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chaosfae-writes · 1 year ago

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𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

premise: the lioness gnaws on her favored maiden.

pairing: yandere!cersei lannister x poc!reader

warnings: abuse of power, gender identity issues (slight, but this is cersei), wlw, dead dove smut.

ao3

a/n: although I love show cersei, she was watered down a bit. I wanted to see more of her delulu side, and exploration of her gender issues. Sansa Stark cameo! Sansa is just a baby that needs protecting! <3 anyways, enjoy! <3 do not repost my works!

Cersei Lannister doesn’t have companions.

An unruly child grew into a woman with a crude tongue. Where she lacks empathy with a blackened heart, she makes up for her beauty and charm—- that only extends so far.

Golden locks, and fair skin—- with a temper of a lion. Deludes herself that she has been deprived of her inheritance to Casterly Rock, and is the true queen majesty of all seven kingdoms.

Everything belongs to her.

Her kingdom, her brother, her children —- even you.

A possessive creature. Her love only extends to what she craves, and what she sees in herself. And whenever she senses a threat upon her possessions, that anyone could snatch away her toys —- the lioness becomes irate.

A small council, and a small flock of handmaidens. Only a handful of maids are entrusted in the queen’s space, but only one to bear witness the queen at her rawest.

You are punished by her unsought favor.

To clean her, to dress her, a vessel for her to unburden herself on you. Mistakenly you offered sympathies as a woman one day —- perhaps, too kindly.

Prior, you were just a handmaiden blending in within the palace.

The late king had struck Cersei, you catered to her. Cleaning her split lip, all you spoke was that a queen should be respected, no matter what she has uttered.

All you did was to perform your duty as the queen’s servant … no ill will. Perhaps it’s your shyness, or your taught obedience that caught Cersei’s meticulous eye.

Eventually, she demanded more of you. Requesting your presence for everything, and eventually more demanding—- more touchy.

Dressing you in her house’s colors—- gold and deep red. Adorning you with luxurious fabrics, and discreetly pinning a lion brotchee upon your shoulder. It brought a wave of embarrassment, for such clothing is above your station.

Showering you with such gifts as a king does so to his paramour. It became abhorrent at times to nearby eyes—- more than once, you caught her father’s cold glare.

Conversing with you—- or rather at you, rambling on about her fits of rage upon her father’s lack of respect, how she isn’t respected as queen, how the small folk should be kissing her feet—- or how her little brother should’ve died at the birthing bed.

Delusions of greed and arrogance woven with the silk of self-wallowing, and pity.

Always touching.

Grazing your skin by the fingertips, her breath upon the slope of your neck, gripping your mound tightly as if she possesses any ownership. Sending Bernadette —- against the maid’s growing irate —- to fetch for you almost every fortnight.

To the point where you don’t even sleep in your own chambers anymore.

The traitorous wolf is dead.

Long love the youthful stag.

A feast, a celebration held by the newly crowned king. As he cheers over the death of one of the noblest men to live. A cruel boy who immulates his mother’s strife. A feast of dancing, and platters of luxurious food, merry music and jesters.

Seated beside Cersei, as well as her other maidens Bernadette and Senelle. Carefully, your eyes float a peek at the little dove seated beside Joffrey. Sansa is now a shell of the young girl she once was. Pity dwells within you, a somber child, who’s eyes never leave her lap.

You were once that child, once hopeful, only for life to beat you as if you were nothing. Life doesn’t spare the young, age has no limits.

You’re picking at the fruits and meats on your plate, rather bored at the royal nonsense. Gossip among ladies, and redundant chatter of politics among the lords —- it doesn’t pertain to you.

Never has, never will.

As a young girl, it bothered you. How unfair it was that the town folks suffer, as the noble float above the clouds with fine clothing, unending platters of food, and spoiled beyond their dreams.

Now, it doesn’t matter. The bitterness doesn’t matter. Grief to spite, to then an achromatic sense of life. You learned that you are no different than these flocks —- we all are born, then we die all the same, buried in the same soil we go.

But fantasies of escaping to the East, to the land of your ancestors —- to start anew keeps you hopeful. Meet someone, have a babe or two. Live on a farm fruitful of crops.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t sense a presence looming nearby, ever so watching, gawking at its prey.

“May I have this dance?” A voice soaked in sultry warmth, beckoning and confident. Startling you to jump just a bit, turning over your shoulder, standing above you, is Jaime Lannister. Gold yellow hair, smooth and silky, and a confident smirk to match.

“Lord Commander.” You speak in a gasp, bowing your head respectfully. Jaime’s smile twitches, growing wider—- Lord Commander —- not many address him as such. It’s always Kingslayer , never an ounce to respect.

“May I have the pleasure of a dance?” Jaime’s tone is more smoother, his canines flashing as if he’s ready to bite.

Cersei’s eyes narrow, “Jaime, let her be.” She tries to keep her voice low. Jaime scuffs playfully, “ And why? All these squawking hens must be such a bore.” He turns to you with a boyish grin, making you laugh softly.

All it does is make Cersei more annoyed. She has been upset all evening—- rather all day. Cersei found you earlier in the morning tending to Sansa. The little girl was bruised and broken by the mongrel of Cersei’s beastly son.

Tending to Sansa felt wholesome, it filled a void inside you. Reminded you of how it felt to be a mother again.

It irritated something in Cersei, to see you so kind to another.

“Thank you, Ser,” You cautiously say, you can feel Cersei’s tension. Doe eyes flutter back to Jaime, “But there are more gracious ladies who are more suited for your hand.”

Jaime tsks at your rejection. “ Nonsense. These birds are not to my taste.” He out-stretches his hand, not taking no for an answer.

Hesitantly, you take his hand, his fingers curl around, no space for escape. Jaime guides you by the feet, feeling the heat of anxiety flood your flesh, as if you felt the thousands of gazes in your direction.

But—- the daggers lodging themselves in your back were from a pair of greens.

A clunky sway between four feet, it’s quite difficult to catch up to Jaime’s step. Unaware at first to steady yourself; Jaime takes this to his advantage, slithering his palm to the nape of your tailbone, luring you into him.

Muttering low, “Follow my lead.” Jaime whispers. Slowing his footfalls, you follow his pace. Clenching your jaw, rather upsetting to be in this position, in the hands of a noble —— in such a vulnerable display.

“I am afraid I won’t be much of a dancer,” Your eyes glued to your feet, a little flumpily. “I haven’t had lessons.” Not daring to glance upward at his intense eyes.

“And weren’t taught lessons on manners.” Jaime jests, earning your head to snap up swiftly, now eye to eye, with a frightened stare of a doe. “Have I offended you, Ser?” Your eyes wearily gaze down.

Jaime chuckles, “There it is again,” his finger curls under your chin, making you look at him in the eye. “Most of the dance, you have not addressed me with so much as a glance.”

You hum, eyes downcasted to the flooring. “My apologies, I am accustomed to not stare too long at the noble.” Swapping harshly, your throat clenching a little.

“Mousey little creature, you are.”

You breathe a titter, bowing your head still, “The bored lion plays with the mouse.” Shyly staring at your feet, careful not to step on his toes.

“Bored isn’t the word.” Jaime whispers, tilts his head closer, attempting to catch your eyes. He leans in your space, you can feel his warmth beat against your face. His nose is just inches from yours.

“Merely curious.” Jaime teases. “My sister has had many maidens, but never any has been beautiful.” He has always snuck glances.

Your eyes slowly gaze up, fully taking in his golden hue.

A natural skin of rich brown —- not many folk in the West possess such color, he can tell you are not of Andal birth. Your flesh shines as sun brown, and curly tresses brushed back to a gold thin lined headdress.

You hum low, not intrigued in his antics, your mind is too preoccupied by another twin —- one who is more meaner.

“You hide yourself in plain cloth, dare to deprive a man?” He chuckles, but his eyes are heavy with need. A simple dress of royal blue—- not the colors of the house you serve, it doesn’t shape your bodice, nor do you seek for it to.

“There is nothing beneath to be desired.” You snip softly. A ripple of fear shivers your flesh, sneaking glances over Jaime’s shoulders. Barely a glimpse at the royal table, a flash of angry green eyes burns you.

“I beg to differ.” His voice pulls you back, eye to eye now. Jaime swirls your bodice around, his open palm tight on your tailbone. Sending a shiver upon the curve of your spine, never been touched by a man.

“My sister has kept you all to herself, I’m envious.” Jaime holds you to his chest, heavy breathing collides. “You tend to her hand and foot—- is there any way you can tend to my needs?” A smirk curls on Jaime’s mouth, ready to sink his teeth.

“When I am cold in my grave.”

“A knight and a handmaiden,” Jaime’s shrugs his head, “A sight all too common.” Gesturing to this as it could be a casual affair. He enjoys your bite, so used to the familiarity of women throwing themselves at him, such easy prey to play with, but he rejects them all.

This is new, a fun game.

You admittedly enjoy his touch, Jaime is breath-taking. Golden honey hair, a strong beautiful sculpted nose, and beautiful green hues.

“I must behold my reputation.” You said in a hush, “I am a lady in your sister’s circle, it would be improper to entertain her brother—- a Lord Commander no less.” You hum low, a small twitch of a smile.

Before Jaime could speak, you catch a glimpse of an ornery glare from a distance, burning with fury. The boldness fades on your lips, but confidence still lingers.

“Doesn’t your oath forbid you of any intimacy?” You jest with him, but your mind is still wondering for Cersei, as well as making sure your feet are coordinated.

You’re nearly breathless, and frightened.

Jaime feigns shock. “My oath won’t be burdened nor broken, if it is kept a secret.” He twirls you again among the sea of dancing lords and ladies. “Secrets can be delicious.” He whispers a wisp into the shell of your ear.

“Even poison can be enticing.” You tilted your chin at him, Jaime smiles, his hands circle your waist even closer to himself. His thumb stroking against your waist.

The environment blurs for a moment, it feels nice. To be treated with kindness, and gracious banter. To not be touched so harshly. But simultaneously, it’s all too much. As if a foreigner in unknown land, touch such as this is—- new.

“How could anyone deny themselves pleasure? Even if it’s —- dangerous?”

You gasp, mouth agape, for once, you didn’t have a snip to his flirtations. Jaime hums a chuckle, “Why, has the mouse lost her tongue?”

“I—”

“The Queen is ready to retire for the evening.” Bernadette’s voice floats behind you, and you thank the Gods above for her —- for just a moment. To be freed from this burning grasp.

“A thousand apologies, Ser. I must tend to—”

“My sister… yes. ” There is a mirth to his tone, mischievous. His eyes stare as if he knows something, toying with it his tongue.

“Yes…” You nod with a timid smile. You bow your head to him, grabbing the skirt of your dress, “I am grateful for the honor of a dance, Commander.” Jaime’s mouth is agape, and genuinely it spreads to a wanton smile.

“ Jaime.”

You gasp a breath, eyes taken back. Jaime grabs your hand into his, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

“Please call me Jaime.” His eyes are pleading, almost glassy. You blink, a simper of appreciation. A royal has never been so amiable with you. Always ‘my lord’ this, and ‘my lady’ that.

“Thank you, Jaime.” You say, a human sensation of appreciation is twinkling like feathers in your belly. It feels nice.

A cough emits behind you. You close your eyes —- it’s time. Lashes blink back, “I must go.” Feet backpedals, hands slowly slip from the warmth of his fingers.

“Yes, you must go.” Jaime says coyly.

Oval nails slip back to your stitching, you twirl around to walk behind Bernadette. Duckling footfalls in line, as Bernadette walks with a hast stride, slinking through the dancing bodies.

“Our majesty is very impatient.” Bernadette’s voice is snarky, as if she chastises a child.

When has she ever not been?

All you can do is strum in agreement.

As you both reach the king’s high table, you catch Cersei’s eyes. Envy as green as her hues, mouth wrinkled. Immediately she stands from her chair, bidding her son a good evening —- all he does is give her a wave and a cantankerous smile, too busy boasting with low lords.

You immediately follow behind Cersei’s trail, biting your tongue, the edge of your jaw clenching in unbridled anger.

Bernadette is not far behind, trying to level at Cersei’s shoulders, but Cersei snappily dismisses her with a flick of her wrist.

Bernadette is sent away to her own rooms, much to her dismay.

The lioness is prowling.

Foaming at the maw.

Cersei walked with a firm gait. Her hands clasped over each other, her lips twitching; her brocade fabric sways against the flooring. Her brother —- her lover, and her maiden in such a display.

The walk back to her chambers is eerily quiet. Anxiously your fingers fiddle with your rings, as your belly is churning as slippery eels.

Hastily, you grasp the large oak brown door handles, opening it wide for her—- hopefully pleasantries can ease the tension.

Without a look at you, Cersei immediately walks into her chambers. Harsh fingers tugs at her dress collar, Cersei’s back to you. Routine is often instructed to undress her, but she isn’t thrilled to be touched yet.

“Prepare my bath.” She demands, without even looking at you. “Yes, your Majesty.” You speak in a strain. Rolling your sleeves up to the joints of your elbows.

In the washroom, you fill the tub with warm water that has been on flame for awhile. Carefully, you begin to pour in scented oils, put her bar of soaps on the dish tray, and a rag over your forearm.

Cersei strides to the room, only in a crimson robe, with golden threads. Her face is cold, frozen in disgust.

Ungraciously Cersei drops her robe, it glides down her arms. She steps out of the bundle of fabric, and into the steamy bath. The routine commences—- you have it ingrained on what she likes.

As you kneel, Cersei untangles your headdress uncouthly, letting it fling to the floor, your hair flows down your shoulders. You resume your duty, as if nothing happened.

You unclasp her hair from the gold clips, softly caressing her skull. Untangling her swirls, and unclipping her jewelry. Tenderly, you knead the nape of her neck, to the slope of her throat, to her collarbones.

Cersei moans, closes her eyes in content, but she won’t be manipulated by your touch.

Her eyes flicker open.

“Bring me wine.” Curt and sharp. A dismissive wave of her hand. You stand up from your knees, grabbing the wine jug, pouring the dry sweet Arbor wine into her cuppee.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Cersei asks, if possible, the heat of her jealousy can boil the bath. Hesitant, you cautiously say, “Yes, the Lord Commander is a gracious dancer.” You offer her the goblet.

“Formalities,” Cersei chuckles, her head bobs tipsily, “ Ser… Lord… ” Her laugh dies, with a frown, “—with how you were fondling him, might as well refer to him by his name.” Her voice is sharp. She snatches the cuppee from your hand.

“I wouldn’t dare to speak to him so formally.” You say, sinking into yourself more and more. You resume cleaning her, trying to get through the night.

“Is it men you seek for?” Cersei asks, twisting the cuppee between her fingertips. You shake your head, “No, your grace.”

“No?” Cersei’s voice rises in pitch, almost mockingly.

“I do not seek companionship.” You peek through your lashes, trying to keep your composure. As a fawn caught by the hands of a hunter.

A thread snaps in Cersei’s mind at those words.

“If I bore a cock, perhaps you would be enticed.” Cersei hissed, her milky fingers clenching her gold cuppee. Her voice slithers into an incoherent mumble, ‘If I was born a son, we would be wedded.’

Her drunken vulnerability turns sour once more.

An empty malicious thought plagues Cersei.

“The Mountain has a taste for sweet gentle creatures—-” Cersei whispers, fiddling with your sleeve. “He would eat you alive.” An airy laugh escapes her, head reclines. She’s rambling poison, trying to hurt you, as if you have pained her in return.

“Perhaps then your whorish behavior would then be satisfied.” Cersei growls into her drink.

You remain mute, not daring to speak in your defense. It’s better fitted to let her ramble in her delusions. Cersei’s eyes spark again, feline eyes stare at you.

“Remember what he did to our late Princess Elia Martell? That was just sport for him.” Her face morphed to a devilish grin, hazy eyes sharply baring into your wet doe ones. The threat is clear, but you don’t catch the bait.

“All of the realm recalls the tragedy.”

Cersei’s face falls a bit, her smile morphs to a frown, her eyes narrow spitefully. She hoists her slender leg up, splashing her bath water everywhere, even drizzling your fabric, and face; earning a flinch. Your eyes scrunches shut, from the swash.

“Scrub.”

Gently you resume washing Cersei. The wash cloth soaps her skin, avoiding her lower regions, not daring to touch her —- it will only spark her. You save that task for last.

Cersei gulped down her wine, the warm twang floods her blood, and her mean strike.

Cersei calms for a moment, her eyes staring yards away. Finally, her body is cleaned, and you cautiously dove your hand into the soapy water, scrubbing her mound. You can feel her pubic hair through the rag. Out of instinct, Cersei bucks her hips against your palm.

Cersei moans happily.

“My brother desires you.” Cersei slurs, just a little. Staring into her wine, her fingernail scraping against the gold engraving. She speaks in a manner as if she talks to herself. You ignore her, swallowing harshly. Cersei is bristling, you prepare yourself —- for the outburst.

Her wet hand reaches for your hair, waves of midnight brown. Her fingers fiddle with the tresses, coiling into a makeshift fist.

“Pretty little thing…” Cersei deadpans, her pink mouth purses. She tugs downward, causing you to wince. And without any hesitation, her back hand swacks your cheek, sending you to crash into the flooring.

That was Cersei at her gentlest.

Cersei stands from her tub, her tuft of hair in view, nose down at your pitiful state. Crumpled onto the floor, cheek swelling, wet moon eyes —- fragile and broken, just how Cersei likes it.

“My husband wasn’t so kind.” Cersei spits, “He didn’t grant me such mercy.” Cersei’s bare foot grazes against your belly, slightly pushing. Towering over you as if you were a mere worm.

The late king was a brute, harshly thrusting his drunken rage onto Cersei. His swollen belly crushed her, and to add salt to the wound, after violating her body, he would whisper Lyanna in her ear.

“Undress.” Cersei seethes.

Shakily, you untie your dress, one shoulder at a time. “If you dare lay with Jaime—- or with any man, I will cut that tongue out of your little head.” Cersei clicks her tongue, “But oh, that tongue of yours is too delicious. It would be a waste.”

You slip out of your dress, with only a simple white cotton undergarment. Cersei snags your cloth, tearing it to thin ripped shreds, ‘as so a man would’ , Cersei thinks.

Cersei kicks the cotton against the floor by her foot, as you stand shivering under her watchful gaze.

“Kneel.”

As you kneel onto the chilled flooring, Cersei waltz to the bedding, leaning onto her spine, her legs spreading as if she’s presenting a feast.

Crawling on all fours as a dog, head bowing, nose flaring to maintain a steady pace of breath. Closer and closer now, you can feel the heat from her thighs, a natural essence emits from her mound, damp and fresh with herbal water.

Cersei’s fingers sought through your hair, fondling your scalp; guiding you further into her.

Your nose goes against her pelvic bone, her blonde tuft of hair envelopes your entire mouth, tickling your skin. Cersei’s fingers interwoven with your curls, tugging against your scalp sharply now, tight at the roots.

You catch yourself voluntarily suckingly her clit into the cave of your mouth. Sloppily nibbling and licking her folds.

Suckling her mound, mouth latched onto her as if savoring a succulent fruit. Your nose pinned against her hair, all that can be heard is the echo of your tongue lapping. Cersei’s grip is woven tight, it feels like pricking needles against your skull.

Cersei hisses through her teeth, legs spreading wider, hips thrusting against your mouth. Completely at her mercy, her palms holding your head, struggling to breathe, as her cunt is spilt and soppy against your mouth.

Hair not as dark as Robert’s but thick as his once was in his youth, it stirs something in Cersei. As a pot boiling at the rim, she snaps.

“If I was born a son,” Cersei shouts, nearly at her peak, thrashing you off of her. Wiping your mouth by the back of your hand, it glistens with Cersei’s slick.

“Perhaps then, I would have my way with you, not in such a secret!” How dare Jaime try to sway you in his bed, although Cersei warms it herself.

“Fuck you on the hill of Casterly Rock!”

Cersei isn’t always this cruel. Sometimes, she can be kind, and gracious —- as much as she can. Find the humor and joys in her privileged life. When she isn’t drunk, when she can hold a conversation—- she is tolerable.

That Cersei is ‘sweet’ , and in those sparse moments, you can forget that you are merely a servant, and she is the Queen.

“On the bed.” Barking orders as if she is a commander on the battlefield. As you crawl onto the mattress on all fours, Cersei serves herself a handful of your ass, fingers digging.

A pregnant pause.

“Do you desire my brother?” Do you desire a man?

Your face wrinkles in a silent sob, shaking your head, “No, your grace.” Bowing your head down in-between your arms.

“Do you not find him attractive?” Cersei goads, her finger tracing between your cheeks. “No—” a whack against your backside, causing you to wince in pain.

“As children, many couldn’t tell Jaime and I apart.” Cersei says, as she relishes in the blooming heat of your ass. “We mirror each other in so many ways.”

Even both acquire the same appetites.

“You insult him, you insult me.”

“What do you most yearn for in this life?” Cersei asks, tracing your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“I have no ambitions.” You tiredly say. Sucking in your lips into your mouth, tasting your tears. Blindly blinking with damp lashes. Cersei ignores it, humming low in her throat.

“Every little girl has dreams,” Cersei goades, hovering over your spine, her mouth edging near the shell of your ear. In a warm whisper, “to seek for a prince to whisk them away. Surely I did. ” Her pink tongue slithers, and kitten licks your ear, the warmth jolting a shiver to your mound.

Cersei’s mouth trails down from your cheek, to the slope of your neck, leaving behind open kisses. Scraping the skin of your shoulder with her teeth, nipping here and there —- as if an animalistic urge to tear you apart has overtaken her.

“To be Lady of Casterly Rock, is that what you want?” Cersei says, sitting up again, smacking your back, she hums at your whence.

“I do not yearn for a title,” You wail, speaking through choked tears. “I serve only you.” Wrinkling the satin sheets, bunched between your fingers. Strands of hair cling to your tear stained cheeks.

Cersei plunges her fingers into your cunt, making you cry out. “Does this cunt serve me as well?” Tight walls sucking her fingers in, velvety cave explored.

Intrusive thoughts plague her mind. Images of Jaime crawling and ravishing your body; kissing, biting, and licking. It drives her mad—- with lust. She yearns for it to be three of you.

He is hers, and you are hers.

But what if you two convalude with each other? To leave her behind? To have a life together? An intimacy she has no space to shoulder herself in.

“You plot against me—” Cersei yells, her chin wobbles. Any inkling of logical reason is dwindling now. “Where do you go at night?” She interrogates, nose flaring.

“You slip through the walls, parade yourself for the guards?” She spoke through the cage of her teeth.

“I do not conspire against you, Cersei.” You shrivel, trying to inch further into the bed. “I do not want a life as such with Jaime, I desire to stay here …” you swallow a sob, “in the Red Keep with you.”

That is not enough.

You are Robert, and she wants to hurt you—- sex is electric, or it can be painful. She will fuck you as Robert —- this is what men do. Powerful men take what they want, this is what her father would do —- take, take, take, take ! Power, fear! Take all that she desires, take what she loves—

Love?

Affection isn’t a foreign concept to Cersei, but it isn’t something she gives freely. Only threads of herself can feel her love.

Cersei exhales deeply, trying to organize her thoughts.

Her eyes open blankly, one closes lazily after the other.

“I can see it now,” Her voice is hushed. “A Lannister wedding. Lavish as it can be. Gold it shall be.” Cersei’s head glances down, with an unhinged smile.

“I take Jaime as my husband, and you as my paramour.” Her head is swimming, the wine has sunk her even deeper. “Or perhaps, you as my bride. Oh —- how my father would throw a fit.” Cersei slurs and chuckles as a child.

“If only I was a man,” Cersei leans her body down, engulfing your body into hers. “We would live here, as a man would not be questioned on how many mistresses he possesses.” Her slender fingers creepily slip near your ass.

Guiding the slope of your under thigh between her legs, resting her cunt on your kneecap. The soft tuft of blond hair tickles your bare skin, grinding herself.

Soft wet slick sounds fill your ears, as her fingers grip and tug on the meat of your ass. Her hips are thrashing a bit more harsher now.

Her milky hands slither up the hill of your navel, cupping the weight of your under breast; twirling your brown nipple between her fingertips, twisting.

You hiss at the sting, as she relishes in your distress. Cersei bows her head into your chest, swallowing your breast into her mouth. Her tongue lapping at your nipple, her ivories nibbling and tugging harshly against the skin.

Violently suckling your tit, as you twitch and gasp; worried she might bite it off by the teeth. Despite the astringent offense upon your body, the wave of pleasure cascades you.

Skin breaks into bruises, as you twitch. Sensations of pain and pleasure blur, confusion and ecstasy. Without thought, your fingers caress Cersei’s hair.

Cersei’s mouth releases your breast with a wet pop. A tint of burgundy against the brown of your skin, a reddish ring encircling your nipple. Her puss leaves your knee.

The tip of Cersei’s tongue glides down the path of your belly, down to your navel, to finally your pubic bone. Her warm breaths tickle you.

Raspy moans escape from Cersei, as she slowly licks your mound. Plump, and soft. Flickering with her pink tongue, teasing you.

Her green eyes watch you, as her tongue slips through your folds, tasting you. Delving deep, to your puckering hole. Fucking you with her tongue, no matter how much you fight yourself, the sensation of her mouth on you always sends sparks.

Wetness echoes, as her cheeks puff up against your mound. You move your hips down, fucking yourself on Cersei’s mouth. Slamming your hand against your bedding, gripping the sheets between your roving fingers, as undignified grunts leave your lips.

Cersei admires your heaving bare breasts.

The lioness is selfish—- her mouth leaves you. You whine, stiffly leaning back. Her mouth is damp with your essence. With a harsh slap on your cunt, and another. Cersei finds her enjoyment in your misery, as you mutter for more.

“Pathetic little mercies.” She taunts you.

Silently, Cersei kneels once more, twirling her legs. Lifting your knee upward, over her shoulder, along with your other leg underneath her.

Both of your puss connect, dripping with want. Panting, and sweating, only grunts are in conversation. Your hair is messy, damp baby hairs cling to your forehead.

Cersei’s milky fingers hold the flesh of your thigh, as she rides your cunt with hers. Spilt wet clits, dancing together. Electric sensation that pulls the silky moans from you, as Cersei rides you fast.

Your fingers daringly hold her jiggling ass, fondling her asshole. Toying with it. Cersei squeals at the intrusive touch. A primal surge takes hold of you, placing your fingers into the cave of your mouth, soaking in your saliva.

Your hand cups Cersei between her ass, fiddling the bridge between her asshole to her gaping pussy hole. Her head falls back, as you plunge your fingers inside of cunt.

Her golden hair is loose and disarrayed. Cascading down her face, a lion reduced to a whimpering kitten. Your leg twitches against her chest, Cersei bites at your calf dully.

Your toes curl and flex, as the pit of your belly is unfurling. A choppy high-pitched moan spews from you, your head digging back into the pillows.

Cersei shrills a yes , as her climax reaches itself to the heavens. Bruising your thigh under her fingers. Cumming together, Cersei grinds herself onto you, connecting together, with no space of separation.

Clits throbbing against each other, stinging pleasure. Riding your highs, gently thrashing her clit against yours, earning airy moans. The tuft of her pubic hair against yours fuels the sensation.

Cersei moans delightfully, satisfied with herself. Her body towers over yours, crawling into your heaving arms; not caring of the dewy sheen of sweat that covers your body.

Legs interlocking together, as she pulls you into her arms fully. Turning herself onto her side, her knuckles stroking your hip.

These are the sparse moments you enjoy with Cersei. When she is human, when she relishes in touch, rather than harshness.

“Jaime should not be burdened with duties of the King’s Guard.” Cersei whispers. “He needs a bride. Father is aging, and one day, Castlery Rock will be in need of a lord.” She is mumbling now, mostly to herself.

“That disease of my little brother will defile us with his whores.” Hate spills from her naturally, as it always does.

Her voice trails into silence, her fingers snagging onto your flesh, pulling you closer to her.

Sleep takes Cersei, sinking into the mattress. Paralyzed in her hold until slumber overtook you as well.

The morning sun shone through the windows, baring its light onto your eyes. Rubbing your eyes by the heels of your palms, sinking deeper into the blanket furs.

The hinges of the chamber doors creak, jolting you further into reality, eyes heavily leaning to shut closed. Clicks of heels follow, and a hum.

“It seems the morrow has escaped us.” Her voice is light, cheery even. Not an inch of maligne in her infliction. It’s eerie how the mask can slip on and off—- a performance.

Cersei leans, invading your space, seating upon the mattress. Her eyes lower, and darken. How easily eerie her charm and spite can transmute to one entity.

“If I were to find you in the arms of another,” Cersei says, her voice on edge, taking one step closer, her lips stretch into a gritted wolfish grin. “I will gladly brand your cunt with the sigil of my house.” Her green eyes unflinching, her lips smirking devilishly.

Silence prevails, your hair cascaded against your face. Barely hiding your shame, you subtly nod; submitting to her demanding presence.

Cersei smirks, “Good.” The lioness prowls around her chambers, licking your blood off her paws. A victorious slaughter, a fragile doe locked in her cave, with broken limbs—- and a broken spirit.

Peace and quiet.

You inhale a deep breath, as it floods your cavity. Solitude has finally granted itself upon you, away from the yaws of the lioness.

Flexed fingers stroke against the wall, basking in the brisk air. The balcony’s view is marvelous. Unclipping your cleavage, so the breeze can grace your breasts, and sweep against your scalp.

Cersei had taken her leave for a meeting with the king’s council. And surely, no mere maid is allowed in such a space.

Away from her suffocating touch, you can relax in your own skin. A thought comes to you, there are a handful of empty rooms to explore. Your feet carry you down the corridors.

Without thought, searching for an empty chamber, you find one. With the tug of the knobs, you walk freely inside—- only to be greeted with whisking reddish hair.

A gasp catches itself in your mouth, holding your stomach, kneeling legs curtsying in respect.

“Lady Sansa.” You bow your head dutifully. “A thousand apologies, I didn’t intend to intrude.” As your feet backpedal to the entrance, a soft whisper calls.

“Please stay.”

And just like that, her sweet child voice sweeps you.

“Oh, little wolf.” You pinch the fabric of your dress, lifting as you walk with haste. The instinct to hold Sansa over took you. Sitting on her mattress, engulfing her in your arms, quickly her red hair melts against the sapphire threading of your dress.

Sansa’s head is tucked in the crook of your shoulder. Quietly sobbing, her delicate fingers grip against the base of your back, as would a cub cling to its mother’s teat.

Caressing her hair, you shush her softly, rocking her back and forth. “I’m scared.” Sansa’s words are muffled, vibrating against you. “I want to go home.” She wails, mewling.

“My sweet girl, how I long for you to be safe.” You whisper, “I’m so sorry for what has happened.” You kiss her head, muttering apologies into her hair, hoping your kindness weaves itself into her hair, and stays for a rest.

The morrow stretches into noon, as you watch over Sansa. Comforting her in placid silence, brushing her hair. Humming a melody, as your fingers thread intricate braids within her auburn flaming hair.

This feels like home again.

Outside of these walls, both are prisoners within a castle. But here, in this moment, is a woman, and a child. Reliving memories past, as a mother, and as a daughter—- through each other.

To heal these wounds, as mother and daughter.

Just for a moment.

#chaosfae writes #yandere cersei lannister x reader #wlw #yandere game of thrones #a longish drabble #I got ahead of myself though #can this even be considered a drabble anymore???😭#this is not drabble anymore💀#I just kept adding and adding omg #enjoy!<3

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ja3hwa · 2 years ago

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Day 25 : Manhandling/Strength Kink - Yunho

「Title」 : Figure You Out

「Word count」 : 2.71k

-> Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst, Mafia Au

Paring: Mob Boss!Yunho x Reader

[Warnings] : Mention of mafia work. Daddy issues. Mention of death. And dead husband.. Insecurities. San and Wooyoung have a little cameo. Making out. Hickeys. Fingering (f receiving). Some clit play. Panties breaking. Beefy 6'5 Yunho (cause that's a warning). Soft but rough sex. Emotions are all over the place and it's just a big mess. Dirty talk. Swearing. Sir kink. Sub reader. Soft Dom Yunho. Slight choking. Let me know if I missed anything.

Note: Since a lot of people wanted a part 2. Hwre ya go ♡♡

February Filth Fest Event Day Calendar

Reader Part One -> [Here]

You couldn’t understand why you were tossing in your sleep, unable to find a peaceful slumber. Opening your eyes suddenly, you look around the dark room. Sweat covered your body making your bed sheets stick to your flesh. Thoughts were running on overdrive in your brain. You couldn’t help it. Once you realized that you want the only thing you’ve only known and seen in your life it scared you… A relationship that your father has. Unloving. Being thrown around and manhandled. It shocks you. You tried so hard to be different, not following the path of your family. But yet you seem to crave the cruel side of life. Maybe you were more like your father than you wished.

“Miss Park…” You heard a small voice echo beyond your bedroom door. The door opens ajar, letting the light from the outside pool inside. You hummed letting the person who owned the voice know your presence. It still felt weird, to hear people reference you by your born name again. Park… Not Kim. It almost made you feel like you were widowed. Well, I guess that wasn’t so far from the truth.

“I heard a commotion. Are you okay ma’am?” The fragile little maid that normally cleans the house while everyone is sleeping, comes in with concern on her face. You felt embarrassed really, she must have heard your night terrors.

“I’m fine. Just a bad dream.” Your voice was groggy, scratchy like you’d been screaming for hours.

“Would you like me to find Mr Jeong? His meeting should be finished―Oh no, no that won't be necessary.” You cut her off with a small―but fake―smile. She nodded with a slightly breathy ‘okay’ before taking her leave. And like that, you were in the dark again, quiet, lonely.

“Fuck….” You mutter under your breath, leaning over to grab your phone on the side table. It was three in the morning and you spot a miss call from none other than your father, probably wanting to discuss the fact you disappointed him yet again. Staring up to the ceiling for a moment you decided whether to bite the bullet or not, calling him back… You lazily throw your phone behind you, choosing to let him wait.

You slip on some pants before heading out the door. Walking down the hall you find yourself at the door of the large meeting room. You knew Yunho was inside, hearing banter coming from behind the oak framing. You wanted to see him, seemingly craving his touch. It's only been a couple of weeks since the night at the gala, and you still haven't made anything official. You needed to stay at your estate until you could tell your family you weren't planning on marrying Lucas. Even though you both would have loved to move in together straight away, having these ‘sleepovers’ seemed like the only option for the moment.

Reputation was something everyone cared about in this field. And being painted as a slut while Yunho would be painted as a homewrecker. Neither of you wanted that. So why were you standing out the door of a meeting room filled with gang members that would spill your secret the minute they found out? You couldn’t answer that question even if you tried.

“This is stupid.” you chuckled. Were you really that desperate for him that you were going to expose yourself? You just might be. But before you could do anything the door opened, revealing a tall slim man with dark-pitched hair. His features were one of a feline description. His eyes creased with half moons as a smile grew on his face. You gulped taking a step back slightly from him.

“Well hello there.” He bent down slightly so he could take a better look at you. His eyes racked over your form making you slightly uncomfortable, but he stood back within the second, fixing his tie as he stood up straight. “So this is the one huh?”

Before you could even say anything Yunho steps out from behind him. A smile painted him, with a loving glint in his eyes. He pushes passed the other man, hooking his arm around your waist. You were a bit shocked at his bold movement but your anxiousness dies when another man speaks.

“So this is the woman that has captured our leader's heart.” A Shorter more giddier man cheered from behind the two. You looked up at Yunho seeing a grumbling expression suddenly appear on his face. His grip was tighter on you, pulling you closer. Your hands land on his chest feeling yourself slightly trip. you were becoming slightly overwhelmed, especially when you realise you were underdressed. God, you feel dizzy.

“Let’s give my girl some space huh?” Yunho pushes his members away, walking back down the hall with you while they all started yelling, asking questions about you and dropping phases along the lines of ‘but I want to know the details’, ‘do you treat her well?’ and more mumbles that were merely not safe for work. But you couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the hand wrapped around your hips and the other closed around your wrists. His grip was strong and the tug on your body was enticing. Your body was craving more, to be roughed with. What was wrong with you?

You rip your wrist from his hand and he lets go easily with a slight stab in his heart. He felt like he might have hurt you as if you’d just slapped him non-verbally. Both of you are in shock at your reaction, not knowing what came over you.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks quickly and sincerely. God, you don’t deserve him. What have you ever done to deserve him?

“Yes, I’m okay,” you answer softly. “I just… I,” You trail off realizing you can’t find your words. What do you say? I want you to treat me like all those other men? I want you to throw me down and fuck me? Hah! You can’t. But it's Yunho. He wouldn’t hurt you even if you asked. Would he? He walked ahead of you opening the door to the bedroom but not going inside. Instead, he stood by the door, waiting for you with a hand out for you to take.

“Whatever you want.” You took his hand and he pulled you slightly. “Whatever you need.” he kissed your forehead. “ I’ll make it happen.” Silence fell as he tugs you inside, closing the door behind you. You placed your hand on his cheek, looking at him with tears threatening to escape. A smile broke on when a tear fell, making him surge with worry, but it soon fell away when you whispered.

“I want to be loved. I want to know what that feels like.” You lent into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. He strokes your head softly, swaying you slowly, comforting you.

“I can do that.” He whispered in your ear.

“But,” You pull away slipping your fingers through the button loops of your sleep shirt, unbuttoning them while staring at him. “I want to feel the cruelness.” The fabric slips off your shoulders before it falls onto the floor leaving your top half bare. His expression turns to one of filth and lust, curiousness wonder as to what you might be up to.

“What are you saying, doll?” He tilts his head, licking his lips. His gaze watches your body as he steps closer to you, but you step back, until the edge of the bed hits the back of your legs.

“I want to feel something. Anything. Even if its pain.”

Oh, your words just clicked something in him. His heart quickened, and his breathing hitched. As if you couldn’t get more perfect because even though you thought he was soft and caring, he did, after all, have a dark side. A cruel side. That’s what made him the perfect leader in one of the best gangs in Seoul. He didn’t speak, not when excitement riddled his nerves, instead he bent down wrapping his arms around your legs. Lifting you up before throwing you lightly on the bed. You gasped at his actions, watching as pillows bounced off and the sheets crumpled under your body. He chuckled watching your expression change from desperation to slight shock. He took off his suit jacket and belt swiftly. His eyes never left yours. He tilted his head upwards in a bob motion, gesturing for you to take the rest of your clothes off. And of course, you listen, hooking your fingers under the hem of your sleep shorts. But you leave your panties on, crossing your legs with a smirk. If he wanted them off, he’d have to take them off himself.

“I’ve been thinking…” He slipped his shirt off, leaving himself in only his boxers. “about all the little things that you've been missing” He crawled onto the bed sitting on his knees just by the edge, just watching you with an unreadable expression. He leaned forward slowly, like an animal stalking his prey. His fingers wrapped around your crossed ankles before he harshly tugged them on either side of his thick thighs. You slide fast against the silk sheets until your ass gently hits his knees.

“Hi.” He leans down so his face is inches from yours.

You blushed, biting your lip. You wrap your legs lazily around his waist before whispering “Hi..”

His lips locked on yours, it was slow, loving. Something you aren't used to, but yet it felt familiar. It felt safe. He leaned more into the kiss, moving so he was completely over you, his body grinding into yours. You hummed at feeling bucking your hips up slightly. He matched your movements, feeling himself get hot and bothered by it. Teeth clashed and tongue danced. His hand travels up your body before grabbing yours. Fingers intertwined together and moans grew louder making him want more. He wanted to be sweet and cruel, cause why not? He can do both. And he knows you’d love both. His free hand moved to grab the hem of your panties pulling them away from your skin before letting go, making the band snap against your flesh.

“Yun…” You moan tilting your head back, letting him latch his lips on your now-exposed neck. He sucked in a few hickeys, littering your soft skin with bright marks. Marks to show you were his. His fingers that are still hooked around your panties suddenly tug again but only this time, you hear a tear. Then a snap.

“Whoops.” He chuckles sliding the broke fabric off your body. You whimpered at this, seeing the veins on his arm. He could snap you in half if you tried hard enough and it made you wet just thinking about it. He sat up, getting off the bed completely, his boxers falling off as soon as his feet hit the ground. You sat up slightly yourself, leaning on your elbows as you watch him. “Move forward, now.”

His dominating voice enticed you, making you move forward slowly, but it seemed too slow for Yunho to take, grabbing just one ankle this time, he yanked you with force until your legs dangled over the end of the bed. His strength showed no bounds, making you question just how strong this man actually was. But that was a conversation for another time. Right now, the big beefy mob boss, watched you with fire in his eyes as he got down on his knees in front of you. His large hands gripped the back of your thighs so he could place your legs on his shoulders. The position made you feel light-headed, him being face to face with your pussy.

“I could love you with my eyes closed.” His sombre voice melted your heart, while his fingers that ran over your clit set a fire to brew in your gut. His tongue licks up your slick as he pushed two fingers inside you. You wanted to cry out, scream for him. Grabbing his hair, your body shook at his thrusts.

“I could kiss every part of your body, blindfold. And I’ll still find the parts you need me to touch most.” He wanted, no, needed to tell you how much you mattered to him. Show you how much love he wanted to give to you. Make you feel what he feels. That he’s the right man for you. The right person to love and hold you. The right person to marry.

“I have you figured out.”

You came all over his face when his thumb pushed just the right amount of pressure on your clit, making you gasp out for air. Yunho sat up without you noticing, and it wasn’t until you felt his hand graze your hips that you opened your eyes to see him towering over you. He flipped you without a sweat, pulling your ass up while your face lands on the mattress with a huff. He rubs your cheeks before giving them a slap making you grip the sheets below you while chanting his name.

“You like that Darling? You like it rough?” he slapped your redding skin again. You couldn’t answer him with words, instead, you moaned louder, arching your back so your ass would rub against his cock.

“P-Please Sir….” You didn’t mean to drop the pet name but it slipped off your tongue before you had time to think. Yunho seemed to like the nickname cause the moment he heard it leave your sweet lips, he trusted deep inside you without a second thought. His hand snaked under your body, gripping the front of your throat. He pulled your body upwards your back was flushed against his chest. His grip was tight making your head spin in the best way as the snap of his hips started to make you see stars. He had such a tight hold of you that even when your body started to feel limp, you wouldn’t move from his grasp.

“My baby, and here I thought you were innocent. It seems I got myself a filthy little wife.” He grunts in your ear making you cry out. Tears broke down your face and you feel another high coming to pass, but your brain couldn’t help but replay the words that slipped off his tongue.

“W-Wife…” You whined.

“Yes, Doll. My wife. Come tomorrow I want to propose to you, properly. Tell the world about how I shall make you my wife.” the snap of his hips come to a stop, suddenly letting go of your body, making you fall onto the bed. He flipped you over again before lining his cock with your soaked pussy, slipping in with ease. His pace was faster, and the sounds of wet skin and moans filled the room. And a sudden sound of…. wood?

You tilted your head seeing a huge spilt in the headboard. Yunho seemed to notice as well as his thrusts got hard. your hands fly to his biceps that were on either side of your head, nails digging into the flesh, threatening to draw blood. Your emotions were on overdrive, feeling yourself getting lost in complete ecstasy.

“Y-Yun I gonnn…gonna- I know baby, together okay.” He cut you off, locking his lips against yours once again. The knot in your stomach finally snapped and you tipped over the edge. Yunho wasn’t far behind, feeling his load shoot out inside you with a couple more thrusts. With each breath, his hips got slower and slower until falling to a stop. He didn’t pull out though, instead, he focused on kissing every part of skin he could reach. You lay there, letting him have his way while you feel like you are near passing out.

“You with me darling?” His voice was so soft and quiet you almost missed it, but you hummed in response once you heard him.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you…” You blurted out in between pants.

Yunho sat up coming face to face with you, gazing at you with passion, “I think I’ve fallen in love with you too…”

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velisle · 2 months ago

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ᯓ♡ not maid for love .ᐟ

𖹭 ── 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 // nika x fem!reader, 2.8k wc, sfw. 𖹭 ── 𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 // pre-relationship, reader is (in denial) crown's fairytale keeper but not kate, nika being nika, likely ooc since there's only bread crumbs of his lore, al cameo, invented side characters, harassment from non-suitor, canon typical plot. 𖹭 ── 𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 // I wish cherry boy was as popular as his twin but sadly he isn't. So here's a little something i maid for him hehe (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠).

Twilight stains the sky in a messy palette of oranges, pinks and reds. Its rays spill into a certain room, enveloping it in its warmth. It goes on to veil the pure white walls, the ink splattered papers on the table, and — the soft profile of a person.

You nervously tug at the frilly hem of your apron, throwing quick glances toward the mirror and back at yourself. The reflected figure on the clear surface is donned in a maid’s attire from head to toe.

Sighing gently, you pull and tweak on its parts. From the lacy head-dress to the ends of the creamy bow tied behind your back, and to the concealed handgun on your garter belt. At last, you twirl around a bit, making sure there would be nothing amiss.

Still, immersed in your own thoughts, you fail to notice the pair of deep ocean eyes eagerly sinking you into its depths.

Your heart leaps through your chest when the sharp wolf whistle penetrates your ears. Head whiplashing, you glare at the culprit leaning against the doorframe. A cheeky grin from the dark-haired man welcomes you.

Nica.

The two of you have been going out on awfully many missions the past few months, courtesy of his white-clad leader, who proposed that both organizations should work together. Though you suspected foul hand to be at play from your Palace Reaper as well. Why else would you find yourself tied to the frivolous German each time?

“Where are your manners?” You cross your arms as you question, displeasure evident in your posture. A small chuckle escapes him, “My bad, Miss Robin.”

He taps his knuckles on the wooden material — twice, thrice — his rings clinking against it.

“So then, may I enter?”

Was he not practically inside already?

“Go ahead.”

Nica strolls in, turning to admire the delicate crystals of the chandelier and the brilliant gold that matched the otherwise pale room. Were you a stranger to his habit of unplanned visits, you would have thought it was his first time here.

Casting you a prolonged once-over as you button up your maid cuffs, he manspreads on the rich chesterfield, sprawling an arm over the top of it.

“Sure you can play your role well, cute Robin?”

“I think we should be worried about you instead, Clever.⁽��⁾ Are you sure you'll be able to behave yourself?” You furrow your brows tensely.

The event you were going to attend was to last two days and three nights. Coupled with his charming penchant for going off script and improvising things by himself… You had a not-so-wonderful intuition that everything would eventually end up heading south.

He curves his lips impishly, visibly amused.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’ll be a good boy.”

“When pigs fly.”

“Autsch,⁽²⁾ after all the time we've spent together! I'm rather disappointed you still refuse to trust your partner in crime.”

You throw a glimpse at him from the corner of your eye. Not a tinge of sadness marred his features.

“There are,” you begin, “plenty of reasons as to why I shouldn't.”

A pervading silence follows as he falls unusually quiet. As if he were trying to figure out the convincing reason you had. The golden hour crowns him in its soft light, shadows fleeing from behind.

“Is it because I used my Curse on you before? I just couldn't help myself. We don't always have a choice, you know~”

You were not too fond of how you liked the way he drawled his words sometimes.

“Or maybe it's because I lent my hand for other uses? Buuut, I don't recall you telling me to stop,” his grin widens.

“Nica Schwartz.”

You swivel to face him, with a twitching smile and a raised nerve on your temple. The way he spoke had to be on purpose. Your mind inevitably flew into the direction he wanted.

Though you could not deny enjoying your banter with him. Few people manage to truly push your buttons — such as that cranky fairy or lascivious mirror, but never quite like the sly swan.

“Ja,⁽³⁾ Robin?” He asks in an innocent manner, which would be more befitting of his twin than himself.

“We’re running late,” you curtly state as you wrap your fingers around the handle of your leather-bound luggage. When you lifted it up, its weight dragged your hand down slightly.

You then make your way to the double doors, only to be stopped by blunt nails digging into your wrist. That and the coolness of adorned rings.

“Say, doesn't it look heavy for a little bird like you?” Nica had the sleeve of one arm rolled up, revealing the veins climbing on his skin like a vine.

“Sie könnten mich um Hilfe bitten.⁽⁴⁾”

It was not all that heavy, but who were you to refuse if he's so kind?

“Oof!”

A low, misty layer of fog covers the forest of oak trees. The wind wails a scream, tearing dead leaves from their spiny branches. One of them slams flat against the glass, which you were staring through.

Bump!

Every so often, the wheels of the crested carriage jolted when it collided with the rocks on the path. You fidget in the cushioned seat, annoyed at the feeling of polished boots digging into the side of your waist.

Much to your dismay, Nica thought it was apparently a good idea to stretch his legs in the already cramped space. This left you sandwiched between the wall and his lower limbs — and it was not the most splendid combination.

You travel a glance from the tip of his pristine shoes, to the river of white that ran across his trousers and vest, until you docked at the port of blue that was his eyes. If you stared hard enough, vague dark circles polluted the edge of the waters.

He must have been staying up late. Despite his slacking attitude, he knew when to take work seriously. Or rather, fool you into thinking you have the winning cards when he conceals a royal flush beneath his table.

“Am I that charming tonight?”

An abrupt question pulls you back from your shores to reality. He had caught you in his net. Biting your tongue lightly, you shift your attention to the scenery rolling past the window.

Poke!

Nica nudges his foot against you.

“Robiiiin~”

“Stop,” you narrow your eyes in warning.

“Oh, this?”

Poke!

“Or thiiiis~?”

No words could describe the urge you felt to scuffle over and clasp your hand on his mouth. Tape it shut.

You steal a quick look at the smooth arch broadening on his face. It seemed to always dance on his lips. Rare were the instances you found it halting into a frown. Even then, it was likely feigned. Will all you ever see of him be his superficial side?

“What’s your pretty head thinking about now?” He doesn't move this time.

“The mission.” A lie.

“Nothing to fret about when you have me.”

“That’s if you don't get kidnapped first,” you retort. A surge of missing socialites is what drove Crown to investigate further into the case that could be human trafficking.

Oddly, the victims all had received an invitation to a banquet from the same organisation a week prior to their disappearance — Regal.

“Chances are that I could charm my way out of it, Robin. If not… Es wird für mich leichter sein, zu töten,⁽⁵⁾” Lazily tapping on the holster by his thigh, he flashes his pearly white teeth, as if it were a everyday situation for him.

Thump!

The landau stopped before the gates of the venue. Nica promptly sets down his legs, motioning his head towards the place, “Ladies first. I'll be joining you later.”

Upon entering the estate, you are greeted with a towering hallway of a golden hue; enormous paintings that cost more than money than you could ever make hanging on it.

You briefly peek into the open ballroom. Velvet curtains draped the windows, with ornate candelabras fixed to walls. The sound of violins and the piano flows into the room, but not many guests.

Your next stop should be servants’ quarters. Wooden baggage in hand, you saunter through the luxurious building, the layout of which you have memorized beforehand.

It was not hard to imagine someone could get lost here, given its size, you muse. Still, vanishing into thin air without any traces? A nigh impossible feat for anyone… Well, save for the curious Cheshire cat you knew.

“Oh!”

“Ah!”

Moments later, you unceremoniously crash into a petite figure while taking a turn around the corner. Vivid green, partly hidden behind a fringe of blond, widens as she stumbles on her heels.

“Sorry, I-” the two of you spoke at once. You pause awkwardly, waiting for her to continue.

“Don’t worry! I was in no hurry,” she steadies herself, a soft smile curving up the corners of her mouth. You take in her appearance — hair that cascaded down to her waist in thick drills, scattered freckles on her fair cheeks — and a surprisingly similar maid dress to your own?

“Wait, by any chance, are you new here?” a sparkle lit in her eyes at the realization as she too observed you and the case you carried. You nod your head, holding out your free hand, “Robin. Nice to meet you…?”

“Dahlia!” she shakes it with an extreme fervor. “The others and I have been talking a lot about you. Not in a bad way, uh I mean, it's rare for Regal to hire a new employee, so we were just really excited!”

It was the Queen's Aide who pulled some strings to let you enter as a maid, under the common alias Crown, and a certain Vogel member called you by. Strangely, you cannot recall a time where Nica called you by your real name.

Dahlia links her own arm with yours. “Come! I'll show you where the quarters are. And the rest of the place, but it'll have to wait until tomorrow. Oh, and maybe we can share a room?” She sings sweetly in a jovial tone.

She talks a lot; you note mentally.

After setting down your belongings, you head towards the grand ballroom where the gathering was held. A massive chandelier hung in the center of the vaulted ceiling, illuminating the horde of perfumed bodies.

The billowing, silky skirts of noblewomen graze your body as you shuffle in between them, clutching a tray with both hands. Bubbles pop off in the champagne flutes on it.

“It is rumored Count Fitzwilliam is looking for a bride…”

“Have you heard about what Lady Spencer did during the last outing…”

Conversations, both hushed and outspoken, were easily heard by you. The aristocrats paid no attention to a mere maid after all.

“They say we have an ambassador from another country here tonight,” a faint whisper makes you perk up your ears. “Whom?” another person inquired.

You concentrate on their words, feeling your heart pound faster for an inexplicable reason. It must be the adrenaline from trying to not come off as suspicious.

“I don't know his name, but they say he's German.”

“Did you get to see him?”

“From afar, yes…”

Pat!

You felt a sudden, foreign touch on your shoulder — not in a good way. It made the hairs on your nape rise warily.

“Why, hello there, lass…” A harsh, gruff voice.

Standing behind you was a man with wrinkly, creased skin and a head bald. Except for the auburn patches groomed evenly. He was dressed to the nines. A high born no doubt.

“Can I help you, sir?” you ask politely, despite how you felt uncomfortable in his presence.

“Such supple skin and bewitching body you have,” crooked fingers caress your hand, which grips tighter onto the tray. Mild irritation growing into a flame simmers in your eyes, “Excuse me?”

“You poor thing, all alone… I could help you become less lonely,” the invading touch slowly crawls up your arm.

Who did he think he was? Drawing in a sharp inhale, you grit your teeth, “Leave me alone. Or else.”

“Don’t you mean… pretty please?”

“—Master!!”

He paused mid sentence as a call interrupted him. With a dissatisfied huff, he grabs the stem of the last glass you carried, withdrawing from your side. You release a sigh of relief at his departure, scanning the crowd for who could have called him.

Familiar, curly locks of gold appear in your vision.

The night deepens, and the sea of people is still flooding the place. An ache struck your back and feet from how long you stood to distribute the drinks.

Unfortunately, your attempt at intel gathering has not been particularly fruitful so far. Most chatters were full of gossip and the latest trends.

But you did learn of one thing: apart from the revelry at night, Regal also held exclusive activities to engage in during the day. You reckoned it was a technique to make more visitors pay for a room and stay until the event is fully over.

Wondering if you should rendezvous with Nica about this, you try to search for his tall figure in the crowd. In spite of all the buzz surrounding the philanderer, you had not once seen him. Perhaps you were too absorbed into your task to properly notice him, or he passed by you without a single comment.

“—Mr. Schwartz! Mr. Schwartz!!”

Think of the devil. There he was. You catch a bevy of young noble women and men flocking to him. The sight of his usual disarrayed jacket was absent. Instead, it was worn snuggly on his well-built frame.

“Say, are you truly not free tonight?” A lady coyly twirls her hair around her finger with her strawberry lips stuck out in a pout.

Another one cooled themselves quickly with their hand fan facing up, “I’d love to dance with you~”

“Here, my trade card. You are free to drop a visit to my shop any time you want! I'll even give you a ten percent discount!”

It was apparent he was no short of desperate admirers. You tap your shoe on the hardwood floor softly, thinking about what your next course of action should be.

You could always meet up with him later, and there is still a floor you have not yet searched for clues: upstairs. Since everyone else was down here…

Fwoosh!

Startled by the sensation of a warm breath being blown into your ear, you scramble to grab your flailing tray. Your train of thought had been forced to halt. Again. At least there were no remaining glasses.

“My, my,” A rich, teasing tone. And you knew exactly who it belonged to this time.

“Alfons!!”

“One could easily get the wrong idea if you call my name out so passionately, Miss Robin. Especially... Your partner tonight.”

“He’s not sharing a Curse with Roger, Al.”

“If you will, please refrain from uttering that brute’s name next to mine. It is truly something out of a nightmare to hear.”

The manner in which he shook his head with a distressed expression — it was as if there could not be an ordeal more mortifying for him.

“Should I even ask what you're doing here?” To be fair, it was not entirely shocking for him to be here. Though, Victor did not mention he would be assigned to this mission…

“Here’s a better question. Don't you just feel yourself greening with envy by how they're fawning over him?” Alfons shifts closer, nearly touching heads with you as you both gaze at the star of tonight's banquet.

“Of course not!” Right then, Nica’s eyes meet yours. As if he really heard what you said. Air catches in your throat as a familiar, conceited smirk is formed on him.

“Don’t be mistaken. I wouldn't... ever like him,” you subconsciously clutch at your dress with one hand, crumpling up the delicate fabric. You were sure that he wouldn't come to like you either. You would nip any attraction towards him in the bud before it would ever have a chance to bloom.

Alfons clicks his tongue. “I would advise you to make wiser choices — but then again, the little robin who brought water for the sinners in hell was not so clever either.”

You lift your face to glare back at him, intending to rebuke. When you did, the space next to you was empty. Gone like the illusionary phantom he was. Or was he there in the first place?

What a shame. If only you had paid a little more attention to the black swan. You would have spotted how his smile faltered upon seeing that raven head with you.

𖹭 ── 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒉 // notes + tl. cross-checked with multiple translators, but if you think that it could be corrected or further improved please let me know!

1. LINE chat reference

2. Autsch ➛ ouch

3. Ja ➛ yes

4. Sie könnten mich um Hilfe bitten ➛ you could ask me for help

5. Es wird für mich leichter sein, zu töten ➛ it will be easier for me to kill

𖹭 ── 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒑𝒕 //

and that's the end of part 1! to be honest, i think i will be putting this on hold, since I feel that my skills have not caught up yet with this kind of plot-heavy fic.

feedback would be greatly appreciated so that I can improve my writing! I still have a lot to learn.

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikemen villains x reader #ikevil x reader #divider by cafekitsune #divider by mikeykuns #ikemen villains fanfic #ikevil fanfic #ikevil fanfiction #ikemen villains fanfiction #ᴠ. ᴡʀɪᴛᴇꜱ ✎#ikevil nica #nica schwartz

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postersofleon · 7 months ago

Text

The Benefits of the Ants

After traveling the world, a family of old wealth discover their daughter is quieter than usual. Despite calling her over dramatic behind her back, they still worry about her. In that worry, they bring a garden expert to fix up the green house they left alone. That's when Leon met the quietest girl he had ever seen, and he had to explain to her why he doesn't kill ants.

Content: fluff and slight angst

Notes: afab fem!reader; i literally dreamt this I don't know why; soft leon; reader is kinda immature; ada cameo because I love her (she is vibing); i think that's all?

taglist: @argreion

"Honey, what's wrong?" The husband asked the woman of the house. The wife replied with a pout, "No space for my shoes." It was unusual for them to fit after she bought piles and piles of shoes; Heels from France, sandels from Greece, and those flapper shoes his wife had grown intrigued to weak to make herself pretty. Odd little things that like that would usually cause a friendly discussion, but what bothered him was the home he left behind.

The once beautiful home just covered in spiders and dust bunnies, but at least the economic boom. His once ten year old child was now a strong twenty five year old who would marry and find the time to find a man. The man was proud of it, but... he was worried about his second child.

He didn't like being blunt in his life, but the second one, oh, she was his favorite.

She was exactly like his grandfather. Quiet and would only speak in small whispers. She wasn't loud as her mother, but still loud enough to not let a man push her over. Not as strong as her older sister, but still as tough as marble.

His youngest daughter was the star of his life and seeing this. Her sad demeanor just made the man ignore his wife's cries for things to be clean. "Butterfly," The man of the house held his daughter, "What's wrong?"

A pout. "I..." She couldn't find the words to explain her frustration. Being back home should bring her happiness, but seeing old room of her childhood just covered with dust. Her old Barbie dolls just frozen in time, stuck in those positions.

It felt stupid to complain, so she just stayed quiet.

The family hired new maids to clean up the mess, cleaning the details as the man of the house stayed in the basement. Muttering an apology to the women when he came in and out of that basement.

"What are you going to do? Stay with mom and dad?" The eldest sister asked. It was not to offend her young sister, but it was worrying that she wasn't even trying to find a romantic partner. Love of a parent or even family is enough, but the youngest didn't even have a friend.

She sighed, "I, I don't know." She poked on a wet wall that the crew were painting, "I just..." Her finger was now that dark green color their mother loved. "I wish I can understand myself." Her index finger and gently rubbed together to spread the paint, "I'll be outside."

The father knew his daughter spent so much time outside, hiding away from the crew and her own family. Her childhood room was empty, ready to be decorated by her new interests, but the new issue was coming in. Four large walls weren't home for her anymore. Every Saturday, his daughter would hide away near the lake.

Thoughts went in and out of the man's head. How can he assure that his daughter will stay... at least near home.

Until that's when he had a thought.

The old green house.

You were about to go out, explore what else you could learn from this place until you saw a sandy mop of hair. From the distance, it looked like a guy - a young guy who was crouched down on the floor. Butt lifted up to the sky, which caused you to laugh.

Once hearing your laughter, the guy tried to stand up and smacked his head on one of those wooden tables. "Sorry, did I do something wrong?" This was a different voice that you haven't heard. You stepped back to give space to the guy. He sat up and looked up.

He was strange in a way. His blue eyes couldn't even look properly at you, "Um, hi." His legs crossed underneath him. "Ma'am." He added awkwardly.

"Hi?" You slowly said. You didn't know what else to say, so you just left the guy sitting on the ground. Maybe he had a good reason to be messing around down there, and who were you to judge him. Dad probably hired him.

Your boots stepped over the dead leaves, and a crunch appeared every once in a while. You opened the door and left to go outside the other place of the home. The green house was busy being taken care of.

It was exhausting once you lay on the ground of the tall grass. The warm sun was just keeping you a nice temperature. Away from the world by being in the world. You closed your eyes, and a shadow appeared, "Tell mom I'm busy." You muttered before opening your eyes.

Once you looked properly, you saw your father, "Butterfly," He sat down beside you and quickly followed his direction, "Can you help Leon with the green house?"

Immediately, your answer was begging to be a huge no. You didn't want to help a strange guy because... he was doing his job and you'll be the idiot asking him stupid questions. "Do," You played with your jeans, "Do I have to?"

"Please, I want you to make a friend." Your father patted your shoulder. He was pleading with you to give a stranger a chance.

"Fine." You forced those words out.

The next couple of days, you were forcibly hanging out with Leon, and you didn't want to be mean. He seemed like a nice guy willing to teach you about soil, but by the way he spoke to you: it was fairly obvious to tell this was just a hobby he kind of liked.

"You have to be gentle with the animals around you." Leon cleaned his face with a dirty rag. You two just sat on the ground as he gave you another lesson. "To plant. You need to understand that not all insects are bad for your flowers and such."

You nodded your head.

"Okay."

Leon smiled.

Little by little, you were getting used to his awkward smiles and his butt chin. Those were the first things you saw of him. His blond hair was his main focus, but it was always dirty with soil. A maid accidentally interrupted the pair to hand them glasses of lemonade, "Thank you, Ada." You whispered softly. Leon thanked her as well, and the maid left with a bow.

You thought about it for a second and realized what time it was. Lunch.

Leon clapped his hands, "So, we have to prepare the soil before we plant the greens." You lifted your sandwich you were eating, giving him the sign he forgot to eat again. Leon groaned softly, "Okay, okay." He unwrapped his plastic wrapping and peeled out a sandwich.

He smiled again at you.

You smiled back at him.

After all, being kind to Leon doesn't seem to have consequences.

Leon took a bite of his sandwich, his eyes were stuck on you, "So, why did your family move a lot?" You knew he meant well and didn't just want to pry on your life, but it was such a complicated answer that you didn't even have. "My dad's job made him travel a lot. He went to Spain and Africa a lot, but I was mostly stuck in the boat that took us place to place." You answered

His eyebrow lifted up, "Oh, that's interesting." Leon pinched the tip of his nose, "Where was your favorite place to go?" He asked.

"I liked..." You sighed softly, trying to think of a place where you actually remembered stepping out of the boat, "I guess I liked Brazil."

Leon's eyes widen, "Wow, so you really traveled everywhere, huh?" You nodded again, "I did," Your eyes trailed down at the insects running around them get food that fell. Your finger carefully floated around one of the ants to kill it.

"Don't kill it." Leon muttered softly.

"They bite." You answer back.

Leon broke up a piece of his sandwich and put it on the ground. In an instinct, you leaned forward to see the ants slowly move close to the piece of sandwich. "All living things have a purpose." Leon smiled again at you.

"Yeah, until the purpose becomes death." You put your finger to interrupt the ants, "Dad said death gives us pain and a friendly reminder that we are easy to be replaced." The ants avoided your finger and headed to get piece of sandwich.

There's was a small pause between you two. God, you sucked at conversations. "Sorry." You muttered softly.

"Well," Leon sighed, "Ants are needed in a garden. And it's okay." He ate the remaining of his sandwich and stood up. You broke a piece of yours and threw it to the ants. "So, now what?" You asked.

Leon smiled, "You," He placed his hand over your head, "You are great." In those exact words, you quickly understood the type of woman you were.

As the green house was slowly forming itself, you were seeing as Leon was carefully planting a green sort of plant with no smell or anything special. "Oh, what is that?" You asked. Leon covered the roots, "This is a Fidi." He said.

"Ooh," You leaned close to look at the plant, there was nothing that made this plant interesting, "So?" Your eyes slowly glanced to see Leon. The blond guy laughed softly, "Well, c'mon, you can't be mean with plants." Your finger gently moved a leaf, "What's its purpose?" You asked Leon.

"It helps heal wounds." Leon gently removed a leaf and put it in his mouth. You looked at Leon as he chewed it into paste. He pulled it out of his mouth, "The taste of it removes parasites from your body as well. It's a very beneficial plant to have around." Leon explained. He showed a small cut he had and put it on it. You couldn't help but giggled excitedly at what you saw, "And what? Does it help you?"

Leon laughed softly, "Yeah, it helps."

You two had your lunch again and juice served by Ada. Once you looked down again, you saw the ants there again, "Are they smart?" You asked Leon. Leon shrugged, "In my mind," He broke up a piece of the sandwich and gave it to the ants, "Once they recognized you to not be a problem, they'll stop biting."

Once again you followed Leon's actions, not because you believed him it was because he did it.

"Leon," You began slowly, "Why are you a gardener?"

Leon removed the green paste from his hand, "Well, I am saving up money to go to my police academy or to have enough money to live comfortably." Your cheeks warmed up, "A cop?"

Leon didn't seem like a cop sort of guy, he seemed happy enough to plant the dumb Fidi. Your head tilted a bit, "Why?"

Leon took a drink of lemonade, "Well, I like the idea of helping people." Your eyes looked down, you had your own experiences with cops, and they all vary. You met a blond guy who worked for rescue, he spoke firmly against your father and then a chubby man came and scream at your father again. Then a couple of cops who actually spoke kindly to her.

"Well, I hope you are a good guy."

He smiled again. Strangely enough, your cheeks warmed up for a different reason now.

Leon enjoyed his time with you nearly every time. You were still very quiet around your family, but you always smiled when he was around. When he had to do heavy lifting, you tried to help him lift the heavy stuff as well.

Slowly, the green house was filling up flowers, vegetables, and herbs. Which meant Leon's job was nearly done. You wanted to be nice for all of his actions, and so you decided to give him a small party. It was strange to give him a party alone so you asked your mother for help.

You didn't want to make Leon feel overwhelmed because you yourself would be overwhelmed by the attention. Ugh, maybe not a party.

You didn't know what gift to even give him. Slowly, you decided to gift him a bottle of whiskey from Mexico. Gah! Your feelings were completely simulating in the worst way when your eyes met Leon.

"Leon..." Your voice was nearly breathless as you approached him. "Here." You felt your ears burning up. Leon laughed awkwardly. He looked down at the bag, "Whiskey?"

You nodded your head, "Yeah, I... I know most people gift those things." Leon nodded his head as he slowly pulled out the gift. Your cheeks burned as he pulled out a 'Wow.'

You turned around, unable to look at Leon anymore. Gosh, Leon made you feel so many things, and it was... nice. "Looks expensive." Leon whispered softly. Another nod from your side. "It is..." Your fingers began to play the edges of your shirt.

Leon smiled, "Well, how about..." His own cheeks turned red, "How about you and I share a glass of it when I finish my police academy?" Your eyes turned into stars.

"Yeah..."

Life without Leon sucked. You didn't want to admit it, but you missed his conversation and his dumb goofy smile. At least Ada was good company, she tried comforting you yet it didn't feel the same. "I miss Leon." You mumbled softly to Ada. Ada nodded her head, "I can see that, miss."

Your father smiled. It was heartwarming to see you like this, "Butterfly, you can send him a letter."

"I don't wanna annoy him." You mumbled to him. Leon was going to be a cop so the idea of just sending a letter. It seemed childish when he just left two days ago. You went outside to the green garden, and those dumb feelings of sadness came.

Ada quickly followed you, "Miss?"

"I don't feel good, Ada." You mumbled softly. Your fingers began to rub with each other; it was the only way to ease you down right now. "I... really like Leon." Ada nodded her head, "I can tell." She smiled kindly at you.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, "D-do you think Leon knew?" Before Ada could answer, an ant bit her, "Are you okay?" You asked. Ada nodded her head, "Yeah, it just burns for a while." She whispered softly.

As the family slept, Ada grabbed her phone and sighed softly. "Wesker, the butterfly is trapped."

In the end, Leon never got your letter. Leon felt stupid to even have a crush on a rich girl so he never tried to call or check on you. He was hired to Raccoon City's police department, but it was too badly affected by a zombie attack. He was trapped in the police's parking garage and a dog attacked him. Someone shot the zombie dog and he looked up.

"Ada?"

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re2 leon

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yeonjunszn · 1 year ago

Text

ASAP!

PAIRING! mark lee x f!reader

GENRES! fluff﹒crack﹒slice of life?

WARNINGS! as per usual, it is not a yeonjunszn smau without my sailors mouth — so mature language, coffee shop!au cause i work in one and couldn’t resist myself, this smau is actually a recreation of a yeonjun smau called cool it! by my bff past tumblr user yuitaru, manager mark era, kinda dumb reader (affectionate) era, milf lover jeno, insane jaemin and hyuck, chenle in his nepotism baby era tbh, there’s a fight scene somewhere, also annoying fluffy cute disgusting scenes here and there, an overt amount of coffee shop/barista references bc i am a master at my craft, mr. choi yeonjun has a cameo to pay homage to the original cool it!, ignore time stamps cause i was lazy lol, lmk if i missed anything!

FEAT! the rest of nct dream, yangyang + xiaojun + hendery from wayv, chaewon from le sserafim, sumin from stayc, mingi + the rest of the ateez ‘99 line, and yeonjun from txt

SUMMARY! you’re not exactly the best barista at zhong coffee, but for some unknown reason (his massive crush on you), mark thinks you can do no wrong. sick and tired of his favoritism and your lack thereof due to absolute obliviousness, your coworkers are determined to fix this problem. asap.

STATUS! completed!

BEGINNING! june 1, 2023

END! august 31, 2023

MORE! HELLOOOO im back bffs 😵 did u miss me??? i have a quick little disclaimer for u guys so i don’t get accused of stealing 😻😻😻🫶

thank u so much to rina my bff bestie soulmate for giving me the rights to recreate cool it! and sort of bring back such a fun smau </3 i’ve been working on asap! for quite some time now, between work and school, and i’m so excited i can finally share her with all of u 🫶 i do plan on going back to all my works that are on hold (including my 1k event LOL) but i was sort of burnt out for a while which is why i did all this in absolute silence 😋👍 anyway!! i hope i did her justice <3 send an ask to join the taglist!!

PROFILES! mark’s biggest haters | espresso patronum | the rest of chenle’s coffee maids

ONE! please no tweeting on the clock, y/n!

TWO! manager zoned is crazy

THREE! BACK OF THE LINE PAL

FOUR! go work at mcdonald’s or something

FIVE! common chenle L

SIX! i always knew u were a furry

SEVEN! call me karen from mean girls

EIGHT! mark antis 1 - mark 0

NINE! the best ever (1.1k)

TEN! NANEUN ALCOHOL-FREE GEUNDE CHWIHAE

ELEVEN! YESSSS GO GIRL BOSS

TWELVE! i don’t owe u shit freeloader

THIRTEEN! force and sheer determination

FOURTEEN! yoooo mark how it be? what it do?

FIFTEEN! pick me choose me

SIXTEEN! lunch break (499)

SEVENTEEN! DONG SICHENG ?

EIGHTEEN! hey guys this is god

NINETEEN! i will force his hand into a blender

TWENTY! chocolate croissant (841)

TWENTY ONE! #xiaojun_out

TWENTY TWO! grinders and coffee beans (951)

TWENTY THREE! what is a marky/n

TWENTY FOUR! shaking shivering sobbing

TWENTY FIVE! every summertime (1.08k)

TWENTY SIX! worlds worst barista. fired.

TWENTY SEVEN! cool it

#nct #nct smau #nct social media au #nct socmed au #nct mark x reader #nct mark smau #mark lee x reader #mark lee smau #mark lee social media au #mark x reader #mark smau #mark social media au #asap.mark❕#yeonjunszn

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mischiefmaker615 · 2 months ago

Text

If You Love Me

Summary/Inspired by: "If you love me (really love me)" By Brenda Lee

Note: "It doesn’t matter if the world is going to shit, I have you. That’s all that matters. The best part, eternity is forever." (My summary of the song LOL)

~This one was kinda difficult cause the song has already cameoed in the Loki Series Lol

Requester: @eleniblue

Rating: R (dark)

You couldn’t remember the last time your body had truly relaxed on it’s own. Or when home felt like home. Or when you were able to feed yourself. Sleep by yourself.. or that you were able to see anything else beyond your bedroom.

Locked.

But why?

You were the only one who knew, that’s why. As the people mourned and dedicated the fallen second prince of Asgard, you stayed upon the balcony with the truth screaming in your mind that he was right there amongst them.

Odin.

Loki wasn’t dead.. not really.. perhaps dead to you, this wasn’t the god you had fallen in love with long ago.. he was kind, a gentleman, he lied- yes, but to keep a cruel joke running for this long? ..this wasn’t your Loki..

The announcement had spread that Thor was to set out to repair the nine realms while the news came back that amongst his last heroic mission, Loki had been killed. All father didn’t seem to be as.. broken as you were, to have lost your lover. Perhaps its because he’s seen death so many times, but to not crumble when your son is to never return home? He was heartless.. or so you thought.

Wasted tears.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, you had found yourself locked in your chambers with the rumors that you were plotting against the king. Lies! Word was to be believed that no one was in here, that the door was to remain a memory chamber and will be honored by no one entering.

Except one.

You were furious- furious to find out Loki had lied all this time about being dead, by impersonating Odin, by keeping all this from you of all people. On top of that, people believed you were in Asgard’s dungeons this whole time for treason! Loki tried to be accommodating, being the one to show up with food under the illusion of a chamber maid claiming she was ordered by the king to check on the ‘Memorial Chamber’ daily. He had you stay busy by tending to your own room, taking on the duty of a maid to yourself.

You had throw yourself at him, tried to hurt him, beg him, talk with him, but it all ended the same. He was more powerful than you, and shooed you off as no more than a fly while you tried to reason with him instead. One time, he had left you bound until you could control yourself to his liking.

Magic.

No one could hear. No one could see him enter, even in his disguise. No questions if there are no sightings. No sign of Thor returning anytime soon, or at least that is what you could hear by your constantly straining over the balcony. You had almost fallen that day until Loki had the idea to keep your ankle literally shackled so that you had room to roam anywhere until you are stopped just near the edge.

Prisoner.

You beat a fist against the railing in frustration, hating how your life has turned out, how the one you loved has obsessively locked you away for nothing but to hear him vent and fuck. In another life perhaps, you would be happy with that. Making love and sharing your hearts to each other. Yet a whole different perspective opens up when you find yourself limited with the feeling of choice being ripped away.

The sound of a door opening came from behind you but you didn’t bother to turn around. You knew who it was. The gentle breeze brushed threw your hair and dress as you looked down below the city, your eyes hardly focusing when your.. ex lover’s scent filled your nostrils in an intoxicating way. You hated him for still being attractive to your senses, but a monster to your eyes.

‘’what do you want?” you said coldly.

The feeling of two slender hands came around your hips, wrapping around your waist before they pulled you half a step back to rest against something solid behind you. With Loki, everything was solid.

‘’I’ve come to see how you are fairing, as I always do.’’ Loki said gently, pressing his nose into your hair with an inhale and you immediately felt his body relax. He needed this.

‘’and every time is the same answer.’’ You say coldly and Loki paused, stiffening a little as his tone gave you a warning.

‘’darling.. we’ve talking about th-‘’

‘’fuck. Off.’’ You snapped, jerking your body out of his grip to turn and face him. your icy stare did nothing to make him sigh, straightening to his full height as he put on the mask of a ruler, not of a lover.

‘’your Midgardian tongue still takes over you, I would hope after all these years of Asgard you would begin to forget it’s foul language.’’

‘’my whole life spent on Asgard will not erase the memories in which I came.’’ You snapped, your body tense as you stood in a defense position. Not that it would do you any good, the shackle limited your space and he was still much more powerful as he looked down his nose at you.

‘’I can fix that.’’ He threatened, the promise to wipe your mind with magic meant to scare you as you took a small step back. He merely laughed, showing he was merely jesting but you didn’t take his cruel jokes well as you looked away from him.

‘’..what do you want.. really..’’

Loki seemed to relax then, as if things just got back on track regardless of your demeanor now and felt him scoop your hands into his with a grip that didn’t show him letting go anytime soon. With his silence, you glanced in his eyes to find he was thinking, his gaze cast to the floor while his thumbs rubbed against your skin.

‘’..I’ve come to seek consultation.’’

You raised a brow, more out of the audacity than curiosity while he raised his eyes to look at you. ‘’..about what?”

‘’how Asgard fairs.’’

You almost laugh as you shook your head. ‘’how am I suppose to-‘’

‘’you are limited darling, but you are not stupid.’’ He told you carefully and motioned with the tilt of his chin towards the balcony. ‘’your sight is as good as the Ravens and can tell by just a simple view how our realm fairs. What does it need?”

Your eyes followed his gaze over your shoulder, looking over the realm although it could not see you from the height. You’ve watched every day, and you’ve been reminded how much different it was when Odin was around.. he still refuses to tell you where he is but you deny the idea of him being dead. You knew the answer would give you a negative result, but he wished for truth, from you out of all, which just shows he has lost all whom he cares about, leaving you the last.

‘’it needs.. a ruler.’’

You felt his fingers twitch around your hands, his expression hard but difficult to read as you straightened yourself before him. unafraid.

‘’..explain.’’

‘’..the nine realms lay in ruin, you need to spend more energy out there equally that you do in here.. the people need to be heard and noticed, not just wait for them to come into the palace with their requests. The defenses need to be equally spread out, in all entrances and not just one, that buffoon you had chosen to guard the Bifrost. To. Name. a. few.’’ Your words flowed out of your mouth as if you had practiced day and night for the question to be asked. You knew Loki, perhaps not as much as this one, but you knew deep down he cared for this realm, this home, and that at the end of the day, your words will follow him throughout his tantrums. Even now as his grip tightened every so slightly with his body stiffening.

‘’I am a great kin-‘’

‘’but a crappy leader.’’ Another Midgardian term. One in which had you spinning around so you were pressing up against his chest while his hand moved around you to hold you in place by your waist while his other hand gripped your jaw, forcing you to look beyond the balcony.

‘’the sun shines my dear, the people are free to do as they please until the next order is carried out. they weep and attend the memories of my death, they miss me! They finally care.. of course it had to take me gone for them to realize, but upon watching through another’s eyes can be settled as the next best thing. Thor is gone and war does not threaten us.’’ His grip on your jaw tightened, your hands gripping his wrists with a desperate attempt to pry him off but he merely acts like he doesn’t notice. ‘’how, pray tell, am I a crappy leader?”

Your body tensed, but it was far from shaking as you stilled yourself. He never hurt you, he never will. It would seem he just enjoyed driving you crazy as you calmed your mind and shook your head. ‘’war is not hear yet but it will come if you are not ready and stop busying yourself with the pleasure aspects of ruling. They people follow the laws, yes, but sink to their knees only under the tip of a blade-‘’

‘’you believe this world is going to ruin Y/N? let it. I have everything I need, and it’s currently in my grip right now.’’ He hissed, his arm around you waist pulling you tighter against him while your ass feels his bulge press through his pants. Bastard was getting off on this?

‘’I love you, I have you, and will gladly let it happen if it means you are still at my side in the end..’’

‘’but with no choice.’’ You scoff, glancing down at the shackle that held around your ankle.

‘’choice is merely gifted to us by a mistake in the system Y/N.’’ Loki waved his hand. ‘’at the end of the day, war is inevitable. We are powerful, yes, but eventually we will lose, whether we are still alive to see it or not, everyone takes their turn. I have excepted that and will enjoy my turn of winning while I still have it.’’

‘’so.. you just give up on Asgard?” you gawked, wiggling in his grip when it began to feel uncomfortable while his head tilted down and his lips began to press gently at the skin between your shoulder and neck.

‘’Asgard is at peace, and always will be when I am on the throne.’’ He said with calm confidence. ‘’but upon my death some day, it will not matter what this place is, I will not be around to care. Which is why I am prioritizing now what I care about.’’

‘’and.. this is how you treat people you care about?’’ you ask with slight sarcasm in your whisper, reminding him how you’ve been locked away, shackled, your life a lie to other people who think you have betrayed your realm.

You felt him chuckle against you, nuzzling in your hair now as his body relaxed and a hand moving up your body to rest against your clothed breast, squeezing now and again while you squeezed your eyes shut at your body beginning to betray you between your legs.

‘’If the sun should tumble from the skies, if the oceans were to dry up, if the realm was to fall into absolute chaos.. I’d let it happen.. if it means I will still have you..’’ he breathed before letting his other hand from your waist fall and you left his fingers curl a bit, realizing he was pulling the fabric of your dress up.

‘’y-you cant just let others burn for one person-‘’ you whisper, your eyes widening as you begin to feel your body freeze by his words. He loved Asgard.. he’d give it up, turn his back for you?

‘’that is the beautiful tale of a villain darling, in which I’m sure you see myself as..’’

Silence.

‘’a hero, will sacrifice the one he loves to save the world..’’ he whisper, the dress being raised enough for him to move his hand under and his fingers found your center instantly through your panties, making you flinch with a useless hand pulling at his wrist. ‘’but a villain, will sacrifice the world for the one he loves..’’

‘’s-so.. you want to be a villain?” you whisper, your body beginning to shake as he began to stroke you through your panties. His hand was skilled, and you got small hints that his magic helped along as well when you began to already feel the pressure build up.

‘’ I'll do anything you ask. I will bring you a star if you so much breath it darling.. If it seems that everything is lost, I know one thing will not..’’

Your body began to shake, his grip on you making it impossible to pull away as he moved his hand so it can dip inside your dress to properly begin to knead at your globes. You stilled your body as much as you could while your mind began to grow fuzzy and hard to think until it had no choice but to have your head fall back on his shoulder.

Every time.. he always seemed to win like this in the end..

‘’let me go then.. if you love me..’’

‘’I cannot preform something I’m incapable of doing darling.. it would mean losing you..’’

‘’but if you love me.. really love me..’’

‘’I do love you darling.. so very.. very much..’’ with each word, he seemed to emphasize with the stroke of his fingers, small tight circles where your clit was as your back began to arch. How the hell was he so good at this even through your clothes??

‘’because I know your body darling..’’ he smirked and you tried to glare.

‘’you told me you wouldn’t read it anymore..’’ you warned him, breathy as your hand gripped his wrist, not sure if your body wanted to pull him away or to keep it there.

‘’but you have such a beautiful mind darling, so many thoughts and ideas.. even the naughty ones..’’ he smirked, going faster as your eyes fluttered.

‘’perhaps in the past.. before all-‘’

‘’even now darling. I know you hate me, but you love me for it as well..’’ he smirked, nipping at your earlobe as he could tell you were getting close. ‘’even at last our life on this realm is through.. you and I will share eternity.. forever..’’ he breathed, grinding his bulge against your rear while your thighs began to shake and press around his hand.

‘’I h-hate you-‘’

‘’you hate what I’ve done, but never me..’’ he smirked, licking at your soft spot by your ear before he smirked against your neck. ‘’cum..’’

A gasp left your lips while your body snapped, your orgasm rushing over as you shook and clenched around nothing while his fingers still stroked against your cunt. You hunched forward, almost losing balance if his arm didn’t wrap around you and turn you around, making you fall against his chest with his lips capturing yours.

You moaned against his lips, eyes closed while you relished in the loving and passionate act while his finger tangled themselves in your hair with his arm holding you steady around your waist. You didn’t realize once your high was over that he had backed you both into the bedroom again and once he broke the kiss, he gently pushed you back so you could fall onto the mattress with a light bounce.

‘’I’d love to stay and ravish you properly darling but I will be missing a very important play set to be put on this afternoon.’’ He suddenly said while you caught your breath and looking up at him with wide eyes.

‘’w-wha-‘’

‘’I will return love, do resist touching yourself until I have a chance to do it’’ he smirked and straightened his clothes out, a business like attitude washing over him as if he were talking to a client while he strode over to the door. ‘’I’m sure you will appreciate an afternoon of not being tied to the headboard again.’’

‘’f-fuck y-‘’

‘’language darling, we’ll just have to work on that matter over dinner.’’ He tsked before a familiar flash came to his eyes, making you blink and look away before in the corner of your eye you saw his new form leave you behind with the shut of the door.

Odin.

DM a song for your own Loki Musical Mischief One Shot :D

Tag List: @foxherder @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz

Note: Lets not forget THIS while we're on the subject XD

#loki x reader smut #loki odinson #loki god of mischief #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki x reader #loki smut #lokifluff #loki #loki laufeyson

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distant--shadow · 23 days ago

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As Imogen turns over hay she wonders if it would have the satisfaction and payoff were it not to be done by her hands, if she would lose the lean muscles that define her forearms and biceps, if her shoulders and the base of her spine wouldn’t ache, if she could lift every painting and mirror and carved relief cameo from the manor walls and relieve them from between an opened stained glass window one by one in the night, build an extension piece by piece made of stretched canvas frames and reflective window panes and moulding lining the ceiling made of mosaicked shards of Lords’ and Ladies’ profiles, aquiline noses corner detailing.

Would she set up her bedroll in the patchwork extension? Allow herself the right angle of view that is not one from a stable pigeonhole to see the Lady’s silhouette and track its movements?

She must have sensed the Lady’s presence, hence why Imogen thought of her, thought of watching her, as she closes the gate behind herself and steps into the paddock, polite, attentive, limp mostly abated.

Someone who would drape her dried clothes over the back of a guest room chair whilst she slept, would extinguish the lamp lights to excuse herself whilst Imogen pants over her kitchen maid’s back.

Did the Lady have to leave her bed to extinguish the lights? Could she do it with her mind’s hand, was it her handmaid?

Why did she struggle with the dead weight she draped over the horse? Her hands could remain clean of blood-

“Imogen-”

Imogen straightens, resting the pitchfork at her side.

“M’lady-”

The morning sun rises over the Lady’s shoulder, makes a shadow puppet of her as if at her window.

She can only focus on her teeth as they appear.

“Imogen, would you go to Fairfield shortly? Our delivery is not due for a couple more weeks and so we must have a few bags to tide us over.” She smiles; her hands laced and resting one over the other, dress pleats immaculate, demeanour prim and proper.

Imogen is aware that it is not really a question, but appreciates the guise of choice.

“Certainly M’lady.”

She could ask her in return whether she slept well last night-

“Take whichever horse you desire.”

Maid or mare?

Could she take whichever saddle she desires? She knows which one she would choose.

She daren’t ask - and besides - maybe the Lady would like to take her own outing whilst Imogen is away,

make a maid of herself as she lays a clean tablecloth in the cave.

“Thank you.”

“This will cover four bags. I assume you know the way, correct?” The Lady reaches behind herself and appears to materialise a coin purse from between one of her dresses many pleats.

“I’m familiar, yes.”

Imogen’s hand is (also – possibly, verdict pending) not clean; sweat and mud and honestly-still sex lingering on its surface, despite morning’s washing and the barrier of her glove, arguably allowing her own flesh to stew in the broth of it all, so she cups her hand extended in waiting, dares not to touch the lacing around the Lady’s, to contaminate (any evidence)

Though now she is aware that what does it matter? If her hands are long and delicate and flawlessly alabaster, if a hand is not even needed-

No, she lifted the dead weight with her own.

#imodna #critical role #imogen temult #laudna #bells hells #browz writes #recommended reading

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fluffy-papaya · 1 year ago

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hi i love these things so now im making one for the fandom that haunts me the most

#aphmau #fluffy rambles

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einsatzzz · 27 days ago

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OCtober Day 15: Music - Happy Happy♪ Morning

Master, you're heading out! It shall be a goodbye for a short while. I truly hope you will take care of yourself, please have a nice day today as well! ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.

She's Rosa, the head of Ninomiya Estate's staff (Namimori branch) and the family's 10th Generation Rain Guardian - a very competent, capable, cool and elegant maid. She's very good at her job because this is exactly her passion in life. It helps even more that her two young masters are very lovable and adorable people 🥰

Whether if it's cleaning up after Kurumi-sama's black matter (after another attempt to practice cooking) or if it's cleaning up after Kana-sama's bloody massacre of corpses (after another mission well done), she's the perfect person for the job! 💪💖 She'll make sure to dispose of any trash for them and to not leave even a single speck of dust.

For Day 15's prompt, I'm linking one of the good vibes songs that's been a regular on my playlist lately. It's a song that perfectly describes Rosa's POV on her work as a maid under Oniyanagi family. If Rossa hears this song in-universe, she will probably make this the staff's main theme song lmao

As for her subordinates, they're still a work-in-progress but I hope to introduce them soon.

She's a very professional person, so she also tries to treat the other guardians well (even if the others can be red flags or assholes). It's just that she tunnel visions on the twins a lot of the time.

Releasing fully detailed profiles for them takes sm time, so I'm just gonna slowly introduce the guardians in snack-size info/posts like these hahaha I'm still tweaking her maid uniform and other parts of her design, I think I can still draw her better. When I'm satisfied, that's when I'll do a full-color illustration of her.

If you're interested in seeing my older arts of her, I got you. This is a Rosa-appreciation post after all 😌😌🥰✨

#khr #khre #khr oc #oc #oc-tober #bweirdOCtober #bweirdOCtober2024 #khre rosa #einart #i keep forgetting what tag i use for her bc she's literally just “rosa” svfjvdshvhfsdb #in terms of rain flame --- she's kinda of a more literal interpretation of its main description now that i think abt it #my perfect beloved meidooo~ 🥰🥰😍🤭🤭#i say tweaking her design but it won't be a significant change #i like making character designs simple by default so they're easier to draw for me #i can just glamorize them on special occasions or when needed #(like there are a lot of ga//cha game chara designs that i love but dawg i have body pain problems)#(ALSO AAAAA THE SONG IS SO CUTE PLEASE LISTEN TO IT!!!)#queue i can't put into words

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candywife333 · 8 months ago

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F*** The Pyramid

PART 1

Genre : Historical

PAIRING : yandere-ish Duke Jungkook x spinster social pariah chubby y/n

Inspired loosely by the Pyramid Games (kdrama which you guys should totally check out) and a novel called ,"The Captain's Wallflower"

Warning: This fic has minimal to no proofreading and the usual blend of outlandish comedy , crude jokes with expletives, smut, and angst (because I can't do without it). This is purely fiction and not a representation of the real Jungkook's true character or that of any other member of BTS.

Currently a trilogy ( thinking of making it a series with all other characters of BTS)

Summary: Duke Jung kook remained the quintessential peer of the realm, born with a platinum spoon in his mouth from the day he arrived into the world. He grew up playing a massive role in determining the structure of the social hierarchy----who gets to be the diamond of the water, the most eligible bachelor (other than himself of course), and.....who gets to be at the bottom of the pyramid ;the very dregs of society, the spinsters and ruined women who would never have a chance at a better life.

His bevy of associates all wealthy and powerful comprised of ; Marquess Taehyung, Baron Jimin, Viscount Yoongi, Viscount Hoseok, and Duke Namjoon (close advisor of the king)--formed the Pantheon (a group of wealthy and powerful men that ruled England). He lived the ideal life, the envy of all others..... or so he had thought. Till he met, Spinster Y/N--- the illegitimate daughter of Baron Stanton. They say, if she looks like a spinster, smells like a spinster (of lavender and epsom salt) , and tastes like a spinster ( though who would ever choose to taste one?) ----then she must be one. But something about Y/N was peculiar. She definitely seemed to be a spinster in name and mannerism. But was she truly one? And what was she hiding?

Cameos: Hwasa (my queen), Chungha, and many others

Part 2

I yawned again. And again. And again. Munched on a croissant. And then proceeded to...yawn again. So boring. I would never deign to come down to London for a Season ever again. That was the only modicum of comfort I was looking forward to. Never showing up here again. The scene would never change, so what was the point? Aunt Alyssa, my mother's older sister, had insisted that I accompany Solji to her debutante season----where she would be introduced to all the other pompous, rich, uninteresting, vapid members of the ton. So she could find an uninteresting, rich husband to marry who would inevitably cheat on her with a mistress and she could pretend to be happy and have his ugly nonsensical big headed babies pushed out of her vagina and die....eventually. I know, my view of the ton and life amongst them is anything other than comforting. Yet after watching so many seasons go by, sitting on my bench (I called it my PERCH) like a cockatoo at the rotten old age of 26, my views were firmly engraved into stone. Nobody could convince me otherwise.

The entire point of the ton's existence was enforcing social hierarchy. There was no other point. True friendships are meager and rare, sanctity of marriage has no meaning ( with affairs flourishing abundantly in dark corners of Vauxhall ) , and love is nonexistent. Love, a concept I had pondered for ages as I watched naive gullible debutantes waltz around with their chosen well-to-do suitors. Suitors that proclaimed sonnets of love initially, yet inevitably lost interest in their gullible little guppy fish wives and relegated those same foolish wives to country estates never to be seen again, so they could priggishly jaunt across London with mistresses on their arms---to operas and **gasp*** decorated bedrooms. Showering attention on mistresses and maids and any other women of relatively low standing --- to suck at their grotesque, syphilitic cucumbers.

Abhorrent. Men never made sense to me, and I was convinced that love was a construct they came up with, to fool women to do their bidding. I mean, at this point, having seen what I have seen, I wonder if they even believe in the hoax called love themselves. My concern after sitting here on my perch for the last 7 seasons since I had come out, is that not once had I been asked to dance. I mean, in the grand scheme of things, I guess it made sense? Chubby , wearing spectacles, and unappealing dresses with colors and designs of years gone by, definitely would not make me the toast of the season by any chance.

Yet, even when I had been a bit more fashionable, and when father had been alive and still holding the position of Baron--I would've expected few offers of marriage by fortune hunters merely seeking my dowry. But alas... that was not be. One girl, that debuted the same year as I did, daughter of Duke Asbury, Lady Seulgi had tripped on her feet while dancing the waltz, into the arms of Baron Jimin , bowling both of them over to the cold marble floors of the ballroom rather unceremoniously. She had bemoaned to the rest of the debuting girls (including little old me) that day, languishing on a chaise as she gesticulated nervously, " I am a miserable dancer. How will I ever survive this wretched Season"?

I had quietly tried to suppress my giggles at her ridiculous tirade. What could she even mean? She was proclaimed the diamond of the first water instantaneously after being presented at court that Season 7 years ago, earning the attentions of all the members of the Pantheon and many other wealthy peers of the realm. Her life was easy. All she had to do was do nothing. Yes, I said it. Merely, NOTHING. Her fate was decided from her birth. Not like the rest of us, who were not conventionally attractive and now.......financially destitute. She had earned the good grace of everyone from birth due to her wealth and strong connections. Even if she had farted, everyone would have applauded her flatulence.

These were the women I didn't understand. The ones who had everything, yet bemoaned their lot in life----frivolous ninnies in my opinion. All the women of the higher echelons of society remained there --marrying similarly wealthy lords and preserving their lineage and wealth. You may ask---is there no social mobility? And I would say, of course bloody not---you simpering little sot. What did this look like? A fairy tale? Cinderella? Princes of good moral standing don't exist. Rich men have options. And they always avail them. Why would a rich man marry a poor woman? Lust. That would be the only real answer.

I know I sounded jaded, and I definitely was. You can only be a trampled on flowerbed for so long, till you start festering and molding with bitterness. I do not profess to be better than anyone else. At times over the years I had wished to feel beautiful, marry a good match, and have a family. But that destiny clearly was not in store for me. The complicated reasoning being that I simply was not conventionally attractive and did not inspire lust in men, and that my father's rather paltry dowry did not inspire even mere greed in men . I am socially inept and quiet by nature. These were all valid reasons.

But, the simple reason I chose to believe---is that one man merely found no utility in me. Who you may ask? Duke Jungkook I would say, without even flinching or stuttering. Others thought "society at large" did not care for them, hence they were mowed over to the corner to become rotten spinsters and outcasts. You know who society was? Duke Jungkook and the members of his Pantheon. But he was still the mastermind. Slickly manipulative, handsome, and wealthy.

He was born sitting on a golden throne, and over the years proved that he was an intellectual. Silently accruing further wealth for his estate through trade and industry---something the Ton usually looked down upon. But since it was Duke Jungkook, it was permissible. Everything was in his case. He was the exception to every rule. If his character description stopped at this, we would have all been fine. But one thing Duke Jungkook seemed to crave is control. He was hyper competitive because he lusted after control---and it's close comrade, power. Power over even the pitiful members of society, he had no business trying to control. He played God for years, and always got away with it.

How do I know he's the one running the show you ask? Well, I had time to observe. And I would say, that is my only true talent. I notice things others don't because I am invisible. A mousy little mite relegated to my pitiful perch. And I noticed everything, from his wagers which either demoted or elevated people's social standings---to the way he manipulated people with misinformation and rumors. He decided who was popular. And he decided who wasn't. And if anyone was to blame for my social standing, I would say it was him. What he had done 7 years ago had reduced me to my position now. It wasn't even anything all that dramatic. He cut me down without even a fight.

I remember it as clear as if it were yesterday, even now.....

"I am so sorry, Lord Jungkook, I wasn't watching my step, please forgive me", I had stuttered in an overly fuchsia dress akin to a little sausage as I sweat incessantly in the stuffy ballroom. Hadn't meant to spill a chalice of lemonade on his coat.

His dark eyes gleamed with amusement and something that I identified as calculation later on in my life , as he brushed it off with a wave of his hand, "Tis' of no import, Lady Y/N. Don't worry". I nodded and curtsied towards him, "Thank you for overlooking my clumsiness, Lord Jungkook. I am sorry to disturb your evening".

I had thought he had truly forgiven me. It wouldn't ruin his reputation, our encounter. It was the mistake of a newly debuted girl, more akin to a child than a woman.

I had believed in the kindness of men and humanity till then. Till he chuckled and slyly condescended in a rather loud and cloyingly sweet tone of voice, "Of course, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. At least you are not as clumsy as your mother in concealing her relations or as clumsy as your father in the way of estate management". He sauntered away lazily as he left me to deal with the fall, whistling a merry tone juxtaposing the social demise he had just inflicted upon an innocently naive girl.

Casually cruel in the name of being honest. Everyone in the ballroom had heard, their eyes and ears peeled towards any interaction involving him as they do generally, as moths do towards a flame. Only Lord Jungkook would know my dad's poor financial status even as a Baron, or about my mother's affairs which had wrung him dry emotionally. Father had resorted to ruining our meager wealth by letting the estate go to spoil. He soon after died of heartbreak at my mother's affairs a year after this horrendous moment.

He had borrowed a massive amount of money from Duke Jungkook, money he would never be able to repay. When he died, the Baron's estate and debt was inherited by cousin, leaving me and my two older sisters with nothing. Thankfully, my sisters were already married off to decent, financially stable men---though they were mere vicars. Not men with titles, but reliable nevertheless. And I was left an orphan. Looked down upon and pitied by my beautifully polished sisters, and members of society as I was unmarried and ineligible according to my looks and lack of dowry--and Duke Jungkook's honorable estimation of my worth (or lack thereof).

Duke Jungkook had ruined my life long before dad had died, and the mere sight of him would remind me of my downfall to this day.

I hated the man to his day, teeth gritting unconsciously. If I ever came across the man in need, I wouldn't hesitate to ruin him. As he had ruined me. He had opened up to the mockery and disdain of the ton. I didn't get invitations to most balls and events by then. The only few I did get invited to were due to my Aunt Alyssa, or shall I say Viscountess Alyssa. I was unmarriageable nevertheless. And I had only stuck around to earn some money by being companion and chaperone for Solji.

The plan was to leave this horrendous place of twinkling lights and crushed dreams for a family--for a baby (a dream I had cherished in my heart of hearts for quite some time). I just wanted to be left alone now. Away from Duke Jungkook's paralyzing serpentine glances that decried me of my humanity and value, and the snickers from other wealthy men at my nunnish appearance. I would go live in a 3 bedroom cottage on the countryside, the only thing that had been entailed to my name in father's will which had not been of any value to debt collectors.

It was a beautiful cottage, tucked away near the edge of a meadow in a quaint little town called Chestershire. We had family vacations in my childhood there. It just required some repair and warm touches, to become a lovely house. I had earned money as companion to Aunt Alyssa so that I could retire there without worrying about money for at least the next 2 years. I would probably start selling garments I had knitted and sewed over the years as well, once those funds ran out.

Just thinking about the cottage and the quiet life awaiting me, filled with baby chicks and piglets and a warm hearth devoid of judging glares filled me with happiness....something I had not been acquainted with for a long time, as a soft smile brightened up my face .

Couldn't wait to leave the bloody pyramid. Every dog has its day. And mine would arrive tomorrow.

Only , if I had known that destiny always knows how to kick a girl in the arse, just when she believes the worst is over.

--------------------------------------

I arrived around the evening of the next day after a garrulous carriage ride had tossed me up like a well done egg salad 30 times. The travel was terrible and yet the journey was definitely worth it. Meadows filled with various flowers and fruits stretched up and over sprawling green hills in the weak light of the setting sun , all cresting into a peak at the top of the hill---my home, my cottage. It was just as I remembered it, a homely cottage wrapped around by rose bushes and creeping stalks of bouginvillea and tulips.

The main village center was just a 3 minute walk away, but felt much further away from everyone else, with the way it was situated upon a tiny hill surrounded by an expanse of trees giving plenty of shade to the cottage. I paid the coach man and walked up the hill, sweating and dusty from the ride. As I came up to the door, I could smell the fragrance of a hearty stew wafting out of the window.

Who was in there already?I knocked on the door and was met with a swinging door that gave view to an overgrown golden retriever jostling me to the grassy ground with enthusiastic licks. A buxom lady with sparkling green eyes, and thick brown hair in two plaits exclaimed happily, "Oh, darling Y/N, tis' been a long while since I saw you. Must've been when we were kids, still digging worms from the pond and making little houses for them".

I remembered who it was. Sunny, my old maid's daughter-- who I had played with in my childhood. I patted the dog on its head as I got up, brushing grass from my skirts, enveloping her in a rambunctious hug with a wide grin, "So good to see you sweetheart!!!! Where is your mother? Is she in good health?"

"Oh, she's fine Y/N, just back at home because of her rheumy joints. She finds it hard to keep up with maintaining the cottage, so I am doing the job as of now." I smiled warmly, my insides singing with joy at the jubilant welcome back home. I truly felt at home for once.

Chestershire still remained the quiet town I remembered it to be, idyllic and pasotral. It was a wonderful change of pace--fresh air and sprawling greenery so much the eye could not contain. She grabbed me by the shoulders and hustled me into the clean , well maintained cottage. It was a beautiful interior with leviathan bay windows and plenty of comfortable seating space. I inhaled the hearty potato stew into my mouth, discussing my plans with Sunny on how to make the cottage even more homely and regarding repairs to be done.

Apparently a tiny sum of money was provided by father's will to go for maintenance annually to the cottage. That is why the place hadn't fallen into complete disrepair. It just needed a few homely touches, some floral printed curtains and doilies and warm rugs and blankets. Along with some vases that could contain flowers which shrouded the cottage window-sills.

I had my work cut out for me for the next week. But this work was more welcome than anything else I had had to deal with uptil now.

--------------------BACK IN LONDON

Lord Jungkook was pondering something of the utmost importance at the moment as his valet stared at him, eyes agog with concern. The cravat he was to wear today to Lady Esterly's ball held much salience. It had to be something somber to indicate respect towards the end of her grieving period, yet not so outrageously dark in color that it would be utterly unfashionable. She had lost her gouty ill tempered 70 year old husband few months ago to sickness. And though she was clearly happy to lose him, it would be unbecoming to demonstrate those sentiments in public.

As Jungkook entered the ballroom , something in his subconscious pricked at him. What was this uneasy feeling? He hadn't felt this way since 7 years ago when he had found out that Lady Y/N's mother was having an affair with his father, who had been Duke of Somerset at the time.

His father had been a wealthy and powerful man who had always seemed to always adore Jungkook's mother, the Duchess Somerset. Yet, he had done the exact opposite and when she had least expected it, well into their marriage of 30 years, taken up a torrid relationship with Y/N's mother. Jungkook's mother had died of grief merely a year after his father had made his affections not so secret to society. And his father soon followed her in death due to his weak constitution, succumbing to infection in the winter. Y/N's mother had been left to grieve the passing of his father and her husband that same year. She stayed with one of Y/N's married elder sisters.

He had never noticed Y/N's existence till then, till he found out whose daughter she was as she had scurried around the edges of the ballroom like a nervous rodent since her debut in Society. She wasn't much of a beauty to look at with plain features, full cheeks and a plush frame that seemed more matronly and frumpy than anything else. Her only redeeming feature were her sparkling eyes and lush hair that served to hinder the expressions on her face.

Her attire had deteriorated as her father's estate fell to ruin, thanks to Jungkook availing Jimin's crafty ways of tricking money out of the hands of Y/N's gambling father who had gotten rather desperate for money. Jimin ran a gaming hell that had made many a gentleman penniless---something he took great pride in. According to Jimin, if they lost money to the gaming hell, it was a testament to their bad luck and his good luck.

Jungkook had decided to strip her of any remaining honor, not as though her mother had left his mother with any honor either-- even in her death. It would be comeuppance for what her mother had done. She would pay for her mother's sins. And so he thoroughly ruined her reputation, ensuring she would never have a good life therafter--a life lacking family and a chance at a socially and financially advantageous match.

That's when it hit Jungkook. Where was Y/N? She wasn't in her usual spot overlooking people dancing at her bench. That had been her occupation for the past 7 years, watching people have the life that she would never have--he had made it so.

Jungkook felt extremely uneasy now that he could not spot Y/N. Where the hell was she? She always came to the bigger events that Lady Alyssa and her daughter attended. He had denied her invitation to most smaller ,more intimate events with his social acumen, but not the big ones. She had to see what she was missing out on---life. That had been his revenge plan.

But now she was nowhere to be found. He blindly searched for her, till he came across Lady Alyssa and inquired in a drawling tone , schooling his features into a calm that he didn't mirror the panic he was actually feeling, "Hello, Lady Alyssa. Fine evening it is today, is it not"? Lady Alyssa graciously smiled at him, "Yes, of course it is Lord Jungkook. How are you faring today? Oh, this is my daughter Solji in case you have not met her". Solji gracefully curtsied in her periwinkle floaty dress that showed off her waifish frame in the best light.

He continued in an unaffected tone, "And where is your companion, Lady Solji? Y/N is it"? Solji nodded as she replied, "She has decided to retire to the countryside for a while. Her father left her a countryside residence and so she has chosen to depart early before the season ends so that she can celebrate Christmas over there". Lady Alyssa sighed, stating in a resigned tone, "Anyhow she has no prospects of marriage with how she looks and conducts herself, better she is away from polluting the rest of the ton with her incessant cynicism and gloom".

Jungkook nodded at these statements seeming calm as a cucumber on the outide, whereas he was internally rattled at the happenings imparted to him. She had left? After so many years, she had decided to just leave? Evidently she had gotten tired of not being enough for London. But how could she leave without telling him?Without even an announcement of her departure?

A little voice in Jungkook's head gave him the blatant answer--not like she had any friends to inform of her departure. And not like he was her husband/brother/legal guardian, who she would have to inform of her comings and goings. After his blasting statement 7 years ago, the few friends she did have, left her --frightened of being associated with her ill repute by merely even conversing with her, or being seen in her presence.

She was a free bird, and Jungkook was hating the fact.

She had left him to play his own game. The pyramid only remained so, when there were people at the bottom. Sure, there were others he could and had manipulated to stay at the bottom, but he wanted her to remain there. Not for her to exit the game altogether.

Y/N was not allowed to be happy or have a Christmas, after what his mother had been through---he would definitely ensure this.

#bts x plus size y/n #jungkook x y/n #historical romance #eventual smut #angst #comedy #duke jungkook #jungkook x chubby reader #body negativity #body shaming #plus size y/n #y/n x bts #chubby y/n x bts #jungkook x plus size y/n #bts x y/n

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the-other-art-blog · 4 months ago

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Benophie wish list: Side plots

There's no way around it, Bridgerton has left only 15-18% of the total screen time to the main couple according to these graphs from tw. Individual screen time for the main characters changes, but this is an ensemble. Side plots took almost 50% of the total s3 screen time.

So, we're going to have side plots whether we want them or not, and frankly, they're necessary. Side plots ensure that the audience comes back season after season. I, for example, wouldn't have come back just for Kanthony or Polin if Benedict weren't in the mix.

Eloise (set up for s5)

I bet we will know what Eloise learned about the world during her visit to Scotland. Plus, I'm pretty sure Sophie will be her maid, which will open her eyes to a new social class: servants. Sophie will open her eyes to different views on marriage. For her, marriage is freedom. If El is s5, she needs to understand that marriage is a wonderful and exciting thing if you're with the right person (aka Philip Crane).

Sophie's witty personality and sass are perfect to counter Eloise. I think both women will enjoy the challenge and thrive because of it.

Frannie, John and Michaela

I think they will show the infertility storyline now so that by the time John dies there will be a son or Michaela will be able to inherit the title. I also hope they show Michaela being the biggest flirt and rake. What if she meets Ben at one of the parties! I'll talk more about Fran and Ben later.

The Battle of the Maids

Probably one of the funniest side plots for the matriarchs + more scenes about servants. In the book, Araminta steals maids and fights with confrontations with Portia and Violet about it. This would be a chance to bring back Polly Walker for a cameo + Lady D and maybe the Queen! It plays into the main story because that is how the Bridgertons have an opening for Sophie. Plus, the show has referenced a similar problem: in s2 Portia accuses Lady Cowper of stealing a maid, then in s3 when Lord Remington tells Pen that a Lady stole the host's housekeeper and that's why she didn't get invited to that ball.

Polin/LW

Jess already mentioned there's still a story to tell with Lady Whistledown. Now that Pen is no longer hiding, it would be interesting to see if the column retains its success. The allure to LW was her anonymity because she seemed impartial and therefore reliable. But if a Bridgerton is writing, how are people supposed to believe her? I wonder if this will play into Benophie. LW was very kind to Sophie, she never put in doubt Violet's story and always wrote good things about her. But, who is going to believe Pen's word when she tries to defend Sophie. Of course, she's going to do it, she's a Bridgerton. Moreover, her status as a wallflower allowed her to recollect information by hearing gossip or watching, but now that everyone knows who she is, they will be careful not to say anything near her. Or, they will try to manipulate her to spread false gossip.

Violet and Marcus

I think this will continue in Benophie season. I don't know if this will distract her from noticing that Ben is flirting with a maid or if it will make her ship Benophie even more. I plan to write a separate post on Violet and Ben's relationship. Her romance will make her want romance for her children even more and Ben already stated that Violet is obsessed with epic love stories.

The Queen

I don't know what they can do with her. The sparkler storyline was so stupid, but she was ok in part 2. I was hoping for the queen to be furious at Bridgerton because once again her match didn't work. But she seemed fine. Although, now that LW is out she's going to remember that the Bridgetrons always ignore her. Either she wants to meddle in Benedict's business or she completely ignores the family, which makes Violet nervous. Maybe they are falling out of grace with QC, and this makes Benophie story even more scandalous.

I know there's the theory that Sophie may be an illegitimate granddaughter of the queen. We'll see.

I do want QC to have something to do, even if it's just at the end of the season. I really want a scene between Benedict and QC, if only because Golda loves Luke T.

The Mondriches

Jess said that the show will continue to explore the friendship between Benedict and Will. So, maybe they help him realize how much Sophie means to him and that the sacrifice is worth it. I suppose they will continue hosting balls and being part of society.

Kanthony

I don't think they will have more than a cameo, tbh. Maybe they'll be there at the Masquerade and Benophie's wedding if there is a wedding. But Simone and Johny are too successful now, they won't have much time. I will also write more about Ben and Anthony in another post, but I hope we have a chance to revisit Sienna and show Anthony being concerned about his brother. I wrote a little scene in AO3 about it.

All of these side plots can be related to Benophie giving other characters their screen time while also focusing on the main couple.

Who shouldn't come back:

The Featherington sisters

They're done, they did well this season, and they had their redemption arc.

But there's no space for them! These are 8 sideplots!

Cressida

I used to like the theory where the Cowpers were Sophie's family but after s3, I want her out for good. Instead of showing remorse for her bullying, she indulged in self-pity for 8 episodes. And the worst part is that people bought it. At least book!Cressida was a bitch and she owned it.

I'd love to hear your thoughts about it!

#bridgerton #benophie #benophie wish list #eloise bridgerton #violet bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #francesca x john #michaela stirling #polin #kanthony

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mothmothm0th · 4 months ago

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Strangeness of In the Attic, or Foxglove's Perfectly Ordinary Break

It was quarter past two in the afternoon, which meant it was teatime soon, which meant Miss would be waking up soon, which meant Foxglove was right on schedule. It had watered the house plants, tended the garden, and fed the pond monster. It had placed empty casks of wine at the ends of three dead end tunnels and sent out invitations to three of Miss' least powerful enemies. That meant it was time for the task Foxglove dreaded the most: dillying the dallies.

Foxglove did not want to dilly the dallies. The mere fact that there was a task Miss could assign that Foxglove would prefer to decline if given the chance caused a stutter in its clockwork. Miss' consistent insistence Foxglove do it regardless pushed Foxglove to the limits of its Purpose. Fifteen minutes of such activity that would neither benefit nor hinder Miss. How could Miss punish it so?

Foxglove knew why, of course. It had collapsed one evening mere minutes before its vesper maintenance. Miss had taken this failure as the unforgivable strike against Her that Miss ought have. Miss wished to make this punishment task hourly. For every sixty minute block, Foxglove would have to spend twenty simply doing nothing. Cruel! And unusual! But Miss was merciful and allowed Foxglove to haggle its punishment down to a single dillying every two days. For that reason, Foxglove did not complain about the two percent loss to its productivity. Too much, anyway. Foxglove permitted itself a small amount of complaining. Complaining about dillying helped it fill it's dillying quota. With that thought in its little dolly head, Foxglove stomped up the cellar steps.

"It was that one's idea! It should do it!" came a cry from the parlor. It was Jessamine. Foxglove next heard Baneberry yell something back. Was Foxglove allowed to stop its fellow dolls from fighting? That would certainly count as benefiting Miss but perhaps Miss would see that it was an emergency. Jessamine and Baneberry were the best of friends. They should not be fighting!

Foxglove passed by Buttonbush in the kitchen. It looked fantastic in its big poofy maid's dress. Buttonbush was busy preparing tea and lunch; Foxglove didn't want to interrupt it. Being the focal character can be taxing and Buttonbush deserved to remain a mere cameo this time.

"...its small hat!"

Whatever Jessamine said about Baneberry's small hat, it must have been very rude indeed. When Foxglove entered the parlor, it took Baneberry several seconds to notice it and not even a beat for Jessamine to be filled with regret and fear. Rambling apologies poured out and drowned out Baneberry's tears. On a sofa in the corner of the room, Snowdrop read The Goodest Doll and Other Scary Stories in perfect ignorance of the cacophony surrounding her. A blissful Purpose.

"Jessamine, Baneberry!" Foxglove called for their attention. It had seen Miss do this so many times before. Fists digging into its sides, leaning slightly forward. Foxglove was a visage of Miss in doll form. The effect was immediate. Foxglove did relish its ability to bring its sister-dolls in line.

"This one wants to know why Jessamine and Baneberry were fighting!"

The two dolls glanced at each other and opened their mouths. A cacophany of explanations ensued, and Foxglove nearly wished it was dillying the dallies. Two accountings of misgivings and recounted insults brought Foxglove no closer to an understanding.

Just as Foxglove was about to give up -sixteen minutes till the end of dillying-, Snowdrop cleared her throat; purely an affectation of course. Though, perhaps its voicebox was rusty from disuse.

"Baneberry wanted to search the attic with Jessamine. Jessamine didn't want to," Snowdrop said.

"If Baneberry wants to be a witchling some day, Baneberry can't be afraid of attics!"

"Jessamine knows attics are scary and full of terrors!"

Foxglove shushed them both. "Why does Baneberry want to go to the attic?" it asked.

"This one heard a noise!" Baneberry said. "This one was reading a book on doll witches in its room when it heard a 'thump!' from upstairs!" It emphasised its point with a 'thump!'-style gesture.

"Baneberry is s-silly! Miss said the attic is e-empty!"

"But this one heard it! It heard the 'thump!'" Another 'thump!'-style gesture.

Before Jessamine could restart the argument in earnest, Foxglove raised an index finger. It was another one of Miss' gestures. It had an idea. Surely there was nothing in the attic that would be of consequence to Miss. This was the perfect way to dilly the dallies! Foxglove was a genius!

"This one recommends we explore together!"

Jessamine and Baneberry looked at Foxglove in stunned silence. They glanced at each other, then turned back to Foxglove.

"Is Foxglove punishing this one and Baneberry?" Jessamine asked. Baneberry nodded along furiously.

A punishment? Hmm... As far as either doll knew, Foxglove was still on the clock, as it were. Neither doll knew of Miss' orders for it. If it said it was a punishment, they would have to follow along, and since they were on break, it wouldn't even hurt productivity. Surely this was an act neither beneficial or harmful to Miss! Thus, Foxglove nodded.

"Th-then... This one thinks Jessamine and this one have no choice," Baneberry said. There was a hint of regret in its girlish voice. It had wanted to offload the scary stuff to Jessamine, after all.

And speaking of, Jessamine had gone pale. Metaphorically, of course. Its bronze faceplate was physically incapable of such an act. Yet, there was a kind of stillness in its frame that was not Still at all.

"It shall be fine," Foxglove said. "With a party of free, these ones can triumph over the attic with ease."

"Excuse me. That's not even a complete light party," Snowdrop said without lifting her head from her book.

"Are you volunteering?" Foxglove asked. Perhaps it could extend its reasoning to 'punish' her too.

"I'm not," she said. "Merely commenting. I have important books to read."

"Then these ones shall be a lighter party!" Foxglove proclaimed triumphantly. Jessamine groaned. Baneberry fiddled with the thin brim of its hat. Neither argued, however, which Foxglove took as assent. Eleven minutes till the end of dillying time. Eleven minutes was plenty of time to look through an attic. Foxglove clapped its hands together. "To the attic!"

Foxglove had never actually been to the attic. Miss never went there either. There was a certain *aura* about the place. Foxglove could swear the air in the immediate vicinity of the stairs leading up there has significantly mustier than anywhere else in the cottage or even its cellar complex. Even the floor around the stairs seemed somehow withered, nails rusted. It even creaked a little, no matter how delicate one stepped. With each step upwards, the decay seemed worse and worse. Paint seemed to chip away like fraying cloth, vibrant red giving way to the silver of dead wood. Was it like this from disuse alone? Or was there something else going on? There was but one way to find out. Up, and up.

At the very summit of the stairs, Jessamine laid its hand on Foxglove's shoulder. Poor doll didn't even have the willpower to apply any force. "Please, let's turn back," it said. How did it manage to be so expressive with its fear with its unmoving faceplate? Beside it, Baneberry didn't seem to be faring much better. It had enabled its floatation enchantment. Perhaps that was the smart thing to do. Foxglove certainly did not truly trust the wood underfoot.

"This one is not afraid of attics," Foxglove said. And yet, the layer of rust creeping across the door handle did stir some hesitation. The things it did to dilly the dallies. Foxglove laid its hand on the handle. Despite its gentle grip, it nevertheless felt rust crumble against its palm. If only Miss hadn't given it a sense of touch. If only.

Foxglove turned the handle and pushed. It only barely budged. Foxglove pulled, and the door didn't even do that. Jessamine took a close look, tapping its brass lips. "The door is stuck," it said. Baneberry giggled. Laughter is a common response to acute anxiety, Foxglove knew. But indeed, exposed wood, a bit of humidity, and enough time had together jammed the thing stuck.

"Can Jessamine help this one?" Foxglove asked, but only after leaving a very, very shallow dent in the door in the shape of its shoulder. The door took 1d1-1 bludgeoning damage; Foxglove took 1d4 morale damage plus 1d2 from asking Jessamine. How dreadful!

"This one thought that one would ask it *before* hurting itself," Jessamine chortled. It gestured to Foxglove to step aside as it raised its leg. Critical hit! The door swung right open. A powerful wind blew stale, stale air in the trio's faces. As if books had grown old and died, turned to dust. In that moment, Foxglove was thankful Miss had crafted its nose without the ability to get itchy.

"It stinks," Jessamine said. Foxglove agreed. It smelled like... sulphur. Just like lake monster feed. Wait. Foxglove patted the pockets of its maid dress. A slight squish. Oh. Apologies were exchanged.

Tentatively, Foxglove stepped in the room. The floorboards creaked in a way that reminded it of a dying ox. No, really! It was as if one of those things the boys in the internet radio shows had to make funny sounds on cue! The expression on Baneberry's dollish little face convinced Foxglove the attic hadn't already drained its sanity points. The oxen plank was real. Carefully avoiding the oxen plank, Jessamine followed in. Baneberry floated along.

The attic seemed oddly devoid of colour. Ash, dust, and that silver of dead wood. Even Jessamine's brass seemed to gather a thin layer of patina. Unless that pale green was its nausea. Foxglove didn't know. It didn't ask, also. In the grey, the dolls found themselves surrounded by crates, crates, and more crates.

"This one senses magicks," Baneberry whispered. It was glancing about the room, arms close to its chest.

"Where from? Which kind?" Foxglove asked. Baneberry was far more sensitive to such things than either it or Jessamine was. One time, Baneberry had caught a stray conundrum floating about in Foxglove's room. Foxglove didn't believe it until Baneberry had contained the conundrum in a cipher-solution casket. Foxglove could, so it claimed, tell from its complexity that the conundrum had been in the room for a couple of weeks --likely since that experiment with the pizza toppings. Foxglove still wasn't sure what a conundrum actually was but after it was contained, Foxglove had an easier time with its puzzle games again. Which is to say, Foxglove trusted Baneberry on these matters.

"This one doesn't know. Everywhere. The whole attic. It feels evil."

"Of course it's evil. It's an attic," Jessamine said.

"No! Not like that. An attic's evil is supposed to just be semiotic. It's a signifier of sorts for the inherent evil of the past. But this attic is..." Baneberry tapped its lip. "Ontologically evil. Like a mistake in the possibility space."

Jessamine glanced at Foxglove. Clearly, Baneberry had never found a conundrum in *its* room.

"Is it dangerous?" Foxglove asked.

"This one isn't sure. This one thinks it might be nothing. Perhaps the mistake-ness this one senses is just what attics signify. This one doesn't know. This one hasn't been in an attic before. This one doesn't like being in the attic. This one wants to leave."

Foxglove consulted the ticking of its clockwork. Four minutes left on its dillying shift. Four minutes was too long to be idle, yet not enough to begin anything. No, Foxglove had to stick to this course. "This one wants you to stay," it said.

Baneberry floated erratically but found a brave face. "Yes, miss," it said. Jessamine groaned like a sinking cruise ship. Seemed like it too was harbouring some ideas which Foxglove's words had run aground. Took the wind right out of its sails, ran into an iceb- I'll stop.

Something glinted in the far corner of the room. Through the monochrome, a faint speck of gold peeked out from under a linen sheet. Foxglove tippy-toed around the crates blocking its path. It wished it had Baneberry's floaty spell. Still, it managed it, and without splinters, too. Looking behind, Baneberry struggled to lift Jessamine off the ground. Jessamine could have simply walked through the stack, Foxglove thought. Tossed them aside, punched a hole... Perhaps Jessamine was showing respect to the semiotics at play.

The three dolls gathered around the linen sheet. From here, up close, it was clear that it was hiding a painting. The golden glint had come from its antique frame. Rather an ornate frame at th- a simple frame of straight li- a frame reminiscent of baroq- a frame styled after a headache. Foxglove wanted to look away. It couldn't. It didn't want to lay a hand on the sheet. The linen felt like velvet. Nothing good could come of unveiling the portrait. Its hand gripped the sheet and--

Jessamine grabbed Foxglove's wrist like a vice. The pain snapped Foxglove to its senses and it let go of the coarse and damp sheet.

"There's a portrait in every attic," Baneberry said, its voice quiet and frail. "Without fail, there's a portrait."

"These ones should leave."

Foxglove's inner clock ticked uncertainty. How long was there left on its dillying? No, no. Regardless of whatever else, it needed to know. This wasn't about obeying Miss' commands anymore. Foxglove raised its hand to silence Jessamine's compaints. No matter how much Jessamine groaned, Foxglove would stay. And if it stayed, so did Jessamine. Foxglove reached for the sheet again. Three ticks of its clockwork. Tick, tick, tick, pull! A great many grains of sand fell on Foxglove's shoes.

And then there was sand everywhere. It poured in like a river. Sand, sand, sand. Before any of the dolls could say sandcastle, they were knee deep in sand. Waist deep. A scorching wind blew in Foxglove's face. The portrait kept spewing sand. A strange person of indistinct gender with their mouth open, only their top row of teeth and wide open eyes visible through the stream of sand. Sand, absolute sand...

And the scorching sun against Foxglove's eyelids. Was it over? Had it been sent to hell? Something jerked its shoulder.

"Wake up," the something said in Baneberry's voice. "Wake up!"

Foxglove's first thought upon seeing the open skies was to wonder at the majesty. Perfectly blue, nary a cloud or girder in sight. Hey, wait a second. Where was the attic? There was a ceiling there. It's gone now. The shock jolted Foxglove upright. Sand fell off its hair and onto its shoulders. Irritating. It would take forever to get its clothes cleaned now, what with sand's property of getting everywhere. Hopefully the coarse texture wouldn't harm its textiles.

"This is a desert," Jessamine noted. "Sahara, if this one were to guess. Foxglove, this is that one's fault."

Foxglove nodded. No use arguing that. No, it was best to seek some direction. Had they crashed a plane here, their best option would have been to remain with the wreckage. But there was nothing, absolutely nothing. Although, and Foxglove knew its magickal knowledge was lacking, if the portrait had teleported them to Sahara, then the attic would still bear traces of that magick. One does not punch a hole in spacetime and leave no mark.

"Destinations seldom do, however. The outgoing hole scabs easier," Baneberry explained. Foxglove hoped that verb was a metaphor of sorts.

Meanwhile, Jessamine was staring into the distance. Perhaps the circumstances were too much for it to handle, Foxglove thought. Only, then Baneberry joined in. What could have caught their attention so? Foxglove trained its focus to where it thought the others were looking and... In the distance, it saw it glimmer. It looked like a faint outline. And a cross inside, like a window. But it couldn't be. It's...

"Just a mirage," Jessamine sighed.

"No no no," Baneberry said, wagging its index finger in the air. "This one thinks... This one thinks that window is not a mirage!"

"Then what does that one think it is?"

"It's a window!"

Another groan from Jessamine. Baneberry seemed serious, though.

"This one thinks that mirage is actually the attic window!"

"Then that means..." Foxglove trailed off.

"That means it's not a mirage," Baneberry exclaimed. "This," it plucked at the air. "Is the mirage!" And it tore a hole in the Saharan air. Through it, Foxglove could see grey wood. They were in the attic still! Baneberry tore at the hole, shredding it away like old wallpaper till it could fit its head through. Jessamine rushed in to help it, cutting into the mirage with a survival knife. Foxglove simply stood there, dumbfounded.

And then, poof! The mirage was gone, reduced to a thick layer of dust covering each and every surface. The three dolls looked like they were carved from marble, though only until Baneberry sneezed. Miss really Made it with the ability to sneeze? Oh, but there was that distinct itch in Foxglove's nose too. How long had it been? The question was expelled through its nose. And then, a sound like a gong going off. Jessamine, too? The three dolls sneezed and sneezed. In no time at all, the air was foggy with dust. Dust, swirling.

Foxglove's hair blew in the wind. Wind? Wind. It circled the attic and gathered the dust into a whirlwind. Foxglove had no hope but to close its eyes and brace itself. The wind howled in its ears and nearly drowned out Baneberry's cries.

And then, quiet. Foxglove opened its eyes again. It saw nothing. Or, well, as Snowdrop might say, Foxglove didn't see nothing because nothing is the absence of things, and Foxglove did see... something. It and its fellow dolls had been swallowed up by a deep dark void which an entity lacking in erudition might mistake for nothing. Another one of the attic's illusions, it must be. Baneberry's statements about ontological evil seemed irrefutable.

Something else Snowdrop might have noted, were she there, would be that the only time one sees dust floating in the air is when it has light to reflect off of. Snowdrop might also add that this is true of anything, really, but that in a void where one's compatriots are lit by some unknown means, which seemed independent of actual light, one might miss the presence of dust. And indeed, Foxglove, Jessamine, and Baneberry did not notice the dust permiating their surroundings.

Not until the dust coalesced, anyway. Great winds again surged towards a common end and dust bunnies and specks of sand and little chips of paint formed together a dreadful shadow. Jessamine steeled itself, Baneberry spun in the air. Foxglove too could not pretend to be brave.

"Whooo the fuuuck are yooou?" the winds and the detritus asked.

"These ones are dolls." A brave voice against the wind. Was that a hint of glee in Jessamine's voice? "Who in the name of copulation is that one?"

"Iii aaam... Iii aaam..." The coalescing figure waited a moment. Fair dues, it must be dreadfully difficult to speak when you are a pile of dust and wind. A moment of courtesy, to permit the being to solidify. The cloud took shape, more human, though by way of a giant snake. Perhaps an eastern dragon? Snowdrop would know better...

"I am," the being's voice boomed, "that nagging feeling, the haunting presence. I am that which you would rather fucking forget. I am what you avoid, what you dread."

Jessamine gestured something. Foxglove agreed.

"Where there is an attic, there I am. And you, 'dolls', have disturbed my divine realm!"

Foxglove glanced over to Baneberry. Their eyes met.

"And thus I shall rain my divine judgement upon you little fucks!"

Jessamine dug its heels to the void-that-was-ground. Baneberry steadied itself in the void-that-was-air. Foxglove reached into the fabric-that-was-pocket.

"Take this divine L and become dust within my realm!"

Two things happened at once. First, the being claiming itself to be the god of attics formed a great big hand and brought it down upon the dolls with enough force to shatter continents. Second, the trio of dolls sprung into action at once. Foxglove threw lake monster feed in the air. Globs of sulphur flew against the divine dust cloud and were immediately aerosolised. Baneberry cast an incantation, a blue flame which followed the trail of monster feed into the cloud. The moment it connected with the evil gestalt, it conflagrated into a fierce cerulean bonfire. Lit by fire, Jessamine channelled all its love for its Miss into its knife handle and drew from the sheath a shining blade of justice. With a single stroke, the blade tore through god and realm both. The light overwhelmed, and for the third time, Foxglove closed its eyes.

When Foxglove opened its eyes again, the attic was just an attic. Ordinary, dull, full of old clutter. The three dolls walked the stairs in silence. Buttonbush was waiting there to guide them to the veranda where Miss and Snowdrop awaited them. Foxglove struggled to meet Miss' gaze, and when she dusted it off, it could only muster a creak of a thanks. Jessamine and Baneberry weren't much for conversation either.

Later that evening, Miss gathered her dolls to discuss matters. No mention of the attic was made, though Foxglove was excused from its dillying duties.

In the dead of night, as Foxglove laid in its bed, Snowdrop knocked on its door. They conversed for a long time and though Snowdrop didn't know much, it had read of a being like the one Foxglove had met. Not a god, just something above humans and a grammatician's worst nightmare.

They couldn't even call themselves godslayers...

#empty spaces #dollposting #original writing #gods this one took forever #i should edit this but i just want it done and dusted

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