#Victorian ceiling roses

[authenticage]

Cost-Effective Home Makeovers: Renovation Companies in Melbourne

Are you dreaming of transforming your house into a stunning Victorian-era marvel or an elegant Edwardian-style home? Look no further! In this article, we will explore cost-effective home makeovers and introduce you to the best renovation companies in Melbourne. Whether you desire the charm of a Federation verandah, the beauty of Victorian plasterwork, or the intricate details of cast iron lacework, these companies can turn your vision into reality.

Enhancing Your Home's Exterior with Federation Verandah and Brackets

The Federation era in Australia is known for its unique architectural style, and verandahs played a crucial role during that time. A Federation verandah adds character and a touch of history to any home. To ensure your home makeover project reflects authenticity, it is essential to use Federation verandah brackets that complement the overall design.

When renovating your verandah, consider consulting with Melbourne-based renovation companies that specialize in heritage designs. They have the expertise to craft verandahs that stay true to the Federation era while incorporating modern elements to suit your lifestyle. From selecting the perfect timber to creating custom brackets, these companies will transform your home's exterior into a timeless masterpiece.

Reviving Victorian Elegance with Ceiling Roses

Victorian ceiling roses are intricate plaster ornaments that add elegance and sophistication to any room. These stunning decorative pieces are perfect for creating a focal point in your home's interior. Whether you want to revive a classic Victorian ambiance or add a touch of vintage charm to a contemporary space, Victorian ceiling roses are a fantastic choice.

Melbourne boasts a rich history of Victorian architecture, and renovation companies in the area understand the significance of preserving this heritage. They offer an extensive selection of Victorian ceiling roses and have skilled artisans who can restore or replicate these masterpieces. With their expertise, you can effortlessly enhance the beauty of your home's interior.

Capturing the Essence of the Edwardian Era

The Edwardian era exudes a sense of refinement and grace, making it a popular choice for homeowners seeking a sophisticated makeover. The hallmark of an Edwardian verandah lies in its delicate lacework, which adds a touch of romance and charm to the façade.

Renovation companies in Melbourne can recreate the enchanting Edwardian verandah with authentic cast iron lacework. These companies have access to a wide range of lacework designs, and their craftsmanship ensures that every detail is meticulously replicated. With an Edwardian verandah, your home will exude timeless beauty while capturing the essence of a bygone era.

Victorian Plasterwork: A Testament to Craftsmanship

Victorian plasterwork showcases the unparalleled craftsmanship of a bygone era. From ornate cornices to exquisite ceiling roses, these intricate designs add a touch of opulence to Victorian-style homes.

If you own a heritage home in Melbourne or wish to incorporate Victorian charm into your modern abode, renovation companies in the area can assist you in selecting the perfect plasterwork. Their expertise in restoring and recreating plasterwork will breathe new life into your home, infusing it with the grandeur of the Victorian era.

Finding the Right Renovation Company

Undertaking a home makeover project, especially one focused on preserving or replicating historical elements, requires a skilled and experienced renovation company in Melbourne. When searching for the right company in Melbourne, consider the following:

Portfolio: Review their portfolio to assess the quality and authenticity of their previous projects. Look for attention to detail and a commitment to maintaining the integrity of heritage designs.

Expertise: Ensure the company has experience working with Federation verandahs, Victorian ceiling roses, cast iron lacework, and Victorian plasterwork.

Client Testimonials: Read client testimonials and reviews to gauge the satisfaction level of their previous customers.

Communication: Effective communication is essential throughout the renovation process. Choose a company that listens to your ideas and provides valuable input.

Budget and Timeline: Discuss your budget and timeline upfront to avoid any surprises during the project.

Conclusion

Embracing the beauty of historical architecture through cost-effective home makeovers is a delightful journey. Whether you prefer the charm of Federation verandahs, the elegance of Victorian plasterwork, or the grace of Edwardian verandahs, Melbourne-based renovation companies have the expertise to bring your vision to life.

Preserving heritage elements not only enhances the aesthetic appeal of your home but also contributes to the rich tapestry of architectural history in Melbourne. So, if you're ready to embark on this captivating transformation, reach out to a reputable renovation company and witness your dream home come to life!

[merakiui]

the birds and the bees.

yandere!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, slight dub-con, implied stalking, age gap (riddle is 19 and reader is 29) note - you're hired to teach riddle about the birds and the bees. you need the money. he needs to get laid.

The Rosehearts’s Residence looks about how you expected it to after driving past houses of similar size and grandeur. Unlike you, they’re definitely not strapped for cash. It’s an impressive structure with its elegant wrought iron gates and expertly trimmed hedges. You’re immediately overcome with bitter jealousy when you step through the entrance, passing rose bushes in full bloom. If only your apartment could look and feel as nice as this place. You almost wonder if you should keep Mrs. Rosehearts’s contact in case she ever needs a gardener or a window washer…

But then that risks your cover, and the last thing you want is to get tangled up in trouble with the upper middle class.

Gathering your courage, you smooth invisible wrinkles in your pencil skirt, steady your balance in your Mary Janes—both at socially acceptable lengths and heights—and bring your fist down against the door. Seconds after the third knock, it opens to reveal a woman who looks as prim and proper as the landscape of her home. She takes a long moment, drinking in your formal features, and then smiles approvingly.

“Ah, (Name), you’re early.”

You soften your face into something polite and demure. “Better early than late.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

She steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. You meander into the foyer and are instantly reminded of those exquisite house tours on MagiTube. There’s a fine layer of modest Victorian wealth to the decor. Flowery wallpaper, a lofty ceiling, an aureate chandelier, a vase filled with fresh tulips of all colors… Oh, how you wish you could live here!

“Your home is beautiful,” you comment as you straighten your bow headband.

“Why, thank you.” Her eyes light up once more. “I’ve always admired this neighborhood. Everything is so well-kept. Speaking of which, where did you say you’re from?”

“Oh, I’m actually getting ready to move back to school at the end of the summer,” you explain, narrowly dodging her question. No way I’m telling her I live in a not-so-affluent neighborhood… She’ll totally kick me out. “I’m staying with my parents in the meantime and working a few jobs to support myself.”

“And what was it you’re studying again?”

You paste a hollow smile on, sensing her distrust. I already told you this when we met at the clinic. Do I really seem so suspicious?

“I’m studying to be an ob-gyn.”

“A wonderful profession,” she praises, nodding to herself. “Very wonderful indeed. And how old are you? I merely ask to confirm. There are so many miscreants nowadays. You can never be too sure.”

“I understand completely, Mrs. Rosehearts. I’m—” you almost falter, your real age on the tip of your tongue— “twenty-two. What about your son? You told me he’s also looking to get into the medical field?”

“Not looking. He will pursue medicine,” she corrects sternly. “Just like his mother.”

You swallow your disgust and try not to let it show so openly. Yikes… Talk about controlling.

Mrs. Rosehearts waves you onwards down the hall. “My Riddle will be leaving for his first year of college at the end of August. Though I’m certain he’s more than prepared, it never hurts to review.”

“Absolutely. So you’d like me to give him the talk?”

“Not just that. I’d like you to teach him well enough so that copulation and any other libidinous ideas are the last things on his mind. Stamp them out if you must. He’s to focus on his studies and make good decisions just as I raised him.”

Shouldn’t he already be familiar with this? Besides, he’s not a kid. Of course he’s going to think about sex. Most of us do when we’re horny.

But you can’t say that outright, so you settle for something vastly different.

“It’s important to stay on the right path and be responsible.”

Mrs. Rosehearts nods her agreement. Your stomach twists in discomfort.

On second thought, I don’t want to be upper middle class if these are the people I have to deal with. Is this guy going to have any chance to be social? To live his life? To make and learn from stupid mistakes? I bet he can’t wait to get out of here and go off to school.

“I apologize if this is rude in any way, but I just want to ensure I’ll be paid accordingly.”

“Of course. Good work must always be recognized and rewarded.” She stops at a door. “I cannot thank you enough for lending my Riddle your time. Teach him well.”

“I’ll do just that. You can count on it.”

Pleased with the level of maturity you’ve displayed, she raps her knuckles against the door and calls out, “Riddle, the tutor’s here.”

“Very well, Mother. I’ve just finished today’s readings, so you can send them in,” comes a muffled reply.

Today’s readings? you think, perplexed. Your gaze slides from the door to Mrs. Rosehearts. Does she have this guy doing summer school? That must suck! What a shitty way to spend your summer, cooped up inside filling out workbooks and stuff.

“I’ll be out running errands in the meantime. I trust you’ll be all right by yourself?”

“Perfectly all right,” you assure her, to which she hums and strides past you. You catch her perfume as she departs, and it reminds you of the types of scents worn by saggy, old ladies who have nothing better to do than sit around and complain about the state of the world and the way their children turned out.

In other words, a scent you associate with misery.

You wait until she’s out of sight before opening the door and stepping inside the study. There’s a mahogany desk in the center, and thick textbooks are piled high on either side. Beyond that, beside a big bay window with cream-colored curtains drawn to let in the sun, two large bookcases are packed with an array of tomes. At the front of the room, a blackboard has been built into a wooden frame. Chalk lines the ledge, situated within reach of an eraser. And sitting at the desk, his eyes glued to an open book, is a young man. A pair of round frames sit on the bridge of his nose, slipping ever so slightly down the slope of it when he peers at the page. He pushes them up when he finally lifts his head to greet you.

“Hey.” You wave awkwardly, easing the door shut.

He seems taken aback by your appearance. “Oh, yes. Right. Hello…”

Silence soon fills the space. You wonder if you should just save yourself this nonsensical waste of time and retreat.

“Sooo.” You fold your arms behind your back, rocking on your heels. “Your mother’s probably told you why I’m here.”

“I’m aware.” He shuts his book and stands from his seat. “My name is Riddle Rosehearts. A pleasure to meet you.”

You blink at his outstretched arm. “(Name). Likewise.” You grab his hand and shake firmly. 

So stiff…

“So where’re we starting? The basics? You want the whole ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ version or—”

Riddle scoffs and yanks his arm back. “I’m not a fool. I’ll have you know I’m well aware of sexual reproduction and what it entails.”

“You can call it sex. No one’s forcing you to be all biological,” you tease. His body goes rigid, and his face reddens in what you assume is flustered annoyance. “Anyways, since you’re not as brainless as Mother Dearest wants me to assume, I’ll just get into it.”

Riddle stares at you, his arms folding over his chest. He looks like he wants to argue, but instead he huffs and lowers into his chair.

Wordlessly, you undo the buttons on your blazer and shrug out of it. Your blouse goes next, untucked from your skirt and shucked. Riddle’s eyes are so wide they nearly pop out of his skull when he spies the white, lacy false collar that just barely covers your breasts. You’re about to step out of your pencil skirt next when Riddle clears his throat.

“W-What’re you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No?”

“I’m teaching you the birds and the bees.”

“N-Not in that outfit! S-Surely not…” He averts his eyes, crimson crawling up to his ears. “You’re practically nude!”

“That’s the point of lingerie, silly.” Your skirt pools around your ankles to reveal the rest of your frilly ensemble. A black-and-white cupless bra and crotchless panties set, both with plenty of ruffles, held together with a pair of garters. Still wearing matching stockings and your precious Mary Janes, you bend down to gather your discarded clothes. They’re set aside on a nearby chair. “You can look.”

“A-Absolutely not!” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “Y-You… You’re not decent. It’s rude to stare.”

“Come on. You got past anatomy diagrams just fine.”

Riddle opens and closes his mouth, speechless like a beached fish. Eventually, he manages to gather his coherency. “You’re a tutor, aren’t you? Where’s your dignity?”

“Nonexistent. I lied.” His head snaps over to view you, and he seems so scandalized by your admission that it’s almost comedic. “No way I’m studying to be an ob-gyn. I’m not even in school.”

“What?! But you—”

“It’s fine. I looked the part, didn’t I?” you joke, waving your hand about dismissively. “C’mon, mama’s boy. You’re going off to college. It’s nothing like those stuffy anatomy courses.”

Riddle tries and fails to look at anywhere that isn’t you, his eyes lingering on your chest to the space between your legs to the thigh garter and then to the ceiling. He’s so red you think he might explode.

“You’ve been with a girl before, yeah?”

With lips pursed in a tight line, he shakes his head.

“Sounds about right.”

“And you’re so experienced?”

You flash him a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, mama’s boy.”

“I’m not a mama’s boy!”

“No? So you just let your mother treat you like a little baby at your grown age? You let her pick out sex tutors for you?”

“I—” He stops himself from speaking to mull over your questions. “If it’s what she deems necessary…”

“Because our biggest fear is sexually awkward you knocking up some girl at school, right?”

“I… I would never! Safe sex is—”

“Very important when you’re not trying to conceive. Good boy. See? You know your stuff.”

Riddle’s eyes narrow into vicious slits. You brush his scorching vitriol off and turn towards the board. Procuring a piece of chalk, you scrawl words on it: Birds and Bees 101. Wholly unamused, Riddle folds his arms across his chest.

“Your mother told me you’re gonna study medicine, so you’re probably familiar with everything already. And I’m sure you know all about the baby-making process on a biological level.” You whirl to face him, your tits bouncing with the peppy motion. Riddle swallows thickly. “But just to make sure… Let’s review.”

“R-Review? You don’t mean—”

“What’s this?” Your hands close around your tits. Riddle’s enchanted with the way you squeeze them—the way they depress under your fingers.

“Um… Ahem. Well… T-The breasts. They’re a type of glandular organ located on a woman’s chest, and they’re made up of lots of tissue and fat. There’s the mammary gland—that’s what produces milk. Oh, and then there are the areolas right around the nipples. Those are—”

“You can call them what they are.”

Riddle blinks, shaken from his studious spiel. “W-What?”

“You know the word, mama’s boy.”

He flusters. “Yes, I’m aware. But…”

“No harm in saying it.” You run your fingers over your nipples and giggle sweetly like a schoolgirl. “Go on…”

He inhales a deep breath. “They’re tits,” he mumbles, desultory. “Y-Your tits.”

You clap, beaming brightly. “Well done! Moving swiftly on…” You run your hands down the expanse of your stomach, stopping just beneath your navel. “What’s here?”

“Your womb. O-Otherwise known as the uterus. It’s where a baby grows over the course of nine months.”

“Mhm. Good job.”

He pushes his glasses up his nose, clearing his throat. “There’s more to your reproductive system than the uterus. Lots of parts. Important parts.”

“Right. But I don’t need to quiz you on it. You obviously know your stuff.”

Again, your fingers inch lower until they’re prodding at your folds. Riddle’s breath audibly hitches.

“And this?”

“Your vagina. It’s where—”

“What’s the other word?”

Riddle avoids your stare. “It sounds so vulgar…”

“So what?”

“S-So there ought to be a term that’s more…flattering.”

“Like what?” You approach him and, with the grace of a swan, lift your leg onto the desk to give him a better view of yourself. Shamelessly, you dip your fingers inside to spread yourself. “A guy called it the honeypot once. That pretty enough for you?”

Riddle squeaks and flinches back in his chair, his face now even redder than it was before. “T-That’s fine…”

“Really? I’d have thought the implication in that one is much dirtier than calling it a pussy.”

It takes him a moment to connect the dots, but once he does he gasps. “Ah. Then…”

You press inwards with your fingers, exaggerating a pornographic sigh. “Yeah?”

“Can I… M-May I call it your flower?”

“Sure.” His shoulders slacken with a flicker of relief. Your next words shatter that and his pride in one fell swoop. “That one’s not as special as you think, mama’s boy. I’ve heard it all—every type of flower you can think of.”

“Even a rose?”

“Especially a rose.” His lips twist into a disappointed moue. You chuckle and add, “You can call it a rose if you want. I don’t mind.”

Riddle meets your eyes then, searching them for the joke. When one doesn’t present itself, he relaxes. “All right. It’s a very pretty rose. Soft…”

“Aww. Thanks for saying so. It’s softer inside, y’know. See?” Spreading yourself wider, you angle your hips to bless him with the full view. “My fingers slide right in. Wanna guess why?”

“B-Because the vagina naturally—” He stops himself, his brows knitting together in contemplation. When he speaks next, it’s with a determined sort of conviction. “When you’re aroused, your rose produces a natural lubricant during sexual excitement.”

“Mhm. We call that ‘feeling good and getting wet,’ Dr. Rosehearts.”

“Yes. Y-Yes, I know that.” He eyes your pussy, a ravenous glimmer in his intelligent blue-greys. “And the wetness—it’s supposed to make it feel better. To make insertion easier, I mean.”

“Right again.” You ease your fingers out but not before thrusting them deeper just so he can hear the sinful sounds. They shimmer with your essence, enticing in a forbidden way. “What about the other parts? How about this spot here?” You brush against the hood of your clit, circling it slowly.

Riddle watches, hopelessly spellbound. “The clitoris.”

“I’m impressed. Most guys don’t know about it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But it’s your most sensitive erogenous zone! Just how uninformed does one have to be to neglect such a crucial part to your sexual anatomy?”

“Woefully uninformed, I’m afraid,” you mutter with a pout. Your fingertips drag your hood up to reveal that pretty, perky nub. “I think it’s dumb your mother wants me to talk you out of sex. You’re going to college. You’re an adult. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“I…” Riddle frowns at that last line. “I have no interest in it. Besides, it’ll only hinder my studies. If I really need it, I’ll just masturbate. That’s healthy every now and then, and it doesn’t break any rules.”

“Really? No interest at all?” You shoot him a knowing look and run your tongue along your bottom lip. “Because your dick’s telling a different story.”

Riddle sputters, embarrassed, and squeezes his thighs together. His hands fly to cover his lap. “That’s because you’re—” He gazes at the floor. “Because you’re so pretty…”

Temporarily thrown off course, you gape at him. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Gathering the remnants of your mask, you piece it together and laugh. “Not the first time I’ve heard someone describe it like that.”

“Not just your pussy.” Your gaze snaps to his. He smiles, impish. “I’m sure you know what I mean, Teacher.”

You exhale a short laugh. “Someone’s suddenly confident.”

Riddle rises from his seat. His fingers close around your wrist, gently pulling it away from your clit. He moves around the desk to stand in front of you and then, before you can comprehend his intentions, he’s pushing you down onto the desk. You yelp at the sudden change in position, your eyes blown wide when he presses his clothed hard-on against your bare pussy.

“You’re doing a poor job at dissuading me from wanting sex.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“Not in that outfit.” He grabs at the meat of your thighs and parts them. “If Mother knew you lied to her…”

You shake your head at him. “Please don’t tell her. I… I’m being serious. I need this money.”

“Desperately?”

Your lip curls into the beginning of a sneer. You hate feeling powerless more than anything, but the fiery glaze in his eyes is just as troubling. “I’m not going to beg.”

“I haven’t asked for that yet.”

You roll your eyes. “Not funny. I agreed to teach you about sex. We’re not actually doing it.”

“A shame.”

“You’ll find a nice girl at school. Don’t lose hope, mama’s boy. Lots of girls like the smart types who’ll give ’em a lecture on biology and stuff.”

“I think you misunderstand. I don’t want other girls.”

“Okay?”

“My mother’s paying for a tutor and I desire you, so unless you want to leave here as a lying cheat…” He hums, seeming awfully haughty to hold the only thing that tethers you to him above your head. “You need the money, right?”

“Yes. Sure, of course I do. But—” You shift on the desk, silently horrified when he rocks against you. “We can’t. Your mother—”

“Weren’t you the one saying I should live my life? That I have the freedom to do as I please?”

“That doesn’t mean—come on; listen to yourself. You can’t honestly think I’d fuck you.”

“No? And yet you came wearing this outfit, parading around the study with your pussy and tits out.” He glances past you at the window. “And you didn’t even bother to close the curtains… How brazen.”

Your attempt to jerk away from him is made in vain. He pins you down onto the desk, one hand squeezing your breast, while the other works to fish himself from his trousers. Now hard and leaking, his cock rests against your stomach. It’s not a terrible size. If anything, it’s perfect. Just right for your tastes.

“W-Wait! It’s not safe. You can’t—” You inhale sharply, bucking up towards his hand when he presses his thumb against your clit. Biting your lip, you fix him with a glower. “If you pay me… If you promise not to tell your mother—”

Riddle leans in close. “No one needs to know. No one but us.”

Your eyes flit about the room. With a withering sigh, you submit to his touch. “You’d better pull out in time.”

Riddle rolls his hips once and his cock drags along your folds. You hiss through your teeth at this new friction, a sinful delight more dizzying than any type of alcohol consumed in excess. “Do you want to be a mother?”

“What I want has nothing to do with you. I’m just—ooh—t-trying to survive. You wouldn’t know what that’s like, so don’t poke fun.”

Riddle hums, kneading your breast and rubbing you to the edge all at once. It’s so very obviously his first time, his zealous nature trumping any sort of experienced technique. It still does the trick, though, sending little bolts of pleasure up your spine.

“My mother wouldn’t just choose anyone. Her standards are very high.” His eyes flick to your face, drinking in your expression as it shifts with restrained bliss. “Somehow you’ve earned her approval.”

“Lying’ll do that.”

“Maybe.” His fingers replicate the motions you did earlier, though with a singular objective in mind. He’s so focused on succeeding in this endeavor that it makes him look so stiff. Under any other circumstances, you’d find it cute. “Mother always knows what’s best for me. Obviously you’ve met her criteria if she’s hired you.”

“Spoken like a true mama’s boy.” Seeing as this is now your unavoidable fate, you reach up to touch his shoulders. He jolts, his initial glare softening. You tamp down another giggle and massage up and along his arms. “Relax a little. Don’t rush so much.”

Or do. Let’s get this over with before your mother catches us.

Riddle traces two fingers along your labia. He’s quiet as he takes all of you in, and when he sinks three fingers into your gooey heat his breath catches in his throat. “Are you… D-Do you feel good?”

You reach for his unoccupied hand and guide it to your clit. Riddle understands the suggestion well enough, for he massages you slowly. Sucking in another breath, you nod at him.

“Not bad. You’re getting there.”

His neglected cock throbs at the praise, and so you wrap your fingers around it to give it the same amount of attention he’s currently giving you. Riddle grits his teeth at the contact.

“You can move your fingers. Don’t just focus on my clit.”

“Ah. Right. Of course,” he babbles dumbly, so swept up in everything that you are, so very eager to please.

You’re like a work of art pinned to his desk, a delicacy more forbidden than anything from the bakery. Sugary-sweet, adorned in skimpy ruche, you’re a temptation laid bare. Delicately, as if you might shatter, he curls his fingers to press up against your insides. Riddle watches you arch up towards him, your hand working his cock maddeningly slow and steady. It feels good—better than anything he could have ever imagined.

His eyes trail from your lips to your tits to your pussy stretched around his fingers. “Do you have any plans for this summer?”

The sudden question catches you off guard. You were expecting something related to sex, not whatever this new shred of curiosity is. Still, that doesn’t stop you from dragging him closer to the edge of ecstasy with every tug of your fist.

“Why?”

“I… I’d like to get to know you.”

“Me?”

“Of course. You’re more than a body to me.”

“How charming. I just—” You frown, unable to follow where he’s going with this. “Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Even though he says it like it’s a fact, he looks shy. “I want to know you.”

“Uh… Yeah… Okay.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not that… It’s just hard to imagine you having any girl friends.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and grinds his thumb into your clit. You bite back a whine as his fingers pump in and out of you. “Is that space open or closed?”

“You know which one.”

“You could be the one to close it.”

You meet his eyes then. For a short minute, the two of you hold each other’s stare. And then, breaking free from his hypnotic hold, you squeeze his length gently. He shudders, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“And what about you? You excited for your first year?”

“Mm, yeah,” he murmurs, rutting into your hand. His fingers spread you open, scissoring gently.

“Just make sure to take time for yourself. Have fun. Live.”

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you were at school—how’d you manage?”

“I never went.” He opens his mouth to interject, but you beat him to it. “Couldn’t afford it.”

“Oh…”

“It’s fine! I’ve got plenty of experience in other things. I don’t need school for that.”

Riddle doesn’t believe your feigned optimism for a second. “If you could’ve gone, what would you have studied?”

You release his cock from your hold and reach up to pull his glasses from his face. Gingerly, minding the fragile frames, you set them aside. You lift your index to your lips, effortlessly coy. “It’s a secret.”

Before he can protest, you tap the hand at your cunt next. Riddle’s fingers, wet and shiny, slide out with a slick squelch. “I think you can do it.”

“What?”

“Go to school and study what you want. I believe in you.”

A wooden laugh tumbles from your lips. “Thanks for the encouragement, mama’s boy.”

“I have a name, you know.”

You smile easily. “You want me to call you something else? How does ‘good boy’ sound?”

Even though he tries not to let it show, his cock betrays his reticence with a small twitch. He’s an open book. Not wanting to give you the satisfaction, he lines himself up instead. Your fingers slip down to spread yourself for him.

“S-Slowly…” you whisper, stumbling over your breath as the head of his cock presses inside. Shallow at first before more inches fill you.

Riddle heaves a shaky gasp, his eyes wide with amazement. “I… I’m inside you…”

“How’s it feel?” “Warm. Soft. Snug. R-Really good.” He bows his head and digs his fingers into your hips. You think he has a dozen more adjectives on the tip of his tongue, each one just as fluffy as the last. “D-Do you feel good? It doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m fine.” You wind your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Your hands come to rest upon his shoulders once more. “Move your hips.”

Riddle does just that. His pace is awkward and inexperienced, every motion unsteady and jerky, as he searches for the right rhythm. He falls into it surprisingly fast, and it isn’t long until he’s smoothly rutting into you. You grab at his shirt, your breath coming in reedy huffs.

“Good. You—haa—good. You’re doing good.” Praise pours from your lips like a waterfall, plentiful and refreshing. It invigorates him, fills him with a confidence that wasn’t there before.

The soft slap of skin on skin fills the room. You keep your voice in check, lest you lose yourself and alert Mrs. Rosehearts. Riddle seems to be doing the same, even though it’s obvious he’s struggling much more than you are. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress his groans.

“You can touch me,” you whisper, petting his cheek. He blinks at you, his face aflame with a bright blush.

Nervously, he reaches for you and then pauses. Contemplation passes over his features. “What feels better? I want you to—no. I will make sure you cum. I’ve studied it, actually. I know how long it takes.”

“Look at you, doing your research like a diligent student. You want extra credit?”

Riddle chuckles and pinches your clit between two fingers. The rest of your teasing tapers off into a lewd squeal. “What was that about extra credit?”

“You’re awfully bold for your first time.”

“I’m not clueless.” His hips press inwards, plastering you to the desk, and his cock brushes that special spot within—the spot that has you seeing stars, your every nerve tingling with pleasure. You choke around a delighted gasp. Riddle, feeling victorious,  places his hand against your stomach, as if searching to feel his cock thrust up inside you. “Will I see you again after this?”

“If your mother wants me to come back and give you another pointless lecture on celibacy and safe sex, sure.”

“No, not that. Outside of this.”

“Don’t you have friends you’d rather hang out with?”

“I…do.”

“So spend time with them.”

Riddle doesn’t dignify that with a retort. With the way his eyes gloss over, you wonder just how many of these friends are within physical distance. The conversation stalls out into silence.

“You’ll make lots of friends at school. So many you’ll probably forget all about me.”

Riddle yanks your hips to meet his, driving himself deeper into your pussy.

“A-And you’ll find a nice girl to love if you’re looking for that kinda thing.”

“I am,” he confesses, breathless. “I want to get married and—mmh—start a family one day… I want to study law—become a lawyer… Mother thinks medicine suits me, but I can’t agree. Law is fascinating. It’s a perfect fit for me. Far better than medicine.”

You drag your thumb over your mouth, wetting it with your lipgloss, and then press it to his lips. The indirect kiss sends a tidal wave of arousal over him, darkening the tips of his ears in striking vermillion. You offer him a gentle smile while he recovers from that devastating flirt.

“I’ll make sure to hire you as my lawyer if I ever get into legal trouble.”

“You’d better not!” He laughs and shakes his head in amused disbelief. “But if you do, I’ll be there for you. Always.”

“Thanks, Riddle.”

Maybe I judged him too harshly. He’s not so bad.

In that stuffy study, just as the late afternoon gives way to red-orange streaked across a purple-pink sky, Riddle fucks you against that desk in all manner of rhythms. It’s when he finally picks up speed that you realize he’s nearing his end. You mirror his enjoyment, strung along by titillating touches and whispered words drenched in sweetness. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve reached rapture alongside him, your pussy now brimming with cum. There’s so much it leaks out of your slick hole when he draws away, only to burrow his cock deeper to stuff it back inside.

The room reeks of sweat and sex. You think, if not your disheveled appearance, the smell will definitely tell Mrs. Rosehearts all she needs to know.

“I love you,” Riddle murmurs, and you’re about to ask him what he means—maybe he’s caught up in the moment and doesn’t realize what he’s saying—but then he lifts your legs up to fold you into a mating press. Coherent thoughts are knocked out of your head when he spills over, filling you up for the nth time that day. You shiver beneath him, eyes rolled back into your skull and tongue lolling out. You feel so stupid, fucked submissive by some inexperienced, upper middle class mama’s boy. Which isn’t even an insult with real heat to it, but in your hazy mind it’s all you can think of to describe him.

He grinds against you in the aftermath, panting from the exhilaration and adrenaline. 

“We need to…open the window,” you mutter, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

Riddle admires your fucked-out expression in his sex-drunk daze. He slides out just as he feels himself going flaccid. Cum drips onto the desk below. Briefly, you struggle to recall whether or not you took your birth control today.

Something to consider later. Definitely not right now when you’re still clinging to the vestiges of your orgasm.

— — —

Mrs. Rosehearts knocks on the door, opening it to find Riddle sitting at his desk, jotting notes and occasionally pushing his glasses up. You’re standing at the blackboard, writing a list of the consequences of unplanned pregnancies. The room smells pleasantly of roses.

“Pardon my intrusion.”

You gaze at her and smile, wearing the clothes you arrived in. Nothing’s amiss. It’s perfect—thankfully. “Welcome back, Mrs. Rosehearts. We’re just about finished here.”

“Is that right? I assume all went well?”

“Very well. Your son’s a fast learner. Extremely talented.”

“I would expect nothing less.” She withdraws an envelope and hands it to you. “Thank you again for explaining it in realistic terms. Of course I doubt that my Riddle will act senselessly while he’s away, but as his mother I’m prone to worrying. Boys his age are so easily influenced.”

“O-Of course! That’s a very valid concern.” You force a chuckle.

If only she knew.

“Your pay is in that envelope. Should I ever require your assistance again, I’ll be sure to call.”

“Right… Thank you.” You hold it close to your chest. “I’m happy to help.”

You follow her out the door. She pauses to address Riddle. “Do continue reviewing your notes. We’ll convene for dinner in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Mrs. Rosehearts walks you to the gate. “I wish you luck in your studies. If I don’t see you again at the clinic, have a pleasant summer.”

“Thank you. You as well.” You smile, fidgeting slightly. A bead of sweat tracks a path down your leg from between cum-spattered thighs.

Finally! With this I can pay my rent and still have enough for a treat from the bakery.

It’s worth it, or so you continue to tell yourself.

— — —

From the window, Riddle watches you make the walk to your car. He lifts his phone to fit you in the camera and snaps a secret photo. He continues to watch you until you’ve driven off and turned the corner, disappearing from his sight.

A tiny smile tugs at his lips.

Within his phone, put under a password lock, a special photo album exists. It’s filled with pictures taken from your social media—all of them. Every. Single. One. He’s resourceful when he wants to be. He can play the parody of a tech genius when he sets his sights on something.

And you’re just perfect.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

After 35 yrs. the owner of this fabulous 1877 Victorian in Mantua, NJ is retiring. The florist business and all the inventory comes with it (and there's a LOT- wait'll you see). Plus, the owner's apt. is upstairs. It has 3bds, 2ba. Asking $624,950. (And, I want it so baaaad.) It's also a venue for weddings, and the conservatory is used as a tea room/celebration room.

It's seriously a Victorian store. But, don't you have to learn how to be a florist? Like you have to know how to do floral arrangements, bouquets, corsages, etc. You have to know how to order, where buy from, all that stuff.

I could do the gift stuff, but I don't know about fresh flowers.

I wonder how hard it would be to convert it back- you can see the dining room entrance here.

Wow, too much stuff.

The conservatory has tables and chairs, but in this photo, it looks like it has Valentine roses ready to go.

This is the powder room for the conservatory.

More merch. Wonder what the turnover rate for this stuff is. I mean, you can keep the same stock out, but how can you buy more if you haven't sold any of this? If you rotate it, regular customers will notice.

Then, this is the workroom.

Look at all the sinks.

So, this is the little kitchenette in a corner where they make the tea and stuff for the tea room. And, those are the stairs to the apt.

And, after a long day, you climb the stairs home.

Here we are.

Comfortable living room.

Nice large kitchen. Look at the ceiling. No dishwasher? After being in the store all day, you have to come up here, cook and wash dishes, too?

Nice bath. Very pretty.

The primary bedroom has an alcove.

In the attic, there's storage.

The gardens are absolutely beautiful.

How pretty.

The wedding area.

The name of the business is Lavender & Lace.

How the house looked originally.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/130-Bridgeton-Pike-Mantua-NJ-08051/2052976688_zpid/

[uwmspeccoll]

A Pigeon-fluencer Feathursday

This week’s post was inspired by a recent Guardian article on the rise of Pigeon-influencers on TikTok and their role in reviving the popularity of the oft-derided and underestimated birds.  

Throughout history, pigeons have provided sustenance (“squab”), labor (in the form of the “pigeon post”), and companionship to human populations. Though these days we may typically associate the Rock Pigeon (Columba livia, otherwise known as the common pigeon) with other animals classified as “pests” in urban landscapes, they are in fact understood to be the world's oldest domesticated bird. Historical documentation of pigeons can be found in hieroglyphic texts and art dating back as far as ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. According to Colin Jerolmack, professor of Sociology and Environmental Studies at NYU and author of The Global Pigeon, pigeons “have been in cities as long as we’ve had cities” and, prior to the technological innovation of the telegram, were “the most reliable messaging system in the world”. While “fancy” pigeons (like Frillbacks, English Magpies, Jacobin, and Archangel pigeons) were bred and kept as prized pets in the Victorian era, the North American Passenger Pigeon (or “wild pigeon”) was hunted to the point of extinction in the early 20th century.

To illustrate the complexity of our love-hate relationship with the birds we've selected a variety of illustrations and text from our collection and featured them alongside some images from outside sources.

The engravings in images #2 & #8 from The Illustrated Natural History: Birds (London: George Routledge & Sons) were created by the Brothers Dalziel, a wood engraving shop in Victorian London founded in 1839 and operated by George and Edward Dalziel. Image #1 from Birds of America; Fifty Selections (with commentaries by Roger Tory Peterson) (New York: Macmillan) is a reproduction of a hand-colored lithograph produced by the shop of J. T. Bowen of Philadelphia from a painting by naturalist and artist John James Audubon in the early 19th century.

--Ana, Special Collections Graduate Intern

Other image sources:

#3: Western Crowned Pigeon (Goura cristata) in TMII Birdpark - Western crowned pigeon - Wikipedia

#4: Keyla Rose with Tony, her pigeon, on a walk in New York. Photograph: Alaina Demopoulos/The Guardian. August 23, 2024.

#5-6: from City Creatures: Animal Encounters in the Chicago Wilderness Pigeons (poem) by Chicago-based Puerto Rican poet and community activist David Hernandez, DH+BH (image of tattoo) by Camilo Cumpian.

#7: Ceiling Fragment Depicting Pigeons in Flight | New Kingdom | The Metropolitan Museum of Art (metmuseum.org) (ca. 1390–1352 B.C.)

#9: a Memorial to the extinct Passenger Pigeon at Wyalusing State Park in Wisconsin (1947)

#10: from Nikola Tesla's Obsession with Pigeons, Electricity, and a Plan to Wirelessly Connect the World (nautil.us)

[pxnsneverland]

Ruthless Grace | Austin Butler x OC (part 8)

(gif source: rcbertleckie)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

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

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 2770

warnings/notes: violence, blood

Chapter 8: The Predator's Dance

That night, the ball was in full swing. The grand hall of Austin's estate was transformed into a spectacle of opulence and light. Crystal chandeliers cascaded from the high ceilings, casting a shimmering glow over the dozens of elegantly dressed attendees who mingled and danced across the polished marble floor. The air was perfumed with the scent of fresh roses and lilacs, meticulously arranged in ornate vases throughout the room.

Violet, escorted by Austin, couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the grandeur of the event. She was clad in a gown of silk and lace that whispered against her skin with every step, its hues of deep violet making her feel part of the aristocratic tapestry around her. Yet, amidst the laughter and music, she caught the occasional glance—curious or calculating—from some of the guests, reminding her that she was an outsider in this glittering world. As they moved through the crowd, Austin's hand rested lightly on the small of her back, a subtle gesture that both comforted and claimed. Violet felt every eye upon them; the weight of scrutiny was palpable. Each smile that was directed their way held an edge, a shadow of something not quite revealed, and she clung to Austin’s presence like a lifeline.

The music swelled, a classical piece that filled the room with its commanding beauty. Austin leaned down, his voice barely above a whisper amidst the din of conversation. "Would you care to dance?" he asked, his eyes never leaving hers.

Violet hesitated for only a moment before nodding. As they stepped onto the dance floor, she found herself drawn into a world where only they existed. Austin’s movements were graceful and sure, his familiarity with the dance evident as he led them effortlessly. The feel of his hand in hers, the firmness of his grip on her waist, it all felt dangerously exhilarating.

As they danced, Violet noticed the way others watched Austin—a mixture of respect and unease that intrigued her. He was clearly a man of power and mystery here, just as he was outside this grand hall. Yet as he danced with her, there was a tenderness and attentiveness that seemed at odds with the formidable figure others saw.

Just as Violet was beginning to lose herself in the rhythm of the dance and the assurance of Austin's embrace, a sudden interruption came. A tall, dark-haired stranger stepped smoothly into their dance circle. With a polite yet firm tone, he addressed Austin, "May I cut in?" His piercing eyes locked onto Violet's with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

Austin's grip tightened momentarily, a slight narrowing of his eyes betraying his reluctance. “Phillip, I didn’t expect you to answer my invitation.”

Phillip's smile was thin, almost predatory as he assessed the situation. "Yet, here I am," he replied smoothly. His gaze shifted back to Violet, taking in her appearance with an appreciative eye that made her skin crawl slightly. "It would be a shame not to take the opportunity to dance with such a charming guest."

Violet felt Austin's reluctance through his tightening hold, sensing the tension that surged between the two men. It was clear there was a history there, one fraught with as much competitiveness as careful politeness. But Austin’s voice retained its composure as he responded, his hands still firmly holding Violet. “There are plenty of women here probably more eager to keep you company this evening.”

Phillip chuckled, his gaze never wavering from Violet's. "Perhaps, but I find myself particularly intrigued by—I’m sorry, love, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Violet Everly,” she greeted her gaze moving between Austin and Phillip.

Phillip, despite Austin still holding onto Violet, took her hand and kiss it. His lips lingered almost as if he was savoring something. “Phillip Mormont. A pleasure.”

Violet’s heart raced at the contact, unease curling in her stomach. The touch was far too intimate, too knowing. She withdrew her hand as politely as she could, instinctively moving closer to Austin.

Austin’s voice was a low growl, audible only to Violet and Phillip. “She’s under my protection, Mormont.” It was a clear warning, one that seemed to amuse Phillip even more.

“Oh, come now, Butler,” Phillip replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “We’re all civilized here, aren’t we? I merely wish to share a dance with the lady.”

Violet looked up at Austin, seeking reassurance in his icy blue gaze. There was a storm there, barely held at bay. He nodded slightly, granting permission but never releasing her completely. Reluctantly, she allowed herself to be led away by Phillip into the swirling throng of dancers.

Phillip was an excellent dancer, his movements smooth and assured. Yet there was an underlying tension that Violet couldn’t ignore. His hand on her waist held her a little too tightly, his smile a little too sharp. “You are quite the mystery, Miss Everly,” he murmured as they moved across the floor. “A delicate flower among thorns.”

Violet managed a polite smile, though her mind raced with anxiety. “And you, Mr. Mormont, seem quite at home among those thorns.”

Phillip chuckled darkly. “One must adapt to survive in environments such as these.” His eyes scanned the room, never truly focusing on her. “Tell me, what is your impression of our host? He’s quite a character, isn’t he?”

Violet glanced briefly towards where Austin stood, his gaze fixed on them, an unspoken intensity in his eyes. She chose her words carefully, aware that every phrase might be analyzed for deeper meaning. “Lord Butler is... complex.”

Phillip’s eyes twinkled with a mix of amusement and something darker. “Ah, very diplomatically put, Miss Everly. Austin has many layers indeed. Some darker than others.” His tone suggested a deeper knowledge of Austin’s secrets, hinting at shared histories Violet could only guess at.

As the dance continued, Violet felt increasingly uneasy. Phillip’s presence was commanding, yet there was a coldness to him that made her long for the safety of Austin’s arms. His casual references to darkness and hidden depths seemed like veiled threats or perhaps clues meant to unset him.

Finally, the music began to slow, the song reaching its end. Violet had never felt more relieved to see a dance conclude. Phillip seized the opportunity as the last notes lingered in the air. He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper against the music's fading echo. "Miss Everly, might I steal you away for a moment? There's something on the balcony I believe you would find most intriguing."

Violet hesitated, her eyes instinctively seeking Austin in the crowd. The intensity of his gaze had not waned; if anything, it sharpened, slicing through the sea of bodies that separated them. Despite Phillip's charming smile, a shiver traced the length of her spine. She knew she ought to decline, to return to Austin's side where an unspoken promise of safety lay. However, curiosity and a reckless streak of defiance nudged her forward.

"Very well, Mr. Mormont," she replied, her voice steady though her heart was not. "But only for a moment."

Phillip's smile widened as he offered his arm, which she took with reluctant grace. As they navigated through the throng of revelers, Violet felt every pair of eyes on them—judging, calculating. The cool night air brushed against her skin as Phillip guided her through an ornate set of French doors onto the secluded balcony.

The balcony itself was draped in shadows and moonlight, overlooking an expanse of restless gardens where shadows danced between the whispering trees. The air was fragrant with late blooms of jasmine and a hint of something darker, like earth freshly turned.

Phillip leaned against the balustrade, his eyes capturing the moonlight and reflecting it like some predatory nocturnal creature. He watched her closely, a smirk playing on his lips as he traced the line of her jaw with his gaze. "This view is one of my favorites. The way the moonlight plays with the darkness, it's almost as if the night whispers secrets just for us," he murmured, his voice smooth and enticing.

Violet felt an uneasy tremor in her heart at his words. His proximity was unsettling, and she was acutely aware of how isolated they were on this shadow-draped balcony. Despite the beauty of the scene before her, Violet couldn’t shake off the feeling of being a bird lured into a snare.

Phillip turned to face her fully, stepping closer than social decorum would dictate. "You know, Miss Everly," he began, his voice low and beguiling, "there is much about Austin Butler that remains shrouded in mystery. Even someone as close as I am can never be too sure where his allegiances lie."

Violet’s breath hitched slightly, caught off guard by his forwardness and the underlying threat in his tone. Her instincts screamed that Phillip was playing a dangerous game—one that involved her as an unwitting pawn between two powerful adversaries.

"And where do your allegiances lie, Mr. Mormont?" Violet asked, trying to mask her unease with a tone of casual inquiry.

"Oh, my dear," Phillip chuckled lightly, his eyes glinting with unspoken knowledge. "My allegiances are flexible and often align with... shall we say, the most intriguing opportunities. Just as I find you, Miss Everly, exceedingly intriguing." His gaze bore into her with an intensity that belied his casual words.

Violet felt the chill of unease snake down her spine as Phillip's presence loomed closer. She was acutely aware of how removed they were from the safety and watchful eyes inside the ballroom. The glint in Phillip's eyes turned sharper, like that of a hawk eyeing its prey, his interest palpable and unsettling. Violet could feel each word he uttered woven with dark threads meant to ensnare her thoughts and fears. She struggled internally, her desire to flee clashing with her growing curiosity about Austin and the dark web she found herself caught within.

Phillip moved a step closer, eliminating any remnant space that might have suggested propriety. His hand brushed against hers, an accidental touch that sent a jolt through her body. "You see, Violet," he said softly, using her first name in a manner too intimate for their acquaintance. His fingers encircled her wrist moving it up to his lips. He sniffed deeply, his mouth watering slightly. “Austin holds so much restraint. Restraint many of us don’t have.”

Violet tried to pull away, but his grip as like iron. “Release me, Mr. Mormont.”

Her voice trembled with a mixture of fear and defiance, but Phillip only smiled—a chilling expression that didn't reach the coldness in his eyes. "Oh, I think not, Violet. Not until I have discovered just what it is about you that so captivates Lord Butler."

With a swift movement, Phillip spun her so her back was against the stone railing, her escape routes effectively blocked by his imposing figure. The moon above bathed the scene in an eerie silver light, casting long, dark shadows across the balcony that seemed to dance like specters in the corner of Violet's eye.

"I believe it’s time you and I had a more... profound connection," Phillip whispered, his breath caressing her cheek as he leaned closer. Violet's heart pounded in her chest, each beat resonating with an urgent plea to flee. Yet physically overwhelmed and emotionally outmatched, she found herself paralyzed under his mesmerizing gaze.

His fingers tightened around her wrist, his other hand gently but firmly holding her chin, forcing her to meet his piercing gaze. "Shh," he hushed, as if comforting a child, though his eyes gleamed with predatory anticipation.

With a sudden pang of horror, Violet felt the sharp prick of Phillip’s teeth against her wrist. The pain was sharp and immediate, and she gasped out loud—a desperate sound muffled by the night air. His lips locked around the bite, drinking deeply in slow, deliberate pulls that made Violet’s head spin. The world tilted on its axis; the edges of her vision grew dim as an icy chill spread through her veins.

Phillip continued to drink greedily, lost in the pleasure of the moment, his grip unyielding. Violet's struggles weakened as her energy waned, her thoughts becoming foggy and disjointed. The faint sound of footsteps echoed from behind them. Phillip pulled his mouth away from Violet, his lips smeared with crimson, his expression one of annoyance. He reluctantly released Violet, who collapsed against the railing.

Phillip straightened up, wiping his mouth nonchalantly with the back of his hand as he faced Austin. "Ah, Butler," he said coolly, his tone mocking. "Your timing is impeccable as always."

Austin's eyes blazed with a fury that seemed to ignite the very air around him, his tall, imposing figure framed against the moonlit sky like some avenging angel descended into hell. His voice, when he spoke, was calm but carried a dangerous undercurrent, "Mormont, I would advise you to choose your next actions very carefully."

Phillip turned fully, examining Austin with the casual disdain of a man who believed himself untouchable. He smirked, his dark eyes flickering between Violet and Austin. "Oh? And what would you suggest I do, Lord Butler?”

"Your quarrel is with me," Austin said icily. "Leave her out of this.”

Phillip laughed softly, a sound devoid of any true mirth. "Always the protector, aren't you, Austin? But tell me, do you protect her out of affection or are you merely guarding your possession?" Austin's jaw tightened visibly at the provocation making Phillip’s smile grow wider. “Tell me, Austin. Have you tasted her yet? She’s quite delicious. Don’t you want just one little bite?”

Austin’s eyes darted to Violet who’s wrist was still bleeding. He licked his dry lips, his hunger urging him to finish off where Phillip started. But the fear in Violet’s eyes fortified his restraint. “Take your leave, Mormont.”

Phillip's laughter echoed off the stone walls of the balcony, a chilling sound that mingled with the whispering wind. "You dictate terms as if you command the night itself," he taunted, stepping back with a theatrical bow that dripped with sarcasm. "But remember, there are things even you cannot control, Lord Butler."

As he straightened, his gaze lingered on Violet, who was trying to regain her composure, her hand pressed against the wound on her wrist. Phillip's eyes glinted dangerously. "We shall see how long your noble intentions last in this game." With those parting words, he turned and vanished into the shadows from whence he came, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

Austin moved quickly to Violet's side, his expression a mixture of concern and latent rage. He took her injured wrist gently in his hands, examining the bite marks with a furrowed brow. “Come, I shall tend to that—”

“What are you?” Violet demanded. She kept her distance from him pressing her back to the wall as if she could meld through it.

Austin paused, his blue eyes searching her face for signs of fear and anger. He sighed, a weight seemingly lifted yet immediately replaced by another, heavier burden. “I am what I must be,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Much like Phillip, but not by choice—by necessity.”

Violet's heart hammered in her chest as she absorbed his words. The world she knew seemed to crumble around her, yet there was a strange sense of revelation in understanding the enigma that was Austin Butler. “You’re a vampire,” she stated, not as a question but as an acknowledgment of the truth she had already known deep down.

Austin did not flinch at the word. Instead, he nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Yes,” he admitted, and it seemed with that single word, the distance between them lessened, if only just slightly. “I have fought against this nature all my life, striving to retain the humanity within me.”

Violet felt a chill run down her spine, not from fear but from the cold truth of her situation. She was in the presence of monsters dressed in human skins, creatures of the night that fed on the living. “Don’t touch me!” She scrambled to her feet keeping a tight grip on her bleeding wrist with her other hand.

“Violet…” Austin rose slowly keeping his distance as she requested no matter how much it pained him to see her so afraid of him.

“No! No, no! You stay away from me!” She dashed back into the manor pushing through the crowd of people at the ball. She ran up the grand staircase to her room slamming the door shut and locking it for good measure.

Stay tuned for part 9!! Click HERE to view!

Taglist: @buckysteveloki-me @imusicaddict

[ladykailitha]

Regency Nanny AU

Remember how I said that I had a new idea from all the asks I had in the last couple of days? Yeah, this is that.

Taken from the Nanny story where Steve thinks of being in charge of the household like Robin's period dramas. From this ask here.

So there are so many ways this can go, like the nanny one, but set in a non-homophobic past, omegaverse, or one that really struck me was a fusion AU of one of my favorite books (though it is Victorian, but I don't mind setting in an earlier time). It's called "The Fire Rose" by Mercedes Lackey.

Basically it's a Beauty and the Beast retelling in which the beast is a Fire magician and trying to make himself being able to change into wolf and back again at will accidentally curses himself. So he hires a nanny for fake children to get someone who can read to him from his books as being turned into a wolf man has left him with poor eye sight and paws which make it difficult to turn the pages.

She is the impoverished daughter of a scholar who was in debt up to his eyeballs and then suddenly passes away. What little money he did have went to his debts and she pretty much has two pennies to her name. So when a friend of her father comes to her with this offer to be a nanny to a girl and invalid boy out from Chicago where she is to San Fransisco to some estate owned by the rail baron father. She really doesn't have any choice but to take him up on it or starve or resort to whoring herself out.

But as most people don't know about magic he has her reading through a speaking tube that goes up through the ceiling where his room is. Which works for awhile and the only person she sees is the apprentice and no one else. Even though her food is made and brought to her room while she's asleep or gone. The apprentice is a cad and a rake and she doesn't feel comfortable around him but knows he won't doing anything not with the master of the house around.

Basically she finds out about him and magic and that she can do magic too. She's air, while he is fire. There are four elements that magicians can be masters of. Fire, air, earth, and water. Water and Fire and Air and Earth are opposites while each element would be supported by the two adjacent. Air would be supported by fire and water (think lightning and storms), Fire would be supported by air and earth (air to feed it and earth to ground it) Water would be supported by air and earth (the water cycle and of course earth to nourish and also to cut through) and last Earth would be supported by fire and water (two things vegetation need to thrive). Each element has spirits they can summon to their bidding. Fire has salamanders, air has sylphs, water has undines, and earth has gnomes.

So we would Steddify it like this. Eddie the Fire Master and Steve is the son of the impoverished scholar. Steve's father taught himself, but they were constantly on the move because his father would land a position teaching children at a big manor house and then six to eight months later they would be thrown out when his father get caught with the mistress of the house. Steve is pretty sure he has half siblings dotted all over the county side.

His father spends all their money on booze and women, leaving Steve with no real skills and being able to read and write well without an internship somewhere, will get him no where.

Then his father dies and Steve is left destitute Hopper, the only friend of his father's the old man actually kept over the years comes to Steve with the offer of being a nanny to some rich lord on the other side of the country. Steve doesn't have anything better on offer so he goes.

He's greeted by not the master of the house but the valet. A rough man named Billy Hargrove. He's well dressed but as subtle as a bull in the china shop.

He is told in a letter from the master that he was sorry to lure Steve there under false pretenses but he tried advertising for a reader and no one ever took it as serious. If this bothers Steve, Eddie would send him off to town with a purse full of serious money and transport to the nearest town which has a bustling port. He could go anywhere in the world and Eddie would not think less of him.

Steve seriously thinks about it. Live comfortably here at the manor with only the strange master he's never seen and brutish Billy or take the money and run. He decides to stay.

He learns that his taciturn master is actually just kind but badly scarred and that's why he doesn't show his face.

Billy continues to be brutish but keeps his distance for the most part.

They get supplies from the nearby city and Billy visits all the time. After few months Eddie allows Steve to go to town because he has figured out that Steve needs glasses. And sends him to town to get new clothes, glasses, and some entertainment.

There he meets Henry Creel, a rival of Eddie's who tells Steve that Eddie could be cured, Henry has the means, he just has to submit to Henry and he could be free.

Steve ignores the guy because creeeepppy as fuck.

He goes to an apothecary looking for someone to replicate the medicine he had been taking for headaches, and comes across Robin who hands him three packages. A replication of his medication, a version of what she would normally prescribe, and something that will help ease Eddie's pain, if he can get the idiot to take it.

When he comes back he meets the fire salamander affectionately named Dustin. Dustin tells him that Eddie has collapsed and needs help.

Steve is cussing out Billy for being gone, Eddie for being stupid, and himself for having dinner in town instead of at the manor because who knows how long Eddie's been lying there.

Dustin and Steve get Eddie sorted and Steve learns the truth about why he's here. Eddie is wolf from his upper chest, arms and head, and then from the knees down in digitigrade legs, much like a wolf or cat.

Steve tells him about the two people he met and Eddie scoffs. Henry is a rival Fire Master and asshole, and Robin Buckley is the most powerful earth master in the entire country.

Steve doesn't want to believe that cute, goofy little Robin is a magician, but after Eddie takes the medicine she gave Steve and he instantly improves? Yeah... a little hard to doubt after that. Eddie doesn't trust Billy. Billy became his apprentice a few years ago, but he wants all the power without all the work. And he's pretty sure Billy is doping and magic and drugs really don't mix.

They fall in love and Steve learns he can do magic too. He's a air mage. They try to find a cure while teaching Steve how to use his magic.

Henry tries to make a move against Eddie with Billy's help and Billy tries to rape Steve, and Eddie tears him apart.

Steve is shaken up by watching Eddie literally rip Billy in pieces and Eddie sends him into town to think about whether or not he wants to stay with Eddie after that.

Steve pretty much decides on the way into town that yes he still loves Eddie.

Henry kidnaps Steve and Eddie turns Dustin into a fire mere to get to Steve as fast as possible. Henry and Eddie fight and Steve helps by calling his sylphs for the first time and they nearly burn the town down with their ferocity added with Eddie's salamanders.

Robin manages to stop all of it with her earth powers but all three collapse afterward. Henry dead, the spell he had that would reverse Eddie's plight, also gone.

But once everyone recovers, Steve decides he doesn't care what Eddie looks like and they live happily ever after.

Or... just a regular regency verse lol!

[reina-petrova]

Stay ・❥・ Elejah

Elena is under Elijah's protection - whether she likes it or not.

Hidden away from Klaus within Mystic Falls, and safely under his supervision in the manor, Elena navigates the growing tension between her and Elijah, and the threat of war that looms over their heads. But after so long, she finds herself drawn to that which the supernatural denied her. Love. Passion.

↳AU where Elijah takes Elena into his custody to protect her from Klaus. There are no Salvatores in this fic.

↳Length: 19.3k words

↳Smut(Multiple orgasms, fingering, blowjobs, eating out, dirty talk, light dom/sub undertones if you squint), blood drinking, mentions of death.

・❥・

Elena was bored. That was the truth of it.

Her fingers dragged over leather bound spines, fingernails clicking softly against the ridges of the books. Proud names rose to meet her eyes as they flickered over each one, Tolstoy, Tolkien, Poe, Kant, Dickens, Christie. The books were in reverse Alphabetical order. She knew that because she'd organized them herself. First alphabetically, then reversed the order. Twice.

Her fingers paused against the well-worn copy of Wuthering Heights, and the faded gold foil of Ellis Bell written on the spine, Brontë's pseudonym. She bent her neck upwards to look up at the shelves of books towering above her, weighing her options. A book on the Russian revolution or the invention of the printing press didn't seem all too compelling. 

She sighed quietly and pinched her fingers around Wuthering Heights, pulling it free from its compatriots. How many would it be this time? The twentieth time? Thirtieth? Elena flipped the book open to the little scrap of paper she'd tucked inside the first page where she'd made a tally sheet of how often she'd read certain books. A sad little library of her own making, but it was all she could do to keep track.

"Thirty-first." She hummed to herself, raising her brows briefly. "I've outdone myself this time."

The book shut with a soft clap, and Elena raised her eyes to peer around the shelves once more, looking for a secondary option before she resigned herself to her reading chair for the rest of the afternoon. Such was the way most of her afternoons had gone for... Elena pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the date. "Three-hundred and thirty-four days."

Elena grabbed a newer version of Emma from the shelf, as she passed the A's on her way to her reading chair, and she slipped her phone back into her pocket. No new messages anyway.

She dropped the books none too gently on the intricately carved side table adjacent to her chair, and collapsed in it like all of the strength had left her bones. The literary greats forgotten, Elena gathered her legs up onto the chair, rested her temple against her fist on the arm of it, and gazed around the room.

The library was beautiful, one she'd always dreamt of having all to herself one day. Tall, imposing shelves soared almost to the top of the 50-foot ceiling, stopping only when it bent in graceful arcs above her head, with faded brass filigree decorating the wooden reliefs of fleur de lis and other designs she couldn't squint to make out. Books filled every shelf to the brim, some teetering on the edge, some in stacks horizontally, some so old the covers had nearly worn away, and some so far out of her reach she had never read them. The western wall was entirely made of glass, and it rose up to meet the very edge of the ceiling in a rounded arc in the Victorian style. She knew that because she'd flipped through a book on Victorian architecture.

Too bad it all felt less like a dream and more like a sinister version of a time loop. Elena had lived and relived the same day for the better part of eleven months, and would continue to do so as long as Elijah had anything to say about it.

Elijah Mikaelson had blown into Mystic Falls last year, just weeks after Elena had finished her senior year. Though she was aware of the existence of the supernatural in Mystic Falls, thanks to her respective witch and vampire best friends, she'd known little about the curse of her doppelgänger heritage apart from what few truthful lies Katherine had spouted. He'd taken her into his "protective custody" after she'd been informed that a psychopathic would-be hybrid wanted her blood to complete a ritual to unlock his dormant wolf half. His half-brother, Klaus. The agreement was simple; Elijah needed her for leverage, and she needed protection. 

He'd compelled Jenna and Jeremy to think she'd gone off to live on campus at university, but she persuaded him to let Caroline and Bonnie know the truth. After that, he'd taken up residence in the grandest manor he could find in Mystic Falls and filled it with books. And her.

Except, for all she knew, Klaus didn't know she existed. If he did, he didn't seem to know where she was. What Elena had thought would become a terrifying battle between two vampiric titans over her life had actually been... boring.

Even the jokes Bonnie and Caroline would make about her living her very own Beauty and the Beast story were running thin. Elijah had never been untoward. A little cold. Unyielding in his restrictions; he couldn't risk anything happening to the doppelganger. Besides, she could never even imagine Elijah making advances. He was this noble, ancient being, and she was just a regular girl. Well. Somewhat. 

Elijah was as mysterious to her as the shadowy books perched at the very top of the shelves. While he'd taken the time to explain the rules of vampiric lore, and a general idea of what his history looked like with his brother, she didn't know all that much about him as a person. The mansion was hers for exploring, though given the size of it, there were several rooms she’d never entered. One room in particular- his bedroom. In fact, she wasn’t even certain which door led to it. She did sometimes wonder what the inside of it might look like...

She imagined dark walls accented with gold moulding trim, a lavishly carved desk covered in papers and books and candles, and just off to the side of the study, a bedroom with a grand four-poster bed... with crimson silk sheets. 

Elena blinked her ridiculous reverie away, and realized she'd zoned out for so long, the sun had begun to set. The library was hushed in the cool light of the pink dusk settling over the books. It was evident she had been reading too many romances, she thought as she glanced over at Wuthering Heights, and it was starting to invade her waking thoughts too.

"Screw it." Elena pushed her legs off the chair and left the library in search of her elusive keeper.

She found him in the sitting room, fire already ablaze, and him staring into the flames, a whiskey neat cupped between his fingers. He cut an impressive figure, as usual, in his fine tailored suit and brushed back hair. The gold ring on his finger glinted sharply as he rolled the drink in his hand slowly. His silhouette was black in the roar of the fire's light, but she knew he'd heard her come in. As he turned to face her, his face became shrouded in the shadows.

"Elena." His voice was cool, measured. It sounded the same every time; she could never tell if he was pleased or annoyed to see her.

"Elijah. May I?"

She often likened their dynamic to a loveless marriage, full of things unsaid and an uncertain level of intimacy. After nearly a year, she probably didn't have to ask permission to join him in the sitting room, but his aristocratic nature and the tense dynamic between them seemed to call for it.

Elijah did not answer but gestured towards the couch in the middle of the room in a silent invitation. It was flanked by two armchairs upholstered in the same red-gold fabric. Elena chose the couch.

Elijah tore himself from the flames and poured a second whiskey in a matching crystal tumbler, handing it to Elena without really sparing a glance. He did acquiesce to join her, sitting in one of the armchairs and unbuttoning his suit jacket as he did. She'd never seen him in an untidy state, and wondered what that looked like. Elena took a sip of the whiskey; though she didn't really care for it, she felt like liquid courage could do always do her good when it came to Elijah.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" It felt transactional, she thought, though not unkind.

"Just finished reading. Thought I'd see what was new."

Elijah nodded his head, lifting one of his legs to rest his ankle against his knee. His whiskey rested on the arm of the chair, his fingers barely touching it to ensure its balance. Every movement exuded pure confidence. Elena could feel his power emanating from him; it was sometimes difficult to remember just how many centuries he'd seen and all they'd encompassed. For all intents and purposes, he was just a man, yet he carried so much with him. His eyes held it all.

"Was it Brontë again?"

Elena's brows quirked and she let out a soft laugh. She chose to believe the slight playfulness in his tone was real.

"Am I that predictable?"

"Seems you keep coming back to that one." Elijah responded, taking a small sip of the rich amber liquor.

"I suppose you return to what is familiar." Elena said. A brief silence spanned between the two of them, noting the very unfamiliar territory that Elena had found herself in. She took another swig of the whiskey, rolling it across her tongue before she let it burn down the length of her throat before settling into a warm hum in her stomach.

"I suppose that is human nature." He allowed, and Elena appreciated the small note of empathy in his voice, however quickly it disappeared. 

"If you require more books, I'll procure some for you. As well as anything else you may need." Elijah began to slowly rise from the chair, and Elena felt the connection slipping as quickly as the rest of the whiskey down his throat.

"No - I mean, thank you, but that's not what I need."

Elijah didn't pause as he walked towards the bar cart, placing his glass down onto it. Elena placed her own down on the coffee table in front of her and stood. The question burned on her tongue until it felt like she couldn't keep it in any longer.

"How much longer will this go on for, Elijah?"

Elijah's eyes met hers, and she felt a chill run through her.

"Elena." His voice was low, a warning. They had had this conversation many times, especially in the first few months of her being here. He was as tired of repeating himself as she was, with neither budging an inch.

"It's been almost a year with little word of Klaus since. I just don't see why I still have to stay here, and not in my own house. Why I can't go live a normal life under your protection." The words felt stale and practiced in her own mouth from how many times she'd said them. Yet, every time the urge for freedom reappeared - or boredom had sunk in once again, she couldn't help but hope this would be the time he'd yield to her for a change. But there was no convincing a thousand year old vampire of anything.

"I think you may be far beyond what constitutes living a normal life. Klaus may resurface at any moment, and he will come for you. It is for your safety I do this."

"Is it?" Elena challenged. Elijah raised a brow at her.

"I have no intention of allowing my brother to become a hybrid, an essentially all-powerful immortal being, Elena. If you're alluding to my dual motives, I have been transparent with you in this regard. This is a mutually beneficial situation." His head turned away from her as though he considered the matter concluded. She used her thumb and index finger to brush her hair away from her temples, sweeping it back over the crown of her head as was her habit.

Though she could have seen this coming, she didn't want the conversation to end like this. He'd disappear somewhere within the house one more, and it would take her days to build up the courage to speak to him again. She resisted the urge to pick up the drink from the table and give it a last swig. Instead, she stepped around the table and tentatively neared him, deciding to turn the conversation back towards their common cause.

"So, where is Klaus now?"

She didn't really expect an answer. Elijah preferred not to tell her in case she'd gotten any ideas, but also because his leads seemed to change with every day that passed. Klaus was a difficult man to pinpoint and an even more difficult man to predict, even for Elijah's best informants.

"My witches tell me there is word of Klaus being spotted in the south, in New Orleans. They have assured me the cloaking spell over Mystic Falls is working, but it won't hold forever."

Elena raised her brows slightly. That was more than she'd expected to hear.

"I see."

Elijah turned to face her, a slight look of amusement on his features. The fire continued to dance in the room, throwing random flashes of light and shadow across both figures. They stood for a moment at an impasse, the tension growing steadily. When Elijah spoke, his voice was as smooth as the whiskey that now clouded her senses, and Elena couldn't help but interpret his words differently than he'd intended.

"This is a waiting game, Elena. One I don't intend to lose."

・❥・

At night, she let her thoughts take over. How would this modern day vampiric "holy war" end?

Most of the options were not very appealing.

Klaus finds her and kills her.

Klaus finds her and kills her, and kills Elijah.

Klaus kills Elijah, and her.

But sometimes she allowed her imagination to get the best of her, and she would pretend that they'd won. Elijah would triumph over Klaus, and her life would no longer be forfeit as the doppelgänger. Her arrangement with Elijah would be at an end, he would presumably disappear somewhere in the world, and she could leave... and then what?

It was difficult to imagine. Since the supernatural had forced itself into her life, she couldn't possibly imagine living in a world where she wasn't aware of vampires and witches and Originals around every corner, where Klaus wasn't breathing down her neck. Where Elijah wasn't there. 

Yet, her human nature craved that which the supernatural was keeping from her. Love. A life. Elena felt herself being torn between the two worlds, and leaving one for the other frightened her. The gravity of her choices weighed heavily on her, but her human side wasn't making it easy on her. 

Whether she liked it or not, her desires came to her in her dreams, manifested before her very eyes. Visions of love, of a man protecting her as he encircled strong and safe arms around her. Sweet nothings whispered in her ear. A beautiful dance in a beautiful hall. Elena felt her heart swell in the dream, warmth emanating from her chest, down to her toes and fingertips. The glimpse into what her life could look like made her hopes soar, but at the same time, made her unsteady from their heights. How attainable would that sort of life be? Perhaps in the end, she had no choice at all, and the supernatural was as loathe to release her as she was to release it. After all, being a doppelgänger was in her blood. 

All the while, she never saw the face of the man who held her so tightly. She was visited nightly by his soft kisses and gentle touches, but none of his features became any clearer. It made her miss a man she had never met, and probably didn't exist. As the final few touches of warmth slipped away from behind her eyes, she fell into a dreamless sleep for the rest of the night. 

Dawn peeked through Elena's curtains after a long night of tossing and turning, half-realized dreams of vampires and fangs still echoing in her mind as she pushed herself up in her bed. The room was stately, with a large cherry oak canopy bed as the main fixture, and beautiful bay windows gazing down upon the gardens below. A small sitting area with cushions lined the interior of the windows. Elena had spent quite a few weeks reading in the privacy of her room before she'd mustered up the bravery to explore the house. Elijah had intimidated her more in those days, his silent and indecipherable nature unwelcoming in the grand expanse of the house. She liked to think Elijah had warmed up to her in the days since as well. Was it Brontë again?

But today, Elijah was gone again - she could feel it. The house just felt different when he wasn't around, and in the beginning, she preferred it that way, though now she noted his absence with a small level of disappointment. If someone had to be watching over her, she preferred it would be him, as opposed to the collection of vampires and witches he considered his loyal circle. They were all perfectly congenial towards her, but sworn to the same level of secrecy as Elijah insisted on keeping up. She'd tried.

Not all of them were there to protect her from Klaus, some were just there for her human needs, like breakfast. Elijah had hired a cook to keep the kitchen stocked and Elena fed, though she'd began to cook more for herself as time went on.

Breakfast done, Elena walked to the library, the most familiar room to her. None of the loyal circle bothered her here, one of the small wins she'd earned after the first few weeks.

"You can't possibly expect me to read with someone staring at me the whole time."

"You could read to him to pass the time."

That was also the first time she'd discovered Elijah had a sense of humour. It wasn't that she thought he didn't, she'd just never been in his presence long enough to determine the existence of one. Since then, she'd noticed his wry smiles and facetiousness. She liked it.

Elena closed the grand double doors to the library behind her and set to collecting her choices for the day. The flurry of romance still lingered in her chest as she thought about her dream last night, and decided to settle into the genre for the time being. Stories of noblemen asking for ladies' hands in marriage, the scandal of an unchaperoned rendezvous. It all sounded very tempting. Maybe she could throw a few vampires in there too just to keep it thematically relevant. 

There was a ladder at the very edge of the room, one specifically made for towering libraries like these, with wheels attached that rolled back and forth along the shelves. It was enormously tall, and from the looks of it, ill-used. She'd already devoured most of the romantic books near the bottom shelves, and had to venture upwards to find some new ones. 

Elena placed one foot on the first step, followed by the next. The metal felt steady enough under her weight, and she stared down at the converse on her feet to be certain of each one before she took another step. It would be ten more steps before she would even reach the shelves she hadn't read, and another twenty before she might reach anything interesting. The books were only very loosely organized by category; evidently Elijah had given up on properly classifying his books by the end of the Tudor period, and whatever previous organization system existed before had clearly been lost when the books were transported here and thrown onto any worthwhile shelf.

Her fingers commenced their familiar journey across the spines of ancient volumes, feeling leather, fabric, and even sometimes velvet beneath her touch. One shelf after another, she searched as the morning grew long. Eventually, she had a small stack of three books that seemed decent, though it had gotten her much too high on the ladder for her comfort. Solid metal though it seemed, she heard whining and creaking beneath her feet the higher she got, but chose to risk just one more step every time. 

Her limbs ached; her arms from stretching out to reach the books and pulling herself along the shelves, and holding the books she found in the crook of her elbow. Mostly, they ached from the tension she felt every time she climbed a little higher. Elena glanced down at how far away the floor suddenly seemed, but as she craned her neck upwards to look at the next shelf, she spotted one that looked particularly thematic. Aged and yellowed with time, with once finely etched lettering, she could just barely make out the title - Dracula. 

Elena felt herself pushing her body up towards the book before she could give it another thought.

Immediately, she knew she had made a mistake.

The final step she'd taken cracked in half like a brittle piece of wood. The metal had slowly began to rust away in the underneath of the higher most steps from lack of use, and from humidity rising upwards in the library.

Elena felt the world slip beneath her with a sickening pit in her stomach. The books spilled out of her hands as she desperately tried to clutch the railings of the ladder, only to have them slip just beyond her fingertips. Her cry echoed as she felt herself falling all the way down to the ground.

Except she never reached the bottom.

She heard the books she'd been carrying crash to the floor around her like giant hailstones, but instead of the cold, hard floor rushing up to break her neck, it was a strong pair of arms that caught her. Elena felt the air rush back into her lungs, her heart firmly lodged in her throat as she wrenched open her eyes to discover her fate. She found Elijah staring back at her.

"Elijah, I-"

"Elena." He said her name in that way again.

In that small instant, she decided she liked the way the first syllable seemed to linger in his mouth. She'd only noticed it this time because she was suddenly closer to his mouth - and him, than she'd ever been before.

"Uh, thank you, that could've been really bad." She murmured, a flush creeping up over her neck, her chest still rising and falling from her soft breaths.

"You're welcome." The reverberation of his voice in his chest rumbled against her, and she could feel the lean muscles of his arms around her body. Stop it. You're being ridiculous.

There was a beat where it felt as though nobody moved, but then Elijah leaned down slightly to allow her to step foot onto the ground once more. Her palms felt sweaty, a distinctly human reaction to his inhuman abilities. It felt like she would never get used to any of it.

"I thought you weren't home." She said, pushing her hair back with a soft huff as her heart began to slow its frantic pace. Her eyes noted that his suit still appeared perfectly pressed despite her landing. He was as composed as ever, in direct opposition to her. 

"It's a good thing I was." He said lightly. "I returned not long ago." 

"Oh. How did you know?"

"I heard the metal starting to give, and knew you'd managed to get yourself in trouble. I said as much when I asked Dominic to watch you in here."

"This is not a reason to reinstate him." Elena responded, a small smile on her lips. Elijah's features seemed to soften when it was like this between them.

"I'll consider it." Elijah slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers, bending his head slightly. "Though I suppose I do prefer the efficiency of ensuring that you haven't broken your spine myself." 

Elena's eyes dropped down to the books at the same time that Elijah's did. He leaned down to pick up one of them, the spine split in half and half the pages bent haphazardly from the impact. She suddenly felt embarrassed about the books she'd collected. Not to mention destroying what were probably irreplaceable copies.

As he picked up Dracula, she sighed quietly, thankful he hadn't seen the other books.  Logically, she knew they were his books, collected over centuries, but she felt shy about her latest romantic fixation. The fact that he knew Wuthering Heights as a favourite of hers was enough.

"Dracula." He hummed, flipping through a few of the pages. "I see you're doing your research." 

She half expected him to chastise her for the mess, but he simply shut it and handed to her. Elena raised her hand to take it with some surprise, and shrugged a shoulder as she bent down to pick up the other two books that fell along with her, tucking them into the crook of her elbow.

"Thought it felt appropriate." Elena mused, glancing down at the copy of Dracula. "Even if most of it isn't applicable, there could be some inspiration."

"Inspiration?" 

Elena shrugged a shoulder. "For killing Klaus."

"I see. Well, then I'll leave you to your education." He responded, skirting the topic. Their eyes met briefly once more, then he began to turn away from her. She stared at his back for a moment and felt another bad idea bubble up inside of her.

"Elijah, wait."

Elijah paused, and Elena's heart rose up inside of her throat. He slowly turned back around to face her, a questioning look on his face, but she felt her resolve crumble once his heavy gaze met hers.

"Nothing- it's nothing. Thank you again."

He inclined his head towards her and walked out of the library, leaving her to her books. 

・❥・

The next day, the ladder was replaced. Gone was the metal death trap, and in its place a supple wooden piece made of thick, reinforced slabs for steps. It almost felt soft to the touch underneath Elena's fingers. She realistically knew this was another compromise between them; she could explore the shelves and read in peace insofar as she avoided breaking her spine in the process. She wouldn't be much use to Elijah as leverage nor even to Klaus for his ritual after that. But she couldn't help but feel touched at his kind gesture.

Her books returned to her, she prepared herself for another day spent the same way as always. Her fingers flipped through the pages, head lolling on the armrest of the chair as she tucked her legs to the side and leaned the book against the back of it. Except, at some point, in the midst of the gentle intimacy of Pride and Prejudice, she'd slowly fallen asleep.

The dream started much like the last one had. A man, one with a pull so magnetic, and she, almost powerless to resist. Still, his features were a mystery to her, but she could almost feel the soft touches brushing against her hips and waist.

But then it started to take a headier turn.

His touches became more electrifying than before, more desperate against her skin. Elena's heart began to race as the vision of the two of them flashed across her mind,. Him tearing off her dress, her hands combing and tugging through his hair. Kisses as smooth and intoxicating as wine, and a specific sting of pleasure originating from between her thighs as his hands moved to part them.... 

Elena gasped as she awoke, a flush quickly colouring her cheeks as she realized what she'd been dreaming about. Oh god. This was bad. 

She shut the book that had been lying on her chest and sat up onto the chair, placing her hand against her chest as her heart began to slow down. But the desire lingered... it pooled low in her stomach, an insistent urge that seemed to taunt her. 

Without a second thought, she pulled her phone out of her pocket. She texted SOS to Caroline and Bonnie, though she had little idea as to what she was actually going to tell them. All she knew was that something was starting to consume her. 

・❥・

They came quickly and without issue; the vampires that watched the house while Elijah was away knew Bonnie and Caroline well enough to allow them in without asking too many questions. They directed them to the library where Elena had lingered, awaiting the arrival of her friends. The romance books were stacked on the furthest corner of the table. 

"Where'd Dominic go? He was cute." Caroline pouted as she entered the library, her eyes scanning the library. Bonnie followed suit, and Elena quietly shut the doors behind the three of them. The walls weren't soundproofed, but most of the vampire guard left her well enough alone, not finding her interesting enough to spy on beyond being the doppelgänger.

Elena let out a soft snort. "Elijah made him leave at my request."

"Ohh." Caroline kissed her teeth in an impressed way with a smirk on her glossy lips. "So he listens to you now. How domestic." She tilted her head in her usual fashion, platinum curls swaying.

"Playing house with an Original is certainly one way to go about all of this." Bonnie chimed in, brows raised.

Bonnie and Caroline weren't shy about their suspicions of Elijah; Bonnie less so. Caroline's was sort of mixed with admiration for his jawline. 

"It could be worse, and we are actively trying to avoid that." Elena combed her fingers through her hair again, leading the two of them through to her usual reading spot. Caroline collapsed into a neighbouring chair and Bonnie absentmindedly flipped through the copy of Pride and Prejudice that Elena had left on the table. Elena resisted the urge to wince.

"The one where you're sacrificed in some freaky hybrid ritual? Yeah, guess so." Caroline hummed.

“Until then, I play house with an Original.” Elena sighed quietly.  

"How much longer is this going to go on for, anyway? It's been what, a year?" Bonnie asked. Elena could feel her protectiveness coming through as her best friend, but also her deep disdain for the Originals as a witch. She'd never been onboard with the idea, but had left Elena to her own choices, especially if it meant keeping her safe.

"Yeah. I don't know," Elena sighed quietly. "He has a lead, but it's not enough. Sometimes it feels like he wants this war to happen, but like he doesn't really want to kill Klaus. He said it's a waiting game."

"Then maybe he doesn't want you to leave." Caroline said bluntly. She shifted around in the chair, placing her elbow on the arm of it to run her fingers through her blonde curls. 

Elena's eyes flickered up to Caroline's in confusion. "What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is maybe he doesn't want you to leave, Elena. He called it a waiting game because if he kills Klaus, there won't be a reason for you to stay here anymore." Elena shook her head at Caroline's words. 

"That's ridiculous. Neither of us want to be in this situation, it's just an arrangement we both benefit from." 

"As long as you're still benefiting from it too, not just him." Bonnie added, closing the book she was flipping through and returning it back onto the table. The tone of the room seemed to shift into a more serious air, but Bonnie thankfully shifted it back. Elena wanted to focus on a problem she could actually potentially solve. Klaus and Elijah would have to wait. 

"So, why the SOS? You seemed freaked." Bonnie asked.  Elena cleared her throat, absentmindedly combing her fingers through her hair. How would she even begin to explain this horrendously personal issue?

“I just…” Elena released a small sigh. “I’ve just been having a bit of a hard time lately.” 

Bonnie nodded in a sage, obvious way. “Yeah, Elena- someone’s trying to ki-“

“Not that.” She interrupted. 

Bonnie glanced at Caroline with an odd look, but Caroline's discerning gaze never left hers. It silently spurred her to continue. Having her romantic dreams was one thing, but talking about it?

Okay, it's Bonnie and Caroline. They won't judge.

“I’ve been having a hard time because I’ve been having a lot of dreams lately…” The pair of them watched her without moving. “And they’ve been pretty, uh - romantic? In nature?” 

A knowing smirk crossed across Caroline’s lips. “You mean sexy dreams, don’t you, Elena?”

Elena’s closed her eyes in silent defeat, pressed her lips into a thin line and gave a quick nod. 

“Wait, about Elijah?” Bonnie asked in surprise. 

“No- no,” Elena hoped they didn’t notice how quickly she’d responded. “There’s never a face in the dreams. It’s just a man.” 

“Wow, Elena,” Bonnie grinned. “Is that it? You had us scared.” 

“You’re basically in heat,” Caroline giggled. 

Elena pressed her fingers against her forehead, wondering if this was a mistake. “I'd really rather not call it that but... because of the nature of my situation here, it's kind of difficult for me to do anything - practical about it. So... what do I do about it?” 

“Well, isn’t it kinda obvious? You just need to get some.” Caroline’s nimble fingers disappeared into her jeans and she pulled out her phone, typing away. Elena was almost afraid to ask. “I can totally set you up with someone. No strings, just sex. I know just the guy.” 

Caroline flipped her phone around to hold up a picture of a young guy. Athletic, brown hair, charming smile. He was cute. The angle of the photo sort of reminded her of-

“Who's this?" Elena nodded towards the photo on the phone.  

“His name’s Noah. Friend of a friend’s roommate, so not a total rando, but anonymous enough. Let me get his number from my friend.” 

Caroline’s fingers quickly returned to typing and suddenly the plan was forming right before Elena’s eyes. Her friends were certainly efficient.

Though, as she took a moment to think about it - she wasn’t entirely certain if she could be the type to do this, to meet up with a random guy just for sex.

“There’s only one problem.” Bonnie interjected. “How is she going to meet him? I doubt Elijah will let her leave the house for a date with some guy, and inviting him here just so Elena can sleep with him would be-“

“Weird.” Elena finished. “Very weird.” 

Caroline thought for a moment, typed a few more things in her phone, and nodded to herself in satisfaction. “We’ll just have to make it a little more organic. Like a founder’s party!” 

“A founder’s party is more organic?” Bonnie smirked. “That’s like, a huge event with a ton of people.”

“Yeah, and there’s no guarantee Elijah will let me leave for that either.” Elena added. 

“He won’t have to,” Caroline’s enthusiasm was enough to make her blonde curls bounce around her shoulders. Her optimism was as endearing as it was contagious. “We’ll have it here!” 

“Here?” Elena and Bonnie both chimed in. 

“Uh-huh. I’m head of Mayor Lockwood’s party planning committee for the summer. It's a masquerade theme. No one will know who you are, or who you're meeting with. I can totally convince her to have it here." 

“And by convince, you mean…?” Elena trailed off, narrowing her eyes with a suspicious smile.  

“With my awesome powers of persuasion, of course." Caroline said with a light laugh, though her eyes didn't stray from her phone for long. Elena knew the logistics were already flying through her head. 

"And Elijah?" Elena added. "I'm not sure he'll be all that thrilled with this idea."

"That's your job, you'll just have to convince him. Not even Originals are resistant to doppelgänger charms. We kind of have centuries of proof of that." She added wryly.  

“But, Care, isn’t this a lot of trouble just to get me-”

“Laid?” Bonnie offered helpfully. The three girls giggled, but a flush crept up on Elena's cheeks. 

“Yeah, exactly. And what if we don’t even hit it off?”

“Oh, come on, Elena." Caroline placed her phone down to raise her hands, lying them flat with palms raised to the ceiling. She made pointed eye contact with Elena, raising her thin brows. "Girl likes boy, boy likes girl - sex.” She clapped them together for dramatic effect.  

“Profound.” Elena teased, rolling her eyes. As the idea settled over her, she did wonder if the had a point... "But... I guess you're right. I've been so bored here, I could use a little drama again."

"Eek! I'll get right on it. Come on, Bonnie, I'm going to need all the help I can get." Bonnie shot Elena a playfully sorrowful look at being wrapped up in Caroline's committee plans once more as she was dragged out of the library. 

・❥・

Two days passed without incident. Elijah was gone, likely following more Klaus leads, and Elena had the run of the house on her own. Bonnie and Caroline texted her constantly with updates about the party. Caroline had even managed to get Noah's number, and promised Elena he'd text her. 

Elena sat in the very gardens the library looked out onto under the shade of a willow tree. It drooped all around her like a canopy, shading her and protecting her under its heavy branches. She leaned against the trunk of it, with her legs crossed in the lush grass. Her diary rested against her left forearm, fingers bent over the top of the pages as she wrote.

Day 338.

Dear Diary -

Her pen hovered over the page. Words seem to hang in the precipice, but...

Nothing came.

Elena groaned to herself, flicking the pen between her fingers as she stared out at the gardens. The sun was at its apex above her, bathing everything in a hazy warmth of a summer's day. 

She squinted against the light, listening to the rustling of the trees around her. In her periphery, she saw one of the guard vampires keeping an eye on her. She chose to ignore him, looking back down at the blank lined pages of her diary.

How could she express anything when she wasn't even sure what she was feeling herself?

The reality of her situation wasn't particularly easy to ignore; a supernatural entity in her own right, a lamb to be sacrificed on the altar of Klaus' ambitions, and the pawn of his half-brother's leverage. 

In the beginning, it all seemed simple enough; his protection in exchange for her cooperation, but as the months passed, it became very clear that it wasn't simple; Elijah's power and unflinching ability to kill was always in the back of her mind even in the brief, civil conversations they shared. The only factor that allowed any trust to grow on her behalf was her knowing that her life was their common interest.

Elijah's eyes flashed in her mind. The way he'd looked at her in the library just before he walked away. That discerning look that both unsettled and invigorated her. The feeling of his arms around her when she'd fallen from the ladder, and how relieved she felt the moment she'd realized it was he who had caught her.

But then she remembered the way he'd shut down the conversation earlier in the week in the sitting room, the way he'd refused to listen to her at so many turns. Elena clenched her jaw at the memory. If the supernatural world had taught her anything, it was that naivety would get you killed. Elena sought to see the good in everyone, but she knew if it benefited him, Elijah would be just as likely to kill her as Klaus was. She couldn't let herself forget that. 

Elena's phone buzzed on the grass next to her, the screen lighting up to show a new text message.

[Unknown: 4:45pm] - Hey, is this Elena?

[Elena: 4:46pm] - It is - is this Noah?

[Unknown: 4:46pm] - The very same. 

Elena quickly changed the contact info in her phone, somewhat impressed at how quickly he was texting her back.

[Noah: 4:47pm] - Caroline said I could text you, hope that's okay. I've heard a lot about you.

Elena smirked. Caroline was nothing if not quick.

[Elena: 4:47pm] -  And it's all true. 

[Noah: 4:47pm] - I hope so. 

[Noah: 4:47pm] - But I aim to find out for myself. 

Elena bit her lip to stop the small smile. Cute, and he knew how to flirt. Maybe this was a good idea after all. She found herself typing something a little more forward than she usually would.

[Elena: 4:49pm] - Well, there's this masquerade... Maybe we'll see who finds who first. 

Elena's eyes watched the screen, but the typing bubbles flickered and disappeared on Noah's side and did not return. Was that too much? The buzz of excitement began to wear off and she suddenly felt a bit ridiculous about the whole thing. Replacing the phone back onto the grass, she picked up her journal and decided to focus on the task at hand. Noah could wait. 

As she pressed pen to paper again, her thoughts threatened to stray back...

Like a dream materialized, a figure clad in a black suit emerged in the distance. Elena's squinted gaze stared as the man neared her, and she quickly realized it was Elijah walking towards her. She stuck her fingers in her diary and shut it closed, pushing herself up off the ground, phone forgotten on the ground. Despite the summery warmth, he was dressed in his usual attire; a grey-black suit made of an expensive looking fabric, a pressed black shirt underneath, with a supple silk tie at his throat. Elena always felt incredibly underdressed in his presence, and this time was no exception.

"Elena."

Elena smiled a bit at the familiar sound of her name coming from his lips, though the tone remained distant. He stepped underneath the willow, and the cool shadows enveloped him along with her.

"Elijah." She returned politely.

"You weren't in the library. I thought I might find you here." He noted, then nodded down at the diary in her hands. "Are you trying your hand at writing one of your own?"

"I used to want to be a writer." She admitted, glancing down at her diary shyly.

"Used to?" He asked, his hands slipping into the pockets of his trousers. The wind blew at his hair gently, and small pockets of sunlight escaped between the willow branches to illuminate his face. His features were beautiful, she decided. Chiseled, timeless. An enticing lure, tempting countless victims over centuries. Elena swallowed.

"A lot's changed." She said, her voice shaking slightly. She cleared it quietly. "I'm not sure what I want anymore." Talking to him sometimes it felt as though she were voicing the most intimate thoughts possible, even though the conversation was innocuous enough. Everything felt like it had a secret dual meaning that neither of them admitted to.

Elijah nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. Did he know about her own internal battle? For a brief moment, she thought they flickered down to her lips, but then his gaze dropped down to the ground. Elena's fell to her shoes.

"I hope you find what it is you want, Elena."

"Thank you."

Elena's gaze returned to him, but for a beat, his did not. She saw a muscle work in his jaw, then he straightened his neck and regarded her. His eyes seemed to cool slightly, as though he remembered he'd come for a reason.

"It is as I suspected. Klaus is creating an army of followers that are hoping to become one of his hybrids, and it's growing. It is evident he's preparing for conquest, and he'll start leaving a bloody trail all over the country until he finds the town the doppelgänger is located in." She watched something unreadable flicker in his eyes, and she swallowed at the news.

"I've been amassing my own strength in preparation for this. There is still yet time, my sources say he is not prepared to mobilize, and there is further information to suggest he has not yet targeted Mystic Falls. The witches' cloaking spell is holding, and I have found others to join them."

Elena nodded at the information, fingers fidgeting with the diary in her hands. Her fingers suddenly felt sweaty against the leather bound cover, and she lifted it to tuck underneath her arm, pressing it against her chest. The gravity of the battle between brothers was beginning to weigh on her, and now talk of an actual war over her blood. It was evident the information was concerning enough that he'd elected to share it with her without her prompting; it had never happened before. Though it felt like a further assurance of their growing trust, she couldn't ignore the fear that grew in her chest at this newfound knowledge. He was coming for her.

"Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome, Elena." It looked like he wanted to say more, perhaps considered some words of assurance or kindness, but the silence grew, and the moment was lost.

Elijah lowered his head in his gallant way, and slowly turned away from her. Elena pressed her back against the trunk of the tree again, ready to sink back into her thoughts, until she noticed him pausing, then turning back around again. He removed his right hand from his pocket, and pressed the side of his index finger against his lips as if in thought. When his eyes found hers again, she felt something unknown twinge deep inside her chest.

"One more thing. Will you join me for dinner tomorrow evening?"

Elena's mouth parted in surprise. Caroline's voice rang in her mind. So domestic.

"Oh- yes. I will."

"I'll see you at seven then."

With that, he left. Once he was out of sight, Elena's back slid roughly down against the trunk until she reached the grassy floor. The information about Klaus, then the dinner invitation - it was enough to give her whiplash. She glanced down at her phone, and when she pressed the screen, a new text from Noah popped up.

[Noah: 4:59pm] - You're on ;) 

Her diary was still pressed to her body, and she pulled it out to the page she'd been writing in.

Dear Diary - for the first time in months, it looks like I have dinner plans.

・❥・

The next evening, as the grandfather clock tolled 7 o'clock, the dining room had been transformed. The table was precisely and immaculately set with delicate white porcelain tableware that seemed to glow under the soft light of the candles next to them. The small flames flickered haphazardly in tandem with the fire that roared from the fireplace across the room. The warmth that grew from the fires enveloped the room in a sultry embrace, and the dimness even more so. Crisp crimson napkins were folded on either of their silver cutlery which winked against the settings on the dark wood of the table.

Elena emerged from the darkness of the hallways into the light. She'd opted for a nice dress instead of her usual go-to of a long sleeve henley and jeans, though she knew that anything she would wear, Elijah would upstage her. The navy dress hugged her waist and hips with delicate layers of chiffon that glittered in a subtle way, with a straight neckline and two thing straps. In the candlelight, it caught every minute sparkle. It was the nicest thing she'd brought with her, and therefore the only option for the evening. She'd left her hair untouched, but took care to wash it and oil the ends so it shined.

In truth, she didn't know what she was doing here.

She'd agreed to have dinner with Elijah Mikaelson, and taken care to look nice for it, but to what end? What had possessed her to agree? What had possessed him to offer?

Elena's certainty seemed to fade in his very presence, and with Bonnie and Caroline's plan swirling in the back of her mind, she found it all the more difficult to maintain it once she saw him standing there, hand placed on the back of one of the chairs.

His eyes seemed appreciative of what he saw, and she couldn't help but feel a flutter in her stomach.

"Elijah." She started the volley this time, the heels of her sandals clicking against the hardwood floors as she approached the dinner table.

"Elena."

For the first time, she saw what looked to be an actual smile flicker on his lips. His hand fell from the back of his chair to pull out the one adjacent, and Elena followed, quietly thanking him as she sat down in the chair.

"Wine?"

Elena nodded, and Elijah swiftly removed the cork of a likely decades-old bottle of red wine to pour into her wine glass. Not a single crimson drop spilled. He poured it into his own as well, and settled down into his chair. She reached for her wine glass and sipped at the vintage. It was divine.

"Thank you for joining me." Elijah said, his voice soft. The dinner felt royal in its ornamentations, but the company was intimate.

"And the occasion?" She asked as she placed the glass back down on the table.

"I felt I have perhaps been remiss in my welcome when you first arrived."

"Kind of a belated welcome by now." Elena laughed softly, and Elijah chuckled.

"I still sometimes forget that time passes differently for humans. I suppose it's better late than never, don't you agree?"

Elena nodded, the Founder's Party plan lingering in the back of her mind. Perhaps if things continued to go well, she could convince him after all.

Their conversation was interrupted by the first course coming in, and the food was so sublime Elena found it difficult to turn her attention. to anything else for most of the dinner. Course after course came, until dessert was placed in front of her. The conversation had been light, never straying far from niceties and light topics. At one point, Elena looked up from her dinner to find Elijah looking at her with an untraceable gaze, and she had to reach for her wine just to settle the jolt in her stomach.

Once the dessert had been consumed, she felt properly satisfied.

Elena pushed her finished plate away, and picked up her glass, the last of the wine disappearing between her lips. She felt it seer through her stomach, a warm, lively feeling. Sitting there with Elijah, drinking, talking... it felt much the same. Natural.

Elijah cleared his throat quietly.

"Elena, I... I also wanted to apologize for my behaviour the other day, and perhaps for the last few months. It was dishonourable of me. Perhaps we can come to a better understanding of each other."

"Oh. Thank you, Elijah." Elena smiled. Elijah returned it, collecting the napkin from his lap and placing it onto the table. This is as good a time as any, she thought to herself, biting the inside of her cheek. He seemed to be amenable today. "To be honest, I thought this was a good opportunity to ask something of you as well. Perhaps if you agree, we can call it even."

Elijah titled his head towards her in curiosity. "Yes?"

Elena felt her fingers fumbling slightly beneath the table. 

"Well, over the last few months, I've felt rather restricted, so in the spirit of better understanding each other, I think some fun would be good for me. So, Caroline, Bonnie and I want to host this year's Founder's Party here. It's a masquerade."

A quiet laugh escaped Elijah's lips. "You'd like to host it here?"

"Yes. That way, I get a night of normalcy and fun, and I'd still be under your protection. The guard can come too." 

"The guard?" He asked.

"It's what I call Dominic and the other bodyguard vampires."

"I see." His lips pressed into a thin line, fingers tapping absentmindedly on the table. "I suppose logistically, there would be some discussions to be had, but..."

"But?" Elena prompted with a small mile.

"Very well. Have your party."

"Thank you, Elijah."

"Regretfully, I will not be attending, but I believe you can play the hostess for both of us."

Elena's face fell slightly, but nodded. "More Klaus news?"

"In a way."

Elena didn't prompt any further, and Elijah did not offer any more answers, as was typical. She felt frustration begin to bubble up in her chest, and found her mouth moving before she could think about what she was saying.

"I understand there is a lot at stake..."

There was a silence for a beat, then another. Elena felt his eyes on her, gauging her next words, as she trailed off. He knew she had something else on her mind, and she couldn't stop now.

"But?" He prompted, raising a brow. His elbows were on the table, fingers interlaced in front of his chin.

Elena opened her mouth to speak just as someone entered the room. A few of the vampires began collecting the empty plates that were left. She paused, each of them thanking them for their assistance until Elijah signalled that they should not be further disturbed. The doors to the dining room were shut, and the room suddenly felt stifling. Elena shifted in her chair, but set her jaw in determination.

"But," She began again, meeting his eyes. "Does there have to be?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if... we did somehow find a way to kill Klaus? Only Klaus." She remembered her briefly mentioning it in the library and how he'd immediately shut the conversation down.

"Elena." Her eyes flickered up to meet his, and she recognized it wasn't anger in his eyes. He was imploring her. "Don't do this."

"But Elijah, it's possible we haven't explored every possible avenue. Now you're both creating these armies. No one else in this war needs to die. If we were able to somehow get him isolated-"

"And how do you suppose we would do that?" Elijah stood from his place at the table slowly, then reached for the back of her chair. He stood just at the corner of her leftmost periphery, and she felt her heart begin race. Despite any bravado she might put on, she was simply the prey to the predator.

Too distracted to answer his initial question, he continued.

"How would you, a human girl, expect to kill Klaus? Do you have any idea of what he would do to you if he finally captured you?" Elijah placed his hand on the left armrest of her chair, hovering just over her left shoulder. She turned her head to look up at him, struck by how close he was getting to her.

"Not counting the ritual, of course. We know that he plans to do then. What I mean is everything that would happen before. All that built-up rage at my family, at all the time he's lost, and the hate that has been brewing towards Katerina at taking his chance away five hundred years ago. What do you think will happen once he sees your pretty face? The same one that has evaded him for so long?"

Elijah's hand slowly reached out, his fingers delicately raising her chin so that she met his eyes fully. Elena swallowed, but willed her eyes to stay trained on him. Despite his frightening words, all she could feel was the heat of his touch on her skin. Was it the wine? Was it her adrenaline? Or was it simply Elijah?

"Answer me."

Elena took a breath into her lungs and held it. His fingers didn't drop from her face, his thumb even beginning to trace over her chin delicately.

"I don't know." She admitted. "Terrible things."

"You could only hope for terrible things, Elena. There is nothing Niklaus is not capable of."

"And what about what I'm capable of?" She returned, steeling her gaze the way she'd seen him do against her so many times. "Perhaps the idea of sitting still for months is losing its charm, Elijah. Perhaps it's simply less appealing than dying trying."

Elijah's hand fell from her face, and she felt herself gaining traction. He stepped back towards his own chair, facing the fires once more.

"If I'm going to die anyway, I will always choose to die trying to save the people I love, and in the process, I might regain some of my life that I have lost this past year."

“I’m the reason you still have your life at all.” He reminded her coldly, turning around to face her. She stepped away from the table and towards him, though his face was once again shadowy with the flames at his back. The moments when he looked at her like this, it frightened her the most. Like he could just shut his humanity off instantly. She swallowed before she spoke, the words desperate to escape her lips. 

“Yes, you are. You took me in and kept me here for my safety, and every day, like a little bird, I sing my thanks for you in my gilded cage. I read books, I plant flowers, I sit and I wait, day after day. I need a life again. I need… to feel again. To feel like I can do things, Elijah, things that fulfill my mind and- ” And my body.

She paused, refusing to say those two words. He looked at her expectantly as if he knew she'd ended the sentence prematurely. 

“And… I want to feel passion before my last days come for me. Another cage that I’ll die in.”

“Elena,” This time, her name sounded strained in his mouth, like it was pulled from somewhere deep in his chest.

“If all you’re going to tell me is that this is necessary, I don’t really want to hear it. All I hear is more Mikaelson pride.” 

"There is more at stake here, Elena." His tone was more direct than she'd heard from him before, like he was loathe to say the words out loud. He took a step towards her in the process as though wanting to keep the conversation between them. Elena looked up at him with her brows furrowed. What else would be possibly more important killing Klaus?

Elijah released a soft breath, and she watched as a muscle worked in his jaw. 

"He has my family."

"What? How?"

"Niklaus has every one of my siblings daggered and in coffins hidden somewhere. I don't even know if he keeps them together or has sent them to opposite sides of the globe or to the bottom of the ocean. He is the only person who knows where they are, and he is using them as leverage against me," His eyes flickered to hers and lingered heavily. "To get you."

"And you're using me as leverage for that too... to get them back."

Elijah nodded.

Elena clenched her jaw. "Fine."

Caroline was wrong. It's not me he wants to keep. It's his family he wants to find. That's why he won't kill Klaus.

"Thank you for the dinner, Elijah. I'll be in my room."

Elena's tone became clipped, and she could hear it herself. She wasn't certain what she'd been expecting; of course she was only leverage. Either to kill Klaus or to get his family back. There was never anything more to it. 

"Elena," Elijah's hand came upon hers and she stopped her tracks. "Rest assured, this war will not end with me handing you over to Klaus. You have my word."

Elena met Elijah's eyes and saw the genuineness in his face. But they weren't enough to forget that she was truly just a bargaining chip. She pulled her hand out from underneath his and began to walk away.

"We'll see what it's worth."

・❥・

Three days passed and Elena hadn't seen nor heard of Elijah. She'd barely even heard from Noah apart from an occasional text here or there, but she couldn't fault him for his timeliness; it wasn't as though she was particularly responsive either. All she could think about was what Elijah said at dinner.

He promised her that he would never hand her over to Klaus, yet with the promise of being reunited with his family after centuries, who would be able to resist that bargain? Perhaps that's why he never told her, even after a year - he knew he wouldn't be able to. He knew the life of the doppelgänger was only worth as much as he could get for it - three other Original siblings... and a successfully turned hybrid half-brother.

Still, she had Bonnie and Caroline to thank for a distraction. If Caroline wasn't texting her updates or asking her opinions on flower arrangements, she was over at the house bossing around decorators and contractors. Elijah had given her full reign, perhaps as an apology to Elena for not actually being as forthright as he'd claimed. She didn't care, she told herself. After all, what truly changed?

Nothing.

Except for the night before the Founder's Party.

In the depths of slumber, Elena's visions returned to her, passionate as ever. Only this time..

"Elijah," She moaned as his weight pressed into her deliciously. His hands ran down the length of her thighs to bunch her gown around her hips, pushing her up against the wall with the party just outside the door. The din of the chatter was far away from her ears as she heard him groan into her neck, his fingers fumbling for the belt to his trousers. She heard it clink as he pulled down his trousers, and pulled her dress back. The thought of getting caught - it thrilled her. She sighed at the feeling of his chest pressing into hers as he parted her thighs, fingers brushing against her wetness, then used his hand to guide himself insi-

Elena's body ripped itself from the binds of the sheets as she jolted awake. Her hair stuck to her forehead from the sweat that beaded on her skin. Her entire body felt like it was on fire. As the dream slowly began to disappear and the cool night settled upon her, she realized she was alone. He wasn't here.

She tried to ignore the conflicting feelings that roiled inside of her as she pulled the tangled sheets off her body, welcoming the chill of the air as goosebumps rose over her skin. However, the telltale sign of her desire still lingered, a wetness between her thighs and a pulsing that was difficult to ignore.

"God," Elena hissed, pressing her fingers against her forehead. This had gone too far now... but she wouldn't give in. She refused. Determined, she shut her eyes tightly and begged for sleep to return to her, but before she could even hope to fall asleep in earnest, the sun rose to wake her.

Elena's limbs ached... among other things. She purposefully ignored it as she stretched in her bed, pausing only when she spotted something hanging on her closet door.

She pushed the covers off, walking on stiff limbs until she could reach out and touch the glittery gown hanging in all of its glory. It hung nearly to the floor, with delicate black sheer fabric enveloping a glittering gold shift beneath it. The bodice was the blackest part of the dress, with tiny dark gems sewn into it that were sprinkled all the way down the dress as the skirt gradually revealed the gold gradient. A matching black mask hung by its ribbons, tied to the hanger.

Tucked between the metal rods of the hanger was a small note.

A token of our understanding - E.

・❥・

"Even I must credit you, Caroline. Your work is impressive." Elijah's eyes surveyed the hall, noting each impressive detail of the tables, the champagne flutes, the flower arrangements. There were two large twin staircases that descended from the upstairs level that were covered in a plush, velvet carpet and lined with bouquets of fresh flowers all the way up. Elijah nodded in approval. "I'm glad to see my money being put to good use."

"Thank you. It was a generous donation." Caroline said cooly, though not unkindly. "This may be a Founder's Party, but I'm doing it for Elena." She glanced down at the clipboard in her hands, then her eyes swept over all the moving pieces coming together in the ballroom.

"Hey! I said roses on the small tables, not the big ones!" Caroline shouted, huffing as she scribbled something on the paper in front of her.

Elijah watched the scene with amusement, slowly stepping along with Caroline as she flit from one table to another, adjusting the flowers until they were perched just so.

"Elena is lucky to have so many in her life so intent on her happiness."

"And let me guess, you'd be so bold as to count yourself among them?"

"Whether you and Elena would like to believe or not."

Caroline laughed at that, a light but cutting sound. "Well, I don't. But don't worry, she'll be happy tonight." Her fingers disappeared between the stems to pull out one rose that hadn't fully bloomed yet, the tips of the petals just barely beginning to open. She placed the rose onto the table to readjust the hole it had left behind in the arrangement, focusing on the larger blooms.

Elijah smirked at Caroline's bluntness. "Yes, my absence will hardly be noticed, I'm sure."

"She'll have her hands full tonight. Playing hostess, a date, romance, passion. Fun. It's what she deserves." Caroline said offhandedly.

"A date?"

"Mm-hmm. I set her up with a friend of a friend of mine, Noah. A good, normal guy." Caroline turned from arranging the roses, picking up the clipboard from the side of the table. Her eyes found Elijah's with a piercing look, a smile she didn't mean placed upon glossy lips. "You and your brother may have trapped her in this fairytale, but I'm giving her the happy ending. So don't get in the way."

Caroline's eyes dropped from Elijah's and refocused just over his shoulder towards the front foyer. "Bonnie! There you are! I need you to..." The blonde's voice trailed off as she disappeared to wrangle her friend.

Elijah's gaze fell on the rose on the table, and after a moment of consideration, picked it up with a delicate hand, and walked out of the ballroom.

・❥・

Elena gazed at herself in the mirror for a moment longer. The dress cleaved itself to every curve in her body, and the glimmer of the beading made her eyes sparkle. She'd done her hair in loose curls to cascade over her shoulder, and her makeup a little smokier than usual. The satin black gloves felt soft against her arms and with the accompanying mask perched on her nose, she felt like beautiful. She felt like a queen.

But he wouldn't see her like this.

Despite his acquiescence, she knew Elijah wouldn't be attending, whether he thought she didn't want him there or if preferred to recuse himself for her sake, she couldn't say. Perhaps it was neither and he wanted only to observe from a distance, like some vampiric phantom of the Founder's Party.

Still, she would enjoy herself, she decided. She didn't need Elijah for that. The dress spoke for itself, even if he wasn't here to see her in it.

She could hear the din of guests beginning to arrive on the main floor just outside of her room, but could hardly bring herself to leave. She was too afraid of the night ending as quickly as it would begin.

"Elena?" A soft knock accompanied Bonnie's voice, and Elena turned as she slowly entered the room. Both girls smiled and hugged each other tightly, shutting the door behind them. Just another moment alone couldn't hurt.

"Wow, Bonnie, you look so beautiful."

Her gown was a deep navy, with a sweetheart neckline. The matching mask had gold accents embedded in it with delicate swirls.

"So do you, Elena." She could tell Bonnie wanted to ask where the dress was from, but she changed the subject.

"How did you escape Caroline?"

"She sent me up here to make sure you were ready. She said the timing of the hostess' arrival is everything." Bonnie rolled her eyes with a small smirk. Elena laughed.

"Of course she did. Thank you, Bonnie. Caroline too. I can't believe what you've done for me."

"Honestly, we kind of couldn't have done it without Elijah," Elena could see that it gave Bonnie no satisfaction to give him the credit, but she had to admit it. "Almost too bad he's not coming to see it all put together."

"I suppose so."

"So, you ready?"

"Yes, let me just grab my clutch. Can you grab my phone off the dresser?" Elena turned around, the gown rustling against her legs as she reached for her black bag.

Bonnie turned and swiped it from the dresser, but as she went to hand it to Elena, it buzzed.

"Oh - Noah texted you!"

Elena took the phone from Bonnie, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over her chest. She opened the text and accompanying photo.

"Oh. Yeah, he sent me a picture of his mask."

It was a shiny black, but with a crimson gradient around the eyes. It looked almost devilish in nature, or even vampiric. Elena bit her lip in thought.

Bonnie noted Elena's less-than-enthusiastic tone and placed her hands on Elena's arms.

"Don't worry, Elena. You'll have a great time tonight no matter what. And when it comes to that... You never know, it could all be a surprise." Elena smiled softly as she took Bonnie's arm and slowly descended down to the party.

・❥・

Down in the foyer of the party, guests began filling in until the hall was nearly full to bursting. Word had spread that the annual Founder's Party had become one of the most illustrious events of the year thanks to Elijah's contributions, Caroline's planning, and Bonnie's help. The guest list had been tightly controlled as a result, partially due to the increased interest, and partially due to Elijah keeping tabs on who exactly was in his home, with one name of interest to Elijah in particular.

Noah walked up onto the front steps of the manor, dressed in a black suit with the crimson mask placed on his face, and approached one of the vampires working security. The man peered at Noah through his mask.

"Good evening. Name?"

"Noah. I'm a guest of Elena Gilbert's."

The vampire levelled him with an unreadable expression, then smiled. "This way, please."

・❥・

"Wait, where did he go? I just saw him!" Caroline stretched her neck over the crowd, peering through her golden mask. Her gown was light blue with delicate layers of glittering tulle, and her mask entirely enveloped in gold satin.

"Maybe he went to get a drink?" Bonnie offered.

"We'll keep an eye out. He's around here somewhere." Elena waved it off.

Caroline, Bonnie and Elena peered over the crowds of hundreds swirling around the hall. Music, dancing, and lively conversation filled the room, and Elena felt a weight disappear from her chest for the first time. As much as she disdained the fairytale jokes, it almost felt like a Cinderella moment.

In the sea of faces, three suddenly materialized. Jeremy, Matt, and Tyler all appeared in front of the girls, gallant in their tuxes and mysterious in their masks, and held their arms out to them. Matt smiled at Elena and she smiled back. "May we have this dance, ladies?"

"You may!"

Bonnie took Jeremy's hand, Caroline took Tyler's, and Elena took Matt's as they were whisked away into the flurry of dancing gowns.

・❥・

At the behest of the security guard, Noah was guided down an empty corridor, away from the party and instructed to enter the room at the end of the hall. He never got a clear answer as to why; perhaps Elena planned to meet him privately. Noah entered the dark room with trepidation and shut the door behind him quietly.

It looked mostly unused, an old stone fireplace, blackened with old soot, what looked like a couple of chairs with some white sheets thrown over them, and some empty bookshelves that looked caked with dust. Only the light that escaped from beneath the door and what little moonlight came through the small window lit his way inside.

"Elena?"

Noah stepped further inside, removing the mask from his face, squinting his eyes in the darkness.

"I'm afraid she's not here at the moment."

Noah started at the sound of a male voice in the room with him, just as Elijah flickered on a small lamp on a table on the far side of the room. He sat authoritatively behind the desk, and Noah let out an awkward laugh at the intimidating figure.

“Sorry, I’m looking for Elena, this girl I’m supposed to meet-“

“I’m aware. I’ve decided I'm interested in discussing the matter with you.”

Noah looked confused. Elijah awaited his response, levelling him with his stare.

“Oh- ha.” Noah snorted. “I don't have anything to say about it.”

“I see." He spoke with a thin thread of patience. "Perhaps it's because I have been remiss in my introduction. My name is Elijah Mikaelson. This is my house." Elijah gestured generally towards the room.

"As your cooperation could save your life…” Elijah’s eyes narrowed in the dim light. “I suggest you reconsider talking.”

Noah’s eyes went wide. “I-I just just got this call from my roommate, Julian, setting me up with her." He shrugged, cavalier as though this explanation would acquit him. Elijah raised a brow. “I was just hoping she was hot and down for it.” 

“Julian. I see. And this girl - your intentions?”  Elijah slowly began to stand from the desk, pausing only to re-button his suit jacket. He gracefully rounded the corner of the desk, his finger pressed against the tabletop, until he stood in front of the young man. Despite the proximity to the Original, Elijah had to note, he didn’t step back.

“My intentions? Well, I’m sure you could guess.” Noah smirked.

“Enlighten me.” Elijah smiled.

“Come on, man. You know if she was hot, obviously I was going to fu-“

Elijah’s hand punctured through the man’s chest before he could finish. The shock on his face quickly dissipated to nothingness as his body crumbled, and his heart rolled out of Elijah’s bloodied hand. It fell on the floor after its owner with two low thuds.  

“You were right. I could’ve guessed. You couldn’t have.” 

Whipping a white handkerchief from inside his suit pocket, he wiped off the blood from his fingers patiently.

Elijah crouched down by the man’s body, slipping his hand into his jacket pocket to retrieve his phone. He opened up the text conversation with Elena and scrolled through, then picked up the mask that had fallen out of his hands.

・❥・

The three girls crowded around one of the small tables, flutes of champagne in their gloved hands as they surveyed the crowd once more. After two dances, they'd excused themselves from the boys to reconvene and take a break. It seemed like with every moment that pass, Bonnie and Caroline were more determined to find Noah while Elena's certainty waned.

"Wait, there he is, I see him!" Bonnie pointed subtly in the midst of the crowd where Elena spotted the crimson mask Noah had sent her a photo of. She squinted at the man as he disappeared between the guests, only quick glimpses appearing thereafter.

"He's taller than I remember." Caroline murmured in some confusion.

"Where's he going?" Elena asked. Noah seemed to walk determinedly through the crowd, and Elena watched as he parted through the guests until he walked up the left side of the twin marble staircases and disappeared down the corridor.

Just then, Elena's phone buzzed.

[Noah: 11:36pm] - Come upstairs. 

Elena's breath hitched in her throat.

[Noah: 11:36pm] - Down the left hall. Last door on the right.

"Oh god, okay, go, go, go!" Caroline shrieked, turning Elena around to face her and Bonnie to fix her hair and makeup.

"Tell us everything when you get back." Bonnie grinned, her fingers adjusting Elena's curls.

"Do everything I would do." Caroline added.

Elena gave a nervous laugh, and allowed herself to be nudged towards the path of the staircase by the pair of them.

Part of her wondered how Noah was bold enough to traverse the house and invite her upstairs without even saying a single word to her, but, she supposed, it sort of was what she wanted. Passion, adventure. Maybe even a little danger.

That was what she told herself as she picked up her skirts with one hand and placed her gloved hand on the marble railing as she slowly ascended the stairs, her heart beating faster with each and every step.

The party quickly fell away behind her, and all she could hear was her blood rushing in her ears as she slowly walked down the darkened hallway. She recognized most of the doors that she passed, but not all. The room that Noah was said to be in, she'd never set foot in before. It made her wonder what was waiting behind it, and if this was all a terrible idea.

Still, her hand reached out until her fingers met the doorknob. One last breath into her lungs, and she turned it, opening the door to the darkness inside. Once it shut behind her, the shadows swallowed her whole.

As her eyes slowly began to adjust, she realized it was a bedroom. A grand four-poster bed stood just off to the right side with silky looking sheets and lush pillows, the bay windows to the right of it providing a light glow of silvery moonlight, even behind the clouds that seemed to linger. To the left of the bed, a small wooden night table with a tray on it, two champagne flutes filled with bubbles, and something else she couldn't quite see. Even further to her left, her periphery suddenly noted, a darkened figure sat in the very corner, hidden from the moonlight.

She could just make out the crisp white of the dress shirt he was wearing, though most of his suit's details were lost to the darkness. Likewise, she recognized the shape of the mask on his face, but the colour of it and his features behind it were enshrouded in the shadows. Thankfully, her own mask didn't obstruct her vision too much. Elena swallowed but felt a small thrill run through her body once she heard him speak.

"Hello."

Elena's tongue darted out to wet her lips. Something about the way the L's rolled off his tongue struck her as familiar, but she quickly shook off the thought. She couldn't let herself get so carried away with her fantasies that Elijah would cloud her every sense in that moment. Besides, she swore, he wasn't here.

"Hello." Elena responded quietly. There was a pause, then she released a slight laugh. "To be honest, I don't know why I'm here."

"I think I do." Came his response but the snippets were too short for her to be sure. Don't. Just focus.

"Do you?" Elena asked, relaxing slightly as their words became more playful. "I would say that's presumptuous, but..."

"But?"

"But I'm willing to find out if you're right."

The slightest glint of his smile flashed underneath the mask as he gestured towards the silver tray with the glasses. "Please."

Elena stepped towards the tray and picked up one of the flutes, appreciating how generous of a pour she'd been given. The bubbles coated her mouth and tongue, and the alcohol slipped deliciously down her throat and into her stomach. She could feel every nerve in her body begin to electrify as the anticipation began to set in. As she took another drink, she glanced down at the tray and noticed the third item, a single red rose lying next to the other glass. Points for romance, she conceded, though she would've never expected it from someone like Noah.

Glass half drunk, she returned it to the tray and turned to face him once more. He nodded in approval, then tilted his head, the glint of the smile still lingering underneath his mask. His eyes seemed to appreciate what they were seeing, falling from the crown of her head down to the bottom of her gown.

"You look beautiful tonight."

"Thank you." Elena placed her hands on her abdomen, uncertain of what to do with them now. She could feel her own stiff breathing through the corseting of the gown. "I'd say the same, but truth be told, it's hard to see you."

"You'll see me. Perhaps in the mean time, you could imagine."

Imagine. Her imagination was running wild in that moment, and it was becoming difficult to ascertain fantasy from reality. Every moment felt like she was slipping into another one of her dreams, yet how could she deny what was right in front of her?

"But I'd like to see you, Elena." He murmured in the night. "Take off your gloves."

His command rattled something within her, something dark. Her hands slowly obeyed as she reached for her gloves. Elena's left hand began to pull off the fingers of her right, and once her hand was free, she pulled the left one off as well. The pair was draped onto the night table next to the tray, and she felt goosebumps rise up and down her arms.

Despite the darkness, he seemed to catch every single detail.

"Don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid." Elena said determinedly, fighting off the shiver that threatened to come upon her.

He chuckled lowly. "I believe you."

"Is it your turn?" Elena asked.

"Soon." He promised. "Take off your dress. Slowly."

Elena took a breath into her lungs and held it. This was it. It was what she'd been dreaming about the last few nights. Passion, pleasure, all waiting for her...

Again, his command worked like a charm. The velvety sound of his voice was compelling enough for her to acquiesce without a second thought. It was what let her imagine so well, and she found her wanting it the more she slid into her fantasy. She slowly turned away from him and towards the bed.

The fabric rustled against her skin as she reached behind her and delicately unzipped the back of the dress. Her fingers trembled with every moment, and she hoped the darkness of the room concealed her nervousness well enough. As the fabric began to loosen around her body, she couldn't ignore the wishfulness that invaded her thoughts. The desire to have Elijah be the one to see her undress. What did it say about her that she accepted a gown from one man, only to take it off in front of another?

But there was little time to think about it now; she was in the room with someone who wanted her, who sought her out and who had the same intentions as she did. Not Elijah. She also couldn't ignore the desire that began to grow between her thighs at the sound of his silky voice ordering her to undress, at the thought of her being naked while he remained clothed.

Placing her hand against one of the posts of the bed,  she balanced herself on one heel as she stepped out of the dress. She’d forgone the bra as the dress had boning in the bodice to support her, and otherwise wore only a scrap of fabric that she could barely dare call a thong, and the black heels on her feet. Finally, the dress fell to a pile of fabric and glitter on the floor, revealing her nakedness in the moonlight. The last thing to fall was her mask.

A shiver invaded her body and she felt goosebumps prickle over new newly uncovered her skin. Even her nipples hardened from the cool air. She resisted the urge to cover herself as she slowly turned around to reveal herself to the shadowed figure.

“Beautiful.” She heard his voice murmur again, unadulterated desire evident in his words. The sound of it fuelled her own; the thought that she could have this powerful of an effect on someone else.

Her heels still on her feet, she tucked her hair behind her ear shyly, then took a half-step towards the night stand where the champagne glasses were and tipped the rest of it back down her throat. She heard him chuckle lowly again.

“Now, lie down and close your eyes.” 

He lifted one hand and gestured towards the bed, and she slowly set the glass down.

What if, she thought, what if I did imagine..

Elena sat onto the bed and swung her long legs up onto it, perching herself against the plush pillows. The silk was heavenly against her bare skin, and she felt herself sinking deeper into the middle of the sheets as her body relaxed each muscle. 

There were brief moments where the room became darker as the moon outside was covered by rolling clouds, and in that instant, the room became almost pitch black. Her lashes fluttered closed.

Elena could hear him stand from his chair and walk towards the bed, taking his time with every step. He stopped at the nightstand where the champagne flutes stood, and with delicate fingers, picked up the second glass to tip back into his mouth. After he replaced the empty glass alongside the other one, he picked up the rose from the tray, and slowly sat on the edge of the bed next to her. Her body tensed slightly, uncertain. Her brows furrowed as she anticipated his next move. Still, her eyes remained closed, but she could only see Elijah behind them.

With a featherlight touch, he gently brushed the rose against her cheekbone. She smiled slightly, at once recognizing the texture and smell of the flower on her skin. As it lingered against her cheek, her body began to relax.

He continued his path; the rose’s petals delicately traced along the height of both cheekbones, down to the line of her jaw, and to the slender column of her throat. Her breathing hitched at the feeling. It followed the horizontal lines of her collarbone, steadily dipping lower and lower until it caressed against her sternum. Afterwards, she felt it brush against her breast. Elena’s breathing deepened, releasing a soft gasp at the softness kissing the sensitive skin.

At first, twirling the bud against the mound of her breast, he then brushed it gently upwards until it rose up to the peak of her nipple. A soft mew escaped her lips as he swept the rose against her stiffened nipple, over one then the other. 

Elena sighed quietly at the feeling, her knees beginning to press together. She had to resist the urge to reach for him, to relinquish the game it seemed they were playing. It was even getting difficult to keep her eyes shut, but she was determined not to break her fantasy. His path continued; the petals dipped down the mound of her breast to the middle of her ribcage where it paused at her navel, just inches away from where her thong was.

Satisfied, his fingers gripped the stem of the rose as he slowly dragged it upwards back up her abdomen, her chest, her throat, and towards the plush curves of her lips. The anticipation was beginning to frustrate her, her fingers gently gripping the sheets beneath her. The rose arrived at its final destination; she felt the petal kissing her lips as softly as hers kissed it.

As the rose fell away, his lips replaced it with a kiss just as soft.

She gasped gently into his mouth at the feeling, so tender against hers. Something instantly sparked deep inside of her, and the kiss surrendered itself to desire as their mouths deepened against each other. She returned the fervour eagerly, delighting in the way he felt against her. It felt more natural than she could've ever expected, more right. Elena sighed into his mouth, her heels clicking together as she pulled her legs up towards herself, pressing her thighs together tightly.

His fingers came up to touch her jawline gently until they reached the back of her neck, and he pressed her mouth into hers more intently. Slowly, his tongue traced the line of her lips until she parted them, and she felt it meet her own. She liked the way he kissed, she decided. She liked the way he used his tongue against hers, almost as though he were rolling it in that familiar way... like when he said her name.

Elena.

Elena's eyes shot open. The crimson mask illuminated in the moonlight in front of her, Elena suddenly saw everything. The knowing smile, the discerning gaze beneath it. Elijah reached for the mask, and Elena's shock quickly turned into relief as his handsome face appeared before her. She wasn't dreaming; he was here, with her.

"Elijah." She panted.

"Elena." Elijah murmured, as he always did. This time, she heard her name differently, with desire dripping from every syllable. She wanted to hear more.

Elena quickly sat up in the bed to reach for him, her fingers slipping over his jaw and into his hair as she returned her lips to his. With no need for imagination, she gave herself fully into the revelation that it was Elijah next to her, his lips on hers, his hands on her body slowly slipping over her waist to pull her closer. She could nearly feel her soul burning at the sheer desperation of how much she wanted him, a wantonness that threatened to consume her.

Elijah was more than willing to do just that.

All else forgotten, Elena moaned into his mouth at the feeling of his large hands on the expanse of her body, her skin sizzling with each touch. It seemed her touch was just as intoxicating, as she felt Elijah grunt against her mouth, unwilling to separate their kiss as she pushed his suit jacket from his shoulders, and he loosened his tie from around his neck.

Her fingers traced the lines of his broad frame against his dress shirt, marvelling in his body as his fingers sought to make quirk work of the buttons. Elena's fingers hooked around the buttons and pulled, sending them scattering across the bed and the floor. Elijah chuckled at her impatience, and she relished at the sight of him so undone.

She could see his defined abdomen peeking out from beneath the torn halves of the shirt, and her fingers reached for his chest, greedy in her touch. Elijah's hands gently enclosed around her wrists, kissing her once more softly.

"I want to taste you first, Elena. I want you on my tongue."

Elena nodded, remnants of her gloss smudged on her lips, breathless. "Yes."

Elijah's fingers dug into her skin in a gratifying way as he collected her into his arms, sliding off the bed, then placed her onto her feet with her back pressed into one of the bedposts. Elena's eyes met his hungry ones as he slowly lowered himself, pressing kisses to her chest, stomach, and hipbones. She shut her eyes as Elijah pressed two more gentle kisses on the inside of either of her thighs, her brow furrowing as she silently prayed that he would not tease her too much. His finger hooked the edge of her thong that sat against her hip, and he pulled it down slowly until it fell around her ankles.

Elena's breathing hitched at the feeling of his tongue against her, wet and warm as it pressed against her folds, until the very tip of his tongue met with her clit.

Elena shuddered. He gently rolled his tongue against her clit over and over again, and she had to reach behind her and grip the bedpost to keep still on unsteady heels. Elijah's hands held her thighs in place, his tongue insistent against her, and she felt her body shake at the pleasure.

"Elijah," She moaned, her hips rolling towards his mouth greedily. He smiled, purposefully increasing the speed of his tongue flicking against her until her frame threatened to double over. His fingers dug into the skin of her thighs, and she revelled in knowing he desired her as much as she desired him.

"God, Elijah, please... Please."

Elijah's fingers pressed into her folds as his lips sucked around her clit, collecting her wetness until the first digit slowly slid inside. Elena moaned loudly at the feeling of his finger inside of her, louder still when the second one slipped in. His fingers pumped in and out of her quickly while he sucked against her clit incessantly, and Elena's hands left the bed to gently grip Elijah's hair.

Pleasure roiled through her, the waves now threatening to topple her over as the combined sensation of his fingers and lips against her pussy became too much to handle. Elena hissed through her teeth as she felt his fingers graze against that particularly sensitive spot inside of her, and felt herself clench around his hand in response.

Her back dug into the post of the bed, her thighs beginning to shake from holding herself up. Elijah's tight grip not only ensured she couldn't escape his pleasurable onslaught, but also that she wouldn't collapse into a heap onto the floor.

She could hear how wet she was with the way his fingers moved inside of her, his mouth licking and sucking in tandem, and as her head lolled forward, the sight of Elijah on his knees in front of her was enough to put her over the edge. That, and one last roll of his tongue in that way against her clit. Elena shivered, crying out at the feeling of her orgasm crashing upon her body. Every muscle convulsed, and she saw white behind her eyes as she wrenched them shut, her face contorted in pleasure.

At first, Elijah was merciful. His fingers pumped inside of her a few more times, his mouth pausing its assault on her clit as he watched her come undone above him, writhing in carnal pleasure. Then, with a dark gaze, he leaned forward and slowly licked her clit once more.

Panting, a light sheen of sweat on her body, Elena whined at the feeling.

"My wicked angel." He murmured, punctuating his sentence with one more lick. Elena gasped. "As beautiful as you are enticing. As innocent as you are corrupting."

"How do I taste?" Elena whispered, her voice shaking slightly as her body rode out the last ripples of her orgasm.

Elijah slowly pulled his fingers from her pussy, and stood to his full, towering frame to face her. Elena already felt spent, her hair sticking to her forehead and neck, eye makeup smudged around her eyes. Her orgasm had hit her like a wave indeed, but the sight of Elijah's darkened eyes staring at hers, and how that same sinful tongue that was buried inside of her now licked the length of his index finger - it was enough to alight her desire anew.

"Like an epiphany."

"And what will I find you taste like?"

Elena's breath returned to her as she reached up and kissed him, tasting the remnants of herself on his lips. She stepped out of her thong that lingered against her ankles, and turned him around so that his back was pressed against the bedpost.

She took a moment to enjoy the sight of him like this. Shirt torn, tie gone, left only in his black trousers. Her eyes flickered down to the evidence of his desire, and she boldly traced her finger along the outline of the bulge, earning her another deep groan from Elijah's chest. A muscle worked in his jaw.

Her fingers made quick work of his belt, clinking quietly as it was quickly dismantled. She undid the button and the zipper just as quickly, sensing the urgency between them. As the layers fell away, Elena witnessed the evidence of his desire for her. His cock stood proudly erect, long and hard, and Elena's hand tentatively reached for it, feeling its smoothness and hardness at the same time.

"Elena," He ground out, one of his hands coming around her arm. "Now is not the time to tease me."

"I disagree. It's the perfect time. When will I again have such power?" She murmured, rolling the pad of her thumb against the tip of it, collecting the wetness on its head. He hissed.

"Then you'll pay for it." He vowed, and she felt herself shiver at his promise. She had a vampire's release in her hands, an Original at that. She would enjoy this moment as long as she could, and reap the consequences gladly afterwards.

"Oh? Do I have your word?" She asked, a small smirk turning the corner of her mouth.

Elijah's eyes narrowed, a knowing smile appearing on his lips. She was already teasing him. "You have it."

Elena fell to her knees and slowly licked a long swipe along the length of him. She made sure to peer up at him, enjoying the way the same muscle continued to reflex in his jaw. His eyes threatened to close but he kept his gaze intent on hers, and she felt the sting of her desire renew between her thighs.

She licked the tip of it slowly, tasting the pre cum that had beaded there. Elijah released a soft moan at the feeling and at the sight of Elena licking her lips before parting them, and slowly taking him between parted pink lips.

He hissed at the feeling of his cock bumping against her folded tongue in the back of her throat, and Elena began slowly bobbing up and down his hard length, placing her hands on either of his thighs for stability.

One of his hands dropped to collect her hair from around her face, and gripped it loosely in a messy bun at the back of her head. She could feel him resisting the urge to thrust into her mouth, even as she quickened her pace, pausing only to swirl her tongue around his tip once more.

"Fuck, Elena." He growled. "Keep going."

Elena obliged, switching up her technique so that the tip of his cock gently rolled along the soft part of her palette, at the back of her mouth before slipping deeper into her mouth and down her throat. She pushed herself particularly close to taking all of his length as she gagged slightly, tears beginning to glint at the corners of her eyes.

"I love seeing you like this," He murmured, repositioning his fingers around her hair to grip it tighter, fingernails scratching along her scalp. Another groan rumbled in his chest. "Will you let me take control, Elena?"

Elena slowly pulled her mouth back, her tongue darting out to lick the saliva dripping from her bottom lip. In an instant, Elijah had her beside the wall, still on her knees, but with her wrists hoisted up in the air, locked in the grip of one of his hands. His other hand gently guided her head back towards her cock, and she parted her lips, eager to oblige. He noticed; his gaze was dark and sinful as he watched his cock disappear between her lips.

With her hands trapped in one of his, she could only match his pace as he began to slowly thrust in and out of her mouth, taking him deeper with each one. She raised her head upwards, drinking in the sight of him above her, his handsome features contorted in pleasure, and his darkened eyes watching her take him with sinful appreciation.

"That's it," He murmured, releasing another groan. "Such a good girl for me, Elena. You take me so well."

He allowed himself to gently thrust once, twice more, before he pulled out of her mouth and crouched down to kiss her, pressing the back of her head against the wall with his desperation. Elena matched his desperation, finally pulling the torn shirt from his shoulders as her hands devoured every inch of his skin, along his chest, up his shoulders, and the nape of his neck.

"How do I taste?" Elijah hummed, pressing another kiss to her lips before she could answer.

"Like eternity," She murmured in response, her large brown eyes staring up at his.

Elijah's arms slipped around her waist, then spun her around until her cheek and chest were pressed against the wall, with Elijah's body pressed firmly against the back of her. Elena groaned at the feeling, pushing her hips back to try and create some much-needed friction. He seemed to noticed, placing his hands firmly against her hipbones to still them.

His mouth found her ear, and suddenly she was surrounded by Elijah, enveloped in his very being as his warm breath fanned against her cheek and his deep voice reverberated in her chest. She could feel him pressing his erection against her, just as desperate for the feeling of her skin against his.

"Elena," He whispered, one of his hands leaving her hip to slip up her back to the column of her neck. His hand slowly encircled her throat and simultaneously tilted her head to the right, exposing the soft skin to him. He pressed a kiss against her jugular, and instantly, she envisioned his white canines sinking into her neck, crimson blood beading and trailing down along her chest.

She shuddered at the image in her head, and Elijah chuckled behind her.

"Is that what you want, Elena?"

It was only then that she'd realized he'd shown her the vision in her mind, a wordless question answered by her body's vivid reaction.

She couldn't even believe her answer.

"Y-yes. Yes, Elijah."

"Open your legs for me."

Elijah's face disappeared from beside her, and she felt his other hand drop from her hipbones to slip between her thighs. His fingers slowly rubbed against her pussy, collecting the wetness that dripped from her. She almost felt embarrassed at the effect he'd had on her, but the way he'd used his tongue on her, and the sordid image of him towering above her as his hips moved against her mouth... One of his fingers rolled over her sensitive clit experimentally, earning a whine from Elena. Satisfied, he pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades as he slowly guided himself inside of her.

Elena gasped at the feeling of being immediate full, her hands seeking purchase against the wall as he rolled his hips against hers until he was fully seated to the hilt. She pushed her hips back against his instinctively, desperate to feel every inch of him.

"Just like that," He groaned. "Good girl, take all of me."

Elena felt herself clench around him at his words. Elijah rolled his hips against hers once more before setting his steady rhythm. Instant waves of pleasure soared through her body, and her lips parted as her breathing turned to panting. She pushed her hips back again, matching each thrust with his perfectly. His hands dug into the skin of her waist, and one of Elena's hands fell from the wall to grip his, fingers pressing against fingers as his pace quickened.

"Fuck, fuck." She hissed as his cock hit against the bundle of nerves inside of her, her knees nearly giving out from against the wall.

Elijah instantly returned them to the bed, pressing her back down against the silky sheets once more. He lifted her legs over her shoulders and slowly guided himself back inside of her - Elena's eyes widened at the feeling of him slipping in deeper than ever, hitting the bundle of nerves more precisely than before. The moment she was full of him once more, she moaned loudly, fingers bending to scratch into the expanse of his back, heels clicking together behind his head.

Elijah dipped his head to capture her lips in a kiss and she hissed at the angle, her head falling back into the pillow desperately.

"Elijah, please... I'm gonna cum." She whined.

"Not yet." Came his low warning.

He gently removed her legs from his shoulders and slid his hands underneath her back to sit her up until the their two torsos met with Elena's legs wrapping around his waist. Their two bodies slowly still pulsed against each other, writhing gently with pleasure despite the significantly slowed pace, much to Elena's frustration. She clung to his body as he gently brushed her hair away from her throat again, then placed his fingers along her jawline to tilt her head. Both of them panted, their soft breaths colliding as a sheen of sweat covered their skin.

Elena suddenly heard his voice in the back of her mind, from what felt like an eternity ago.

I hope you find what it is you want, Elena.

Elena swallowed, her eyes meeting his in the darkness. His gaze searched hers, curiosity, desire, and a challenge all rolled into one. Elena nodded her consent to the vision he'd shown her.

"I want it, Elijah. I want you."

Elijah's face transformed instantly before her. Red and purple veins sprouted from beneath his eyes, colouring the whites of them crimson red in the process. His canines elongated, a pair of perfectly white fangs that glinted in the night. She touched his face gently, in awe of his terrible beauty.

His fangs sank into the soft flesh of her neck, deep red beads of blood immediately pooling from the wound. Elena gasped at the feeling, brow furrowing at the sharpness of the pain. But as Elijah drank from her, it lessened slowly to a dull ache, until it felt... incredible.

Elena released a soft moan as her hips instinctively moved against Elijah's, feeling him still hard inside of her. Elijah hummed into her neck in response, his fangs still seated deeply within her throat as he pulled the blood from her body with every swallow. Slowly, his hips began to move against hers, and the friction reignited. Elena cried out at the combination of him thrusting inside of her and the high of him drinking from her, feeling her orgasm beginning to arrive in earnest.

Elijah pulled away from her throat, licking the two perfectly sized holes lasciviously with his tongue. His teeth and mouth were coated in her blood, and his tongue darted out to collect it from his lips. The blood began to run down her collarbone and along the swell of her breast, but Elena hardly noticed, desperation and shamelessness taking over.

Elijah bit into his wrist, scoring the soft skin until it also ran red with blood. Elena pressed her lips to the wound, drinking the few drops as they dripped between her lips.

"Please, Elijah, fuck me." Elena panted.

Elijah didn't need to be told twice.

He flipped Elena around so that she leaning against one of the bedposts, her knees still sinking into the mattress. Her hands gripped it tightly as he came up behind her, sliding himself back inside of her once more. He gripped her hips tightly as he set a ruthless pace against her, his cock sliding in and out of her wetness with ease.

Elena's fingers dug into the wooden bedpost, her moans getting more and more unabashed.

"Elijah!"

He quickly pressed the pad of his thumb against his lips, his tongue darting out to wet the digit., then reached around her body. As his thumb rolled over her sensitive clit expertly once more, Elena nearly saw stars.

The feeling of being so full of him, of him teasing her just like that - her whine increased in pitch as her orgasm built deep inside of her. "Please, please, Elijah." She begged, eyes shut tightly as it threatened to finally overtake her.

"I gave you my word, didn't I?" He smirked behind her, mercilessly flicking against her clit as he continued pumping in and out of her. Elena nearly screamed.

"Yes, yes, please - I can't anymore-"

Elijah's laugh was almost enough to throw her over the edge, but then she heard the magic words. "Cum for me, darling."

Elena writhed in pleasure as her orgasm spilled, sending shockwaves of electricity to every nerve in her body. Her fingernails dug into the bedpost until she was sure it would shatter beneath her touch, then she fell back against his chest, her moans dying in her throat as the last of her strength left her.

Elijah's orgasm followed suit as he thrusted a handful more times, spilling his cum inside of her as his face contorted in pleasure, her name a prayer on his lips.

Elena's heart rammed against her chest as he slowly pulled out of her, then allowed him to wrap his arms around her body and gently lay her back down onto the bed. She felt instantly spent; every nerve felt like a firework that had exploded and sizzled out.

His body collapsed onto the bed beside hers, and for a moment, no one spoke. They stared up at the ceiling, chests rising and falling in tandem, enjoying the heaviness of their limbs and the lightness of their minds.

In the distance, laughter erupted from somewhere at the party.

"You're missing your party." Elijah murmured, lifting a finger to trace along the line of her body. Elena smiled, adjusting her head to lie on his chest. The blood was had mostly dried on her neck and chest from where it had dripped down, though some had smeared over her body in the process. She couldn't bring herself to care.

"It's alright. I got what I came to the party for. Do you think anybody heard us?"

"If we're lucky."

Elena smirked up at him, but soon afterwards, her smile fell slightly. Tracing her fingers along the smooth muscles of his chest, she looked up at Elijah, and he tilted his head downwards to meet her gaze.

"I wanted it to be you the whole time."

"As did I."

Elena sat up in the bed slightly, leaning against her elbow to regard him more clearly, remembering Noah's mask on his face.

"What happened, Elijah?"

He did her the credit of not pretending he didn't know what she meant.

"Caroline let it slip that you had a date tonight. Once I heard his name, I suspected it. Once I met him, I knew."

"You met him?" Elena asked, shaking her head in confusion. She pulled up the sheet to cover her body slightly. Elijah seemed unperturbed by her reaction. "Knew what?"

"That he was in Klaus' employ. The witches gave me the names of those suspected to be some Klaus's right-hand men, werewolves that seek his favour to become part of his hybrid army once he has broken the curse. No doubt he was prepared to reveal the location of the doppelgänger, among other things. Noah and a man named Julian were listed, his alleged roommate. I've dispatched a few of my men to deal with Julian, and with both dead, we hope their lead is dead along with them."

"What? I had no idea, Elijah, I swear. Caroline too-"

"I know, Elena. The fault is not yours or Caroline's or Bonnie's. It is sooner mine. I should have kept you more informed."

Elijah slowly sat up in the bed, his gaze flickering down to her neck where the remnants of the blood still stained her skin. The holes were long gone down, healed from the vampire blood in her system.

"You're just protecting me." Elena assured him quietly.

"Perhaps, but I have been underestimating you, Elena, and for that, I apologize."

Elijah raised his hand to gently tuck a loose strand behind her ear. He hooked one of his fingers under Elena's chin to gently tilt her head up, his gaze intently meeting hers. She felt the remnants of her desire stir in her stomach at the very sight of his eyes.

"Did you kill him?" She knew the answer perfectly well, and wasn't surprised at the honesty of his answer.

"Yes. I would say for that reason only, but it would be a lie."

She couldn't help but smile softly at his jealous confession, her conscience mitigated by the fact that Noah could've been a dangerous risk. There was a quiet pause, then he spoke again.

"If I kill Klaus, Elena..." Both of their heads turned to face each other, and Elena felt the gravity of his words begin to settle over her. She watched his face, trying to gauge his words. "I lose my family."

Elena nodded. "I know, Elijah."

"And I gave you my word that this war would not end in me handing you over to Klaus... So, I suppose that means I must ensure there is a way for me to find my family, even if he is dead."

"Elijah?" She asked, uncertain of his words.

"I'm going to kill him, Elena. We will."

Elena swallowed, her brow furrowing in concern. She reached for his hand, and he allowed her to take it, squeezing her fingers slightly. "Is that what you want, Elijah?" In the face of losing his family, she needed to be sure he meant it.

"Klaus is currently standing in the way of everything I want, Elena, but him living ensures I get the thing I want most."

"What is that?"

"Stay."

Elena's lips parted in surprise. A small word, yet the weight of it enveloped her heart. Her other hand reached up to touch his face gently, and she saw him lean into her warmth ever so slightly.

"Will you stay, Elena? Even if?"

Echoes of his words and Caroline's whispered through her mind. It's a waiting game... Maybe he doesn't want you to leave, Elena...

All of them were silenced as she leaned up to Elijah and pressed another kiss against his lips.

"I'll stay."

Elijah's hand reached out to touch Elena's face, his thumb tracing along the height of her cheekbone. She smiled at his touch. A low chuckle escaped from Elijah's lips as he spoke.

"Do I have your word?"

Elena couldn't contain her smile as she responded. "You have my word."

Elijah turned over, placing his elbows on either side of her head as he pressed another, deeper kiss to her lips. She sighed at the feeling of being surrounded by him, their legs tangling together as he hovered over her. His mouth fell to her ear, his breath warm and his voice low, and she heard it again, whispered into her ear, just the way she liked it.

"Elena."

・❥・

"Sir?"

The wolf hesitantly approached the man, head bowed slightly in respect.

"What is it, Jackson?"

"Noah's dead. So is Julian." He reported quickly.

"What of it?" Came the man's sharp reply. The wolf cleared his throat, his voice shaking slightly.

"Well, we have reason to believe their deaths are connected, sir. To her. Julian told me where Noah was going right before he left. Said he was meeting up with someone, a girl, in Virginia. It took some digging, but I found her." He quickly pulled his phone from his pocket, pulling up the photo he'd found. He spun it around for the man to see. "Elena Gilbert."

"Ah... Elena." Klaus smiled slowly at the sight of the familiar face. Just like no time had passed at all. "My doppelgänger."

[ravenwriter16]

'Creative Minds Think Alike'

Episode 1---Episode 2 (You're here already!)---Episode 3—Episode 4--Episode 5--Episode Six

Featuring the Amazing: @amarynthian-chronicles

Reminder! If the content creator doesn't approve of how I represented them or their AUs then a will edit my work or DELETE it. It's not my intention to mock or belittle anyone's work. This series is suppose to showcase amazing creators!

I do not beta read! I die like Solar from the Sun and Moon show (hehehe...I now have a target on my back)

If you don't like my work don't read it!!!!

I close the door to my home behind me as I step out. It was afternoon now, the sun starting to set over the horizon. My hood was down today unlike last night.

I walk down the path up to the castle, my pace a tad faster than usual since I actual had to schedule an appointment to meet with this Creator.

AND I was NOT going to be late!

My wings flap anxiously behind me as I put my hair into a braid. The tips of my pointed ears were turning red from the cold, so I brush some of my downy feathers (they're like baby hairs to me) to cover and warm them.

Though it was bothersome I still prefer the cold than the scorching heat of summer...

I enter the castle with a small sigh. A staff bot rolls up to me, holding its hands out. I shake my head and dismiss it with a wave of my hand. It backs off as I walk deeper into the castle.

Today I wasn't sticking to the lower floors. Instead, I was going up to one of the towers...

The creepy...PROBABLY haunted towers...

I was halfway up the stairs when a scream rips through the air and bounces off the walls. I shiver, wings closer to my shoulders now. Why do people like this sort of thing?!

I reach the top and find a single door. The metal frame was a tad rusty and had suspicious dark stains. I reach into my side pouch and pull out the second envelope from the pair I had before.

I look at the address on the envelope then step closer to the ruby-encrusted plaque on the door. They matched.

I pull out my pocket watch and check the time. Ten minutes early. What would be the harm if I'd knock now?

I raise my fist to the door. Inches away from connecting to the metal, it creaks open and a small cool breeze blows out.

It blows up some dust (why don't the staff bots clean up here?!) causing me to let out a sneeze.

"Bless you." A deep voice croons.

My gaze rises to meet sharp golden eyes. A tall animatron with marron metal and shiny bronze rays greets me. He had on a black suit that looks like it was pulled from the Victorian era. The black cape he had on made it seem like his shadow rose form the floor to rest over his shoulders.

A golden chain drapes across his chest and in one of his rays was a ruby stud.

White sharp teeth glint in the small light in this tower. "Good afternoon Archvist~."

"Grand Duke." I greet curtly. "I have an appointment this time. So don't even try to pull any tricks."

He chuckles and places a taloned hand on his chest, showcasing a golden ring with one ruby in the middle flanked by two diamonds. "You wound me so, darling~. Please come in."

He opens the door fully, standing to the side to allow me to enter. I eye him as I step through the doorway. He raises a brow, his grin never leaving.

I turn my attention to the room and the breath from my lungs leave. It was like something out of a fairy tale novel. The Grand Hall was elegant yet modern. The colors dark yet soft somehow. Beautiful pillars that connected at the top via arches hold up the domed ceiling.

A short distance in front of me is a staircase that leads up to a platform before splitting into staircases on the left and right.

At the platform is a giant stain glass window, showcasing in vibrant colors a scene of three high ranking fae (I interact with the species a lot, so I know fae when I see them) interacting with a female human. They seem to be trying to gain her attention from a small dark sphere in her hands.

I gasp as the glass in the window shifts, giving the characters life and movement. The yellow fae on the left attempts to give the woman a flower, the blue one from the right tries to give her a harp, while red the one above her (the biggest of the three) attempts to place a crown on her head.

My wings jerk, spreading out in alarm. I snap my pointed gaze at eclipse who retracts his clawed finger away from my spine.

"What have I said about messing with my wings?" I ask, annoyed.

"Sorry, Love. I couldn't resist the opportunity." He folds his hand behind his back, obscuring them with his cape. He saunters in front of me, "I will fetch my lady. Please refrain from touching any of windows."

"Why? Afraid I'll leave smudges on them?" I tease, my wings folding comfortably against my back.

"Oh no, darling~." he chuckles darkling, looking over his shoulder to pin me with his golden gaze. "But I am obligated to warn guest of their unique...talent of trapping people into their worlds..."

I shiver slightly, whether from the new knowledge of the windows (Relm Holders I suppose) or form his tone and gaze, I don't know.

He hums in thought before continuing up the stairs. I wait till he turns to the right stairs and reaches the top without trying anything.

I roll my shoulders and rub the back of my neck. I walk to the center of the Grand Hall and at the foot of the stairs. I take my time looking around, each stained-glass window leaving me equally breathless.

One was of scales of justice. On one plate was a gavel and a rolled-up scroll, while the other had a heart, which had colors of pink, blue, yellow, and red. They kept rising and falling, as if their fate was still undecided.

Right next to it was a scene of the ocean crashing against a rock cliff. Two leviathans and a VERY tall kraken look down at the cliff where a small human with shimmering blue patches of skin sings to them.

The final one was familiar. A certain viscount holds up a paint brush, red paint lining its path as he flourishes it while bowing. The Marquis has a violin under his chin, the musical notes showing and dripping with blood. His eyes closed but the smile on his face filled with mischief. The Grand Duke (Who was taking his sweet time getting his Creator) Holds up a large diamond, one of his fangs stained red.

The poor dear suffering the affections holds up one hand to stop the three from doing anything to rash, yet behind her back she holds a wooden stake.

I snort, "I'll have to meet this one. To be able to put up with those three...In fact all these Place-Holders have to put up a lot..."

I look back up at the stairs, crossing my arms. My shoulders tense as I hear the sound of heels clicking on tile. I bow as a regal figure starts her descent down the stairs.

"Amarynthian-Chronicles," I bow, "It's an honor to finally meet you."

"The honor's all mine." She responds.

I straighten up, finally getting a good view of her. On top of her head was a crown made of black shattered glass that seemed to shift and swirl as if there was mist trapped in each shard. A see-through red veil covers her face

Her black hair was down but curled around her elvan ears. Her red pixie wings flutter slightly behind her. Everything about her color wise was red, black, gray, orange or yellow. She had on a beautiful ball gown with a gorgeous closed shawl that had gems sewn into the fabric.

Her blood red eyes regard me with curiosity and mischief. If I didn't already know she was a creator, I would have mistaken her for High-Ranked Royal Fae.

She meets be at the base of the stairs. She gives me an apologetic look as she moves the veil over her head so that it was no longer covering her. "So sorry about the last time you tried to pay me a visit."

"It's alright, I should've known better than to not take Moon's threats for granted..."

"He does not joke when it comes to his booby-traps..." She hisses through clenched teeth.

She then gestures to a table with two chairs...That were NOT there before. Seeing my stunned expression, she laughs and puts a hand on her hip. "You alright?"

"Oh yes!" I blush, "Sorry...You'd think I'd get used to it by now..."

We both share a laugh as we sit down. She rubs her hands together< "Now! I believe you have something for me to look over and possibly sign, correct?"

"Yes." I nod. I bend over to the side a bit to dig through my side pouch while Amarynthian-Chroniclesclaps her hands in delight.

"I've been meaning to get this over with for a while but the old man who you took over for was SO forgetful..."

I nod my head, humming in agreement. I shout in delight when I find the envelope but then a shadow falls over me and my smile quickly morphs into a frown.

"Dear Duke," I get out through gritted teeth.

"Yes~?" He bends over me and I'm forced to look at his smug face.

"Can refrain from bothering me for at least two seconds?"

"I'm afraid not. It would be pure torture to let you go unbothered, my darling Raven~."

"Eclipse." Amarynthian-Chronicles warns with a snap of her finger. The Grand Duke pulls back with a small chuckle and then walks over to stand behind her.

"I apologize, my gem~. But the Archivist is too easy to rile up."

I shoot him a glare before handing Amarynthian-Chronicles the envelope. She opens it and pulls out an introductory letter and a stack of papers.

"Wow...it's really stacked up." She mumbles. With a wave of her hand the papers fly in a circle around her head. Her eyes quickly scanning each one.

I lean back in my seat with a sigh, stretching out my arms to relieve some of the tension. It works for a moment but when I look up to find Eclipse licking his fangs while maintain eye contact with me, the tension comes flooding back.

"Don't you have a Place-Holder to go bother?" I snap.

"Dear Y/n is with my brothers currently." Eclipse rolls his eyes and puts one hand on his hip and waves the other in the air dismissively. "They are showing her around the palace. Boring really. I'm here trying to entertain myself."

"Ahuh..."

"By the way Raven, how would you like to join in my blood gem collection~? Just a drop of your precious red and you'll be immortalized."

"Okay One, I'm already immortal you leech-,"

"Rude~."

"Two, you are not tricking me to become your servant for the rest of eternity..."

"But it would be so fun-,"

"FOR YOU-,"

"Alright, alright..." Amarynthian-Chronicles claps her hands together and the papers neatly stack on top of each. It lands on the table with a soft thud. She blows over the top form and her signature appears.

"I found no fault with these forms. You now have my John Hancock."

"Thank you, Madam." I stand up and grab the stack of papers, leaving the introductory note with her. "If you ever have any questions, concerns, or statements you'd liked to make about the castle, please feel free to message me or visit my mushroom."

"Mushroom...That sounds like fun!" She nods her head, "I will come down if the need arises...OR if I'm bored..."

I laugh, "I would appreciate your company all the same! Have a pleasant evening."

I give another bow to her. Then I turn my attention to Eclipse, "Duke." I nod.

"Archivist." He responds back with a softer tone and a small bow. But I could see the glint in his eyes.

I turn tail and get out of there, slightly flying as my wings anxiously beat.

I close the door softly behind me, hearing the two on the other side laughing at my behavior. I sigh and start the descent down the stairs to the first floor of the castle.

I have meet with two creators so far. And I'm sure there will be more to come...

***

Episode two is completed!

This was so much fun to write and I hope you all enjoyed reading it!

Have a fantastic day or night!

[rougerosei0]

The roses of Heliogabalus

Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, 1888, United kingdom, Victorian era, oil painting, 213.9x132.1 cm

Roman Emperor Egalabus (Heliogabalus, 204-222 AD) invited guest to have a drink and orgy at his palace. After drinking and some sexual intercourse he attempts to smother his audience by having the petals let down from the ceiling, the weight of the flowers would make it that the intoxicated hosts couldn't get up, thus suffocating.

Heliogabalus ruled 218-222 AD, he wasn't that favorite of an emperor to the point where his family assassinated him. He wasn't beloved for his love to alcohol, sex and drugs.

Initially the flowers were supposed to be violets and other flowers, Alma-Tadema changed it to roses. Violets were associated with modesty and faithfulness, he changed it to roses because roses were associated with lust, therefore enhancing the meaning of the painting.

Heliogabalus is the one on the platform in silk robe and tiara, watching his guests drown in the petals. Behind him in the background is a woman playing on double pipes and wearing leopard cover and ivy-wreath around her head. She's a meanad which is the follower of the god Dionysus, they were also called "mad women" due to their ecstasy, intoxication and liveliness. Her being follower of Dionysus supports the fact that behind her is a bronz statue based on Ludovisi Dionysus.

Choosing Dionysus for this painting was perfect as Dionysus is the god of wine, fertility, festivity, insanity and more, it underlines the message of the painting.

The painting was warmly welcomed, the interpretation was that the guests were smothered by their own lust, this clean and modest representation is characteristic for the Victorian era.

Fun fact Alma-Tadema made sure to depict each of the petals as realistically as possible, from the years of 1887-1888 he would order fresh roses as reference, he rushed the painting before the flowers died. Alma often ordered flowers from all over Europe, sometimes even Africa for a drawing reference. He was known for his perfectionism. He would order the flowers to UK from France every week for the time period of 4 months. The painting was commissioned by Sir John Arid for £4,000 ($150,000 in 2020).

[tempest-toss]

Spooky guest, you deserve a plushie!

'Maybe blue means good?' Quill reasoned as they stepped for the door in the middle and grasped the handle, which felt cool to the touch. It turned with a creak, allowing them to enter.

The inside was quite quaint, reminiscent of a Victorian-Era sitting room. Along the walls were many picture frames, albeit many were lacking photos inside. A fire place was along the far wall, the flames an eerie blue as above it rest a large painting of a handsome gentleman, posing dramatically with a rose losing its petals in a breeze. In the middle of the room sat a tea table, with floating cups and saucers.

The light switch flicked down on its own accord, revealing a figure seated at the table. He was the same gentleman in the portrait, however he glowed an ethereal blue, floating slightly above the chair, where there would be legs a wispy tail instead took the place, like something out of Casper. The figure turned and regarded Quill with some disdain in his eyes.

"You seem lost, intentionally so. What is the purpose of your stay?" The ghost questioned. Quill went to speak but was silenced when he arose from his chair. "You musn't answer my query, for I know intimately your quest. I have been following you since you snuck into the relic room, and stole something from us. Then you went and murdered a loyal worker. You have no position to barter or plead your case, instead I shall enact a fitting punishemnt."

The spectre flew up and into Quill, disappearing. Quill felt their arms go cold, then it began to move on its own. They could do nothing as their right hand grabbed their left and harshly pulled down, emitting a loud snap from the broken bone. Quill couldn't scream. Their hand grabbed onto their leg,and with a sharp pull popped it out, causing Quill to collapse onto the ground.

"Your friend Winona was here," Quill found themselves speaking with a voice not their own. "She came in like a thief, cleaver in her steps but not enough to find the antidote." Their body turned over the nearby seat, revealing the corpse of their comrade bearing blue veins and a pale face. "And now it is time for the grand finale!" Quill felt their hands reach around their head and begin tilting. This ghost was messing with them! Quill was about to fight for a word when the hands sharply tugged, and a loud snap could be heard. Quill's body limply fell as the ghost left their body.

...

Quill awoke with a jolt, the faint pain of cracked bones emanating from their fingers, leg and neck. They sat up, panicked breathes escaping them. They had died again. A friend was dead. They barely recognized the sound of the small bridge connecting the inside balconies together. They awkwardly got up and crossed it, entering the first door they saw.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The new room was too bright for Quill. It was very kidcore in design. Pastel art and bright colors adorned the walls. Along the back were an assortment of different fabrics and materials, mostly yarn and strings of many colors. A section of the wall was covered in an assortment of buttons, and another had pinned designs of different plushies to be made.

Speaking of plushies, the entire rest of the room was nothing but them. Piled up as tall as the ceiling were several mountains of plushies. Most were typical common ones that could be found. A yellow bear here, a red snake there. There were some of the more unconventional sort, such as axolotls and pegasi, and a few that Quill had never seen before. What struck them as odd was that at the far end of the room was a simple table. A radio and a plushie lay next to it. Approaching it revealed that the plushie was of a little Winona, and the radio was hers, absent from the Tea Room where her body was.

"You are very nosy." Quill turned around, meeting the gaze of a small girl. She had dark brown way hair, accentuated by a cute bow resting atop her head. She had a complexion that seemed like she was from Argentina, and her clothing confirmed this, being in the colors of the flag. She had a smile that was sweet, but her eyes held a sinister evil.

Quill knew who this was. This was the fifth overseer. One of the more deceptive ones, as she had the appearance of a little girl, but boasted high intelligence and psychokinetic abilities. Quill was fucked.

"Let's play a game! You get a few minutes to find the key out of this room! I've hidden it in one of my plushies!" The door could be heard locking on its own, but Quill wasn't focusing on that, but rather on the searing pain in their hand. Their eyes snapped down to see a pair of scissors embedded in their hand. "Use that to find it! Your time starts now!" The lights shut off as Five's laughter echoed, with her being gone they came back on. A clock could be heard somewhere in the room, signifying the timer's start.

Quill put everything into their endeavor, slicing the stomachs of plushie after plushie, to no avail. Twenty seconds in and a chorus of giggles and laughter left the mouths of the dolls and plushes, mocking Quill's attempts. At forty seconds in the plushies began barring teeth, launching themselves at Quill, biting down on their ankles and arms. Soon the room was full of stuffing and discarded plushies; all the mountains of plushies had been pulled down, either cut open or flung about as Quill attempted to defend themself. Then they saw it: Underneath the largest pile sat a grandfather clock, ticking away. Tied to the pendulum was the key that Quill had needed. They could only sit and watch as the clock chimed, the minutes were over and fate sealed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~WARNING~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quill felt themselves be flung back to the table, where a sinister Five stood. "You lost! So now I get to play with you! First, we should remove that pesky skin of yours!" Quill was being held in place by Five's mental abilities, and could only watch as hundreds of sewing needles appeared, diving in and out of Quill's skin, picking up a little bit here and there. This process repeated in a slow, agonizing way until every inch of there skin had been pulled off.

"eww, you still have organs and stuff inside, we can't have that!" With tweaks of her hand, Five used her mind to slowly tear out Quill's liver, then pull out the tongue, popped the appendix, unravel the intestines, burst a lung, rupture the spleen, and explode the stomach, all inter-spliced with the periodic snap of the ribs.

"Hmm, maybe I want to make you into a puppet?" Five began to manipulate Quill's body, slowly creating holes in the wrists, allowing her to pull out the veins and nerves. Then she slowly tore them through the wrist and inch slowly across the arms, until enough had been gathered to form a set of "strings" holding Quill up.

"Meh, too gross." Five said after admired her work. WIth a clap the eyes of Quill squished, their teeth slammed harshly together until they cracked, and all of their toes and fingers snapped in horrible directions. Then the "strings" were cut, causing Quill's barely living body to flop to the ground, blood oozing everywhere. Five laughed along with her toys, who would crawl forward and began to eat the remains.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~WARNING OVER~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quill woke up with a jolt, pain screaming across their body. They slowly sat up, feeling the heat from the pocket watch, as if it was angry for having to bring them back to life. They looked around and saw nothing but darkness, sans a tiny campsite that had a lit fire, a crank flashlight, and a note.

"Thank you for playing with me :>. I think the house is mad at you, because it moved your body down here to the basement! I'm sure you can get out on your own :3"

Quill cranked the flashlight and peered it down in front of them, allowing them to barely make out a door and a sign that seemed to say "Exit". A faint ping form their radio also made the trek seem like the way to go!

"Help me."

A faint voice could be heard from Quill's right. A turn of the flashlight revealed a closer door. There was a strong ping as well from the radio, and someone was calling for them, maybe it was an actual living comrade! Quill needed time to think about what to do next.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Death Counter: 3 Personnel Counter: 2/12 accounted for

Notes Acquired: The Cruel Toys

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[flyingfishtailoutpost1]

The school tech and I were talking to our TA today about what she wants to do after graduation. She said she wanted to go into education, maybe ESE, so I mentioned that my alumni had a special program for education of the deaf and blind—“and the dorms have AC now and everything, so that’s awesome!”

They were like “…wut??”

So I had to give them the story of my College Dorm Adventure, which I knew was kind of bonkers but by their reactions I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’m underestimating it by, like, an order of magnitude.

Some highlights:

Most of the school is housed in a Victorian-era hotel that looks like fucking Hogwarts. The dining hall had three story vaulted ceilings and Tiffany stained glass. The food was shitty though. Eating extremely shitty cafeteria mac n cheese under gilded frescoes was a funny experience.

The wiring was so old that some of it may have been there since the place was built…in 1888.

So yeah, no AC and also if you ran a blow dryer and a tv at the same time you could blow out the lights for an entire floor.

There was central heat, because the temps would get down into the teens in winter, but all the heat rose to the top floors because the insulation was ancient and because of all the secret passages (hold on a sec) so the upper floor rooms would be sweltering. So we opened the windows in the hall, let it get to like 40 degrees, and ran back and forth to thermoregulate like garden lizards

Oh yeah, the place was riddled with secret passages, because the dorm rooms were in the old hotel rooms, and there were the remains of old staircases that led to nowhere and chutes between rooms so the ye olde servants could move around unobtrusively. Some were boarded up. Some were not. Some were still used by maintenance so occasionally you’d hear their voices echoing in the walls.

That didn’t help with the whole “this place is hella haunted” thing

Because it was hella haunted.

Every day we had people dressed as pirates walking crowds past our windows giving lectures about how haunted it was. Housing Services occassionally had to issue memos telling all the freshmen that they couldn’t ask to move rooms anymore just because some upperclassmen told them their room had a ghost in it. (One of my rooms had a ghost in it but I didn’t figure that out until way later.)

The design of the dining hall meant that there were acoustic pockets where people 150 feet away could hear what you were saying because the sound traveled along the arched ceilings. This could cause gossip-type trouble, and also convincing-the-freshmen-that-the-ghosts-were-everywhere type trouble

Possibly more frightening: the school was tiny and most of the classrooms were in the same structure as the dorms so if you skipped class too many times and you lived on the ground floor, you could wake up to your professor peering in the window at you like “HEY, YOU GOOD???”

(The town was also tiny. One graphic design professor was known for going out drinking with groups of his seniors and getting hammered at the bars across the street, then the whole lot of them would end up sleeping it off on his office floor because why not?)

Supposedly you couldn’t go up to the 3rd floor ballroom because Aleister Crowley did seances up there and summoned demons so the floor was cursed and rotted. Crowley had indeed been a guest at the hotel. The floor was just structurally unsound because they hadn’t gotten enough grant money for the restoration job.

There were creepy carved cherubs EVERYWHERE, they were inescapable. One weekend the dollar theater down the street ran The Haunting and everyone freaked out and people were sleeping in the hallways for a while because they couldn’t deal with being stared at all night.

My sophomore year a raccoon or some sort of something got into one of the passages in the walls or ceiling adjacent to my room and died. The room was filled with death smell and flies for two weeks. Maintenance just shrugged at us about it and were like “Yeah that happens sometimes, we have no clue what’s in those walls, really.” My roommate at the time moved into a friends room that smelled better and I was left pretty much alone with a dead raccoon(?) and a raging bad case of unmedicated anxiety disorder. Luckily that was not also the room What Had The Ghost In It.

I lived there all 4 years because my friends and I insta-bonded and we all ended up living next door to each other and going everywhere in a pack. Also we liked the weird. And the ghosts.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Can't decide if I like plain Victorians or over-the-top Maximalist ones. I think, maybe a balance. This one is bursting with pattern, color, and stuff. 1894 in Stockton, California. 3bds, 3.5ba, $549K (good price, though, was cut $19K).

This is an unusual entrance hall b/c you don't immediately see a beautiful staircase straight ahead, it's just a small hallway or foyer w/the stairs off to the side.

They have the walls and ceilings wallpapered, and both sitting rooms are loaded with stuff. Looks like an original fireplace and millwork, but even the carpet is patterned. I'm so boggled, but they've spent a lot on this house- the wallpaper alone!

I don't know, but I expect that there must be wood flooring under all the printed carpets.

The kitchen remodel has nice cabinets that have a real vintage look, but I don't care for all the tile, especially on the counters.

A small table fits in this corner. I wonder if the cabinet conveys.

The powder room has one of those repro Victorian toilets- love that.

Next to the kitchen is the dining room. They decorated the hell out of this house. Those columns are nice, but you can barely notice them, and I would rather focus on original architectural details.

They are to be commended for preserving it, though. No modern renovation.

The primary bedroom is nice and has a sitting room.

They have a family/TV room.

Full bath with a claw foot tub and Victorian toilet. They did a great job on the baths. They look Victorian, not contemporary, like some others we've seen.

This is a pretty bedroom.

Another great bath. All of the baths have either repro fixtures or original.

Look at this- a cute little rental unit on top of the garage looks like a cottage.

It's a small modern apt.

Patios and a pergola surround the house and garage.

Not much land on the 5,227 sqft lot, but they made the most of it, plus look at all the solar panels on the main house.

[hiragashii101]

Trials of Distant Memories.

[Male Deity x G.N Reader]

[0] , [1] , [2]

Reincarnations are said to be both a belief and a fraud. Living a life from different timelines, could that be true? He seemed to be seeking the planet just to find them.

Various voices mushed together, incomprehensible words echoing across the lit grand chamber. It felt so irritating to him. Coloured glass panels etched with silhouettes similar to the gods he once saw, light flowing through the panes as it paints the room with a soft colour of gold and white, white pillars reaching towards the ceiling.

Eyes glancing upon each figure occupying the round serpentine tables, deities of all kinds and matter had come to this exact day to negotiate and discuss about... External factors that had thrown the balance. 

Quietly settling down at his designated seat between his brother and another deity, he watches as both tick marks on the grandfather clock came to an halt once it reached twelve. The booming noise of the clock caused everyone to simmer down, their voices reaching into a whisper.

A rumbling, creaking noise was heard behind him, feeling the grand door being pushed while it scratches the marbles floor. Pure white bursting through the room, caressing each entity with it's light as a shadow looms across the entire chamber. Not even needing to take a quick glance, he already knew it was him. Eyebrows furrowed, he held a grim look.

He's here.

It felt like an average day today, actually no— a quiet day, you thought. It felt like the whole globe fell asleep. There were less vehicles on the main road and people on the sidewalk, and work seemed to be pacing slowly. You didn't mind it, honestly. It gave you so much more time to enjoy your hobbies at work; yet it just didn't sit right with you. You would've expected atleast the tiniest bit of misfortune to run across your city, considering the rate of accidents (car crashes, specifically) were no doubt higher compared to other cities.

Enjoying the view on the sidewalks after your half shift, numerous tree variants blocking the heat of the summer from burning you up. Your thoughts drifting away, mind turning blank until a siren from an ambulance rung through your ears, snapping you away from your trance as it sped away. Turning your head to watch, you kept your eyes glued until it's body seemed too blurry to see despite the squinting. Maybe you spoke too soon, it was an average day after all.

Maybe you shouldn't have thought about that as well. 

A minute ago you were walking on the sidewalk, and now, you're trying to keep the momentum of your legs consistent, urging yourself to speed up while making random turns in hope to successfully lure the man away. You weren't sure how it ended up like this so quickly. And as soon as you saw the man's face twist into delight after predicting your spot —With you sadly unable to catch a breath— , your face scrunches up in panic before forcing your legs to start running again.

You could hear him calling out to you with an sickly endearing term, maniac laughter bouncing off the alleyway. Each stomp of his leathered shoes could make a rumble from how harsh and heavy it was.

You didn't like this, you didn't have the amount of stamina needed for this. You had to figure out a better way for him to lose your trace. Quickly making another sharp turn that lead to the sidewalks, you rapidly turned your head until your eyes locked onto a bakery feets away from you that seemed to be filled with customers on your left. Not wanting to look back to see if he's getting closer, you immediately broke into a sprint towards the bakery, only to be stopped by a woman.

And time seemed to slow down once you've realized the situation you were in. The woman seemed to also have an classic taste in fashion, dressed as if she was born during Victorian days, her huge bonnet covered in roses. Your eyes darted directly to her gloved hands, the shotgun gleaming, rays of light reflecting onto the metal.

Once you felt the cool metal being pressed against your forehead, your mind begins to malfunction and the entirety of your body froze. A shaky exhale leaving your mouth.

"Darling, We both know you can't escape us that easily." She cooed, Where did she even come from in the first place?  Was she waiting there this whole time?

Unable to speak, you could only give a glare at the woman, eyes narrowing. "Great job, hunny. That's going to be our first steal of the year." A rough voice spoke from behind you. Knowing who it already was, you resisted the urge to slap his hands away as he placed his hand around your tensed shoulders, chuckling.

Steal? What do they mean by stealing? What do they mean 'Of The Year'? As questions started to form more in your head, the woman quickly snapped you back to reality by tilting the shotgun, placing it beneath your chin. The man right behind you tightening his grip around your shoulders.

"Let's take this where's it's a bit more.... Hidden. Yes?" The woman smiled, her body rigid as she nudges the gun towards you. "Go on, Victor will lead the way." 

Almost looking defeated, you followed through with their orders. Not willing to risk your life, especially with a shotgun poking behind your back, ready to fire if you provoked any of them. You could hear both of their heels and shoes clicking on the ground in sync yet your mind still wanders around on escaping this horrid situation you're in. 

Sweat forming around your temples, you tried to calm your beating heart. You were panicking. Your heart was beating so quick it felt like it could puncture out of your body at this rate. 

While they were feeling the rough edges of the wall (possibly to find a hidden lever) with their hands on the alleyway they've cornered you in, you felt your legs wanting to dart away from them despite the wobble. Sadly, that wouldn't be a great choice. The woman knew of your antics and said she would break your legs by all means necessary.

There goes your only chance to escape then.

Once they've figured out the lever placement, they pushed it down and began to move the green dumpster from its original place, showing a box sized door that could be opened. 

"Well, sweetheart. You go first." The man, Victor —if you've remembered— insisted with an small grin, allowing you to see the fake golden tooth. 

Nervous, you twisted the door knob slowly before sliding the door to the side. It was pitch black. Unbelievable, they're going to place you here forever? Is that it? Trapped forever. As anxiety started to spike up and consume precious time, the woman behind you was becoming more impatient. With a rough tug on your shirt, she pushes your head inside the opening, not caring about your shocked and panicked yelp.

"Get in. Now." Was all she hissed. "We're not asking you anymore, we're demanding you to ge—!" Was all she was able to spat out before her body was suddenly being suspended in the air without her control.

"Wh- what is this?! Darling!"

She shouted, slight panic now evident in her voice as she tries to reach for her husband's grasp, who also tried to grab onto her hand. —"Hold on darling!" He uttered out— Only intertwining hands for a second before the both of them got knocked up, floating, then harshly thrown to the side of the alleyway. The force strong enough to make their bodies leave a huge dent on the apartment complex's wall, but not enough for the apartment to collapse.

You weren't sure what was happening out there, but all that mattered was that you've closed the door in time before anyone could've seen you. Hearing the thuds and banging of bodies from wall to wall seemed so harsh to hear, to hear their cries, their struggle, the gunshot of an bullet going off the distance untill it all stopped and their ragged breathing was all you could hear.

It scares you. It almost sounded like they were being brutally murdered.

Your hand was glued onto the door knob, eyebrows furrowed with an heavy heart. It was cramped here. And way too hot. And you could barely think for yourself from all the oxygen you're losing. Turns out, it really was just an slightly spacious box —with the need to slouch, due to the box being short— with nothing in it. You could barely see anything except for the small rays of light that managed to sneak in through the cracked areas.

After a few minutes of contemplating on whether you should go out of your safety nest or not, you decided it was best to go now. Especially with the oxygen disappearing, you wouldn't want to die in a place like this.

Twisting the knob, you slowly pushed it away from you and dragged your body outside, feeling the crisp air finally hitting your skin. You sighed in relief, eyes closed. Finally, you could breathe easily again. Your chest was heaving heavily, sweat accumulating slowly as it drips down from your chin.

As much as you wished you could celebrate your survival, you could see a man from the corner of your eyes standing idly, as if he was analyzing you and the couple. Speaking of the couple... Your eyes glanced at the two bodies near the man, leaned against the wall and knocked unconscious. Surprisingly no blood despite the rough noises you've been hearing outside.

"They're okay, don't worry about it." The man mused, and surprisingly, he sounds familiar. 

Glancing up at the male, your eyes widen. "Orion?" At the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, he simply smiled, "That's me." black eyes boring into yours deeply, yet it didn't seem so intruding.

"How... How'd you?" Stuttering, you allowed him to help you get back on your feet, dusting your pants off with his hand free hand.

He replied quickly, as if he read your mind. "Them? Don't worry, I've only made them unconscious. They'll be awake soon."

"Aren't you hurt?" He appreciated the concern you had for him.

"Not at all." 

Before anyone says: "Hey! You said you'll update weekly!" You're right, I apologize. My On-the-Job Training started and I've been feeling so weak and fragile all week round LOL, Kid you not, a brownout on a Friday! Anyways, Story update. Do tell your thoughts (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠).

This is very reader-included now! What a change. Just wanted to give a bit of a lore before we start going ham!! 

Might rewrite a bit though.. hm...

[pxnsneverland]

Ruthless Grace | Austin Butler x OC (part 5)

(gif source: nairobi-resources)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

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

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 2,884

warnings/notes:

Chapter 5: A Dance in the Rose Garden

Violet's fingers traced the intricate embroidery of the bedspread, each stitch a reminder of the distance between her past life and the present. The lush fabric felt foreign under her touch, almost as if it whispered secrets she wasn't yet privy to. She shivered slightly, a chill running down her spine despite the warmth of the room.

Outside, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the estate. The beauty of it all was undeniable, but beneath that beauty lurked layers of complexity that Violet knew she must navigate with care. Her survival had always depended on her ability to adapt quickly to new environments, but this was unlike anything she had ever encountered.

As darkness settled outside, a soft knock on the door startled her from her reverie. “Miss Everly?” called a gentle voice from the other side. It was Mr. Pembroke, his tone respectful yet carrying an undertone of urgency.

Violet rose swiftly and crossed the room to open the door. “Yes, Mr. Pembroke? Is there something amiss?”

Mr. Pembroke offered a small bow before answering. “No, Miss, nothing amiss. However, Lord Butler wishes to inform you that tomorrow after breakfast, he would like to give you a tour of the grounds.”

The words were straightforward, yet they hung in the air with an unspoken significance. A tour of the grounds was undoubtedly a privilege, a sign that Austin perceived her as more than just a transient guest. But Violet knew it was also a test—a way to gauge her reactions and perhaps delve deeper into her character.

"Thank you, Mr. Pembroke," she replied, maintaining her composure. "Please inform Lord Butler that I am looking forward to it."

"Very well, Miss Everly," Mr. Pembroke said, nodding once more before stepping back and closing the door gently behind him.

Left alone again, Violet's mind raced with possibilities and predictions. What did Austin hope to discover during their walk? Was it merely an act of courtesy, or did he have ulterior motives? She knew his reputation as 'The Devil Lord' was not unfounded; he was a man shrouded in mystery and darkness, capable of both immense cruelty and surprising kindness.

Sleep proved elusive that night as Violet lay in the massive bed, staring up at the shadowy ceiling. Her thoughts drifted from her father's harsh words and the despair of their dilapidated home to the opulent room in which she now resided, as if she had stepped into someone else’s life.

Morning came with a gentle intrusion of light filtering through heavy drapes, heralding a day that held unknown challenges. Violet rose, her body stiff from a night spent on the edge of slumber. Dressing quietly, she prepared herself with a meticulousness born from necessity. As she made her way down to breakfast, the house seemed to wake with her, its corridors filled with the soft sounds of servants moving ghost-like with practiced efficiency. The dining hall was vast and intimidating, its long table set impeccably with gleaming silver and delicate china. Lord Butler was already there, his presence dominating the room as he conversed softly with Mr. Pembroke.

Violet approached cautiously, her heart pounding unnervingly loud against her ribs. "Good morning, Lord Butler," she greeted him, her voice steady despite her nerves.

Austin turned towards her, his piercing blue eyes assessing her in a single glance.

"Good morning, Miss Everly," Austin replied, his voice smooth and measured. He gestured towards a chair at his right hand. "Please, join me."

As Violet moved to take her seat, the weight of his gaze felt like a tangible thing; assessing yet not entirely unwelcoming. She settled into the chair, her posture straight as a rod, acutely aware of every detail of the setting—the clink of silverware, the soft rustle of linens, and the faint aroma of freshly baked bread.

"I trust your first night in the manor was comfortable?" Austin began, breaking the slight tension that had started to coil in the air.

"Yes, thank you," Violet responded, allowing herself a small smile. "Your home is most beautiful." Her words were genuine, even if spoken from behind the mask of politeness required in such intricate social dances.

Austin nodded, seemingly pleased with her response. "I'm glad to hear that. I hope you'll find everything to your satisfaction here." His tone hinted at layers of meaning that went beyond mere hospitality.

Breakfast was served then, an array of dishes that seemed far too extravagant for just two people. Violet took small bites, her mind racing through all possible scenarios that could unfold from this enigmatic invitation. As they ate, the conversation flowed more smoothly than Violet had anticipated. Austin spoke of the estate's history and its vast lands, his words painting pictures of lush gardens, hidden paths, and ancient trees with secrets of their own. He spoke with a reverence that seemed at odds with his ruthless reputation, revealing a passion for the preservation and beauty of his surroundings.

However, beneath the casual exchange, Violet could feel the undercurrents of a deeper examination. Each question he posed, seemingly innocent, probed gently into her own history and views. It was clear he was not only interested in her as a guest but was also scrutinizing her suitability for something she couldn’t yet fathom.

"Your observations are quite astute, Miss Everly," Austin commented after she made a remark about the architectural style of the manor. "It is rare to find someone of your… background so well-versed in these subjects."

Violet met his gaze steadily, aware that this was another test in their intricate verbal dance. "I've had the opportunity to read quite a bit over the years," she replied carefully. "Books are a refuge that require no wealth to enjoy."

Austin’s eyes flickered with what might have been respect or surprise as he nodded slowly. "Indeed," he said thoughtfully.

"You've clearly made the most of those opportunities," he continued, studying her with an intensity that made her slightly uncomfortable. "Knowledge is a precious resource—one that many fail to appreciate."

The meal continued with discussions on various topics, each revealing a bit more of Austin's complexity. Violet found herself drawn to his intellect and the subtle shifts in his demeanor—how his eyes would soften when he discussed the gardens, or the rare smile that touched his lips when he recounted an amusing incident involving one of his horses.

As they finished their breakfast, Austin set down his napkin and regarded her with a calm that belied the sharpness in his gaze. "Miss Everly, if you are ready, I would like to show you the grounds now."

Violet nodded, feeling an unexpected surge of excitement mixed with apprehension. "I would be honored, Lord Butler."

“Call me Austin, please.”

His sudden informality took her aback slightly, but she masked her surprise with a nod. "Very well, Austin."

They rose from the table together, and as they stepped out into the crisp morning air, Violet felt a chill that wasn't entirely due to the weather. Austin led her down the steps of the grand manor and onto a pathway lined with ancient oaks whose branches whispered secrets of old. The estate stretched far and wide, the lush greens vibrant against the clear blue sky, and Violet couldn’t help but admire its beauty—a stark contrast to the grimy streets of her childhood.

As they walked, Austin pointed out various landmarks—a centuries-old fountain, a hidden gazebo veiled by climbing roses, and a quaint stone bridge arching gracefully over a babbling brook. With each site, he shared stories or facts about his ancestors who had lived and breathed in these lands. It was as if he was peeling back layers of himself, revealing more with each step they took together.

Violet listened intently, not just to his words but to the unspoken language of his demeanor. There was an earnestness in how he spoke of his heritage and a subtle plea for understanding in his tone that intrigued her. It was amidst these revelations and the tranquility of the verdant surroundings that they arrived at the rose garden. The garden was a masterpiece of horticultural artistry, a riot of colors that seemed to celebrate every shade imaginable. Neat rows of roses, from deep crimsons to delicate pinks, stretched out before them, their petals unfurling like the skirts of dancers at a grand ball.

Austin led Violet through an arched entryway covered with climbing ivy, into the heart of this floral paradise. “This has always been my favorite spot,” he confessed quietly, his voice carrying a tone of reverence as though he were sharing a deeply held secret. "There's something about roses – their beauty borne out of struggle against the thorn."

Viciously intrigued by his analogy, Violet reached out to touch one particularly vibrant bloom, her fingers brushing against its silky petals. It was then that a sharp pain jolted her – a thorn had pricked her finger, drawing a bead of blood that bloomed bright red against her pale skin.

Austin's reaction was swift. His hand grabbed hers gently but firmly, drawing her close to inspect the minor wound. "Allow me," he murmured, his voice low and unexpectedly warm. Before Violet could protest, he brought her finger to his lips, his eyes locked on hers. The contact was brief, his lips barely brushing against her skin, and yet it sent a wave of warmth rushing through her. The pain ceased almost immediately as if soothed by his touch alone.

Violet stared at him, her heart throbbing in her chest, unsure of how to interpret his actions. Was it merely a gentlemanly gesture? Or something more intimate, a sign of some deeper connection she was only just beginning to comprehend?

"Better?" Austin asked, his voice a soft whisper that seemed to vibrate through the air between them.

"Yes, thank you," Violet managed to reply, pulling her hand back slowly, feeling the lingering warmth of his touch. She noticed then the intensity of his gaze had softened, replaced with something more tender, more vulnerable.

"I apologize if I overstepped," Austin said after a moment, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. "It's just... I have a particular sensitivity to... blood."

His admission hung in the air, weighted with an unspoken gravity that seemed to pull more secrets into the light. Violet, though taken aback by the intimacy of his gesture, found herself curiously drawn into the depth of his confession. His vulnerability, so starkly contrasted against his usual composed demeanor, intrigued her further.

"Why is that?" she asked quietly, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest.

Austin looked away briefly, his gaze settling on the horizon where the sky met the lush greenery. When he turned back to her, his eyes held a mixture of resignation and something akin to fear. "It's a long story. Perhaps another time," he said, his voice almost imperceptible against the gentle rustle of the rose bushes swaying in the breeze.

Violet nodded, respecting his need for privacy. Yet, she couldn't deny her growing desire to understand this complex man who had unexpectedly disrupted her world. They resumed walking through the garden, their steps slow as they navigated between the vibrant displays of roses. The earlier incident had subtly shifted their rapport, weaving a thread of intimacy into their budding acquaintance.

As they continued their stroll, the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a golden glow over the estate. Austin paused by a particularly lush bush adorned with white roses, each bloom flawless and full. “These,” he said gently, “are known as the 'Queen of the Night.' Quite rare and requires careful tending.”

Violet leaned in to admire them, aware of Austin's gaze on her. “They’re beautiful,” she remarked, “but I suppose all beauty requires some form of sacrifice or care, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed, it does,” Austin agreed, a trace of melancholy threading through his words. “Much like people.” His eyes met hers again, and Violet felt a pull, an unspoken connection that was both unsettling and exhilarating.

They moved on from the rose bushes, their conversation turning towards lighter subjects. Austin inquired about her favorite books and music, and Violet was surprised to find that they shared similar tastes in literature and classical compositions. It was easy to forget his formidable reputation when he spoke so passionately about his love for Chopin’s nocturnes or his fascination with Shakespeare’s tragedies.

The morning gradually turned into afternoon as they explored the vast grounds. Their path eventually led them to a secluded pond, where the water mirrored the cloudless sky and willow trees drooped gracefully over its edges. Ducks glided across the surface, undisturbed by their presence.

“I used to come here to think,” Austin revealed as they stopped at the water's edge, watching the ripples fan out from a stone Violet had idly tossed in. “It’s one of the few places where I can find peace.”

Violet glanced at him, noting the wistfulness in his voice. “Peace seems a rare commodity in your life,” she observed softly.

Austin smiled, a rueful tilt to his lips. “Indeed, it is. But today has been an exception.” He looked at her directly, his gaze intense yet gentle. “Thank you for that.”

She felt her cheeks warm under his scrutiny, unaccustomed to such direct praise. “I should be thanking you,” Violet replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “For showing me all this... for being so kind.”

They continued around the pond, their reflections side by side in the water below. The conversation flowed easily now, bridged by a mutual appreciation for the beauty surrounding them and deepened by the emerging layers of their shared experience.

As they made their way back towards the manor, the light began to wane, casting long shadows across the lush lawns. Austin paused by a towering oak, its limbs stretching protectively overhead. "I must confess," he began, his voice hesitant. He turned to face her, his expression earnest. "I find your company... extraordinarily refreshing, Violet."

His words, though simple, carried a weight that tethered her heart to the moment, anchoring her in a mix of joy and apprehension. "And I yours," Violet responded, her voice trembling slightly with the vulnerability of her admission. She felt the gravity of their shared secret moments, each one building upon the last, creating a tapestry of unspoken understanding between them.

Just then, as the shadows grew longer and the air cooled with the approach of evening, Mr. Pembroke, Austin's stern-faced butler and confidant, appeared at the edge of the garden path. His presence was like a cold gust of wind that suddenly swept across the serene pond, disturbing the peace they had cultivated.

"Lord Butler," Mr. Pembark intoned with a respectful bow that still managed to convey urgency. "There are matters that require your immediate attention."

Austin nodded, his face tightening subtly as he turned back to Violet. "Duty calls, it seems," he said with a hint of regret.

Violet nodded, her mood shifting as she sensed the change in atmosphere. "Of course," she replied, trying to mask her disappointment with a polite smile.

While Austin departed, Mr. Pembroke lingered for a moment, his gaze meeting Violet's with an intensity that made her falter. "Miss Everly," he began in a low, gruff voice meant only for her ears. "A word of caution, if I may be so bold."

Violet felt a chill trace down her spine, her curiosity piqued. "Yes, Mr. Pembroke?"

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that barely rustled the leaves around them. "Lord Butler is not like other men, Miss Everly. There are aspects of his life that are... darker than most can fathom. Please, tread carefully."

Violet nodded, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and intrigue. "Thank you for the warning, Mr. Pembroke," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within her.

Mr. Pembroke gave her a curt nod before turning and following the path back to the manor, leaving Violet alone beside the tranquil pond. The serenity of the moment was now tinged with a shadow of mystery and danger. She wrapped her arms around herself, contemplating the enigmatic man who had so thoroughly captivated her interest.

As she walked back to the manor, Violet's thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions and questions. Austin's allure was undeniable, yet now it was colored with the stark warning from Mr. Pembroke. What secrets did Austin carry? What darkness lurked behind those intense blue eyes? And how could she, a simple girl born of hardship and survival, navigate the complexities of this unexpected world she was drawn into? Violet's mind raced with possibilities and fears as she approached the grand manor house. Its imposing stone facade, which earlier seemed to echo a kind of historic grandeur, now loomed menacingly in her eyes.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Dinner was a quiet affair; Violet found herself seated at the opposite end of the long dining table from Austin. She caught glimpses of him conversing quietly with other distinguished guests—his demeanor composed, his laughter forced. Every now and then, their eyes met across the array of crystal and silver, and Violet felt the earlier connection between them pulse like a silent heartbeat.

Stay tuned for part 6!! Click HERE to view!

Taglist: @buckysteveloki-me @imusicaddict

[pangielumix]

Dreaming of my soft romantic country wedding with red roses and baby breath flowers, a reception held in a Victorian ballroom with a golden painted ceiling, pouring champagne with my best friends and dancing with my husband in my antique dress. Waking up the next morning saying good morning my husband.

#dollete

[weeping-gospels]

Senses and other oddly specific headcanons ~

1. What does your muse smell like?

Not death, surprisingly. She goes above and beyond to rid of that horrid stench of decay. The pros of being an expert elixir brewer! Also using that shit as perfume. I’m talking DOUSING herself in it like gasoline. Her favorite choice of scents would be roses, lavender, or an earthy scent. These will all be given a distinct smell of fire as well due to her element — so. Charred earth. Burnt botany.

2. What do your muse’s hands feel like?

Her hands are almost always hidden by gloves to give them the artificial warmth a living creature would possess. Her body is frozen cold with visible veins.

3. Does your muse have a good singing voice?

Her first class of choice as a human was a bard. Prefers opera. Soft, sweet songs. Lullabies. When she carried a hatchet before Spinemangler folks nicknamed her ‘ Sleeping Hatchet ‘ . Betty still sings lullabies to herself every so often to either calm down during manic episodes or subconsciously — and on the rare occasion, to Skaven.

4. Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks?

Staring for long periods of time when observing, grinning with her fangs, rambling, her ears fidgeting. As the primal beast she grinds her teeth constantly and sometimes twitches uncontrollably. she probably has rabies honestly the fucking animal

5. What does your muse usually look like / wear?

Her usual crimson robes adorned with small, sigil - carved bells. If she’s feeling fancy she’ll wear a Victorian vampiric gown. Also red. Everything must be red.

6. Is your muse affectionate? How much? How so?

She likes to claim she isn’t but she definitely is immensely affection and touch starved. She’s constantly being ragdolled by Skaven. Searches for affection in them and 9/10 doesn’t get it. Unless it’s by Skreech, that’s different. Skreech is her big ol’ grizzly bear. 🖤

7. What position does your muse sleep in?

She doesn’t necessarily crave sleep. If she does, it’s only for a few hours — curled up in a fetal position tucked away in the shadows. She’s actually just afraid of being slain in her most vulnerable position so she’s overly careful in choosing where to rest. In closets, in the cellar, squeezed in corners, even in rooftops.

8. Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room?

Absolutely not — without her bells. If she’s in the predator mode and on the hunt then the bells are discarded and her footsteps are near mute. Walk like the dead. Lurking in the shadows, watching every step, listening to every breath, crawling along the walls and ceilings.

However if she wants to be heard then the bells are on for show and you can hear the jingling from doors over.

Tagged by: no one I’m bored

Tagging: you bitch