many a lie, watched the become their own adulterous identities, and knows exactly how to get you to go.

♡ “Please, you deserve a break. And besides, I don’t want to be seen eating all the lobster on my lonesome.”

♡ You succumb to his efforts. He tells you to get ready for your dinner date. You tell him you have nothing worthy of wearing.

♡ He knows this.

♡ He smiles. Brings you to a room that is filled to the brim in outfits he says that “Marilyn and I rarely use. Something here will be your size, I'm sure.”

♡ He’s made sure there is. He’s bought half a dozen suits and dresses in just your size — and a little over or under depending on how tightly he wants to see the fabric squeeze you — for this exact occasion. Of which he expects there to be multiple.

♡ He resists the temptation of watching you undress. Of seeing you so bare in his house.

♡ He settles for whatever little flashes of skin your outfit affords. All of which were bought with the sole intention of giving Dominic enough to work with for his midnight musings.

♡ This is not the last time Dominic will treat you to dinner, the last time he watches your eyes bulge out of your skull as you see the amount the bill comes down to — a luxury Dominic lets you see to really instill that sense of indebtedness.

♡ And each time, he tries to get you further and further over the threshold of his house. His room.

♡ When you get undressed and back into your ordinary clothes, Dominic tells you he’ll keep the outfit and wash it.

♡ You don’t know it’s yours yet.

♡ He doesn’t wash it. He all but bathed in the scent of you, mouthing the places your warmest, most intimate sorts would have been pressed against. He imagines you there, vividly.

♡ He wonders how much you’d be willing to bend to the will of his wealth. How much he can make you do until you’re entrenched in his affections, toffee-sweet and with all its viscosity.

Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

#sweet as an angel #yandere #male yandere #yandere male #original yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere dilf #yandere dilf x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere blog #yandere writing #yandere x darling #tw yandere

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seelestars · 2 years ago

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ACCIDENTAL CONFESSION ?!

(wriothesley x gn reader)

a/n : the ending is not the best but oh well.. it is what it is ig

won my 50/50 for wrio so gonna write extra for him ,, gl to everyone pulling !

you, sigewinne, and wriothesley were having some tea together in his office. a smile threatens to make its way to your lips every time you think about how insistent he was about the three of you hanging out. wriothesley always had more spare time than you and sigewinne, but even with your pretty tight schedule— you couldn’t find it in you to refuse his request.

“so? is the tea to your liking?” wriothesley looks at you and sigewinne, a content expression on his face as he spent time with some of his favorite people.

“hehe, it’s good. but~ I think the shakes I make are better.” sigewinne giggles while resting her cheek on her palm, staring at wriothesley with half lidded eyes.

you were lost in your thoughts about wriothesley as he and sigewinne tossed playful comments towards each other. subconsciously, you began tuning out their conversation. it was like pleasant background noise for you while admiring how handsome you thought wriothesley was. his beautiful eyes you recount getting lost in quite a number of times, his calloused hands adorned by veins and gloves that you found yourself trying to touch whenever you could, his hair—

his hair.

at the thought of his hair, a fond memory played in your head.

“you know, the tufts on your hair remind me of… a wolf. i mean, you even act like one.” you said suddenly, as the two of you were temporarily slacking off. the smirk that formed on wriothesley’s lips made your heart race furiously. why did he have to be so attractive?! “oh really? then, you should be careful in case I bite you.” he jokes, chuckling. you nearly lost your composure at the sound of his laughter, having to hide your slightly flushed face. (even though he noticed <\3)

but.

it was inappropriate to be in love with your best friend, so you kept all of your feelings to yourself. …you doubt he felt the same anyway.

“you okay?” sigewinne had been trying to grab your attention a couple of times, seeing how you seemed distant.

you quickly reassured her that you were fine, silently hoping wriothesley didn’t notice the way you were looking at him the entire time.

“hmm.. alright then! oh— i almost forgot… is there something going on between you two? wriothesley nearly talks my ear off about you sometimes.” sigewinne smiles, throwing a knowing glance at wriothesley and back at you.

you noticed the way his cheeks immediately flushed a subtle pink at her words (though, yours did too.) his head hung low in his hand as he avoided looking at the w two of you, a groan escaping his lips.

wriothesley must’ve been very embarrassed from the way he tried to shut down the conversation, coming up with excuses that none of you believed in.

“anyways. um. i still have some work to attend to, so ill talk to you all later.” his words were slightly jumbled together as he quickly walked out of his office, leaving a confused you with an amused sigewinne.

“i wasn’t joking when i said it.” sigewinne turns to you, smiling. her expression made you nervous, even though she was normally like this too. you coughed, your cheeks reddening further. “r-right.” you tried to ignore what she said to the best of ability, knowing it would cause complications. but… your mind couldn’t help but wander..

did wriothesley truly have the same feelings for you? what if sigewinnes just playing with you— no.. that can’t be. wriothesley seemed embarrassed at being exposed like that. no. there’s no way he’s in love with you. he’s too out of your league—

“you should talk to him.” sigewinne had reached up to pat your shoulder in an attempt to be reassuring. it didn’t quite work very well, but you appreciated the effort nonetheless, so you gave her an awkward smile.

and that’s what lead you to where you were now, currently chasing after wriothesley. luckily, after he noticed your presence he purposefully slowed down a little for you to catch up.

once you finally caught up to him, you let out a relieved exhale. “h…hey. I wanted to ask you something very important.” you confess shyly, feeling hesitant about what you were about to say next.

“oh?~ what could possibly be that important to you, to the point you seem to be in such a rush?” wriothesley smiles, back to his normal self that enjoyed teasing others and joking around after having seemingly calmed down from earlier. he crossed his arms, looking down at you in a way that made you swoon over him in your head.

“i.. was what sigewinne said earlier.. true?” your voice was barely above a whisper as you spoke those words at last. you were oblivious to the way you looked so endearingly nervous— in wriothesley’s eyes at least. you fidgeted around as you anxiously waited for his response.

“…yes.” wriothesley admits quietly. for a brief moment, his vulnerable and true emotions were let out. but they were gone as quick as they came, his expression now unreadable as he tried his best to avoid your gaze. “I do talk about you to her a lot— in a good way, of course.” he elaborates.

“It’s only because of how much I.. hm. how should I put this… I’m going to be honest with you here.” there it was, the him that he hid behind playful words and teasing smirks. no longer was he trying to hide how he really felt about you.

“over time, I found myself growing feelings for you. I know it’s stupid and unlike me to be reluctant to tell you all of this, but since sigewinne blew my cover in a way… there’s no other choice besides to let it all out, is there?” he lets out an airy laugh, nonchalant even when admitting the things he was most unsure about.

you felt tears well up in your eyes at his confession, immediately wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. feelings of happiness from your feelings being reciprocated made your heart swell as you let out many tears of joy.

“woah there— go easy on me there, will ya?” wriothesley laughs, humming as he patted your back comfortingly as you sobbed into his chest from how happy you were at that moment.

“i-i can’t believe it… I’ve had a crush on you for a long time.. this doesn’t feel real at all..” you pulled away, wiping your tears away as you smiled at him, nearly seconds from crying again. you had half a mind to be embarrassed about being so pathetic in front of wriothesley, but you didn’t care. (for now) not when you just found out the intense love you held for him was mutual.

“then.. hopefully the date ill be taking you on right now will make it feel real.”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 24 days ago

Text

Switched Around | Kept

Hello hello! I love your writing so so so much!!! I have a prompt request partially inspired by the Switched Around series for Sanders Sides if you have the time and interest for it! I was thinking about the song Wishin’ and Hopin’ by Dusty Springfield and how that could be applicable to all of the sides trying to do nice things for Roman because they want to date him. At first, Roman and Remus are both oblivious, but Remus catches on first and has a Conversation with the others about “You aren’t being nice to my brother just because you want to date him, right? Right?” Anyways. – anon

Might I request a fic where the sides are soft to Roman? I desire hurt/comfort in these desperate times – anon

Hi so I had a random idea. What if Virgil was weirdly flexible? Maybe he spiraled or something and just taught himself so he could hide somewhere if needed. Just a thought tho thanks!! – anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: sort of homophobia? kind of? not really? it's hidden under weird purity culture veneers and it's only mentioned in passing

Pairings: prinxiety

Word Count: 4255

Virgil learns three things about Roman.

One: Roman loves to cuddle.

The Imagination has several spots that are basically their own private little rooms, whether they happen to be inside or out. The one Roman has a not-so-secret preference for is tucked up along the side of the coastline below the mesas overlooking the ocean leading to Patton's realm, right on the border between the forest and the beach. Flowering trees and bushes have grown together in a thicket, creating a small overlook of warm, flat stone just above the nesting grounds for the sea dragons. It's large enough that all six of them could sit there comfortably without risk of falling off, but small enough that it covets the right amount of safety for his little dragon.

"C'mere," Virgil murmurs as he eases himself to the ground, holding out his arms, "come sit with me, baby."

Roman sniffles, scrubbing an arm under his nose. He heeds Virgil's instruction and slots himself into the crook of his legs, burying his face in his neck. Virgil closes his eyes and breathes in the warm scent of saltwater, fresh flowers, and Roman's favorite shampoo, rubbing his back.

"Hey," he whispers, "I'm really proud of you, you know that?"

"Why?"

"You stood up for yourself when you were really scared. That's hard to do. God knows I don't make it easy on you."

"You don't," Roman mumbles, prodding his side just to make him yelp. "But…thanks."

The breeze ruffles his hair as he kisses his temple. The sun hasn't quite begun to set yet, but it's low enough in the sky that they're no longer at risk of being cooked alive. Still, he has the presence of mind to shift them slightly into the shadow of an overhanging tree, just so Roman won't be blinded when he looks up. He keeps tracing idle shapes across the space between Roman's shoulder blades, keeps running his hand through Roman's hair. He gets a few more sniffles and shivers for his efforts, but Roman also snuggles against him a little more so he's counting it as a win.

Then he hears a soft growl from over his shoulder and turns to see a curious wolpertinger peering at them from the shadows. Roman goes stiff in his arms and he doesn't hesitate, twisting around and stretching out his leg to tap it lightly on the nose with his foot. It stiffens and squeaks before scampering off.

"Sorry, little dragon, it didn't mean us any harm. Just curious as to who stole its favorite sunbathing spot." He looks back to see Roman staring at him with wide eyes and he can't help the coo that slips from his mouth. "It's okay, baby, we're not hurt, it's not hurt, we're okay."

"How did you do that?"

"Do what? Most of them are harmless, baby, and I didn't do anything hard enough to—"

"How did your leg move like that? Since when are you that flexible?"

Virgil blinks. Oh. Right. He, uh, doesn't really have to do that very often around Roman. Roman, who's currently staring at him like he just grew a third leg as opposed to moved it in a way that he didn't expect.

Only belatedly does he realize that Roman's gone all still and warm in his grip again, and when he blinks, he notices those cute little ears have gone all red at the tips and Roman's looking everywhere but him. He frowns, going to ask what's got him so worked up, only to replay their conversation in his head.

Oh.

He can't help the small grin curling up his face, chuckling when Roman catches sight of it and flushes bright pink. As soon as his lip starts to wobble, though, he pulls him right back in and kisses his cheek.

"I know you didn't mean it like that, little dragon, it's okay. 'M sorry, I was just trying to think of the best way to answer you."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, I will, I just—" he sighs, adjusting his grip so they're leaning up against the trunk of a nearby tree— "I don't think I've ever…told someone this before."

His soft admission is enough to jolt Roman from the worst of his flustered state. He sits up a little more, looking at Virgil with a cocked head that definitely does nothing to discourage the puppy allegations Janus keeps throwing at him. Virgil allows himself a moment to internally freak out about how adorable that is before he takes a deep breath.

"Growing up with a strong connection to the Imagination was difficult sometimes. Not just because it was hard to remember what was 'real,' so to speak, but it was really hard to figure out how to turn the 'make stuff' thing off."

"What do you mean, the 'make stuff' thing?"

In response, Virgil reaches a hand up. The branch above them sprouts a new vine, curling down through the air to hover just above Virgil's outstretched fingers. A small red flower blooms at the very end, just large enough for Virgil to tuck behind Roman's ear. Roman watches him with that familiar wide-eyed expression and he can't resist the urge to sweep his fingers across his cheek.

"That's the 'make stuff' thing," he says softly, "the way Patton and I control stuff in here. I've got a pretty good handle on it now, and so does he, but when we were growing up, it was really hard to figure out."

"How does it work?"

"Well, normally I just have to picture what it is I want to appear or happen, but—yeah," he murmurs when Roman goes pale, "I think you can figure out what made that hard growing up."

"Oh, God," Roman whispers, before surging forward to wrap his arms tightly around Virgil's shoulders, "I'm so sorry, it's—it's bad enough when they stay in my head but seeing the things that freak me out appear right in front of me—oh, God, Virgil—"

"Hey, hey, little dragon, it's okay. I'm okay now, see?" He taps the flower and ruffles Roman's hair. "I'm all okay. You're so sweet, baby, but it's okay. We're all okay."

Roman's mouth is still all tight and pinched but he relaxes a little under Virgil's ministrations. He slumps, his head against his shoulder, one hand still curled protectively into the fabric just over Virgil's heart. He tries not to melt at that and fails miserably.

"You're kind of right, though," he murmurs, "it was…hard. And I wasn't the brave and dashing knight you know and love—" he chuckles when Roman lightly smacks his chest— "so I couldn't really fight them off."

"So you had to hide."

He blinks, looking down at the certainty in Roman's voice. Roman looks back, something way too close to understanding flickering behind his eyes. Which does mean that Virgil has to pull him a little closer and kiss his forehead about it, because he is a brave and dashing knight now, thank you very much, and he is more than willing to fight off every single one of Roman's monsters.

"Yeah, I had to hide. And there aren't really convenient hiding lockers and closets like there are in horror movies and stuff, so…had to get good at squeezing into anywhere I could. Or climbing on top of or under the nearest bigger thing."

"Why couldn't you make a place to hide?"

"Because—because—shut up," he mumbles as Roman laughs, "don't bring Janus into this."

"I guess it would look pretty suspicious if a locker just appeared out of nowhere."

"Yeah, see?"

Roman narrows his eyes but lets it go, giving him another squeeze. "Thanks for telling me, Virgil. I…well, you know I get what it's like to be really scared, so…I get it."

"I know you do."

"So, like, how flexible are you?"

This time, Virgil does not let him get away with it, waggling his eyebrows until Roman splutters and shoves at his shoulder. He snags his wrist—gently!—as he goes to pull back, clicking his tongue. "Don't start fights you won't win, little dragon."

"Big talk from a guy who couldn't figure out how to make a convenient hiding place."

Virgil just smirks—not just to hide a way fonder smile that Roman's really comfortable enough to tease him back, finally—and hooks one leg over the arm he's holding, the other around Roman's hips, using his weight to push Roman back until he's splayed out along the rock with Virgil on his hips. He has one hand under his head to cushion the fall—obviously—and the other pins his free wrist to the ground. The cutest squeak leaves Roman's lips as he tries to figure out how they got here, staring up with those big puppy dog eyes that make Virgil want to tease him so bad—

—but Roman's still a little fragile from earlier so he settles for a chuckle and a tilt of his head.

"What was that?"

"You—how—what—Virgil!"

"Yeah, baby?"

Roman struggles a little against the hold but Virgil's got him pretty well and truly stuck—he is careful he's not hurting the poor thing, though, he promised he wouldn't do that, after all—before he subsides with a criminally adorable pout on his face. He chuckles again, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"I told you, baby, don't start fights you won't win."

"You made your point, lemme go now."

"Hmm…"

"Virgil!" He lets out another cute noise when Virgil can't resist the urge to tickle him just a little bit. "Virgil!"

"Okay, okay, I'm done, I'm done, I promise." He lets Roman out of the hold, immediately sweeping him into another cuddle right up against his chest. "I gotcha, little dragon, you're okay."

Roman grumbles a little but snuggles back under Virgil's chin with a contented sigh. "I like this new method of apologizing."

"Yeah? Does that mean I get to cuddle you all the time?"

"Mhm. Shut up now, no more talking. I wanna take a nap."

"Shutting up, little dragon."

This works out great, because Virgil is also a snuggle monster, which means he now has an excuse to sweep Roman into his arms all the time. Which does come in handy because two…

Two: Roman's really easy to startle.

Now, did he sort of know this already? Yes. Did he take advantage of it sometimes? Also yes. Is he gonna do that anymore?

Only sometimes.

But he keeps his word: he no longer sneaks up behind Roman to scare him and he doesn't loom over Roman's shoulder to startle him. Instead, he'll walk up slowly from the side so Roman has a chance to see him before he gets right next to him, leaning down to call his name or whisper boo before wrapping his arms around him. Roman normally jumps a little and occasionally swats his arm before relaxing into the hold. Then Virgil just climbs onto the couch behind him and holds him like a little dragon teddy bear while Roman rambles about whatever he wants.

Logan's in the living room when he does it once and fully puts down his book to smile fondly at them. "Well, isn't that precious?"

"He is, isn't he?"

Roman swats his leg. "He was talking about both of us, you menace."

Virgil gasps. "You think I'm cute?"

"Oh my God, shut up, Virgil."

"You think I'm cute," he teases, leaning forward to press a smacking kiss to Roman's cheek, just to hear him yelp.

"Virgil!"

"Aw, don't worry, baby, you're still the cutest thing I've ever seen."

Roman grumbles and mumbles as Virgil kisses his shoulder a few more times, a grounding hand on his stomach to help him calm down. When Roman slumps against him, he leans them both against the back of the couch and then remembers that Logan's still smiling at both of them. Only this time, his gaze is only on Virgil and it's very knowing.

Virgil may or may not mouth at him to shut up over Roman's shoulder.

Or when Patton has next pick at movie night and although he picks a Disney movie, he happens to pick one that has a nightmarish sequence involving worshipers of the literal Devil coming to burst into flames to an admittedly impressive score but…yeesh. This is a kid's movie? This is the Disney movie that Patton picked?

(That one…actually makes a little more sense when he thinks about it, but he can't think too much about it without getting a little sad.)

So it's not too much of a surprise when Roman lets out a very quiet oh when the screen goes a dark blue, and then promptly buries his head in the crook of Virgil's neck and hangs on for dear life as the music builds and builds and builds. Virgil immediately squishes them further into the back of the couch, reaching down to snag a free blanket, wrapping it around them under the guise of warming up. Really, he's got a little dragon to snuggle and he'll be damned if he fails at his job.

Roman's so still, so quiet, the only noise the soft panting breaths at Virgil's shoulder. He flinches a little when Virgil's arm moves away to grab the blanket so he leans in to whisper in his ear.

"Hey, little dragon, it's okay. I'm right here, you got me, see?" Blanket wrapped around them both, he shuffles Roman a little closer, tucking a bit of hair back from his face so he can stroke his cheek. "It's okay. You're okay. Just hang onto me."

Roman snuggles gratefully into his hold as a plume of fire engulfs the screen—okay, Virgil might have to have a word with Patton after this—that is, if Logan doesn't get to it first, he can see the glances Logan's been giving Patton for a while now. He can't stop the disapproving huff that leaves his mouth as he turns his attention back to Roman, scratching along his scalp and humming under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he sees Janus watching them. He glances up with a wordless 'what?'

Janus just rolls his eyes and looks away, like he's offended by something. Virgil frowns, huddling a little more around Roman. Roman manages to watch the last bit of the sequence once the dawn actually arrives and—wait, that's the end? Okay, forget having a conversation with Patton about picking better movies so Roman doesn't get scared, they need to have a conversation about goddamn standards. But that can wait for a time when Roman's feeling better and not still barely trembling in his arms.

"Hey," he whispers as the credits start to roll, "what do you need, little dragon? What can I do?"

"C-can we go watch something stupid so I can sleep?"

"Of course we can. Your room or my room?"

"Mine?"

Virgil smiles, ready to sink out right there with Roman still in his arms, when he catches Janus staring at him pointedly. "I'll be right there, okay? I promise."

Roman nods and sinks out, which gives Virgil precisely no time to figure out what the hell he's done to make Janus stare at him like that before said Janus is sitting right next to him. "You'd better not be doing what I think you're doing."

"What?"

Janus glares at him. "I said, you'd better not be doing what I think you're doing."

"Well, what do you think I'm doing?"

"If you're luring Roman into a false sense of security so you can scare him—"

"Whoa, whoa, what? No, J—he's scared as hell right now, he asked if we can go watch something stupid so he can sleep. I'm not gonna do shit right now, what the fuck?"

Janus visibly relaxes, tugging on his gloves. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to accuse you."

"Kinda sounds like you did, J."

"Yes, and I'm sorry for that. I suppose I'm…caught off guard by the movie as much as Roman was."

"Believe me," Virgil mutters, glancing at the conversation happening between Logan, Patton, and Remus right now, "you're not the only one."

"I'm glad Roman has you to rely on," Janus says quietly, "now go, make sure he can sleep."

Virgil tips him a lazy salute before sinking out, knocking on Roman's door. Roman opens it with a shy smile and all his previous irritation melts away before he can even remember that it was there. And if he's a little extra affectionate as they watch something that night, well, he's only making sure he lives up to Janus's expectations.

Which leads him neatly to three: Roman has a very protective older brother.

He's not quite sure how he ended up in Remus's room with Remus glaring at him like he just ruined his stuffed Kraken, but here he is.

"Don't even fucking think of lying to me," Remus growls, voice as deathly serious as Virgil's ever heard it, "you got that?"

"Yeah, Remus, I got it."

"Good. Now: what the fuck are you doing with my brother?"

"What? I'm not doing anything with Roman!"

"Bullshit." Remus gets up and stalks over to him, prodding him in the chest. "You've been acting all mushy-gushy with him for ages. And he's falling for it. So I'll ask you again: what the fuck are you doing with Roman?"

"God, is Logan gonna interrogate me next? I'm being nice to Roman because he deserves someone being nice to him. He's my friend, Remus!"

"But you want him to be more."

That shuts Virgil up. Because that's true, but technically he and Roman are already working on that part. The thing is, they've agreed that they're not telling anyone that yet.

Unfortunately, Remus takes his silence the wrong way.

"You're fucking unbelievable," he snarls, "are you stringing my brother along for some sick entertainment? Is that all he is to you, one of your fucking stories?"

"Hey, hang on—"

"Or are you only being nice to him 'cause you wanna get in his pants? Is he a prize to you? You gonna dump him and break his heart as soon as you—"

"Shut the hell up, Remus," Virgil growls, finally pushing himself to his feet. "I know you like to think you know everything, but you have no idea what the fuck you're talking about. No, I'm not just being nice to Roman to string him along, no, I'm not just trying to sleep with Roman and then break his heart, and no, I'm not treating the person I love like a game! And for the record, the reason I'm not answering you is because I'm trying to respect his boundaries!"

He stops, panting from the force of his outburst. Remus is staring at him, eyes wide.

(Not as cute as Roman, part of him whispers, but enough for there to be a family resemblance.)

"You love him?"

Ah.

Shit.

He did say that, didn't he?

"Yeah," he says, because he's not going to lie to Remus, he gave his word, "I really do, Remus. Not a joke, not a game, just…yeah. I'm not going to hurt him."

"You'd better fucking not," but it's more of a playful threat now, and Virgil can't help the relieved smile. "Or else I will get Patton to kill you in the worst way possible."

"I swear on my honor."

"Yeah, yeah, your honor."

"Remus, I'll put you in a headlock, I swear."

"On what, your honor?"

And it probably would've continued from there, had there not come a timid knock at Remus's door, followed by a heartbreaking sniffle of: "Re?"

Remus sobers instantly, darting to the door and yanking it open to reveal a teary and sniffly Roman. He catches sight of Virgil and draws up short.

"Oh, baby, what happened?"

"Y-you're busy," Roman stutters, "I'll—I'll just g—"

"You're not going anywhere." Remus pulls him inside and shuts the door. "Who do I need to kill? What happened, Ro?"

"I'm—I—" he won't stop glancing at Virgil— "I'm not—I don't—"

"Do you need me to go, little dragon?"

"No!" Roman grabs his arm. "Please, please don't go, I'm sorry, I just—"

"Whoa, hey, hey, baby." He pulls Roman into a cuddle, slipping Roman's shaking hands around his neck. "You got me, sweetheart, see? 'M right here, cutie, I'm not going anywhere."

Roman sniffles again, weakly clutching Virgil's collar. He leans down to kiss his forehead.

"You gotta cry some of this out first, Princey, or you good to talk to us first?"

"Can—I can talk."

"Okay. You gonna let me hold onto you while you do it? I'll turn you 'round so you can talk to Remus, just hold onto you 'round your waist, okay? Yeah?" Virgil takes Roman's hands and gives him a little spin, wrapping his arms tightly around Roman's middle and pressing him against his chest. Roman grabs onto his sleeve with one hand, the other still wiping the tears from his face. Virgil hooks his chin over his shoulder and closes his eyes. "There we go, little dragon, you're safe."

He catches a glimpse of the approval in Remus's gaze before it switches fully to concern as he grabs Roman's free hand. "What happened, Roro?"

"P-Patton told me we needed—needed to talk. An'-an'-an' I didn't know what—what about, and he said that I've—that we've—that Virgil's—"

"That Virgil's what, Roro?"

Roman's stomach hitches so badly Virgil has to smooth his hand over it, shushing him lightly. "He said that we've been too—too vulgar."

Something dark and furious sprouts in Virgil's chest. Vulgar? What, cuddling and chaste kisses are vulgar now?

"You've been what? Unless I've missed something, I don't think you've been anything other than tooth-rottingly sweet to each other. Which is its own thing, but we'll talk about that later. No, Ro-Bro," Remus says, reaching up to cup Roman's cheeks in his hands, "you and Virgil aren't being vulgar or anything like that."

"H-he kept saying we were being inappropriate and that we—that we knew better and that we shouldn't be—"

Remus gently cuts Roman off by covering his mouth. "Listen to me, Ro, I'm being 100% honest right now: there is nothing wrong with the way you and Virgil have been acting. Cuddling is fine, him kissing your forehead or your cheek is fine, you getting comfort from him when you're scared is fine."

"He's right," Virgil murmurs, "don't listen to Patton, not about this. We're not being vulgar."

Roman mumbles something behind Remus's hand and Remus takes it away. Roman sniffles. "P-promise?"

"Yeah, Roro, I swear. Virgil swears too. On his honor."

Virgil rolls his eyes but kisses Roman's temple anyway. "I promise you, Princey. We've…I know we've talked about this."

"Wait, you have?"

Roman's still sniffling, but he manages to summon up a bit of snark. "Yeah, Re. We talk about stuff."

"Shh, it's okay," Virgil soothes, "your brother's just being protective."

"I told you it wasn't any of your business!"

"You're my brother, that makes it my business. Especially when your soon-to-be-suitor starts dropping the 'L' word."

"Wait, what?"

Virgil glares at Remus, who just grins at him. He sighs, letting Roman turn around to look at him. And when he sees that hopeful little face looking up at him with tears still shining on his cheeks and his little red nose…fuck, what is he supposed to do, not melt?

"Well, I didn't want the first time I told you to be right after your brother gave me a terrible shovel talk and you've been crying," he says softly, "but…yeah, Roman. I love you. So much, little dragon. And you don't have to say anything, you don't have to—"

"I love you too."

And yeah, that's a kill shot. Virgil's gone. Too cute. He's passed away from too much adorableness. And he's smiling like an idiot and Remus is snickering at him but he is just gonna lean down and kiss Roman's cheek before he spontaneously combusts.

"Is that what I look like when I get all red?" Roman mumbles.

"Nah. You're still cuter."

"Shut up."

"Alright, that's enough being sweet in my room," Remus announces, "now, you two go frolic in the nice part of the Imagination while Logan and I go have a nice chat with Patton."

Which…maybe he should be fearing for Patton's safety? A little bit? But he's too preoccupied right now.

Oh, right. Virgil actually learns four things.

Four: Roman loves him too.

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#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #logan sanders #patton sanders

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pxnsneverland · 2 days ago

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Ruthless Grace | Austin Butler x OC (part 12)

(gif source: buckclevn)

plot summary: Amidst the grime and squalor of Victorian England's winding cobblestone alleys, a young woman's life hangs precariously in the balance. Violet, a poor peasant girl with long raven locks and piercing gray eyes, possesses a haunting beauty that belies the harsh realities of her existence. Tragedy struck two years prior when Violet's mother succumbed to illness, leaving her to fend for herself and her father – a cruel, selfish man consumed by vices of alcohol and gambling. On one fateful night, Violet's father drags her unwillingly to that very den of iniquity, and there she learns a horrifying truth from the club's greedy, perverted owner: to repay his mounting gambling debts, her father has sold her into sexual servitude. Violet's vehement protests fall on deaf ears, until an unlikely savior emerges from the shadows. Lord Austin Butler intervenes with a bargain of his own. This dangerous man offers to pay off Violet's father's debts in exchange for her accompaniment, and Violet is torn from the only life she has known. While Austin's demeanor remains shrouded in mystery and detachment at first, Violet gradually glimpses his softer, even playful side as time passes within the manor's walls and an unexpected connection blossoms between the unlikely pair.

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 4754

warnings/notes: I was so happy to recieve that anon message waiting for the next part of this story!! I'm so glad there are faithful readers :) Don't hesitate to send me more!

Chapter 12: Shadow Among the Roses

Violet paced restlessly in Austin's study, the ancient red tome clutched tightly in her hands. The night had fallen hours ago, yet Austin had not returned. Every creak of the manor made her heart leap with anticipation and dread. The knowledge she'd uncovered weighed on her like a physical burden—the Everly bloodline, its connection to vampires, the Crimson Heart. Had her entire presence in his home been orchestrated for this purpose?

When the study door finally swung open, Violet whirled around, her breath catching in her throat. Austin stood framed in the doorway, his tall figure silhouetted against the dim light of the corridor. His usually immaculate appearance was slightly disheveled, and there was a weariness in his eyes that spoke of the day's trials.

"You're still awake," Austin observed, his voice low and tinged with concern. He stepped into the study, closing the door quietly behind him. His movements were weary, lacking their usual fluid grace.

Violet held up the small crimson book, her eyes never leaving his face. "I found what you wanted me to find," she said, her voice trembling slightly despite her efforts to remain composed. "Is it true? About my family?"

Austin's gaze lingered on the tome before meeting her eyes. The weight of centuries seemed to press upon his shoulders as he moved toward the fireplace, staring into the dying embers. "I had intended to be here when you discovered it," he admitted. "To explain properly."

"Then explain now," Violet demanded, her grip tightening on the book. "Am I merely a means to an end for you? A tool to locate this... this Crimson Heart?"

Austin turned to face her, his expression pained. "No, Violet. Never that."

"Then why?" she pressed, taking a step closer to him. "Why did you really bring me here? Was it because of my name? My blood?"

"I didn't know," Austin said quietly. "Not at first." He moved to his desk, retrieving a glass decanter and pouring himself a measure of dark liquid that Violet now recognized was not brandy. "When I first saw you, I was drawn to something in you that I couldn't explain. It was only later, when I learned your surname, that I began to suspect."

Violet watched him drink, the reality of what he was – what he needed to survive – no longer shocking but still unsettling. "And what exactly did you suspect?"

Austin set down his glass, moving closer to her with deliberate slowness, as if afraid she might flee. "The Everly bloodline was thought extinct for centuries. The last known member died in 1742 – or so we believed. Your ancestors must have gone into hiding, changed their name perhaps, only for your branch of the family to reclaim it generations later."

"But why would they hide?" Violet asked, confusion evident in her furrowed brow.

"Because," Austin said gravely, "the Everlys were hunted – by vampires seeking the power of their blood, and by The Order seeking to prevent vampires from obtaining that power."

Violet sank into a nearby chair, the implications overwhelming her. "So I am important because of my blood," she murmured, a bitter edge to her voice.

"To some, yes," Austin acknowledged, kneeling before her chair so their eyes were level. "But not to me, Violet."

"How can I believe that?" she whispered, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "Everything I've learned suggests I'm merely a pawn in some ancient game between vampires and hunters."

Austin's eyes softened as he reached for her hand, hesitating just before making contact. "If that were true, I would have taken your blood the night Phillip attacked you. I would have used you already." His voice was gentle yet firm with conviction. "Instead, I've protected you, taught you, given you the knowledge to understand the world you've unwittingly entered."

Violet searched his face, looking for any sign of deception, but found only earnest concern in his gaze. The weight of his words settled over her like a warm blanket on a cold night.

"Then why show me this book? Why tell me about my bloodline at all?" she asked, her voice small but steady.

Austin stood and moved to the window, moonlight casting sharp shadows across his features. "Because you deserve the truth, however dangerous it might be. And because..." he paused, turning back to face her, "the danger to you exists whether you know of it or not. Your blood calls to my kind—it always has. I hoped that understanding would help you protect yourself."

"From vampires like Phillip?"

"And from The Order," Austin added gravely. "They've been more active in London recently. My sources tell me they're searching for something."

"The Crimson Heart," Violet whispered, remembering the text's description.

Austin nodded, his expression troubled. "They believe it can be used to eradicate all vampires. And they're not entirely wrong."

Violet rose from her chair, placing the ancient tome on the desk. "You knew all this when you brought me here, yet you risked it anyway. Why?"

The silence between them seemed to stretch forever, filled with unspoken truths and hidden feelings. Finally, Austin moved closer, close enough that she could feel the coolness radiating from his skin.

"Because in four centuries of existence, I have never met anyone like you," he confessed, his voice barely audible. "Your courage, your kindness despite the cruelty life has shown you. You awakened something in me I thought long dead."

Violet's breath caught in her throat as Austin gently took her hands in his. His touch was cool but no longer unsettling—it had become familiar, comforting even.

"I cannot offer you a normal life," he continued, his thumbs tracing circles on her palms. "I cannot give you children or grow old beside you. But I can promise you my protection, my loyalty, and whatever passes for my heart."

Tears welled in Violet's eyes, not from fear or sadness, but from the overwhelming intensity of the moment. "I don't know if I'm strong enough for this world of yours," she admitted.

"You're stronger than you know," Austin murmured, his cool fingers gently brushing away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. "But I would never ask you to bear this burden alone."

Violet leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly at the comfort it provided. When she opened them again, she met his gaze with newfound resolve. "Then teach me," she said firmly. "If I am to survive in this world between worlds, I need to understand it completely—not just the parts you deem safe for me to know."

A shadow of concern crossed Austin's features. "Some knowledge comes at a price, Violet."

"I'm willing to pay it," she replied without hesitation. "This is my life now, isn't it? My heritage, my blood—they've always been part of me, even when I didn't know it. I deserve to understand what that means."

Austin's expression softened with admiration. He nodded slowly, accepting her decision. "Very well. But we must proceed with caution. The Order has eyes everywhere, and Phillip Mormont will not be deterred by one failure."

He moved to his desk and unlocked a hidden drawer with a small key he kept on a chain around his neck. From within, he withdrew a leather-bound journal, its pages yellow with age and filled with handwritten notes in various languages.

"This is my personal account of everything I know about the Everly bloodline and the Crimson Heart," he explained, placing it carefully in her hands. "I've collected these observations over centuries—some from personal experience, others from sources both reliable and dubious. It's incomplete, but it's a start."

Violet accepted the journal with reverence, feeling the weight of history in her hands. "Thank you for trusting me with this."

"Trust goes both ways," Austin replied, his voice low and intimate. "Which is why I must tell you where I was today."

He guided her to a pair of chairs positioned before the fireplace, where the embers still glowed with faint warmth. As they sat, he stared into the dying fire, gathering his thoughts.

"I met with an old acquaintance—a vampire elder named Elara who has walked this earth for nearly a millennium. She confirmed what I had suspected: The Order is moving with purpose, gathering resources and allies for something significant."

"The Crimson Heart," Violet whispered.

"Yes. But there's more." Austin's expression grew grave. "They're not working alone. Someone from our side—a vampire of considerable influence—is aiding them, though their identity remains hidden."

Violet's mind immediately jumped to Phillip Mormont, remembering his predatory interest in her at the ball. "Could it be Phillip?"

Austin shook his head. "Phillip is many things—dangerous, unpredictable, cruel—but he would never ally himself with The Order. Their goals are fundamentally opposed to our continued existence."

"Then who?"

Austin's fingertips traced the edge of his glass as he considered her question. "That's what troubles me most. Few vampires possess the necessary influence or power to be valuable to The Order. Fewer still would betray their own kind."

Violet leaned forward, drawn into the mystery despite herself. "Perhaps they don't see it as betrayal. Maybe they believe they're working toward something greater."

A flicker of admiration crossed Austin's face. "Astute observation. The Crimson Heart is rumored to hold different powers for different bearers. In the hands of The Order, it could mean our extinction. But in the hands of a vampire..."

"Unlimited power," Violet finished softly.

"Or something else entirely." Austin rose and stoked the dying fire, sending a cascade of sparks up the chimney. "Some legends suggest it could remove our curse without ending our immortality—all the benefits of vampirism with none of the...limitations."

Violet watched him, his silhouette strong against the renewed flames. "And you've never been tempted by that possibility?"

Austin turned to her, his expression vulnerable in a way she rarely witnessed. "Of course I have. Four centuries of existing in shadows, of watching those I care for wither and die, of fighting a hunger that never truly abates..." He closed his eyes briefly. "The temptation is considerable."

"Yet you've never sought it out."

"Because power of that magnitude corrupts," he said, returning to sit beside her. "And because the price would be too high."

"What price?"

Austin's gaze was steady, unflinching. "According to the oldest texts, activating the Heart's full potential requires the willing sacrifice of an Everly—the last of their bloodline."

The revelation struck Violet like a physical blow. She felt the blood drain from her face as the implications became clear. "So if I am truly the last Everly..."

"Then you would be the sacrifice," Austin confirmed, his voice tight with emotion. "Which is why I have spent decades ensuring the Heart remained hidden, and why I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from those who seek it."

Violet's mind raced with this new information. The weight of her heritage, of her very existence, suddenly felt crushing. "How can you be certain I'm the last? There could be others—distant cousins, relatives who don't even know their true lineage."

"It's possible," Austin conceded. "The Everlys were once numerous. But The Order has been thorough in their hunt, and time has done the rest." He reached for her hand, his touch gentle yet grounding. "What matters now is keeping you safe while we learn more about the Heart and those who seek it."

A thought occurred to Violet, making her breath catch. "The ball—Phillip's attack—was he testing me? Confirming what I am?"

Austin's jaw tightened, his expression darkening as he considered her question. "I believe so. Your blood would have revealed your heritage to him immediately. The Everly bloodline has a... distinctive quality that any vampire would recognize upon tasting."

"Is that why you've never..." Violet trailed off, a blush coloring her cheeks.

"Yes," Austin admitted, his voice strained with the weight of his restraint. "Among other reasons."

Violet's hand trembled slightly in his. "And now Phillip knows what I am."

"Which makes our situation considerably more complex," Austin confirmed, his thumb tracing small circles on her palm in a gesture meant to comfort. "Phillip is impulsive but not foolish. He'll recognize the value you represent, both to vampires and to The Order."

"What will he do?" Violet asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Austin's eyes met hers, their blue depths reflecting the dancing flames from the fireplace. "He'll either try to use you himself or sell the information to the highest bidder. Either way, we must be prepared."

Rising from his chair with fluid grace, Austin moved to a cabinet on the far wall. He unlocked it with a small key from his waistcoat pocket and withdrew something wrapped in black velvet. Returning to Violet, he carefully unwrapped the object, revealing an ornate silver dagger with intricate engravings along its blade and a handle inlaid with deep blue lapis lazuli.

"This blade was forged by an Everly ancestor centuries ago," Austin explained, presenting it to her handle-first. "The silver is mixed with other elements that make it particularly effective against my kind. A cut from this will incapacitate even the oldest vampire long enough for you to escape."

Violet hesitantly took the dagger, feeling its surprising lightness and perfect balance. The handle seemed to warm to her touch, as though recognizing her bloodline. "You're giving me a weapon that could harm you?"

"I'm giving you the means to protect yourself," Austin corrected gently. "From any threat—including me, should the need ever arise."

The implication sent a chill down Violet's spine. "I would never use this against you."

"And I pray you'll never have cause to," Austin replied, his voice solemn. "But the hunger that drives my kind can sometimes overwhelm even the strongest will. I need to know you can defend yourself, Violet. It would destroy me to be the instrument of your harm."

Violet carefully rewrapped the dagger in its velvet cloth. "Thank you for your honesty," she said softly. "And for trusting me with this."

Austin's expression softened, the worry in his eyes giving way to something warmer. "Trust is rare in my world. Perhaps that's why I value it so highly when I find it."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the dangers surrounding them seemed to recede. The air between them charged with an unspoken intensity. Violet could feel her heart racing, the sound of its beating loud in her ears, a reminder of the fundamental difference between them. She wondered if Austin could hear it too—this thunderous rhythm that betrayed her emotions.

"You should rest," Austin said finally, breaking the silence that had stretched between them. "Tomorrow we begin your education in earnest."

"Education?" Violet asked, her fingers still tracing the outline of the velvet-wrapped dagger.

Austin nodded, his expression serious yet tinged with warmth. "If you are to survive in this world you've been thrust into, you must understand its rules, its dangers, and how to navigate them. No more half-measures or partial truths."

"Will you teach me to defend myself as well?" Violet asked, surprising herself with her boldness.

A smile tugged at the corner of Austin's mouth. "Yes. Though I hope you'll never need to use such skills."

As Violet prepared to leave, Austin suddenly stilled, his head tilting slightly as if listening to something beyond human hearing. His posture tensed, shoulders squaring as his eyes darted to the window.

"What is it?" Violet whispered, instinctively clutching the dagger closer.

"Someone is on the grounds," Austin replied, his voice low and controlled. "Someone who doesn't belong here."

Moving with preternatural speed, he crossed to the window, peering out into the darkness. Violet followed more slowly, the hairs on the back of her neck rising with apprehension.

In the moonlit garden below, a shadowy figure darted between the hedgerows, moving with deliberate purpose toward the east wing of the manor.

"Stay here," Austin commanded, already heading for the door. "Lock it behind me."

"But—"

"Please, Violet," he insisted, his eyes softening briefly as they met hers. "I cannot focus on the threat if I'm worried about your safety."

Reluctantly, she nodded. Austin paused at the threshold, his hand on the doorknob. "If I don't return within the hour, there's a hidden passage behind the bookcase in your room. The third volume of Shakespeare's sonnets triggers the mechanism. It leads to a tunnel that will take you to the stables. Pembroke will know what to do."

Before she could respond, he was gone, the door closing quietly behind him. Violet turned the key in the lock with trembling fingers, then returned to the window, straining to catch sight of either Austin or the intruder in the darkness below.

***

Minutes stretched like hours as she waited, clutching the silver dagger and watching the garden with unwavering attention. The moon slid behind a cloud, plunging the grounds into deeper darkness. When it emerged again, Violet gasped.

Two figures grappled at the edge of the formal garden, their movements too swift for human eyes to follow clearly. Austin and the intruder were locked in combat, their forms blurring with inhuman speed as they crashed through the carefully tended rosebushes. Even from this distance, Violet could see the glint of metal—a blade catching moonlight as it arced through the air. Austin dodged with fluid grace, but the attacker was skilled, matching his movements with practiced precision. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she pressed closer to the glass, desperate to see more clearly. The intruder wore dark clothing and a hood that obscured their features, but there was something familiar about their movements—calculated, trained, almost ritualistic.

As she watched, the attacker produced something from within their cloak—a small glass vial that glowed with an eerie blue light. They hurled it at Austin, who barely managed to evade it. The vial shattered against a stone bench, releasing a cloud of luminescent vapor that seemed to cling to the air. Austin stumbled back from the cloud, his movements suddenly less fluid, as if the very air had thickened around him. The attacker pressed their advantage, driving Austin toward the edge of the garden where the shadows were deepest. Violet's fingers tightened around the silver dagger. She had promised to stay here, to remain safe—but how could she hide while Austin fought for both their lives? Decision made, she unlocked the study door and slipped into the corridor, the dagger clutched tightly in her hand.

The manor was eerily silent as she made her way through it, servants either asleep or wisely staying out of sight. She knew the quickest route to the garden—through the conservatory with its wall of glass doors that opened onto the terrace. As she hurried through the dimly lit rooms, a floorboard creaked beneath her foot. Violet froze, listening intently for any sign she'd been heard. The silence stretched, broken only by the distant sounds of the struggle outside. She pressed on, moving more carefully now.

The conservatory was bathed in moonlight, the exotic plants casting strange, twisted shadows across the floor. Through the glass doors, Violet could see the garden more clearly. Austin was on the defensive, moving with less of his usual grace. Whatever had been in that vial had affected him, slowing his reactions. She slipped through the doors onto the terrace, the cool night air raising goosebumps on her skin. From here, she could hear the combat—grunts of exertion, the whistle of a blade cutting through air, the impact of blows that would have killed a human.

"Your protection of the girl is admirable, vampire," the attacker called, voice muffled by a mask but unmistakably male.

"But ultimately futile," the attacker added, drawing a second blade from beneath his cloak.

Austin's face contorted with rage. "You will not touch her," he snarled, his voice deeper than Violet had ever heard it—almost unrecognizable.

The attacker lunged forward with both blades, his movements precise and deadly. "The Order has decreed her fate. The last Everly must fulfill her purpose."

Something in Austin snapped. Violet watched in horror as his entire demeanor transformed. His elegant, controlled movements gave way to something primal and vicious. His eyes, normally a striking blue, blazed with an unholy crimson light that cut through the darkness. His lips pulled back in a feral snarl, revealing fangs that seemed to elongate before her eyes. With a roar that sounded more beast than man, Austin moved with blinding speed. He caught the attacker's wrist mid-strike, and the sickening crack of breaking bone echoed across the garden. The man screamed, but the sound was cut short as Austin's hand clamped around his throat.

"You dare?" Austin growled, his voice guttural and distorted. "You dare threaten what is mine?"

Violet pressed a hand to her mouth, frozen in place as the scene unfolded. This was not the Austin she knew—the refined, controlled immortal who spoke of poetry and played piano with delicate grace. This was something ancient and terrible, a predator unleashed. The attacker struggled, kicking and slashing with his remaining blade, but Austin seemed beyond feeling pain. With one fluid movement, he tore the mask away, revealing a young man with ritual scars marking his face.

"We are... legion," the young man gasped, still struggling despite his crushed windpipe. "Kill me... and ten more... will come."

Austin's lips curled into a terrible smile. "Then I shall start with you."

What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Austin's hand plunged into the man's chest with horrifying ease, tearing through fabric, flesh, and bone. Blood sprayed across the garden path, black in the moonlight. The attacker's eyes widened in shock and agony as Austin withdrew his hand, clutching something dark and pulsing.

Rook's heart.

Violet's scream died in her throat as Austin crushed the organ in his fist, blood seeping between his fingers like crimson wine. The attacker's body convulsed once before going limp, eyes fixed in an eternal stare of horror. Austin stood motionless, blood dripping from his hand, his chest heaving with unnecessary breath. As Violet stared at the gruesome scene unfolding before her, her legs finally unlocked from their frozen state. She stumbled backward, her foot catching on the edge of a decorative stone, sending her tumbling to the ground with a soft cry. The sound, though barely audible to human ears, caught Austin's attention immediately.

His head snapped toward her, blood still dripping from his clenched fist, his face transformed into something barely recognizable. Those crimson eyes, burning with primal rage, fixed on her with an intensity that stole her breath. For an eternal moment, Violet saw nothing of the man she had come to care for—only the predator that lurked beneath his carefully maintained facade.

"Austin?" she whispered, her voice trembling as she scrambled backward, the silver dagger clutched in her shaking hand.

The sound of his name seemed to pierce through the bloodlust that had consumed him. Austin blinked, the crimson glow in his eyes flickering like a candle caught in a draft. Horror dawned across his features as awareness returned, his gaze moving from Violet's terrified face to the mutilated corpse at his feet, to his own blood-soaked hand.

"Violet," he breathed, his voice hoarse and broken. "You shouldn't... you weren't supposed to see..."

He took a halting step toward her, then stopped as he registered the fear in her eyes, the defensive posture, the way she gripped the silver dagger he had given her. Understanding crashed over him like a wave of ice water. She had seen everything—the savagery, the inhuman strength, the monstrous rage he had spent centuries learning to control, all unleashed in one moment of blind fury.

"Please," he whispered, extending a hand toward her before noticing it was still coated in gore. He quickly withdrew it, wiping it against his ruined jacket with shaking movements. "Violet…”

A cool breeze swept through the garden, carrying the metallic scent of blood toward her. Violet's stomach churned as reality crashed over her in merciless waves. The silver dagger felt impossibly heavy in her hand.

"You tore out his heart," she managed, each word a struggle against her constricting throat.

Austin's gaze dropped to the mutilated corpse at his feet. "He came for you. He would have taken you to The Order to be sacrificed." His voice hardened slightly. "I would destroy a thousand hearts to keep you safe."

The raw conviction in his words stole what little breath remained in Violet's lungs. Despite the horror of what she'd witnessed, something deep within her recognized the terrible truth in his declaration. The man before her—blood-soaked and monstrous as he appeared—had killed to protect her. Would kill again without hesitation.

"I understand what you did," she whispered, slowly lowering the dagger to her side, though not relinquishing her grip entirely. "But seeing you like this..."

Austin remained perfectly still, as if afraid the slightest movement might shatter the fragile moment between them. In the moonlight, his face was a study in ancient sorrow.

"This is what I am, Violet," he said, his voice hollow with resignation. "I've tried to shield you from it, to present a more... palatable version of myself. But the monster you saw tonight has always existed beneath the surface."

Violet took a tentative step forward, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Is that why you've never..." She couldn't finish the question, but Austin understood.

"Why I've never fed from you?" A bitter smile twisted his lips. "Yes. The taste of your blood would be... intoxicating. Perhaps too much so. I feared losing control."

"Like tonight," she whispered.

"Worse," he admitted, his gaze dropping to the ground between them. "Much worse."

Silence stretched between them, filled only with the soft rustling of leaves in the night breeze. The corpse at Austin's feet was a stark reminder of the violence his kind was capable of—violence he had unleashed without hesitation

"What do we do?" Violet asked, straightening her spine with newfound resolve.

Austin's eyes widened slightly, surprise evident in his features. "You're still willing to stay with me? After what you've seen?"

Violet glanced at the body, then back to Austin's blood-stained figure. "I'm afraid," she admitted honestly. "But I'd be a fool to think I'd be safer without you."

Austin's expression softened, relief washing over his features like dawn breaking after the longest night. “I will wake Pembrooke. He will know what do with the clean up.” Austin knelt beside the corpse, examining something on the man's wrist—a small tattoo of a flame encircled by thorns. "Brother Rook was ambitious but inexperienced. His superiors will likely assume he acted alone, driven by eagerness to prove himself. We will be safe from further attacks here for now. However, I will double the security measures.”

Violet watched as Austin methodically searched the dead man's clothing, retrieving several small vials similar to the one that had been thrown earlier.

"What are those?" she asked, cautiously moving closer.

"Weapons designed specifically against my kind," Austin replied, carefully collecting the vials. "This one," he indicated a vial filled with clear liquid, "contains distilled sunlight—capable of burning vampire flesh on contact. This," he held up another with amber contents, "paralyzes us temporarily." He pocketed the items and rose to his feet. “We should head back inside. I hate to wake the servants, but I need a bath and some clean garments.”

"I can call for Beth to prepare a bath for you," Violet said softly, her eyes meeting his. She hesitated, her heart racing with a boldness she hadn't known she possessed. A strange warmth spread through her chest as she looked at him—this powerful being who had unleashed such violence to protect her.

"Actually," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "perhaps I could... help you." Her cheeks flushed crimson as the words left her lips. "To wash away the blood, I mean. As a small token of my gratitude for what you've done tonight."

Austin stared at her, momentarily stunned by her offer. His eyes, now returned to their natural blue, widened slightly. "Violet, you don't need to—"

"I want to," she interrupted, her voice stronger despite the nervous trembling of her hands. "Please, Austin."

He studied her face, searching for any sign of reluctance or fear. Finding only determination beneath her obvious nervousness, he nodded slowly. "Very well."

Stay tuned for part 13!! Click HERE to view!

Taglist: @buckysteveloki-me @imusicaddict

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