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fandomwriterstuff · 2 months ago

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Sparks Fly

Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Words: ~7.4k

Loosely inspired by Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift

You would be attending your seventh year at Hogwarts in the next few days, and, as a muggle-born witch, you would be sorely missing your iPhone. Modern things like cell phones, smart watches, and ballpoint pens weren’t allowed on castle grounds. So there you were, the day before taking the train back to school, downloading as many songs as you could into your old iPod nano. It was old tech, but it was sturdy, it could hold a charge, and it was easily concealable. Muggle contraband was frowned upon but you figured your head of house would be understanding if you got caught.

Professor Granger-Weasley was a legend, and you were lucky to be in Gryffindor house under her watchful eye. You’d heard even more wonderful things about her predecessor, Professor McGonagall, but that was before your time. Professor Granger-Weasley was one of the rebel witches and wizards who took down Voldemort in the second wizarding war.

Professor Longbottom was also among the list, but you had a huge girl crush on your head of house. It was hard not to, she was independent and powerful while still maintaining her femininity and soft touch.

The only thing you weren’t looking forward to this year was seeing your ex-girlfriend. A Ravenclaw who was more focused on her studies than your relationship, you were still shocked and heartbroken this past spring when she broke things off.

However, you thought as you walked up to the castle for your last year, this is going to be my busiest year yet, no room to worry about romance.

You see, you’d be taking extra classes this year. Your head of house had expressed to you that you could use her time turner to make sure you could attend all the classes that you wanted. You were ambitious, and headstrong. It was going to be awesome.

The issue, however, was that as you were going to use it for the first time on day one of the school year, your ex ran smack into you, causing you to lose your grip on the spinning rings that encompassed the tiny hourglass. It also caused you to crash into the corner you were hiding in and knock your head into the wall.

Suddenly your vision was filled with a blurring whirlwind of students, all in Hogwarts uniforms, walking as if rewinding on double speed. Once you regained your ability to move (ow, your head hurt), you paused the spinning of the time turner and took a deep breath.

Fuck.

“Fuck,” you groaned, rubbing the back of your head and coming out of the corner. You needed to figure out what time it was. Unfortunately, you were met with another student running straight at you, red and gold tie flying out of his cloak and fluttering behind him as he looked back. “Fuck!” You backed up but there was nowhere to go, he turned at your voice and all you got a glimpse of was a pair of wide eyes behind a pair of thick glass and a head of curly dark hair. He knocked your head back into the wall and the only thing you could think of as you felt a searing pain in your skull was that there was no way you’d gone far enough back to see Harry Potter’s days at Hogwarts.

When you woke up, you were in the infirmary. Blinking, you looked around and the bespectacled boy, who was decidedly not Harry Potter (but who had a very strong resemblance to him), perked up at your alertness.

“Hey, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to run into you. Was in a bit of a hurry. Madam Pomfrey’s taking good care of you, though,” his words blurred into the background as you took in your surroundings. Things looked similar, but your infirmary had a different nurse by a different name. You didn’t know a Madam Pomfrey. You must have gone back further than you thought. The thought sent a panicked jolt through you as your heart rate skyrocketed. Fuck.

“What… Um,” you paused, not sure who to trust with this information. But you didn’t have anybody else, and this guy had waited by your bedside to make sure you were okay. “What year is it?” His tanned skin blanched and his eyes went wide.

“Have you got a worse concussion than I thought? I didn’t think I ran into you that hard. I’ll call for-” you reached out and grasped his arm before he could stand.

“That’s not it,” you sighed. “I was using a time turner and my ex girlfriend ran into me and I messed up my calculations and I was supposed to go back about an hour and a half and I think I’ve come back like… several years.” You put your best pleading look on your face to make yourself seem genuine, you needed him to believe you.

“Well,” he drew the word out, and you sort of liked the way his lips wrapped around it. He had a nice voice. “I can help you figure that out, even if it does sound a bit unbelievable. What year did you come from?” He was smiling awfully disarmingly, and you sighed, internally bracing yourself.

“Twenty twenty-four.”

Your assailant went through what looked like all the stages of grief before landing on hesitant acceptance. So you were further back than you thought.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this,” he said in that smooth voice, and you closed your eyes against the headache you knew was coming. “It’s nineteen seventy-seven.”

“James, did you hit the poor girl so hard she forgot what year it was?” Another voice approached, but your mind was reeling. 1977. You were trying to think of any famous James’ but that’s such a common name and you were always awful at wizarding history.

That was, until the second person walked up. Sirius Black. A very young Sirius Black.

“Sirius Black?” Your brain-to-mouth filter must have broken.

James looked over at you, eyebrow raised, as if saying I thought you were from the future.

“He’s,” you paused, both their inquisitive sets of eyes on you. “He’s famous where I’m from,” you muttered, eyes searching around. If that was Sirius Black, this must be James Potter. Oh, Merlin. You were in for it.

“She’s from the future,” James deadpanned to his friend, and you facepalmed. Like, literally. You slapped your hand to your face.

However, Sirius seemed to take his friend at his word, only raising an eyebrow at that bold declaration.

“Please don’t tell anyone else,” you groaned and turned your legs over the side of the cot you were on to make your way to standing, despite your pounding headache.

“Well we’re going to have to tell Moony and Wormtail,” James added matter-of-factly. “Friends don’t keep secrets this big from each other.” You groaned and stretched, cracking your aching back in the process.

“You can do that. I need to make a plan,” you took a step forward. Or, you tried to. Maybe you were actually concussed, because you wobbled a bit and nearly fell over. You would have crumbled to the floor if not for James and Sirius’ quick reflexes.

“I may be worse off than I originally thought,” you grumbled. “But I am fine,” you pulled your arms and waist free from their strong arms and took a much slower step. “See? I’m fine.” You were a bit lightheaded and your head hurt more than a bit. But if you were going to fix this, you’d need to see the headmaster.

You knew they were watching you, and you were studiously ignoring it. So studiously, in fact, that when you finally made it to the entrance, you ran into what must have been either an immovable object or an unstoppable force for the millionth time that day. Yet again, before you crumpled into the floor like a broken toy, strong arms reached out and helped you up.

“Sorry about that, beautiful,” you blinked slowly and looked up into another magnificent face. This one was littered with scars and freckles.

“They don’t make boys this pretty where I’m from,” as soon as the words left your mouth you wished you’d died on the spot. However, the boy (who must have been Remus Lupin) only smiled at you indulgently.

“On second thought,” James called out. “I think I knocked her into the wall harder than I thought.”

That was your introduction to the Marauders. You met Peter soon after. He’d been distracting the professor James was running from. They walked you to the Gryffindor common room, explaining that it might be best to recuperate while the headmaster was out of town.

“I really am sorry for running into you,” James was apologizing for the umpteenth time, and you were beginning to get the feeling that he was a real softie. Big muscles, strong jaw, but a big teddy bear inside.

“It’s alright,” you said for the millionth time. “You were the second person to knock me into a wall headfirst today, and the first time I think was on purpose. So you’re really in my good graces. You’re just clumsy.”

“Someone knocked you into a wall on purpose?” Remus looked rather concerned, eyebrows pulling together from where he perched in a comfy looking armchair in an even comfier looking sweater.

“Oh yeah, you did say that your ex ran into you,” James nodded to himself. “Though I didn’t think she did it on purpose.” You were trying to ignore the raised eyebrows of your new acquaintances. Maybe people weren’t cool about bisexuals in the seventies?

“Yeah well she was a Ravenclaw. They are notoriously bad at interactions with other people,” you grumbled. “I thought I could change her,” you shrugged humorlessly. “I was wrong. She still harbors ill feelings towards me.”

They were still looking at you quietly.

The silence dragged on.

“Look, I know it’s like the nineteen hundreds but if you’re homophobes we’re going to have issues,” you put on your deadliest glare (or… whatever you could put on your face with the headache plaguing you).

Peter barked out a laugh, which seemed a bit unlike him. He’d been a quiet and nice boy, nothing like the traitor you knew him to grow up to be. Four sets of eyes snapped to him and he rolled his eyes.

“You don’t have to worry about us being homophobes,” Peter elaborated, and, well… You supposed you would have to take him at his word. You shrugged.

“So, if the headmaster is gone, what do I do? I don’t want to mess with the time turner and end up even further back. I don’t even know if it goes forward,” you asked when the night was deepening.

“You could talk to Minnie in the morning,” Sirius recommended. Right, they had mentioned Professor McGonagall at some point earlier. You were going to fangirl to death.

“But I don’t have clothes or a room or identification. All I have is what’s in my pockets which is literally just my,” you reached in and felt around. “A handful of galleons and my iPod.” You were met with questioning looks and you sighed. Right. 1977. “It plays music.”

You pulled it out of your pocket, the old corded headphones all knotted up. As you untangled them you explained that you could download digital music onto it. You weren’t sure if it made any sense to them, so you told them you’d show them some other time.

“It’s muggle tech, and it’s from the early 2000s. So it’s old by my standards,” you shrugged.

“Hey, what am I famous for?” Sirius finally asked after a beat of silence. You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. You couldn’t just tell him that he wrongfully spent twelve years in Azkaban. You’d have to word it carefully.

“You saved the child of the prophecy and helped in the effort to win the war.”

“The war?”

“I feel like I am genuinely going to fuck something up if I tell you any more,” the words were said apologetically. You weren’t sure what else to say.

“Well, we can always ask Lily if they have an empty bed. Her roommate is always sneaking off to Ravenclaw tower to stay with her boyfriend,” Remus was back on task and you were grateful for the reprieve.

“Nah, they’re all there tonight. They’re having a lovers’ quarrel,” James replied, and your hopes of getting a good nights’ sleep shriveled up.

“Well then,” Sirius made a show of looking thoughtful. “You could stay in our room, though it’s against school rules to have a girl in the boys’ dormitory.” You weighed your options and only came to one conclusion.

“Rules were meant to be broken,” you smiled awkwardly. “That is, if you all don’t mind. I can sleep on the floor if you have an extra pillow.”

“Nonsense,” Sirius stood and reached his hand out to you, which you gratefully took. You were still a bit unsteady on your feet. “I’ll share with Jamesie and you can have my bed.”

James groaned loudly, complaining that Sirius was a cuddler and a portable heater once asleep, but you could see his tanned cheeks darkening with a flush. That was curious.

“As long as you don’t-” Sirius cut you off with a wave of his hand.

“Don’t worry. It’s not a hardship to help out someone in need,” he smiled over at you, and you tried to think back on his history. You were always awful at history but if you remembered correctly he moved in with the Potter’s sometime during his teenage years. Maybe he was paying the kindness forward.

The issue, however, was that you were in a room full of four boys in various states of undress. Pajamas was a loose term for what they wore. And you were still in your uniform.

“Here,” you looked up to see Remus leaning against Sirius’ bunk with a pile of clothes folded neatly in his grasp. “We’ve given you a few options since you don’t seem to have any sleeping clothes. James will keep watch outside the bathroom door if you want to clean up.” You looked over and the muscular boy was giving you a thumbs up. “We can send your uniform to be cleaned by the house elves overnight.” You nodded mutely, overwhelmed by the kindness of strangers.

“Thank you.” With that, you collected the stack of pajamas and James led you to the bathroom, which he quickly scouted and declared clear.

Once inside, you exhaled deeply. This was a ginormous clusterfuck.

You were glad, however, to find a towel and a bar of soap at the bottom of the stack. Cleaning up would definitely help clear your mind.

Once clean, you changed into a pair of sweatpants that were too long for you, a white t-shirt, and a sweater that must have belonged to Remus.

“Hey,” you cracked the door open and found James’ back facing you.

“You done?”

You hummed your assent and he turned, giving you a goofy smile.

“Those don’t fit you very well.”

“Not everyone is ten feet tall, you know,” you rolled your eyes and followed the boy back into the dorm room.

Once you were sat on Sirius’ bed, you felt the weight of your situation closing in on you, your heart pitter-pattering at breakneck pace.

“So,” you started, drawing the word out as you picked at your nails. “I think I’m probably gonna have a menty b pretty soon, so if you don’t mind I’ll just close the curtains and consider my existence in silence.” There was a pregnant pause and you battled on. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to deal with the feelings I’m feeling right now.”

More pause.

“What, in Merlin’s name, is a ‘menty b’?” Sirius’ eyebrows were up in his hairline and you choked on a laugh that sounded more like a sob.

“Uh, mental breakdown?” It sounded like a question when you said it, but it took a moment for you to realize that slang was a lot different in 1977 than it was in your time.

“Are you going to be alright?” That was Remus, and you were beginning to get the sense that he was reading your facial expressions and tone of voice more effectively than the others.

“Probably,” you shrugged. “But my other option is succumbing to the crushing meaninglessness of life, so,” you paused for drama this time. “I can suck it up, I just need a good cry and I’m not about to do that in front of four strangers.”

“Fair enough,” Sirius muttered to himself.

“So is everyone in the future so nihilistic?” Peter asked you, and you quirked an eyebrow at him. “What?” He asked, defensive. “Nietzsche was a wizard. He just dabbled in muggle philosophy from time to time.”

“Well, to answer your question, I would say that my generation is. But like nihilistic in the ‘nothing matters so I can do what I want’ way. Whereas the generation that preceded me is more ‘nothing matters and I’m fucking depressed about it’ way.”

You were met with confused looks. You sighed, there was no way you could explain the nuances of millennials, gen z, and gen alpha in one night.

“I’ll explain later. Goodnight, boys!” You smiled more cheerfully than you were feeling, and shut the curtains to Sirius’ bed, casting a silencing charm as you did so.

You inhaled deeply, and exhaled until you couldn’t anymore.

There’s nothing I can do tonight. Not until the headmaster is back. Tomorrow I’ll talk to the head of house and see about going to classes.

Until then…

You tucked your earbuds into your ears and selected a playlist that would maybe take your mind off the situation.

The way you move is like a full on rainstorm

And I'm a house of cards

You're the kind of reckless that should send me running

But I kinda know that I won't get far

And you stood there in front of me just

Close enough to touch

Close enough to hope you couldn't see

What I was thinking of

Drop everything now

Meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk

Take away the pain

'Cause I see sparks fly, whenever you smile

Get me with those green eyes, baby

As the lights go down

Gimme something that'll haunt me when you're not around

'Cause I see sparks fly, whenever you smile

You had the mind to turn off your iPod when you woke in the middle of the night, not wanting it to die. The next time you woke, it was to a knock on the wood frame of the bed.

“I’m up, I’m up,” you groaned and pulled open the curtains, the pinkish yellow early morning sun shining in.

“If you want to talk to Minnie, you’ll have to catch her before breakfast,” James was whispering, and you peeked out to see Remus, Peter, and Sirius still asleep in their beds.

“Why are you up?” You rubbed at your eyes and swung yourself out of bed, pleased to see your uniform had been returned by the house elves. “I mean, thank you,” you offered him a soft smile, which he returned tenfold. “But why are you up?”

“Gotta go for a run. I’ll see you later, no more running into walls, alright? Don’t want you doing any more damage to that pretty head of yours,” and with that, he was gone, leaving you flushed in the morning light.

Jeez, handsome and flirty. I’m not going to survive it here.

It wasn’t hard to find Professor McGonagall, and when she saw you, she stopped dead in her tracks.

“Hi, Professor, I’ve been looking for you,” you approached her slowly as she raised an eyebrow at you, and you took that as your sign to keep going. It all came out in one long sentence, but your nerves were getting the best of you, to be fair. “So I was using my time turner to go back to take an extra class but someone knocked into me and it went back too far, like fifty years too far approximately, and I don’t know how to get back and I’d like to talk to the headmaster but I hear he’s not here right now,” you inhaled super deeply and pushed on. “And I’m a really good student I swear, I just don’t want to miss any classes until I get back so I was wondering if you could help me out?”

Stunned. Flabbergasted. Shocked. That’s what you were expecting. What you got instead was exasperation.

“If this tomfoolery has to do with the mischievous boys in your house, I suggest you stop it now.”

“The - who?” Was all you could get out, and the exasperation only increased.

“Potter, Black, Lupin, Pettigrew. Do these names ring a bell?”

“Well yes, but only because I’ve just met them. I promise I’m not lying. I’m in Gryffindor, I go to Hogwarts, I’m a seventh year student and it’s autumn of 2024 where I’m from.”

She looked at you for a long time then, and you figured she could tell you were being truthful based on your desperation.

“We will discuss this with the headmaster as soon as he returns. I will have a schedule prepared for you by the end of the day and you will start tomorrow. You would do well not to bring attention to yourself Miss…”

You gave her your name.

“If you’ll excuse me, my day just got busier.”

When she was out of sight, you let out a big breath you’d been holding.

I can do this, I just need to lay low until the headmaster shows up.

“Hiya,” you whipped around at the new voice and cursed yourself for it, your head spiking with pain that you’d forgotten about. Maybe quick movements were to be avoided for the time being. “Haven’t seen you around here before, but you’ve got a Gryffindor tie on. Are you new?”

You were staring. You needed to stop staring. Start talking.

“Yes, I transferred from Beauxbatons.” The lie flowed out of you so smoothly you almost felt guilty.

“Why on earth would you leave a posh school like that to come here?” She was laughing, she had such a pretty laugh, and you found yourself smiling.

“It’s a long story,” you shrugged.

“Well, Miss Mysterious, I’m Lily Evans, you can sit with me at breakfast today if you’d like.”

It was just then that your stomach growled audibly.

But more importantly. Lily Evans. Holy shit.

You followed her to the great hall and sat down all in a state of numbness. She was an icon. A total badass. And you’d just met her.

“Hullo, boys. This here is my new friend. She just transferred from Beauxbatons. Go on, introduce yourself,” she was looking at you expectantly and you turned to look at the rest of the table. A few other incredibly attractive women and the four boys you met last night who were giving you wide eyes.

You gave your name with a tight smile and prayed they would play along.

They did, for now, but you weren't sure how long you could keep up lying in front of these legends. Sure, the boys knew about you, but you couldn’t expect them to keep a secret forever. Especially Peter, a known secret teller.

You explained to them that it was a short notice transfer and you wouldn’t have a schedule until tomorrow, but you’d been sorted into Gryffindor. Luckily, they didn’t ask any more questions and you were left to eat.

The day flew by and if you were being honest, the next few did as well. Professor McGonagall gave you a typical seventh year schedule so your first few days weren’t stressful. She also assigned you a single room in the girls dormitory and gave you more uniforms. It meant you were lonely a lot, and you found yourself sitting in the common room a lot, reading or doing homework while you plotted your return home.

It was Thursday of your first week in 1977 when Remus came to sit with you. You finished your homework reading and looked over at him. He was nice to be around, you could work in silence and still feel comfortable.

“Haven’t seen you outside of class in a few days, we’ve been a bit worried you’d gone back to the infirmary for that concussion,” he was giving you a disarmingly gentle smile and you found yourself returning it.

“No, just a headache now. And I’m really just waiting for the headmaster to get back so I can figure this all out. Though, I miss my roommates. Living in a single room is lonely.”

He frowned at that.

“Can’t have that, why don’t you come to Hogsmeade with us this weekend? You can grab some essentials that I’m sure you’re missing, and we can get some more time with you.”

You found, yet again, the heat rushing to your face at the thought of time spent with such handsome boys. You nodded anyway.

“I would like that.”

So, there you were, that Saturday, sitting in the Three Broomsticks with Sirius, James, and Remus (Peter was behind on his potions essay and was staying back). James and Sirius sat on one side of the booth, rather close together. You were beginning to think the three of them were in some sort of polyamorous situationship based on their casual proximity, their familiarity, and the sheer amount of physical contact they had with each other. But then you were seated next to Remus, whose sweater smelled of pine needles and wood and warm cozy things. And the reason you knew what he smelled like? He was seated so close to you that your thighs were maybe an inch apart, his arm slung across the back of the booth as he lounged back. He looked ever-so casual, but you were intensely aware of his presence.

His proximity to you and the general flirting you’d been the recipient of the last few days from the boys you sat with were the only reason you thought maybe they weren’t in a relationship. Because why would they flirt with you if they were? It was all so fucking confusing.

Your attention was drawn back to the topic at hand by a slight tapping against your shoulder. Sirius and James were arguing about something, and despite his touch, Remus looked engaged in the debate.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” James suddenly turned to face you.

“Yes, what do you think? Do you think Hufflepuff is going to beat us in the Quidditch finals this year?”

You scoffed a laugh.

“Hufflepuff hasn’t won a Quidditch final in sixty years. There’s no-” you cut yourself off abruptly, heart in your throat. “I need to stop talking.”

James was grinning, though.

“Told you so,” he stuck his tongue out at Sirius, and things were back to normal.

The next few days you were much more careful about what you said about the future. One slip up was minor, but it was really hard. The other thing you were struggling with was that the longer you stayed in 1977, the less you remembered why you had to keep your distance, why you had to be careful.

So, there you were, seated in the Gryffindor common room later that month, worried sick. The full moon had passed a few days ago and you hadn’t seen any of the boys outside of class since.

Gnawing your lip, you tried to get back into your novel.

“You said Sirius was famous where you’re from,” Remus suddenly dropped into the space beside you with a soft sigh, his arm draping around your shoulders.

You hummed your confirmation as Peter, James, and Sirius all filed through and greeted you on their way to their room.

“What about the rest of us?”

“What about you?”

He sighed, and you only noticed you were staring at him when he turned to look at you.

“You’re being intentionally obtuse,” he didn’t say it meanly, but you still felt guilty.

“I don’t think I should tell you why you’re all famous,” you mumbled, thinking about all of their horrible lives. His fingers started tracing shapes into the skin of your arm where they laid, and you found it difficult to concentrate.

“I suppose that’s fair,” and again, you were staring. You saw the muscles in his jaw tense and release as if he was thinking about something stressful. “I just want to know,” he pressed his free hand into his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just want to know what you know about-” he paused and seemed to lose his nerve, sighing deeply and resting his head against the back of the couch.

You took a short moment to admire his profile before putting him out of his misery. First, though, you checked that you were alone in the common room.

“You know, I think we all have issues. I mean, Sirius comes from a shitty family. Peter always gets left out of things. James always gets underestimated. My family disowned me when they found out I liked girls. But what I’m trying to say is, we all have issues and we have to find the people that care about us despite them, and love us because of them. That’s what we in the future like to call a Found Family. And yeah, family isn’t always the one you’re born into. Sometimes a family is a werewolf and three unregistered animagi.”

You’d been looking into each other's eyes since the start of your little rant, the soft look in his gaze turning into bewilderment.

“Really, it doesn’t matter why you’re famous, or what I heard about you before I met you,” you continued, taking a risk and gently holding his free hand between both of yours. “What matters is that you all helped me when I needed it, and I won’t forget it. And I’m forming my opinions of you based on what I know from your actions now, not what I read in a Daily Prophet clipping.”

“You’re amazing,” the words were quiet, spoken reverently. You were forgetting again why it was a bad idea to give in to their flirting.

“I mean, if you thought I was that amazing, you could just kiss me,” you shrugged, giving him a little grin. “Just saying.”

He huffed a little laugh through his nose before he leaned down and kissed you with the softest lips. It was so gentle and wonderful and you felt his eyelashes tickle your cheek as he cupped your jaw and it was all perfect. Just perfect.

“I meant to talk to you earlier about something but then the full moon happened and you were sitting here looking all beautiful and worried and I couldn’t help but ask if you thought I was a monster.” He pulled away a few inches to look at you, his long fingers still cupping your jaw. “But I don’t think I should wait. Because it would be dishonest,” you raised your eyebrows, asking him to go on. “Sirius and James and I are sort of,” he visibly struggled with the word he was looking for. “Well we’re sort of romantically involved, but it’s not a thing with a label,” he was grimacing, as if he knew you’d be mad at him. All you could do was smirk.

“I fucking knew it.”

“You - what?”

“Yeah I could absolutely tell.”

“Oh. Is that why you haven’t flirted back with us?”

“Well to be fair, only you and James have been flirting with me.”

“Sirius hasn’t? He talks about how pretty and nice and special you are all the time.”

“Well he thinks I’m a lesbian so maybe he’s just respecting my boundaries.”

“He-” Remus paused, thinking. “He definitely thinks you’re a lesbian.”

“I think we should prank him,” your statement got a good reaction, Remus laughing joyously and nodding along.

“Okay, what do you have planned?”

“Well, I’ve already somehow gained your affections,” he balked at you, unbelieving. “What? You’re like in the five most attractive people I’ve ever seen in my entire life, you’re smart, funny, popular, and you’re fucking kind. And I am a homeless time traveler with one pair of pajamas to my name.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, darling. But I'll have more time to convince you of that. Tell me about this prank.”

“I mean really it’s all to serve my selfish wants,” you laughed a little. “But if the three of you are in an unlabeled but ongoing polyamorous situationship, and all three of you are interested in me, I just think it could be… Let’s say mutually beneficial for the four of us to recognize and act on those feelings. And I think it would be funny for Sirius to find out I’m actually not a lesbian in a dramatic way. However,” you suddenly remembered your exes of years prior. “Who’s to say if you’re even interested in me in any way other than physically. I don’t know that, and I’m being awfully bold in assuming so. So maybe it’s a bad idea? Oh, fuck I’m going to actually have to move schools this is awful.” You were spiraling.

“Please, breathe,” Remus was looking down at you, frown twisted in concern. “I’m speaking for myself here, but I bet the boys would agree, I’m definitely interested in you. You’re gorgeous, dove. But you’ve also shown yourself to be strong willed, warm hearted, and a trusting and genuine person. The three of us boys have some weird will-they-won’t-they thing going on, and it’s frustrating because we have real feelings for eachother, but I’m pretty sure Jamie is the only one who has fully developed emotional skills. And, yeah, we’ve been intimate, but how does one tell his best mate that he wants more than that?” Remus rolled his eyes at himself. “It’s hard. But you made it so easy for us to fall for you. It’s so easy to care about you, so easy to want you.” You were too busy in your panic before to make eye contact but now you were looking into Remus’ blown pupils. “So it’s not crazy, what you’re suggesting. And I definitely think it would be mutually beneficial.”

So you sat on the two-seater sofa in the common room for several more hours whispering into the night, cuddled up to Remus and hatching a plan to get James to make a move on you, and how to reveal your bisexuality to Sirius.

My mind forgets to remind me you're a bad idea

You touch me once and it's really something

You find I'm even better than you imagined I would be

I'm on my guard for the rest of the world

But with you, I know it's no good

Things came to a head sooner rather than later. It was a Gryffindor victory party and James and Sirius were celebrating with the team. You’d spent the week sneaking glances with Remus, kissing sweetly in shadowed corners, and curling up together to read in the common room. You also spent the week being flirted with by James, who always knew how to make heat rise to your face.

You were maybe a bit tipsy an hour or so in, and a boy you didn’t know was asking you about your time at Beauxbatons and telling you how much better Hogwarts was. He was so glad you had come to this party-

“-because I’ve been wanting to talk to you-” you were saved by a similarly tipsy James slinging his arm around your shoulder.

“Hello, lovely,” his smile was brighter than the sun. Truly. You felt blessed just to have his gaze on you. “I saw you in the stands today, I’m glad you came,” the other boy wandered off, but you barely noticed.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” It was the right response, because you were gifted another beaming smile in return. “Plus, you look really good in the uniform.”

“Is that so?”

“Is what so?” Sirius was grinning as he walked up with three cups balanced in his hands, passing one to James and one to you, which you gratefully took.

“I was just telling James how delicious he looks in the Quidditch uniform,” you blinked innocently, and you could see the gears start to turn in Sirius’ head.

“Delicious?” James breathed the word, as if he hadn’t expected such a descriptive adjective to come out of your lips. It was just then that Remus swept Sirius away while he was distracted, and you clasped your fingers with James’, pulling him towards a darkened alcove.

“And where are you taking me, pretty girl?” His charm was back in full force and you preened under his attention.

“I just wanted to talk to you alone is all,” you replied, letting your back rest against the wall and using James as a privacy shield against the noise and lights of the party.

“Well, you’ve got me,” your fingers were still loosely clasped, and he laid his free hand ever-so-gently on your waist. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

“I have been scheming,” you started, and his dark eyes had an amused glint to them. “And I’ve been trying to get you to kiss me or ask me on a date, but it’s taking so long,” you drew the word out, whining, but in what you hoped was an endearing way. “And Remus and I thought-”

“Oh, so you’ve roped our dear Moony into your schemes now?” He was smiling softly, his affection for Remus and for you shining through.

“Yes, well, he’s the brains of the operation, I’m the muscle.” you drew your manicured fingers up to grasp at James’ bicep (and what a wonderful bicep it was).

“So, what did the two of you cook up then?”

“Well, Remus is off getting Sirius into position, and I am here seducing you.”

“And what does Sirius have to do with you seducing me?” It was nice, having him this close, only centimeters between you. You could feel the heat off his body, his breath against your cheek.

“Well, I’ve already gained Remus’ affections, and you flirt with me all the time so I was hoping seducing you would work and not totally backfire,” he was amused with your candor, you could tell. “And Sirius, well I’ve also got a major crush on him but he thinks I’m a lesbian.” You shrugged and James let out an incredulous laugh.

“You really were scheming, weren’t you?”

“Well when you’ve gotten emotionally attached to three amazing and beautiful boys who also seem to be pretty emotionally attached to each other,” you gave him a toothy smile. “You’ve got to jump at the chance.” You bit your bottom lip, the tiniest bit of anxiety creeping in. “Which leads me here, to you, in this dark alcove, baring my soul to you and hoping you’ll kiss me.”

“Well how could I deny you when you ask me so politely?” He whispered, adoration shining in his eyes for just a moment before he pressed forward, closing the gap between the two of you. James kissed you like he did everything he cared about: with passion and finesse. He was a great kisser, and he seemed happy to be kissing you, which was a wonderful experience.

The hand on your waist pulled you closer while the other rested at the nape of your neck, gently tilting you so he could explore your mouth better. You found yourself reaching up and feeling the muscles adorning his stomach and chest, your fingers trailing up until you could wrap your arms around his neck.

You only broke away to breathe, and when you looked into James’ adoring eyes, your heart picked up the pace. You hadn’t felt this way since… well, ever. James, Remus, and Sirius made you feel wanted and cared for. It was wonderful.

“So, in this scheme of yours,” James started, laying a few kisses on your exposed neck. “What exactly are Sirius and Remus supposed to be doing right now?”

“Sirius should be walking over in a few seconds, jealous of me for kissing you or of you for kissing me. One or the other, maybe both. And then, well I’m no mind reader,” you peeked over James’ shoulder. “He’s coming over now so I guess we’ll see.”

It only took a moment for the elder Black brother to make it over to the alcove you were partially hidden in.

“Tell me,” he spoke as he approached, shouldering in to stand next to James, eyebrow raised in question. “What have you got our sweet Jamesie in this dark corner for?”

“It’s the art of seduction, Sirius,” you smiled at him indulgently. “I wanted Jamie to kiss me just as much as I wanted you to realize that I like boys as well as girls. Got two birds with one stone.”

“And what are your intentions with him?”

“You should be asking what her intentions are with the three of us,” Remus was leaning against the wall, looking handsome as ever, and Sirius’ eyes shot over to him before landing back on you. He took a moment to process, and then he asked you, with a barely-there smile, what your intentions are with the three of them.

“I have feelings for all three of you, you three clearly have something going on with each other, and I am hoping and praying that you also have feelings for me. In which case, we have three options,” you held up three fingers and put them down as you started listing. “Option one, you don’t like me like that, you let me down softly, and we pretend this never happened. Option two, we go have really great sex because you think i’m attractive but you don’t have feelings for me. Option three, and this is my favorite one, we go on a date. All of us. And see where things go.” Your bravado was wearing thin, your heart in your hands as you waited for a response from any of them.

There was a pause.

“I don’t want to pretend this never happened,” Sirius' voice was quiet and contemplative. “I don’t want to do option two either.” He paused, and you thought you could cry (but you weren’t sure why, you just felt overwhelmed). “I like option three the best, personally, but I’m going to have to consult the board on this one,” he was starting to smile more, that charming twist of his lips that you loved to see. “Boys? What do you think about that?”

“Dating you two and this gorgeous angel? Literally my wildest dreams come true.” James was nearly vibrating with excitement and the three of you turned to Remus.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I literally helped come up with this plan,” despite his words, he softened and reached out to stroke Sirius’ back and lock eyes with him and James in turn. “There was never a doubt in my mind that I wanted to be with you, and our delightful schemer helped make it happen. And isn’t she a sight tonight?” His words had you flushed with heat, the attention of all three suddenly on you.

“Let’s dance, darling,” Sirius reached out to link your fingers together and pulled you out onto the dancefloor. You looked back only for a moment and caught a glimpse of James and Remus embracing in the alcove. “Eyes on me now, pretty girl. They already got to be on the receiving end of your seduction,” his hands were on your hips and yours were around his neck, playing with the baby hairs there. “I also find it unfair that you haven’t kissed me yet,” he was mock pouting in the most endearing way, and you couldn’t help but indulge him, so you pressed your lips to his. For once, everything was falling into place.

Masterlist

#poly!marauders x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #poly!marauders #wolfstarbucks #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #marauders era #the marauders #taylor swift #song fic #sparks fly

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wangxianficfinder · 2 months ago

Text

In the mood for...

Sep 28th

~*~

1. hello itmf request for madam lan (twin jades mom) fics where she lives and meets wwx as lwj's partner. ive read sami's fics with her alive, and i just got to read more. canon or modern era is fine. thank you for your hard work as always!

Every Mother’s Son by Chrononautical (T, 11k, WangXian, Madam Lán Lives, Madam Lán Deserves Better, Madam Lán Leaves Cloud Recesses, Madam Lan rescues women from abusive husbands in feudal Japan and honestly that’s so valid of her, mentions of rape/non-con between Madam Lan & Qingheng-Jun)

💖 Do you want to hear by allollipoppins, dameauxgentianes (T, 12k, WangXian, time travel fix-it, canon divergence, not everyone dies au, epistolary, Madam Lan lives, minor character death, dark LWJ, Lan WWX, bad parents JFM & YZY, good uncle LQR, no sunshot campaign)

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, WangXIan, Canon Divergence, Fix It, Not Jiang Family Friendly, JFM & YZY Bashing, Fix it for our main characters, Time Travel, Butterfly Effect, Madam Lan Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, Artistic License, Unreliable Narrator, JC Bashing, non-yunmeng WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Good Uncle LQR, OOC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX gets the love and care that he deserves from the very beginning, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, verbal and physical (c/o Zidian) abuse from YZY)

no step had trodden black by Stratisphyre (T, 32k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, madam lan lives, past rape, golden core reveal, hurt/Comfort, referenced to attempted suicide & suicidal thoughts, canon-typical violence)

pale shadows of forgotten names by Chrononautical (T, 56k, wangxian, Madam Lán Lives, Madam Lán Deserves Better, Good Sibling LXC, Badass LXC, He gets there in the end it just takes a while, Not particularly JGY friendly, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Canon-Typical Behavior, Unresolved Sexual Tension, the universal fear of growing up to become one of your parents, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives AU, Except WN but he’s very polite, Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Imprisonment, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, not between wangxian, Drunk LWJ, to lighten the mood, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Traumatized WWX, though he will not admit it, Taking time to heal, canon-typical communication skills)

~*~

2. ITMF: A fic where JWY is a protective sibling. A fic where you cant help but picture him as a cat that hissed to LWJ and JZX with his siblings behind him. It doesnt have to be the focus of the story. Thanks

What If..... Jiang Cheng Understood? by ToxicAngel13 (M, 66k, WIP, WangXian, Ribbons, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, WangXian Get Married in the Cold Springs Cave, Protective JC, Confused WWX, Angry LWJ, Fix-It of Sorts, Good Uncle LQR, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV LQR, YZY Bashing, POV JFM, Not JFM Friendly, Hurt/Comfort, Protective NHS)

Trust in my Word by TheObsoleteOne (E, 40k, WIP, WangXian, XiYao, ChengSang, A/B/O Dynamics, Protectiveness, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Omega WWX, Alpha LXC, Alpha LWJ, Good Sibling JC, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Soulmates, Protective LWJ, Precious WWX)

~*~

3. Hi! I’m looking for fics that diverge from canon at the Xuanwu of Slaughter cave, I would love something where they’re not so sick but they’re trapped with each other or where they get together at that point! @alienspectator

Five Things That Didn't Happen in Xuanwu Cave series by Deastar (E, 26k, WangXian, Xuanwu of Slaughter Cave, Fluff Marriage Proposa,l or perhaps more accurately discussion of marriage proposal, Rule 63, Gender Changes, Female WangXian, very soft despite the setting, Kissing, Non-Oblivious LWJ and WWX, Class Issues, Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, Huddling For Warmth, LWJ is on the Asexuality Spectrum, what if the famed horny clench was actually solely a toppy clench, Service Top LWJ, cute tentative D/s dynamics, like the baby fawn stumbling around on its wobbly little legs version of D/s dynamics, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Dirty Talk, Omega LWJ, Omega WWX)

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4. Hello, could you please recommend the fics where lan zhan has a huge inner critic and can't cope with expectations of him and the contradictions of others to the rules he was raised with.

Like people acting , dumb, rude, hypocrite and he judges

And if Wei Ying is ok with him being judgemental and helps him

Thank you!

Vandalize by The_Gourmet_Gamer (E, 66k, WangXian, Modern, Vampire, Hurt/Comfort, Forbidden Love, Religious Guilt, Homophobia, Anxiety, Eventual Happy Ending, Blood Kink, First Time, First Kiss, Smut, Consensual Non-Consent)

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5. Hi! i’m looking for fics where jiang cheng loses his golden core but wei wuxian decides to not give up his own for him.

This could be time travel fic or fic where wwx decides he has more to live for and couldn’t ruin his future. I’m not necessarily looking for jc bashing but i wouldn’t mind it either! thank you for all your help 🫶

Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WWX & WN & WQ, JC & WWX, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, Canon Divergence, Angst, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Dark, BAMF WWX, mentions of abuse, Not Everyone Dies au, XY doesn’t have a happy ending) Time traveller WQ stops the operation & talks WWX out of doing it

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons) Time traveller WWX decides to leave the cultivation world behind right after the fall of Lotus Pier, so when JC inevitably loses his core, WWX isn't around to fix it

Half of my soul by Asphodel_Meadow (T, 8k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, Fix-It, 5+1 Things, kinda soul bond but with their golden cores, POV Outsider, POV Alternating)

violent delights by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account) (T, 4k, WWX & WQ & WN, WangXian, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Transfer, No Golden Core Transfer, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Found Family, Canon JC Characteristics)

~*~

6. Greetings and thanks for all you do! I seem to have read a lot of fics lately that are not JC or JYL friendly. It's gotten me down and I'd vowed to skip those for awhile. Today I read a fic that wasn't tagged as such, so it caught me unawares. 😥 I still read it bc I found the main plot enjoyable. But now I'm definitely ready for some recent fics that are happy endings for all the Yunmeng siblings. 🙏

The most dangerous thing is to love by KatAnni (E, 113k, WangXian, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Hurt!WWX, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Torture, POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Panic Attacks, PTSD, Golden Core Transfer, Golden Core Transfer Fix-it, Medical Procedures, Fainting, Major Character Injury, Blood and Injury, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Asexual JC, homophobia doesn’t exist here, Marriage Proposal, Marriage, Wedding Night, Whump)

Tether by WithBroomBefore (T, 40k, WangXian, SangLi, WWX’s passive suicidality, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WWX Lives, JYL Lives, Golden Core Reveal, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV JYL, Grief/Mourning, Sunshot Campaign, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, LWJ makes friends, Fix-It, Happy Ending) these aren't really recent but The most dangerous thing is to love and Tether otherwise fit the request.

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7. Hihi 🫶 itmf for scary yllz Wei wuxian, just anything with wwx being insanely powerful and spooky!

No jc bashing or a/b/o please

💖 Echo, Murmur, Dream, Here by bluerainmist (M, 51k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Universe Alteration, the yiling patriarch survives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catharsis, Slow Burn, Drama, Getting Together, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Melancholy, Love, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Love Confessions, Eventual Smut, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Switching, Grief/Mourning, fucking while pining, Implied/Referenced Torture, Self-Harm, golden core transfer, Playing fast and loose with worldbuilding, Battle Scenes, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, implied / Referenced suicide attempt, Sect Leader WWX, YLLZ WWX, Yílíng Wèi Sect) link in #8

Old Foreshadows by protos_metazu_ison (M, 15k, WangXian, YLLZ WWX, BAMF WWX, War, Universe Alteration, Sunshot Campaign, Rated For Violence, Timeline What Timeline, Mojo’s post)

the field meets the wood by astronicht (T, 7k, WangXian, BAMF WWX, slight whump, Ritualistic Self Harm, Canon Era, Tang Dynasty style, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, salt economics, Post-Canon, [podfic] the field meets the wood by jellyfishfire, [Podfic] the field meets the wood by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona))

transmuter by WithLoweredVoices (Not rated, 113k, wangxian, Modern with Magic, Magical Realism, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending) if the requester doesn't mind modern magical realism: transmuter

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8. ITMF: where after wwx dies like in canon or give up yin tiger tally and vanishing with wen remnant, the jin start showing their color. I want them to remember wwx warning that said the jin wants to replace the wen. I want that when i read the fic give the feel that wwx says "i told you so" Or "you chose the wrong person to put your trust to". Thanks!

~*~

9. Helloooo~

I'm really in the mood for Wei Wuxian embracing the GusuLan sect and having his very own forehead ribbon! Do you beautiful people know of some? @lostandmessedup

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious)

We Meet at the Thousandth Step by Admiranda, Rynne (T, 316k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, CSSR & WCZ Live, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Different First Meeting, Night Hunts, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Plot, Romance, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to married, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Everyone Lives, Developing Relationship, Minor Violence, Case Fic, Mystery, Flirting, WWX’s Canon-Typical Flower Flirting, Arson, There Was Only One Bed, Getting Together, First Kiss, Meeting the Parents, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, WWX Is a Good Big Brother, New Relationship Bliss, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Blood and Injury, Yiling siblings, Married WangXian, Honeymoon, Wangxian’s Baby Fever)

🔒 The Straightest Path by meyari (T, 30k, WangXian, NieLan, MingLi, ChengSang, war and death, Grief/Mourning, Politics, plotting for neuroatypicals, Autistic LWJ, WWX Has ADHD, Non-Canon Relationship, No Yīn Iron, Sect Leader LWJ) which has Wei Ying marrying into the Lans after the burning of Cloud Recesses but I honestly don't remember if getting his own forehead ribbon is featured in this story.

~*~

10. Would love to see people's favourite fics featuring switch dynamics and/or bottomji. Bonus points for subji (does not need to coincide with bottomji). @linderel

Respectable, Decent, and Quiet by Theotrix (E, 5k, WangXian, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, repressed lwj, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Loud Sex, Emotional release)

this bed of love by YaYa (Terabyte_my_ass) (E, 4k, WangXian, Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Rimming, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Tender Sex, its so fucking tender and soft, super sensitive LWJ, Blink and you miss it humiliation kink, and a little bit of praise kink, First Time Bottoming, Bottom LWJ, POV LWJ, Coming Untouched)

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes) Been a while since I read it, but IIRC this longfic has bottom!LWJ

Requester might also be interested to know there's a Bottomji event due to start posting stuff in a few days

Howling by MimiSpearmint (E, 40k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mortal Instruments Fusion, Horror, Eldritch, Domestic Fluff, Single Parent WWX, Witchcraft, Getting Together, shifter!lwj, yllz!wwx, Intercrural Sex, Hand Jobs, Angst with a Happy Ending, Switch WangXian, a bit of a degradation kink, anti-STI sex talismans, Anal Sex, Oral Sex)

best laid plans by ilip13 (E, 20k, WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Also some angst for our suffering hero, Developing Relationship, Porn with Feelings, An Ode to Switching, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Unreliable Narrator)

pretty things by ablinka (E, 7k, WangXian, Modern, Established Relationship, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Submissive LWJ, Trans Male Character, Trans LWJ, Trans WWX, Bondage, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Vaginal Sex, Strap-Ons, tdick penetration, dysphoria plays a significant role in the fic but does not actually occur, [slaps roof of pwp] this bad boy can fit so much fucking gender in it)

all of ScarlettStorm's fic but especially 花束 | bouquet by ScarlettStorm (E, 7k, WangXian, PWP, Rope Bondage, Flower Arrangement, tender kink, A Nice Afternoon ™, Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom WWX, Sub LWJ)

~*~

11. ITMF: I read many tgcfxmdzs fic where hualian is wwx (or any character in mdzs) parents/guardian/teacher, is there a fic that are opposite of that? Like WWX is Hua Cheng teacher or something? Thanks

~*~

12. hello! for the next itmf I was wondering if you could rec fics where jc and lsz start developing an uncle-nephew relationship. no modern aus please

Would You Come Home? by s6115 (Not rated, 46k, WangXian, Junior Quartet Centric, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

~*~

13. Hi!!! This is for itmf. Is there any fic where

A) the Yiling town people protect Wei Wuxian

B) the civilians realise that cultivation world is the villain and protect Wei Wuxian and the Wen Remnant.

Thank you in advance❤️ @chibiizzy

~*~

14. hello and thank you for the work you do! i was wondering for the next itmf if you have recs of post-canon lxc and wwx developing a brotherly bond. it would be nice if lxc apologized to wwx for what he said at guanyin too

Preparing the Soil by Rynne (T, 26k, WangXian, LQR & LWJ, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Family Issues, Family Conflict, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, Chinese Holidays, Chinese New Year, Birthdays, Good Kid LSZ, Meta Arguments, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, Married WangXian, LWJ’s Birthday, LSZ’s Birthday, Soft WangXian, LWJ Has to Talk a Lot, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Gusu Lan Sect, Letting Go of Resentment, The WWX Rule, Good Sibling LXC, Improving Uncle LQR, Grappling with the Lans’ Part in the Siege, learning to be better, Music, LWJ is a Composer, LWJ Is Good at Communicating Actually, Not JC Friendly)

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (G, 7k, WangXian, Post-Canon, POV Outsider, 5+1 Things)

Of poisons and forgiveness by Anonymous (G, 1k, LXC & WWX, POV LXC, WWX deserves to be taken care of, WWX Needs a Hug, Hurt WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Poisoning, Poison, Talking, Apologies, Post-Canon, WWX is a Lan, by Marriage, LXC considers joining WWX protection squad tbh, WWX appreciation)

~*~

15. Hiii , looking for fics where wwx did s*x (sex) work(or something like that) to earn money for the burial mounds settlement, and lwj caught him / learned about it.. thx!

🔒 Tender by Deastar (E, 20k, WangXian, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Sex Work, (not between the main characters), love in the time of income inequality, Canon Divergence, Hopeful Ending, Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon)

~*~

16. Hello, itmf WY being calm, serious in his communication with LZ during cr period. Like his laughing and being brash is a disguise most of the time, but the way he approaches LZ is sincere.

Thank you 🙏

~*~

17. Thank you for all the work you do!

For an I'm In The Mood For: I'm in the mood to read:

A. Wangxian fic where the emphasis is on their relationship developing, any sex is fade-to-black or implied/way off "screen" and/or

B. Fic featuring asexual Wei Ying or Lan Zhan or both.

I'm just super tired of fics that are 90% PWP. (Can't believe it, but I am, lol).

17A)

through a window softly by impossibletruths (T, 14k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Neighbors, Music, They Play Music Together But They’ve Never Met, It’s very romantic, Graduate School, WWX Is Doing Music Education and LWJ Is Doing Composition, Music As Love Language, Just A Whole Lot Of Classical Music In General, Podfic Available, Spanish Translation Available, Russian Translation Available)

fish & wild geese by impossibletruths (T, 21k, WangXian, Modern AU, Farm/Ranch, Poetry, Grief/Mourning, Cooking, Catharsis, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Hunger as a Metaphor for Grief, Farming as a Metaphor for Healing, Overzealous Use Of Imagery, Mentioned Madam Lán)

🔒 The Promises We Make by Mayarenerose (G, 34k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, LXC & LWJ, LWJ & WN, LWJ & JC, Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst, Everybody Lives, Canon Divergence, Gratuitous Bed Sharing)

And Yet Here You Are by cosmicmilktea (T, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, Cloud Recesses, settling down, Separation Anxiety, Teacher WWX, very light angst, Chief Cultivator LWJ)

17B)

Picture Perfect by manaika (M, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, Past Relationship(s), Widower WWX, Grief/Mourning, Getting Together, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Stepfather WWX, LSZ is a Wèi, Single Parent WWX, Aromantic Relationship, Platonic Life Partners, it’s all in the past and only mentioned/discussed when relevant, Sex-Favorable Asexual WWX, RomanceHurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, Food Intake Related Medical Issue (not what you think) )

🔒 The Bunnysitter: a Post-it Romance by theLoyalRoyalGuard (G, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, really it’s just soft and fluffy, with a tiny bit of angst for seasoning, Asexual LWJ, autistic LWJ, adhd WWX, I mean he’s basically the ADHD poster child, cellist LWJ, Hacker WWX for justice, background 3zun, [Podfic] The Bunnysitter: a Post-it Romance by Cathalinareads (Cathalinaheart) )

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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clearheartsgreyflowerss · 3 months ago

Note

Can I request Platonic HuoHuo x Big sister figure!Reader. Reader works in the ten-lords commissions specifically in fyxestroll garden where She handles paranormal stuff and HuoHuo was a trainee judge so reader had the sense to protect her because she’s weak and helpless cuz she feels bad. Eventually huohuo looks up to them like an Older sister. Bonus: Tail poking fun at reader and essential annoys her everday

(PS: I want to protect HuoHuo at all cost. She’s so precious to me ><)

Sjfjsldjhjdixnjeidj I love HuoHuo so much she's my favorite little silly person :3

Protect her at all costs! - Platonic HuoHuo x Big sister!Reader

Being assigned a trainee judge was not something you were expecting, and definitely something you didn't want. Work was already hard enough as is, and you didn't need some young person getting in your way.

Madam Hanya told you that this judge was "different" than most others, and that she was quite young. You smiled and nodded at her as she spoke, though deep down, the thought of being stuck with someone sounded awful. When you finally met the girl, she definitely was not what you were expecting. You were expecting the small and timid sure, but that didn't cover it. She just seemed absolutely terrified of everything around her. She was especially afraid of that "tail" thing Madam Hanya explained to you, seriously that heliobus was a menace.

At first HuoHuo just tailed around you, helping with exorcisms and defeating the occasional heliobus. She was loud and whiny at times, but generally she was quiet and seemed to listen to you. The silence was nice when she started hanging out with you, though it slowly became unbearable. She seemed like she always wanted to say something, but never had the courage to say it.

So, you started asking her things like: "how did you sleep last night?" Or "what's your favorite food?". Usually she answered your questions with no problems, and would ask you some in return. She was actually a pretty nice girl, but there was one problem; that stupid tail thing that was stuck with her. It was constantly making fun of her, which was honestly starting to get annoying. You tried to tell him off at one point, but he just started throwing insults at you too. (And now he never stops...)

After a while, HuoHuo no longer tailed you around, instead working on her own things around fyxestroll garden. At first you told yourself that you were happy she was gone, you didn't have to entertain her and that stupid tail anymore. Yet, you would often turn around to ask her another question, only to realize she wasn't there.

It seemed like she felt the same way just weeks later, because she came to you, balling her eyes out.

"[Nameeeee]! Help me! There's a scary heliobus following me and I can't defeat it!" You jumped at the sound of her, and you didn't expect for her to come running right up to you, and wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug.

"HuoHuo- what are you doing here? Is tail not gonna help you- actually forget that, you don't need that stupid thing to help you." Surprisingly, he didn't spring out and hurl insults back at you, which was a nice surprise for once. You sighed and smiled down at her, as you slowly combed your fingers through her hair.

"if you lead me to the heliobus, I'll help you exorcise it. Just this once though, you need to learn to do it on your own. You can't always be with me, alright?" She looked up at you with tear filled eyes, and gave you a small nod.

"I promise I'll become stronger for you [name]. For you and Mr.Tail!"

Turns out the heliobus actually was a pretty insignificant one, and you gave her a small lecture about not letting the heliobus get into her head. That seemed to put her in the right mindset, because she never seemed as terrified as she did from that day on. (She was still pretty scared though- she can't just magically eradicate her fears.)

She also seemed more open around you. You taught her a lot of things, from how to exorcise more efficiently, to how to sew her own clothes back up when they got ripped. Despite your initial desire for her to go away, she was basically attached to your hip at this point, and you did enjoy her company. The only downside to her constantly being with you was that stupid tail that she had to keep around.

HuoHuo tries to keep it tame between the two of you, but tail is constantly provoking you or making fun of someone, which you cannot stand to listen to.

"HuoHuo, have you eaten breakfast yet today? If not, we can head to Aurum Alley and grab something." You had gotten the early patrol shift this morning, so you didn't have time to eat before the shift.

"Yes Miss [Name], I remembered your reminder from last night. I ate a great breakfast this morning!" She smiled up at you and you gave her a big smile right back- though you quickly lost that smile as tails stupid face showed up.

"Even the girl is more organized than you [Name]"

"Mr.Tail... that wasn't very nice-" HuoHuo knew what he was trying to do, and she didn't want another argument to start.

"so what? You know what, at least I get to choose whether or not I'm gonna eat before my shift. You on the other hand, have to do everything HuoHuo does."

"Miss [Name], please don't start another argument with-"

"I can do whatever I want!" Tail yelled over poor HuoHuo, you felt bad when the two of you talked over her, but sometimes it was necessary to shut Tail up.

"oh really? How come you haven't eaten me yet then? You've been threatening it for quite some time."

"Miss [Name], tail won't eat you, he's a vegetarian."

Both of you stopped arguing to look over at her, and you burst out laughing. Though, you quickly tried to contain it once you saw the embarrassed look on HuoHuo's face.

"I'm aware HuoHuo, I was just fighting with him because I needed someone to yell at. If you've already eaten, then do you wanna hang out with me while I go get food?" HuoHuo's face brightened up once you changed the topic, and she nodded.

"I would love to go with you Miss [Name]!" Despite her timid tone, you could tell she was happy to go with you. You ruffled her hair a little and smiled

"Well, let's head out then!"

Uhhh sorry I took a small break guys 😔

My last week has been really eventful and honestly I haven't had time to write (FURINA AND ROBIN REQUESTS ARE COMING YOUR WAY SOON). But I'm realizing now that I should've just kept writing bc it literally helps me wind down, I'm just about to go to bed and I think finishing this was the best thing I could've done.

I hope y'all enjoyed this one tho!! I honestly don't write sibling dynamics often but this was a good change of pace.

If you like my work consider rebloging and liking! It really helps more people see my work :)

Daily click to help those in Palestine

#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x platonic!reader #huohuo #huohuo x platonic!reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x reader #platonic honkai star rail

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n3ptoonz · 1 year ago

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'Closer'

Pairing: Smoke/F!Reader

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: SMUT! Explicit!! Msub to Mdom, fluff elements, we use Tomas around these parts (literally and figuratively), implied breeding knk, dirty talk near the end, Tomas is a lover boy with a filthy mind, riding

Word count: 1.8k+

When he met you, his whole world was flipped upside down in the best way possible. You were strong, physically and emotionally, and tolerated no bullshit. All with grace and beauty. You were almost the opposite of him in personality, which drew him in even further since the day he met you at Madam Bo's. You were one of the customers that stayed behind to help out when the test was going, having you think the Lin Kuei was really trying to take over the restaurant.

You were and still are a fierce fighter. You really almost beat him if he didn't go invisible to take you down. So now, he was absolutely infatuated with everything about you. The day he came back to you, letting you know about the break in Kuai Liang and Bi Han's relationship and Kuai's new clan; how quick you were in agreeing to follow him wherever he goes was just the icing on the cake.

Tomas opened the door for you, a bright smile shining on his face. He finally married the woman of his dreams after so long of you proving you were fit to marry into the clan, which he held dear to his heart.

You kissed his cheek as a thank you, walking further into your suite. You both made your way to the back door, taking in some of the view --that wasn't covered by the fence--of Outworld's biggest city: Edenia.

"Beautiful..." Tomas murmured, "The view too." he chuckled, nudging you playfully.

You playfully rolled her eyes, nudging him back from his cute little joke. You wrapped your hands around his arm, laying your head on his broad shoulder as you two stared at the blue sky that was soon to change colors, sighing in content.

"If this is a dream, don't wake me up." you mumbled, quietly but just loud enough for him to hear what you said. You looked up at him, tracing the muscle lines on his thick biceps. It was one of your favorite physical features about him, his beautifully sculpted arms from the years and years of training in the Lin Kuei.

Tomas felt warmth spreading through his chest as you cuddled against him, and from the sound of your voice filled with pure contentment.

Leaning in, Tomas captured your lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The delicate taste of your lips alone was intoxicating, causing a surge of desire to wash over him. The moment felt surreal and yet undeniably real, like a long-awaited fulfillment of your love.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his breaths coming out in soft, ragged puffs. "My beautiful wife," he murmured your name, his voice filled with devotion. "I am so lucky to finally be able to say you are mine, and I am yours. This honeymoon will be unforgettable, just you wait." he whispered, nuzzling his nose with yours with the giddiness that a newlywed would be expected to have.

You gently ran your fingers through his short silver locks, smiling at his love professions. Your gaze shifting oh so slightly, but he could easily tell what it meant after being with you for so long.

"Why don't show me in the hot springs?" you whispered, slowly pulling away from him and letting your eyes linger on him. You got undressed, wrapped yourself in a towel off the shelf, and headed towards the back door with a sway in your hips, looking back at a blushing Tomas.

"Well?"

Tomas couldn't help but stammer over his words as he stared at you. You've only ever engaged in intimate moments with each other a few times in the 5 years you've been together pre-marriage, but never got to the sexual part. This good old fashioned lover boy was raised on the idea that partners are to be cherished, and there were far more ways to show your love for someone without it always resulting in sexual activity.

However, today, that was about to change.

You both settled into the hot springs after washing up, sighing in relaxation. He stole a glimpse of you looking up at the sky changing from blue to yellow as the sun was setting along the horizon. One small part of him was nervous. Not because he was sitting across from you and your naked figure that was obscured by the water, but because this was your first time together. He hadn't much time to think about this sort of thing due to his new role in the Shirai Ryu and actively protecting Earthrealm. So this moment was very important and special to him.

"The sun's about to set." you said, looking over at him who was nearly frozen in place--his gaze already meeting yours.

"Outworld's skies are always so beautiful at night." you continued, tilting your head to the side and trying to get a read on him.

"I can think of something prettier..." he murmured. The calm waves rippling over his biceps and collarbones made your mouth water. He always found a way to round a statement back to how beautiful he found you, and he meant it every time seldom shame.

"Yeah? What's that?" you asked, slowly standing up out of the water. As soon as it dropped back down, the remaining drops just continued to fall down every inch of your body. The closer you stepped towards him, the more he could see the sun rays bounce off the water reflection sticking to your skin.

Tomas's next words were caught in his throat. The mere sight of the water dripping from your breasts, to your hips, to your thighs--and how some of the drops fell in between them. You re-settled into his lap and let his hands instinctively grab your hips.

Was this all a dream? A simulation? How did he get such a good-looking individual that could fight her heart out against strangers that were twice her size? Ugh, he felt so lucky and so selfish at the same time. He had you all to himself, and all his dreams were to be fulfilled.

"I...You-"

You slowly sank down into his lap, drinking in his moans with a kiss. His body tensed underneath you as you took all of him. You briefly broke the kiss for a second to gasp at how much he filled you up.

"Tomas..." you breathed out, sitting still for a moment while you adjusted and gripping his shoulders.

He shuddered at the sound of his name escaping from your lips, letting his soft hands feel you up as much as he pleased.

"Take it, baby...it's all yours..." he whispered against your lips and smiled, pecking the corner of your mouth. "Take your time, we've got all night long."

This was your first time together and in general. All those times of sneaking off just for a few kisses and hugs were absolutely nothing in comparison to this.

Every movement of your hips felt like pure bliss for both ends. It's like your body was made for him and vice versa. The water making the flow smoother added a perfect touch too.

You could feel Tomas gripping your sides, panting like he just ran a mile.

"Shit-" he said, pulling you closer and letting himself loose. You softly gasped at the feeling of warm liquid pumping inside you, and it definitely wasn't the water from the hot springs.

His breaths were shaky and his body trembled beneath you. His face was bright pink from embarrassment since he didn't expect to cum so quickly.

You cupped his cheeks in yours hands and just looked at him with adoration.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, I'm actually flattered," you said, whispering the last part, "But we aren't done just yet."

The loud sounds of skin smacking together mixed with heavy breaths and moans filled the room like there was no tomorrow. You two managed to make your way back to the hotel room and get to work, but Tomas's attitude did a complete flip.

Underneath that lover boy, sweetheart exterior, tonight his main goal was to spread you wide and take you like you were his. because you are his, and he's yours, forever. Tomas was always the kind of man who made sure you were top priority. Nothing was changing tonight. In fact, it's being put into more practice tonight.

He had you on your side and holding your thigh in one hand while his free arm was wrapped comfortably around your neck. He couldn't help but feel obligated to give you the best time of your life after cumming so prematurely, and he knew that his bicep being so close to your face would send you into overdrive.

You were speechless. The words he uttered into your ear while he fucked into you had you stuttering and gasping. You grabbed and clawed at his arm, tears forming in the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure you received, pleading he doesn't stop.

As you neared your climax, he was getting closer too, as it was all going to his head in the hottest way possible. You had never seen such a side of him even though you knew he had it in him whenever you saw him fight. But this? Oh, this was different. This was sexually frustrated, passionate Tomas, who wanted to give you everything he had.

"I'm gonna cum inside you one more time, and you'll be having twins." he said, his voice getting raspier as he gripped your thigh a little tighter. You whined and clenched around him, still unable to form words and nearly drooling from the side of your mouth.

You came first, trembling under his touch and slightly bucking once his final thrust hit your sweet spot. You were simply a mess by the time he was finished with you, and you couldn't be happier.

He, in fact, came inside you one more time. That twins line surely did a number on you. You wondered just where the hell he had been hiding this side for as long as you knew him.

You both cleaned up and finally rested, tangled in each other's arms and lovingly looking into each other's eyes.

"Where'd you learn to talk like that?" you asked in half jest, playing with his hair.

"Honestly? I was surprised myself...But I was dedicated to taking care of you on this special night. And I hope I didn't freak you out with that whole twins thing..."

You raised your eyebrow, shaking your head to reassure him. "Please, I'd have your triplets."

"Deal." he responded rather quickly, earning a playful roll of the eyes and shared laugh between you two.

----

a/n: hii if you made it to the end, just know since bi han won in the poll i posted a few days ago he will be next so stay tuned! <3 also my asks are now open i finally figured it out

#n3ptoonz #mk1 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #smut #mk smut #fluff #smoke mk #mk smoke #tomas mk1 #tomas vrbada #tomas x reader

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illumiera · 20 days ago

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WIP Wednesday

thank you so much for the tag, @theoneandonlysemla! 💖 I thought I'd join in on the WIP Wednesday train and share an excerpt from the in-progress ninth chapter of i fear no fate (for you are my fate), especially since said chapter made it to 1, 000 words yesterday! so, here's Miraak admiring his new manicure courtesy of Elentari:

Miraak blinks. He blinks once, twice, thrice. Then, so slowly he could still be wrapped up in the web of a dream, he turns his trembling hand over and over and over again, palm-back-palm-back in a blur of ink-stained fingertips and scarred, sun-starved skin. This time, his gaze is fixed, hunting for the tell-tale flicker of something that would break the spell and betray the illusion, because the part of him that has not yet escaped Apocrypha is certain that this must be one final trick of the mind from the Prince who’d sought to claim him forevermore. After all, he remembers it all too well, the way he’d once stood by and watched as those already half-maddened from decades lost pacing the same paths through Mora’s realm had exclaimed aloud and gripped a tome like a treasure, and the way their shouts of victory had sharpened to screams as the knowledge for which they’d damned themselves twisted before their scouring eyes. The way it must have felt almost like a relief after that, to give in to the inevitable. And still the sight before him refuses to alter. Still he remembers the warmth—the light—that had flooded him the moment his same-soul had granted him the sound of his truest name ringing from her lips like a golden bell hung in the very heart of her. His claws are gone. His claws are gone, and the woman whose healer’s touch had purged them from him— Elentari is still elsewhere, neither here with him nor lingering behind in their shared dream of his homeland. Her eyes are wide and unseeing, staring straight past him as though he truly has become the ghost the seer had foretold, and try as he might, he does not recognise the strange light within them. Her eyes are full of sunshine, he has always thought, sunshine on pine needles, on young spring leaves, on all the green growing things of the world—but they’re nothing like that now, not while they’re aglow with a sheen of unearthly silver like moonrays spilling into a forest pool.

and as a bonus, a very messy rough sketch WIP of my two silly dragons, because we all need to draw our OTP as a classic painting at least once:

now, I tag @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @kiir-do-faal-rahhe @bostoniangirl21 @madam-whim @pinessydr @lilarus and you, reader, if there's something you'd like to share, too! ✨

#miraak #miraak x ldb #tesblr #the elder scrolls #skyrim #wip wednesday #oc: elentari #i fear no fate (for you are my fate)#my formatting goofed so apologies if you were tagged twice!!#as for the chapter excerpt: I Wonder Where Elentari Is. I Wonder What She's Doing. I Wonder What Implications That Will Have. >:)

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magicbystarlight · 3 months ago

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Venomous - Part Fourteen

Masterlist, Part One

Summary: A wife. A mother. A witch with someone else's name. That’s the life you didn’t want. So Tom offered you more.

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: 18+, injuries, blood, PTSD, victim blaming, shitty men. Minors DNI.

The Hospital Wing was too loud. You sat up and the stiff movement had you groaning. The curtain shifted. Annette Figgleworm smiled at you. She was an Auror, relatively new considering she’d finished school only the year before. A good friend of Robert Bones. Theseus must have thought a familiar face would be better for you to wake up to.

“Didn’t think you’d be up for a few more hours,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

Grimacing, you shifted your legs over the edge of the bed. Maybe they’d let you return to your dorm. “Like shit.”

“Sounds about right. Want me to grab Urquart?”

You shook your head. “How’s Dumbledore?”

She hesitated. “Better,” she finally said, taking a seat in the chair by your bed. “Woke up for a bit before they moved him to St. Mungo’s.”

“They moved him?”

“Got a tad crowded.” She gestured to the curtain. “Half the school suddenly fell ill when word got out you were in here. Worse than exam week.”

Gawkers waiting to see the caged animal. It had you abandoning the idea of leaving. They wouldn’t get another show from you. Not today You laid down again, hating the burn of action. “Surprised they’re not charging admission.”

She laughed. “I’m sure someone’s conning the First Years into it.”

Madam Urquart came through the curtain. “You should still be asleep.” Exasperated, she opened the cabinet by your bed and pulled out a potion. She shoved it into your hands, told you to drink, and left.

“Her bedside manner’s still as charming as ever, eh?”

“A real doll.”

Annette uncorked the bottle, the task too difficult for you. “Sleep well,” she said as you drifted off again.

—

A sightless dream permeated the blackness.

A gentle caress of your hair. A soft kiss on your forehead. A lullaby you hadn’t heard in so long it might only have ever been a figment of your imagination.

The north wind doth blow

And here comes the snow

And what will the eagle do then?

Poor thing

She’ll sit in the rafters

And keep herself warm

And hide her head beneath her wing

Poor thing

The lullaby faded. Footsteps and rustling fabric. “I’m sorry to intrude.” You tried to move, but not even your lashes offered a flutter. “I wanted to ensure this was returned.”

A heavy sigh. “I’ll be sure she gets it. Thank you.” Something clinked. A silent moment. “They say she looks worse than she is. That she only needs a few days to recover.”

“I’m sure whoever did this to her is worse off.”

Your finger flexed infinitesimally.

Another soft touch brushed across your forehead. “It seems she held her own, but it’s a miracle she managed to survive. She was very lucky.”

Something creaked.

“However she survived it had nothing to do with luck or miracles.” More rustling fabric, fading footsteps. The lullaby resumed.

The north wind doth blow

And here comes the snow

And what will the snake do then?

Poor thing

He’ll coil up tightly

And keep himself warm

Until the first budding of spring

Poor thing

—

Theseus’s promise had fallen short. Keeping your family at bay was easy, but the rest of the Ministry was a different beast. You were given enough time between waking and your first interrogation to eat and bathe, but only just.

A meal of toast, beans, and a fried egg devoured before you were helped to the small washroom. As much as you craved a bath, a shower was all it offered. You worked to clean the grime and flecks of blood under the pelting water. You faced your reflection after. Thin, jagged lines littered your face. Half-healed scars of what had been open wounds the day before. A bruise on its final, ugly stage splayed across your neck and shoulder that matched the ones scattered across the rest of your body. Skin across your arm that had been singed now new and raw. The shadow of days worth of sleep deprivation lingered under your eyes. Frizz and knots had taken hold of your hair. Unseen was the ache that slowed your movements.

The gown you were given barely felt different than being bare. The material too thin, the length too short, the neckline too wide.

Several Ministry officials were waiting around your cleaned bed when you limped out. Neither Theseus nor Annette were there. Anger welled in your eyes at the witnesses, most you’d known since you were a toddler, to your humiliation. What would have been the difference if they’d waited outside? Edmund Bones, an aide to the Minister, asked if you needed Urquart for the pain.

“No,” you had hissed as you slid into the bed. “Just get this over with.”

Their questions went on for hours. Every part of your story nitpicked and debated. Did you actually need a new wand? Were you really in London? How many people had actually been there? How did Dumbledore get Splinched on such a short distance? Why didn’t you Apparate? How did an eagle find you but not dozens of trained trackers? Why surrender at all when you’d seemingly escaped? Their condescension irritated the scrapes they’d already left on your ego.

Neither you nor them were satisfied by time lunch rolled around, but Urquart had demanded a break. Cottage pie had never tasted so good. It wasn’t nearly as good when it came back up. “You’ve got to take it slow,” the Healer cautioned after she’d cleaned the mess. You asked if you’d get another potion soon. She shook her head. “Your body needs time to recover from the last round or it'll be overwhelmed. Best to wait a couple days.” She helped adjust the pillows behind you until you were as comfortable as you could be. She left only when they returned, warning she’d be in her office if you needed anything.

It had you half grateful, half mortified. How bad off were you that Urquart had taken pity on you?

The questions repeated until candles replaced the light of the sun. Then they ventured before the day of the attack. The strain you’d been under in the weeks since such a disturbing display of violence from your brother. The stress of planning a wedding while still in school. How difficult it must be in a very publicized relationship.

“I can handle it just fine. And I don’t see how any of that has to do with what happened to me."

It was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Filmore Flint, who responded. “The timing of your attack was…highly convenient. You needing a new wand and convincing Dumbledore to take a stroll through Muggle London at the exact same moment these supposed followers of Grindelwald were there? Almost improbable.”

“Almost,” you agreed spittingly, “and yet it happened. You have a dozen Aurors who can attest to that.”

“What I have is a dozen Aurors who can say they saw you surrounded by a group of witches and wizards in a random forest after suddenly being able to find you despite failing for days. Which again is very convenient timing.”

“What are you implying, Flint? That I made it all up? Set it up?”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m saying it was very convenient how everything came together.”

A near hysteric laugh broke from your throat. “Convenient? What was convenient? Seeing a man lose half his head. Nearly watching Dumbledore die? Being freezing and hungry and terrified? I thought I was never going to see my friends again. Or my brother. And in the end I was going to trade my freedom for my country’s because I thought that was the right thing to do. Was that convenient? Now every part of me aches and all I want is to be back in my dorm, in my bed, in my clothes with my friends who saved my life. But I can’t because I am here talking to a bunch of beauracrates who’d rather point fingers at a teenager than face the truth. None of it is fucking convenient for me. But I suppose it is for you. Makes your job easier when you don't actually have to do it, huh?”

There were a few very half-assed assurances that of course it wasn’t convenient and that the questions were only raised out of procedure, but no apology came from Flint himself. They left you half an hour later more exhausted and exasperated than you'd been the day before.

Theseus and Annette returned to your sour mood. Neither surprised they’d been cruel in their questioning. “Your disappearance caused quite the stir,” Theseus said. “Your friends weren’t as quiet as the Ministry would’ve liked and the Daily Prophet couldn’t resist.” He pulled several folded papers from his briefcase, offering them to you.

DUMBLEDORE REPORTED MISSING ALONGSIDE WELL-KNOWN STUDENT

SEARCH UNDERWAY FOR MISSING HOGWARTS STUDENT AND PROFESSOR: FRIENDS' CLAIM GRINDELWALD IS TO BLAME

DUMBLEDORE AND SELWYN FOUND BATTERED & BRUISED BUT BREATHING

GRINDELWALD IN LONDON? WHAT WE KNOW SO FAR

The one that connected your disappearance to Grindelwald would have come out the morning before they attacked in the woods. Was it how they knew he was still injured? Confirmed that you were still there waiting for rescue? Had it prompted them to act sooner? “Well at least something good came out of this,” you murmured, flipping through the pages of the latest issue. Articles that focused on the Muggle war and ones about Grindelwald’s known associates—including Vinda Rosier. The picture was old, but you’d recognize her face anywhere.

“We’ve been trying for months to get them to print anything related to Grindelwald and they refused. But the moment the future Mrs. Malfoy went missing,” Annette tisked with frustrated amusement, “suddenly they can write about him.”

You flipped another page to more pictures. “Don’t call me that.” You thought you might have recognized a couple.

Theseus cut in. “You’re right. This,” he nodded to the paper, “is good. We warned the Ministry this could happen. People should have been prepared for this. If it had been anyone else this had happened to, I can’t imagine I’d be having a conversation with them.”

“Well no one else has Abby and Issa,” you agreed, setting the paper aside. You’d been sitting in the same position too long and it was beginning to grow sore. You tried to move some of the pillows yourself, but your face gave away the stinging discomfort. Annette helped you lay on your side. “Speaking of, do you think I could see them before dinner?”

—

It only took ten minutes between your request and their appearance in the Hospital Wing. Annette shushed Theseus when he tried to protest you getting out of bed. You limped down the empty room, intending to meet them in the middle but instead you only made it a few feet before they’re wrapping their arms tightly around you.

“Thank you.” You heard their sniffles and held them tighter. “Thank you.”

—

“Ten more minutes?” Larissa pleaded.

Urquart, her usual brusqueness returned, sighed. “Five.” And she was gone.

You were seated crossed legged on the bed with Larissa behind you working on the final braid in your hair. Abigail was curled in the chair. They’d stayed for hours, well past dinner and curfew. Listening. Admiring your wand. Telling you the chaos after your letter. Now they shared their own encounter with Flint and his unabashed desire to keep Grindelwald’s name out of it all. “Only managed to get in the paper cause Azar knew that reporter,” Larissa said.

Abigail let her chin rest on top of her knee. “And bribed the editor to run the story. Plus helping us sneak out of the castle to do the interview.”

“Wait, what?” Abigail shushed you, but you continued in a whisper. “Bribes and sneaking out? What the fuck?”

“Flint told us we needed to keep it quiet,” she said softly. “That your claim about Grindelwald was unsubstantiated and there was no reason to cause a panic.”

“So of course we told everybody.” Larissa leaned over to grab the nightcap at the very edge of the bedside table, nearly knocking over the hair potion she’d brought along. “Ralph had the idea to take it a step further with the paper by sending a letter, but all we got was the story about your disappearance in there. He was so upset. Next thing we know, he’s gone to Azar and they’ve got a plan to get us face to face with a reporter.”

The information had your mind reeling. Ralph? Azar? Together?

Abigail peeked over her shoulder before speaking. “They wouldn’t tell us everything, only that your uncle knew the reporter and a little bribe got the editor to ensure he’d run the story front page. The two of them snuck us out through this passage in the middle of the night that took us to Hogsmeade and got us into this back room at the Hog’s Head. It was,” she shook her head, “so weird.”

“Kind of felt like being in a spy novel.” Larissa’s arms slid around your waist and her head rested on your shoulder. “I think I’ll stick to romances.”

You tried to smile as you gripped her arm, but it didn't stick. “I’m not sure that’s much of an option anymore.”

“He’s really coming?” There was a tremble in Abigail’s voice.

“Yeah,” you nod, “he’s coming.”

—

Sleep did not come easily without a Draught. Every thought too distracting. You laid in the dark, tossing and turning unable to find comfort. The image of a half gone head spilling into the snow filled the void when you closed your eyes.

When sleep did come, it was restless. Disjointed. Your name repeated with promises of freedom and power. Chess pieces, black and life-sized, with swords raised. Bloodied, fragmented mirrors reflecting brown eyes then blue. A twisted hand grasping at your throat. Alone. Back at the pond. He’s coming. Run. Trees passed in a blur. But you’re back at the pond. He’s coming. Run. Crimson snow crunched under your feet. But you’re back at the pond. He’s coming. Run. The rabbit, white fur rotted, bounded beside you. But you’re back at the pond. He’s coming. Run. You stared at your reflection in the water. Tom stared back over your shoulder. “Run.”

—

“You look awful,” Hestia Malfoy said, nose wrinkled as she and her husband stood over you. When you’d said family could come, you hadn’t realized how loose the term would be interpreted.

“Mother, please.” Abraxas took the place at your side, grasping your hand as if you’d float away. “You look beautiful.”

“You do look awful,” your mother said, less disdainfully than you expected. Too softly. Too motherly. “They should have taken you to St. Mungo’s. The Healers there know what they’re doing.”

“We should have you come to the Manor. Have our own Healer take care of you.”

You recalled their choice in Healer. “I’ll be back to normal in a few days.”

Abraxas rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand. “None of this should have happened. I could have bought you a new wand.”

“And going into the Muggle side? You were asking for trouble.” Sixtus gave a disgusted snort.

His wife agreed. “You’re lucky it was wizards who attacked you and not those sort. Have you heard the vile things they do to each other?”

“No, but I’ve heard the things Grindelwald has done to them.”

Hestia’s mouth stretched into a thin line. “It’s more humane than the way they have been killing each other.”

“And what of the things he’s done to wizards? What his followers did to me?”

Sixtus laughed. “You’re the one who shot the first spell.”

Iron coated your tongue as your mother veered the conversation back to your appearance.

—

Sounds of wandering students wafted through the cracked door. The remains of lunch sat on the nightstand growing cold. The papers Theseus had left were scattered across the bed, the morning’s in your hands. Crime of Passion? Minster Claims Recent Attack Was Personal. It was ridiculous. All your words had been twisted. Yes, it was personal, but it wasn’t some petty vindictive crime. It was an act of war. It had been written by a different reporter than the others. A Claudius Rookwood. If you remembered correctly, his mother had been a Flint.

You tossed it aside, leaned back, and tried to rub out the pounding in your head. It wasn’t fair. All that to not even have the truth out there? If only that reporter your friends had spoken to had come along. But if it had taken some elaborate plan to sneak out of the castle to speak to them, you can imagine they weren’t welcome in the castle for one reason or another.

You sat up.

You could sneak out. Not alone, not when it was a struggle to walk. But if Azar could get four people out without being caught, he could get you out.

—

Dinner came and went. There was no response to the note you’d sent. You felt stupid for ever thinking he’d help.

—

More hours of disjointed sleep. Dreams weaved between blinks. Snow. Curtains. Rabbits. Curtains. Blood. Curtains. Rings. Curtains. Water. Eyes. Eyes?

You blinked again. Eyes. Not quite blue, not quite green, but somewhere in between. Golden hairs specked through his brown eyebrows. Despite the dreary winter months, his skin still looked kissed by the sun.

Kneeled beside the bed, his expression was much the same as it had been that day you’d woken to it in the alley. Softer, less intense, but you recognized it now as his eyes flicked from scar to scar. Concern.

“Ralph?”

A half smile curled the side of his face at your groggy recognition. “Sorry to wake you, but we’ve got to get going.”

“Going?”

It was Azar who responded, his face hovering behind McLaggen’s. “To see a reporter about an interview.” His forehead creased. “If you’re still up to it.”

You sat up quickly. Too quickly. You ignored the wobble in your vision and threw off the blanket. McLaggen averted his gaze from your mostly bare legs, standing and shrugging off his robe. He handed it over. “It’s gonna be cold.”

It wasn’t cold. Days in the snow let the chill seep into your bones unnoticed. Yet you clutched the robe tighter as you followed McLaggen behind the mirror on the fourth floor into the dark, frigid passage. Somehow this was the place you’d come closest to dying.

The tip of McLaggen’s wand illuminated the space. A crack ran along one of the walls. It was a mostly silent walk through the tunnel. It curved every so often, widened to a space large enough to fit half the Great Hall, and narrowed again, and finally came to end at a stone wall. Azar stepped forward and pressed his wand into a small hole you could barely see and turned it once, then twice, and continued until it had been done seven times. Like the wall that separated Diagon Alley and The Leaky Cauldron, the ceiling began to part. Azar stepped back several paces and the wall began to pull out into stairs.

It was magical.

“What sorts of enchantments do you think they used to make this?”

Azar shushed you, keeping his eyes on the opening above. When satisfied with the quiet he motioned for you and McLaggen to follow. It took a moment to recognize the village, your attention only pulled from the entrance once it closed. It was odd at night. Still and silent.

The Hog’s Head was close. Azar led you to the back, up a set of rickety steps along the outside, and knocked thrice. It opened a moment later to a young woman you didn’t recognize. Her black brows raised,she shook her head, and stood aside. “You’re late.”

Fabula Auctor. Either a fictitious name or her parents paid a Name Seer who actually had the Sight. The former was more likely.

Her questioning was nothing like the others you’d endured. She was emphatic, but never complimentary. She asked for clarification, not to dismiss. And it didn’t end with the arrival of the Aurors. The days after. The relief, the pain, the joy, the anger, the comfort, the fear.

“What’s been the hardest part of being back?”

“Sleep.”

“Why is that?”

You hesitated, crossing your arms in front of you, one hand rubbing at your neck. She prompted again, patient but insistent. But nothing came out of your mouth. The nightmares were not something you wanted to share.

“Move on,” Azar said.

And she did. She scribbled a bit more and finally set her quill aside. “That’s all the questions I have. Last thing I need is a picture.”

“Is that the best idea?” McLaggen asked. “They’ll know she isn’t in the Hospital Wing.”

Fabula smiled. “They won’t have a clue.”

The walk back was like wading through water. Twice you stumbled over the too long robe still draped around your shoulders. The first time you’d caught yourself. The second McLaggen had caught and steadied you. You took his offered arm, leaning heavily against him.

“Thank you,” you said. You should have said more. Told him how grateful you were for everything he’d done. The kindness in the alley, the effort to ensure your story was told—both now and before. Apologize your mother’s letter. Ask him about the child he’d have soon. You said nothing else.

The back of the mirror appeared several minutes later. Azar checked his watch. “You should head up to your dorm. Rounds start in half an hour,” he told McLaggen. “I’ve got her,” he added, holding up his own arm for you to take.

The stairs were the worst, moving as you were midstep. But you made it down and back into the Hospital Wing unnoticed. Azar helped ease you back into the bed, McLaggen’s robe slung over his arm after a promise to return it. When he’d pulled the blanket back over you and said a good night, you reached for his hand.

“Thank you for Drein. And for coming tonight.”

He squeezed your hand. “Least I could do.” He tried to release your hand.

But you held firm. You had not forgotten. “Why did you write the note?”

His shoulders sagged. His voice low, lower than it had been before in the quiet. “He said he wanted to apologize. We were supposed to meet at the library. All three of us so we could talk in a place you’d feel safe. I didn’t want you two alone again.” He scoffed at himself. If you had the energy, you would have too. “When neither of you showed up I spent hours trying to find you. But you were nowhere and neither was he. Not even at dinner. And when he finally showed in the middle of the night, he was different.” He paused, searching for a better word. “Somber. Never seen him like that. Like he was in mourning. When you weren’t anywhere Sunday and the paper said you and Dumbledore were missing, I thought he had…” He swallowed and didn’t finish. “It wasn’t until McLaggen went asking for help I knew you were alive.”

“You thought he had killed me,” you whispered, “and you said nothing.”

His head bobbed. “And I said nothing.”

“Is that why you did all this? Guilt?”

“Tom asked me too," he breathed.

Exhaustion smothered whatever reaction you'd have had. Your hand thumped against the bed. You closed your eyes and let the nothingness sleep offered consume you.

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @squishytomatoes @benonlinear @byelannie

Venomous Tag List: @pearlsome @fck-this @ambria @sheeple

@strangunddurm @weirdowithnobeardo @emberenchanted @abbiesxox

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts fanfiction #tom riddle #venomous

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genericpuff · 1 year ago

Note

You mentioned multiple times that Persephone is a self insert of Rachel, how is that so?

Also, I love Lore Rekindled

So obviously it's not like Rachel herself has outright stated that Persephone is a self-insert, but there's a lot of narrative and visual evidence that points to this being so.

Disclaimer before I continue: a lot of this is speculation, take it with grains of salt, but understand that all of the following evidence is why so many people subscribe to the idea that Rachel is using Persephone as a self-insert power fantasy, myself included. This is going to be a long post.

First, the most obvious - Rachel and Persephone look virtually identical, especially when Persephone's hair is short. In a way that's not even reaching at this point, like there are times when Persephone literally looks like she was traced directly off Rachel's face. It's panels like these where you don't even have to squint or fill in the blanks with your own interpretations, Persephone literally looks like Rachel.

There was also that time she dyed her hair pink and her own audience called out how she looked like Persephone (unironically for the most part, which goes to show how much the implications of Persephone being a self-insert of Rachel has gone over their heads, sigh)

She's also made absurd claims in interviews that Persephone and Hades were her "muses" since all the way back in middle school.

I say these claims are 'absurd' because frankly I just don't think that's true, there's nothing from her early-mid 2000's online presence (which is still accessible via the Wayback Machine) that suggests she was into Greek myth content, most of her stuff from back then was medical fetish and lolita art and not a single piece of Greek work is mentioned on any of her profile bios, favorite book lists, or interests, not even once you get to the 2010's when she started shifting away from blatant medical fetish art and more towards marketable storybook-style art.

(she definitely mentions Lolita though 😒)

I firmly believe she's just making up that whole "Persephone and Hades were my muses" thing the same way she's made up her 'folklorist' label to hide the fact that she has no connection to Greek myth whatsoever and was just creating LO on a whim during the era of Hades x Persephone shipping prompts that were popular on Tumblr at the time. It just so happened to become massively popular so she stuck with it and tried to pretend like she always loved Greek myth as a way to justify her success when really it was just luck and circumstance.

But we can go further back than that.

You see, Rachel also really... really likes Mads Mikkelson. Like, beyond just enjoying his work and entering teenage girl obsessive cringe territory. I wouldn't be calling it out if she was a teenage girl or even a young adult, but she isn't - she's thirty seven years old.

Mads Mikkelson is, of course, her dream cast for Hades, and when you see how she views Mads Mikkelson, the rest practically writes itself.

But we can go even further back than that.

Because, you see, Rachel has old art accounts from long before Lore Olympus. Normally I try to avoid posting a lot of this stuff because it's very much old skeletons that we usually understand to leave buried, but this particular piece is very relevant to this discussion.

'Madame issue' was the screenname of her account where this drawing comes from. You may also notice this is very likely where the name 'used bandaid' came from. This character is meant to be Rachel. It was very common for her to draw herself with short pink hair back then and it seems that's barely changed now.

Just wanna also throw it out there real quick that Rachel's birthday is March 21st. Guess what date Rachel chose to make Persephone's birthday? Oh yeah, the first day of Spring, literally March 20th. Which shouldn't even exist yet as Lore Olympus is based on The Hymn to Demeter which outlines the creation of the season. But I digress.

Now, this may be a little irrelevant and nitpicky, but to circle back around to the point I made earlier about her not having any genuine connection to Greek myth, Rachel seems to have always behaved like this, in a way that tries to 'hide' the fact that she's not 'legit'. There are old FAQ's from her art pages that answer questions she's asking herself in a very arrogant "how dare you ask me this" kind of way. Like, she claims to have imposter syndrome, which I'm not saying is a lie, but if she does, she definitely uses blind arrogance as a way to cover up for it. It reeks of early 2000's 'mean because it's cool to be mean' energy and that seems to be an attitude that she hasn't left behind in the early 2000's where it belongs - she's just channeled it into 'girl boss' Persephone instead.

It's become abundantly clear after going through old LO asks/livejournal/flickr/etc. posts that Rachel herself 1.) romanticizes purity culture (again, like the Greek myth 'self-proclaimed folklorist' thing, she's trying to claim she's 'deconstructing' purity culture when her actual beliefs are the exact opposite), 2.) values naivety and youthfulness vs. experience and wisdom, especially with how she talks about Persephone and 3.) constantly tries to act like a 'boss babe' similarly to Persephone.

There's also the fact that the time skip perfectly aligned Persephone's age to be in the same range as Rachel - she's now 30 to Rachel's 37. The time skip didn't have to be exactly ten years, if it was purely to retcon the age gap problems then she could have made it far longer, but she made it specifically 10 years and I feel like it can't be a coincidence when we consider how close in age Persephone and Rachel now are. Recalling that earlier point that Rachel seems to be obsessed with naivety and youthfulness, she probably didn't like the idea of making Persephone 40 because that would be too "old".

That's not even getting into the actual way that Persephone is written. This is the part where I say there's nothing inherently wrong with writing self-inserts, even famous authors do it, but the issue lies in authors writing them as power fantasies and not actual fleshed out characters. Persephone is not a fleshed out character. She does not have flaws - at least none that are recognized as flaws - and she never loses. She does whatever Rachel wants her to do on a whim even if it contradicts previous actions or information we've been shown. Sometimes she's an inexperienced "uwu" teenage girl, other times she's attempting to be a 'boss babe' (but really it just comes across as her acting like a Karen.)

All that said, it's not uncommon for poorly written self-inserts to lack consistent characterization because the author is too hopped up on writing them to fulfill their fantasies, even if those fantasies don't align with pre-existing information. There's also the fact that Persephone herself never suffers any consequences for her actions, even when she's in the wrong, and terrible things that happen to her are more for the sympathy of the audience and less for actual character development, depth, or underlying meaning. The comic's universe and the characters that reside within it bend around Persephone and her wants and needs, and this is something that happens with poorly-written self-inserts a lot especially when they're being written purely as power fantasies and not actual character studies or reflections. Nothing bad will ever happen to Persephone, she'll never suffer real consequences for her actions, and she'll never make any real sacrifices, because Persephone is Rachel and Rachel can't write Persephone separate from herself.

This kind of goes hand in hand with the whole "she didn't make Persephone 40+ because then she'd be too old" thing, but I'd also like to mention real quick that Rachel has never written a female character who isn't like this. All of her main characters from all of her works are women, which is perfectly fine in isolation, but they're all written as the exact same woman, sharing traits of naivety, inexperience, youthfulness and innocence. None of her female characters are over the age of 21. Making Persephone a "doesn't know she's sexy" 19 year old who's often drawn very childlike was very intentional as it's the exact same kind of character she's been drawing for years now, and the fact that she's 30 now is simply Rachel trying to retcon the problematic age gap that she got called out on; with the added bonus that it makes Persephone even more like Rachel.

No, Rachel has never directly confessed to Persephone being a self-insert, but I don't think someone like Rachel - who already speaks with a veil of disingenuous arrogance - would admit to it anyways. The writing is on the wall: how she's written Persephone and every female protagonist who has preceded her is a deliberate choice based around Rachel's own beliefs and values - that women are only desirable when they're young and thin, that the "ideal man" is someone who's above everyone else in power, wealth, and status and will and should use that power, wealth, and status to get what they want, and that women should be as cute and innocent as they can be until any degree of opposition or questioning comes their way, in which they are justified in exercising outright cruelty and abuse towards those in their way, with no in-between.

And that's all I'm gonna say on that.

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus #ama #ask me anything #anon ask me anything #anon ama

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two-white-butterflies · 1 year ago

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hands of gold | aem. targaryen

Description: Aemond discovers a whore from the streets of silk. Her beauty surpasses words.

Rating: Mature 18+ [reader that is older than him, sex work]

Aemond wasn't the kind to fuck whores out in the open.

He kept his indulgences to himself, often using his hands instead of another woman's cunt - but something was different about tonight.

The itch between his legs was far too great to be extinguished by his fingers. He needed - a woman.

"Have your pick of them." the madame graciously offered her ladies for his bidding. His eye trails around the room - inspecting the maidens around him with reluctance. They were all beautiful - but you were the only one to catch his eye.

The woman wearing white - seated upon her bed. There was richness in your features, one that he only sees in his father's court. He would've assumed that you belonged to a higher-ranking family, if it weren't for the place that he discovered you in.

You could feel his gaze upon you - a tightness in his features. Despite his evident manliness, he looked out of place - nothing like the other customers. You rose from the bed, taking a step in his direction. "You like her? She's one of the few that the noble lords pay a pretty penny to fuck," the madame teased, seeing the smile on your face.

"My lord," you breathed - not giving him another second to change his mind. Soon enough, your hands were on his chest - eyelashes fluttering as you tried to make yourself look meek.

"I'll leave the both of you then," the madame winked at you - closing the door softly.

You were one of the lucky ones that stayed in the brothel long enough to be gifted your own room - of course, it doubled as your workstation, but it was fine - it was far away from the grasps of the common men. "What is your name?" he inquired - feeling your hands trail down to his groin. "Does not matter," you whisper.

"What is it that you desire?" you purred - his breath hitches. "What is your fantasy?" you ask - intrigued by the stoic facade he bore. Normally, the noble lords would strip themselves bare - not bothering to mention a single word - no sound, except their moans. He reaches for your chin - holding it properly so that he'd gaze upon your beautiful face again.

Oh, you could understand what he wanted now.

"Huh." he whispered, staring deep into your eyes. A small moan escapes your lips as he forced his fingers into your mouth. You kept your eyes open - looking up at him.

He removes his fingers from your mouth - reaching for the top of your head and pushing you down on your knees. Gods, you turned him on - juicy lips and eyes lined with kohl. You looked up at him again, embracing every indention of his body. He was different.

Your hands slide down to the buckle of his belt - freeing his cock ever so slowly. He didn't need to command you - you knew what he wanted. You could feel the pressure of the cobblestone on your knees, scraping it gently to create a purple bruise for tomorrow.

His cock springs free - a normal size, with large girth. You wrap your arms around it, pumping it a few times to spread the pre-cum. "Ah," he moaned - feeling the first rounds of pleasure. He pushes your head forward - mouth enveloping his girth. You bobbed your head up and down - gagging on his length.

With every swirl, his dignity shatters - all remains of it are left in your room. If this was a dream, he didn't desire to wake up.

He closed his eyes in pleasure - feeling your tongue circle his head. Swirling, gagging and spitting.

He opens his eye again, feeling the pleasure tread away from him. You were smiling at him, pumping his length and suddenly he loses all remnants of self-control.

He cums. On your face.

If this were any other day, he'd be ashamed at the rate of his submission - but you were in front of him and somehow, it felt right. He closes his eye again, feeling you rise to your full height. "Kirimvose," he whispers in a voice that he assumes that he'd be the only one hearing.

"You're welcome," you mumble licking cum off your fingers. You place your free hand on his shoulder. "I'll see you again, right?" you inquire, tilting your head slightly.

Oh, you'll see him again.

@bellstwd @nyctophilic0vitnir @fan-goddess @mizfortuna @watercolorskyy

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mutantthedark · 5 months ago

Text

COD BLACK OPS COLD WAR OC: KENDRA SMITH

GENERAL

Name: Kendra Smith

Age: 28 (1981)

Alias(es): Smith, Owl

Gender: Female

Birthday: May 10th, 1953

Nationality: British

Place of birth: Manchester, UK

Languages: English, French

Affiliation: MI6, CIA, NATO and Rogue Black Ops

APPEARANCE

Hair color: Blonde (dyed)

Eye color: Green

Scars: A few on her arms and wrists

Piercings: None

Face claim: Florence Pugh

Height: 5’4 (162 cm)

Weight: 124 lbs (56 kg)

Build: Slim

Blood type: A+

Family: [REDACTED]

Siblings: [REDACTED]

Personality: INTJ

Kendra has a serious demeanour, expressing very little emotion. Due to this aura, she often comes off as intimidating. She is neither impolite nor an antisocial person, but she has a kind and warm heart. She spends most of her time with Helen Park. Which shows a sensible and respectful attitude toward others, often being discouraged by discourteous behaviour.

FAVOURITES

Color: Green

Season: Spring

Food: Healthy Chicken curry

Drink: Tea

Dessert: -

ABILITIES

Has excellent intelligence and can communicate well.

MI6 training

Weapon skills (Mostly pistols)

TRIVIA

Kendra's name means "Knowing". Other potential meanings of this ancient name include “royal power,” “bold power,” and “chief hero.” It can also mean "Owl".

Kendra tries to cover her scars with tattoos as much as she can.

Most of her friends called her "Owl" because of her thinking and intelligence. The Wise Owl represents the logical thinker.

Clothing she choose is polo shirts.

Kendra wears glasses, only for reading and working on paperworks, but she can see far.

TATTOO DESIGNS

Drawn by me.

BACKGROUND

Kendra was born and raised in Manchester, UK. There is no information about her parents, but she had a strict relationship with them. After her parents had to move to another city to work, Kendra went to University of Oxford, her dream was to be an analyst. One day, when she graduated, a few agents went to visit her and offered to join MI6 because of her intelligence and communications skills. Kendra, being a kind hearted young woman, agreed.

A few months later, she met Helen Park. They had been working together non-stop for international assignments and met Adler Russell during the CIA’s sponsored project. During career, Kendra met another fellow MI6 named “Madam Shell” who was really close with Park before. An intuition happened of Park’s suspicions, Madam attempted to kill Park, but Kendra protected her and earned a few scars from her on her wrists and arms, after failing to curse the inconsequential words, Madam pushed her out of the way and she left the scar on Park’s neck as a parting gift. Hovewer, Kendra didn't renouce, she smashed Madam's head to the wall with great force, which cracked her skull and caused her to kill her. She had to lie to the agents that Madam's been through the "Serious accident."

In 1981, Kendra joined Russel's team in CIA's safehouse E9, tasking to stop the infamous spy named "Perseus". Until then, she met a new teammate with a codename "Bell".

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odyssean-flower · 1 year ago

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The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 5 - Spring: Long-Distance Observation

Masterpost Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: You move into Neuvillette’s (surprisingly modest) house Warnings: None except for restrictive gender roles, also for some reason Fontaine’s regency england (sort of) now? Note: I update this story on AO3 first so please subscribe to the fic there if you’d like to read it faster Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette hanging out in the place where they tried to prevent his birth (or something like that). Also I used him to kill his family member who was hanging out here :(

Previous | Next

"Good evening, Monsieur Neuvillette, I would like to ask some questions of you, if you don't mind."

Upon arriving home from work, Neuvillette found himself confronted by his new wife. She had been sitting in the armchair in the entryway as though lying in wait for him. There was a notebook and a pencil clutched in her hands. Her shoulders were tensed up, like she was squared up for a fight.

Worries crowded into Neuvillette's mind. Was the room not to her liking after all? He knew he should have consulted with her before hand. Or was it the food? He had assumed that she was the type of person with no particular preference, but perhaps that was too presumptuous of him as well. Once again, he dearly wished that he had done more preparations.

Having a wife, he realized, perhaps belatedly, was a surprisingly nerve-wracking endeavor.

Neuvillette cleared his throat and gestured towards the parlor. "Shall we discuss your questions in the parlor? I believe it will be a more conducive environment than standing in the entryway."

His wife blinked, then looked away to the side, as though embarrassed. "O-Of course. I apologize for, er, ambushing you when you just returned from work."

She followed him to the parlor. Neuvillette settled down into his usual chair. Next to it was a little table, on top of which a silver goblet was placed. The goblet was filled with spring water from Qingce Village, a soothing and refreshing balm for a long day of work. Today hadn't been grueling unlike some days, but he suddenly a strong craving for the water.

"Please, feel free to take a seat anywhere," he said.

His wife inspected the various couches and chairs with a cautious gaze. Then at last, she picked the couch that was next to his chair, perching herself right on the edge of the cushion. Neuvillette inwardly sighed. Making people feel comfortable wasn't his strong suit.

He took a sip of his water, feeling its coolness seep through his body. He felt his wife's gaze boring into him as he did so. Neuvillette had often been told that his eyes could unnerve people, something that he had never quite figured out how to fix. He now had an inkling of what those people meant.

"What are your questions, Madame?" Neuvillette said, after settling down his tense nerves. It was strange. He had never felt nervous at all the trials and official functions he had to preside over, but something about this woman, or perhaps this entire situation, made him overthink even the most mundane things.

"Yes, sir. Please tell me the names, titles, occupations, and other pertinent information about all the associates in your circle. Don't worry about talking too quickly. I'm good at taking notes."

"Pardon?" Neuvillette was completely caught off guard by the question.

"Please tell me--"

"No, I've already heard your question the first time. What I mean is, why do you wish to know?"

"Well, as your, you know, wife, it's expected that I would be accompany you to any functions you might attend, considering that you are the Chief Justice. I know we are keeping this marriage discreet, but secrets like these do have a way of spreading among the nobility, and in the case that you entertain visitors, which I am sure is relatively often, I have no desire of putting you in an awkward position with your close friends and associates. Which is why I want to prepare in any way that I can."

His wife's voice was steady, but Neuvillette noticed that her hands were tightly clenched around her notebook. He felt a terrible guilt for not putting her at ease sooner, and some awkwardness. She, like most people in Fontaine, had an impression of him that was very different from who he actually was.

"There is no need to worry about any of that, Madame. Once again, I will give you my word that as few people will know about our marriage as possible. I do not have many personal relationships with others, and as I rarely appear at public or private gatherings, nor entertain guests at home, you will never be pressured to be in any uncomfortable situations."

"Really?" she put down her notebook and stared at him in surprise. "You don't even go to any top-secret noble galas or anything like that?"

"I'm afraid I must disappoint you on that."

"I see..." his wife's expression seemed to relax just the slightest bit, and her shoulders slackened. She began writing down something in her notebook, though Neuvillette didn't have the slightest idea what she could be writing. "What about Lady Furina, then? Since she's the one who pushed you to get married, surely she'd want to meet me sooner or later?"

Neuvillette felt another headache coming on at the thought of Furina. He took another sip of water. "You need not worry about her. I will do everything in my power to prevent her from disrupting your peace. I doubt your paths will cross as well."

"But what if she makes an unannounced visit here?"

"That will never happen." His answer was curt.

"Okay then..." his wife wrote something else down. What is she writing? Neuvillette wondered, but didn't try to lean over to see. That would the height of rudeness, after all. "So, do you have any expectations for me at all as your wife?"

"Madame," he said, looking deep into her eyes. One aspect of human behavior that he learned over the years was that eye contact denoted sincerity, which he hoped was conveyed in his words. "I know that this arrangement isn't ideal or the most comfortable for you, and that I seem terribly high-handed to you, but I want you to trust me when I say that I only want for you to be at ease here so you can pursue your goals without any worry. That is all I want and expect from you. There is no need for you to change your behavior in any way."

His wife's eyes stared back into his own. He couldn't gauge what emotions they contained. "Very well, then, sir," she finally put down her notebook, but remained seated at the edge of the couch. "I'm sorry for coming off like I don't trust you. I just tend to get a bit worked up when I'm in an unfamiliar situation."

"No, the blame lies with me for leaving you in such an uncertain state," Neuvillette said, even as he felt a stirring in his heart upon hearing that she trusted him. Why was that? He was used to shouldering the trust and expectations of all Fontainians, but something about hearing it from her felt different.

She simply nodded, and her gaze wandered around the room. There was a brief silence before she asked another question.

"Who else knows about this marriage...and its circumstances?"

"The only people who know are Marie and the Melusines who work in the Court of Fontaine. Of course, the clerks who work at the marriage registration office also know, but they are sworn to secrecy."

The less people who knew, the less fuss there would be when the eventual divorce was finalized. Furina might pester him about it for a while, but she would forget all about it by the time of the next trial or scandal, neither of which were in short supply in Fontaine.

His wife nodded, looking relieved. She wrote down some more notes in her notebook. Neuvillette suppressed a smile as he gazed at her serious expression. She had said that she was good at taking notes--she must be the type to make meticulous notes about everything.

It was then that she looked up, and he averted his gaze. "Do you like your room?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, it's lovely," she said, fidgeting slightly. "The whole house is, really. And so is Marie."

Neuvillette let out a small sigh of relief. "I'm very glad to hear that."

There was another short silence. His wife fiddled with the spine of the notebook, staring at the low table in front of them, seemingly in deep thought. It suddenly occurred to Neuvillette that he should have offered her some of his water. He rarely entertained guests, so what seemed obvious for others didn't come so naturally to him at times. But still, he needed to make a better effort to make her feel at home, particularly as her husband. Would he ever see that relaxed smile again?

"Sir?" she suddenly spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. "Do you feel comfortable about this arrangement?"

He hadn't expected that. People rarely asked about his feelings on anything, and he had to admit he was glad for that. "To tell the truth, it will take some getting used to," he said after thinking about it for a while. "But it's not uncomfortable for me."

"I see," she said after staring at him for some time. "I will do my best to ensure that there is no disruption to your life as well."

There was a knock on the door, making them both jump. "Pardon me, dinner is ready," Marie said.

After a delicious but somewhat awkward dinner (in which you sat at the very end of the very long dining table), you excused yourself and returned to your room.

Lying on your bed, you mulled over Neuvillette’s words. He said that all he wanted for you was to be at ease here so you could fulfill your goal. Was he that invested in you becoming a governess? A woman who he barely knew, who he wasn’t even friends with? Perhaps it was just your deep-rooted cynicism, but you felt like there had to be something more to this.

However, Neuvillette didn’t seem to be giving up his hidden intentions, if he had any, any time soon. He seemed shockingly genuine, in fact. So there was no point in dwelling on it.

Fulfill my goals, huh...

Your goal was becoming a governess, which you had technically accomplished already, so what was there to do here? Study even more? Well, they did say that changing the environment one studies in was beneficial to retaining information. But in all honesty, you were somewhat sick of reading almost nothing but textbooks (history ones not included) for more than a year, so perhaps it was time to change course.

You passed all your exams of course, but there was room for improvement in some subjects, like music and drawing. You had a piano at home that you used to practice daily, but it was difficult to get access to one in the city. You hadn’t found one in the mansion either. Painting, then? Hmm, but I don’t know if I have the money for new paints and canvas, and I’d rather not spend too much of what little I have...

Once again, you had to laugh at the absurdity of this marriage. But in some ways, it was a relief to hear that there was no need to pretend.

You would of course keep your promise to make sure you didn’t create any disruptions to Neuvillette’s life. But, that didn’t mean you couldn’t indulge in your new trappings, did it?

Thinking about that big bathtub and that array of bath products, you got up and headed to the bathroom.

The days in Neuvillette’s house went by at a slow, peaceful, nearly idyllic pace. It was both something you longed for and something surprisingly chafing.

For one thing, you were used to hearing the bustle of activity when you woke up, whether it was back home or in the boarding house. You never realized how much you found those sounds comforting until the absence of them from your life. The house was too big for sound from downstairs to travel all the way upstairs, so you sometimes felt like you were the only one living in this house until you went downstairs.

The garden quickly became your favorite spot in the house. It wasn’t especially grand or lavish, but it had a little lookout that gave a great view of the sea. You liked to sit on the veranda seat and read or do embroidery occasionally.

Living with Neuvillette was a bit like having a roommate who you rarely saw. There were girls like that back at the boarding house who worked long hours. Like them, Neuvillette woke up in the early hours and got home late when you were already in bed. Though you were married in name only, you thought you should at least see him off and welcome him back home every day, but on the other hand, he had told you that there was no need to change your routine for him…

The days when Neuvillette did come home early were as quiet as the days without him. After you greeted him and asked about his day, he would answer and reciprocate the question, which you would respond in kind. After which there would be a lull of silence before both of you excused yourselves to separate rooms.

To outsiders, your interactions seemed cold. But personally, you thought that there was nothing wrong with being cordial and polite and nothing more. And Neuvillette seemed fine with it as well. Since he rarely associated with others outside of work, he probably didn't care much for meaningless small talk either. At least, that was what you told yourself.

So why did he keep looking at you like he wanted to say something more? And what was with that hollow feeling in your heart as you watched his back turn away with you?

Until that evening at the ball, you had never given the figure of the Chief Justice much thought. You knew what everyone knew, and you had done some brief readings on him as part of your governess training, but now that you were living with him for a year, you should make an effort to learn more about him, after he went out of his way to help you.

You decided to not spy, but simply observe him while maintaining a respectful distance.

He really liked his drinks. You didn’t know what kind of drink it was, but it seemed to be quite refreshing for him. You sniffed it once, but it had no discernible scent. It wasn’t stored in the kitchen either. Apparently, there were different varieties for each day, but you couldn’t tell the difference. Was there a wine cellar around here somewhere? You asked Marie about it, but she told you there wasn’t, and that Neuvillette wasn’t much of a drinker. Maybe some sort of special brew for immortal deities?

One time, late at night, you sneaked down into the kitchen to get some water. You noticed that the parlor door was cracked open and peeked in to see Neuvillette sitting in his chair, drinking from his silver goblet. Unlike before, he had taken off his long coat and cravat, lounging in his waistcoat and white shirt. His gloves were off as well, and you could see the glint of his wedding ring as he stroked it with his thumb. His legs were crossed, and there was gentle music coming from the gramophone. He seemed relaxed in a way you had never seen before, but also a bit...lonely.

You didn’t know how long you were there watching him, but he seemed to glance your way, so you hurried back upstairs as quietly as you could, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest. He didn’t address it the next day, and you decided to bring a glass of water to your room before going to bed.

After spending a few weeks in Neuvillette’s house, you couldn't help but notice that the meals served here were generally...liquid based. There were a lot of stews, soups, meat covered in sauces, and other dishes with a lot of water-content. They were all delicious, of course, but you also craved something drier sometimes, like bacon. When you told Marie that you’d like that for breakfast sometimes, she looked like she was about to laugh and cry at the same time.

You mulled over his odd dietary choices and briefly hypothesized that perhaps Neuvillette didn’t have teeth. You had an elderly neighbor who had lost all his teeth, so his food had to be all mashed up so he could eat. You attempted to (discreetly) stare at his mouth during a rare dinner together to see if your hypothesis was correct (it was not), but you must not have been discreet enough, for he looked at you with a strange expression and asked if there was something wrong. “No, sir,” you said, then devoted your attention to your meal, trying to ignore his stare. He couldn’t read minds, right?

One time, when he got home and closed the door behind him, he suddenly grimaced, then opened the door again before quickly closing it. You then realized what had happened: his coat tail got stuck in the door. The same thing would happen with his hair at times. You also witnessed him almost trip on the stairs once when his spats got caught on something. His expression barely changed during these times, like he was used to it.

Being fashionable sure isn’t easy, you thought as you watched him adjust himself in his chair at the dining table after sitting on his hair again.

On the very rare occasions when Neuvillette came home during the day, he would go to the garden and stand at the lookout for long periods of time. Sometimes it would rain, but he would remain standing there. The first time that happened, you tried to run outside with an umbrella, but Marie stopped you. She explained that Neuvillette enjoyed being in the rain. You couldn’t really understand it, but accepted it as one of his quirks. You returned to your room and watched him from the window seat. You felt an urge to paint this gloomy, strange sight, which was strange as you weren’t particularly artistically inclined.

Then, he turned his head, as though sensing your gaze, and you fell from your seat in your panic to turn away.

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Taglist: @just-simping-over-genshin, @xalphafox, @jqnehr, @favficdump, @thetwinkims

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x female reader #my works #the winding path of fate

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film-classics · 7 months ago

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Constance Bennett - The Hollywood Fox

Constance Campbell Bennett (born in New York City on October 22, 1904) was an American actress born to an aristocratic family of actors of English and Spanish ancestry. Blonde, stunning and honey-voiced, she glided through Hollywood with a sprite-like lightness and definite air of style and sophistication, receiving the moniker, "The Hollywood Fox."

The eldest of three daughters of actress Adrienne Morrison and actor Richard Bennett, she attended the Chapin School in New York along with her sisters Joan Bennett and Barbara Bennett, both of whom were actresses.

She was first Bennett sister to enter motion pictures, appearing in New York–produced silent movies before a meeting with Samuel Goldwyn led to her Hollywood debut in 1924. She took a hiatus during a brief marriage, but resumed it after her divorce.

In the early 1930s, Bennett was frequently among the top actresses named in audience popularity and box-office polls due to hits like Topper (1937). Her contracts with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Warner Brothers, and RKO made her a big star in Hollywood, and her cutthroat contract negotiations earned her the sole female spot among Hollywood’s poker-playing elite comprised of top movie moguls.

By the 1940s, Bennett was working less frequently in film but was in demand in both radio and theatre, and she also formed her own production company, Constance Bennett Pictures, which produced two films. Nonetheless, shrewd investments made her a wealthy woman, even founding a cosmetics and clothing company, called "Fashion Focks."

Shortly after Madame X (1966) was completed, Bennett collapsed and died from a cerebral hemorrhage at the age of 60 in Walston Army Hospital at Fort Dix, New Jersey. In recognition of her military contributions, and as the wife of John Theron Coulter, who had achieved the rank of brigadier general, she was buried in Arlington National Cemetery.

Legacy:

Won the Photoplay Awards - Best Performances of the Month in April 1925

Was the highest-paid actress in Hollywood during the early 1930s

Founded the Constance Bennett Cosmetics Company and a clothing company called "Fashion Frocks" in the 1930s

Formed her own production company, Constance Bennett Pictures, which produced two films: Paris Underground (1945) and Smart Woman (1948)

Made smart business investments, including holding stocks in the historic Arrowhead Springs Hotel

Awarded military honors for her role in coordinating shows flown to Europe for occupying troops (1946-48) and the Berlin Airlift (1948-49)

Nominated as the Hall of Fame: Actress Award in the 1978 Photoplay Awards

Has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 6250 Hollywood Boulevard for motion picture

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nikethestatue · 1 year ago

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The Agreement

Chapter 2

Azriel, Lord Night, the Duke of Velaris

This woman, Elain Archeon.

As he made his way out of the inn, Azriel decided to take a walk.

It was a pretty spring day, with the skies a cloudless picturesque blue, so rare in London that he felt that he owned it to himself to enjoy it. It would be a decent one hour walk from here to his house in Belgravia Square, but he needed to think.

He didn’t want the girl to stay too close to him, therefore, he had arranged for the lodgings to be in Westminster, but far enough away. And yet, despite the precautions that he took, he also relinquished his name and title to her at their first meeting –and it was not something that he had planned on doing. He also didn’t plan on the meeting to go the way that it did, but here he was.

When he had put out his advertisement, and sent the requirements to Mrs. Amren, his criteria was rather simple. He was looking for a female aged 17 to 26, a virgin, with a good reputation, a pleasant appearance and free of diseases. Medical records were obtained from the local physicians–Azriel did not want to deal with TB, gout, or any other unpleasant conditions. He wanted someone well-proportioned, and not too slim or sickly, and neither did he want a girl who overindulged in food. She was to carry his babe, and needed to be healthy and preferably fit. He preferred someone spirited, with a good, cheerful disposition, though he knew it would be difficult to gauge. Anyone could pretend to be anything for a few hours. Ideally, the chosen girl would be someone curious, easy to talk to, and someone who had at least basic education. She needed to be able to read and write, so she could sign the contract.

Everything about Elain Archeron had checked out, after he received reports from his investigators, who had travelled to Dover and to St. Margaret Bay to gather more information about the woman.

The woman, whose photograph unsettled him deeply.

Truthfully, he wasn't expecting much from his advertisement. It was absurd to assume that 90% of responders would not be opportunists and madams, crafty whores and sob-story adventurists. Naturally, no one was familiar with his identity, and even Mrs. Amren, with whom he’d worked before, and who’d proven herself to be an agile and witty woman, was not entirely sure whether he was the one to actually place the advertisement. She was the one who sorted through the respondents, and Azriel’s army of servants and investigators was at her disposal. Mrs. Amren narrowed down the list for him, whittling it down to manageable, and selecting the few girls who seemed to fit all the criteria, before sharing the photographs with her employer.

There were only four women who made the cut.

The first one was a hearty red-haired girl, with a big bust, wide hips and a strong body, named Bryce Quinlan. Her face was appealing and she had large, beautiful amber eyes. Despite her simple appearance, she was in fact interesting to talk to. Gregarious. Well-read. Inelegant. A farmer’s daughter, who studied to be a teacher, she was unapologetically interested in money. Which was absolutely fine with Azriel. But if she was a virgin, then he was a giraffe. He was half-afraid that she’d tackle him on the floor and ride him into oblivion. She might have impregnated him.

So that was a no.

The next girl…he already forgot her name, because the moment she stepped into the room, she buried her face in her hands and began to weep loudly. Then she turned around and ran away.

So that was that.

Disappointed, he still had high hopes for the next girl.

Her photograph intrigued him–she was attractive, with an open, unblemished face, pin-straight hair and big, light-coloured eyes. When she arrived, she was taller than he assumed, and remarkably pleasant of face. She was Irish, and spoke with a lovely accent. Her eyes were bottle green with shades of aqua, and her hair turned out to be reddish-brown. Her face and hands were covered in a smattering of freckles. Gwyneth Berdara was her name.

She was a librarian at the Trinity College Dublin–an unusual position for a female. But she was also a student there, one of very few females accepted to study at the university. Her tenacious attitude, and her open, friendly manner impressed Azriel. She was not young–almost 25–unmarried and studious. It was clear that she was a learned woman, interested in academics and the pursuit of her goals.

“Why are you here?” he had asked her bluntly.

“I don’t wish to marry, Lord Night,” she admitted to him. “And neither do I wish to live in poverty, like so many of my kind. I want to teach and I want to be an academic, but I am realistic–it’s not a position that is easy, or even possible for a woman to achieve. Who’d want to have a female as a professor?” she laughed, sadly, and unhappily.

Azriel understood. She was correct in her fears.

“This opportunity,” and she pointed between the two of them, “would allow me independence. I wouldn’t be saddled with a child, but I would have the money to continue my studies and live the life I wish to live. Perhaps become a suffragette.”

He could see it. This Gwyn Berdara was the kind who wouldn't sit back and hope for a happy ending for herself. She’d fight for it. Carve it out.

In the end, Azriel knew that she wasn’t for him. Mostly, he didn’t want to deny her her goals. He was realistic–even if she thought that the child wouldn’t impact her life, he was convinced that that wouldn’t be the case.

He did what he thought was right in this situation. He wrote a check for £1000 and wished her luck in all her future endeavours. He didn’t have to, but he felt a paternal kind of tug towards her. That amount of money would set her up for life. For him, it was a drop in the sea of his wealth.

Lastly, there was Roslin. He couldn’t recall her surname, but Roslin was a beautiful woman with thick auburn hair, brilliant blue eyes and a thick scar on the side of her neck. The scar did not disturb him, though he wondered what had happened to her to receive such a nasty wound. The conversation flowed comfortably, but Azriel noticed quickly that Roslin was…dazzled. She sighed and batted her lashes, wrung her fingers, smiled and blushed. Azriel thought that she would serve him fine, but it was quickly apparent that she was looking for a husband, and not for a gentleman who needed her to bear his child. Azriel didn’t even want to start upon this road. He dismissed Roslin kindly and politely, and thanked his lucky stars that he did not offer her his name. He was well known and his face was featured in the newspapers with some frequency, but he hoped that Roslin wasn’t someone who read much about political affairs or the War Office.

Elain Archeron was a latecomer. He’d basically given up on the idea of finding anyone even remotely suitable and the task was taking too long for his liking. So it took him by surprise when he recognised the name–Archeron, as in Archeron Shipping, Ltd. It was an unusual surname, which only one family in Britain possessed. Because the origins of the family were in fact Greek. It was once a well-established, successful, widely known shipping company, which had fallen on hard times. When he’d asked Elain about her reasons and she told him about her family, he already knew the story. The father, Voldemar Archeron, had run the company into the ground with bad investments and even worse weather–three of his ships were lost at sea. Whatever was left of the wealth, he squandered. Ida, his wife, had died a few years back of typhus. The three daughters were left without dowries or good prospects. Back about a decade ago, the eldest sister, Nesta, was proposed as a match to none other than the Duke of Dorchester. Her dowry promised to be so big, that her lack of a title didn’t seem to matter. And then, it all just disappeared one day, including Dorchester’s interest. Azriel didn’t know much about the middle or the youngest sisters, until he read the name ‘Elain Archeron’. Mrs. Amren confirmed that Elain was indeed one of the Archeron sisters and it piqued Azriel’s interest even further. Seemed like pure madness that a young woman from a good family, and with what was confirmed to be a spotless reputation, would be interested in selling herself, her womb, and her potential for money. It intrigued him for whatever reason.

There was something that they had in common–the Archerons were also someone who had made it big, who were successful, yet who always remained the outsiders, because of their origins. He could relate. One look at his dark golden skin, his jet-black hair, his aquiline nose and the slant of his eyes, and it was obvious that he wasn’t exactly English. Which he wasn’t. His mother was from the Middle East, an exotic, gorgeous woman, who became his father’s obsession. His father, an English duke, dragged the woman here, actually married her! Yet never allowed her to forget that she was something else. A foreigner. Someone lesser. Azriel’s mother was a beautiful, sad woman, who spent most of her life behind the walls of their various estates–too strange to truly become Lady Night, the Duchess of Velaris, yet virtually enslaved by Azriel’s father. The only kindness his father permitted was for them to adopt baby Cassian. Azriel and Cassian were cousins, though they viewed each other as brothers.

In some way, Azriel wondered if he was repeating his hateful father’s ways?

Was he also forcing an unsuspecting woman into a situation of bondage and sexual slavery? All because he saw Miss Archeron’s photograph and knew, without doubt, that she must be delivered to him.

Simply put, in the photograph, Elain Archeron was gorgeous.

Elain Archeron

The sweetest face, gentle and innocent, like a blooming flower. Thick lustrous hair. A plump cheek that he wanted to sink his teeth into. He didn’t know her colouring, and needed to find out. Were her eyes black or blue? Green or brown? What colour was that beautiful thick hair? He wanted to know what her neck would taste like. How her hands would grip his arms. He needed to see beyond what the photograph offered him.

Seeing her photograph made him send a telegram to Mrs. Amren, requesting an immediate meeting with Miss Archeron.

Today, he saw the girl in the flesh, and he came to realise that he wanted nothing, absolutely nothing more than for her to agree to the arrangement.

He’s been faithful to Morrigan–they had planned on a happy marriage, not one of convenience, but certainly one of mutual attraction and respect, and eventually, maybe even love. And he’s been faithful to her since her accident. No, he wasn’t planning on living the life of a monk, but he needed to secure himself a child, a legacy, for he couldn’t divorce his wife and had to remain married to her while she was alive. Frankly, in the past year, he didn’t have time for any liaisons and didn’t want to arouse any unnecessary questions about the state of his marriage.

Elain, however, was something unexpected. His plans changed the moment she stepped into the room and looked at him with that shy, yet slightly defiant gaze of her huge brown doe eyes. Sad eyes, which spoke of hidden sorrow and grief which was her own. Brown. They were brown. Dark caramel came to mind when he looked into those eyes. Pale, but flushed cheeks, and full, plump lips. A tiny cleft on her chin, and a birthmark on her cheek. Golden brown curls tucked under a simple hat. The dress was plain, a little ill-fitting, definitely not tailored. He imagined that the dresses were shared among the sisters, and it was probably one of the better ones that they had. She wasn’t wearing a jacket, and he could imagine that the poplin dress offered little warmth to her too-thin frame. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t wear any jewellery, even something simple, but the hat was decorated with three beautiful flowers, and there was a little flower brooch on her lapel.

Azriel didn’t expect to be actually fully attracted to her. He thought that she might be pretty enough for him to willingly stick his cock into her. But he was intensely and immediately drawn to her. He fought the urge to come up to her and cup her little heart-shaped face between his hands. He wanted to press his lips to those pink, soft lips, and offer her her first kiss. It would be her first, he was sure. Was it so wrong that he suddenly desired to bring her into womanhood? He added the virginity clause and payment into the contract after he saw her photograph. He was honest when he told her that it wasn’t something that belonged to him, and he wanted to compensate her for it. But just because her maidenhead didn’t belong to him didn’t mean that he did not want to take it. That it wasn’t meant for him. And he wondered if in exchange, he could make the girl with the sad doe eyes see some light and offer a measure of comfort and happiness.

Azriel was a male prone to melancholy and didn’t love or care for most people in his life. He didn’t even love his wife, though he cared for her. Yet the prospect of spending more time with Elain Archeron, of making her his lover, of caring for her physically, of keeping her by his side filled him with a sense of joyful anticipation. Was he feeling excited? Intrigued? Thrilled? Yes to all. He could also be just a lonely man who wanted to be needed by someone, even if it was just for his money. It was possible that she’d come to care for him in some personal way eventually. She was so cute, declaring how she was not looking for love. It was wise of her and he appreciated her rationality and the fact that she knew that there would be no chance of a happy end for her, for them. But it didn’t mean that he couldn’t hope for a connection, for this to be less than just a transaction.

He didn’t even notice his hour-long walk by the time he arrived at his house. Unlike most of his compatriots, Azriel was a soldier, a military man, and though he was only twenty nine years old, he held the rank of a Captain in the army. Nowadays, he actually had a job…Which sort of made him smile, every time he thought about it. Men of his station did not have jobs. It kept him mostly in London, which is what he preferred–yes, he was a Lord, a peer, and held a position at the House of Lords, but he also headed the Intelligence Branch for the British War Office. It frustrated him that Britain was so far behind in its intelligence initiatives, than, for example Prussia, which had established its own branch of Intelligence services back in 1804. Now, almost 100 years later, he was actively working on establishing a new branch–the Doctorate of Military Operations–which would include intelligence gathering and spying. The world was changing around them, and so the needs of his country demanded that their operations moved with the progress.

Azriel spent the rest of the day at his office at Westminster, and was grateful for the distraction because it allowed him the opportunity to not think about Elain Archeron. He couldn’t forget her even if he tried, even when he engaged in numerous conversations throughout the day, and read dozens of documents, and put his signature on reports and missives. He didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings when he finally left work and walked to his club. He always enjoyed walking, particularly when he was in the city and indeed to spend so much time indoors. The walk also allowed him the opportunity to obsessively ponder what Elain might be doing at that moment, and what she’s done during the day. Did she eat enough? He hoped that she had ordered food for herself, and ventured out of the inn and enjoyed the park and the shops. He knew that she wouldn’t spend any money on herself, even if she really wanted to, but he wondered if she’d found something that she enjoyed looking at, or touching. He ate dinner at the club, wishing for the day to be over.

In his head, he was creating a list of things that he wanted to do for Elain. A very hypothetical list, but it gave him something to do and occupied his mind for the evening.

Firstly, he wanted to make sure that she ate and got healthy. The kind of thinness that she sported wasn’t the fashionable type, where noble ladies ate like dodo birds, so they could maintain their tiny waists. No, her kind of thinness was caused by hunger, maybe even starvation. Her tiny arms were as thin as noodles and the collarbones protruded violently through her skin.

So it would take a little time to get her to a place where she was feeling better physically, and hopefully, emotionally as well.

When he initially thought about this scheme, Azriel wasn’t looking for a ‘project’ to sink his time and effort into. He wanted to impregnate a woman, have her have the baby and leave. However, after only one meeting, he was already reconsidering his initial plans. And that allowed for a coil of dread to unfurl in his stomach. What he could not permit himself to do–ever–was to develop feelings for this woman. Any woman.

Morrigan was his priority. He wasn’t going to exchange her for another woman. Yes, the physicians told him that there was no hope of recovery–not only was she paralysed from the waist down, the brain bleed rendered her completely incapacitated. She breathed, and she ate soft, pureed foods, but she needed total care, around the clock, and when he told her ‘for better or for worse, in sickness and in health’ Azriel meant it. Azriel valued loyalty above else, and just as he expected it from others, he also required it of himself. He might not be a faithful husband, but he would be loyal.

However charming, beautiful and desirable Miss Archeron was, and he found her to be enticing in every way, Azriel knew that he had to remain clear headed. This liaison had a purpose, and that’s what he was going to stick to. In the end, she would be ruined. And notorious, if she was not smart about it. He wished to maintain as much decorum about the affair as possible, and of course there was the non-disclosure agreement by which they were obligated to abide.

He’d treat her well, with kindness, he’d pay her the way he promised, but he was going to use her body because he needed to, and not because he wanted to. In the end, he knew how this was going to end–he was going to break Elain Archeron’s heart. He was going to be ruthless about it too. An innocent girl such as herself would undoubtedly find herself enamoured with him, especially because he was going to be her first in everything. And she was going to lead herself to believe that he was reciprocating her feelings. Alas, when all was said and done, the truth would be brutal–she would be left with money, but without her babe, and without love.

He only hoped that she’d be able to find happiness and a good man some time in her life.

And forgive him.

It was 10 am exactly when Azriel stood in front of the door to Elain Archeron’s room. It was utterly quiet on the other side of the door, but he could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, as his blood rushed hotly through his veins. He wouldn’t be terribly surprised if she’d bolted. He was almost expecting it, though last night he was feeling hopeful. The morning light made things clearer, and with clarity came the realisation that this entire scheme was pathetic and at best absolutely ridiculous. It was never going to come to pass and he was deluding himself into thinking that he’d ever succeed. Regardless of how wealthy he was and what riches he offered to someone, no woman in her right mind would go through with this. Even if he wasn’t painful to look at, and was a gentleman, it was still an experience that no one wanted.

He knocked softly on the door.

If he was going to face rejection, he was going to face it like a man.

He knew it was coming, and he’s been preparing for it the entire morning: while he was getting a shave and dressing, he was imagining how she would let him down. Would she be gentle and soft? Would she be curt and upfront? Or cowardly, and simply run away without seeing him ever again?

A better question was–why was he so obsessed with her? Why did he need her answer so badly and why did he want it to be a ‘yes’? Why was he feeling so strangely possessive about her? Her body? Her acceptance? Her acquiescence?

All of last night, he was trying to convince himself that this wasn’t for him, that she wasn’t for him and that he shouldn't be subjecting a reputable maiden to this foolishness. Nevertheless, here he stood, hopeful like a young lad at his first courting.

He knocked harder, when he didn’t get a response the first time.

Heart sinking, he needed to acknowledge to himself that she was gone.

Was he going after her all the way to Dover, pursuing her like a madman? Or was he letting her go, acknowledging that she was an unfulfilled promise?

For the first time in a long time, Azriel, a lord and a duke, a millionaire and a magnetically attractive male, felt terribly lonely.

When he knocked the third time, louder and more insistent, a vast, empty hole opened up in his chest, and when there was no answer, he hung his head low, accepting the inevitable truth.

Elain was gone.

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