#Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

[rippersz]

𝘍𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴

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(Lilia Calderu x Fem!Witchy!Reader) (NSFW Themes; Mostly fluff) (~9.1k words)

You are Lilia Calderu's roommate. You celebrate Christmas. Also, you are so undeniably, completely, totally, hopelessly, unbelievably (but also very believably) in love with her. Poor you.

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You wanted her. 

You wanted her so bad. 

Since the very day you met her, you wanted her. 

You wanted to hold her hand. You wanted to kiss her. You wanted to wake up next to her. 

Was that a crazy thing to say? A crazy thing to think? To want your boss/roommate like you wanted your boss/roommate? Maybe. Probably. But no one ever said matters of the heart led down a road of sanity—so how on Earth could you be blamed? 

Short answer: You couldn’t.

Not when the woman you wanted was as wise, as intelligent, as kooky, as beautiful, as charming as Lilia Murgo Calderu. An interpreter of the divine - and to you, all divine within herself. 

Even when she’d just woken up, dreams still swimming behind her eyes, orange slippers on her feet as she shuffled around the kitchen. Even when she took her time brewing tea, fixing her hair, humming quietly to herself. Even when she looked up to acknowledge you with a good morning and a lazy wave of her hand, to which you always responded with a smile and a chuckle because honestly you found her early-morning demeanour to be quite endearing. Even with the bags under her hazel eyes and the exhaustion of a terrible night weighing on her shoulders. Even when she rarely slept peacefully and then spent the entire next day getting lost within her thoughts. Even when she screamed in her sleep, cried out for help, yelped from a phantom pain. You ran to her on those nights, practically flying out of your room to find her tossing and turning in her bed, and always stumbled in the dark over to her side. Even when she was overtaken by nightmares, by visions and ‘possessions’, by people speaking through her and people speaking to her. Even then, when she was at her most volatile, with golden wicks of magic sparking along her knuckles and her fingertips, still harnessing power in her dreams, you scrambled to take her hands. To hold them gently. To pry them from their fists and smooth them with your touches.

“Lilia,” you’d whisper, heart pounding and touch soft, “Lilia you have to wake up now, you’re going to hurt yourself sweetheart.” And by then, she’d already be mid-gasp, shooting up in bed, looking around the room wildly before settling on you. 

Always you. Always at her side. Always willing to help. Her assistant, her roommate, the young woman everyone saw her around town with. The one who, perhaps, understood her more than anyone ever had before. 

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“Oooo,” you smiled, led by your nose through the door that separated the front of the shop from the back of the flat, whisked along easily by the smell of food. “This looks amazing..” 

The spoon poised to the right of the stove, already dirty with the tomato and meat from the cooking pasta, was quickly picked up by your hand and dipped back into the pot. 

“Lilia you are a godsend,” you whispered to yourself, bringing the spoon (heaped with bolognese) up to your mouth, already closing your eyes before anything could land on your tongue. 

“Aht!” A sharp voice cut through your bliss, followed by a small smack and sting on the back of your knuckles as the devil herself walked up to your side and hip-bumped you away from the stove. “No tasting before it’s ready!” She scolded, taking the spoon right out of your hold and pushing it back into the pasta to stir.

“Hey!” You protested instantly, lightly shoving her back as you pressed yourself to her side and looked over the pot. She was warm, soft, and you felt your heart jump at the scent of her bourbon and wildflower perfume. “Gimme some now,” you teased, reaching over her for the spoon. 

“Can’t you wait for five minutes!?” Lilia said loudly, shooting you a glare out of the corner of her eye as she moved her body and elbowed you away again. 

“Ow- that hurt!” You cradled your belly. It didn’t, not at all, but you loved to add fuel to the fire. 

Unfortunately, the fire had all the fuel she needed. “Good!” Lilia quipped, putting the spoon back into place in its holder, “I’m glad!” 

You tried hard to hide the smile on your lips and the desperate giggles that wanted to fly out, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

“So mean to me…,” came your laughter-laden lament as you moved to the table in the centre of the room. “Making me set the table, too.” You shook your head and let out a sigh that was much too loud, exaggerating the mope in your shoulders and the dragging of your feet while you moved around the room to get bowls and cutlery. “This is illegal, I think.” 

A snort came from the stove, making you glance up just in time to see the smirk on red lips before she turned her head away to the spice cabinet. “Oh yeah? Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters?” 

“The police.” You set the bowls down quietly and gave her a scoffing ‘duh’ to follow up. 

“Oh please.” Lilia shook her head, sending grey and silver curls swishing around her neck, “The police will take one look at you and give you back.” 

You paused at the drawer, a fork already in your hand, and whipped around with a gasp. “Did you just call me ugly?” You looked quite affronted, mouth agape, eyebrows furrowed, one foot already pointed out to tap rapidly on the floor. 

“Is that what I said?” She shot back, spinning in her place to give you a look in return. Eyebrows raised, tone sarcastic, casting beautiful coffee eyes over the length of your body to prove her point. In the face of that gaze, intense in all its flawless effort, you had to control the sudden hot feeling that spread across your cheeks.

“That’s what I gathered,” you pointed out, sheepish beneath the weight of her full attention, and ducked your head to rifle through the drawer, ���And you like to imply things.” You bumped it shut when you found another fork. 

“Oh yeah?” Lilia huffed. “Well you like to accuse. So put that in your pipe.”

“And smoke it.” You spat, smiling.

“Exactly!” 

The two of you laughed, creating a joyful harmony as you finished setting up the table and went to turn down some of the lights. Lilia, in the meanwhile, added the finishing touches to the pasta and donned tarot-themed oven mitts (which you gifted her last year for Christmas after her others were accidentally set on fire) to carry the pot to its trivet. 

“Careful,” came your soft call as you double-checked the lock on the flat door. 

“Hmm,” Lilia hummed, slipping the mitts off and throwing them on the countertop. “Come sit, I’m starving.” 

“Shoulda cooked earlier then,” you teased, practically skipping over to the table to pull out her chair. 

“Shoulda, coulda, woulda,” she waved her hand and rolled her eyes before taking her seat, falling into your familiar routine.

It was your pleasure, above anything and everything else in life, to make Lilia Calderu’s days as smooth and bright as possible. You made breakfast, you helped clean up, you always pulled out her chair for her and always beat her to the dishes, and at night, you turned down the lights before heading off to your own room. It was small, decorated to suit you, and totally unnecessary. You’d insisted in the beginning of your stay that Lilia have it instead, because it had a door and was less open-spacey, but she brushed it off and said that she was already comfortable in her little pull-out bed. You didn’t enjoy the thought of it, not with the way her back hurt sometimes, but it was nothing a good spot of healing tea couldn’t fix—or so she claimed. You also learned early on that Lilia was neat, careful, and entirely against rushing. She did not like to rush. Nor did she like to argue, or raise her voice when angry, or get angry in the first place. And she didn’t like sleeping in too much and she didn’t like cold showers and she didn’t like when you didn’t respond to her texts (which happened maybe two times and both times you got an earful). But you never minded the things she didn’t like. You made sure to work on time-management, to avoid rushing, and you never got angry with her, only frustrated, and you never yelled at her (because you were quite sure that you’d rather be stabbed then ever do so), and you woke her up before her late alarm and only let her sleep in if she had a rough night, and you never used too much of the hot water, and you kept your phone ringer on whenever you left the shop, and all of the things she needed you to make space for, you did. You gave her privacy, you gave her an ear, a shoulder, you gave her gifts and you gave her attention and you gave her banter and jokes and stability and routine and beneath it all, every time you smiled at her, every time you both sat down in the armchairs to read your books, every time you stayed up late to listen to her rant about the world’s offences against witches, you were also giving her your heart. 

Happily, gladly, giving her your heart. 

“My compliments to the chef,” you grinned as you took your spot opposite her, putting your napkin on your lap as though you were in a fancy restaurant. 

“Mm, let me know if it’s too salty,” she ran her tongue over her teeth before grabbing your bowl, sliding it closer, and starting to dish up. 

You couldn’t help the way you looked at her, keeping one elbow on the table, holding your chin with the cup of your hand, admiring the way she moved. There was a specialness to it, a gracefulness found only in someone like Lilia. Even the way she put homemade pasta into your bowl, even the way she gave you a hefty helping, to make sure you ate properly, and even the way she slid it back to you with a small smile. The way the dim lights darkened her eyes, the way she focused on her own food, the way she shifted to get comfortable. 

Your heart felt just about ready to burst from your chest. 

“It’s perfect,” was the only thing you could say after you had your first bite; a common phrase in your combined household because Lilia was a fantastic cook. 

“Eh. Not bad,” she shrugged, but after her first bowl was finished, you smirked as you watched her grab another helping. 

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At first, living together was a bit awkward. 

You were still a juvenile witch, having learned as much as you could from your previous mentor before she suggested Lilia as a continued source of help; and the last thing you expected when stumbling into Madame Calderu’s for the first time was the key to a future filled with the best of fortunes. You never got your palm read, never had her look into a crystal ball for you and pretend to know dead relatives, but still you were certain—your future was the best future one could have. There was a roof over your head, food at your table, books at your fingertips, and Lilia Calderu at your side. There was nothing more to want. 

Though in the beginning, that wasn’t the case. 

You tiptoed around her as though you were scared she was going to smite you down with all the power of the Divine Mother if you stepped out of line. You were the quietest, kindest, most endearing soul you could ever be—all in an effort to avoid being thrown out on your ass. But when you recognised Lilia’s way of living, how some larger part of her didn’t seem to really mind your presence at all, you began to settle. You lingered in shared spaces, you asked both the boring and exciting questions, and the tension in your shoulders faded. Sleeping came easier, smiling was instinct, and when you heard Lilia laugh at one of your jokes for the first time, you knew there was nothing in the world that could take you away from her home. 

Her home which eventually became yours, but which would always be hers no matter what she claimed. 

It was Lilia’s flat, your presence. 

It was Lilia’s life, you tagging along. 

It was Lilia’s heart, you left at the outskirts, mingling with the other acquaintances and friends (not that there were many, but still. Not in the inner circle of Lilia’s Inferno.) 

And in your life, in your heart, she was at the very centre, embedded in everything you did. 

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“Merry Christmas!!” Your excited yell bounced off the walls, obnoxiously loud and announcing your entrance before you skated into the living room in fuzzy socks and holiday-themed pyjamas. 

The only answer that greeted you was a low gravelly groan, muffled by the press of Lilia’s face into her sheets. And on top of her head, squishing her beloved curls? A pillow. 

“Wake up now, Madame Calderu! It’s time to celebrate!” You sang, taking in the air of your shared flat. 

It was decorated beautifully, with lights along the cabinets, a fake purple tree in the corner, and other little festive trinkets you found in thrift shops, dotted around any flat surface there was. Dancing snowmen, a penguin with an ‘I love you’ sign (a symbol of your devotion, as subtle as you could make it), two stockings hung on the wall beside the tree, each of your initials sewn into the fabric. And on the tree itself? Colour-changing lights, baubles and plastic decor, some in the shapes of stars, others in the shapes of the moon’s phases, a few depicting typical witchy symbols (a hat, a little witch on a broom, two that were painted like tarot cards. The Lovers and The World.) Beneath it, there was a red and white tree skirt, fuzzy and dotted with little purple faux-pines, and on top of that, forming a little neat pile, were a few gift-wrapped presents. It was the most wonderful, heart-warming, heart-wrenching thing you had ever seen. You could spot the ones you picked out for Lilia, the gifts you spent so long thinking about, and noticed a few days before Christmas morning that she had matched each one with a wrapped present of her own. The contrast couldn’t have been more obvious; hers were all clad in some shimmery blue iridescent paper you’d never seen before in your life and yours were dressed up in a matte red and brown pattern that repeated the scene of a little bear in a Santa hat reading a book. 

You didn’t expect the presents to be there, in fact you didn’t really expect anything from her at all, and yet there they sat, adding to your pile of four. Four gifts for her and then, because she really was the softest person at heart, four gifts for you. As a thank you that evening, you’d made dinner - sweet potato chilli and slices of fresh bread. She loved it, but still you felt that a simple meal wasn’t a big enough show of gratitude. 

Christmas morning pancakes, however, would make a stunning addition to the ‘thank you’ list, especially as they were Lilia’s favourite. Two with chocolate chips and two with blueberries (though you always made at least one extra of each just in case). And beside that, a mug of herbal tea and beside that, a mug of hot chocolate. You were dead silent as you worked, trying hard to give the resident witch at least a few more minutes of peaceful sleep before you woke her up for a proper celebration. It was hard to contain the excitement, the lightning in your veins as you anticipated the rest of the day. The company, the warmth, the movies you’d watch, the books you’d read. The shop was closed, partly because the roads were full of unpaved snow, but also because you were not going to be waiting for customers on Christmas Day. You wouldn’t allow it, and eventually Lilia agreed. It was unlikely anyone would go looking for a palm reading anyway, not in that chill. Plus they all had other things to do as well, like spend time with family and cuddle up with their kids and their lovers and hold their wives and drink wine with their lovers and their wives and eat biscuits with their wives and kiss their wives and open gifts with their beautiful wives and ugh! Well. 

There were still gifts to open, gifts that you’d cherish no matter what they were. Even if Lilia got you the most basic things, like socks or a new body lotion or a water bottle, you’d wear them every day, you’d put it all over your hands, you’d never drink from anything else ever again. To even be in her busy head enough to receive a gift felt like an honour, and that was such a strange sentiment for someone you loved, putting her on a pedestal, but you were past the point of caring. Lilia Calderu was no perfect woman, you knew that more than anyone, but she wasn’t trying to be. Her kindness was taught, learned, maintained, and you weren’t sure which Gods you pleased enough to deserve it, but not a day went by where her care was overlooked. So all you could do was return the favour. 

“Merry Christmas indeed,” came a sudden rumbling purr over your shoulder, husky with sleep and tinged with amusement as Lilia shuffled her way up to the counter. 

You gave her a glance, taking in the robe around her shoulders, the colourful pattern of her nightgown, the slippers on her feet, and the sweet smirk on her lips, and could only smile when the heavy weight of her head leaned itself against your shoulder. Her curls tickled your neck a little, tied up as they were, but you had no complaints. She was warm, comforting, and still a bit tired. You would always be her headrest if that’s what she needed.

“Did you sleep well?” It was compulsory for you to ask, a habit you fell into as soon as you felt comfortable in the flat. Checking on Lilia was a common occurrence, though you only asked about sleep after she went through the night without waking up in a fit. The evening before had been quiet, so you had high hopes.

“Like a babe. What about you?” And that was the typical response, bringing a soft smile to your lips as you slid the mug of tea over to her. 

“Likewise, though I fell asleep to a delightful little playlist called Lilia’s snoring.” 

She gasped. “How dare you? I do not snore.” Wide coffee eyes looked at you, shocked, and one hand, devoid of decorative rings, playfully swiped at your arm. “Maybe you were hearing your own.” Lilia sassed before she hid her growing smirk behind her mug.

“Oh yeah right,” you rolled your eyes, moving away to shimmy the last pancake onto the small stack. “Let’s just go with that.” 

Lilia snorted and took her chance then to dip into the bathroom, still intent on completing her morning routine before eating. You got to setting the table, putting the pancakes on each plate and the rest on a separate one off to the side, placing Lilia’s favourite fork and knife beside her dish (they were made for her a while ago, complete with engraved gems and smoothed symbols, the only surviving two out of a full set), and completed the table with your mugs. It looked a bit romantic, as it always did when it was just the two of you sitting at your little kitchen table, but over the course of your time together, neither of you mentioned it. Once, in the beginning of your routine, you lit a candle and placed it in the centre of the table arrangement, and promptly promised yourself never to do so again. For as soon as Lilia sat down, embraced by the flame’s flickering light and short warmth, you felt your cheeks grow hot. She looked unbelievably handsome that evening, meeting smouldering eyes over the candlelight, showing off the shadows of her wizened face, and you were overcome with the distinct desire to lunge across the table and kiss her senseless. 

Fortunately for your friendship, you never did. And unfortunately for your friendship, the urge to do so only got worse. From kissing to holding, from holding to loving, from loving to fucking. You couldn’t help yourself, couldn’t control the flutter of your heart, but there was nothing to be done. Lilia was your roommate, your mentor, the woman who laughed with you and cried with you and consoled you when you were on your period and needed a shoulder. She wasn’t the woman you kissed or the woman you held or the woman you fucked and in all seriousness, you knew that she probably never would be. And although that thought came with its own sense of pain, its own sorrow and bone-breaking ache, it was also followed by relief. If you weren’t close enough for that, then you weren’t close enough to break each other’s hearts. So there was no need to fear, no need to worry, and if ever there came a day where Lilia found someone to be with her for good, then you would be happy. You would be happy. For her, for the woman you found yourself loving, you would be happy.

And speak of the witch, the sound of the bathroom door creaking open, followed by soft footsteps, broke you out of your staring contest with the counter. 

“Thank you for breakfast,” she said airily, fresh-faced with a small bit of makeup, a spritz of perfume, and a better style for her unruly curls. You nodded, almost in a bow, as you slid her seat out for her and gently pushed her back in. 

“It’s always my pleasure. Especially today.” You knew your eyes were shining, pouring with Christmas glee, but Lilia didn’t seem to mind the excitement. 

Ever since the beginning of December rolled around, she’d been happy to help you decorate. She took the time to hang lights with you, standing on the tips of her toes to give you the string as you circled it around the tree, then she spent the second evening of her December dotting it with decorations, inspecting the ornaments and baubles as she went, and she even bought a wreath to hang from the inside of the front door. You felt as though your heart was going to crawl out of your chest, it was so full of light and love. And at the end of the evening, when she affixed the Triple Goddess’ symbol to the top of your purple tree instead of an angel, and whispered a quick, happy, “Four of Wands” to you when she settled back on her feet, you couldn’t help but wrap her up in a hug. If that’s what her heart told her, if that’s what the divine whispered, an upright Four of Wands, then who were you to dictate? The higher powers were more right that evening than they had ever been before: in that moment, everything was Four of Wands. 

And while you ate a silent breakfast across from Lilia Calderu, enjoying the warmth and taste of your meal, taking in the slight chill of the morning and the beautiful image of her lounging in her nightie and robe, everything felt like Four of Wands all over again.

“You know I didn’t expect you to get me anything,” you finally murmured, hiding your eyes as you sipped from your mug. “It wasn’t supposed to be an eye for an eye sort of thing.” 

Lilia finished her bite, licked the side of her mouth, and raised an eyebrow. “So you expected me to be the only one opening gifts on Christmas morning? I don’t even celebrate Christmas. Why would I leave you empty handed?” 

You shrugged, already feeling the beginnings of warmth taking over your cheeks. You knew she didn’t celebrate - and technically you weren’t inclined to do so either, but the holiday cheer always got to you. And she had been so patient, going along with your joy. “I just assumed- I dunno…. We didn’t do it for each other the past two years, and exactly. You don’t celebrate. So I hope you know that just because I got you things-”

“Wait wait wait wait, stop right there.” Lilia cut you off, waving her hands a little bit, forcing your avoidant eyes from your plate up to her face. Her expression was strange, serious mixed with a distinct shadow of outrage, brick-red lips set into a frown; but behind her chocolate eyes? All you could see was warmth. “Before you even go any further, I’ll have you know that I did not feel obligated to get you Christmas presents just because you got some for me, and I certainly didn’t do it because I felt sympathetic.” 

You opened your mouth, ready to interrupt, but were quickly shut down by a held-up palm and a stern look. Your jaw clicked shut.

“I did it because I wanted to.” She held your eyes. “I did it because I didn’t want you to be celebrating alone and although it has been a long time since I last celebrated the holidays, I have to tell you that this has been very nice.” Lilia nodded at you, her lips tilting up into a smile, and she watched with delight as you couldn’t help but mirror it. “It’s been nice, right?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, resisting the urge to shyly duck away, “yeah it’s been nice.” 

“And that is precisely why I did it. Because this is the kind of atmosphere every home should have,” she spread her hands out, breaking away to look around your living room with pride and care, taking in the purposefully mis-coloured tree, the lights and ornaments, the gifts, the holiday trinkets, the stockings, the sight of your books mixed with her books in the shelf, your shoes next to her shoes by the front door, your notes stuck to the fridge, your handwriting on the wall calendar, the TV you bought a little while ago, the paintings you hung up, the food that you made for her and dished for her and placed beside her favourite knife and fork, the drinks you prepared, the look in your eyes… And when she brought her attention back to you then, you almost cracked right in half when she leaned forward as though she were going to tell you a secret and said, in a playful whisper with a smirk on her face, “And there is no other person I would rather celebrate with.” 

You were so thankful she couldn’t read minds. 

“Okay?” She nodded as a reassurance and you returned it without hesitation. 

“Okay. Thank you…,” you breathed, shuddery and annoying, so out of tune, but when she looked at you in the way she did, when she spoke so gently, so firmly, you simply weren’t sure how you could’ve regained your footing sooner. “I- I appreciate it.” 

“I know you do,” Lilia was smug as she leaned back in her seat and crossed one leg over the other while she finished her breakfast.

“Shut up.” 

The response you got was a near-silent huff of laughter. 

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“Okay! Stocking first or presents?” 

You stood in the middle of the room and Lilia sat in the blue armchair, nursing another brewed mug of hot chocolate. You hadn’t taken the chance to change, insisting that Christmas morning gifts were always unwrapped while still in your pyjamas, and Lilia had inclined her head to tell you that the reins were yours before she got cuddled into her seat.

“Let’s start with the big guns. Presents.” 

You nodded, still managing to somehow follow orders, and swiftly crouched beneath the tree, then carefully picked up all four gifts for Lilia and shuffled back to her on your knees. 

“Your gifts, m’lady.” 

“Why thank you,” she smiled, looked down at you with those heavy-lidded eyes, stroking the fire in your heart, and put her mug off to the side before holding her hands out and taking the wrapped presents into her lap. They weren’t very big, one of them wasn’t even a box, so she had no trouble balancing as you quickly turned around to grab your own. 

“Right,” once you were settled at her feet on the floor, cross-legged and acutely aware of how close you were, you set the boxes down in front of you and clapped your hands. “You go first, then me, then you, then me. Deal?” 

“What if I want you to go first?” One dark eyebrow raised, adding to the wicked pleasure of a dark-lipped smirk, and you instantly tried playing off your fluster with a shrug. 

“Then I will. Is that what you’d like, Madame Calderu?” Only used in moments of teasing, you enjoyed seeing the slight pink that went to Lilia’s cheeks as she heard you use her unofficial official title. Despite it being the name of her shop, it was rare that a customer addressed her as so. In time then, she only came to associate it with you. 

“Yeah, why not,” Lilia shrugged, and you instantly picked up the first gift nearest to you. 

“Can I shake it?” You grinned.

“If you’re interested in breaking things, be my guest.” 

“Mmm, no thank you,” came your little murmur as you carefully (trying to hide your eagerness) undid the wrapping. It was a long box, thin, and as the gift was revealed and the paper fell off to the floor, you felt your heart stutter. Clearly, it was jewellery. And clearly, you had to open it. But the front caught your eye, stalling you, and you took in the small golden cursive L. with interest. “Did you make this?” You whispered, shifting the box to hold it like precious gems. 

“Open it first, ask questions later,” you didn’t have to look up to know she was smiling, so you did what was desired. 

The top came off with little resistance and suddenly you were looking down at a necklace. A familiar necklace. Familiar and yet different. Made of smaller beads with similar colours, more delicate and fitting to your less loud aesthetic, but with the same rectangular shaped pendant in the centre. You nearly folded yourself in half looking closer, feeling your heart in your throat when you recognized that yes, it was like Lilia’s, but it wasn’t meant to be a replica - it was meant to match. Two hands against a white background hovered above and below a sun with an open eye, fitting the same mould, but Lilia’s hands were an iridescent blue-green, the top one pointing down from the right and the bottom pointing palm-up from the left. Yours was in complete contrast. A deep blue background, opal coloured hands, the top one pointing down from the left, the bottom pointing up from the right, and the sun in the middle was not a sun at all but a full moon, painted white, the eye’s iris a dark midnight blue. It was perfect in a way you could not even voice, hand-crafted with so much care, and you looked up at Lilia as though she herself had the bright idea to create the sun and moon and hang them both in the sky. 

“I- this is- Lilia…,” you swallowed, glancing at the necklace resting against her chest before looking down at its partner in your hands. “Holy shit, Lilia.” 

“Here, let me help you put it on.” She flapped her hands to gesture you forward and forward you went, placing the box aside and taking the necklace out with the gentlest touch. When you turned and she slung it around your neck, the jewellery was cold, but her hands were warm, and in seconds you were suddenly matching with the woman you loved. 

“...I feel like I’m part of your coven now,” you whispered while looking down, stroking it with reverence. 

“Ha!” Lilia cackled, her smile brighter than fresh snow in the sun. “You don’t want to be part of my coven, kiddo,” she took a sip of her tea. 

A very mean, insecure voice in the pit of your mind hissed at the sound of that nickname. It always incited a wild, twisting fire inside you. You hated to be reminded of your age, of the differences between you, because it always served as a symbol of what could never be. Coming to terms with unrequited love was one thing, but having the reason why it was unrequited spoken to your face so boldly, even without intent to do so, was a different beast entirely. You could handle the sadness when not reminded of its roots, but a quick ‘kiddo’ or ‘kid’ or reference to age spoken from Lilia’s lips had you instantly defensive. Of course you never showed it, never in front of her, but that didn’t mean the punch to your psyche didn’t hurt like a bitch. 

“Yes, I do.” You insisted, moving the opened box and wrapping paper out of the way. “Of course I do. Lilia Calderu’s coven? Sign me the fuck up right now.” 

She huffed, put her mug down, and turned back to her own gifts. “Shall I?” 

“You shall.” 

The first one she picked up was the squishy one, soft and medium sized, and you delighted in the way her brows furrowed as she pressed it between her fingers. Three seconds later, when the paper was torn off (just as gently as you did it, you noted), a small gasp, followed by a rich laugh, filled the air. 

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Lilia grinned as she picked up the oven mitts and slipped them onto her hands. It was a cute addition to your running joke. Only a few months before that moment, Lilia had somehow accidentally set her old oven mitts on fire. Bright flame and all. It was a miracle how you got there just before the smoke detectors went off and managed to throw the things outside before dousing them in water. They were still on her hands too! You’d nearly had a heart attack, staring at her with eyes so wide it gave you a headache as you ignored the half-charred mitts and held her palms. Lilia insisted she was okay as you inspected them, but she never pulled away and she didn’t protest when you asked her to please run them under cold water for a few minutes. Since then, the only ‘oven mitts’ she had were dish towels and every time you meant to buy replacements, you procrastinated or you forgot. That simply wouldn’t do—thus, the tarot card themed oven mitts she had on her hands, waving them around and pinching her thumb to her fingers with satisfaction. 

“These are lovely. Thank you,” her voice was liquid gold with gratitude as she finally slipped them off and gently set them on the table, giving them a pat for good measure. 

“Yeah, I thought you might have needed some,” you smirked and gladly accepted the small playful slipper-covered kick you got to the knee. “Now my turn again.” 

The next gift was softer than a box, but shaped like one, with a weird hard lump on the front, and once you got the wrapping paper off, your face almost split in half with the width of your smile. 

“This looks so beautiful, oh my god,” your left hand stroked and fiddled with the pendant at your neck, holding it as a newfound comfort while your right hand explored the leather-bound notebook you found in your lap. The lump you felt on the front was a sewn-in gem, coloured gold and orange, and you felt warm with the thought that it reminded you so much of Lilia’s magical tint. “Thank you Lilia.. I promise you it won’t go to waste.” 

Her eyes were shining proudly when you looked up at her, and you noticed the quick glance away from your collarbone to the book in your lap. She must have thought the necklace was just as beautiful as you did. 

“It better not, or I’ll take it back,” she teased, humming a soft sound of agreement as you marvelled at the fraying, fabric pages. 

“No chance. Now open your next one, please.” The notebook was gently set aside after you re-clasped the metal hinge. 

As Lilia picked up one of the smaller boxes, harder than the oven mitts, and began unwrapping, you briefly wondered about what you were going to put in the new journal. There were no lines, so it was perfect for sketching, but at the same time you hadn’t kept a diary in so long and it was the perfect opportunity, accompanied by the most perfect feeling. Making use of something a loved one had given you. And you would make use of it, without a doubt you would. 

“Is this a book of spells?” Lilia asked, turning the little brown book over in her hands with a furrowed brow and a confused smile. 

You straightened up and shuffled closer to her knees, practically putting your chin in her lap when you excitedly reached up to hold it open for her. “That’s exactly what it is, yes. I had to get a bit of help from Elise, but…,” you bit your lip, suddenly shy at all the effort you’d put into contacting your mentor. She agreed to help because she loved you, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t teased, and as you looked up at Lilia then, staring into dark enchanting eyes, you felt a blush roll over your cheeks. “...It’s um- it’s little obscure spells. For like cleaning and mending and things. I think there’s one in there for even stitching stars? Just stars? And a few others. Shining copper, cleaning lipstick off of glass…,” you trailed off, watching as Lilia hummed and took the book from you again. 

She took a moment to flip through the pages and read the small descriptions, taking the time to react to each one in kind. And when she got to the end, going a bit faster in her perusing, she suddenly stopped. You paused just as she paused and watched, with confusion, as her eyebrows promptly shot up.

“You think I need an.. ‘overstimulating orgasm’?” 

….

“Excuse me?” 

You went still. 

Lilia’s eyes bounced from you to the page and back again before she turned it around on her lap, nonverbally forcing you to read it. 

And there, in your mentor’s handwriting, were the cursive words, “Spell for a Very Special Feeling”. 

And beneath it, in smaller print:

‘Do your wrists ever get tired? Your hands? Are you eager for a satisfying night in? A chance to really release your frustrations without doing the work yourself? I know just the spell.

Completing the steps below will result in a release like no other. It will burn, it will feel painful, but the pleasure will override the ache and in no time at all, you will find yourself feeling delightfully… overstimulated. No tiring hours of doing it yourself! No chickening out! Give it a try maybe once. Or twice. As many times as your body can take.’ 

And a diagram showing hand movements, followed by a chant to go along with it. 

That motherfucker!

“Judging by your expression, I’m guessing you didn’t look through this thoroughly before you wrapped it for me?” Lilia smirked, cheeks growing pinker the longer you stared at the writing in complete and utter shock. 

It took you a good second to react and then another two seconds to respond. You were quick to reach out and grab the book, wanting to look through it properly to avoid any other utterly embarrassing miscommunications, but Lilia yanked it back before you could. 

“Too late,” she shook her head, and you floundered. 

“N-no! That is not supposed to say that, I swear. I would never- that- Elise wrote them all! I approved them! I don’t even know how- why-” 

Lilia raised one of her palms, cutting your sentence right in half, and you fell quiet as she smiled. 

“She must’ve slipped it in. I think she’s trying to tell me something,” the book went flipping back and forth between her palms and you sighed. 

“I’m really sorry about that, oh my god. It was just supposed to be a cute little gift.” 

“And it is,” Lilia insisted, snapping the book shut with a smirk. “Don’t feel embarrassed. It’s only natural.” You felt something in you shiver when she winked and desperately tried pulling yourself together when she turned to put the little book on the side table. 

Dwelling on the moment, now matter how enticing the idea sounded, was not a very good decision to make. You couldn’t afford to get distracted or blush too hard, but dear lord it seemed to be an impossible feat - especially with the image of Lilia in your head. Panting, blushing, hands gripping her sheets… the same hands, soft hands, with delicate wrinkles and perfect nails, just the right length and just the right width and so deceptively strong, no matter how feminine they seemed… the same hands she used to do her sewing, her cooking, her readings, her hair… the same hands she used to thread two fingers through the curve of her mug’s handle… oh in much the same way you wished they could curve into- no. 

No. 

You wrenched your eyes away, declining the draw of lust, and picked up the next gift on autopilot. As you tried emptying your head, the wrapping paper fell apart under your wandering hands, and soon you were staring down at what seemed to be a box of tarot cards. A very unique box of tarot cards with unique drawings, sequences, and detailing - art nouveau inspired. One of your favourites. 

“I don’t have this set yet…,” you breathed, drifting your fingertips over the glossy cover of the box like it was your Bible. 

“I know.” She hummed, still drinking from her hot chocolate, watching you with curiosity.  

Tarot set collecting somehow became your combined hobby over the years, although your preferences differed so as to not have any duplicates. Lilia had a set she used only for the shop, one that didn’t hold the same sentimental value as the few others she had, and you displayed your decks on the empty surface of your dresser. Lilia rarely got new ones, she was quite connected to the five that she already had, they all held different meanings, and you only enjoyed splurging when you saw ones that were really incredible. Your next gift was a surprise for Lilia, it would bump her deck number up to six, and you smiled softly as you slid the top off of the decorative box and swiftly counted the cards as the tenth addition to your collection. 

“These are gorgeous. Where did you get them?” You couldn’t tear your eyes away. 

“A witch never tells,” Lilia put two fingers to her pursed lips and though you didn’t look up to see it, you still huffed at her words. 

“Well can a witch accept a thank you?” 

“She can,” your roommate acquiesced, giving you a heartfelt “You’re welcome” when you thanked her on the spot. 

“I will say I think you and I had the same idea,” you admitted when Lilia got around to opening her next gift. She raised quizzical eyebrows as she looked down at the box in her hands, and you watched with glee as her lips parted in surprise. “We know each other so well.” 

“It appears we do…,” she murmured low beneath her breath before she tossed the wrapping paper down to you and gave the box a proper look.

It was medium sized, wooden, hand painted, and carved. On the front, there was a rather uncanny all-black cameo of Lilia’s side profile. It was perfect, from the shelf of her brow to the distinct curve of her nose down to the gentle slope of her neck, and it was front and centre in the painted format of a tarot card. At the bottom were two words written in your pen, ‘The Divine’. And at all four corners, little details of the sun, moon, Saturn, and stars. Lilia was quiet as she opened the hinged lid, and then she gasped as she came face to face with The Empress. It took her less than a second to realise what you’d done. Her gaze shifted quickly, from every individual stroke to every mark and design, from every corner signature to every line. With slow movements, pouring with awe, The Empress was quickly pushed to the back as Lilia slipped the entire stack out of the box and began fanning them with her fingertips. Her touch was delicate, hovering as she traced outlines and ran her thumb along the curves of the cards. 

“Hand painted,” she said softly and you looked from her to the deck and back again with a nod and a smile. 

“Do you like them?” You didn’t really have to ask, you knew she did, but some part of you was always nervous whenever you did something nice for your roommate. You had to toe the line carefully, balancing being platonic and being romantic, and gifts were, at times, a difficult thing to interpret. You wanted her to enjoy them, to find use in them, to keep them for the rest of her long life just as she had with a bunch of her other souvenirs. If ever she had to leave, flee, or travel somewhere without you, you hoped that she would stop to pack them in with her things first. Or better yet, use them for special occasions. Times where she could tell people that she got that deck of tarot cards from a young woman she once knew, a woman she thought of often with fondness. Maybe a woman who could become her wife one day, though it was such a silly thought you could only shake it out of your head.

“Yes, I like them,” Lilia breathed, eyes still hungrily devouring the details. She looked quite impressed. “These are beautifully done. Thank you.” Her smile felt like a hug around your shoulders when she peered down at you. 

“Oh I- of course…,” you said shyly, resisting the urge to bow your head or look away, and her smile only grew as she turned back to her new deck and began realigning them. You watched her for a moment, seeing her care and appreciation in the way she handled them like fine china, and it was only when the box made a light clink against the side table that you finally snapped out of it.

“Why don’t we open the last ones together?” You suggested, perking up with a renewed sense of interest. The last gift was your personal favourite as it contained the most magic, and since you had yet to find your own physical form of the craft, like Lilia’s golden whisps, it was also the most time consuming. Laborious magic was a true pain in the ass, but you had a little help from your mentor and in only a few days, the gift was complete. You prayed the witch in front of you enjoyed it. 

“Good idea,” she put the wooden box to the side and picked up the last gift.

You mirrored her, then watched as both of you worked at the wrapping paper and revealed your last gifts. 

In your hand, a small unassuming brown box. In Lilia’s, a long Tiffany-blue box. You shared a look and in unison, slid the tops off.

Inside the box, nestled in a soft foam mould, was a simple, smooth, shining Black Tourmaline. It was about the size of the dip in your palm and when you picked it up, your hand dropped just a bit with the weight. You glanced up at Lilia, meeting her eyes over the ledge of her knees, and smiled in confusion. 

“This is gorgeous, but why is it so heavy?” You laughed, holding the gemstone like gold as you slid it between your palms and ran your fingers over the smooth surface. 

“Turn it around,” she responded as she looked down at her own gift and hummed, moving to gently take it out of its own foam mould as though it was made of glass. 

“Oh… woah…” On the other side was an engraving. A symbol. Seven points to a complex star. You’d seen glimpses of it in various books over the years, but it wasn’t among the most common signs in witchcraft, so you never paid it any proper attention. Clearly, to Lilia, you should’ve. 

“It’s a Heptagram. In many religions, its existence is overwhelmingly positive,” Lilia said offhandedly, eyes still glued to her own gift, “and this…,” she twirled it in her fingers, face glimmering with the way the sun shone through the kitchen curtains and caught the light off of one of the shining little bunches, “is a bouquet of hemlock stuck in stasis.” Her vision readjusted, moving past the green of the stems to you, sitting in direct view behind them. You watched as the film of magic made the bunch glow. From certain angles, it seemed as though it stood beneath shining stained glass, casting reds, oranges, yellows, blues, purples, greens, pinks, and whites all in various shades.

“I knew it was a bit on the nose, but it can’t hurt you unless you decide to eat it,” you explained, “Elise helped me cast the spell. It will be like that forever, I’m pretty sure. That’s why it’s shimmering. Pretty, isn’t it?” You smiled, running your fingers over your new stone aimlessly. 

“It’s perfect,” Lilia said warmly, tilting her head with a sweet smile on her face. “Thank you.”

“Of course!” You rushed out, chest almost heaving with the weight of her affection “Now are you going to tell me the meaning behind this stone?” You asked and held it up before your eye, symbol facing her. 

“It’s a protective ward. Throughout the ages, it has come to mean different things to different believers, but I focused my energy into divine protection. As long as it’s with you, anyone with bad intentions will turn the other way,” she explained in her teacher voice, speaking matter-of-factly.

You blinked at her. 

She looked entirely unbothered, maybe a little bit proud, as if it was just another one of her lessons. As if she did something like that for everyone, everyday. 

“Or that’s what it’s supposed to do,” Lilia rolled her eyes and swung her head to the side as she picked up her mug again, “but I’m certain I got it right.” 

Oh. Right. Of course. As if it was just another one of her lessons. Like a Christmas Day lesson. Like perhaps it was no big deal. Like maybe it wasn’t a true feat of magic, no matter how small the gem. Like protection wasn’t that hard. Like it wasn’t genuinely the kindest thing anyone had ever done for you. Ever. And like you wouldn’t think about it for the rest of your life, which you would, of course, cuz you’d hold the thing in your pocket, in your hand, you’d sew it into your skin, if it meant you wouldn’t lose it. 

Not that you could, you decided. No. You’d have it forever. You’d keep it until death, considering that’s what Lilia wanted. Your safety. Your protection. She went as far as to pick out a gem for you, went through the time of making it compact enough, smooth enough, and spent lord knows how long carving the symbol into its surface. Then continued to cast on it, doubling the chance of success, tripling the strength. For your protection. For your survival. Because she cared. Lilia Calderu cared. And you knew she did, so you weren’t sure why tears started to prick at your eyes, but it wasn’t like she noticed anyway.

She was too focused on her hemlock, admiring it still with a pleasant smile on her lips, and you watched her lick the hot chocolate from her mouth and put her mug down before you sprang into action. 

You hadn’t even realised that’s what you’d been waiting for, why you hesitated, but the second her hands were empty and you felt the warmth of her body press into your own, it made sense. That’s what you craved. That’s what you always missed. The subtle buzz in your body, calling as if it were without something, begging for a concept you knew nothing off, went quiet. Like a switch being turned off. Your hands tucked themselves beneath her arms and went winding up to her back, splaying out with the stone squished gently in between your left hand and her pyjamas. Of course that’s what you wanted. Lilia. Always Lilia. She still smelled so lovely, like the sweet perfume of your home and the lemon of her shampoo, and you shuddered as you felt a soft puff of breath along your neck. Jesus, you melted for her. Like ice in the sun. Like butter in a pan. Warm with love, with sunlight, and you felt as though you could soak her up forever. You could stay there, nearly collapsing at the feel of her arms running up to curl along the curve of your back, forever.

“Thank you Lilia,” you whispered into her ear, sounding shuddery and frail as those sweet hands patted you once, twice, so warm and so calming. Her arms squeezed gently, nonverbally returning the sentiment, and you felt weak. “Thank you…” 

A minute passed, then she shifted and pulled you a bit closer. 

“Merry Christmas, honey,” Lilia murmured, red lips so close to your skin you swore you could feel the brush of them. The pull of them. Like maybe she wanted them to be there. 

What a silly thought. 

“Merry Christmas, Madame Calderu,” you replied, just as softly, and grinned with joy as her shoulders began to jump with happy quiet laughter.

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The witch came back the very next day oh the witch came back...

Hi! Hello! Hi! Let me know what you all think? Did I get the characterization right? I have another part in mind for this, so if you like it and you show your love, you may have more Lilia Calderu coming your way. I really hope you're all doing well. - Yours, Ripley x

・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈・✩・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈・

[imorynn]

͙͘͡ 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞 ( 𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐮 )

͙͘͡ pairings : lilia calderu 𝓍 fem!reader

͙͘͡ word count : 8.5k+

͙͘͡ w/m : SMUT really with subtle but no sense of plot bc idfk what happened - horny parasites took over, oral ( r & lilia receiving ), soft!dom!lilia, begging, praise, overstimulation, fingering, edging, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, nipple play, strap usage penetration ( lilia receiving ), enchanted strap, whimpering, moaning, usage of pet names, dirty talk coming from lilia, calling lilia ‘momma’ because why not, tinges and dashes and rainbow sprinkles of fluffffffffarghhhhhhh

͙͘͡ tags : @bravewithacapitalb @angeliccss @weemswife @multixfan @missquints @raustenacious @theonefairygodmother @astrophiliaxx @alittlewitchyone @renyfisher @amethyst-bitch @gilmoresliarss @livforlive @thoroughly--confused @ofgoldandbraid @gayestswiftie @delusionalforolderwomen @kenzie-floops @liliastriangle @mymiraclewitch @kinglet1963 @misschanandlerbong25 @cowboykya @bloodycoochielicker @libbythatcherssecretgf @taurus-baby-34 @grifffins @nutritionat @hyper-queer-fixated @taurus-baby-34 @ahsfan05 @chiefofmilfs @grifffins @justartever @sweetcheeksschemmenti @refreshingly-original

͙͘͡ dividers by : @cafekitsune

author’s note : happy fucking Valentine’s Day!!!!! The amount of times I had to pause and breathe ( and beat it really ) before continuing oh my fucking gosh. I'm panicking. but this was really fun to write and based on all of this ... I think i'm gay. and horny. I don't think there's anything new there when it comes to Lilia though ? ANYWHOoooo, I hope you enjoy this filth and this day <333333333

“Y/n, doll, as much I’m enjoying your pampering and affections,” a velvet chuckle emerged from Lilia’s chest, chin inclining so very slightly away from approaching sweetness delicately pinched within your fingers. “I believe I’m going to perish if I eat another chocolate.”

Her words drew a tender smile to your face, but your resolve remained steadfast, your purpose as clear and unwavering as a vow sworn in the quietest corners of your pulsating heart. This day belonged entirely to Lilia Calderu, a sacred offering of your time and affection, each moment deliberately crafted to bathe her in the light of your love. It mattered not whether the fourteenth of February had held significance in the chapters of your life before her; in her presence, it had contorted into something extraordinary — a celebration not of fleeting gestures but about her, solely and without limits.

Your devotion was not confined to the edges of this day alone, but today it burned brighter, fiercer — a love perpetual and unrelenting, given form in the warmth of your touch and the care behind every detail. Year-round, your affection lingered quietly in the subtleties of everyday moments, but today it was a roaring flame, alive and impossible to ignore, as though the universe itself had conspired to remind her of the depths of your heart.

To you, she was no mere muse or fleeting infatuation — everything is what Lilia was to you, and this day was your love song, rendered with every beat of your being.

The makeshift home you had modified for her spoke volumes of your boundless devotion, every attribute scrupulously chosen to reflect the depths of your affection. Crimson and scarlet balloons levitated languidly in every corner, their mylar surfaces adorned with sugary declarations of love that teetered between grimacing cheesy and utterly heartfelt. From the ceiling hung a cascade of handmade hearts, each one preciously imperfect, a signature of your touch that her keen gaze could not miss.

The floor was strewn with rose petals, their scattered pattern a cryptic language only you could decipher. That waking morning, the space had already been graced with seven bouquets of her most beloved flowers, their vibrant blooms nestled amongst an already extravagant collection of gifts, hand-written notes, and confections so lavish they seemed fit for royalty. The sheer abundance was almost overwhelming, a grand testament to the way your love could not be contained, spilling over in every conceivable way, saturating the air with warmth and adoration.

Any other day, she might have persuaded you to temper your enthusiasm. Not easily, of course — your adoration for her knew no bounds, and reining it in was a near-impossible feat. But Valentine’s Day held a different kind of magic for you, and Lilia, though unfazed by the festivity, found herself reveling in it, unveiling things she had long forgotten. It had been decades, centuries even, since she had basked in affection so freely offered.

For so long, the world had regarded her with suspicion, fear, even disdain, seeing only what they could not understand or simply not wanting to. But you — goodness, you, beheld her in all her entirety, every facet laid bare, and lavished upon her the boundless depths of your love; she was the very axis of your existence, the radiant sun around which your heart revolved in perpetual devotion to her blazing light.

Her gaze flitted down, catching a glimpse of the subtle protrusion of your lower lip as you hesitantly relented to her request. With a soft sigh, you returned the heart-shaped chocolate to its similar-shaped box, unwilling to risk even the faintest discomfort for her sake. Lilia smirked softly, a silent victory for her over-indulged stomach.

She eased back into the plush embrace of the single sofa, her body sinking comfortably against the cushions. With a gesture just as inviting, she opened her arms to you who had been perched upon the ottoman in front of her. Slowly, you followed, finding your rightful spot upon her lap as her arms entwined around you.

“Valentine’s Day,” Lilia began with a thick scoff, her voice tinged with its signature mix of charm and exasperation you knew so well, “is an utterly peculiar concept to me. A single day to celebrate love? It’s positively ridiculous.” Her fingers traced idle patterns along your arm as she spoke, a dash of humor and something more quieter. “As if love could ever be contained in twenty-four fleeting hours or reduced to flowers, ridiculous chocolates, and cliché notes.”

You mimicked her scoff with curious brimmed eyes. “You say that, but you have eaten your weight in those ‘ridiculous’ chocolates a few minutes ago.”

"Chocolates you shoved in my mouth without my consent, you mean." Though she could not help but chuckle. “I suppose you're right, in a way. Though I maintain it’s a human indulgence I don’t quite understand.” She tilted her chin slightly, eyes meeting yours with an ancient depth that always left you momentarily breathless. “Do you know how many lifetimes I’ve watched pass by? Lovers fumbling through grand gestures, driven by nothing more than obligation or fear of being forgotten.” Her voice softened, dipping into something reflective. “I’ve seen love reduced to performances, fleeting and insubstantial. It lost its meaning long ago.”

Her words carried the weight of centuries, yet you could not help but catch the faintest note of melancholy threading through her usual cynicism, always making your chest churn when you witnessed it.

“But look, here you are going through all I've done for you.” you gently murmured as you cradled her cheek in hopes to draw her into this moment, “Are you truly going to tell me this doesn’t mean something to you?”

Lilia blinked, and for a moment, her meticulously crafted armor seemed to falter. “You are a cliché romantic,” she grumbled. “Perhaps you’re the exception to my incredulity. That or I’m simply growing soft in my age.”

You smiled, your fingers rising to lovingly run through her curls. “You can pretend all you want, Lilia, but I know the truth. You like this. You like being loved, even if it’s ridiculous and messy and wrapped in heart-shaped balloons.”

“Well, you do have a peculiar way of over-feeding me, drowning me in flowers, and hanging all these love hearts just slightly too low so I can’t avoid bumping into them.” she muttered into the kiss pressed against your temple, “It’s almost like you’re trying to wear me down.”

You nudged your nose gently along the angle of her jaw, a subtle but intimate gesture, and tilted your head back just enough to look at her. “Is it so wrong,” you inquired, brows hitching in feigned incredulity, “to spoil the woman I love with the gifts and adoration she deserves?”

She chortled and rolled her eyes, hand drifting from your lower back to your hip to deliver a light pinch that sent a small jolt through you. “Mmm, not wrong at all,” she mused, and the way she tightened her hold on you betrayed how much she reveled in your attention. “I guess I could endure a little more spoiling if it means I get to keep you right here.”

Her gaze flickered downward — just briefly, to the delicate and intricate jewelry resting against your collarbone, its familiar weight a quiet reminder that she, too, had indulged in today’s sentimentality. A gift from her to you, given with little fanfare but impossible to mistake for anything other than what it was; strikingly reminiscent of her own, though more you. “... and if you insist on spoiling me, it is only fair I return the favor.”

A proud lovesick grin tugged at your lips, leaning further into her as she shifted to draw you closer still, until no space remained between you and you could only inhale the sole fragrance within her clothing, her flesh, here and there delivering a light kiss that lingered longer than the one before.

There were tender digits slipping beneath her shawl and sauntering up the line of her spine, sweet lips embracing her throat lovingly, leaving warm kisses in their wake as she responded with the sounds her innards stirred and the movement her head created: drawled-out hum, a slight head tilt to allow you more access.

Lilia was well aware you were the proud proprietor of wandering hands when it came to her. So it came with no surprise when she felt the subtle strokes of what felt like circles and hearts across and behind her shoulders grow deceptively idle, and she permitted their roaming about her body, allowing the pads of your fingers to spike the temperature on her already searing skin while her own pressed into your hips, her own thoughts and desire accumulating.

“However, speaking of gifts,” Then came that puckish lilt you recognized almost immediately. Her words ruffled through your hair, octave softer, arousing, velvety. “There is one in particular I’ve been thinking about all day. Something you won’t find in a box or tied with a ribbon.”

You pulled away for a second, caught the flickering blaze within her earthen irises and swallowed softly, already anticipating her next words. “Oh?” Your gaze became lidded, entranced by the slight purse of her mouth that enhanced the fine lines around. “And what would that be?”

“You.” Heat bloomed in your cheeks, but she gave you no time to respond, pressing a slow, painstaking kiss to the corner of your gaping mouth, her smile curling even wider and coy at the rouge left behind. She pulled back slightly, just enough to gauge your reaction, at the way your temerity faltered. “What do you say, darling? Will you spoil momma some more and give her what she wants?”

The way she utilized the title against you. The way her touch boldened, groped, teased, lingered, overwhelmed. “Use your words, my darling girl, I’m certain you can put that mouth to good use.”

Your hands crumbled the material of her shawl on her shoulders as your deep sigh was swallowed by Lilia, her salacious mouth coaxing a swell of sensations behind your chest that served to rouse a familiar warmth in your core, heat licking at the pulse between your legs.

“T-take what you want, Li—momma. please.”

The rather, to be blunt, sadistic part of the witch wished to ruthlessly, deridingly drag you to state specifics but her tenderness and yearn for you overpowered the desire, so instead she drifted her fingers along the hem of your lower garments, pondering, her eyes squinting before her fore and middle finger delivered two taps to your hip with a light kiss. 

"On your knees, baby."

You wasted not a second in consenting to her words. You yearned to hear her talk to you, to please her — you craved every bit of it, of her.  So before she knew it — though was not surprised in the slightest,  you were already descending to your knees right before her, going beneath the silk fabric of her skirts that swayed across her ankles. Your hands splayed across her calves, softly skimming along the taut muscle there before your touch ascended.

Lilia released the sweetest sigh, her thighs, coming into mouth-watering view as you rumpled her clothing up to her waist, clenching as your eyes held hers, those pretty eyes;  dewey, whiskey browns that taunted you. You were trembling with wanting to please her, to be good for her, to demonstrate just how deserving she was of love, of being pleased. The fevered heat in you swelled tenfold as your fingers climbed and deftly slid down her panties, a flushed red color and slightly drenched in her sex you may add, catching glimpse of the shine the second she was discarded from them.

She spread the slightest bit more, inviting you into her while yours clenched together beneath you as you stared at the apex of those tantalizing legs, and fuck, you will never not be breathless at the sight.

You allowed your thumb to push through her dampened folds, stopping at her pulsing clit, and began to partake in a pattern you knew she more than loved; gentle rubs, caring strokes, lingering presses.

The peak of your tongue darted out to lick your lips; you were drooling, feening from the mere idea of tasting her, and then you made your descent. Huffs of breaths hit her center, mingling with her growing wetness, and you refused to tear your eyes away from the cunt you made this drenched. 

“Where are your manners, doll? Hmm?” Breathless she was the second hot lips suckled on her inner thighs, making her shudder as you searched through the fog in your brain for those words she sought off your lips. It was hard, talking this much when all you wanted was to feel her slick seeping on your tongue.

“Can I, Lilia?” You exhaled against her lower stomach, kissing her delicately, sweetly, sucking on the soft skin in an attempt to gain her consent, “Can I please put my mouth on you? Fuck, can I make momma come?”

You begged so sweetly, so much devotion lodged into those abyssal eyes she knew she could not deny in this moment, all to receive the most sensational hum of approval and the feel of silver bejeweled fingers soothingly running through your hair. “Put your mouth on momma, baby.”

You brought your lips to her pulsing clit, delivering a soft open-mouthed kiss for her legs to relax for a split second, a soft exhale traveling through your ears only for it to hitch when your tongue, even and flat, lulled a broad swipe through the very length of her, adding the slightest of pressure that had her nerves spasming. 

You went right for it, slurping her tasteful-coated folds as though it were your only purpose. “Goodness, babyy…” Your sucks were masterful, the sensation of you trapping her clit between your lips snatching the air from her lungs, evident in the push her heaving chest created. “Good … hmm good girl.”

“I’ll do anything to please you.”

Her vulva bloomed like tulips in the peak of spring, glistening like sticky substances that smeared across it. That tongue of yours, impatient as ever, eager as ever. It made a home in her hole instantly and she rose an octave in her moans, your name dripping seductively from her parted lips. You were starving for her, famished as you lapped her, softly prodding her wider with one single palm wrapped around her inner thigh. “ ‘M doing good?”

“Y-you're doing such a great job, sweet girl.” You saw the way her head nearly became one with the cushion behind her as two of your fingers, fore and middle finger, swiftly slid inside, rubbing those gushing walls, curling deliciously, slowly. 

You did not dare to falter with your wet muscle’s movement, your chin coming to prop upon your palm to gain firmer licks upon her swollen clit, rewarded with the ooze of her gush flowing like a river around you, your own slick drenching your undergarments. "You sound so fucking pretty, Lilia..."

Wet squelching noises and breathy moans followed by praise enveloped the room’s air. Your brain was pushed into a mind-bending utopia, it felt so fucking good to be the one in this position. The more speed and tongue you exerted, the lower her moans became and the more her walls swallowed digits as they carved in her. Her sharp inhale churned your brain in the best way there was, perspiring skin prickling in awe of her voluptuous body and her distorted expressions, the scrunches of her prominent nose, the puckers and lines of her mouth. So beautiful, you moaned against her.

The concept of time halted momentarily. An intake of breathing, sharp. A heartbeat, wrecked. Heat and love, tangled — pouring over, consuming, drowning you both the second her juices drizzled down your hand, your chin, and none of it going untasted by you.

Sweet assuring kisses pressed into her inner thighs, kneading her flesh while you propped yourself up to stand, questioning how she was feeling. You expected to see those eyes of hers closed, taking a brief moment to herself yet she was entirely fixated on you, pensive and lust-filled eyes boring into yours, and she reached to tug you back into your place on her, with her, upon her lap to enrich your lips with a sweet kiss. 

Your head slanted whenever she pulled away for the slightest moment, pretty browns darting between your eyes before yanking you forward, mouths colliding. Instantly coiling your fingers into your silver locks, your grip feened and was overwhelmed by her, thumbs pushing into the lined flesh of her temples.

When you sucked in a sharp breath, she took advantage in deepening the kiss, savoring your taste, her taste; every stroke of her tongue was felt in every shiver erupting over your skin, in the inexplicable heaviness in your chest, the curling and scorching sensations below your navel when her touch blazed around your thighs, how her teeth dug every so often and gently into the plush of your lower lip.

“L-Lilia , please, please, I need you—”

Your breath stuttered, cutting sharply at your throat when her palm trailed over the curve of your ass, kneading into the supple flesh that had jolts clawing up your spine. Touches became languid and dizzying, and you groaned when her fingers barely brushed over your entrance, nothing but sheer slick heat eagerly greeted her, and a low hum came from her. Something of a familiar spark, firm and sizzling hot was nearly close to striking between your slick folds, conjured by the very tips of her middle and ring finger that caused your hips to stutter.

“Oh, fretful girl,” she crooned, your longing hole constricting ferociously in anticipation. Lilia placed a capable palm up against the back of your neck, squeezing all tenderly and possessively. Your lips parted and released a soft moan, hearing her hum into the curve of your throat when she drew you in for a moment, pressing soft kisses along the length of it

“Divine Mother, you’re so desperate, baby, aren’t you? Willing to let me take anything I want, hmm?” she tsk’ed in concealed sympathy and a helpless ‘oh’ prolonged from your mouth as you shamelessly rutted against her stomach.

Her voice lured you into that inescapable place only she could reach, where every thought, every breath, every segment of your being belonged solely to her. It left you untethered, your mind clouded with nothing but her, until existing beyond her presence felt impossible — unthinkable.

You could feel her rings touch the edge of your entrance, not ever going in as she made sure to rub two fingers against you, or how she made it certain in nudging the cool rims assisted with the spasming fury of her magic against your clit, watching perspiration collect and bead over the crown of your head and to your fluttering lashes.

She dragged her digits up against your bare cunt, beseeching eyes tunneling into hers as they slowly dragged down, never faltering in their firm pressure. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Slowly then shoving between, limbs halfway being swallowed by your narrowing walls. Your head attempted to fall upon the space of her shoulder trying to find some type of anchorage, yet the firm grip she had upon the back of your head was difficult to go against. She was endeared in seeing your pretty features, all scrunched and pathetic. Her pathetic girl.

“You’re going to come, aren’t you, darling, and you’re going to give me more?”

You choked on your own words but nodded frantically, chin dipping down and gyrating your hips forward in hopes to engulf the entirety of her fingers. “Yes, mmmm, imma come! you can do whatever — whatever, please, jus’ put them in—”

Lifting her lips to slide over your cheekbone, she pressed them to your temple as she increases the pace of her fingers. She did not need you to utter it twice — she was going to give in to you this time, uttering something latin beneath her breath and allowing her bare fingers to slip in entirely. Pumping through the squelching velvet, your hips canted against her until you found yourself moaning at the way she abundantly tore you apart.

Whines and whimpers rolled into heavy and loud moans that rumbled in the depths of your throat, eyes shuttering for a moment as her lips stroked across yours. It was carnal and leisured, the way she ruthlessly drilled into you, how sinfully wet it was as she lapped up the lingering taste of your damp chamber, the strong and addicting flavor that is solely you as she brought you impossibly closer, your thighs digging into each side of her hips.

“Come, baby, come for momma.” The coil snapped at her murmur, bursting and scattering — a euphoric feeling that surged entirely through you like a strong current, threatening to yank you underwater as you came, her palm glistening with your wetness. 

Hands flexed in their position on her shoulders to her nape and she took that as an invitation, a plea falling from your panting mouth. Once again, her warm lips so very gently pushed against your own, your exhales heaving when she departed from you, just to repeat her actions over and over again, lingering a second longer against you every time with the assistance of a soft praise. “Hi, baby... my lovely girl.”

You gave her a dazed and dumbfounded smile, still floating, barely conscious but allowed yourself to kiss her. "Hi, Lilia."

A sigh whirled from your throat like smoke, barely there, but unmistakably content. Lilia hummed, pleased and indulgent, sweetly drawing as she held you, cradling your head against her neck. Your body was pliant, yielding beneath her touch, molded into her frame as though it had always been meant to rest there.

You believed it was over. That now, you could melt into the cradle of her warmth, spent, sated, claimed. Yet then, she moved. A slow, intended shift beneath you, the sudden flex of her thighs, the pressure against the dip of your spine pushing you further into her, the featherlight graze of her breath carrying something perilous, something unfinished.

“I hope you know we aren’t done here, darling.” Smooth, tinged with amusement because she knew. Knew the foolish little thought that had flickered through your mind, that you had reached the peak, the end, the final wrap ups of this yearly festivity. But that tone, rich with relishment and something proprietorial, spoke to you otherwise.

You whimpered as her fingers traced lazy, knowing paths down over your sensitized and soaked flesh, a promise in every measured touch. While she planted a loving kiss on your forehead, she lowly uttered, “we’ve only just begun.”

The atmosphere enveloping you was sultry, and the room now smelt not only like Lilia's addicting fragrance but of you, your sex. You laid across the tangled bedsheets upon your shared mattress, thighs forced apart into the pillow's plushness, pussy spread open for your lover's filthy onslaught.

Lilia had situated herself between your legs with a plush pillow propped beneath her arm, flushed cheek nestled against your inner thigh while smiling at the sight of your face; mouth stained with her lipstick, jaw slack, crumbling right before her very eyes.

But as her head slanted down, this sight had become her prior fixation; tender, swollen lips glistening, thighs constricting and painted with juices flowing from your pussy, walls fluttering senselessly around nothing but the deep exhales and the nudges from her nose she granted you, spasming to feel more, the scent intoxicating and flooding her whole.

“ I need you to hold it in for a moment, can you do that for me, doll?” Ringed digits clasped around your hips and drew you closer, planting a soft kiss on your thigh.

“Lilia, I don’t think I can —”

Your weak protest contorted into a breathless shriek as burning specks returned and a sharp smack collided with your upper leg. “I thought you wanted to spoil momma with everything she wanted on this day, that you'd 'do anything to please her', ” Her lovely pout caused you to whimper before your blown out gaze averted behind her, hypnotized by the silhouette of her naked, curved figure. “Don’t tell me you’re going to deny me this.”

You did not have time to think or speak as soon as her tongue peeked out to tease you with the essence that was so distinctly you. An audible slurp caused your entire body to freeze as her lips brushed and evoked the bursts of magic over your bundle of nerves, watching as its yellow hue shimmer while it swelled, reflecting the sparkling droplets of your arousal. While she suckled on it softly, the tiny action from her lips made it go away, freeing your clit from her magic's assault only momentarily, leaving it open for her mouth to waste no time in latching onto.

“Fuck!—N-no, wait, s-slow down—” Too much it was for you, trying to retreat from a mouth so welcoming, so sloppy, so overwhelming. But her arms coiled around your thighs firmly, never daring to tear those brown depths away from you as she slowly hoisted you over her shoulders, preventing you from any chance of escape.

“You owe momma this treat,” she murmured, receiving a pathetic whine. “Need to taste my baby. So let me damn have it.”

She clutched you close, the flat of her tongue kneading through your slit up to your nub, fervent chocolate hues daring you to look away. She was utterly relentless, sending jolts of tormented pleasure through you, each mewl and cry motivating her.

She savored your pussy again and again and again, the pace was slow, torturous. It had you sobbing as narrowed waves of scorching sensations made you pulse and ache, the weight of her arms keeping you in place. She quivered with anticipation, because how could something so quintessential be hard to tame at the moment when she yearned for it?

“L-lili, i need a minute, please—” you softly rasped out, cunt pulsating ways you did not think it possibly could and brought your hand down to her unruly curls. The haste of her head shake had your swollen nub following her smiling mouth, her words vibrating through your nerves.

“I don’t think so, doll,” A firm suction enveloped your folds, wet lips leaving as soon as they came pulling a cry out of you. “You still have some more in you. I taught you better than this.”

Hurt feigned in the quirk of her brows and pushed the corners of her mouth down. “Trust me, baby. Don’t you trust momma?” Your chin trembled while trying to tie together a coherent fucking sentence, instantaneous regret tightening around your throat at Lilia’s sharp intake of breaths and stern look.

She could sense the way your gaze was about to avert from hers until her right palm glided down your thigh, the warmth of it simmering the already perspired flesh as it slid its way down before pinching.

“Eyes on me always, understand?” Fingertips dug into the quivering muscle, and it had you moaning before you exhaled and slowly nodding. “Be a good girl and come again. I know you can. You can take another.”

Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, the velvet muscle she was blessed with smoothly grazing the surface of her teeth, the sole display caused a jolt to pulse down between the center of your legs before the plane of it skimmed to flatten languidly over your swollen pearl. She blew out a chuckle at the tears kissing your waterline, clumping your pretty lashes when they flittered down, curtaining the broadness of your pupils while whimpering out an ‘okay, momma’.

You back bowed at the broad touch of her lips, fingers digging into the mattress at the precipitation of her tongue’s wide strides. The pulsing of your heart halted for a second, the riot of sensations she conjured up seemed unfathomable once her coaxed praises rumbled through you.

Your head receded back, mindlessly writhing and squirming with no sense of rhythm and flow behind your movements. The sharp coiling in your stomach became irrefutable and compelling as her tongue gently traversed the contours of your folds, descending towards your oozing entrance, soon lapping vigorously. Without any hurry, sucking and licking as if it was the sweetest thing conjured in the wretched world.

Lilia was drunk on the waves of your sex, praising with her tongue as you release once, twice, three, almost four fucking times, wide irises pinpointing themselves to the moisture — practically drenches cascading from your core. Her touch rose to graze the already sensitive lips of your cunt that caused any air from your lungs to burn enticingly.

The bend of your knees hoisted over her collarbones as she tenderly shifted you closer to her mouth. "Look at me now.” She firmly instructed once she sensed your final orgasm approaching, and this time her fingers slipped themselves in your sopping pussy, coating them with her spit and the slick she collected before ramming them back within your suffocating walls.

You watched as her ringed digits bore into your depths, tugging a weep out of you — filthy, rasped with spit when she nudged that special spot. Lilia fucked your cunt with ferocity, her other hand coming to coax your revolving hips.

You were quivering, your legs stretching wider as those nimble fingers acted in and out of your hungry hole. “Would you look at that, darling? How my fingers perfectly slip in and out of my baby’s cunt, as if they were divine to fit there?”

And there it was — that sharp burning pleasure and pain coiling and twisting deep within you from the venereal words she wondrously uttered, all of it unraveling with a throaty sob, racketing your every limb with its fervency.

She slowly hoisted up, lips glazed with your arousal before she licked over their coating. "Good girl." she murmured clear enough for you to hear. You did not respond and she did not expect you to, yet she knew you caught it once your hand stroked her hair and hummed. She simply waited and gave you a moment to catch your breath, soft kisses swatting away the tears upon your cheeks. To gather what was left of your energy and make do with it, because you were uncertain about what more she was going to take from you.

And the thought alone could not wait any longer. The exhilaration of using a recent gift, one she managed to get for you — and her, really, rippled through her when she climbed off the bed and walked towards your shared dresser. Peering down at it once in her held, she ran a finger along the very length with a wry curve of a smile, one of those smiles that melted your innards and jittered your limbs all at once the second your irises came to view, only for them to broaden and become endearingly astonished at the sight of her; unveiled, raw, unabashed, ethereal.

“W-where did you get that, l-love?” Your hazed question stumbled when you see what had been tenderly slid up your aching hips and nestled between your legs, already pushing yourself up and scooting back against the headboard. She did not respond just yet, the proud smile lifting the corners of her mouth and the spark in her orbs spoke loud enough for your eyes to once again widen.

The weariness nearly completely disintegrated from your system when she bestrode you, her weight firmly pinning you down while rotund thighs framed your sides. Palms instinctively planted over them, slightly sinking your teeth into your lower lip at the sight of what was now between your legs, at how it leaned up and against your stomach, shining with a generous coating of lubricant.

The golden wisps of her magic appeared at the tips of her flexing fingers before they came down to make contact with the silicone, softly sizzling along your lower abdomen, and before you knew it, something felt different. The subtle details upon it were more enhanced, the once solid veins aligning, curling around and gaining a liquid amber tinge.

It was not just the sight of the toy that floored you, but Lilia herself; the soft curves of her full hips seemed to invite touch, while the gentle sag of her breasts added a depth of allure, their weight swaying with each breath and movement, catching the flicker of light like a living sculpture. Freckles and faint lines traced over her shoulders and down her chest, a map of stories and moments etched into her skin, and all of it had you overwhelmed, enthralled, salivating even.

Her head dipped just slightly, breathing out when your mouth moved across her jaw and down the silken texture of her neck. “So beautiful, Lilia...” you inhaled her fragrance, teeth subtly grazing the tender flesh beneath her ear, hands gliding up her body and you could not help the whimper leaving you the second you became more in contact with her flesh. Gosh, she was so pretty, so lovely, engulfing your heart in a blazing fire that conjured an ache you could not, you did not want to soothe.

You came in contact with the elegant hollow of her clavicle, tongue dipping so tenderly to taste the subtly dusted skin there, gaze soon falling over the older witch’s breasts. It was instant, the reflex of your hands, your mouth taking over before your mind could process; eager hands cupping and raising the heaviness of her mound, salivating mouth latching onto her taut nipple.

Fuck, how you wanted to envelop her entirely, yet much to your dismay, instead you settled for swirling the delicate peak between your teeth — licking, nibbling, sucking, marking while your hand kneaded the other.

“Hungry for me, baby?” She rasped with a huff of a chuckle, tangling her fingers to your hair and cradling the back of your head. “You like the taste of momma?”

“I’m always hungry for you,” you muttered around her, giving a firm suction. “I’ll never get enough of you.” A long moan tumbled out her chest at the low timbre of your words; the feel of liquid heat pooling her areola, at the sensual gnaw of your incisors. You gave the same attention to her other tit, your palm coming down to press against the small of her back, pushing her deeper into you as if that would give you more access to her wholeness.

This went on for a few or so minutes, meaty flesh bitten, dark nipples flushed and pruned, coated with your spit. “Alright, love, that’s enough,” she groaned softly, tearing your latching mouth away from her raw nub. “I prefer your mouth somewhere else now.”

She hitched herself higher, a leg curling over your shoulder, pulling you closer. Your mouth watered at the sight of her — her arousal dripping, glistening, a silent plea to be savoured.

Lifting your gaze, you sought her approval, and it came in the form of a half-lidded stare, a smoldering decree spun from silk and embers. "Go on, baby.”

There was something grandiose and something virtuous in this — something beyond hunger, beyond mere indulgence. To witness her like this, to be the sole recipient of such a sight, her unguarded pleasure, was a privilege that left you breathless. The power she held over you was all-encompassing, from her actions, from the simple act of breathing, something more than sexual as her essence coated your lips. In the way her very existence unraveled you.

The way her fluids became the nectar your tongue savored as you thirsted, consumed it. How your wet cheek nuzzled into her inner thigh before diving back in, absorbing yourself into her flesh as you palmed her by the ass closer, finger pads digging into her cheeks.

“There we go, baby … r-right there, fuuuck–” She tamed every savage glide and stroke of your tongue with her palms upon your head. Rigid breaths contained the exact pace she wanted you to create, though in truth, her guidance was pointless compared to your capabilities, your whole nature in pleasuring her from the way you sent her spiraling into iridescent specks of light and euphoric bliss was what she felt recoiling in her abdomen, soon feeding both your sinful cravings as she came.

You were intoxicated with the palatable taste of her pussy, giving her ovations with your tongue through her prolonged orgasm still trembling through her. Her thigh then was descended, sweetly smiling down at you.

Your silence lumbered a concern through her, leading her fingers down to gently curl around the sides of your neck, thumbs prodding your chin up. There was a spasm of worry across your features, earnest eyes peering up at her. “Have you uh …. ever used …”

She harbored a gentle grin, her hold on your neck carrying more pressure. You could not contain the gasp of ecstasy when she did so, throat dipping with each eager swallow of your inhales. "You think an old witch like me can’t have a fun sex life?” She paused for a moment before adding with a tilt of a smirk, "But yes. I've had some ... practice. By myself, for you."

She chuckled at the moan that erupted through you. As she soothed your head with her touch, the illusions of her touching, fucking herself just to prepare for this had an ambition growing to touch her once more, to stroke away the loose curls from her bare shoulders, to litter her pretty skin with sweet kisses, to let your hands linger over her breasts, let them travel farther down and act upon what she had planned.

"You will be able to feel every bit of me as I of you, darling. It may overwhelm you for a moment." Your brows comically rose to your hairline, lips parted at this interesting revelation as your hands softly glided up her body. The blow of her breath muddled your mind as she pulled you to her mouth, words aerated as she continued, "Should you move and come without my consent, you will suffer the consequences, understood?"

Her thumbs pushed against the corners of your pouting mouth. She watched as your eyes broadened in beseech and frustration, wanting to retort at this hell-brought request, your grip on her hip tightening. She only shook her head once more, a warning streaking her features before her hips began elevating, dragging her soaking cunt down your coiling abdomen.

Inexorably, the plump head of your shaft in your other palm was gently pumped as she began to slowly settle down, parting her folds and descending deeper and deeper until you were completely enveloped by her moistened warmth. Each slow inch put in was a revelation, a quiet step closer towards undoing.

The instant there was nothing left to put in, Lilia trapped the strap inside her soft walls, restricting your movement at the same time your glossed eyes began to roll to the back of your mind. Her wet and obscene glides, the exquisite feelings, the heat derived from stretching her velvety cunt wide; you could feel all of her as she molded to your shape, tugging you deeper into her decadence. The stimulation weakened your muscles, eyes watching her every move intently to closing on their own as if it was too much for you to handle.

"Don't move yet, baby."

Oxygen spiked and stuttered, spewing out in soft, broken whimpers, the octave raw with the weight of new territory. Sensation overtook thought, each nerve set ablaze, every fluttering pulse a hymn of ecstasy. As if in a trance, you did just as you were told. Pupils twitching under your closed eyelids, forehead resting against her neck with a deep inhale of her aroma in hopes for it, for her to alleviate this pulsing ache.

"Are you alright? Darling – shit, talk to me. Does this feel good, hmm?"

“Yes, yes, it’s amazing…” you whimpered into her skin, a shiver clawing up your spine and your arms wrapped around her tightly. “I-it almost hurts, Lilia.”

Her gentle chuckle nuzzled across your temple. “There we go, it's alright, doll,” she sweetly soothed, features content, caught in their own bliss. She grabbed ahold of your jaw, fingertips tenderly kneading the skin there and tilted your face towards hers. “Momma will make it better for you, okay ? I won't move yet. The pain will cease … you just have to trust the process.”

Her gaze flitted down to your breasts, reminiscing their very shape, the way each droplet of sweat painted down your hued skin, somehow accentuating every detail of your body. The moment of her staring was for a handful of seconds, yet to both of you it felt like a lifetime. Your hands, having a hopeless mind of their own, trailed from her hipbone to her stomach.

Searching your eyes for a moment, wanting the final approval for her to continue, if she was truly certain you could handle more of what she was about to take and give.

And you could. You would and trusted her blissing actions. It was evident in each keening sweep of your fingers along the soft slope of her stomach, the way the brims of your teeth scraped across her lips, her neck and shoulders, down her breasts. It made the heat take over, a raging conflagration rising up within her until it surged into her starting pace; slow, steady, grinding.

Your mind became clouded and the pulsing between your legs nearly unbearable — Lilia could feel every curl and divot and spasm you made inside of her. Nonetheless, you did not dare to thrust yet, having an inkling that if you disobeyed her, she would make sure you would pay dearly and would not allow your own climax whatsoever.

But none of it mattered, you did not care. You, and her, were nothing but hunger, aching to collapse into one. Her breath hitched, breasts rising and falling in desperate surrender, hips rolling like tides that knew no shore. Rings sank into your tender flesh, pressing, pleading, marking.

And she rode you slow — so unbearably, exquisitely slow, her rhythm a measured torture, each descent capturing your breath, each ascent leaving you needy and empty. You gasped, strangled on a whimper, fingers digging into her hips with shaking need, but she pressed a firm hand to your clavicle, her lips curving with warm intent that clashed with the wicked glint in her eye.

"Nuh-uh uh. Stay still, doll."

It was fucking agony. Limbs winding and tightening, body locked beneath her will, the fevered hunger wracking you unbearable. You could not thrust up, could not rut into the snug clasp of her, could not chase the brink of pleasure that lumbered like a sunburst just out of reach. You wanted to give more, wanted to implore her, whines and pleas poured from your glistened mouth as her walls devoured your girth and your hands were everywhere and anywhere, squeezing, kneading, pulling.

"Please—"

"You’re doing so good for me, you know that?" Her voice was low and quivering, leg coiling around your lower abdomen, every blissful tremble your body created being swallowed by her curves. Her question drew out whimpers of ‘yes’s into her skin, perspiring forehead shoved beneath her jawline. You clutched at her supple thighs, trying to burrow deeper into her when hips grounded full force onto yours.

Her lips kiss over the shell of your ear, fingertips tenderly stroking the dampened skin of your neck in hopes to ease your shaking and urges to move. "if you keep being a good girl, momma will let you move." Her voice filled with melted promise, patiently awaiting for you to open your eyes and look at her.

When you did, you were immediately pushing your mouth on hers. Tongue and teeth ravaged hers like it was the final thing you would ever do. Biting, slurping, kissing, exploring every nook and inch of her mouth until what was left of her mind hazed, until the air in her lungs was sucked and consumed by you. Until all she could do was feel the way you throbbed in her warmth, dark honey and fire, ripe nectar dripping down your length, tremors racketing the center of your back.

Finding the slightest of strength and clarity in yourself, you grasped it, letting it bolden your actions as your teeth scraped her lower lip. Moaning, she squeezed around your neck — loving how the band of your gifted necklace coiled around her knuckles, how she recognized your deep gulps and swallows while she pressed her ringed digits down the middle of your throat just a little bit more, not too much nor too faint, wanting to notice and experience each flex and breathy moan you would form, wanting to see the after-burned marks of her thick rings tainting your skin.

Dazed you were, captivated by the lingering musk of perspiration and sex, the essence of it branding your inflamed flesh and shriveled sheets. Your needs and desires sunk into the deep depths of her venereal oceans, begging to be combined with hers, and that was when she gave you her word.

“Move, baby, come on, move for me.”

You wasted no second in moving your hands to her ass for leverage, levitating your hips up to meet hers halfway, one that ejected the breath from her lungs, that crumbled her to the very marrow of her bones. "Fuck, y/n!" Her mouth tore from yours as every feeling she had ever experienced welled within her stomach to her chest, all at once, pushing her to her third climax.

She could not brace for the next thrust, could not form a coherent thought or string together a thorough breath. Only felt as you sunk into her deeply, again. And again. And again. Until her back curved so prettily like a bow drawn too tight, until she was gasping against you and she was nothing but liquified limbs and open-mouthed surrender.

You were moving so well, so inwardly, that she forgot how to properly kiss you. Her lips parted against yours, but she did not meet your desperate kiss. She only moaned, huffed, the tip of her tongue grazing yours; wet, messy, panting.

“A-am I—” Strangled were your words, broken gasps as your sweat-damp hair tickled her forehead, rocking into her with purpose. “being good for you, momma?”

Soft and uncertain your tone was in the way that made her hazily smile against your skin before she lowly moaned at feeling your fullness within her. The fingers of one hand gently pinched your chin up, the others abraded over the back of your shoulder and it made you shudder, scorch, searching for her approval. It fueled you more than anything, more than the pleasure, more than the way she clenched around you, like velvet, like a vice.

Her breath stumbled, shuddering with each thrust, dragging through the swollen heat of her, making her feel every thick inch. "You're doing better than good, baby,” she exhaled loudly, breasts arching into your wet cavern. "So, so amazing, so eager for me —" Hope twinkled your gaze, motivating you with punctured thrusts, groaning as soon as she tugged you back by the hair and dove into your mouth. Into you, the wild and endless incandescence between your flaring bodies.

“T—tell me more,” Your throat was hoarse, whining with another flex of your hips that hit her just right and made her mouth form a perfect ‘o’, your tongue swatting around the enticing lines forming. “Tell me more, Lilia, fuck, please, momma.”

There was earnestness in your voice; to hear and absorb, to be at service of every pure wish and filthy desire as if it was your soul purpose. But she fed that self pleasure of yours:

“You want more, darling?” she mused and collided harder against you in order to meet your motion halfway, clutch winding around your shoulders, watching faint and pretty blemishes bloom beneath the thick silver of her jewelry.

“Y-yes—”

Satisfied with your answer, she began to increase your pace and returned to her firmness. “You want to be momma’s good girl?”

“Yes—yes—yes, momma, please—”

Your whines were cut short as her hands came up to tangle in your hair, each individual strand wrapping around her knuckles, her fingertips until she had you tied in ways that felt so fucking perfect and overwhelming all in one tug and whisper: “Then give momma everything, baby. Come.”

Hitching one leg higher up your side, you waste no time in ravaging her until you feel your climax peaking, your frame shaking out of your own control. Nearly out of breath, hysterical trying to find rhythm in your movements from such an intense high after being edged for so long, from trying to focus on pleasing her.

“Good job, darling...” she crooned breathlessly while her sore hips rock against your bruised ones. The band churning in her abdomen twisted to its end over and over at the sound, the nasty feel of slick heat and her skin colliding on yours, fingers bruising and squeezing into the soft and meaty globes of her ass while your mouth moved lower and latched around her nipple.

One last shaky thrust knocked her out of reality and into a world where only the two of you existed. All she saw was her reflection in your blown-out gaze, and all you saw was her: her open and faint red lips, half-lidded chocolate irises, and tumble of silver locks. Your mind was clouded with images of Lilia, your Lilia. This orgasm, its fervency, was nothing similar to those in your past. It slithered through you and into her, coating every fiber and nerve in your beings. The shock of it made you numb to any other existing feeling. All you knew was this, all you wanted her to know, and to experience was the overpowering feeling of coming inside Lilia Calderu as she enveloped you wholly.

Her praises, sweet and gentle, danced in your ears in a melody only familiar to you, soft presses of her lips trickled sweetness upon your flushed cheeks. Digits, gentle as moonlight, traced the rise and fall of your breath, their touch outlining the swell of your breasts, sending a shiver of longing that ripples through you.

The warmth of her fingertips glided over your shoulders and tender forearms as if drawing forth the stars themselves, igniting the quiet spaces where weariness once lived.

“You did so well for me, love…” Your head was tucked into the dip that drew her shoulder and neck together, inhaling deeply. “Was it good? Did I… did you enjoy yourself?”

You hummed and kissed your way up her neck and jaw, to her cheek, and lastly, lovingly her lips. “Honestly, that was the best sex of my life, and I’m hoping now you know why Valentine’s means that much because .... holy fuck.”

A lovely smile illuminated her entire face, mirrored within the brown pools of her eyes, scrunched nose nudging over the bridge of your own. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Lilia.”

Your own smile faltered at the feel of Lilia delivering a fluttering and squelching squeeze around you, lowly moaning as she hummed and regained that titillating spark in her eye. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”

This day had opened Lilia’s mind to a string of new things about you, and she was beginning to learn a thing or so about herself as well, evident in how she allowed for you to shift positions with her now beneath you with a wide grin. It was only now, as she surrendered to your touch, she was beginning to wholly comprehend why exactly her lover adored Valentine’s Day so much, and that maybe it did not exactly lose its full meaning.

[milfloveer]

Hello! Good morning, good afternoon, or good evening! I’d like to know if you accept fanfic suggestions. If so, I’d love to request a fanfic of Lilia Calderu x Female Reader, where the reader is drawing, and Lilia approaches to take a look and asks if she can see the drawing. However, while flipping through some pages, Lilia ends up finding several drawings of herself. It would be similar to that scene from Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, when Gwen picks up Miles’ sketchbook and sees several drawings of her. (I imagine Lilia’s reaction would be the cutest ever (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)).

Drawings of you

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

Prompt: (request)

Warnings: scars and history about them (reader has whip scars)

A/n: Hiiii!!! Thank you so much for the request!! Hope this is what you've asked for, please tell me what y'all think cause I think I've wandered a little 👉🏻👈🏻 Also I added some more plot hope it didn't ruin it tho.

As we finished the second trial, Alice's trial, and made sure Teen was alright we settled down and made a fire so we could rest for the night.

We sat by the fire and were currently sharing our battle scars, Lilia pointed out to her neck pulling her shirt aside making me shift on my seat "Check this out." we all reached a little closer to see better, my cheeks painted with a soft pink and then Jen asked what we were all thinking "What is that?" and Lilia, still showing it says "Vampire bite. Right before I knock out his other tooth." she says making all of us laugh.

Alice then turns to me "What about you, y/n? Do you have any battle scars?" she asks innocently, I couldn't hide my sudden face drop as my body tenses, my eyes fall to Rio cause she knows what my scars are about, her expression unreadable and then my eyes fall to Lilia's, her eyes curious about what I have to show and so I sigh "I do have them, yes. But they're really ugly and how I got them... Well, let's say it's not as funny as Lilia's." I say softly, preparing them to see my scars. I turn around, my back now facing them, and I lift my shirt, they gasp and an 'Oh gods' left Lilia's mouth.

When I turn around they all have a shocking and scared face, I look down at my intertwined hands as I could not bear their gazes directed at me "It all happened when I was in Salem, I was held captive by a powerful man... Not by power tho, but by money and other things, he was well known and respected by the people. So one day he found out I was a witch and how powerful I was, all because of a stupid mistake I've made." I said sighing in frustration memories of that haunting me "All those years he held me captive he made me do things for him, like cure people, read their fortune and if needed I would do some potions and cast some spells.... Curses even. If not or if I did it wrong he would whipp me over and over again until I had no skin left. It was that or burning in a stake." I tell as they all share a look "Dead almost caught me that time." I scoff taking a glance at Rio. Lilia shifts in her seat, her mouth opens to say something, but Agatha arrives and sits down next to Rio, so Lilia stays silent, but her eyes remain in my figure like she's trying to read me just like a book.

To take the tension out and to divert the attention from me I turn to Agatha "Agatha, do you have any battle scars?" I ask and she smirks pulling her sleeve up, Rio makes a snort knowing full well what she was going to show. Her scar is in the elbow "Knitting needle to the elbow." she says while showing it around as we all made a disgusted face "Ever heard of the daughters of liberty?" she asked and we all answered with 'no' while shaking our heads "Exactly." she says making all of us laugh.

And then, out of the blue, Rio says "I've got a scar." as Agatha quickly replies "No you don't." that makes me raise an eyebrow "Yes, I do." Rio reinforces taking a look at Agatha as she keeps explaining "A long time ago I loved someone. And I had to do something I did not wanna do... Even though it was my job. And it hurt them... She is my scar." she finishes and looks directly at Agatha, not even trying to hide who it was. Agatha then gets up saying she needs to stretch her legs and Rio follows her, leaving us four at the fire.

We all look at each other and shrug, I mean we all knew they had an history, it was clear as water, so we didn't bother. It's not like they're gonna tell us anyway.

I take a glance at the three witches "Y'all get some rest, I'll take the first watch." I tell them and they all nod, Jen and Alice got comfortable against the rock they were, Lilia did the same.

To pass time I conjured my sketchbook and pencil so I could draw something and by something I mean the elder wise witch sleeping a couple of feet in front of me. I couldn't take her out of my mind since the first day I saw her at Agatha's house, her curly hair, her curved nose, her soft looking lips, oh how I would love to kiss them, those dark irises I could drown in a matter of seconds, her angelic voice, the whole of her, I could not stop thinking about her and only her. And I couldn't stop drawing her since, my sketchbook was full of her images, profile, full body, different expressions, her hands, her necklace, I couldn't stop, I won't stop.

I now started to draw her sleeping figure, how her body was curled in as she lays on her side facing me, her hands next to her chest in a protective way. She was in a deep sleep as her now relaxed body only moved with her soft breathing. I lost myself in the lines drawing efficiently every detail of her, capturing her essence as she sleeps... But the pencil started to weigh too much and so did my eyelids, I didn't even realise when I fell asleep, sliding into a deep slumber myself.

The shaking of my body and a soft voice is what makes me aware of my sleeping state and so I jump awake "Whoa, calm down, darling, it's just me." Lilia whispers as the rest of the coven is still sleeping, I frown "What's wrong?" I ask confused, she smiles softly "Nothing, dear, I only wanted to put you in a more comfortable position as you were not looking rather comfortable in that one." she says chuckling lightly, she then looks next to me where my sketchbook fell and she reaches for it "Oh, No-" I say trying to stop her but she's quicker than me "I always wondered what you spend so much time drawing about." she says teasingly and opens the book "Oh-" she says as she flips through the pages.

My face turns red, red as a tomato, as a strawberry, as her lipstick "Lilia-" I breathe out, but she looks at me tenderly "These are amazing, darling. But why me?" she asks innocently and I am left with no words, mouth agape as staring embarrassed at her "Have you seen yourself?" I ask, my voice lower than a whisper. She chuckles and shakes her head "No need to be shy now, dear." and my only reaction is to hide my face behind my hands with embarrassment.

Lilia's soft hands grab mine and put them down, her face really close to mine "I really appreciate it." she says and I almost choke with the air on my throat as she leans in and gives me a tender kiss on my cheek. Well if I wasn't red before, now certainly I was, my heart was ready to jump out of my chest as my head was ready to explode "Now, try to rest, dear, I'll take the next watch." she says laughing softly as she backs up to her previous spot.

How am I gonna sleep after this?!

[d-z20]

A Lesson in Witchcraft (NSFW)

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x Reader

Summary: You're studying under the most powerful divination witch on the continent—Lilia Calderu. What began as mentorship soon became something far more personal. But knowledge comes at a cost, and under Lilia’s guiding hand, you’re about to learn your most unforgettable lesson yet.

- OR -

Her methods of teaching you to concentrate on tarot turn out to be far more distracting and she ends up fucking you. Like a lot.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, top Lilia, hints of dom Lilia, plot gets abandoned for porn pretty quick, smidge of soft aftercare, R receives: praise, magic strap, breeding, overstimulation, fingering, oral, I think that's it but I could be wrong

Words: 3.2k

A/N: No body means no death 😤😤 requested fic

AO3 | Masterlist

The villa smelt of aged parchment and burning candles, a mixture that clung to the tapestries and books stacked in precarious piles around the room. The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows against the stone walls, as if whispering ancient secrets to those who knew how to listen. This was Lilia’s domain, her sanctuary, steeped in the echoes of centuries past.

In the moment she had thought would be her last, she had fallen—not onto the waiting swords and to certain death, but into the familiar embrace of her old coven’s residence in Sicily. It was then that she made a choice: no more running, no more denial. She would embrace her truth, her power. And in time, the world would know her name as the greatest divination witch on the continent.

And now, years later, you had sought her out. Desperate. Needing to understand the secrets only she could reveal.

“Tell me,” Lilia said, her voice rich and laced with amusement. “What do you see?”

You exhaled slowly, hands hovering over the tarot spread before you, trying to quiet the thrum of your pulse. The cards blurred under the weight of her gaze. You swallowed hard.

“Concentrate,” she chided, shifting in her seat. The movement was subtle but deliberate, the rustle of her robe revealing the barest glimpse of her thigh. “A divination witch must anticipate what’s to come.”

You bit your lip. You knew what she was doing. Lilia was testing more than just your magical ability—she was testing your control. She always did.

A shiver ran down your spine as she leaned forward, her fingers ghosting over yours. “If you were truly gifted, you’d know what I intend to do next,” she whispered, her breath warm against your ear.

You clenched your fists, struggling to maintain focus. The air crackled with energy as Lilia traced patterns over your wrist, slow, deliberate. No magic bound you, and yet you could not move, rooted to the spot by nothing more than her.

The first touch was gentle—a brush of fingertips down your spine, a shift in the atmosphere that sent heat pooling in your core. Then came the control. Lilia’s presence pressing down on you like a weight, her will wrapping around you tighter than any spell ever could.

She started slow, dragging out each movement, each whisper against your skin. Every time you thought you had a moment to recover, she pushed you further.

Your arousal grew with each teasing touch and lingering glance. Heat curled in your stomach, spreading through your limbs like liquid fire. Your thighs clenched instinctively, already aching, already too aware of the way Lilia toyed with you—keeping you on edge without ever giving you what you so desperately needed. The anticipation itself was maddening, your body betraying you with every sharp inhale, every unconscious tilt of your hips seeking friction that wasn’t there.

"You should have foreseen this," she mused, her voice still poised, still so effortlessly composed. "A good witch always prepares."

Your breath had started to come in ragged gasps, your body trembling under her calculated pace. The tarot cards around you fluttered as if caught in an unseen breeze, the room thick with the scent of magic and something far more intoxicating.

Every nerve in your body felt alight, and your skin was hypersensitive to her every movement. The way her fingers ghosted along your collarbone sent shivers down your spine, the barest press of her nails against your thigh making your breath stutter. It was unbearable—this slow, torturous buildup. Every brush of her lips, every teasing stroke across your burning skin only made the ache between your legs more unbearable, the slickness pooling there undeniable.

Lilia smirked as she traced a lazy circle against the inside of your wrist, watching the way you twitched under her touch. "So responsive," she purred, more to herself than you. "You're practically trembling already."

She finally pulled away, leaving you breathless, your skin flushed with lingering heat. But she was far from finished. Reclining back into her chair, she extended a hand, beckoning you forward with nothing more than a commanding gaze.

"Come," she instructed, voice silk and steel. "Show me how much you've learnt."

Your legs barely held steady as you obeyed, every step reminding you just how wet you were. The evidence of your need slicked the insides of your thighs; the cool air against your heated skin only amplified the ache. The anticipation coiled tight in your stomach; the knowledge that she was watching your every movement made the fire in your veins burn even hotter.

It was only when you reached her that you saw it—her enchanted strap, shimmering faintly with magic, resting against her thigh. Lilia’s ringed fingers traced over the length of it, slow and deliberate, her nails raking just enough to make her shudder. A quiet, pleased sigh slipped past her lips, and for the briefest moment, she bit down on her lower lip, savouring the sensation.

You knew she could feel everything. Every stroke, every touch—it all translated back to her. The way her breathing hitched only made the ache between your legs worse; need coiling so tightly in your stomach it was almost unbearable.

Lilia’s dark eyes flickered up to meet yours, knowing and hungry. She gripped your waist as she guided you onto her lap, the heat of her body seeping into yours, her nails pressing into your skin just enough to keep you grounded. “Come now,” she purred. “I can already tell you’re ready for me.”

"Slowly," she murmured, hands firm yet coaxing as she helped you lower yourself onto her. The moment you sank down, a sharp gasp tore from your lips. You were so worked up, so utterly drenched, that the strap was already slick with your arousal, easing the stretch but doing nothing to dull the overwhelming sensation of being filled.

Lilia hummed in satisfaction, her fingers tightening around your waist as she felt the way you trembled in her grasp. "There... take your time," she encouraged, though the dark gleam in her eyes told you she was savouring every second of your struggle to adjust.

The stretch was overwhelming in the best way. Your walls fluttered around the intrusion, your body instinctively trying to draw her in deeper. The magic woven into the strap pulsed faintly, attuned to your every reaction, making the sensation all the more intoxicating. You swore you could feel her twitch inside you, the enchantment allowing her to share in your pleasure.

Lilia's smirk deepened as she watched you shudder, her grip firm as she guided you further onto her lap. "So eager," her voice was silk and steel. "And so very, very wet."

She didn’t rush you. She simply watched, her eyes half-lidded, absorbing every twitch, every soft gasp you couldn’t suppress. And when you were fully seated, she hummed in satisfaction, tightening her hold on your hips.

“Good,” she praised, her grip shifting as she guided you into motion. “Now, let’s see if you can keep up.”

You barely had a chance to adjust before she took control, lifting and lowering you with practiced ease. Each movement sent sparks through your entire body, pleasure mounting too quickly, too intensely. Your nails dug into her shoulders as she pushed you further, refusing to let you slow.

“Tell me, young one,” she purred, lips ghosting against your throat, “can you divine how many times I intend to make you cum?”

You couldn’t answer. Words failing you as the pleasure built impossibly high, your body surrendering to her guidance. She only chuckled, her grip tightening as she thrust up to meet you, pulling strangled moans from your lips.

Lilia was relentless. She drove you to the edge of an orgasm over and over, her name slipping from your tongue like a prayer. And when she finally allowed you to cum, it was nothing short of ruinous.

She held you close as the aftershocks wracked your body, her fingers tracing idle patterns over your sweat-slicked skin. But she wasn’t finished. Not yet.

She rolled her hips once more, drawing a sharp gasp from you. “We’re not done,” she reminded you, her voice wicked and indulgent. “You can take more.”

Lilia's words seeped into your blissed-out mind, thick with promise. Your body was already trembling; every inch of you hypersensitive to her touch, but she wasn’t offering mercy. She wanted more.

"Up," she instructed, voice velvet-dark, her hands guiding you as if you were no more than a doll in her grasp. Your legs barely cooperated as you lifted yourself off her lap, the motion making you shudder at just how wet you were and how slick the strap had become from your cum. Your thighs trembled as you stepped away, but Lilia didn’t let you go far.

"Over the table," she commanded.

You obeyed on instinct, pressing your hands against the ancient wood, the tarot cards scattered beneath your fingertips, their meanings lost in the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. The cool air kissed your heated skin, but it did nothing to soothe the ache.

Lilia took her time. She traced her fingers down your back, teasing over the curve of your ass before dipping lower, spreading your folds with deliberate intent. A sharp breath left you as she dragged her fingers through your slickness, humming in satisfaction.

"So eager," she mused, her tone almost thoughtful. "So sensitive."

You jolted when she shoved two fingers inside; the stretch so easy, so effortless after everything she had already done to you. Your body clenched around her as she thrust them deep, curling just right.

"L-Lilia—"

She hushed you, her other hand pressing against the small of your back, keeping you pinned as she worked you open with measured strokes. Each push sent you spiralling higher, your legs shaking beneath you, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"You will cum again for me," she purred, her pace quickening, her fingers relentless.

It was impossible to resist. The pleasure slammed into you, violent in its intensity, your body locking up as your next climax tore through you. Your cries filled the dimly lit room, but Lilia wasn’t done.

As your body slumped forward, boneless, she withdrew her fingers, dragging the wetness over your inner thighs, marking you with it. And then, a new pressure—her strap pressing against your entrance once more, still slick with your combined arousal.

"One more," she said, voice dark with promise. "You can give me one more, can't you?"

Your only response was a desperate whimper as she pushed in, stretching you once more, filling you so completely that it sent fresh sparks of overstimulation coursing through your veins.

Lilia chuckled, hands firm on your hips. "Good girl."

Lilia didn’t hesitate. She pulled out and then thrust back in hard, burying herself to the hilt in one swift, punishing movement. The force of it sent you forward, your breath catching in a strangled moan as she filled you.

But this time, she wasn’t just toying with you—she was chasing her own pleasure.

Her grip on your waist tightened as she set a brutal pace, her hips slamming into yours with unrelenting force. Each thrust sent increasingly desperate arousal through you, your body twitching, struggling to keep up with the pleasure that had already wrung you dry.

And then her hand slid lower.

Her fingers—cool, adorned with heavy rings—pressed against swollen clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made you jerk in her grasp. The sensation was too much, too intense, and yet you keened at the contact, pushing back into her touch.

"Lilia—your rings," you gasped, barely able to form words between the relentless rhythm of her hips and the exquisite pressure of her fingers. "They feel so good."

She chuckled darkly, dragging her fingertips over you with teasing precision. "Do they now?"

The contrast of the metal against your overheated skin sent a shiver through you, amplifying every sensation until you were practically sobbing for relief. Lilia only hummed, stroking you with slow, knowing circles as she pounded into you, her own breath coming in ragged gasps.

"You were made for this," she whispered, her voice tight and controlled, though her rhythm was faltering, growing more erratic.

Then, with a deep, low moan, her hips stilled against yours. She pressed in as deep as she could go, her grip turning bruising as she came inside you, the strap pulsing in tandem with her climax. The sensation had you whimpering, your body locking up at the heat that filled you.

She stayed like that for a moment, catching her breath and letting the pleasure wash over her. But she still wasn’t done.

"On your back," she commanded, her voice thick with satisfaction.

Your limbs felt like liquid, barely able to function, but you obeyed. With a soft gasp, you turned onto your back, legs dangling off the side of the table, tarot cards now forgotten beneath you. The room spun with the force of your own exhaustion, but then Lilia was between your legs again.

She pressed a kiss to your trembling inner thigh before dragging her tongue over your pussy, lapping up the mess she had left behind. The sensation had you arching off the table, your hands grasping at the air for something—anything—to ground you.

"Lilia—" you choked, a sob ripping from your throat as she sucked at your sensitive clit, her tongue flicking against it with ruthless intent.

There was no escaping it. You were already too sensitive, too raw, and the moment her mouth sealed around you, another orgasm crashed over you without warning. Your body tensed, legs trembling violently as you came again, your cries echoing through the room.

But Lilia didn’t let up. She took in every drop, drinking in your pleasure like it was the finest wine, her grip firm on your thighs to keep you still as she worked you through your release.

And then—one last time.

She pulled away, her lips glistening, her eyes dark with hunger as she stood. The strap between her legs twitched with renewed magic, still ready, still insatiable.

"One more, just one more," she insisted, dragging you upright and pulling you flush against her. "I want to feel you shatter for me again."

A breathless, wrecked laugh escaped you. “That’s what you said last time,” you managed to protest, your body still trembling, nerves alight with exhaustion and oversensitivity.

Lilia only smirked, utterly unmoved. She brushed a damp curl away from her face before she turned you over and bent you back down against the table.

“You can give me one more,” she murmured, her voice thick with promise. “I know you can.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before she was inside you once more, filling you to the hilt in one swift motion. A cry tore from your throat at the stretch, the wet slapping sound of your bodies meeting nearly obscene in the quiet of the room.

At first, her thrusts were deep and slow, forcing you to feel every inch of her inside you. But as soon as she felt your body respond—felt the way you clenched down around her despite your protests—her pace shifted to be rough and unforgiving.

Your overstimulated body had no resistance left. The moment she angled her thrusts just right, pleasure speared through you like lightning, raw and all-consuming. Your climax tore through you with a force that left you gasping, clawing at her back, your entire body clenching around her in desperate waves.

Lilia groaned, her grip bruising on your hips as she buried herself deep, chasing her own release. A guttural moan escaped her as she spilled inside you once more, her hips stilling for just a moment as she let the aftershocks wash over her.

She didn’t pull away immediately. She stayed pressed against you, her breath ghosting over your skin, her fingers tracing slow, idle patterns over your trembling thighs.

Lilia's gaze lingered on you for a long moment, amusement dancing in her dark eyes as she traced her fingers along your jaw. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she gave her next command.

"On your knees," she spoke, her voice thick with satisfaction. "Clean me up properly."

Your limbs were weak, trembling from the relentless pleasure she had wrung from you, but you obeyed without hesitation. Lowering yourself before her, you grasped her thighs for support, your breath ghosting over her strap, now covered with a mix of both of your cum.

Lilia let out a pleased hum as you took the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue over it before sinking down further. The taste was intoxicating, a mix of everything she had given you.

"Just like that," she praised, threading her fingers through your hair, her grip tightening as she guided your movements. "Such a fast learner."

You hollowed your cheeks, taking more, bobbing your head at the pace she set. Her fingers curled at the back of your skull, her hips rolling forward ever so slightly, pushing deeper into your mouth. The strap twitched against your tongue, carrying the echoes of her pleasure.

A sharp inhale and then a moan.

"You're being so good for me," she hummed, her voice unravelling as she thrust just a bit deeper. "Now, swallow every drop."

You barely had time to prepare before she came once more, herf cum spilling onto your tongue, thick and warm. The sensation alone made your core throb with residual need. You swallowed obediently, not letting a single drop go to waste, your throat flexing around her as she let out a shuddering sigh of satisfaction.

Finally, Lilia loosened her grip, her fingers stroking over your hair in silent approval. She helped lift you to your feet, steadying your shaking form before guiding you toward the chaise lounge in the corner of the dimly lit room.

"Rest, young one," she said gently, draping her coat—rich in golden embroidery and worn with the weight of years—over your shoulders. The fabric smelt like her, like incense and old books, like the very essence of magic itself. You melted into its warmth, exhaling softly as she settled beside you.

Her fingers ghosted over your forehead, brushing damp strands of hair away with unexpected tenderness. It was a stark contrast to the way she had just ravaged you, and yet it felt just as intoxicating.

Then, without a word, she reached for the deck of tarot cards still scattered across the nearby table. With practiced ease, she shuffled, then drew a single card, turning it toward you.

The Page of Pentacles.

Lilia’s lips curled into a knowing smile.

"How fitting," she mused, tapping the card lightly. "A symbol of knowledge... of boundless potential. Of someone eager to learn, grow, and carve their own path."

She tilted your chin up, dark eyes locking onto yours with quiet pride.

"And I believe, my dear apprentice, that you will do just that."

-----

My only hope is that Patti LuPone would approve of this fic

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taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6ange19

[likae]

Timeless Love

starring : lilia calderu x fem reader

sypnosis : an unexpected invite to traverse the road left you and lilia in a dilemma. lilia feels she has to go—fate’s call, if you will. you reluctantly let her go, as it weighs heavily in your heart. it’s only when the moon shines outside that a bond breaks. not to worry, it will soon be rekindled by time.

content : both reader and lilia are married. angst. welcomed hope. your love for each other transcends that of time.

word count : 1526

author’s words : guys, i love angst so much (if you can’t tell already.) i hope you guys enjoy reading !

When the morning started with a woman who wailed as if she came out of a soap opera and a teenager you assumed to be her kid, you had an inkling today wasn’t going to be quiet. What you hadn’t expected, however, was for your wife to be roped into this “walking The Road” nonsense. By Agatha Harkness, no less.

The amount of frustration and anger that seeped into your being couldn’t possibly be explained through words. Lilia, who never failed to calm you down, gently placed an arm on your waist to soothe you. Regardless, you ushered the covenless witch and the nameless child out the door, feeling a tad bit bitter by the thought of your wife venturing on The Road. The invitation had been far too careless, as if they had never thought that you and Lilia’s lives together were far too precious to risk for this supposed “prize.”

Silence enveloped the store, your forehead creasing in stern disapproval. Lilia stayed quiet, instilling discomfort within you. “Lilia?”

She met your eyes, and it told you something weighed on her mind. And that was more than enough to tell you that you wouldn’t like what she was going to tell you next. And she herself knew you’d find the idea distressing.

“I feel as if I have to go, baby,” she softly said, taking your hand in hers.

“For what reason?” You snapped. She took her time to breathe in and out.

“A faint memory from the reading I did with Agatha,” she started, meeting your eyes. “I don’t quite remember what it is, but something tells me I have to go, baby.”

You clicked your tongue, shaking your head. “For that witch? I’d understand if it was some damsel in distress but Agatha Harkness?!” She squeezed your hand—her eyes filled with utmost fervor. You took a moment to collect yourself.

“Lilia…,” you sighed, shoulders slumping. “It’s dangerous to go on The Road. You know that better than I do.”

“I know, baby. I know. But something tells me…” she trailed off.

Your gaze softened, swallowing the growing lump in your throat. Torn between keeping your lover safe and allowing her to go, you tucked a loose curl behind her ear and cupped her cheek. “If you feel that you need to go… go.”

She gave you a small smile and embraced you in a tight hug. You felt as if something heavy had been placed on your shoulders, but you tried not to think too much of it. “Do not be reckless, Lilia. Prioritize your own safety.”

She giggled a little, releasing you from her grasp. “Look at my girl encouraging me to be selfish.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why am I even letting you go?” You muttered.

She scoffed playfully, making her way to the boiling kettle to pour herself some tea. The aroma of the imported tea leaves hits your nose, calming your nerves just a little. You see Lilia pause for a moment before reaching for the pen and paper lying on the coffee table. Your gaze never left her, unsure if you made the right decision. She wrote something down on the paper before folding it in half and placing it back down. She gave you a small smile, and you gave her one back too.

“Are you leaving in the afternoon?” You whispered, approaching her.

“It appears so,” came her quiet reply.

You tried to appear unbothered, but you knew she had already noticed your change in demeanor. The Road may have been just an old tale before, but it sure isn’t anymore. Lilia took a sip of her tea as the quiet in the room filled the air.

“We can spend the rest of our time doing whatever you want, baby,” she said in her teacup before taking another sip.

“Just want to spend time with you, Lils,” you hugged her side. She gave a silent reply by putting her arm around your waist.

Even when you held Lilia tighter, time still ended up passing by. It pained you to see her leave as she reached for her shawl. She gave you a kiss on your forehead and reassured you over and over again that it’ll be fine.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you more.”

And with that, she left. An echo of her presence stayed glued to you, but you tried to shake it off. “She’ll come back,” you thought.

The stars twinkled outside to remind you that the middle of the night had fallen. You dragged your feet on the floor before your eyes caught sight of the cracked vase sitting on the windowsill. You and Lilia had put off replacing it, promising to get it done later. Truthfully, you both never had the plans to—being procrastinators and all. You sighed as you gently picked it up.

You made your way to the living room but stopped when a chill ran down your spine. It shook at your bones, nerves, and everything in between. Then, like it had been practiced before, you felt an intangible tether snap as if it had no choice but to let you go. Something told your soul that your other half departed from the present in that split moment.

An ear-splitting shatter tore through the air, followed by a dull ache in your palm. You cast a fleeting glance on your hand to realize you had dropped the cracked vase—a deep crimson colored your palm, tainting your already wandering thoughts. Your hands started to shake, tears threatened to fall, breathing became harder, and a pit started to form in your stomach. Your eyes darted between your bloodied palm, a golden picture frame, and the cerulean drapes; yellows, reds, and blues meshed into an incomprehensible figure burning itself into your vision.

Lilia.

In that split moment, it felt as if the wind got knocked out of your lungs. Her name barely left the space between your lips. You feared that if you said it any louder, the intimate space of your and Lilia’s shop would give way, crushing you and your soul beneath it. Your vision blurred, and you blinked to let tears escape you. You shifted closer to the coffee table, gripping its edge tightly as if it could ground you as you lowered yourself to sit on the ground. Sobs left your very body while reality settled in.

A piece of paper fell on your side—the same one Lilia left on the table. You sniffed, taking it between your fingers. You remembered the smile she sent your way that morning as her favorite tea traveled through the air. You hadn’t bothered seeing what she wrote, assuming it had been one of her indecipherable writings—the kind she only ever seemed to understand.

Tracing the edge of the folded sheet, you carefully opened it. The way the letters took shape—every bend, every curve—had been so Lilia. You read it. Your heartbeat stuttered, rereading what you had just read: a private letter just for you. But, strangely enough, she seemed to recount events that happened on The Road. Did she experience another gap of time before leaving? And when your eyes reached the last line, the word “goodbye” was the only imprint you could focus on.

“Goodbye for now.”

A cry ripped through your throat, hugging the piece of paper. Denial set in, trying your very best to fight the thought of losing her forever.

Forever?

Lilia could never truly leave you. She seemed to remind you of that fact—the remaining remnants of her tea leaves, the cards stacked on the kitchen counter, and the remaining perfume that lingered in the air. You breathed it in, hoping your shaky breathing could help you. But still, you trusted Lilia. Lilia had a reason to go. You may not fully understand—the words of the letter not fully reaching you just yet—but you knew that she had a reason.

And whatever reason that is, you believed in her.

Your eyes trailed to the sentences just before “goodbye,” and it read:

“We’ll see each other again soon, baby.”

And you felt reminded of something.

Time runs in a circle—a loop. It ends, and it begins. Again. And again. And again. In every breath, every thought, every beat of your heart, you will inevitably fall in love with her, as she does with you. You will inescapably experience grief and pain. Again. And again. And again.

Like a never-ending story.

But oddly, just like what Lilia had written, you felt reminded of something. That the love you both shared and the pain you both feel transcends that of time. That even the present cannot cage the past nor the future. That you, and you alone, are more than enough for her to live through it all. Again. And again. And again

You let out a shaky sigh and looked at the letter again. A strong resolve settled in your heart: if grief was the price you had to pay to love her in every lifetime, then you were more than willing to accept it.

If this was the end, may the beginning come greet you sooner.

p.s. : hiya ! have u eaten and slept well? i hope u have! pls take care of urself as always!! i hope u enjoyed reading :3 !!

[sweetestberryofthebunch]

Ultra Violet - Devil Wears Prada AU (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

When you struggle to find your footing at your new job at renowned Fashion Magazine Runway, a secret Guardian angel decides to help you out. Your mysterious fashionable gifts seem to catch even your stone cold, stern boss's eye. You can’t help but wonder if maybe Agatha Harkness knows more than she lets on.

Content/Warnings: The Devil Wears Prada!AU, CEO!Agatha x Assistant!Reader and the power dynamics that come with that, No pronouns or gendered terms used for R

✨Happy Valentine‘s Day my little loves! Get yourself a sweet cup of coco, a heart shaped treat and enjoy some all inclusive CEO!Agatha fluff!✨

Your new job at Runway was both the best and worst decision you had made your entire life.

Pay was better than the small tabloid you‘d written for until now, their reputation in the industry was insurmountable, and the office had a portafilter espresso machine. All your friends were especially jealous of that one. You’d landed a well paying position at one of the most prestigious fashion magazines in the world.

But that was also the problem. The Fashion. And, if you really boiled it down, your snobby, ruthless, obsessed with shallowness boss.

Agatha Harkness, head and face of the company. An icon of the scene, a trailblazer in the industry (at least that was what your coworkers told you.) Stoic, opinionated, and most of all, impossible to please.

Jen made sure to let you know about that. She had been Second Assistant before you got hired, but now she was promoted to First Assistant and you filled the new position.

She had explained the hierarchy to you in hushed whispers over morning coffee one day, while Mrs Harkness door had been shut and all you could hear were muffled voices arguing behind it.

Jen and your desks were in the hallway just outside, left and right to Harknesses door like two obedient guard dogs. You wondered if that was how she saw you, if she paid enough mind to her assistants for that at all.

It was only your fifth day working at Runway, and your To Do List was nothing but overwhelming. Meanwhile, Mrs Harkness barely spared you a glance, dropping her coat on your desk in the morning without a word, without even a glance, expecting things to be done and never returning a single gesture of gratitude. And everyone, including Jen, just jumped at her bid and word, like she was Queen of the world. It was … a lot.

„Who needs two Assistants anyway?“, you murmured with a chuckle as the meeting seemed to heat up, only to be met by a panicked stare from Jen.

„Don’t ever question Agatha Harknesses choices!“, she‘d tutted, and she looked like she had more to say. But she was interrupted by the door to the hallway where your desks were situated swinging open.

Lillia Calderu, head of the Runway Archives a few floors below dropped a thick binder of fabric samples onto your desk. Strips of dyed denim, all shades of purple so close to each other, you could barely tell a difference. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve laughed.

„What are you two whispering about?“, Lilia asked loudly, only to be met by both you and Jen shushing her sharply.

The voices behind the door to Mrs Harknesses raised in volume, and Lilia swallowed hard.

„I see“, she immediately switched to a whisper tone. „Vidal?“, she asked Jen, who nodded. They shared a serious look, flinching at the yelling.

You bit your lip, glancing from Jen to Lilia. The older woman took a deep breath, leaning against your desk, a hand on her hip.

„Rio wasn’t happy with the placement of her interview in the June Issue“, Jen explained, „I‘ve been getting angry calls from her secretary for days. Now Vidal showed up in person without making an appointment. Had to push back Calvin Klein, they were not happy.“

„What a glorious first week“, Calderu shook her head, giving you a sympathetic look. „Good Luck, Newbie“, she said, and then, her glance slowly dragged down your form, taking in your large green sweater and simple black jeans and sneakers. Her eyes widened, and as she looked back at Jen, she visibly shuddered, „You’re going to need it.“

„What, is something wrong with how I look?“, you gasped, loud enough to get another sharp shush from the other two.

You looked over at Jen, who just shook her head, raising her shoulders in a small shrug. „To be honest, we’ve all been wondering how you got this position in the first place. You‘re not exactly Runway material.“

„Or sidewalk material for that matter“, Lilia added, and Jen clutched her pearls dramatically, trying to stifle her laughter.

„You‘re not wrong, Calderu.“

You shot Jen a hurt look, ready to defend yourself. You were Second Assistant, most of your work happened on the phone, who cared if you wore Armani or not? After all, you had studied Journalism, not Fashion! And you were more than capable of showing professionalism in your profession!

But before you could give the two women a piece of your mind, the door flew open, and a dark haired woman in a suit strutted past you, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

„Admit it Agatha!“, she snarled, glaring back into the office over her shoulder, „This had nothing to do with the collection and everything with your own stubbornness!“

The woman, Vidal, turned around on her heels, dark hair whipping over her shoulder. As she turned, her eyes focused on you, and she froze in her tracks.

„Oh“, a dangerous little smirk formed on her lips. „You‘re new. Clearly.“

She took a step closer, Lilia moving out of her way as she did. Dark eyes watched your every movement like a lynx stalking its prey, and you suddenly felt incredibly exposed, even behind your desk. When she noticed you shudder, Vidal grinned, exposing her teeth.

„They really let anyone work here these days.“, raising her voice loud enough that it echoed through the hallway, she added „Who let the little barista in?“

To your horror, both Jen and Lilia just shrugged, not saying a word in your defense. Stupid, shallow Fashion industry.

Rio Vidal leaned over your desk, dangerously close to your face. She placed one hand on either side of you, practically caging you into your seat. Her voice was low as she smirked down at you, teeth exposed. „Aggie is going to eat you alive, little mouse. Better run while you can.“

„Rio!“, Mrs Harkness' voice rang from her office, a sharp cut through the air.

All four of you whipped your heads around, even Rio, finding the woman leaning against her office door, arms crossed, legs perfectly accentuated by a fitted culotte, a matching blazer draped over her shoulders, silk scarf loose around her neck. Her brow was creased, and sharp, ice cold eyes stared Rio down like a hawk. „Our meeting is over, Vidal. Get your ass out of my office. And“, her jaw tensed, eyes flitting over to you for less than a second. „Don’t touch my stuff.“

There was a slight frown on her face and you wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground and fall through all nine floors of the building.

But still, Rio listened. With a scoff, the dark haired woman pushed herself off your desk, brushing past Lilia as she made her way towards the door.

„I‘m so sorry!“, Jen started babbling the moment the elevator doors closed and swallowed Vidal up, „She stopped for us, we did not-“

„Silence, Kale.“ Agatha didn’t even bother to look at her. Instead, her cold eyes closed in on Lilia. „Have your coffee break elsewhere, Calderu. There is no reason for you to linger around up here. And you, pet.“, her head whipped around, ice cold stare piercing right through you.

„Starting Monday, I want to see initiative. It’s time to take this Job seriously.“

Just like Rio had done just minutes before, Harkness leaned over your desk, glaring you down as she invaded your space. You leaned backwards into your chair, resisting the urge to flinch away. Blue eyes wander down your front, lingering over your exposed throat for just a moment longer. „And no more green at the office.“

Just as fast as she had leaned in, she was gone again, leaving your heart beating out of your chest, hands curled around the arm rests of your chair so tight, your knuckles turned white.

Agatha was already halfway back to her office. „Accompany Calderu back to her office, pet. I don’t want to see you when I leave. And next week, you either show up dressed like you want this, or don’t bother showing up at all.“

You weren’t ever going to admit it to anyone, especially Jen, but that night you crawled into the back of your uber with tears in your eyes. Fuck your stupid boss and her stupid standards and your stupid coworkers who only cared about appearances! Your work was hard, and ungrateful, and no one seemed to care that you did every little task, every small favour that wasn’t in your job description at all, and you did them all marvelously. But still, no one had your back because you wore converse instead of Louis Vuittons. Not even in front of your boss and her infamous ex wife, known for always somehow ending up closer to Agatha than the Runway CEO would like. Even then, in front of two of the most powerful women in the business, no one felt the need to stick up for you.

When you stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of your home, your uber gave you a worried look, and it only made you cry harder.

However, someone seemed to have your back.

As you walked up the stairs to your front door, you noticed a single package. A white box, even adorned with a lilac bow on top of it. And, when you crouched down to inspect the mystery package further, it had your name written on it at the top.

No tape or even a stamp, just a single gift box with a bow, looking like someone had snatched it away from under a Christmas tree. It wasn’t Christmas though, and it wasn’t your birthday either. It was a regular Friday, only tainted by the tears you‘d just spilled over your stupid job.

When you opened the box, carefully pulling at the lilac ribbon, your confusion didn’t let off either. In fact, you were even more lost with the contents.

A pair of black slacks, the fabric smooth and organic. No polyester in sight, this was high quality fabric. When you held them up, something fell out of the left pocket.

A card, a lapel pin attached to it. Fine, polished silver wrapping around a single, sparkling amethyst.

On the backside was a note, written in a cursive so filigrane that at first, you thought it must be printed.

No more jeans. Time to dress for the job you got.

You glanced up, but the street was empty, no cars other than resident vehicles parked under the flickering street lights. Whoever had dropped off this mystery gift had not stuck around. You swallowed, taking the box and bringing it inside. Maybe there was hope for you.

The gifts didn’t stop there. On Monday, you sat down at your desk, wearing your nice, new slacks and a slightly less washed out sweater today, you found another little box, the same white cardboard, the same ribbon. This one was way smaller though, small enough that Jen didn’t seem to notice from across the room as you unwrapped a brand new, sleek watch. The wrist band was incredibly light and slick, the watch itself small but neat, and the pointers were adorned with the tiniest little diamonds, tainted a bright blue if you held them up to the light. Underneath the watch was a note again. Neat cursive.

Meeting with Dior in 10, not 20. Wear the watch.

You bit the inside of your cheek, but before you could think about it, Jen hung up her current phone call, stress written all over her face.

„Dior called, they are coming in-“

„10, not 20“, you gave her a firm nod, „Don’t worry, I‘ll meet them and take notes for Harkness, you do the evaluation with Lilia.“

As you got out of your seat, you slung the new watch around your wrist. It sat perfectly. Jen gave you a confused but appreciative once over.

„Okay“, she said, „See you in 30.“

On Wednesday, you rushed in from driving Agatha’s son to soccer practice to find the hallway empty. Jennifer must have gotten stuck in a meeting. However, that wasn’t what caught your interest. As you put your laptop down, you noticed another box, this one sitting right in the seat of your chair. It was bigger than the others, and as you pulled the lid off, you were met with a bubble wrap. Whatever was in here, it was packaged like something incredibly precious. You bit your own tongue, anticipation bubbling up inside you. And then you unwrapped it.

A leather jacket. A little scuffed, worn in at the elbows. Definitely vintage, worn before. The arms were studded by silver rings, from the shoulders down to the cuffs. It was gorgeous, and vaguely familiar.

Behind you, you heard the clinking of porcelain, and then a sharp curse. When you spun around, Jen was already halfway across the room towards you, ignoring the fact she‘d spilled fresh coffee all over her desk.

„Where did you get that?“, she asked, panic in her voice. You clutched the jacket a little tighter.

„I found it here. Must be a gift.“

Jen came to a halt right in front of your desk, both hands immediately diving into the box on your seat.

„Hey!“, you nudged her away with your hip, but Jen‘s stance was firm, „Stop that!“

“Absolutely not!“, the first assistant just replied, „As per usual, you have no idea what any of this is about!“

„Then you should tell me, as first assistant and all!“, you shot back, and Jen let out a deep sigh.

„1998. Agatha Harkness gets photographed by paparazzi leaving Rio Vidal‘s mansion. The jacket she wore started a trend that didn‘t settle until denim took over in the 2000s.“ She gave you a long, serious glare. „You are holding that jacket.“

Before you could process what she just told you, and what any of that meant, your coworker already dove back into the box. At the bottom was a folded piece of cardboard, just off white and high quality. There was a set of simple, silver cuff buttons attached to it. Jen snatched the note out before you even had a chance to grab it.

„You polish up nice. Pair with a dress shirt.“ She read out loud, gasping.

„No signature? I can’t believe this! There is no way this left the archive without Mrs Harknesses permission.“

You reached for the note, but Jen took a step backwards, holding it out of your reach. Damn her and her high louis vuittons.

Her eyes closed in on you, pointing an accusatory finger at you. „This is why you‘ve been looking good! Someone is playing dress up with you! Do you have a secret admirer in the archives?“

„I don’t know who these are from!“, you told her truthfully, holding the leather jacket close to your chest. You still weren’t 100% sure she wasn’t just going to tear it from you.

„But … Someone‘s been helping me. Lilia has been a lot kinder since I changed the way I dress, even you shared your salad with me the other day!“

Jen creased her brow at that, glancing from the note in her hand to your face and back.

„I guess there hasn’t been any complaints from downstairs either. Whoever sends you stuff does so fair and square.“ She huffed, nose wrinkling, then shrugged, finally handing you the note. Soft, high quality paper, like artists used for Aquarelle painting. The same neat cursive as the other one.

Jen watched you and shook her head. „Whoever is sending you these is right though. You need a button up with this. And some good shoes.“

As if your secret angel had heard her, the next day, you found a bag with the Lauren Ralph Lauren logo printed on it under your desk. Inside was a shoe box. A pair of sleek black ankle boots, shiny, real leather, a minimal heel to give you just a little bit of extra height, but small enough to keep the shoe androgynous and cool. This time, there was no extra goodie attached to the note, however, when you turned it in your hand, a sour, citrusy scent found your nose. The paper was doused in perfume. This time, when you read the note, a smile slowly but surely crept up onto your features.

Looking good. Now show them exactly who you are, pet.

You licked your lips in excitement, glancing up from your desk. Mrs Harkness office door was closed, her way of letting you know she wanted no disturbances right now.

However, you could hear that one Lorna Wu song playing behind the door, the smooth sound of a record player unmistakable. You were starting to get an idea of who might be behind your sudden gift shower.

By Friday, you had an almost entirely revamped closet, held in shades of violet, plum and indigo. Today, you wore a flowy, long sleeved shirt made out of what you were pretty sure was pure dyed silk, the amethyst earrings and a matching bracelet, the slacks that had started all of this. You looked stylish, young, professional. You looked like you weren't a second assistant, but editor of Runway, and you carried yourself through the hall like it too, dropping the leather jacket on your chair as you passed your desk. Jen looked up from her laptop when you came passed, giving you an impressed nod.

„I‘m gonna be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you.“

You let out a little snort, leaning against her desk. „Thanks Jen, you look great today too.“ She always did, of course. Jen had this game figured out like no other. No matter how much Mrs Harkness had to complain about her work ethic or her shitty handwriting or the coffee Jen bought her being just a little too sweet, not even the Wicked Witch of Runway could criticise Jennifer's style. But, if you were quite honest, you started to feel like you were holding up pretty well yourself. This morning when you‘d dropped off a new collection for the Archive, Lilia had pulled you into a tight hug, before introducing you to one of the photographers. She‘d never done anything of the sorts before. When you walked down the hallway, a binder or a bag of clothes or Agatha‘s lunch order in your hand, people greeted you, some even stepped out of the way now.

„So“, you flipped open your notebook, glancing at your To Do List for the day. „What does the afternoon look like for us?“

„I‘m dropping Nicky off at Alice‘s for his guitar practice.“ She explained, „And on the way back I‘ll stop by Gucci to pick up some samples. Agatha has calls until four, and expects her afternoon latte immediately after. Until then, you’re on phone duty.“ Jen gave you a small smile, and you dared to see pride on her face. „Nothing you can’t handle, superstar.“

That afternoon, you knocked at your bosses door no less than two minutes after she‘d finished her last call. You had a tray with her drink and a salmon cream cheese bagel, the mug still steaming as you peaked into the door.

„Coffee’s ready!“, you announced, ready to put the tray down and disappear again.

However, to your surprise, Agatha told you to come inside. You closed the door behind you, putting her order down on her desk before stepping away, feeling oddly exposed in the middle of the room like that.

You’d barely seen her all week, she was always either on the go but in a conference. But yesterday, as she had brushed past your desk, phone in hand as she’d once again yelled at Vidal about … something, you imagined that for the splinter of a second, she‘d winked at you in passing.

Now, Agatha‘s eyes dragged down your form, and for the first time this week, she genuinely smiled. Taking a sip of her latte, she gave you a satisfied nod.

„You may not look like a barista anymore, but I swear this stuff has been better since you started to do the coffee run.“

You caught your lower lip between your teeth. „Thank you, Mrs Harkness.“

Then, as you turned to leave, Agatha called out to you again.

„Wait up, pet.“

You froze, glancing over your shoulder back at her. There was an unreadable glimmer in her eyes, tainted lips curled into a small smirk. „Add whatever you like to drink to the order tomorrow. Use my card.“

You couldn’t help but gasp, smile so wide you quickly had to turn away, before she could see. This was entirely new. Coffee run meant a drink for Agatha, sometimes one for Lilia. Never for the assistants. Well, until now. „Thank you, Mrs Harkness.“

„Call me Agatha.“

„Of course, Agatha.“ Her name rolled off your tongue surprisingly easy, like it had always belonged there. You bit back a grin, feeling your stomach tighten. Her undivided attention felt like opiates in your system, made you feel like you were floating on clouds above the world. Like you wanted nothing else, ever again. It was dizzying.

„Come over here“, Agatha’s voice brought you back to reality. It was calm, and she nodded towards her desk, cluttered with notebooks, concept art and prior issues of the magazine. Every night before you left, you made sure to organise it, but over the course of just one day, Agatha always managed to restore the chaos.

Right now, she was getting off her seat, putting down her cup. To your surprise, she had foregone stockings today, bare skin under her deep purple, tight pencil skirt. The matching blazer was draped over the back of her chair, sleeves of her white shirt pushed up to her elbows. It was unusually casual, uncharacteristically human. It was intimate.

Your stomach did a little flip, stepping forward to stand in front of her desk as she had ordered. The quiet obedience gained you a satisfied little nod.

„You’ve been cleaning up quite well, pet.“

If you thought about it, you didn’t mind the pet name at all.

Praise from Agatha was a rare treat, if you believed Jen, it was near impossible. You played with the rings adorning your fingers, glancing down at the tips of your polished, shiny black boots.

Agatha paced around her desk in a slow circle, until she was standing right behind you. „Everything I’ve heard about you has been nothing but positive.“

Goosebumps rose on your skin. „Thank you, Mrs Harkness.“

She tutted. „I told you to call me Agatha.“

A warm hand grazed your hip, and you exhaled sharply at the touch. „And here I thought you were good at taking orders.“ She glanced at you over your shoulder, a mocking pout on her lips.

Her fingers curled around the silky fabric of your shirt for a mere moment before letting go again.

„Turn around.“ You spun around to face her without missing a beat.

Agatha‘s eyes dragged over your blouse, along your shoulders, your collarbones exposed by the silky fabric, dipping lower for just a moment. Your breath hitched.

She took a step forward, into your space. Instinctively, you took a step back. The air got sucked out of your lungs when you felt the desk press into the back of your legs. You were now caged in between Agatha‘s presence in front of you and her desk behind you.

Your boss seemed unbothered, her hand reaching out, running over the neatly folded collar of your shirt. You’d added the lapel pin to it, the silver reflecting in the blue of her eyes. You swallowed, and her glance focused on the movement of your throat.

„Gorgeous“, she murmured, and you weren’t sure what exactly she meant. You imagined you saw her lick her painted lips, but you weren’t sure. Either way, goosebumps tickled your arms, your chest, all over your skin.

Agatha’s index finger and thumb take your collar between them, silky, deep purple fabric running through her hold. You felt her gently tug on the fabric and your heart skipped a beat. The only thing you wanted was for her to touch your skin instead.

But then she spoke, and it took every fibre of your being to concentrate on her words.

„Ultra Violet, the Pantone Color of the Year in 2018“, her lips pursed into a dangerous, thin smile, „Do you know why that is?“

She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she took another step closer. You swallowed hard, halfway sitting on her desk now, knees sliding apart automatically as she stepped between them. You didn’t stop her, just held still as she invaded your space. It was like there was electricity flimmering through the air.

“George Hobeika Fall 2017 Couture showcase. He comes to me with a collection of deep oranges and reds. Orange for fall? How original. I send him a note telling him to shove his off the rack bullshit back to where he must be hiding that visionary spirit he claims to have. The color of the paper?“ Her brows raised, blue eyes unreadable as she scanned your face expectantly.

„Ultra Violet“, you guessed, and the pleased curl of her lips has your heart almost beating out of your chest.

„Exactly“, she murmured, so close that you felt her breath on your face. „Ultra Violet. The colour of the standout dress of the show, the colour you saw on every Magazines front page for a full year after.“ She chuckled, tugging on your collar just the smallest bit. The upper button came undone. You didn’t stop her.

Agatha’s voice dropped. „I send Kale to buy office supplies once and the entire fashion industry bends over backwards for me.“

Her fingers let go of your blouse. Instead, her thumb hooked underneath your chin, tilting your head upwards. There was no escape to her intense eye contact now. Her voice was low, amused. She practically purred at you.

„And look at you, wearing my color, seven years later.“

She took another step towards you. Her hips pushed against yours now, and your hands found the surface of her desk behind you, pushing yourself upwards as she pinned you against it. Her body was warm against you, even through layers of expensive satin and velvet. It was only now that you noticed your blouse matched the colour of her skirt, of her blazer. Her rings were adorned with the same amethysts that dangled off your ears.

All the little gifts on your desk, every single item in your new, professional closet, they all had one thing in common. Ultra Violet. The colour of the Woman herself. Every single thing that made Jen green with envy or Lilia whistle impressed, they weren’t just gifts from a secret admirer who wanted to help you. They were territorial markings. They were hers. You were hers, visible to everyone’s eyes.

Blue eyes twinkled down at you in approval, the realisation written all over your face.

„My colour, all over you“, Agatha purred, her thumb dragging along your jaw, up towards your cheekbone, and then slowly towards your slightly parted lips. Her touch was gentle and you stopped breathing at the feeling, trying hard not to lean into the touch. But then, her hand found your hair, fingers curling into it, pulling you closer. Her other hand slipped around your waist, palm pressed firmly against your lower back. A familiar scent found your nostrils, sour and citrusy.

She was so close, you felt every single one of her words on your lips.

„You wear it so well.“

That was when the knot inside you snapped. All restraints, every last ounce of professionalism flew right out the window. Your eyes fell shut. It took barely a slight nudge of your chin to close the gap between you. Finally, your lips were on hers.

Agatha was firm against you. The sweetness of Charlotte Tilbury matte lipstick met your tongue, her painted lips creamy and soft against you. She kissed you with vigour, her hand firm on your lower back as she pushed you flush against her. She leaned forward, pushing you onto her desk with strong arms. Your shirt slipped off one shoulder and you let out a surprised squeal. Agatha took the opportunity and slipped her tongue between your lips. The faint bitterness of Espresso hit your tastebuds, her tongue dancing around you with the confidence of a leading dance partner.

Your hands found her shoulders as your back hit the surface of her desk, pulling her down with you. Holding onto her tightly as she stood between your legs, she kept you in place exactly where she wanted you with the hand in your hair.

A little moan escaped your lips, devoured immediately by her mouth against yours, and her teeth grazed over your swollen bottom lip.

Suddenly, the penetrant sound of a new notification cut through the air. On the other end of the desk, Agatha‘s phone lit up, vibrating once.

A part of you wanted to grab the damn thing and throw it out the window into the night, but you also wanted to keep your job. Now more than ever, actually.

So, as Agatha pulled away, adjusting her blazer as she did, you pulled your shirt back in place as well. But not with a frustrated little sigh, sitting up on her desk as she gave you a warning look with raised brows.

While you were still catching your breath, Agatha stepped around her desk casually, reaching for her phone before turning to the skyline behind her desk, New York City gleaming back at her in shades of Neon and Steel blue. The bright Purple Runway sign from above your building tainted the entire street in a faint violet light. Her mark was everywhere.

Agatha‘s brow creased as she typed into her phone.

„Before you go home, make a dinner reservation for two at the French Place at the Boulevard. 9 pm sharp. Message Nicky‘s babysitter to let her know I‘ll be late.“, she said matter of factly, and you scrambled for your notepad to write down everything she told you. Even your notepad was purple. How had you never noticed that until now?

„And remember to pick up your suit for Vidal‘s Gala before Saturday. You’re going to need a fitting.“ You tried to ignore the way your heart leaped in your chest. Your first event as her assistant, and she was taking you and only you!

“Oh, and Y/N,“ Your name on her lips was new, and it was exciting. You felt your chest flutter at the sound.

Agatha turned back around to look at you, the city lights illuminating her form. Her lipstick had smudged the slightest bit, but it did not ruin the image of perfection she was. If anything, it just made your stomach burn even hotter. Her eyes found yours and there was a twinkle in them, lips curled into a subtle smirk.

“You have Dinner at the French place on Boulevard at 9. There‘s an outfit waiting for you in the Archive.“

A knowing smirk tugged at your lips, raising a brow at her. „I must polish up nice to wear archived items.“

Agatha tutted, bright eyes twinkling. „You have been.“

[vidals-harkness]

hey! Could I make a request of more agathario as users mothers? Reader goes with Agatha on the witches road and they reunite with mami Rio? And reader is young? Thanks!🤍

hola mi vida (agatha harkness, rio vidal)

summary: when mama takes you with her on the witch’s road, what can she do when you meet your mami again, after all the years of her vanishing?

fic type: fluff

pairings: agatha harkness x child!reader, rio vidal x child!reader

word count: 2.3k

It was just a normal afternoon—the air was calm, quiet, cool with the shy onset of autumn. The park was not deserted, as you sat on the swings, using a stick to trace patterns on the ground. Or rather, Wiccan symbols that the town children always saw you making (and made a point to stay away from you about).

It was only when you skipped home, sage and stick in hand, that you saw the door blown down, a random boy in the hallway all tied up, and your mother going off her rocker.

“Mama?” You questioned, confused.

“No time to talk, hon, grab that bag and let’s get in the car,” she said, pointing at your school bag on a chair.

“But mama we don’t—“ you began, confused, but she simply grabbed your bag, picked you up and whisked you away into the car. Or rather, Teen’s car.

“You trust me?” She asked, buckling you in.

You nodded, fidgeting with your stick. “Mhm,” you hummed.

She smiled and winked, linking her pinky with yours, kissing it gently. “Mama always protects you, okay?”

“Okay,” you giggled.

“So…she’s yours?” Teen asked, pointing at you in the backseat where you sat, playing with some sort of wooden puzzle from your bag.

“No,” Agatha said, sarcastically. “I picked up a random six year old in the park cause I’m a pedophile,”

At his gobsmacked expression, she frowned, irritated, “Of course she’s mine, pet, look! Don’t you see the resemblance?”

You look at Teen through the rearview mirror and smiled angelically. Apart from maybe your facial structure you took after Rio more than her.

“Doesn’t matter, just drive,” she sighed, irritated.

The first stop was Lilia’s house, which seemed like a nice place. Except the energy felt a little too buzzed for your liking.

“Alright hon, you don’t talk unless I tell you to, okay?” Agatha said, kneeling at your level, a smile on her face. “And if Mama makes a silly voice, you don’t question it,”

You nodded, smiling at her. “Okay, mama!”

“That’s my girl,” she said, pinching your cheek gently, standing up and putting her hair in a bun before wrapping a shawl around her shoulders.

The place was as odd as its energy, with you disliking the sound of clattering beads from the bead curtain, hand holding your favourite stick (rather a crooked wand Agatha didn't use anymore).

"Welcome to the curious," said Lilia, appearing from the back room.

You looked at the lady, frowning, "You're kooky,"

"Now, now, sweetheart, we ain't rude to the nice lady," Agatha spoke in a thick Southern accent. "Good day, madam, Oh. Thank you so much for seein’ us. We are hopin’ for a miracle today,"

You looked at Agatha weirdly, confused with her accent. She never talked like this usually...did she?

"This is my boy, Beauford, and my princess Charlotte here," she smiled, pointing at you both. When Teen went to protest, she shut him up, "He doesn’t talk much. He’s got social anxiety. Their daddy recently passed, and we miss him somethin’ awful."

A long while and several witches later, you stood in Agatha's basement with the other witches, happily vibing with their rendition of the Ballad. However, just as the door made itself known, the Salem Seven crashed into the house, Teen coming downstairs in a flurry of panic to scoop you up and dash down the Road's entrance.

The first trial passed, with only one casualty--Mrs. Davis, but it left you mostly shaken up. You had never seen so many witches hallucinate single-handedly before.

The forest was quiet, the only sound being that of the shovel scraping the ground as Teen dug a grave for Mrs. Hart.

You knelt next to the dead woman, tilting your head as you peered at her, poking her with your stick gently.

“Mama?” You asked, looking at Agatha. “Mama, she feels very not-alive,”

“Yeah hon,” she smiled, side-eyeing Jen. “Because Jen didn’t give her enough antidote so she is now not-alive,”

“Are you really badmouthing me to a six year old, Agatha?” Jen deadpanned. “How petty can you be?”

“Very, apparently,” Lilia rolled her eyes.

“Kooky lady is correct,” you nodded, earning a snicker from Alice.

“I’m not kooky!” Lilia scowled at you, only to receive an angelic smile in return.

You hummed to yourself as you walked around the clearing while the adults and Teen argued.

At the mention of an incomplete coven, you tugged at Agatha’s sleeve, asking softly, “Mrs. Hart wasn’t a witch, so if this is the Witch’s Road, can’t you call for a green witch?”

“Yes, thank you, little one!” Teen said, pointing at you. “How does a six year old have more brains than you all combined?”

“People have told me I’m something called ‘insightful’,” you shrugged.

“More like irritating,” Lilia scowled, looking at you.

“She isn’t the one bickering like a bunch of old ladies, is she?” Agatha shrugged. “Now come on, we have a spell to cast. Vamonos,”

You skipped after her, excitedly, helping her map out the person shape on the ground with your stick.

“Am I helping nice, mama?” You asked her, grinning proudly.

She nodded, fixing the outline, kneeling at the border of it. “Oh absolutely, sweet girl. The most helpful out of all these idiots,”

You smiled angelically, making her mutter, “You sure as hell didn’t get that smile from me, that’s for sure,”

As the witches gathered to start their spell, you stood with them—young magic was the most effective, honestly.

“May she be strong and wise, and the best at her craft,” said Lilia, placing down a crystal.

“May she be smart and not annoying,” said Agatha, placing another thing down, adding, “And also, not super political,”

“May she be pleasant looking,” said Jen, wrinkling her nose.

“Can she bring some Advil?” Alice sighed, placing her crystal down.

“Can she annoy the kooky lady?” You asked as Agatha tapped your shoulder to put your offering down. “May she be…fun,”

“I’m not kooky!” Lilia snapped at you.

“Are too!” You giggled, sticking your tongue out at her.

“Y/n, for the love of god just behave,” Agatha sighed. “I can’t deal with this right now,”

“Now what?” Teen interjected.

“Now we wait,” said Lilia. “True witchcraft takes time. The spell must marinate, gestate—“

She was interrupted by a hand sticking out of the mud behind you all, causing a scream to erupt from everyone.

Agatha shoved you back, arms out protectively as you giggled excitedly at the sight.

“Agatha, what did you do?!” Jen exclaimed.

“What do you mean, what did I do? This was very clearly a group effort!” She protested.

“It’s so silly!” You squealed, laughing at the cracking noises the witch’s bones made as she emerged from the ground.

“Your kid is a psycho like you!” Jen said, judging you as you laughed like this was a particularly funny episode of Bluey.

“She’s got character!” Agatha retorted sharply.

“Oh, my God, did we turn Mrs. Hart into a zombie?” Teen exclaimed.

“What spell did we cast?” Alice cried out.

Panicked and looking into Teen’s spell book. “Why is the print so small?” She wailed.

The witch righted herself, and you peeked from behind Agatha, intrigued and suddenly elated to see who it was.

Mami.

“MAMI!” You squealed, about to run to Rio, happy beyond belief.

“Heard you guys were having a party?” Rio gasped. She looked over at you, winking, “Hola nena,”

“How did you…” Agatha breathed, horrified, keeping you back despite your indignant squirming.

“I was in the neighborhood,” she gasped, opening her palm to reveal a flower. “Surprise. My lady,”

Agatha snatched the flower, screamed, and tried to attack her, but everyone held her back, Jen and Alice keeping her in check.

“We just summoned her!”

“We need her,”

As Agatha stormed off, Teen followed. You didn’t care about her little temper tantrum. It wasn’t the first you’d seen her have.

You were more concerned about Rio.

She was your Mami, the one who would play pranks on Agatha with you, the one who could calm you down in even the worst meltdowns, the one who accompanied you to the park every time the bullying got bad. Your Mami.

You hugged her tightly. She smelt the same, she felt the same. She was soft, she was the comforting kind of cold. She smelt like earth and old books and cinnamon, a scent so familiar that it made you bury your face into her robe to simply take in her scent.

“Nena,” she laughed. “You got so big,”

“I’m six, mami!” You gave her a broad grin, looking up at her.

“I guess we know now where the psycho comes from,” Jen muttered.

“Hey, what’s up, I’m Rio,” she said, nodding at them, still holding you close.

The three gave her a quiet, somewhat terrified and awkward greeting, before she gave them a cheeky grin and went after Agatha.

“So what do you think, can we trust her?” Alice asked.

“Agatha hates her, I’d say that goes in the ‘pro’ column,” Lilia shrugged.

“I mean…the kid thinks she’s legit,” Alice noted.

“The kid’s as psycho as she is,” Lilia scoffed. “Like calls to like and all that,”

“You’re just salty cause she calls you kooky,” Alice grinned.

“I’m not!”

Meanwhile, you walked with Rio, playing with her fingers gently as you talked her ears off.

The conversation eventually took a serious turn as you both paused and waited for the others.

“Mami,” you said, kicking a stone as you walked with her. “Mami, why did you leave me and go? Did I do something? Did mama? Did Nicky?”

Rio sighed. She knew this question was inevitable. She couldn’t avoid it, she knew that.

She stopped and knelt to your height, holding your arms in a gentle grip, making the others pause in their tracks.

Her voice was so soft, so gentle. “Mira, mi amor,” she said softly. “Sometimes…things happen which can’t be fixed unless one person removes themselves from the equation. It was not yours or Nicky’s fault, alright?”

She sensed your apprehension. An apprehension that broke her heart because she didn’t want to leave. She had to. She had no choice.

“Is it a grown up thing?” You whispered, voice barely audible.

“It is, nena,” she nodded. “But you’re still a little girl, you’re small. You won’t understand even if I explained it simply. I want you, my smart, sweet girl, to know that mami going away was not your fault,”

She thought before adding, “I am sorry for leaving, though. Mi vida, lo siento,”

It made you feel better, indeed. “It’s okay, Mami,” you smiled. “I’m happy you’re with me now,”

She grinned and scooped you up, putting you in her shoulders deftly, making you squeal with happiness. There she was, fun Mami. Your Mami.

“Come on now, let’s make some trouble,” she grinned up at you, winking. “Mami’s not going anywhere anytime soon,”

“What if I get hurt?” You asked quietly.

“Then mami’s always here to protect you,” she grinned, squeezing your hand gently.

You nodded, trusting her words.

The Road was long and it was hard.

But maybe things wouldn’t be too bad.

Mami and Mama protected you. Always.

hi hi my bao buns! i hope you enjoyed it! it was quite long, i must say, haha. do request more and i’m working on the rest currently!

[satxnsupreme666]

Love in the darkest hour: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader x Rio Vidal

Masterlist

Requested by: @perfectartisanwerewolf

Summary: During Agatha´s trial, you are the one that gets possessed, Rio and Agatha get protective of you but you end up getting hurt, your girlfriends feel guilty and all of the wicthes get worried about you.

Warnings: Reader gets hurt, mention of wounds, broken bones, angst and fluff,  I think that´s it (Oh, and English is not my first language but I still try hard to check my own grammar)

Word count:  6k+

Author’s notes: In this story Alice does not die.

Hello, this was a requested story, and I wanted to write it before posting the final old stories I wrote three years ago, sorry that I took three days to write this and that is not longer, but I will be honest, I divide my time between doing nothing at all or doing everything at the same time (that means writing, reading, listening to some music, playing something, watching a movie etc.)

I hope this is what you were waiting for @perfectartisanwerewolf ♥️

I hope you like it! ♥️

If you enjoy, could you comment, like or reblog? it would help a lot really ♥️

Taglist: @midnight-lestrange  @eliscannotdance

“We’re ok” Agatha announced after all of you had had to fly away from the Salem seven, it had been close, really close, all of you really needed to be more careful, you still were worried about those entities trying to get Agatha, she had told you that you didn’t need to worry about, but still, you didn’t want that something happened to Agatha.

“No, we’re not, the entire Halloween aisle’s outside waiting for us” Maybe Jenn was right, could they be really outside?

“Well it doesn’t look like they can get in, does it? All we have to do is complete the trial and continue on before they can get us” Her sentence seemed to calm everyone a little bit, Jenn seemed to relax a little.

“My spell book, I can’t find it!” The teen started to look inside his little bag.

“Where’d you have it last time?” Lilia tried to reason with him so he could think clearly.

“Flying on a broom” The teen sounded sad, so you went towards him and put your hand on his shoulder, you felt bad for him, you wanted to reassure him somehow.

“Forget about it, you can take the training wheels off” The older witch said to him still standing in front of the door.

The teen looked at you and Lilia with a sad expression.

“Hey it’s alright, Agatha’s right, you don’t need it, all of those spells that were on your notebook are also there inside your head, you know all of them, so don’t worry alright?” He seemed to understand because he quickly smiled at you and nodded.

Agatha saw the interaction with a smile on her face, she loved how you were be able to make everyone feel better; you knew how to cheer someone up, you could not only heal physical wounds, but also wounds that were not visible and that only hurt people emotionally.

You sensed someone watching you and turned to look at the direction where you sensed the gaze on you, Agatha was looking at you from her place, she was staring at you with so much love, she winked at you and smiled back at her.

“Look at you!” The teen suddenly said to you, you looked back at him and then at your clothes, noticing the style of the clothes that you were wearing, it was kind of like the ones in the slasher movies you liked to watch.

Looking back at the teen in front of you, you noticed his shirt and shorts as well, glancing back at the other witches you realized they were wearing the same clothing style, same thing that had happened during the last trials, you still wondered when would be your trial and what theme would it be, would it have a creepy vibe? With maybe a haunted house? Or maybe an abandoned house in the middle of a forest? A hill? You were excited to find out.

“You look like one of the teens from those eighties and nineties slasher movies” You had to tell him, if not you knew the idea would never leave your mind.

He took a glance at his clothes and then at the surroundings, he could not deny that you were right, all of you looked like one the main characters of a slasher movie set in the 80’s or 90’s, he remembered something so suddenly that he had to take you by your shoulders, you giggled before he even had the chance to say what had crossed his mind.

“Oh my god, y/n I have the perfect playlist for this!” You grinned and saw how he moved his hands to his sides, as if he was trying to find something, he pursed his lips and looked back at you.

“Right, I forgot, I don’t have my phone either” He sounded a little bit annoyed but smiled at the end anyway.

“You don’t even have pockets remember” you were right, he should have remembered that first.

Rio had heard your comment about the slasher movies and turned herself to look at him, she smirked and walked closer to the two of you.

When she saw you from behind, she noticed that you were wearing clothes that were similar to hers and her eyes looked you up and down, when she got closer to you, she passed her arms around your waist and pulled you closer to her, you instinctively rested your head against her chest.

The teen noticed the smirk on Rio’s face which only made him squirm, Rio scared him, her deadly stare made him grimace.

“Hey, she is right, you do look like a character in a slasher movie from the 80’s, you would be the first character to die at the start of the movie” She said to him while staring without blinking and on top of that, the smirk had never disappeared from her face.

You couldn’t help but giggle at her comment, slightly you patted her chest, the teen swallowed hard and blinked several times trying to laugh awkwardly.

“That is not something nice to say Vidal, don’t mess with him, you scare him” You said to her with a pout on your face.

“She does not scare me” The teen replied back, but Rio turned her head hastily at him and bit into the air, as if she was warning him that she could bite him, the teen jumped slightly.

“Maybe just a little” The dark-haired boy commented being wary of Rio.

“Don’t mind her” Was what you said to him while looking at him with a smile on your face.

“I think you would be one of the final boys that make it to the end of the movie” The boy in front of you seemed to think about it and nodded, he seemed convinced that he would actually be a final girl, and you didn’t doubt it, he smiled fondly at you, and Rio started to caress your back.

“Who would you think I’ would be in a slasher movie set on the 80’s sweetheart?” Rio asked you rising her right eyebrow.

You brought your hand to your chin and acted as if you were in deep thought, but of course, you already had your answer.

“You would be the killer, the killer everyone suspects but cannot actually prove it” You said out lout and the teen gasped.

“She is right, you would be the killer” You had not noticed that the other witches had walked towards you, they were already near you and were looking at you with small smiles on their faces.

Even if they did not trust Agatha at all, and were a little bit scared of Rio because of her antics, they find you really adorable.

In their minds they still could not comprehend how someone as sweet as you, who only used magic to heal people, was with the other two witches.

They still did not understand what a healing witch whose magic was as pure as the meaning of white lilies was doing with Agatha Harkness, former user of the darkhold and with Rio, the witch who did not care about anything and seemed to be so scary, the same woman who agreed on being a “psycho” with a big smile on her face.

Even if they did not comprehend it at all, they could see the way the two witches acted around you, and the way they treated you, they were soft with you, you were the only one that could see and had the privilege to see that side of them, you felt really lucky.

Rio turned her head back at the teen and tilted her head slightly.

“If I was the killer, you would be my first victim, you would not even make it to the second act” Your girlfriend said as if she was just saying facts.

“That is not right Rio, I am pretty sure he would be one of the few that actually makes it to the end” Rio cackled and you tilted your head to give her a disapproving look.

“Ah, fine, he would make it to the end” This deep down made the teen jump internally, it made him feel excited that she had admitted that.

Rio gave you a playful pat on your shoulder.

“Let me look for Agatha, we don’t want her to cause more trouble do we?” She winked at you and left your side.

Alice then came to stand next to the teen, with a curious look on her face.

“Who would I be in a slasher movie?” She inquired looking excited to know your answer.

Examining her carefully you came to the only conclusion that seemed accurate for Alice.

“I think you would be the main character, the protagonist who is tortured and stalked by the killer, because she was the only one who escaped, you would be one of the original final girls, the final girl who fights back, like Laurie Strode on Halloween” Her eyebrows were risen and nodded her head in understanding.

“Yeah, she is totally right, you would be a total badass” The teen agreed with you. Alice beamed with happiness and pressed her hands together.

“You heard that?” Alice asked glancing at Jenn and Lilia.

“I am not really a fan of horror movies, so I really don’t know what you are talking about” Explained Jenn and Lilia nodded her head in a way of showing she felt the same.

Smiling at them you started to explain everything “It’s fine, basically, the horror or slasher movies tend to have a series of “rules” that characterize them, one thing for the slasher movies is for example, that there is a killer-“

“Sometimes there are two killers” The teen quickly said.

“Or sometime yes there are two killers, who usually start their murder spree killing different characters, and the final girl is the character who makes it to the end of the movie and defeats the villain” You finished your explanation.

“Who do you think Agatha would be?” The teen inquired.

“I would say that because of her personality traits she would be the killer that no one suspects of, I mean she is smart, charming” The four of them nodded in agreement.

“And who would you be?” The boy asked you again.

“I would be the character who dies at the start” You simply said, and they all started to discuss that in fact that would not be true.

“I think you would be the character that everyone is attached to, like the character who is friends with everyone and who also everyone tries to protect, you know? also I can see how you would be close to the final girl and you would get extra protection” The teen said and put a finger on his chin, looking at you, analyzing you, you only smiled at him and shook your head.

“Is this how people really looked at the time? I mean, the clothing style, the vibe, all of it?” You wondered out loud and jumped when you felt someone hugging you from behind, you felt the arms of Rio pulling you closer to her.

“Yes, people actually dressed up like this” Agatha said behind you, and all of you turned to look at her, she had kind of a disheveled look, he hair up in a ponytail and the oversized purple shirt fitted her amazingly.

“Whose trial is this?” Asked the teen while looking up at the ceiling.

Rio looked at the window in front of you and you did the same thing, the blood moon could be perfectly seen since your position.

“Agatha’s” answered the witch holding you from behind, you were a little bit worried, so you turned your head to look at Agatha, she saw your worried expression and gave you a reassuring smile, it was a tad scary for her, but with you and Rio there by her side, she knew the trial would be easily passed, or at least, that’s what she hoped.

Hearing Lilia’s explanation about the blood money and the believe of a misconception she mentioned, everyone turned around to look at their beeping watches in their wrists.

“The road wants us to Ouija” The teen showed all of you the board, and everyone started to gather closer, then he proceeded to read the rules.

“Number two, do not speak over each other” And all the witches began to speak over each other, clearly not realizing what they were doing.

Rio and you heard clearly when Agatha demanded to be shown the rules to see if it actually said that and you couldn’t help but share an amused look with her,

Rio shook her head smiling and sticking her tongue out a little, you tried to hide your laugh but you couldn’t, Agatha realized who was laughing and she looked at you, you were next to her left and Rio was next to you.

“What?” Agatha asked with feigned innocence, and you just shrugged your shoulders.

“What is so funny doll?” Agatha asked again and came closer to you to caress your hair, you unconsciously leant into her touch, and let her guide you to rest your head on her chest.

“I love the way you look in those clothes” She commented dangerously close to your ear witch a husky voice.

“Not the time for that” You replied amused, you had to focus on passing the trial.

“Shall we start?” Agatha seemed to tense and you saw the way she started to swallow, it was obvious that she was nervous, the teen sat on the floor and the other witches started to do the same forming a circle.

“Hey, are you alright?” You asked her while she squeezed your hands, you felt the way she pulled you closer to her, and you happily leant into her touch.

“I will be alright, don’t worry” She said to you in a whisper.

“Rio and I are here for you, you know?” You replied back at her and she nodded with a smile in her face.

“I know, thank you, I love you so much” Agatha said near your ear and she pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get started” She said, you did not notice the way Agatha nodded at Rio, Rio understood and Agatha took your hand one more time to hand you to Rio, Agatha gave you one last squeeze and Rio took your hand in hers, the brown-eyed woman smiled reassuringly at Agatha and put her arm around your waist, she pushed you slightly and placed you next to her right, while Agatha sat next to you as well, leaving you in the middle of the two of them.

Everyone on the room put their hands on the board and waited for Agatha to start, when her hands got separated from the board you really got scared and quickly turned your head to look at Rio, she saw your worried expression and quickly mouthed a “Don´t worry” and smiled slightly at you.

“She´s scared” Commented Rio while you sighed in relief, for a moment you had thought your girlfriend had been possessed, Rio then patted the sit ordering Agatha to come and sit again.

“Do not do that, it was funny, but you got her scared” Rio said to Agatha and nodding towards you, while the blue-eyed woman sat back next to you and she gave you a shy smile.

“Sorry love, I thought it was funny” The older witch commented with an apologetical look.

Sighing you just shook your head and slightly bumped your shoulders against her.

“It alright, I just do not want anything to happen to you” Rio then looked back at her and nodded, she felt the same even if she found her little joke funny.

“Alright” The blue-eyed woman proceeded to place her hands on the board and everyone did the same, you were not going to lie, feeling the board moving so hard and faster made your heart beat in fear, you never had played it and it actually made you feel scared, but you knew you had to do it in order to pass the trial.

“Punish Agatha” Was what the board said and you quickly felt yourself getting tense, but before someone could actually understand what was happening you heard Agatha yelling at everyone to stop it and you were not sure what or how it happened but Agatha got her hands off the board and you panicked.

The scream that was all over the place, was so loud and it pierced you ears.

You saw her getting to the floor and she covered her ears just as everyone else did, but you were still worried of what could happen to your girlfriend since it was her trial, so you uncovered you ears not caring if the loud sound made your ears hurt and went to kneel next to Agatha to check if she was fine and did not have any type of physical wounds.

Agatha noticed your face contorted in pain, but her heart melted when she realized you were checking her to make sure she was not hurt, out of instinct she uncover her ears and made sure your ears were covered using her own hands, even in the middle of the chaos she still managed to show you how much she cared for you.

You were so lost in her eyes that you did not even notice when things calmed down, the scream could not be heard anymore and the things flying around the room were already scattered all over the floor.

“Is it over?” Your eyes stared to examine the room and the witches around you, getting closer and closer, what happened?

“Sorry y/n, but it seems like in order to pass this trial we have to punish Agatha” Jenn was looking right at Agatha, her gaze not darting somewhere else.

“There has to be another way” The teen said out loud and you agreed with him.

“Wait no! You cannot just decide that you are going to hurt her” You said to the three witches in front of you, your pleading eyes started to get glossy, they could not actually think that this was their way out right? Even if the ghost or whatever was wanted that, there had to be another way.

The teen looked horrified about what could happen, it was clearly they were not thinking clearly and with Rio walking faster towards the two of you, he panicked as well.

“I am sorry but you have to move” Jenn said with what you thought maybe, just maybe was guilty.

Alice was unsure, they were not actually going to do something to Agatha right? She looked at Lilia who had the same unsure look on her face.

Your pleading eyes with tears about to be shed made them feel unsure on what to do, they knew that you loved her and you would not be able to do anything to her, but what if that was what the ghost wanted them to do?

Before they got the time to get closer to you Rio appeared in front of the two of you and got her knife out of wherever she hid it, you were always amazed because whenever you saw her getting something out of her pockets or her clothes, you never really understood where she hid all of the things she carried with her.

“No one is touching Agatha, nor y/n” She said with a firm tone.

Agatha caressed your back and nodded at you, she gave you a reassuring smile and squeezed your hand.

“It´s alright, don´t worry, nothing is going to happen to me, ok” She pressed her forehead against you and you nodded, Agatha then stood up and came up behind Rio.

“Listen, we can talk about it and see what other options we have, let´s not get wild” She said trying to be reasonable, but then a sound was heard from your spot, and everyone turned to where the sound had come from.

“Where is she?” The teen asked with his eyes wide open, the witches started to turn themselves around looking for you.

“Sweetheart? Where are you?” Agatha asked out loud, and everyone started to move to different directions trying to see if they could catch a glimpse of where were you.

“We have to find her! She was right there and the next second she was not, how is that even possible?”  Your girlfriend Agatha started to panic, it was something weird when it came to her, being panicked was not a state she was used to, but when it come to you or Rio, she could not help but worry more than anything.

“Hey, look at me, we are going to find her, she could not have gotten too far” Rio reassured her and Agatha nodded, she was right, you could not have gotten too far.

They all gasped in unison when the lights went out.

“Hey, we were not going to actually hurt your girlfriend Agatha, just come out wherever you are” The potions which announced while she examined the room.

The teen started to look for something that they could use to get some light, and when he found a lamp, he looked pleased, now it would be easier to look for you.

“Hey, does anyone hear that” Lilia inquired and the teen felt something that had touched his shoulder, he visibly tensed and pointed the lamp towards the ceiling.

The scream that came after seeing you was inevitable, the other witches looked up as well and started to scream as well.

“Oh my god, what happened to her?” Jenn screamed and walked back until she hit one of the walls.

“Agatha get her out of the ceiling!” Alice yelled at her.

“I would if I had my powers!” Agatha yelled back; her face was full of worry.

“She is going to get hurt” Lillia declared while covering her mouth with her hand.

What they were not waiting, was that you jumped from the ceiling, landing with a hard thud against the floor.

“Is she hurt? Someone please check her!” Alice yelled again

“She is not y/n” The teen screamed when suddenly your body got up from the fall and started to contort your body, he squirmed and crawled back to try to protect himself from what he was seeing in front him.

“She is possessed for real” The teen was horrified, the look you had on your face was clearly not something he was expecting, he just hoped that neither of you would get hurt.

“Someone needs to grab her!” Someone in the back yelled, but due to everyone screaming the teen did not even recognize whose voice it was.

“No! wait, she could get hurt! No one is touching her!” Rio glanced menacingly.

“Then how can we help her?!” Agatha asked desperately, she came to place herself next to Rio, the two of them wanted to actually try and do something, maybe catch you and bring you to the center, but the way your body was contorting made them afraid that they could hurt you more.

“Oh my god guys, why are her bones sounding like that?” The teen screamed out of fear at the sound of your cracking bones, you were getting too close to him when suddenly your body for some seconds went limp and crashed against the floor, they were going to go and help you but after only some seconds your body stood up again crashing against the wall, Lilia was quick to get the power back and in a blink of an eye, you disappear again.

“Where is she? Where is she?” Rio looked several times around the room trying to see if you were again on the ceiling.

Before the withes could have more time to look for you, they saw something that looked like white fog forming in front of the stairs.

“That is a ghost, I hate ghosts” Rio said completely angered, Agatha was next to her looking at it with her brows furrowed, where had you gone?

What Agatha saw next made her gasp; her mother had materialized in front of them.

“Mother?” Agatha asked not believing what her eyes were watching.

A sound caught their attention and they looked up to see what was going upstairs, there you were, Agatha sighed in relief but after the worry could be gone, it took over her again, you were trying to stand up, grabbing your left arm with your right hand, you were crying, your sobs were loud enough for them to hear.

“What did you do to her?” Rio asked angrily taking a step forward, and Agatha did the same.

“You have to keep walking the witches´ road without her” The ghost of Evanora Harkness said to them.

Everyone gasped in shock.

“No way, we are not leaving her with you, she comes with us” Agatha said with a firm tone, never hesitating.

“Leave this girl with me, then you will be free to go” The ghost replied.

Lilia, Alice, Jenn and the teen looked at each other, they were not going to leave you there with her, and if they also needed to fight a ghost even if they did not how, they would do it.

“Taking one of the people I love the most?” Agatha laughed bitterly at the thought.

“There is no way we are leaving her with you!” Rio replied back at the ghost with a threatening tone in her voice.

“We are not letting her stay with her, you hear me? She is going to leave with us Agatha” Rio assured the blue-eyed woman.

“It is your time to pay for what you have done, you were born evil, you should not have a chance at love, I repeat, leave her with me, and you can go” Agatha clenched her jaw, Rio who was next to her was fuming, even if they wanted to do something, what could they do against a ghost?

You were crying, your whole body in pain, you were sure you were going to have bruises, you could not even lift your arm and you wondered if maybe it had been broken.

You heard everything Evanora said to her, that she was evil, but that was not true, Agatha was not evil, she was a misunderstood witch who did not have anyone to back her up and show her to control her powers, and even if you were in pain you would let your girlfriend know that her mother was not right.

“Do not listen to her Agatha, we know you are not evil, you are worthy of love” You managed to say between sobs, Agatha did not have time to answer to you, because her mother spoke again.

“I will not repeat myself” The ghost announced.

Agatha could not help the tears falling from her face, it was all her fault you were in pain, her own fault that you had been possessed by her mother, she was being punished for al the things she had done in the past, seeing you in so much pain was breaking he heart, Rio was so mad, it infuriated her seeing you and Agatha both in pain.

Before they could do something else, the ghost disappeared and they watch the way your body started to contort again, you came crawling down the stairs, the witches watched in horror.

“Leave her alone” The witch with the red strands on her hair pushed the teen, Agatha and Rio to the side, all of them saw Alice throwing her powers at you.

“Don´t hurt her!” Agatha shouted ready to go and push Alice away from you, but the teen and Rio stopped her, and watched they way your body return to your normal form, the paleness leaving your skin, and the white fog dissipated.

After some minutes Alice stopped, and you felt to the floor with a loud thud, you quickly started to groan in pain, trying to get up from the floor.

Agatha and Rio ran towards you to help you stand up.

“It hurts so much” You said to them still crying, Agatha could not take in how much pain you were, she did not want to hurt you more, but they needed to check your body.

“I know sweetheart, we know it hurt but we have to touch you to check your body alright?” Rio whispered to you in a reassuring way, it pained her too much too see you suffering.

They tried to help you stand up, but the pain in your body was too much, Agatha could see the bruises forming on your legs and on your arms, and seeing the way your arm had taken a really weird position, she knew it was broken.

“Baby, can you tell us where it hurts?” You heard Rio asking you, her voice sounded a little bit shaky.

“My arm, is what hurts the most” Yous said between sobs, you wanted the pain to stop, but you knew that even healing yourself was going to hurt a lot.

“I think… I think I can try to heal it but, but I am scared, it is going to hurt so much” Agatha turned her head to look at Rio, she closed her eyes, your sobs made her so hard to maintain a hard façade as always.

“Listen, we are here with you, we are not letting you go, you can take my hand and squeeze it as hard as you want, alright?” Agatha said before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Rio placed herself next to Agatha, the blue-eyed woman placed you on her lap, and Rio put her hands on your back, caressing you up and down.

The witches standing in front of you, could not also take the sight, the teen had to look away, he could not stand seeing you crying from pain, and the way your arm was positioned, made him feel uneasy.

Lilia was holding Alice´s hand, watching with glossy eyes, they could not believe that you were the one that had got hurt, Jenn wanted to do something to help you ease the pain, but nothing came to her mind.

 You clung to Agatha´s shirt, and focused hard on the pain you were feeling, Rio never stopped running her hands up and down on your back, trying to soothe you and waiting the pain would stop.

“Everything will be alright, you are going to be fine, we love you so much” Agatha said into your ear, you were trembling and she hated so much that she could not anything.

After several minutes of sobbing harder, you felt you arm getting back to its normal position, your magic had worked, the powers accommodating the bones, putting them in their normal place, Agatha was caressing your legs with her free hands and noticed the bruises disappearing.

With one final breath, you felt yourself relaxing, the pain going away completely, and when Agatha and Rio were sure you were not hurting anymore, a door opened, all of you looked at it.

“We passed the trial” The teen said out loud, they were relieved you had stopped crying, but felt immensely guilty for not have been able to do anything to help you somehow.

 “We have to go sweetheart” She squeezed your shoulders lovingly, and the two of your grilfriends helped you to stand up.

Agatha quickly pulled you closer to her, her left hand on your waist, Rio put her hand on your shoulders, afraid of letting you walk alone.

They started to walk towards the door to get ready to leave and go back to the road.

“Alice” Agatha called for her when she started to walk in front of you, she turned quickly to look at you and to the other two witches in front of her.

“Thank you, for saving her” Agatha said with a soft look on her face, it was sincere, Agatha sounded sincere for the first time since the have arrived at the road, and smiled at her.

“It is alright, you do not have to thank me, I really wish I had done more” Alice gave the three of you an apologetically smile.

“You saved me” You replied at her.

“It was more than enough, Alice” Agatha let her know, Rio gave her a nod and the shorter witch smiled, it was a big smile, she turned herself around and started to walk back towards the door.

The three of you were the last standing in the room right in front of the door that would take you back to the road.

Agatha made you stop and you looked at her, with a frown on your face.

“Listen, I, I am sorry, it was my fault, because of me, because of what I have done in the past, you got hurt, and, none of us could do something to actually help you, I feel so-“ You abruptly interrupted her.

“Don´t blame yourself please, it was not your fault, please stop blaming yourself” You wiped her tears out of her face before talking again.

“I would never blame you for anything, I am fine, we are fine, we passed the trial, I am happy nothing happened to you” Before you could continue speaking, you felt her arm wrapping you in a hug, she passed her arms around your waist and you heard her cry, she loved you with her entire heart, and she could not stop blaming herself, what if something worse had happened to you?

Rio went to place herself next to Agatha and started to caress her back before looking at you.

“Hey, it´s alright, I would never, really never, let anyone hurt any of you, I would break the rules for you, so you can rest assure Agatha, that I won´t let anything else happen to her, alright?” Rio knew what to say, because you felt Agatha getting relaxed and she sighed.

“We are going to keep an eye on you, we are going to make sure noting else happens to you, we swear” Agatha commented while looking into your eyes, and Rio nodded quickly.

Smiling at them, the three of you started to walk again, ready to face whatever would be next, Agatha and Rio let you in first, and it made you laugh, you were not sure what was going to happen, or if something really worst was waiting for you outside, but what you were sure, was that with the two of your girlfriends taking care of you, you would be fine, and that was alright, you knew that if anything happened, Rio and Agatha would be there for you, ready to fight against anything that would even just threaten you, so you smiled pulled yourself closer to them when you stepped outside of that place, Agatha came next to you and again she pressed her hand on your waist, and Rio put her hand on your shoulder, they started to guide you to the group that was waiting for you in the middle of the road, and you smiled, you were going to be alright, no matter what.

When you got closer to the group, they heard the leaves been stepped on by someone and they quickly turned their head to look at you, they all had smiles on their faces.

You saw the way the teen turned his body completely towards you and he opened his arms, the closer you got the more you noticed his puffy eyes, when you arrived in front of him, you quickly opened your arms as well and let him engulf you in a hug.

“Thank god you are fine” He said while the two of you slightly swung due to the teen moving to the sides, you giggled and separated yourself to look at him.

“I am fine because Alice saved me” You replied to him and realized all of the witches had come closer and were standing really close to you and the teen hugging you.

You looked to your left to see Alice wiping quickly one tear that was running down her face, and tried to act as if she did not want to cry, she quickly cleared her throat and saw how Lilia and Jenn were smiling at her, Lilia put her hand on Alice´s shoulder and caressed it lovingly.

You chuckled and walked closer to Alice until you were standing next to her, she looked up from the floor to look at you and she shrugged her shoulders.

“No big deal, it was what anyone else would have done, so we´re cool-“ Before she could continue talking you hugged her, your arms around her shoulders.

“Thank you so much Alice, you really are a protection witch, please never doubt that, you are amazing” Your words had touched her heart and she hugged you more, she nodded and when you looked back at her face you noticed she had left the tears ran freely down her face.

“Thank you y/n” Alice replied back at you.

“I am sorry I, I just let you there, in pain, I, I should have done something else, try to look for something to ease the pain but-“ You quickly took Jenn´s hands on yours, you knew she was not really keen on physical contact so you tried to respect that about her.

“It´s alright, you don´t have to be sorry, it was something that was out of your hands, I am grateful that you were able to save him and stop the bleeding, and that´s more than enough, thank you about that, we did not have the time to thank you for that” You said to her smiling, Jenn nodded and caressed the back of your hand.

“Can I get a hug? Everyone seems to love your hugs, I wonder what is so special about them” You nodded laughing and got yourself close to her to hug her, she always smelled amazingly, her perfume seemed to never actually leave her.

“Oh darling, I am so happy you are fine, I cannot imagine what Agatha and Rio would have ended up doing if something happened to you” Lilia pulled you closer to her after you separated yourself from Jenn, and you let her hug you while caressing your back, Lilia then took your hands in hers, and looked straight into your eyes.

“You are so important to everyone, do not ever let yourself think you do not matter alright?” She said to you with a firm tone, yet it was soft at the same time, you could only nod and your eyes filled with tears.

Agatha and Rio looked at the scene in front of them, and Agatha could only think that no one was going to let you get hurt, if for any reason Rio and her were not able to actually protect you, they knew they still had a coven that would do anything to try and protect you as well.

“It looks that you will have to start being kinder to them” Rio said to her with a smirk but she actually meant it.

“Shut up” Agatha said while pushing her slightly in a playful way.

“But you are right, we are a coven after all” Agatha commented while the two of them got close to you and placed each one of them to your sides, both of their hands on your waist.

“We still have to keep on walking, let´s go” Agatha caressed your back again, and while everyone nodded and continued to walk, you couldn’t help the smile on your face from getting bigger, maybe this would be the time for Agatha to start trusting in others, apart from only trusting in you and Rio, but you would still have a lot of time In which you would be able to help Agatha with that, right now, you still had a road to face, and you had never felt so safe and ready to face whatever that would appear.

After all, you had your girlfriends to take care of you, and a whole coven that now, looked after each other.

[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES (17/20)

Hey!!! What's up??

Let's calm down a little? Haha I know how excited you are, but today chapter is to lighten my beloved ones who still had doubts about R being more than a source. She really is!

I really loved this chapter. So sad, but so beautiful...

And don't blame me, blame my pms! (mommy is needy 😢)

Warnings: angst chapter! Proceed with caution.

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio x Fem Reader

Summary: Agatha and Rio seek Lilia to give her answers.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

Amélie

At the beginning, you were just a project.

A source of energy, young and vibrant, ready to be drained to the last drop. Until your skin paled, until your breath turned into a faint whisper, and your eyes closed forever.

They prepared you carefully for this.

The plan was simple: seduce you, shape you, enchant you, make you more and more vulnerable. Make you fall in love with the illusion, lose yourself in their touch, surrender without resistance. And then, at the right moment, they would take everything.

Agatha and Rio had handpicked you, they had felt you. Wanda and Lilia agreed without hesitation. They knew what to do. They knew your last breath of life would be the sweetest.

The purest.

Rio would be the last to drink from you.

The last to hold your soul in her arms and carry it with her forever. Because that was her destiny.

Death.

The last touch, the last kiss, the last goodbye. Rio had always been there, at the threshold between the end and the eternal.

But now…

That simply can’t happen anymore.

They can’t let you go.

Now, you are not a sacrifice.

Now, you are theirs.

Only theirs.

Rio’s studio used to be a sanctuary of chaos and solitude, where she externalized the rebellious waves of emotions that devoured her.

Vidal’s fate had always been complicated.

She hadn’t asked for it.

Carrying the souls of others on her shoulders, feeling their stories, their pain, their last words embedding into her… it was too much. But death never has a choice. Only duties.

And even if Rio tried to escape, pretend she was nothing but flesh and bone, just a woman with paint-stained fingers and eternal dark circles under her eyes, she knew the truth.

Every stroke, every brush, every color carried something beyond reality. Her paintings wept. Whispered. Shattered in sighs and sins that weren’t hers.

It was a burden. A destiny.

Until you.

Most nights, she arrived home at dawn, hands and clothes dirty with paint, eyes tired, chest heavy. Agatha would already be asleep—or pretending to be. Always one step ahead, always distant enough to never be attached to anything.

It didn’t matter. Neither of them needed more.

Until you.

Until Rio discovered what it was like to come home and hear hurried footsteps on the wooden floor, feel arms wrapping around her waist before she could even drop her bag. The warmth of your body against hers, the soft sound of your voice saying, "You were late today."

She didn’t know she needed that.

Didn’t know how good it was to have someone waiting for her.

Agatha, on the other hand, never saw herself as someone who belonged to another.

She had always belonged only to herself.

To her intelligence. To her ambition.

That was how she survived for centuries. That was how she built her empire, stone by stone, blood by blood.

Evanora made sure of that.

Her mother forged her like iron in fire, breaking any weakness before it could even form.

Love? Love was a distraction. Love was a chain, an anchor dragging fools deep enough to surrender to it.

And Agatha would never be a fool.

She watched her sisters burn, saw mercy being punished, saw how those who loved too much always ended up in ashes.

So she made herself strong. Made herself unbreakable. And for a long time, she believed that’s exactly what she was.

Until Rio.

Because Rio didn’t court her with promises or ambition. Didn’t try to conquer her with power plays or seduction.

Rio was free.

And Agatha hated that.

Hated the way the woman laughed without guilt, how she spoke nonsense without fear of looking ridiculous. How she looked at her without fear, without the desire to control or be controlled.

Hated the way, beside her, Evanora’s words didn’t feel so heavy.

At first, Agatha wanted her just to spite her mother. To provoke. But then, without realizing it, she found herself lost in those brown eyes and silly smiles. In the warmth of Rio’s arms, in the way she expected nothing more than what Agatha already was.

She fought it. For two decades, she fought. Because she wasn’t capable of love.

Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

And then came the truth.

Because the woman who enchanted her with easy laughter and casual touches…

Was death itself.

The shock was paralyzing.

Evanora would have laughed. Oh, how she would have laughed!

The brilliant, ambitious daughter, heir to her legacy, seduced not by power, but by the one force in the universe that even magic cannot contain.

Agatha saw her break.

Saw the sweet and calm Rio obliterate everything around her in an instant.

Not out of rage.

But out of pain.

The truth burned, and as much as Agatha wanted to deny it… she knew.

Agatha loved Rio.

Loved the chaos that came with her, and over time, grew to love what she represented.

So when you entered her life, Agatha thought it would be easy and sweet, like strawberry cake.

She knew what to do.

Knew how to manipulate, how to shape, how to take whatever she wanted from you without you noticing. That’s what she did. That’s what she had always done.

And then you relaxed into her arms and called her mommy.

And for the first time in centuries, Agatha hesitated.

You weren’t supposed to unsettle her, but you did.

You weren’t supposed to make her heart pound in her chest, but you did.

You weren’t supposed to make her want more than just possession, but you did.

She felt ridiculous for liking it, but she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t deny the way her voice softened when you said it, the way you fit so naturally in her lap, the way your eyes shone when she praised you.

She tried to deny it. Ignore it.

But every touch of yours was different. Every time you looked at her, without fear, without reverence, something inside her trembled.

Control slipped through her fingers like fine sand.

The first time you called her that, it was a slip.

The second, a test.

Now, it’s inevitable and completely natural.

Now, she doesn’t want to hear you call anyone else that.

Before you… they were empty.

Now, they are overflowing.

And that changed everything.

[...]

The bedroom lighting was dim, and they prowled around you like wolves. Anger exploding in their hearts. Agatha knew that your shabby little friend was a young witch.

Lilia had already warned her.

That’s why, when you asked for permission to go out with Alice after class, it felt like a punch to the stomach.

She could have said no.

You would have obeyed without question.

Because you were good. The good girl of your mommies.

But Agatha didn’t want to.

Something inside her weighed on her, something unsettling and unknown. You were young. You had the right to have a life beyond them. Beyond this.

So, she let you go.

And she never regretted a decision more in her entire existence.

In mere minutes, Agatha explained the situation to Rio, the unease burning in her mind like an omen. Something was wrong. Something had been building up for weeks.

Wanda, always watching, always questioning, always wanting to know why they were taking so long to “lend” you to her and Lilia.

Why the delay?

The answer was simple.

It wasn’t going to happen.

That’s why, that day, when Wanda appeared at the mansion, sniffing the air and saying how much you reeked of Agatha and Rio—it was enough.

Sharing you with Wanda was out of the question.

Rio went back to Los Angeles; she knew Agatha might be right. She had seen this happen once before. And it didn’t end well.

So they cornered you.

Cruel. Sensual.

"Go on, pet. What else did that little whore say about us?"

The touch was gentle, but the words were chosen to hurt.

You weren’t supposed to believe other people.

You weren’t even supposed to question them.

"She said… you only want to use me." Your voice trembled in a whisper. "That I’m just a source…"

The words cut through the air like a sharp blade.

For a moment, the world stopped.

No one moved.

No one even breathed.

Agatha blinked slowly, brows furrowed, head tilted.

Rio remained still, her expression unreadable, but a muscle in her jaw twitched.

The room seemed to fold around you, suffocating, heavy.

Alice was a young witch. Inexperienced. An insect compared to them.

And yet, Alice knew about the sources.

Alice.

Not Wanda.

Not Lilia.

Alice.

But Alice wasn’t supposed to know.

Because that truth existed only between the four of them.

Rio, who had never shared the burden of fate with anyone beyond them.

Agatha, who held her secrets with firm hands and a cruel smile.

Lilia, sarcastic like Agatha but level-headed.

Wanda, intense, ruthless, loyal… Or at least, that’s what they thought.

One of them had betrayed. And the puzzle that had remained intact for centuries shattered right then and there.

Rio was the first to move.

Her dark eyes glowed like a black hole about to consume everything. She stepped forward, the scent of a storm rising in the air.

"Which one was it?" Her voice was a sharp whisper. "Who opened their mouth?"

Agatha’s gaze slid to you, your exhausted figure on the bed, your body still marked by the traces of last night.

She massaged the places where the whip had passed, her hands light and warm, like those of an ancient witch.

She caressed each mark with reverent touch.

"My love," she murmured, spreading a little more ointment on the inside of your thighs. "We’ve seen Wanda do this once before."

Rio paced back and forth like a caged animal.

"But that was centuries ago!" She said, arms crossed over her chest. "And Lilia said she forgave her." Rio pondered, avoiding her wife’s gaze.

"Lilia is too sensible." Your mommy’s hands were on your back. Massaging, caressing, and she smiled when you let out a small sound at how relaxed you were. "She has never put herself or her own will above us."

Rolling her eyes, Rio huffed. "Love…"

She had always been against Agatha’s desire for immediacy. If she suspected someone in a situation, Agatha wouldn’t stop until she had proof. Even if the person was innocent.

Agatha sighed, pulling away from you. The warmth of her touch vanished in an instant, and she got up from the bed, crossing the room with the lethal calm only she possessed.

"I’ll talk to Wanda tomorrow," she announced, her voice as sharp as glass.

Rio let out a brief, incredulous laugh.

"Talk?" She tilted her head, her eyes burning with something close to hatred. "And you really think she’ll admit it?"

Agatha turned to face her. "If it was her, I’ll know."

Rio studied her for a moment. "And if it wasn’t?"

The witch smiled, slow and sharp. "Then someone will pay all the same."

Rio ran her tongue over her teeth, crossing her arms. Her throat was dry. "I’m not like Lilia, Agatha. I won’t forgive."

The subtext was there.

Cruel and clear.

The last time this happened, it almost destroyed them. Almost tore them apart.

Agatha stepped closer, aligning her body with Rio’s, the candlelight shadows dancing over them like silent witnesses.

"I know, love. And that’s why you’re perfect for me."

Their eyes met, and in that instant, an understanding was sealed between them.

They had played this game for centuries. Survived every blow, every ambush, every broken alliance.

But this time was different.

This time, you were at the center of the board.

[...]

The set was alive with the sound of cameras, directors, and extras in their proper places. But Agatha heard nothing. Saw nothing. Time had flattened into a single thought: Where the hell are you?

Minutes before the break ended, a subtle unease made her check her phone. A habit. You always answered. Always came to her. Always obeyed.

Message sent. No response.

Her fingers slid across the screen, calling your name from the contact list. The phone rang four times before going to voicemail.

Agatha waited. Took a deep breath. Called again.

Nothing.

Her jaw clenched, and a weight began to settle in her chest, dense as molten lead. Irritation burned her skin like a persistent fever, but there was something else beneath it—something deeper, darker, something she refused to name.

She felt the tension in her shoulders when an assistant rushed past her. Without thinking, her hand shot out, gripping the woman's arm firmly.

"Where is she?" Agatha’s voice was low, but there was a sharpness to it, something that made the assistant blink in alarm.

"Who?"

Agatha’s patience was a thread about to snap.

She inhaled through her nose, teeth grinding as her mind processed the absurdity of the question. "The intern." The title felt weak in her mouth. Inadequate. "I need to review the script. And she’s not here."

The assistant hesitated, discomfort plain on her face. "I... I haven’t seen her. But I can find Yelena to review—"

Agatha dismissed her with an impatient gesture, her hand moving to her temple as her jaw locked even tighter.

The break ended.

The cast returned.

The extras returned.

The director returned.

But you didn’t.

The unease crept into her bones, replacing anger with something heavier, more unbearable.

That was when her assistant approached.

An uncertain gaze, hesitation in her steps.

She extended her hand. In the center of her palm, cold and silent, was your phone.

"The security guard found this..."

Agatha tore her eyes from her own screen, where she had been trying to call you for the umpteenth time.

The world stopped.

Her gaze fixed on the device, and something inside her tensed like a trap ready to spring. Her fingers wrapped around the phone, gripping it as if she could squeeze answers out of it.

No.

It wasn’t possible.

A second. Two. Her heart stuttered in her chest, erratic.

Fear.

The recognition of the emotion made her nauseous.

She lifted her eyes suddenly, her voice sharp as an ice blade:

"Where is Wanda?"

The woman’s agent barely glanced up from his phone, his expression vaguely distracted. "She went out for lunch."

And in that instant, Agatha knew.

Tension shot down her spine, a distant thunder before the storm.

Her fingers tightened around the phone, knuckles turning white.

"Fuck."

The sound was nearly lost beneath the ringing in her ears.

Her eyes darkened.

"Cancel today's scenes." Her voice didn’t rise, but the weight in it was undeniable. "Everyone is dismissed."

She didn’t wait for a response.

She didn’t notice the confused stares around her as she turned on her heel and stormed out, her purple coat billowing behind her.

Her fingers flew to her phone.

Calling Rio.

Her car was parked just outside, but the keys felt heavy in her hands.

Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the door.

The phone rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Agatha gripped the steering wheel tightly, her breath quickening.

"Pick up, damn it."

The call was finally answered.

"Agatha."

Rio’s voice was steady, but Agatha recognized that hint of concern, as if she had been expecting this all along.

"Meet me at Lilia’s house."

There was a brief silence on the other end. No questions. No hesitation.

"I’m on my way."

Agatha hung up without further explanation.

Her heart pounded, her chest tight with a mix of fury and dread.

If Wanda had anything to do with this, Agatha was going to kill her.

Lilia was sitting at her desk, glasses sliding slightly down the bridge of her nose as she graded her students’ exams. The tip of the red pen struck a firm line through an incorrect answer, and she sighed.

That was when the front door slammed violently.

The sound echoed through the house, rattling the windows.

Lilia closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling a slow breath before saying, without even turning around:

"That was a bit much, don’t you think?"

Rio’s boots echoed against the wooden floor, each step like thunder ready to crash.

"Where. Is. She?"

Rio’s voice was a low growl, something primal and dangerous.

Lilia pushed her glasses up, finally looking at the woman standing in front of her. Rio was tense, shoulders rigid, dark eyes burning, fists clenched at her sides as if holding back violence by a thread.

But Lilia didn’t look surprised. Or scared.

She merely tilted her head slightly, her gaze analytical.

"You’re breaking into my house for this?"

Rio’s jaw clenched. She stepped forward, her shadow swallowing Lilia whole.

"I’m not in the mood for games, Lilia." Her voice was quieter now, more lethal. "She’s missing."

Lilia blinked slowly.

"And you think I’m involved?"

Rio narrowed her eyes, moving in like a predator scenting its prey.

"I think… you know something."

Their eyes locked in a silent duel.

The tension in the air was suffocating.

"Rio," Agatha warned, urging her to step back.

She entered the apartment, noticing the broken door, but even so, she grabbed it and fit it back into place, using her magic to repair the damage her wife had caused.

"I didn’t know you were a carpenter as well as a witch," Lilia mocked, slipping out of Rio’s grasp to sit on the couch, irritated.

"I apologize for that. But you understand what’s happening here, don’t you?"

"Understand?" Lilia scoffed, lighting a cigarette with the lighter on the coffee table.

Long centuries and she had never managed to kick the habit.

"Understand that you two got more attached than you should have?" She pointed the cigarette at both women. "I understand. It’s happened before, hasn’t it?" Lilia let out a hollow laugh, something almost melancholic behind it.

Agatha and Rio both took deep breaths, sinking into the plush cushions.

"But you should know I have nothing to do with this."

"Lilia…" Agatha began. "Where is Wanda?" Her tone was patient, too calm. She knew yelling at Lilia would only slow things down.

Lilia took another drag of her cigarette before answering. The orange glow briefly illuminated her face before she exhaled the smoke slowly, eyes locked on Agatha.

Silence stretched.

Time pulled tight like a thread about to snap.

Rio moved first. Her body leaned forward, hands landing heavy on the coffee table with a dull thud. "Answer, Lilia." Her voice was low, carrying an unspoken threat.

The other woman merely raised an eyebrow, looking bored.

"And what if I don’t know?"

"You know." Rio growled.

The laugh Lilia let out was short, devoid of humor. Her gaze drifted briefly, landing on an invisible point in the room. As if she were seeing something the others could not.

It was Agatha who spoke first, not raising her tone, yet making it impossible to ignore: "I don’t want to play with you tonight."

Lilia finally looked at her.

Her eyes gleamed under the dim light of the room. "But you always know how to play, Agatha."

Her name, coming from Lilia’s lips, sounded like a sharp blade sliding against skin.

The air grew heavier.

Rio felt her shoulders tense. It wasn’t an explicit threat. Not yet. But the game was being set before them, and the scent of danger was palpable.

"Her phone was found on set." Agatha continued, ignoring the provocation. "And Wanda disappeared at the exact same time."

"Coincidence." Lilia murmured, tapping the ash from her cigarette into the ashtray’s edge.

"Coincidences don’t fucking exist." Rio shot back, her patience crumbling.

"You’re right." Agatha admitted, making Lilia and Rio stare at her in disbelief. "We got attached more than we should have. Honestly, I didn’t even know that could happen to women like us…" Agatha trailed off, her eyes lost in the ashtray on the coffee table, watching the gray smoke dance in the air.

"Yeah… it can." Lilia breathed, sadly.

Agatha lifted her gaze, her eyes now firm and unyielding. "I don’t want the same thing that happened to Amélie to happen to her."

Oh.

The name was a punch. A dry crack in the air. A weight settling in Lilia’s chest, constricting each heartbeat.

Her face changed completely. The closed expression, the mask of disdain she always wore, shattered in an instant.

"Don’t say her name." Lilia’s voice was cutting, but there was something fragile beneath it. Something even she couldn’t hide.

The silence that followed screamed. It filled the room, creeping between the three of them, suffocating like an invisible presence refusing to leave.

Amélie’s name wasn’t just a name. It was a specter. A painful memory that had never found rest.

Lilia ran her tongue over her teeth, impatient. She took another cigarette, lighting it with the tip of her fingers. The flame flickered before dying, but the name still echoed in the heavy silence.

Amélie.

Agatha noticed the tremor in her friend’s hands as she brought the cigarette to her lips. "You still feel it, don’t you?"

Her voice came low, almost soft.

Lilia exhaled the smoke slowly. "What?"

Rio crossed her arms, her expression hard. "The absence. The guilt."

Lilia laughed. But it was an empty sound, dry, devoid of humor. "Guilt?" She repeated, testing the word on her tongue, as if it were something bitter. "Every single day."

She closed her eyes for a second, allowing herself to feel. And then, the memory came.

The golden hair—half blonde, half brown. Lilia never really knew for sure.

The soft texture.

The scent of eucalyptus shampoo, a common aroma, but on her, it was different. Unmistakable.

The white veil pinned to her head.

White.

Pure.

Amélie was light.

And Lilia?

"But no amount of guilt I feel. No stupid regret for not fighting for her, for us… will bring her back."

Agatha didn’t reply immediately. Her gaze landed on Lilia’s cigarette, on the way she held it, as if it were a shield. But it was useless. The past always found a way to reach them.

"Did you forgive her?" Agatha asked.

Lilia laughed again, but this time, there was pain in the sound. "Did I have another choice?" She tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling. "I was the one in the wrong. I betrayed you all. My family."

Agatha leaned forward. "Is that really what you think?"

For a moment, only silence answered. Then, finally, Lilia spoke, and her voice was a rough whisper:

"Fuck... of course not. I loved Amélie."

Her throat tightened, her lips trembling, but she kept going:

"I loved her."

Tears streamed from Lilia’s tired eyes. She had seen so many things, met so many people. But no one, no one, had ever compared to her Amélie.

"Of course you did." Rio spoke, her voice mirroring something she understood all too well. "You were never the same again, Lilia."

Lilia shook her head, letting out a shaky sigh. "She was so young. It was unbelievable that someone like her would waste her years inside that damned church. But fuck that." She shut her eyes, a weak chuckle escaping at the memory of the girl and how devoted she was. "I’d give anything to have her here with me."

Agatha blinked slowly, absorbing every word. It was like looking into a mirror.

If she let Wanda destroy everything… she’d end up like Lilia.

Or worse.

Because this time, she would watch Rio fall apart along with her.

Agatha took a deep breath. "Lilia…"

It was a plea. A silent request.

The older woman sighed again, her chest still heavy, but something in her seemed different. Maybe it was the weight shared between sisters. Maybe it was the unspoken understanding that their support for each other was non-negotiable.

Lilia stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray, watching the ember die.

"Wanda has too many dealings in WestView." She gave them an answer, but lifted her head to look at the women already at the door.

"Do you really think you can stop Wanda?"

Lilia studied the two women before her. The intensity in Agatha’s eyes. The ferocity in Rio’s.

The love and loyalty they shared, binding them in a way that neither time nor darkness could break.

For an instant, she saw something she thought had been lost long ago: hope.

Rio growled. "If she thinks she can touch her, she’ll have to go through me first."

Lilia smiled—a small, almost imperceptible smile, but genuine.

"Then good luck."

And with that, Agatha and Rio left, leaving behind the smoke of Lilia’s cigarette and the sweet memories of a name whispered in the air.

Amélie.

~*~

And who is Amélie? Well... I can tell you this story someday.

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[rippersz]

thank you for blessing us with your Lilia fics 🥹🫠

Here, have another. - Rip x

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙚

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

(Lilia Calderu x Fem!Reader) (Song Fic; Fluffy; Character Study; Angsty; Love Confession) (~3.4k words)

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

There was a time once in history when Lilia Calderu wanted to be a performer. 

She sang the songs and recited the rituals of her coven, she honed her voice for incantations and for spells, and when the time came for her to grow up, it was rumoured that her talent was so strong, so steady and intense, that even the goddesses could hear it. For a while, it made her popular. The girls loved to listen to soft lullabies before bed, the superior witches enjoyed her singing at their events, even her maestra, at times, asked for a little tune to help get her through the rest of the evening. Most nights, when everyone was already fast asleep, Lilia would lie awake in her bed and try to picture a life of free vocal pleasure. A life where she could be an adored witch and an even better performer, one with the light feet of a dancer and the voice of an angel. A woman so good she could travel the continent, go beyond Sicily, see the fruits of the world, and be loved by all for what she could do.

It was, for what was really such a short period of time, a lovely existence. Then, gradually, unexpectedly, and terribly, her life began to pause and resume out of order, transporting her to versions of herself she had yet to meet. And though she did see those unfamiliar places, the world beyond Sicily, she was never faced with the loving, excited crowd. Most times, it was pitchforks and threats, angry faces of strange men and women, children with teary eyes, and licks of fire cast toward her body. She had never seen such fear in her life, never felt hatred so strong it seemed like a physical presence, and after a short while, Lilia Calderu realised that instead of becoming a beloved singer and performer, she was destined to run and hide for most of her life. 

It came as no surprise that when the gaps got so powerful, so frequent and so bad that sometimes she didn’t remember an entire day, the coven lost their combined interest in her talent. It fizzled out and eventually became a secret kept to herself. A faded myth that some girls chattered about to newcomers. The only person who heard her sing from that point forward was her maestra. The old woman didn’t care for Lilia’s reputation, she only cared for her talent. Both within magic and outside of it. So sometimes after their lessons, unpredictably to keep Lilia on her toes, her maestra would request a song. On one afternoon it would be a ritual tune, on another it would be a chant, and some evenings she asked Lilia to sing something–anything–just so the two of them could enjoy a bit of peace. 

And so Lilia would sing. She would sing, sing her heart out, and she would watch the way her maestra closed her wise eyes and swayed back and forth to the sound of Lilia’s music. Those moments in her life were the ones most cherished. When she closed her eyes, they were just as vivid as the day she experienced them for the first time: the soft waves of the ocean kissing the shoreline and the great rocks of the coast, the setting sun nearly over the horizon, filling the atmosphere with great wisps of pink and purple-tinged stratus clouds, the air smelling of whatever the cooks had prepared for supper. Her maestra in her chair, tipping her head back, enjoying the lilt of Lilia’s voice until she faded into silence and the old woman opened her eyes, straightened her posture, and gave Lilia only two claps before rushing her off inside. She could picture their moments in the garden just as easily, the birds and the wildlife scurrying in the underbrush and the burrows and the trees, the smells of rich forest plants, vines, and flowers, the way the sun reflected off of the gazebo’s carved stone pillars, the familiar comfort of the bench whenever she sat down across from her. It was a unique paradise, a home she understood she would never have again. 

And a community she would never have again. 

Once the coven forgot about her voice, she mainly used it for herself. On slow walks around the grounds, she would hum, during her soaks in the bath, she would whistle, and whenever she had a moment alone in a secluded place, a place of utter tranquillity, of silence and precious independence, she would belt. She would belt and she would croon in every key she could and she would do it until her throat hurt or it got too late or she couldn’t think of anything else to perform. 

That’s why you never interrupted her singing in the shower. 

It was loud every time, louder than the water and the washing, and it would reverberate off of the tiles and the mirror and it would hit your ears through the thin walls, but you never dared ask her to stop. You couldn’t. 

No, not that you couldn’t because Lilia would most definitely stop if you wanted her to but that was just it - that was the last thing you wanted. 

Lilia’s voice was polished marble. It was richer than sweet chocolate, huskier than the tang of whiskey, more gentle than the fur of a kitten. It was steady, it succeeded in its rhythm, its measure, its keys and its choruses and whenever you heard the shower curtain slide open and the water turn on, you knew to prepare yourself for a performance. 

And always, without fail, it was a performance you got.

Sometimes it was a happy one, a joyous loud one where her voice went gravelly as she tried to emulate a rockstar. Sometimes it was an angry one, when she sang with a growl and a bite to her lyrics. Sometimes, most times, it was sad and melancholic, ringing and chirping like an operatic bird, and tinged with so much history and pain that you worried if she was as alright as she claimed to be. Perhaps, you thought, it was a form of therapy. That was her release. To spread the swirl of talent and desperation that built up in her body, eager to be revealed to the clouds, the cosmos, the world. It was her history, coiled up like springs, and every time she disappeared into that unique space of music, it was like they all burst up at once. History springing everywhere, bouncing from the tiles, painting the foggy air of the bathroom as Lilia stood beneath hot water and opened her mouth and released. 

You imagined her there, shaking with the force of her own voice, closing her eyes, curls wet and plastered to the back of her neck, her shoulders, and letting the power take hold - not in a witch’s way but in a mortal’s way. In a way that spoke to centuries of pain, of wonder, of exploration. You couldn’t remember the moment she told you she liked her water scalding hot, but you never had a doubt as ‘steamy’ seemed to be the bathroom’s atmosphere whenever she walked out from a shower. The two of you mutually agreed to disable the second smoke detector in the flat that, for some reason, was on the ceiling in the same hallway and would have no doubt gone off every time Lilia wanted to wash up. 

It was quite endearing to see her slip out followed by a gust of steam, sporting reddened skin and messy damp curls plastered to her head and neck. She looked like a wet puppy. A wet puppy that was very hard to look at, partly because she needed the privacy to get dressed but also because she often walked out in nothing but a towel. A single red bath towel, wrapped around the top of her bust that fell below her knees. The first time you’d walked into the hallway and saw that, you backpedalled into your room so fast you nearly fell and cracked your head open on the floor. It was embarrassing sporting a blush for the rest of the evening, but she didn’t seem to notice - or perhaps didn’t care. 

And why would she? You were two women. You could be normal about things like that. About bodies and nudity and the curves of the female figure and the curves of Lilia’s body specifically.

Yes, absolutely. Normal. You could be normal.

You could be normal about the shower singing. 

You could be normal when Lilia sang of love.

You could be normal when she sang of love in different languages like French and Latin and Sicilian and Greek and something else, something ancient, that you’d never heard before.

You could be normal when her voice dipped into a low husk as she cooed, emulating the style, the niche, of a beautifully dressed jazz singer in a dimly lit jazz bar.

You could be normal when she hummed something light and sweet beneath her breath, dressing her voice up as the garlands of Spring. 

You could be normal when she poured her entire heart into a note. 

You could be normal when she stole your mind away with a whistle.

You could be totally normal about things like that. 

You could be totally normal about it all.

Totally normal. 

Yeah.

Nothing but normalcy. 

───༺༻───

You had a favourite song. 

It was stupid. So stupid. You weren’t sure how you allowed it to happen, but it happened and because of it, you were screwed. Screwed. So stupid…

You had a favourite song. 

She sang it the same way every time, with soft prolonged vowels and crystal clear tones, like windchimes and violins. She sang with heart, with soul, her tongue was fluid in the first verse, her inflection lilting and gentle in the second, and her mouth shook with power as she belted the third. A mezzo-soprano through and through you came to learn after looking it up one day (just another example of your foolishness). 

You had a favourite song. 

It was cold honey in her mouth, made for her voice, crafted for most of her range. For the sweet and soft, the careful and gentle, to the rough and loud, strong and courageous. She could roar and whisper, cry and laugh, be righteous and upset all at once. It was so moving the first time you heard it, the spoon you were washing fell right out of your hands. 

Some say love, it is a river

That drowns the tender reed

A sharp breath. A trip of your body as your heart ran right to a stop. 

Some say love, it is a razor

That leaves your soul to bleed

You’d heard her sing about romance before, in all possible forms and ways, but you never expected those words from her lips. 

Some say love, it is a hunger

An endless aching need

They were familiar. You already knew them. You’d learned when you were young, when you still had the chance to sing with your mother, with your grandmother, and harmonise when you weren’t too shy. Granted, none of you could harmonise very well, but that wasn’t the point. All that mattered was how you knew it, sang it, together.

I say love, it is a flower

And you, its only seed

Your mouth moved with hers, only silence flowing from your throat, and you closed your eyes as your body melted against the sink. You followed her pause, her break, imagining the instruments there to fill the blank space, and took a deep breath when she continued.

It's the heart, afraid of breaking

That never learns to dance

It felt so nice to listen, to recognise the music and the shifts, and you pressed one hand to your heart so you could feel its beat as you heard. So you knew that it was still going, that you hadn’t died and Lilia wasn’t an angel singing you to Heaven. 

It's the dream, afraid of waking

That never takes the chance

You’d never told Lilia about your music taste. You feared that saying anything would result in an accidental slip and that your soul would spill out before you could do anything to keep it inside. You couldn’t have that, you couldn’t ruin everything you built, so you sat in your songs and you listened to the ones she sang, remembering the lyrics and copying them into Google as soon as you had a moment alone. You connected in silence. You appreciated her compassion by listening at night, before sleep, and betrayed your heart by wishing she was there next to you to sing it rather than in the other room, already drifting away into dreamland. You wanted to cross the bridge, to bring your adoration up to her and put it in her lap and tell her how in awe you were, but you never felt like it was your place. 

It's the one who won't be taken

Who cannot seem to give

Then she opened her mouth and sang out your childhood, the sum of your warm memories, and suddenly you were crying like a baby in your little apartment kitchen, looking around through a curtain of tears at everything you’d made together. 

And the soul, afraid of dying

That never learns to live

Was it going to kill you? Keeping it inside? Telling yourself that being normal about Lilia, resisting the temptations of love, was better than being rejected? That’s never how the stories ended, did they? If no one confessed, then it was a life lived wrong. If things were unsaid, it was an opportunity lost. If you didn’t tell Lilia, then it was another dead end. 

When the night has been too lonely

And the road has been too long

Oh her belt. Oh she way she sang. Harrowed, lost, speaking of times she was familiar with, loneliness that she knew like the back of her hand, a road she’d been travelling since the day she was born. 

And you think that love is only

For the lucky and the strong

Something she never had, something she could never keep for herself, no love for Lilia Calderu because she was not lucky and she was rarely strong. She lived her life in pieces, luck was not a friend, and she ran from every place where she found solace, and strength was never a lesson learned. 

Just remember in the winter

Far beneath the bitter snows

But that didn’t mean time stopped moving or stopped passing. It didn’t mean the world took love away on purpose. She knew this. She understood that life was meant to be lived a certain way, and that for her it was different. But who needed linear time when she had nonlinear time? Who needed order when she experienced the bits out of order, over and over, and found that still, in every space, in every world, she maintained her talent and her passion? 

Lies the seed that with the sun's love

In the spring becomes the rose

Who needed desolation and exhaustion and hopelessness when hope was so strong? So eager to persevere?

Why did Lilia need to believe that she could not be loved if you were there to love her? 

“Darling? What’s wrong?” 

You were dry-heaving, clutching at your chest like it would stop the breaking of your heart, the cracks and the fractures, and you were so loud that you didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Tears made your cheeks warm and your breaths, your sobs, turned you red. The world was numb, only a collection of brief sounds, but Lilia’s voice, as it always did, pulled you back. She was blurry behind tears, but you looked at her anyway, pitiful and sad, and didn’t even bother to hide when she ran forward in her towel and tugged you into her warm arms. 

“Did something happen?” She whispered, patting at your hair, doing all she could to soothe you, and you could only cry harder against her shoulder. 

Smelling her shampoo, feeling the natural warmth of her soft skin, revelling in the grounding sensation of loose drops of water smearing from her hair onto your head and neck, unable to hold yourself back from wrapping your arms around her and holding on like she’d fall to sand otherwise. These were the things that made you break. 

“I love you,” your voice was barely there, not even a whisper, as you spoke against her skin. “I love you.” 

“What? What are you saying, honey? Speak up, baby, let me help you.” She sounded so worried, so pained, so shocked but determined to help, and you shook your head to rid yourself of fog. 

“I love you.” It was a croak. “I love you.” A louder croak. Until you were repeating it into her shoulder, falling apart against her body, clutching her like a dead man to life. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you Lilia. I love you Lilia. I’m so sorry, I love you.” I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. It was all you knew. It was all you felt. 

“I’m in love with you.” A huff of breath, a final stutter, as you swallowed harshly and sniffled and cleared your throat. Your eyes burned something fierce, still red and puffy and wet, but you kept them open and stared at the side of her neck when you said it again. “I am in love with you.” It was a shameful whisper, an out of place declaration, but you were overwhelmed and she was there to hold you and you felt like nothing else mattered in that little moment. Only your love for her. Only Lilia. 

She was quiet. Her hands still moved, running along your back over your shirt, patting down your hair, resting her chin on your shoulder. She was quiet. 

“Was it the song?” She whispered, and you nodded. “Was I too loud?” 

“No,” you said too quickly, loosening your grip, preparing to move away, but Lilia didn’t budge. Not a single muscle moved. And so you held on again, surprised, and admitted softly, “You were perfect.” 

She was still quiet. For a little while, that’s how it was. Your heart began its slow recovery, piecing itself together, readying the battle stations for the moment she properly rejected you, and you shook lightly in her arms while you tried regulating your emotions. And Lilia was still and quiet. Petting you, holding you, not worried at all about her towel or how much water was getting on the floor. You were going to mention it, going to try and move on from the moment so you could return to the way things were as if you hadn’t just poured your soul out to her like you always told yourself you wouldn’t, but then something happened. 

Her throat moved against your ear, a light buzz, then a louder one. 

“Lies the seed,” she sang softly, “that with the sun's love… in the spring… becomes the rose,” she trailed off, slowly, into a gentle hum, and your heart trembled, barely holding on, and you almost choked on your breaths when Lilia finally moved. 

Her hands were gentle, detaching you from her, slowly pulling back so soft damp palms could move up to cup your cheeks. There was only one place to look, into those deep amber eyes, and you felt your expression crumble when you saw the quiver of her lips, the tears, the furrow of her dark brows, the way her curls stuck to the sides of her face. No makeup, no armour, no magic, bare for the world to see, open and vulnerable in a way never experienced, felt, witnessed before. You looked at her, stunned, and saw the fear and the hesitation in her gaze. She was so scared, so worried about the consequences, about what would happen if love once again only favoured the lucky and the strong. But the desperation lurked - the same need you saw in yourself. The knowledge that to keep it inside was to kill. 

And why succumb to death when you could love instead? 

“You are my sun,” Lilia breathed, raspy and gentle, her chest heaving with breath. Her cheek twitched like she wanted to smile, but you were frozen, and you could only look at her like a lost child. “And I love you.” 

And she loved you. 

And she loved you. 

And she loved you. 

Lucky and strong.

Your rose. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The Rose by Bette Midler you will always be famous... - Rip x

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

[imorynn]

.𖥔 ݁ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 | l . calderu

.𖥔 ݁ pairings : lilia calderu 𝓍 fem!human!reader

.𖥔 ݁ word count : 4k+

.𖥔 ݁ genre / contains : angst, though fluff, mild suggestive nsfw content / smut, descriptive writing, heartache ? :,> this is somewhat scrambled due to lilia’s unilinear visions and experiences, apologies if it makes no sense — there really is no sense when it comes to love

.𖥔 ݁ tags : @multixfan @etherynn @dymttz @spicelevelofthebible @honeypiperpizza123 @rydermovies @emilynissangtr @astrophiliaxx @derry-n @beachhausu @ludoesartandstuff @weemswife @witchymadness @aggieharkness @yourgirlxp @mrsines @klien2000 @yourbasicqueerie @asimpforwomen @shinramyunnoodles @babythere @kenzie-floops @confuseuniverse @lady-darkswan3 @mgruiz @liliastriangle @thegoddamnfeels !!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ inspo :

── THE ELDER WITCH exhaled, the words — a benediction she learned centuries ago from the person she adored with the entirety of her fractured existence — whispered to herself in hopes for some sort of grounding, of sense. “Time is an illusion that helps things make sense. Life is just a collection of moments.”

And for her, those moments within the Path, this awaiting led to you.

The threads of time swirled around her, a tapestry of every moment she had ever lived. Each gap — the whispers of lives she had touched and lost — folded in on itself.

And then, she came across the picture-framed ones she kept tucked in the furthest walls of her mind, that held more significance than anything she perhaps had ever come across with — she saw, felt you.

It unraveled with a scent: citrus, wildflowers, a dash of jasmine, and salt air, so vivid it captured her breath. Her vision blurred, and when it receded, she was no longer on the Road but seated on the bed of soft grass atop an acquainted sunlit hill, her hand, ringed and aligned with centuries of age of the current timeline she existed in, clasped within yours. Your skin was as soft as she recalled, though there was the subtleness of lines of age and slight callouses, and your eyes — matured, crow’s feet kissing the corners — were ignited with that same love that always grounded her.

Your warm-hued eyes marveled at the celestial lights above, as they had such countless times before, while she marveled at how the gleams illuminated your face. It was impossible to take in the beauty of her world when her attention was wholly claimed by the simple presence of someone who outshone it effortlessly.

“You’re here,” she whispered in wonder, jaw trembling.

You smiled, the corners of your mouth lifting gently. “I’ve always been here, Lilia. Just like you’ve always been with me.”

The world realigned. She perceived the warmth of the Sicilian sun on her face, the texture of the grass beneath her fingertips. Yet she also feels the icy bite of the trial chamber, the sting of her flashing visions as it reaches its breaking point.

“I miss you, darling,” she breathed out. Tears spilled freely now, golden light mingling with the wetness on her cheeks. “Every moment, every gap — it’s always been you.”

Your hands cradled her cheeks, thumb swatting away her tears before lovingly soothing the furrows between her brows. There was that expression she adored so much etching your features; the subtle purse of your lower lip, the tiny frown of your brows mimicking hers, your fingers sliding into her hair and thumbs ever so gently applying pressure against her temples. You always tended to do that to alleviate the spasms of pain within her head. “And you’ve always been back then,” you softly said. “Every time you look, you find me. And when you let go, you’ll find me again.”

The picture unfurled like silk, soft and weightless, winding through her thoughts with the slow, relentless certainty of ivy claiming a wall. It filled the voids left by centuries of solitude, stitching together fabrics of what had been lost. Lilia’s mind fractured and healed all at once, each shard of memory glimmering with vivid clarity until they bled into one seamless vision — no, memory.

It began with the kiss of the earth against her back, the cool grass cradling her like a lover’s embrace. The blades stroked her bare skin, whispering in voices only the night could carry. Above her, the heavens stretched vast and infinite, their dark expanse jeweled with stars that shimmered like ancient sentinels, humming faintly with a secret music only she could hear. The moon hung heavy and low, a silver chalice spilling its light over the hills, bathing the world in a spectral, ethereal glow that blurred reality into something dreamlike.

And then there was you, the axis around which this memory revolved. You had led her here, your fingers laced with hers, pushing your joined palms into the soil, your grip firm though never enough to hurt, always overwhelmingly sufficient in tenderness, as though you feared she might drift away. She remembered the sound of your laughter being muffled into her neck —low and abundant, threaded with the warmth of your kiss that made her chest constrict. It had danced on the breeze, mingling with the rustle of plains and the soft cadence of her heartbeat.

“You’re incorrigible,” she had teased, her voice carrying that familiar edge of dry wit, smile half-hidden by the shadows.

“And you,” you had countered, your belief steady as the earth beneath her, “are breathtaking.”

Her breath had hitched at the weight of your words, at the way your mouth skimmed hers, the brown globes of her eyes fluttering to meet yours. They glowed in the moonlight, vibrant and deep, the kind of eyes that subsided edges and pierced defenses in the same glance.

“I know,” A smirk pulled at her lips but you had seen through her deflection, as you always did.

The memory shifted, folding deeper into itself, until it was your touch that filled her senses. The pads of your digits brushed over her wrist, a touch as light as the wings of a moth, trailing up her arm in a wondrous, deliberate exploration. She released a breathless laugh as your fingers grazed a sensitive spot along her ribs, her body twisting away before surrendering to the warmth of your hands.

“Must you always explore everything as if it’s some ancient relic?” she murmured, her features mirthful and highlighted with affection when her own touch pressed into the slight muscle upon your shoulders.

“With you,” You exhaled reverently, “always.”

Time itself seemed to bend, the minutes stretching and seeping like liquid silver as if the universe had conspired to give you an eternity at this moment. When you leaned closer, her lips rose to meet yours in a kiss that was neither hurried nor restrained, but something in between — a perfect, soft, seeking, and utterly consuming motion. It was grounding and dizzying all at once, a tether to the present even as it pulled you both deeper into something far beyond time. Her mouth deepened its mold against yours, fingers tangled in the fabric near your neckline, pulling you toward her with an urgency she could barely disguise, afraid to let even an inch of space exist between you.

The stars above seemed to blur as her vision hazed, her senses overwhelmed by the way your hands moved over her body. You touched, savored every bit of her as though you were etching every curve, every angle, into memory. The fabric of her dress was discarded, long forgotten somewhere upon the dewy grass, her skin exposed, kissed by the moon’s gaze. Each touch, each kiss, each stare sent ripples through her, a heat that seared and soothed in equal measure.

“You’re staring again,” she pointed out softly, her tone teasing but laced with tenderness. A smirk tugged at her lips, expression as knowing as it was inviting.

“Perhaps I am,” you admitted while cataloging every line of her face, committing it to eternity. “Is that so wrong?”

She pretended to think, her thumb brushing along your cheekbone, her touch lingering. “I suppose I’ll allow it,” her statement feigned seriousness when the subtle purse of your lower lip met her fingers. “But only because you’re so endearing about it.”

Her teasing faltered as her gaze held your own ; astoundingly dazed, love lodged deep and swirling within your pupils. Your fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face. The moment lingered, suspended in the infinite quiet of the night, until she tugged you back down and her lips found yours. This kiss was different — softer, sweeter.

The world around you converted into a tapestry of sensations: the cool graze of the grass, the vibrations of crickets in the distance, the faint rustle of leaves above, and the heat of her skin radiating with yours. Her hands wandered as yours did, outlining the structure of your jaw, the dip of your spine, her touch feather-light, measured. She murmured your name, the sound of it unfurling in worship from her lips.

When the memory descended from its high, the two of you laid entwined beneath the stars, her head resting on your chest, her fingers creating an idle dance over your collarbone. The moonlight illuminated her face, softening the sharpness of her features, casting her in an otherworldly glow.

“I think the stars envy you,” you muffled into her hair, voice rough with dread yet threaded with exhilarating sincerity.

“Flatterer,” The word was gentle, almost unguarded. Her taunting slipped away when she lifted her head to look at you, the dark stands of her hair spilling around her like a dark halo. For once, her expression was unmasked. And then you smiled — lopsided, hopelessly enamored and devoted to your voice, your truth.

“Say it again,” A glimpse of teeth came in that pretty grin of hers, her palm resting over your heart as she pushed herself up towards you.

“The stars envy you,” you exhaled into her mouth, brushing your thumb over her temple. “Because even they can’t shine as brightly.”

She did not tease, nor did she deflect. Instead, she leaned further in, her lips brushing yours in a kiss so delicate it felt like starlight. The vastness of the night melted away within the canvas of the picture, leaving only the two of you— eternal, infinite, unbroken, constant.

Another one of many images — moving, fleeting — was not vivid. It was muted, as though viewed through a fogged window. Sicily, her childhood, the golden glow of a summer afternoon flittering through olive trees. She was younger then in this memory, her dark curls tied back, and you were there — human, ephemeral, your vibrant-hued irises holding her attention as if nothing else in the world mattered. You would laugh, leaning in to tap her on the forehead with a playful finger, uttering something along the lines of how she would forget this moment one day.

But she did not. It stayed, buried somewhere between the gaps.

“Do you remember?” the familiarity of a maturing voice — your voice — murmured now, faint and impossibly close. She felt it more than she heard it, the weight of your words pressing into her chest.

“I always remembered,” Her speech trembled in deep agony. “Even when I didn’t want to.”

The second-motioned picture came in fragments, like the shards awaiting to become the entirety of a mirror. A candlelit room, the fragrance of melted wax and rosewater mingled with your pure essence. Your touch brushed against hers as she fumbled with her first deck of tarot cards. She had been anxious —terrified, really — and you had smiled so softly, your thumb soothing the back of her hand. The warmth of it seared and lingered, long after you were gone.

“You’ll figure it out, Lili,” you’d murmur then, your tone tender but edged with something deeper. She wanted to believe you then. But time had not waited for you. You, with your transient human life, had slipped away, leaving her to walk centuries without you. Without this. “You always do.”

And she had. But the cost of figuring it out was an eternity of gaps, of not being able to live, breathe, bask in the presence with you. A life experienced in fragments, one piece lost, constantly missing.

The evening air was a symphony of fragrances — the tart zest of citrus blossoms mingling with the languid sweetness of jasmine, threading itself through the thick, velvet dusk of Sicily. In moments like these, the world seemed to hold its breath, silencing its usual hum as shadows unfurled like ink across the cobblestone lanes. The burnished glow of the setting sun kissed the strands of chestnut hair framing her face, its light clinging to each wave as though reluctant to let go. Lilia sat close, her hands gripping the folds of her deep amber gown with quiet desperation as if the fabric alone could anchor her against the bruising weight of a world that so rarely understood the depths of her soul.

You were well aware of the truth however, even when others only saw the quiet girl hovering at the fringes of every gathering — the one whose sharp tongue could cut like a blade when pressed, her gaze shadowed by an ancient, unspoken grief. She was more than they realized, more than even she might admit. There was a strange and wondrous duality to her, something both delicate and unyielding, as though she were spun from the gossamer of dreams yet tempered by the unrelenting weight of reality. A witch, a seer — an enigma bound to the relentless march of time, yet adrift within its labyrinthine folds, forever chasing something lost amidst its shifting currents.

“Talk to me, my love.” Your hand reached for hers, the barest graze of your fingertips against her skin. She flinched — an instinctive reaction, not born of fear but of deeply ingrained habit. Lilia rarely allowed herself to be touched; it tethered her too firmly to the here and now, making the voids in her existence impossible to ignore. Yet tonight, she did not withdraw. Her hand softened beneath yours, tentative at first, before settling into a quiet stillness. And when she allowed herself to meet your gaze, you could not avoid the way all oxygen retreated from your lungs. Those eyes of hers were a deep, liquid brown, luminous yet guarded. There was a fragility in them, something akin to a startled fawn — wide and unshielded — yet rich and consuming, a molten warmth that seemed to pull you into its fathomless depths.

“Do you really believe…” she began quietly, voice barely more than a whisper, as though the night might steal her words away if she spoke too openly, “… that time is nothing but an illusion? Just to make sense of things? That everything we see —” her free hand swept outward, sketching the contours of the horizon where the sun had all but disappeared “ —isn’t moving forward or backward, but simply existing all at once? The past, the present, the future… layered together, thin as paper, like the pages of an endless book waiting to be read in any order?”

Your head hitched slightly to the side, stare remaining on her as you attempted to carefully intertwine the threads of her utterance. It was ordinary for her to do this — to speak in fragments and what seemed conundrums to others, as though her thoughts were too vast, too intricate to be bound by the simplicity of ordinary speech. Yet you had comprehended to follow her, to acknowledge and navigate the labyrinth of her mind with tranquility and without hesitation. “I do believe…” you inhaled, voice slow and measured, discerning each word before releasing it, “I believe it is true, and it may mean that every moment we have shared still lingers, suspended somewhere in the folds of time. That no matter what comes next, you and I will always be here, or there — together, untouched by what lies ahead.”

Her lips went ajar, and for a fleeting moment, she stared at you as though you had unraveled some great, unspoken truth. Then, a laugh escaped her — not loud, but soft and bubbling in the air, the kind of sound that contained a dab of wonder laced with skepticism. “You make it sound so effortless,” Her wrist shifted slightly, her palm turning to press flush against yours. Slowly, her fingers wove between yours, the connection deliberate, clutching. “But it’s not,” she said, her voice tinged with an angered sorrow. “Time isn’t kind. It doesn’t care for love or loyalty, for promises whispered in the dark. It only takes — relentlessly, endlessly — until all it leaves behind is emptiness. Nothing to hold onto anymore.”

There was a rupture within the melody of her voice, a trembling note you had never heard before, and it sharply churned through your chest, tightening around the delicate rhythm of your heart.

“Lilia,” Her name tumbled from your lips like a prayer, as if it alone could bind her here with you. You leaned closer, the space between you shrinking, hoping the proximity could shield her from the pressure of her own despair. “Time cannot take this,” you whispered, making an effort to keep those words steady despite the storm swirling inside of you. “Not us. Not what we’ve created. Not what we are.”

She turned to you fully then, her gaze scrutinizing yours with an intensity that felt like it could peel back time itself, every curve, every shadow of your features etching to her memory, her heart. The last rays of sunlight wisped into her dark locks, igniting them in hues of amber and gold, a fleeting halo that crowned her in the fragile light of the dying day. At that moment, with the world balanced on the edge of twilight, you thought she had never looked more achingly, devastatingly beautiful.

“What if I lose you?” she inquired brokenly. The question barely broke the stillness, but it hit like a tempest splitting open the sky. “ What if I’m stranded here, holding the ghost of you, while you… drift away? I’ve seen it happen before. Loved and been left behind, bound to memories that never let go — I’ve lived it, y/n. ”

Your hand rose with a leisured tenderness, fingers curling for her face to nestle there. Her skin was warm — a living contrast to the cold fear roiling beneath your ribs. Her breathing hitched, an unspoken plea — when your thumb brushed over the curve of her cheekbone. “Then you’ll find me again,” your usage of tone a quiet anchor even as your touch surrendered to their quiver. “In the shadows of yesterday, in the light of tomorrow — wherever your steps take you, wherever the road may lead you, wherever your soul resides, I’ll remain here. I’m going to be here for as long as life allows me to be there with you.”

Her eyelids fluttered shut, lashes trembling like leaves caught in the faintest breeze. For a heartbeat, you believed she might shatter, that tears would slip through the cracks in her silence. But when brown orbs met yours once again, there was something more — something delicate, like the first blush of dawn breaking against an endless night. A fragile hope lingered there, hesitant yet alive, the weight of eternity had lessened, if only the slightest. In that flicker of belief, you saw the unvoiced truth: perhaps she would not have to carry forever alone after all.

She leaned into you, the motion so unguarded it stole the air from your lungs. Her forehead lightly kissed yours, and at that moment, the world seemed to narrow, folding into the fragile space you shared. The pieces of curls upon the crown of her head brushed your skin, soft and untamed, carrying the faint scent of rain or something equally fleeting. You could feel the unsteady cadence of her breath, each exhale a confession — you were not certain if it was for her, or you. “You’re not afraid of me,” she said, her voice fraying at the edges, trembling under the weight of her doubt and wonder.

“Why would I be?”

Her mouth hoisted into a wry smile. “Because I’ve seen things—terrible things — deaths, catastrophes. I’ve been hunted, chased out of places. I’ve predicted tragedy more times than I can count. People look at me and see a curse.”

“Ah, but when I look at you,” you ascertained with a lopsided though earnest smile while the pads of your fingers danced over her cheek, “ all I see is Lilia. My Lilia. The girl who taught me how to see the world differently. Who made me discover that time isn’t a straight line, but a song — messy, beautiful, endless.”

A wisp of a giggle ruffled through the air, and you felt her ease into your touch. She sensed you wavering, however, and she was met with your pondering expression. With the way you looked at her, the way you coiled her insides. “You will remain my constant, Lilia. And I’ll always be yours.”

Lilia’s eyes slowly lulled open, and they moistened with something heavy and tender. “Even when you’re not here? Even when… you’re gone? When I’m gone?”

You nodded, bringing her hand to your mouth and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Even then,” you promised. “Time’s an illusion, right? It’s always happening—happened, happening, will happen. And we’ll always find each other again.”

You knew she was seeing something given the distance in her gaze — possibly a version of this moment, maybe another lifetime. She spoke with fervent certainty. “I’ll hold onto you, even when I’m lost.”

You grinned, leaning closer until the tip of your nose nuzzled down the prominent bridge of hers. “You won’t be lost. Not as long as you have me to come back to.”

For a stretched-out while, neither of you uttered a word. There was goodness within silence when you were with the person you felt most comfortable with. The reality revolving around you seemed to cease, leaving only the hum of the ocean, the rustling of grass and leaves and the rhythm of her breathing, of your breathing ; twined, unyielding, steady.

She traced the lines of your palm with her thumb, memorizing the richness of your skin, the delicate strength beneath it. She felt you watching her, her gaze steadying, her time gaps temporarily stilled. Her fingers tightened around yours, her grip firm but trembling, her nails slicing your skin with the faintest pressure, a touch that felt like a plea.

“Promise me something,” She stated this lowly, unevenly, yet urgent enough to command the world to halt.

“Anything,” you softly responded, the word carrying more than a vow—it was surrender.

“Remember this,” she said, the weight of her heart pressing into every syllable. “Even when you’re somewhere I can’t follow, even when I’m lost in my own far-off place. Keep this moment alive. Hold it for the both of us.”

You answered her not with a voice but by closing the distance, your lips meeting hers in a way that was not rushed or faltered. It lingered, it soared, it ached, soft yet infinite, like a vow etched into the unseen threads binding you both to this point in time. You poured yourself into it — into her— as if promises could be spoken in silence, as though the blazing sun and soon moon paused to witness.

When the kiss ended, you stayed close, her forehead brushing yours for an instant before she tucked herself into you. Her head came to rest beneath your chin, her body burrowing into the hollow of your frame, trying to root herself there, to this currency, to your soul. “We’ll always be back then right?” she drowsily murmured, yet Lilia had this power of making things feel certain for you, steady.

“Always,” you planted a kiss to her temple, your arms tightening around her as the sunset seemed to nearly draw to a close and the night to a beginning, the stars above shimmering softly in quiet agreement.

The final piece of the picture — the memory, the moment — came like a rush of wind, nourishing her lungs and lifting the weight from her shoulders. It was you, standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. The sky was painted with hues of orange and pink, the air tinged with salt and the faint sweetness of lemon groves. You turned to her, your expression warm and unguarded, and for a moment, she forgot what it meant to live in pieces.

As the Salem Seven screeched when the balance of gravity reversed, their darkness descended into the piercings that indicated none other than Death.

Her coven was safe, their bonds unbroken, but Lilia was already somewhere else. Warm and all -encompassing. She let go of everything except the picture she clutched onto, the memory of you.

And there you were.

Waiting for her, your arms open, your smile soft, your eyes as brilliant as they had been centuries ago. She, in all her youth, stepped forward, the heart encapsulated within her chest swelling as if it had remembered how to feel whole, before hoisting her skirts and diving into your arms. There was only you, and the softness of your touch, and the faint scent of citrus and jasmine that had always reminded her of home.

“You found me, darling,” her words went muffled into the fabric of your shoulder, tightening her hold on you.

“You found me, Lilia,” her name being spoken by your lips, assisted with the sensation of them against her flushed cheek, her nose, her forehead, felt like the closing of a circle . “I told you. We will always be back then. Time does not matter.”

It did not, she realized that now. Time was the illusion. Love was the constant.

⸻ ᥫ᭡ 𓂃

[ariascoven]

✹ ── SOY CELOSA, LO SIENTO.

PAIRING : professor!lilia calderu x reader

CONTENT + WARNINGS : fem reader. legal age gap. power imbalance. jealousy and possessiveness. brief mention of vomiting. one use of y/n. pet names ( angel / little one / love / baby / dear ). biting and marking. mommy kink, reader calls lilia mamma. semi-public sex. fingering ( reader receiving ).

WORD COUNT : 3.6k

♪ favorite — isabel larosa

AO3 | MASTERLIST | C.AI BOT

Lilia Calderu, history professor — a highly respected and educated woman that treated her students with adequate respect and as her equals instead of inferiors, as many other professors at the college did. She never had any unrealistic expectations for her students, simply asking to receive the best they could do. Not too many rules either, but demanded that the few she had were to be thoroughly followed, punishing those who chose to disobey and ignore the kind-hearted warnings she gave when a rule was broken. Her gentle demeanor and method of teaching earned her a spot in the ranking of favorite teachers, but her ranking of favorite students was filled with only one person — you.

Your classmates weren't stupid, they were fully aware of the special treatment Ms. Calderu gave you and no one else. Those lingering glances and touches that lasted a bit longer than it would be appropriate for a professor to give their student, the adoring smiles being sent your way, and the way she allowed you to break the rules more often than the others. None of those things went unnoticed by the class, but you were simply too busy hanging onto every word that came out of the grey-haired woman’s mouth, standing at the front of the huge classroom, her voice the sweetest melody you’d ever heard as she talked about women’s history and rights with a passion that was beautifully inspiring.

Your usual warm smile was cruelly ripped away from you and turned into a bitter frown the day a new student was welcomed into the class and began to receive every bit of Lilia’s attention; the attention that had always been yours and no one else’s. It upset you greatly, the way the older woman barely acknowledged your presence, being too focused leaning over the new girl’s desk and explaining the lesson with gentle words.

When she called ‘angel’, that was the breaking point for you. Your jaw clenched and hands formed fists under your desk at the sound of your title being used on someone else. You were her little angel, she’d said once. The jealousy bubbling up inside of you within each infernal minute that went by was sickening, and you had to resist the urge to double over and vomit your feelings out all over the floor.

It’s not like you and Lilia even had something going on to begin with, and normally you would be ashamed of your behavior if you weren’t so enraged by the way your favorite person in the entire universe seemed to have forgotten about your existence as a whole. You were acting like a spoiled toddler that didn’t get what she wanted and you were well aware, but to pretend you weren’t affected by the situation was an arguably impossible challenge — one that you were losing and failing miserably at, unable to stop the uncharacteristically snarky remarks that left your mouth almost unwilling, retorting back to every little thing that came out of Lilia's mouth. The classroom was heavy with tension due to your behavior, shocking Lilia and your classmates, who were so used to seeing you looking at the wise woman with captivated heart eyes.

When class came to an end, Lilia dismissed everyone. As you began to stand up from your desk and gather your things, the usual warmth of her voice was missing as she called out to you. “Not so fast, Y/N. Your smartass stays behind.” Her tone of voice made it clear it wasn't a question — but an order that left no room for disobedience. You let out a huff and plopped back down onto the chair, crossing your arms in annoyance. Your eyes were unusually cold as you looked up at the professor, watching as she locked the door for privacy. Lilia’s own arms crossed over her chest as she slowly approached you with silent footsteps and a disapproving frown lingering on her lips.

“Mind to explain what the hell happened today, young lady?” She questioned, voice lower than usual, hands resting on your desk as she leaned over it, just a few inches away from you. “The little display of disrespect you showed during class is nothing like you. I need to say, disappointment is an understatement.” You felt insignificant, terribly small under her stern gaze. The words stung more than you’d like to admit, even though you knew you deserved it with the horrible way you were acting, especially towards the woman who gave you nothing but affection in its purest form.

“I’m surprised you even noticed. You seemed so concentrated on the new girl I thought you forgot about me.” The words dripped from your lips bitterly, the hint of jealousy not going unnoticed by Lilia, who simply narrowed her eyes and kept staring at you. It wasn’t like you, but at that moment, you hated Lilia — and hated the way your stomach fluttered as she scanned your face. How was she so attractive when angry?

She inched closer, a hand reaching to hold your chin between her fingers in a tight grip, the cold metal of her rings making you shiver. She doesn't speak at first, those wise brown eyes boring into yours as if reading your soul and seeing your entire life. Then she clicked her tongue, forcing your head back and eliciting a gasp from you from the roughness.

“Jealousy doesn't suit you, little one.” The huskiness of her voice made your thighs clench, heart beating insanely faster. “You know you’re my favorite, don’t you, angel?” As she questioned with raised brows, her piercing gaze was unwavering, never faltering from your flushed face, not even once.

It took a while for the words to come out of your mouth, voice trembling as you finally spoke. “You didn't even look at me today. Not until I started being a fucking asshole.” The shame, previously shielded by the immeasurable anger you felt only moments earlier, began to wash over you. Not only were you rude to Lilia, you did it in front of the entire class. As the realization finally hit you, no longer driven or blinded by rage, frustrated tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, a mixture of humiliation and genuine sadness over the feeling of rejection that Lilia’s actions inflicted on your confused little brain.

At the sight of your teary eyes and saddened face, everything Lilia could do was melt for you. You didn't even know the effect you had on the older woman, unknowingly stealing her heart and making it your own home — and she kept you there dearly, with no intention of kicking you out. Her frown deepened and a sigh fell from her lips, running her hand through her hair. She moved to stand next to you, hands carefully cradling your face and pulling you close. Almost automatically, your arms wrapped around her and you nuzzled her chest, hiding your face away from the world. Crystal tears streamed freely down your face, wetting the fabric of the professor’s silk shirt.

The sound of your small sobs filled the empty and otherwise quiet classroom, body softly shaking under Lilia’s gentle hands caressing your hair and back in complete silence, simply waiting for you to let it all out. She looked down at your crying form empathetically, heart clenching at the thought she was the one to make you feel like that — though not on purpose, she still felt horrible for hurting her special girl, the one who brightened her days even during the hardest of times.

You’re not sure how long you stayed in that position, but it sure felt like an eternity. Pulling away, you wiped your nose with the back of your hand and glanced down at the embarrassingly big wet patch on Lilia’s shirt. “I’m so sorry…” you whispered, slowly looking up to meet Lilia’s eyes.

She offered you a small, loving smile, nodding subtly. Hands moved to cup your tear stained face, thumbs gently caressing your rosy cheeks. “Don’t apologize, love.” The pet name forced a smile out of you, the usual sparkle returning to your eyes. “I’m sorry, hm? I didn’t think you’d be so upset. I’ll never ignore you again, okay? I promise.” She leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering against your skin for a bit longer than considered necessary — not that you would ever complain about it, obviously.

“Do you mean it?” God, you sounded pathetic, almost whiny. But Lilia loved it. She hummed and nodded, tilting your head up just the slightest bit.

“What can I do to prove how much I adore you with my whole heart, little one?” The question, spoken in a way that was seemingly innocent and genuine, was a stark contrast to the hungry look in her eyes. Desire was hiding beneath those orbs, and you weren’t sure if her pupils had dilated or if you were just imagining things.

You could feel the blood rushing to your face, the thumping of your heart loud against your ears. Your fingers held the fabric of her shirt firmly, hands shaking ever so slightly. Your lips parted, breath becoming ragged as you gathered the courage necessary to ask for what you wanted. Your mind was a mess, and it got even worse when the older woman leaned down just enough to trail her nose against your neck, the touch leaving a trail of goosebumps on its wake.

“Make me yours.” Your voice trembled, hands working to pull her even closer. You were still sitting on the chair while Lilia’s standing form towered over you, forcing you to tip your head back to look at her properly. It made you look submissive, and the words slipping from your mouth only made you seem all more irresistible.

Before your brain could process the risky words that came out of your mouth, a firm hand wrapped around your waist with a possessiveness that made you drip. You gasped when you got pulled up to your feet and practically dragged to the professor’s desk, being lifted onto the surface with a strength you weren’t even aware Lilia possessed. Hands on your knees, she spread your legs apart and stood between them before moving to cup your face.

“Are you sure you want this, love? Because once I claim you as mine, there’s no going back. It’s forever, you hear me?” You nodded frantically at her words, hips subtly rolling against the air. The motion brought a side smirk to Lilia’s face, a breathy chuckle escaping her as she shook her head in amusement. “So desperate. For me?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died in your throat and a strangled whine came out instead when the older woman cupped your pussy under your skirt. She groaned as her palm made contact with the damp fabric of your underwear, rubbing it teasingly. You let out a quiet moan when Lilia’s lips found your neck once more, tilting your head and granting her full access. She nipped and sucked, leaving open-mouthed kisses and hickeys all over the sensitive, shivering skin. Her hand never moved from your clothed cunt, not even for a split second. But it wasn't enough, not even close.

When you moved your hips against her hand, desperately seeking for friction, a yelp was forced out of you at the canine teeth sinking into your flesh out of nowhere. The bite was painful, but the discomfort was quickly replaced by pleasure. Your eyes fell closed at the unfamiliar, yet not at all unwelcomed, sensation, a hand flying to the back of Lilia’s head and pulling her impossibly closer. Needing, craving every inch of her. She trailed kisses up your neck and peppered your jaw with featherlight kisses before capturing your lips with her own in a frantic, passionate kiss.

It was sloppy and needy, all the pent-up desire and yearning being set free after months of being pushed away and hidden from the other. The groan she let out when you tugged at her bottom lip made a sense of pride wash over you — she needed you as much as you needed her, a concept you wouldn’t deem as possible even in your wildest dreams. But there she was, the hottest teacher you’d ever had, groping your chest over your shirt. Her tongue begged for entrance and you gladly complied, parting your lips. As the kiss deepened, you simultaneously let out soft moans and gasps against each other.

When you pulled away for air, panting and with dazed eyes, you barely had time to think about your next move as Lilia pushed your underwear to the side and began to rub your clit, with no barrier of fabric between you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the sudden stimulation, hands moving to grip the edge of the desk tightly, until your knuckles turned white. “Fucking hell, baby, you’re soaking wet.” She muttered, eyes locked between your thighs where her hand was.

You nodded and hummed, the sound coming out more like a whimper. Then every movement stopped and your eyes snapped open, wide and desperate. Although slightly annoyed at the unwanted interruption, you watched Lilia fumbling with the buttons of your shirt and taking it off your shoulders. Your bra was unclasped with a soft click and thrown away, landing somewhere in the classroom — something for future you and Lilia to worry about. Your back arched when her hands got a hold of your breasts, kneading them gently.

You let out a loud moan when her lips wrapped around a nipple, the other being toyed with by her hand. She never looked away as she swirled and flicked her tongue against the hardened peak before switching to the other one. Soft noises escaped her now and then, but you were a mess, moaning at every little bit of stimulation she gave you. Your mind went blank when she went back to rubbing your clit and planted a few kisses on your chest before pulling back up to kiss you again.

You moaned shamelessly against the heated kiss, feeling the older woman’s fingers caressing your soaked folds and sending sparks of pleasure through your body. After breaking the kiss, she brought her own fingers to her lips and sucked the wetness off them. Her eyes closed and a moan escaped her at the taste of you. Your body trembled with excitement, legs unconsciously spreading wider and hips bucking against nothing.

“You’re so sweet, my dear.” She muttered, nose brushing against yours as her fingers returned to your pussy, delving deeper into the folds. “In every way possible.” She grinned at the breathless giggle you let out at the words, enjoying the way the sound turned into a moan full of lust when she pushed two fingers inside you. Your warmth welcomed her eagerly, inner walls pulsing around her digits, which she thrusted in and out slowly.

“Mamma…” The whiny word came out of your mouth before you could stop it, too turned on to think straight. Lilia’s eyes widened at the same time yours did, simultaneously realizing what you had called her. “Fuck, Lilia, I’m—” She didn’t let you finish, her free hand grasping your chin.

“Call me that again.” When you obeyed, the desperation audible in the moan she let out matched yours. The sound made your eyes widen further, and so did the third digit that was pushed inside you without a warning. She was so deep, the pace still arguably slow but hitting just the right spots. The grip she had on your chin was firm, almost bruising, eyes boring into yours with an intensity you’ve never seen in her before. “That’s right, angel. I’m your mamma, hm?”

You nodded pathetically, head falling back and pussy clenching around her digits. You hissed in pain; not from the fucking, but from the way your hands hurt from holding onto the desk for dear life. Lilia curled her fingers with every hard thrust she gave, gradually picking up the pace until you couldn’t stop the high pitched yelps falling from your lips each time she hit the spot that made you see stars. “So close, mamma! Harder, I—”

Your legs almost gave out beneath you as you suddenly got pulled off the desk. Your mind spun at the same time your body did, Lilia’s surprisingly strong grip harshly forcing you around, a hand on your back she pushed you forward, your upper body falling onto the harsh surface. The thrill of being bent over by your much older professor over her desk after class was immeasurable, a breathless chuckle escaping you as you looked over your shoulder. Your breath hitched at the grin she had on her lips — the most sinful thing you’d ever seen. You completely gave in to the intense pleasure you felt, cheek resting on the desk and a moan falling from parted lips as she began rolling her hips against you. You pushed back, ass grinding against her.

The fabric of your skirt was quickly hiked up around your waist, warm hands running up and down the soft flesh of your ass. She chuckled at the way you pushed back, leaning into the touch you were so needy for and begging for more — begging for anything and everything she was willing to give you. Her hands found your dripping cunt once more, realizing you’d gotten even wetter. She muttered something under her breath, something you were too dazed to comprehend, mercilessly pushing three fingers inside you.

Lilia’s experienced fingers seemed to have doubled their efforts, the pleasure becoming almost too much — keyword: almost. A hand snaked around your body to play with your tits, twisting the peaks and squeezing the plump flesh as she continued railing you. “You’re so tight, baby.” She whispered, leaning over your back with her breath fanning against your ear. “Like you were made for me.”

God, you were made for her. Completely and utterly, you were hers and no one else’s, always had been and would always be. The way no one, not even yourself, had ever managed to get you so close to orgasming as quickly as Lilia did only confirmed that theory. She whispered sweet things against your ear that fueled your pleasure, nibbling on your earlobe. “You’re getting even wetter, little one. Such a horny little thing, aren’t you?” She nagged, the tone of her voice almost mocking and the wicked grin on her face audible.

“Mamma, I’m gonna cum!” You cried out, feeling embarrassed at the drool dripping down your chin but unable to stop it. You tried your best to ignore the feeling Lilia’s desk was going to break from how hard you were clutching its edges. Your body rocked with the impact as her hips thrusted against you in time with her speedy fingers. Her hand slowly slid down your body, from your chest to your clit, harshly rubbing circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves and sending shockwaves through your body. Your moans became louder and high pitched within every second that passed, bordering on pleasure filled screams as tears began to form on your eyes.

“Look at you, crying for mamma.” She cooed, feigning pity, but unable to hide the affection in her voice. Her nose trailed the same path as it did before, moving up and down your neck and sending delicious shivers down your spine. “Cum for me, my angel. Let me claim you as mine.”

The possessiveness mixed with gentleness of her words and written on her face drove you wild, more than enough to send you over the edge. Your face fell forward and buried itself in your folded arms over the desk, teeth sinking into your own flesh to muffle the sobs and whimpers dripping from your lips as you experienced the most mind-blowing orgasm you’d ever had. You felt dizzy as your juices coated Lilia’s fingers, feeling her free hand tenderly caressing your waist as you rolled your hips weakly, completely spent.

Lilia peppered kisses on your bare shoulder and back, slowing down the movements of her fingers and only pulling out the moment you stopped moving and let out a whiny sigh, body going limp. She spun you around much more gently than she previously did, and brought her fingers to your lips. With half lidded eyes never looking away from hers, you took them into your mouth, humming with approval as you tasted yourself. Lilia watched you intently, biting her own lip.

“God, you don’t know what you do to me when you give me those puppy eyes.” She whispered, slowly removing her digits from your mouth, pupils dilating at the way you stuck your tongue out. “Or when you do that. Add it to the list.” With her hand now free from the evidence of your little activity, she hugged your waist and smiled — a genuine smile that carried all of the love she held for you.

You offered her the best smile you could, mind still clouded with the aftermath of your exploding orgasm. “I love you, Ms. Calderu.” You said weakly, arms wrapping around the grey-haired woman’s neck as you used her body to support your weakened and trembling form.

“It’s mamma to you, dear.” She joked, playfully poking your stomach. The smile on her face slowly faded and made way to a frown as she realized your upper body was still naked. Looking behind you, she caught a glimpse of the shirt, hanging off the desk and almost falling off, but the bra… She looked around the classroom. “Um—”

“We should leave it there to see who finds it.” You suggested, your voice sounding weirdly serious. You stifled a giggle by biting your lip at the way Lilia quickly turned around to face you with a dumbfounded look and raised eyebrows.

dividers made by cafekitsune

images found on pinterest

do not repost my work anywhere

[likae]

hey, if youre still taking requests I'd love to read some fluff lillia x reader from you. Maybw something like readers love language is touch and they just love kissing lillias hands, forehead, lips, neck just all over her all the time and it flusters her evertyme

You’re My Moonlight’s Call

starring : lilia calderu x fem reader

sypnosis : on a chilly night, you moon gaze with your beloved. seated atop her lap, you can’t help but shower her with affection. she gets flustered and.. well.. so do you.

content : fluff. affection. love!

word count : 491

to anonymous : FROM ME?!? YOU WANNA READ SOMETHING FROM ME?!? PLEASE SHUT THE FRONT GATE. YOURE SO SWEET. i am in tears. I know this is, like, super short and I have a confession to make… I cannot do affection without internally crying inside. PLEASE FORGIVE ME. I wrote this with my whole heart and soul so i really hope u like it. 🫡 And genuinely! Thank you, thank you SO SOOO MUCH for the request! It fills my heart with glee! And for being such a sweetheart too 🥹

As you and Lilia gazed upon the everlasting moon that adorned the night sky, the cold breeze blew. Being affected by the chill, you snuggled closer to Lilia’s neck. You were seated on her lap, your arms wrapped around her.

“Is it getting cold, love? We can go back inside?” She offered. Her brown eyes focused on you; the moonlight highlighted her curls.

“I’m having fun watching the moon with you, Lils.” Your breath fanned her neck, and she found comfort in it. The close proximity between you both spoke in a language you both understood—it didn’t need translating. Just as you clung to her for warmth, she wrapped her arms around you for security.

Lilia gazed at the moon, lovingly so. She always seemed to look at it with great admiration. You picked your head up from off her shoulder to look at the moon again; its many craters scrutinized under your curious gaze. Lilia’s arm moved from your shoulder to your hip, and you found her hand to connect your fingers together. She responded in kind by affirming your touch. You turned to look at her. And how beautiful she looked.

You brought the back of her hand to your lips—gently placing a kiss on it. She seemed to be somewhat surprised but not quite—as if she should’ve expected it to begin with. You met her eyes and planted another kiss, this time on her wrist, as you brought her hand to cup your cheek. Her eyes swirled with affection and adoration.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you more,” she replied, idly drawing strokes on your cheek.

You smiled at her touch, basking yourself in her love. You softly pulled away from her touch and nestled your face in her neck again. The gentleness of the moment set in between you both, and your heart fuzzed with endearment. Without much thought, you planted a kiss on the side of her neck. Lilia’s breath stiffened, and you could feel the slight beat of her quickened pulse. Her temperature became warmer, and you couldn’t help but giggle a little. She didn’t comment, watching the moon more intently. You felt the need to pull her leg a bit more, planting a kiss on her cheek.

She turned to look at you as if to say, “Stop it,” but there was no mistaking the pink that tinted her cheeks. The pale moonlight above only ever made her look more ethereal than before—something that never failed to steal your breath. Lilia Calderu never failed to steal your breath.

To break you away from your thoughts, Lilia cupped your cheek once more—this time planting a kiss atop your nose. You jump from your skin a little. A little embarrassed, you bury your face in her neck to avoid her loving eyes; the rise in her temperature made her warmer than before.

“I love you,” she whispered in undying love.

“I love you more.”

p.s. : hi guys… how we feelin’? happy valentine’s day to u all! i genuinely hope hope hope u enjoyed ur day! and hey… my dms are open. don’t be shy to drop in a message anytime shall u ever wish to, hehe :3 !! as always, plz take care of urselves! tuck yoself in bed kindly. (i say as im covered in pillows.)

[heartzfromel]

hey! i’ve got a request for youuu. totally optional :)

Lilia x reader with a transfiguration witch gf who pulls her out of her “visions” when they become too much through touch. they’re traveling the road with the coven, but the coven doesn’t know they’re dating and thinks they’re just friends. cut to surprise and shock when reader pulls Lilia out of a particular rough “vision” with a kiss.

i’ve been thinking of writing this for a while, and honestly might still do it, but for now it’s just an idea and i would love to see your take on it!!

-kenzie 💛

snap out of it || lillia calderu x fem!witch!reader

omg thank u sm for this request this is such a cute idea 💕💕

a/n; i feel like i haven’t written her right but bare w me its my first lilia fic

taglist; @multixfan @yourbasicqueerie @angeliccss @walkethisway @audreylise @confuseuniverse @babythere @kenzie-floops @delusionaforolderwomen @ex-t3rr3strial

tags; established relationship, i tried to write lilia’s visions like in the show but more dramatic but idk if i like it, kissing, flirting, agatha is a menace to society, alice wu gulliver third wheeling

they had started coming back again a few days before you and lilia had joined agatha harkness’ coven. lilia’s visions hadn’t been this erratic for a long, long time, and it was starting to worry you.

you’d been dating lilia only a few months, but you’d known each other for centuries. you met her as she was fleeing sicily and ever since then your lives had become entangled with one another’s, sometimes seeing each other every day for five years at a time, and then not seeing each other again for a decade. your attraction to lilia had always been known to you, but you’d never made a move, for 4 centuries you had longed for her, and maybe she’d done the same with you. the two of you had this sort of unspoken regret, for not being brave enough sooner, but you’d decided that you were just glad that you finally had her now.

the last time lilia had had visions that distressed her as much as this was almost a hundred years ago. luckily, you’d been there both times, and so you knew how to jolt her out of it. for most visions, it just had to be a simple brush of your fingertips against her skin, but it changed depending on the vision. funnily enough, you were the only one who could could get her to snap out of it, but she didn’t seem to mind.

right now, you were sat on her kitchen counter, messing with a rose quartz pendulum, belonging to your girlfriend. lilia was out the front of the shop, and you stayed away. lilia did most of the work at the front, (doing readings, talking to customers, things like that), whilst you preferred to unpack orders to be taken into the store and stink up your girlfriend’s kitchen with cinnamon insence, which drove her up the wall constantly as she hated the smell, she was always getting on at you for it, but you loved it when she was all annoyed at you because she couldn’t stay serious for more than five minutes.

you’d just lit a new stick when lilia barged into the room, frustration painting her features. you jumped to blow it out, tossing it to the side as if nothing happened.

“hey, lils what’s wro-“ you began, but your words were interrupted when your eyes trailed over to the doorframe, spotting one agatha harkness leaning against it, a permanent smirk etched on her mouth, followed by an awkward looking boy, couldn’t even have been seventeen, smiling and waving. you rolled your eyes.

“oh gods” you mumbled.

turns out, agatha wanted the two of you to join her and her coven on the witches road.

“we are in desperate need of a divination witch, you know. and transfiguration always comes in handy.” she mused, trying to persuade you.

“no witch in her right mind is going to join agatha harkness’ coven.” lilia argued, clearly not having any of this.

“not looking for right-minded witches, as it just so happens…” agatha smirked, turning to face the boy behind her who mirrored her expression.

“no.” you answered, taking your eyes off of the pendulum in your hand and turning to face her.

“why not?” she asked.

“because you’re the reason why there are so many misconceptions about us.” you answered, getting frustrated now.

“moi?” she clutched her chest, feigning innocence.

“you’re the reason people thing we poison apples, and steal children, and eat babies!” lilia listed, the disgust evident in her voice.

“babies are delicious.” agatha grinned, she knew she was getting lilia riled up.

now you, for one, didn’t believe in the road, and you didn’t think that lilia really did either, but agatha was really convincing, so you ended up on the sofa in her sitting room, the awkward boy from before smiling at you again, and lilia passing you some sort of food item on a skewer. soon enough you were all singing the ballad in agatha’s admittedly creepy basement.

after you’d done, the teenage boy from before came running down the stairs, yelling for agatha. you wondered how they knew each other, but there wasnt too much time left to think as you’d been informed that the salem seven, whoever they were, were after the lot of you.

her visions got worse once you’d reached the first trial. you and agatha had been sent off to find ingredients for an antidote for a poison, but lilia had insisted she joined you because she didn’t trust agatha. it happened upstairs, whilst you and agatha rummaged through the potions witch, jen’s, skincare, she seemed to freeze, before simply yelling “try to save agatha!”

you grabbed her arm and rubbed it soothingly to break her out of it quickly, but it didn’t stop agatha from taking notice, but she didn’t say too much on the matter.

there were a few more as you walked the road to your next trial, but lilia was quieter than the first one, she hadn’t yelled outwith a trial. you understood that the road was likely messing with her, so you linked your arm with hers to help keep the visions at bay as the coven ventured further down the road.

with the unfortunate passing of mrs davis in the last trial, the coven were now in desperate need of a green witch, and so the coven had decided to summon a new one, a terrifyingly beautiful witch crawling out from underground. she seemed to have a history with agatha, but the coven left it alone.

it was during the second trial that lilia had that vision. the coven explored the 70s inspired room that you had been transported to as agatha admired herself in the mirror as per usual. you were looking at various paintings with alice and your girlfriend, when she started to spout nonsense, which scared you a little bit.

“which is it, am i wispy or am i kooky?” she babbled.

“uh… both?” alice answered, glancing at you in confusion. lilia just looked confused.

“what?” she asked, tone suddenly dripping with her usual sass.

you just looked at her, a slight smile on your face as your hand rubbed her arm. alice had seemed to clock the endearment in your eyes as she looked away, clearly trying not to giggle whilst simultaneously attempting to get jen’s attention, and fsiling miserably.

“you look good, by the way doll.” she smirked, one hand snaking around your bare waist. you looked up at her, leaning your head on her shoulder.

“you don’t look too bad yourself.” you giggled, taking her in properly. she really suited that lipstick.

your moment was interrupted by alice clearing her throat awkwardly.

you looked at her, mortified, “oh i’m so sorry-“

she stopped you, giggling. “don’t. i think it’s cute.” she grinned, before sauntering off to find the rest of the coven.

your eyes followed her as she made her way over to jen, and you smirked knowingly to yourself as alice messed with her hair before going to talk to her.

you were pulled from your thoughts as you heard lilia mumbling to herself again, quickly turning to face her, grabbing her arms, rubbing them both soothingly.

“lilia, sweetheart, you okay?” you asked, having to raise your voice as she began to yell, becoming more distressed by the second.

you reached your hands up, so that they now cupped her face.

“lils.” you yelled. still no answer. you didn’t know what to do, she wouldn’t stop screaming. normally, you’d just do this and she’d be right back from wherever she was, but this time you tried with no avail. the pair of you were now gathering concerned stares from the rest of the coven.

you kept your hands on her face as she seemed to quieten down, but you could tell that she was still in a vision.

if only you could get her to snap out of it.

and that’s when it hit you. pulling her face close, you closed the gap between you, pressing your lips to hers. within seconds her hands were on your waist, lips moving in sync with yours as she pulled you closer.

you broke the gap between you and lilia placed her forehead against yours. she let out a giggly breath and then mumbled into your ear, “i hated that the last time” referring back to a few weeks ago when she’d had another vision similar to that, but had been broken out of it more easily.

“thank you baby.” she grinned, placing her hands on your face and pulling you forward for one more quick peck on the lips.

it was then that jennifer kale cleared her throat, causing you to turn around to face the coven, who all failed miserably at holding in their laughter at the sight of you after your little pda session with your girlfriend. lilia was literally glowing whereas you looked slightly disheveled and yoir face was covered in smudged red lipstick that you didn’t even have on. you couldn’t understand how lilia’s makeup had managed to stay pristine when her lipstick covered half of your face, but she had seemed to find it hilarious.

“so how long’s this been going on?” agatha asked, and for some reason you didn’t really know what to answer. you had only been official with lilia for a short while, but she’s been your soulmate since the day you first met, you knew that, and so did she.

“i’d say 400 years, give or take” lilia answered for you, causing you to grin, you were so glad that she was finally your girlfriend, but you only wished you’d been brave enough sooner.

[writerspirit]

started writing a lilia fic and in my hyper fixated state i wrote the ending first and now my brain is all mushy with conflict

[magicsprat]

Kitty Duval x fem OC

tags and warning: agnst, slow burn, age gap, hurt/comfort, lots of oc (probably, only Kitty is not oc), prostitution, mention of death and illness, murder and blood, self-harm and its consequences, smoking and drinking alcoholic beverages, obscene language, Jewish characters, mention of religion, descriptions of characters in depression, mentions of suicide attempt

wc: ~3k

a/n: Hi everyone! This is the second chapter of my fic about Kitty Duval and alternate history that I came up with for her. I'm excited and scared, but I'm here anyway. I hope you enjoy the new characters you will meet! I have also updated the tags and warnings so that none of you will definitely encounter content that may be unpleasant to you! Remember, English is not my native language, so I apologize for any possible mistakes and inaccuracies! 🤲🏻

Chapter One — Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The sky had decided to unleash all its sorrows upon the earth, drenching it with a relentless downpour. The streets transformed into murky rivers, unable to find an outlet. The asphalt, reflecting the dim lights of the streetlamps, seemed like a living, twisting stream of snakes beneath her bare feet. She ran, feeling the cold water scorch her soles. Nature itself was trying to stop her, to hold her back. And she feared becoming forever trapped here. Her heart pounded in her chest, striking against her ribs. Her breath struggled to escape her lungs, trying to break through the dense veil of fog.

The crowds around her merged into an endless sea of faces — all of them hurrying, seeking shelter under umbrellas and hoods, averting their gazes and failing to notice her desperate attempts to break through the silent multitude. She pushed through them like a ghost, leaving behind a trail of raindrops and tears. In every glance, she searched for him — the silhouette that slipped away with each step. He was somewhere ahead, but every time she tried to draw closer, he vanished into the fog, leaving only a faint trail of memories of how long this chase had lasted.

"James!" the cry tore from her lips, but it drowned in the noise of the rain and the city's din. She felt fear filling her chest and expanding her lungs: what if she didn't make it? What if he remained forever out of reach? Each step was a struggle, her feet sliding on the wet surface, but she continued, refusing to stop trying. Forcing herself to lift her gaze, she finally saw him — a silhouette. He was walking away, holding their little boy in his arms. They couldn't leave; it was dangerous. She surged forward.

The rhythm of her heart clashed with the rhythm of the rain, which seemed to grow louder in its attempts to drown out her thoughts, to distance her from her goal. From the sharp ringing in her ears, she quickly closed her eyes and just as quickly opened them again... And she found herself alone. The people had dissolved into the thick air, leaving her in a void where only the sound of droplets crashing to the ground remained. Darkness enveloped her, and the world around became indistinct. The damp cold embraced her. She froze in place. She lowered her gaze and let out a painful gasp. It was him. He lay on the ground, covering the boy with his body. She felt her chest constrict with horror. She wanted to scream, but her voice betrayed her and stuck in her throat, unable to find its way out. The rain no longer sounded — only an oppressive silence filled everything around.

Leaning forward, she saw his face — pale, motionless. His eyes were closed. He was dead. A painful pang echoed in her chest, and there was a gaping hole in his. She sank to her knees right beside him, not feeling the hardness of the surface beneath her. Her hands trembled as she touched the boy's forehead in his arms — he was so cold.

Hands. Something warm and heavy touched her hands. With a shiver, she looked down and saw that her palms were covered in something dark and viscous. Blood? The bright red blood contrasted sharply with the whiteness of her skin. She tried to shake off the thick liquid, but to no avail. Looking at her knees, she saw that they were deeply cut — deep gashes from which blood oozed. There was no pain, but she couldn't understand where these injuries came from. Her gaze fell on a folding razor lying in her right hand. The blade glinted in the dim light, reflecting the darkness around.

"No... No..." she whispered, trying to push away thoughts of what she might have done. She felt the stickiness filling her chest again. With each drop of blood trickling down her hands, a sense of hopelessness grew within her. She was alone, surrounded by darkness and her own demons. The blade seemed like a heavy burden — it reminded her of what she was capable of.

Suddenly, the silence enveloping her was disrupted by the sharp click of heels, which had never stepped here before. From the darkness emerged a tall figure — a woman with long, flowing black hair and dark, piercing eyes. She seemed both majestic and menacing. A familiar yet unthreatening force that demanded respect. In her hand was a revolver.

She dropped the blade and froze, feeling a chill run down her spine. The woman pursed her lips, and in that moment, everything around seemed to freeze like the handrails on a bridge on a cold evening. Her gaze was full of determination and sorrow, as if she knew something that no one else could understand.

"Why are you here?" she whispered, though no answer came. The woman merely tilted her head, and in her eyes flashed something akin to compassion. But this feeling quickly gave way to cold-bloodedness. The seconds stretched into eternity as she raised the revolver and aimed it directly at the other woman's forehead.

"Because you need me," the woman said softly, but her words were lost in the muffled sound of the gunshot. The loud crack tore through the silence, and a bright flash of light blinded her. It was as if the world had shattered into pieces. In that moment, everything around disappeared — blood, wounds, darkness. Yet, the sound of the rain returned.

Mildred woke up with a start, jerking her head off the pillow. Disoriented and confused, she didn't immediately grasp what had happened. The details of the nightmare quickly faded as she tried to calm her racing heartbeat. Outside, the rain continued to fall. The fading October sun was gradually giving way to a warm but rainy November. Mildred breathed heavily, leaning back against the headboard and staring out the window opposite. The street was dark. She ran her palms over her face, rubbing her eyes with her fingertips. Eventually, the nightmares would leave her alone, she reassured herself; after all, eight years was nothing compared to the time she had spent with him. Mildred let out a soft groan as she lowered her head back onto the pillow. It was too early to start the morning routine, but too late to try to fall asleep again.

Today at Velvet Parlor everything was quiet. The actresses were busy with their own affairs, dispersing into rehearsal rooms to recall old routines and memorize new ones. Other staff members were checking props, coordinating necessary purchases of supplies, and preparing for the next show in the coming month. Life in the cabaret continued its usual, measured pace. Partly because the owner's attention was focused elsewhere.

Mildred sat on the soft couch in her boss's office, who was now more of a best friend. The seamstress's head was tilted back, her nape pressed against the high backrest. Her fingers massaged her temples in a helpless attempt to soothe the approaching ache. The atmosphere of comfort and the owner's impeccable style were always palpable in this room, which was not surprising given her character. The walls of the room, from the floor up to a meter, were made of solid wooden panels, a deep, dark color. They were covered with additional decorative details carved from the same wood, creating a pleasing pattern. The walls above were painted a smoky white. On one wall hung pictures depicting scenes from the life of Parlor — dancers in vibrant costumes, captured in moments from their best performances. Such photographs never left the confines, remaining here in Letizia's office, who didn't allow them to seep into the masses. She always knew that the best feature of her cabaret was the mystique she had cultivated around her persona, her business, and her shows for years. Each photograph hanging here couldn't convey the hard work that the young women put in during each performance, not to mention the efforts of the stagehands, musicians, and the seamstress, who lent their hand to this art. In the center of the office stood a luxurious dark wood desk, its surface perfectly smooth, reflecting the soft light of a table lamp with a frosted glass shade. Documents lay neatly on the desk, and near the corner stood a small decorative plate with jewelry and a framed photograph, turned towards the high-backed chair. The couch, upholstered in a soft, velvet-like material, was placed against the wall, next to a tall window through which sunlight streamed into the room. Beyond the glass was a view of the city, hurried and alive — fleeting figures of people and the lights of cars, which now seemed distant. On the windowsill were fresh flowers in an elegant vase, their fragrance filling the space with pungency. Mildred had never seen anyone bring such bouquets into the owner's office, yet they were always there, as if appearing on their own to brighten the solitude. On the shelves, lined with books and photo albums, stood various statuettes and vases, which the owner jokingly called works of art — in reality, gifts from investors and other enthusiastic viewers in gratitude for the shows. In the corner of the room on a pedestal stood a gramophone, with records stacked next to it.

"Would you like something stronger?" Letizia asked, standing by her desk with her arms crossed over her chest, looking at Mildred. Her gaze conveyed both pity and disdain. Del Rossi hated those moments when her friend allowed herself to sink into this abyss of sadness. In such situations, Letizia felt most helpless. Mildred rarely let herself get like this, but today was particularly rough for her. She didn't even flinch when the older woman made her offer.

"No," Brown replied on an exhale, because only this woman could suggest drinking before noon.

Letizia merely shrugged and, leaning forward, opened the drawer in her desk. She pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two rocks glasses. Placing them on the table, she poured a small amount of the amber liquid into one glass, leaving the other untouched — a silent reminder that Mildred could always change her mind. The whiskey in the glass was just enough for one sip, but that was sufficient. Letizia had no intention of getting drunk in the middle of the day. The burning taste of the whiskey spread through her throat with a pleasant, familiar sensation. Mildred, watching from the side, pursed her lips as if pondering something.

"I just can't help thinking about..."

"I don't understand why you're so nervous about some hooker. Don't get me wrong, doe, but you can't help everyone," Letizia interrupted, her Italian accent sounding particularly gruff. She left the empty glass on the table and, approaching her friend, sat down beside her on the couch, crossing one leg over the other. And this was Letizia talking about the futility of trying to help anyone? Mildred found Letizia's words harsh, but she couldn't argue with them. She certainly wasn't going to deny their truth. The seamstress understood that she couldn't help everyone and shouldn't even try. But... She couldn't shake off these thoughts, which weighed heavily on her shoulders. Sighing deeply, Mildred leaned her head against her best friend and spoke in a softer, wearier voice:

"She doesn't deserve it."

Letizia sighed and shook her head. She knew that Mildred had a genuinely kind heart and pure intentions. However, this didn't stop her from worrying about her friend.

"No one deserves it. But if you haven't noticed, there's little justice here," Letizia said, waving her hand in the air to emphasize her words.

Mildred didn't respond, lowering her gaze to her knees. A heavy silence fell between them, but neither of them rushed to break it. The seamstress let out a soft sigh and, turning her head to the side, pressed her cheek against the back of the couch.

"You appeared in my dream tonight," Mildred said unexpectedly, looking at her best friend from an unusual angle. Letizia had an interesting and memorable appearance — long, naturally curly black hair styled elegantly, thick eyebrows above dark, expressive eyes that always clearly conveyed her emotions thanks to her expressive facial expressions. She always frowned expressively, showing displeasure or raised her eyebrows in confusion. Her long, curved nose and slightly upturned upper lip added to her image. The obvious Italian accent in Madame del Rossi voice created a special image that always played to her advantage. Mildred knew the truth but kept her tongue, not wanting to reveal her friend's secrets to everyone. She not only had promised but also cherished these special relationships.

"Mmm, really?" Letizia drawled with feigned surprise and smiled. She extended her hand and ran her fingers over Mildred's forehead, brushing away stray strands of hair and tucking them back.

"Yes. It seemed like you were shooting me," Mildred replied, faintly smiling as she realized the absurdity of what she was saying. She barely remembered the details of her dream, which appeared before her as disjointed, loosely connected fragments. However, she recalled that del Rossi was definitely present in her latest nightmare. Letizia rarely appeared in her dreams; Mildred couldn't remember any other instance like this one.

"How so? I hope I didn't miss," the brunette replied, smiling and revealing a row of even teeth and two canines. She chuckled softly as she tucked a strand of hair behind Mildred's ear. The younger woman gently nudged her friend in the shoulder and turned her head, trying to hide the smile that touched her lips. Letizia never changed her attempts to be the most unbearable person in Mildred's life. However, Mildred's mood lifted briefly. She let out a loud sigh through her nose and, after thinking for a moment, looked at her friend again.

"If you're planning to leave work early and run to a bar to find your hooker, I'm against it," Letizia said, not hiding the gentle disapproval in her voice.

Mildred couldn't help but let out an indignant snort upon hearing these words. Del Rossi had always been too straightforward, bordering on rudeness, but she never hesitated to express her opinion. Mildred shook her head and replied in a tired voice:

"Stop it. She has a name. And you're acting like a jealous wife."

The seamstress's carefree tone was slightly forced, but she genuinely tried to lighten the mood so as not to appear so exhausted and overwhelmed. Letizia raised an eyebrow meaningfully in response to her friend's words and twisted her lips. If Mildred had the energy to joke, del Rossi didn't need to worry about her.

"What can I do if you want to trade my company for that of a young whore? It really hurts my ego," Letizia said, sighing dramatically, infusing her words with all her theatricality, which she never lacked.

Mildred smiled again and shook her head. Sitting beside the cabaret owner, she gently nudged her knee with her own.

"Stop. You can't be replaced."

The calm silence that followed left too much space in Mildred's mind, which was immediately filled with the thoughts that had tormented her earlier.

"I just can't help thinking about her," the seamstress said, lowering her gaze to her hand lying on the couch. Her index finger drew meaningless patterns on the soft surface.

"Are you in love?" Letizia teased, maintaining her signature smirk. Both women were in good enough terms to joke freely without fear of being misunderstood. Despite others never accepting such humor, thanks to del Rossi's persistence, it had become normal for them. Mildred didn't even bother reacting to Letizia's latest quip, having grown accustomed to them over their long friendship.

"I just feel sorry for her... She looked so young and lost..."

"Listen to me, doe. If I tried to help every pretty hooker I met, I wouldn't be here now. I'd probably have become one of them long ago," Letizia said, placing her hand on her friend's shoulder. She ran her thumb along the contour of Mildred's collar, then stroked her fair skin. As always, del Rossi was right on one hand, but on the other, she was too cynical for the woman she was. Mildred had to admit that Letizia's words contained more sense than immorality. The world was cruel, and countless unfortunate people suffered every day, undeserving of their fate. What right did Mildred have to intervene? The woman sighed and nodded softly.

"Yes, I understand."

Letizia squeezed her friend's shoulder, easing the tense muscles. It was a light touch, but it was distinct and palpable. Del Rossi smiled, looking into Mildred's amber eyes. Brown felt a pleasant shiver run down her spine as the other woman gently massaged her neck. Mildred closed her eyes for a moment and relaxed. It was comforting to feel supported by someone who didn't judge her. Mildred swallowed and continued quietly, opening her eyes and looking at the cabaret owner.

"How do you deal with all this?" she asked, waving her hand in the air, repeating Letizia's favorite gesture. Her voice was slightly hoarse as she tried to suppress the emotions rising within her.

"It's simple," Letizia said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "When all this crap becomes unbearable," she repeated the gesture, pointing to everything around them, "I find a handsome boy and pay him to screw me senseless. That's the secret."

And why did Mildred expect anything different from her? For Letizia, the solution to almost any problem involved having sex until the problem either disappeared or became worse. Only in the latter case did del Rossi start trying to solve it. The expected but extremely candid response from Letizia still made Mildred blush slightly.

"You never change, do you?"

Mildred touched Letizia's wrist with her slender fingers, carefully removing her hand from her shoulder.

"I'm afraid it won't work for me."

"Firstly, you've never tried it," Letizia smirked. "Secondly, if you feel the need to do everything contrary to my advice, you can pay that hooker from the bar and screw her senseless. I think she wouldn't mind," Letizia said, chuckling and finding it amusing.

She was accustomed to Mildred's modest and gentle nature. But it was unbearable for her to watch her best friend's life turn into a meaningless routine.

"Sometimes I genuinely wonder how you've made it this far," Mildred retorted, giving her face an expression of the disapproval she usually reserved for Letizia's wild antics.

"Shut up," Letizia replied, gently nudging the other woman's forearm with her elbow.

"Be ashamed that I've been the best thing that's happened in your life over the past few years, Mila. You're a forgotten woman," del Rossi said, putting meaning into every word. How long was Mildred going to continue grieving over her past? Did she plan to live on? Or was she destined to age prematurely and die alone? The seamstress winced when Letizia nudged her, but didn't take it to heart. However, her words... The woman ran her fingers through her dark chestnut hair with a tired yet thoughtful gesture. She knew that her friend's words were harsh but honest, and deep down, she understood that she needed this kick in the back.

"Go home. Put on your sparkling knight's armor, or whatever you usually wear, and save that girl from her miserable fate," Letizia finally said, pulling Mildred out of the whirlpool of thoughts, and patted her on the shoulder.

"Consider it time to repay fate," she added, slowly rising from the couch. Both of them perfectly understood what Letizia was saying. Mildred was a fatalist because that was her only way to cope with the injustice that had happened to her in life. Brown sighed quietly and again ran her fingers through her hair, this time a bit roughly, as if trying to shake off the gloomy memories that suddenly flooded her like a wave of icy water. Then she stood up and replied quietly, her voice trembling slightly:

"Yes... yes, you're right."

She forced herself to smile, but her amber eyes strangely sparkled, as if she was trying to hold back tears.

I'm sorry that Kitty wasn't in this chapter at all 🤲🏻😭 But, I promise, the next chapter will be dedicated to her!! If you find any errors or typos in the text, please let me know! Questions and criticism are welcome in a mild form! 🫵🏻😘