#just slice my skin to ribbons

[under--pluto]

can't even put moisturiser on my hand anymore cuz it hurts so much I just started crying 🙃

[cranberrydietcoke]

euphoria - r.c

ex bf ! rafe cameron x kook princess ! reader

content: 18+, drinking & drug use, drunk/high sex, degrading names (slut, whore, bitch), on camera type shit, kinda public party sex, my y/ns are always cream team soz, kinda dubcon ig, he makes her say ily, creampie. def giving s1 fratboy rafe. non-descriptive except for tanned skin n u curl ur hair!

a/n: first rafe fic eeeep! many more to come tho i deadass have feelings for him it’s a problem. & thx u for the luv on my last two fics !! preesh u bad bitches

wc: 3k

your fingers intertwined with sutton’s as she pulled you along, splitting the tight crowd of snapbacks and miniskirts. smoke hung over the purple atmosphere as some future song boomed from the speakers. you greeted each spinning face you slid by with a slurred sorry baby! or scuse’ me!

“bitch nooo, come the fuck onnnnn,” she pleaded, jerking you away from the random man you were offering your vape to.

“later okay! come smoke w’me!” you yelled back at him, trying to communicate with charades as sutton pulled you deeper into the heart of the party. he was cute, but you knew you wouldn’t see him later, considering rafe was about twenty feet away slicing lines on the kitchen counter. the baby pink polo hugged his bicep as he bent over, rolled dollar bill tight between his fingers.

fuck. i miss that platinum card.

a few months ago, you and rafe  were the it couple of kildare, without question. luxury vacations, designer swimwear, a mercedes for christmas, days in the yacht. it was like kim and fucking kanye. even more so now. a breakup had never lasted more than a few hours, usually ending with you both getting high and rafe fucking an ��im sorry’ out of you. but this time, you were actually done with his shit, done having a screaming match every day, done apologizing all the time just so he wouldn’t blow up. sure, it was sad at first. but when it was posted on figure8insider, you had finally reached the last stage of grief: acceptance.

“like why do they even fucking care?” you barked, scrunching a warm, fresh curl in your hand. “how do they even know? shit’s like tmz.” spinning in your satin vanity chair, you turned to face your friend before sashaying to your closet.

“they act like we’re soooo a-list. i’m with your ass every day, you are NOT that interesting,” sutton chuckled, adjusting the strap of her top and checking herself out in the mirror. with topper’s parents away in the virgin islands, his annual end-of-summer banger was everybody’s move for the night, and you were certain rafe was gonna be there.  

“right?” you blew clouds of strawberry pound cake as you rummaged through hangers, “like, i’m not an influencer.”

it came out like a lie, and in a way, it was. you were the sweetheart of the island’s restless and entitled youth, their very own people’s princess. your strapless black dress could only be worn after sundown, barely covering the lower curve of your ass, delicate pink ribbons holding together the cutout of your cleavage. a stack of expensive gold bangles chimed together as you stuffed all your shit into your purse, slammed another shooter, and dialed reagan for a ride.

“you know rafe’s gonna be there, right?” she asked, turning the music down and casting a glance at you from the driver’s seat. you suck your teeth behind your glittery lips.

“duh, bitch! why do you think she got that on?” sutton screamed from the back, making all three of you die in laughter as you hid your face. just like, one more time wouldn’t hurt.

even under the kaleidoscope of neon lights, you could tell the whole room’s attention turned toward you as you danced your way in. sneaking a seltzer from the cooler, you settled at the beer pong table where a group of wannabe finance bros crushed solo cups of natty light, shooting each other starstruck glances and sharing whispers as you glided through, greeting everyone with an indifferent wave and an insincere heyyyyyyy.

“yo, rafe, your girl’s over there,” kelce leaned in, motioning over to the enveloping swarm of people growing around you.

“bro, top,” rafe fell back, slapping topper in the chest, “why the fuck did you even invite her?” he spat out, eyes pulsing.

“dude…why wouldn’t i invite her…” topper stated plainly, as if rafe had asked if the sky was fucking blue. if you weren’t there, that shit was a flop.

“that bitch,” he started, shaky hands sliding in to search his pockets, “that bitch is fucking crazy, okay?” he pulled out a dime bag and his wallet, eyeing his friends who knew better than to speak. he tapped some out on the granite countertop, lining it up nice and clean with his american express, hinging at the waist to align a rolled 20 with the powder, making it disappear in one snort.

before it could register, sutton was dragging you through the sea of people and closer and closer to rafe, forcing you to abandon the crowd of drooling fans. gripping your shoulders, she planted you right in front of him. you looked up, caught between a flash of fear and drunken amusement, an absent smile playing on your face.

“be good okay?” she chided, lightly slapping your back with beaming pride, “text me if you need anything!”

he wiped the excess powder off his nostril with a laugh of disbelief as he stood over you, studying your face. all you can manage is a squeaky and breathless hi as your tipsy blush deepens.

“hey, kid. miss me or somethin’?” he mocked, bringing the tips of his fingers to brush against your arm. 

“oh my god rafe, be serious,” you scoff, batting away his large, lingering hands.

“aw, what? don’t wanna share a blunt with me like we used to?” he drew out, words dripping in honeyed hatred. almost made you forget all the shit he’d put you through. the familiar teal of his eyes roamed over every square inch of your freckled and exposed skin.

“fuck no,” you laughed, watching as his tongue swiped against his bottom lip, “no tellin’ where your mouth has been.”

“right, “ his eyes narrowed as he crouched down, inches from your face, “like you’re some fuckin’ angel.”

breath hot on your lips, encapsulating you with the smell of stout liquor and le labo santal. “won’t smoke with me, but you’ll smoke with ole boy?” he spoke, low and calm through heaving breaths as he motioned with a sharp hand towards the brunette you’d ran into.

fuck. he heard you.

 “i see how it is…bein’ an attention whore since you left, huh?” he backed up, wiping the wetness off his lower lip with the same hand.

“don’t piss me off,” you rolled your eyes, “come on.”  taking his wrist into your hand and leading him towards the balcony door. he had an uncanny talent for manipulating the situation, planting the illusion you had the upper hand, although you never did. you were unknowingly right where he wanted you. digging into your purse, you pull out an m&m mini’s tube, popping it open and flipping it vertically. a blunt slid out and into your fingers, perfectly rolled.

the coastal air was thick with humidity, only lit by the light poles on the beach. rafe’s chest hovered over your back as you stepped out into the salty breeze, brushing strands of hair out of your eyes and positioning the blunt between your lips. just as you fished for your lighter, he moved faster, sparking a flame under his calloused thumb and bringing it closer. he watched you as the fire cast a glow on your half-lidded gaze, crackling lightly as you inhaled. as mean and vile and ungrateful as he was, he truthfully couldn’t imagine himself with another girl. you were bitchy, high maintenance, never satisfied, spoiled, whiny, just so unknowingly powerful. but god, you were fucking perfect. who else on this island would be able to handle you?

“you know,” you hissed, drawing the smoke sharply between your teeth before releasing it in a hazy stream that slipped through the perfect, glossy ‘o’ formed by the soft contour of your lips. “it wasn’t as devastating as i thought it was gonna be.” you sputter, nudging it towards his towering frame which stood outlined by the glow of the orange lanterns. he hit it, tiny little consecutive pecks that made the tip flash on and off.

“really?” he choked between inhales. “cause you look pretty devastated to me.” he smirked, stepping closer, blowing the potent smoke into your parted lips as you instinctively breathe it in. “you miss me?”

“maybe just a little,” you tease, watching the satisfied smirk grow on his face. his free hand traced the curve of your collarbone, fingers lightly brushing the tousled strands of your hair off your shoulder. he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tanned skin.

“i miss your carrdddd, that nice big boattt, the presents.” you sing with a smug smile, hands snaking around his neck, his fingers finding the cushion of your hips, moving and swaying together.

“oh, shut the fuck up,” he looked down at you, dilated pupils scanning your face, “nobody’s fucking you like me, bet that,” a dry laugh left his throat.

“ugh,” you crash into his chest, pressing your cheek into the dry cleaned ralph lauren. whining  ihateyouihateyouihateyou’s.

steady and smooth, he discarded the blunt, wrapping his hands around your back, groping and pawing at your half-revealed ass. without thinking, you lift onto your tippy toes, breath coming in shallow gasps, lips lingering over his open mouth. without warning, his tongue fought its way in, swirling with yours in a hot, desperate hail mary. your lips met in sloppy smacks, stumbling over each other until he eventually had your hips pressed against the side railing.

pulling away, he spoke, low and from his chest. “you hate me? yeah? or do you just miss my dick in you,” his face lingered over yours, “n’ it’s got you all fuckin’ bothered.” you felt the puff of breath with each word. “say it,” he coaxed, hiking up the front of your dress to thumb at the hem of your panties, “say you want me to take that pussy.” his long fingers ran over your clothed clit, making your hips roll against the opulent stone that hung over the thornton estate. he chuckled, shaking his head as his gaze fixed between your legs. “it’s fuckin’ mine anyways.”  

your lips chased after his as he stepped back, tsking at you, still holding you steady by the waist. “nah, baby. gotta say it,”

you closed the distance, pressing your soft, heavy tits into the muscle of his abdomen and the pads of your fingertips into his bicep. face so close to yours, a smirk practically tangible in the air.

“pleaseeeee rafe, i need it,” you panted out, desperate and erratic. “just one more time.” your eyes traced him up and down, sinking into cross-faded euphoria. a single, needy tear fell from the corner of your glittery and bloodshot eye, streaking down your flushed cheek. brushing his lips against you, he flicked his tongue, tracing the path of the teardrop. you moan at the warmth against your cool skin, reaching down to guide his hand between your legs.

“fuck, such a slut.” he breathes out, cupping your dripping cunt and meeting your lips in a deep, perverse kiss. the kind that you just can't help but pull back a little bit. “missed you, missed this pussy.” he spoke in a low guttural rasp, almost inaudible. his wide build shielded you from the large glass doors that led into the party, hooking his fingers in the fabric of your panties and yanking them down, dipping his middle finger into the wetness pooling at your entrance.

“god, need this shit,” he groaned, swiping his finger gently up and down, circling your bundle of nerves. “turn around.”

he gave the command yet didn’t wait for a response, his firm grip on your waist flipping you the other way, leaving no room for a fight. bent over the balcony balustrade, your head hung in the air, looking down at the pool that sat twenty feet below. one of rafe’s hands pinned you over the railing by the back of the neck while the other played and prodded at your hole, getting you ready for him. discreetly, he worked his cock loose, rubbing the tip through your slick folds.

“rafeeee,” you muffle out, face smushed against the stone and immobile from the strength of his grasp. “not here, please, ca-can we just go inside?”

“nahh, i don’t think so, baby. this is what you wanted, right?” his hand slid down, wrapping a fist into the bunched fabric of your dress, pressing into you. your walls fluttered against him, a feeling so familiar yet so distant. lasers from the party strobed through the window, flashing by you. knees buckling, you couldn’t help but wiggle your ass back against him.

“god – fuck!” you squeal out, feeling him balls deep in you, guiding you down his length and filling you to the hilt. reaching into the pocket of his khakis, which still hung low on his hips, he fishes his phone out. with a quick flick, snapchat is open and the flash is washing over you. even with your head hung over the railing, you could still see the spotlight focused on your tight, twitching hole. he slides in and out, using your dress to manipulate the rhythm of your body. capturing everyyyy moment.

“this s’my shit, huh?” he panted out, your ass recoiling against each harsh thrust. “you’re my bitch, y’know that? been my bitch.” voice low and slow, almost cocky, like he wanted everyone to know -  like they didn’t already. the sound of damp, saturated clapping mixed with the crash of waves onto the shore.

“p-please, they’re gonna see,” you whimper, body jerking as he slams into you over and over. imagine the uproar if everyone saw you, little miss untouchable, taking your ex-boyfriend’s cock on the terrace outside topper’s party. grabbing a handful of hair, he yanks your head back, glare of the light fixed on your face. 

“they’re gonna see anyway, baby, don’t be shy. jus’ cum f’me,” your face screwed with his words, brows furrowing as you looked up at the camera with hopeless, empty eyes. just so fucked out. the curve of his dick poked and kissed that sweet spot deep inside you, bringing you closer and closer.

“you love me, huh?” he grunted, still forcing a deep arch in your back. “tell the camera you love me, princess.” you could feel yourself coming loose, guilt and lust boiling over in your tummy. you explode in a squealing moan, gripping on his cock and covering it with cream.

 “i love you rafe, fuck! - love you so so much!” crying through hiccups and flickering eyes, still trained on the flash. such a smart girl getting fucked dumb on camera. such a powerful person yet completely powerless in his hands.

“gonna let me nut in you?” his filming hand went flimsy as he quickened his pace, groaning and letting out short little bursts of air. “y’gonna take it all, be good for me like you used to?” he rasped, met with limp nods and a braindead mhmmm. that’s all it took for him to pound every inch into you, sending you deeper into your daze. fuckin’ dickmatized.

the video on his screen shook violently with each stroke, hot spurts of cum filling you up. “fuuuuckk,” he groaned, hips stuttering to a stop and loosening the grip on your hair, leaving you to catch your breath hung over the railing. he pointed the camera down, pulling himself out and spreading one cheek open with his hand to expose the stickiness dripping out of you. the flash finally goes off, and he saves it to his memories. bringing his fingers up to your leaky hole, he fucks his seed in deeper, eliciting a choked sob from your lips. pulling you upright and flipping you to face him, he squats down to pull your panties up from around your ankles, shimmying your hips into them and pulling your dress down. it was just like y'all used to.

the party was still in full swing as you both slipped back in, parting ways as you went to check in with sutton and reagan, completely disregarding the knotted mess of hair on your head and the streaked makeup down your face. was that fucking real? your legs were tight as you stagger and shuffle through groups of drunk teenagers all bouncing with the music, trying to regain your composure. as soon as reagan spots you from the couch, her jaw is on the floor, ushering you closer with her hand.

“y/n, no fucking way! you slut!” she shrieks with wide eyes and a light slap to your arm. “does sutton know?”

“girl, she set the shit up!” you try to explain, motioning with your hands. “i was like, if you insistttttt.” you lie, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, hitting her with a debby ryan radio rebel type smirk.

“you’re lying,” she goes on, picking her jaw up and taking a swig of her drink. “speak of the devil!” she exclaims, motioning behind you with her drink. a sharp smack landed on your ass, making you jump. sutton’s hand gripped yours, turning you around.

“did you fuck him?” she smiled, obviously drunk as shit and wayyy too loud.

“yeahh, what do you mean…” you roll your eyes, snapping your head to the side with a wide smile. it was evident how excited sutton was, prideful about it. lifting her solo cup in the air and grabbing to lift yours with the other, she let out a deafening woo!

“personally…” she went on, clutching her imaginary pearls, “i think that’s worth drinking to,” she proposed, side-eyeing and nudging you not so subtly. “come on bitch! shots for ken and barbie!”

to be honest, that was the last thing you remember.

the next morning, you woke up nuzzled in plaid grey sheets, your phone buzzing incessantly with notifications. the sound of the groundskeepers filtered through the windows. tannyhill.

fumbling with your phone, the words flashed across the screen.

figure8insider – ‘kildare’s power couple reunited? rafe cameron and y/n y/ln spotted together at party!’

oh.my.god.

[taintandviolent]

Thrill of the Rush ; James March x reader

summary: Reader is a murderer, coquettish and demure in nature. She brings a man to the Hotel Cortez, and it ends how it always ends for them. The only difference, is that James March is watching her and is enamoured.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 2.6k! | serial killer!reader, graphic descriptions of murder, violence, blood and gore, descriptions of smut, cunnilingus, arousal, kissing/making out.

a/n: requested by anonymous and inspired by Lana Del Rey's Serial Killer song! hopefully this isn't too clunky, or boring in anyway! proofread very briefly, if you see any mistakes, no you didn't.

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don't have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you'd like to be notified of future fics!

Elvis’s voice drifted from your speaker. The hotel room was cool, a stark contrast to the hot LA summer outside. The room itself was outdated in decor and architecture, something that you found charming – you’d chosen it specifically for its gorgeous, untouched art deco style. Stephen protested, saying it was rundown and dingy. You shushed him with a single manicured finger and led him inside, heading straight for the hotel desk. 

He was a man. A stupid, hungry man who could only think with one head at a time. So, it didn’t take much for you to get up to the hotel room, and onto the bed. You’d let the strap of your dress fall off your creamy soft shoulder, coaxing him closer to you.

He nuzzled his lips into your breast, tugging softly at the skin. He muttered something into your skin, something grotesque, and you didn’t hear him. You were too busy listening to the thud of your own heartbeat – your own excited little heartbeat. You reached into your purse, which had been laying next to you, to retrieve the knife. It was a beautiful thing; pink pearlescent inlay on the handle, and a long, shimmery silver blade. 

Raising it high above his head, your elegant fingers gripped the rosy hilt of your knife, and using all your strength, stabbed it into the side of the man's neck. The blade sliced through his skin like butter, giving no resistance. There was nothing like the sensation of killing – it never failed in making your eyes glisten, a cruel fire burning bright within them. Your chest fluttered with excited little breaths, rushing out over your pouting, pink lips in tiny gusts. The thrill, the rush, it was unlike anything you’d ever experienced – even sex. No man had ever made you feel the way killing him did. You twisted the knife slightly. 

In response, he gurgled; a delightful sound that had you giggling. You had angled the knife just right, plunging it deep before yanking it out quickly. The blood spurted out in a warm geyser over your hand, trailing down your wrist in crimson ribbons. His hand flew to his neck, pitifully trying to stop the flowing river. You slapped his hand away softly. 

"Pl-please..." He murmured, as his body started to droop away from yours. 

You bent over, kissing the man on the forehead. As darling as you had been before, maybe even more so then. “Oh, baby…” you whispered, cloyingly sweet and soft like a summer day. He knew that he was going to die, and the begging was futile. Still, he persisted, wet and coughing between each plea. 

You pushed him off of your breast, and more blood squirted out, the arteries pumping it out with each beat of his heart. James' dark pupils widened, watching as you worked. He hadn’t made himself known yet, and wouldn’t until you were finished. Nothing should interrupt this delicious display of cruelty. 

“Tell me you love me,” you whispered. “Tell me I’m the sweetest girl you’ve ever seen.” He didn’t. He didn’t say anything else… and he never would again. 

“Hmph.” Frustrated, you got off the bed, and smoothed your hands over your hips; the satin of your slip dress was warm and soft and provided no friction. 

"Seems you've got yourself between a rock and hard place, my dear." 

You spun around. In front of you stood a dashing man, dressed to the nines and resting some of his weight on a cane. He was handsome, but possessed a coldness that drew you in. He wasn't like the others.

"How did you get in here?!" 

"The door was..." He turned to look at it, casually. "Open." 

"No..." You shook your head, soft curls bouncing. Your tone was coy, knowing. "No, it wasn't." 

"Ah," he said, tightening his lips into a sly smile. Had his heart been beating, it would’ve quickened at your darling little response. You were quick; a trait that he enjoyed and very rarely saw.

"He deserved it, you know." You looked at the man on the bed with a disproving sourness in your gaze. His body had slumped over the side of the mattress, blood streamed from the gash in his neck to his hairline, staining it red. 

"I don't doubt that." He inhaled, stepping further into your room. "However... The problem remains of what to do with him. I presume you’ve yet to figure that out." His voice had your knees weak, turning the tendons to jell-o every time he spoke. It was so deep and croony, like molasses if it had a voice. 

"No," you trilled. "No, but you seem like you do." 

"I do," he started. There you went with your quick-witted confidence again. "You see, I have built this hotel to satisfy... my every need and whim, whatever they may be. I have a way to dispose of him for you." 

Your hand lifted to your shoulder, your finger winding a lock of hair around it. You pursed your lips, as though you were considering his offer. The truth was, you’d already made up your mind. He was dangerous, unafraid, but interested in you. A refreshing change from the rest of the men that you courted and ultimately killed. Besides, he was right. You had a corpse in the room and were unsure what to do with it, besides leaving it and requesting another room, claiming something trivial like the hot water not working. 

"Why are you doing this?" You ask, running your tongue along the bottom of your teeth, before coming to rest in the corner of your mouth. "You don't even know me." 

"I don't, my little buttercup, this is fact, but what I do know of you, I crave." 

Your knees wobbled. Somehow, he’d captivated you. You were never taken by men; they were useless, dumb playthings that you disposed of as soon as you got bored with them. You were never the one that was wrapped around a finger, it was always the other way around. But something… something about this man and the sick, nasty glimmer in his pitch-black eyes had you shivering.

“James March,” he declared proudly, before offering his hand. You placed your own atop his palm, and he leaned down, pressing his lips softly against your knuckles. Your lips tensed, withholding a whimper. 

All at once, he closed in the distance between the two of you. Exactly what you wanted him to do, and without asking. You gasped, looking up into his soulless gaze. “Hold me,” you whispered. “Please.” 

With a single nod, he enclosed you in a frighteningly firm grasp. You weren’t going anywhere – not that you wanted to. 

“I don’t know what you do… or what you’ve done…” you whispered, feeling light in his arms. He held you like old movie stars held their beloved; arms wrapped passionately around the waist, holding you tight at the hip. James waited, on bated breath, for you to finish your sentence. Instead, you stood on your tiptoes, and pressed your soft lips against his. They were cool, and immediately surrendered to yours, parting to exhale into your mouth. As his breath filled your lungs, you succumbed to every feeling he was pulling from you; your legs quivered and pressed together tightly. Your core tightened, and your cunt clenched with arousal. Slick leaked into the silk of your underwear, staining the fabric with your submissiveness.

His head tilted, allowing him to go deeper inside your mouth. His tongue slipped along yours, twirling and exploring the soft, slippery flesh of your mouth. Without breaking the kiss, James walked you backwards, guiding you towards the bed. His shin knocked into the corpse’s head, which lolled lifelessly.

You were at his mercy, and gasping for air, broke the kiss to look down at your feet. Stephen’s eyes were glazed over now, void of life. He had paled, the crimson stark against his bloodless skin. A puddle had settled beneath his head, seeping into the carpet. You broke away from James and bent down, shoving all your weight down on Stephen's shoulders. Rigor mortis hadn’t set in, so he rolled over easily, towards the edge of the bed, which freed up most of the bed for whatever came next. 

You immediately snuggled yourself back into James’ arms, nestling against his chest. “There… all better.” 

He hmm’ed at the crown of your head, holding you tight. His hips ground against yours, a stiffness pressing into your hip bone. A reminder – he was a man. But not akin to the other men… he was different. You looked up, gazing into his eyes. 

James guided you backwards onto the bed, your ass hitting the mattress with a squeak of protest from the old springs. Placing one hand on either side of your hips, he kissed you again, urging you back further yet. He was intoxicating. Everything he did had you quivering like a lamb in the jaws of a wolf – and you wanted more of it. More of everything. You wanted him. 

“I love you just a little too much,” you cooed, brushing your lips over his neck. The satin of his ascot brushed against your chin and you longed to feel it tied around your wrists. Your hand brushed along his bulge, feeling the taut fabric that covered it. As the feelings bubbled up inside of you, effervescent like champagne, you couldn’t stand it. No man should ever make you feel the way he did and with a small gasp of air, you reached for your knife again. James caught you fast, holding your wrist in an iron grip. 

“I’m afraid not, my dear. You won’t get that pleasure with me.” 

“Pleasure?” You asked, doe-eyed, feigning innocence yet again. 

“Perhaps another pleasure,” he cooed against your lips, his moustache tickling the flesh under your nose. You were divine… a shining beacon of temptation amongst a sea of poor fools. It had been decades since a woman captivated him the way you did. 

James sank to his knees, slowly, as you watched, holding your breath. His hands gathered your satin slip over your knees, and pushed it over your hips, exposing your silken underwear. The wet spot had grown considerably, and James pressed his lips against the damp fabric. The sensation was electric, sending chills up your spine in a wave of unadulterated pleasure. He kissed her again, pressing harder. He could almost taste her through the silk. You whimpered, and let your head drop between your shoulders. He brushed his lips across your mound again, and you got even wetter. For a brief moment, he disappeared and the reaction was painfully visceral.

“Don’t…. Don’t stop…” you said to the ceiling, out of breath and trembling. You could hardly get yourself upright to look at him. 

“I’ve no intention of doing so, my dear. None whatsoever.” Carefully, as though unwrapping a delicate gift, James pulled your underwear from your hips, tugging them delicately down your thighs. Murder always got him worked up, but this was an entirely different arousal.

“Let me see her…” he said, low His hands were on your thighs, resting carefully atop of them. 

Using your manicured fingers, you reached forward to spread your cunt to him, eagerly, obediently. She glistened in the low-lighting of the room and you heard him inhale. He leaned closer to her and began kitten-licking between your folds, sending a shockwave through your core. She clenched uncontrollably, tightening. James paused to observe, pleased with the reaction. He’d done so little, and you were already a mess. Placing his hands behind your knees, he scooted you further towards him.

Your cunt ached with everything he did; from the gentle touches to the way that his moustache tickled the soft skin of your inner thigh. You weren’t used to your heart beating this quickly outside of killing someone. He was making you feel things you’d long since forgotten. 

To say that you never experienced sexual pleasure would be a lie; you did. Usually, covered in blood and panting, after a kill, your body and senses would be so wound up that you’d finger yourself, use a vibrator, something to get yourself off. But this orgasm, you knew, would be different. And much quicker. 

With a breath, he flattened his tongue against your cunt, lapping at it hungrily. Your muscles all trembled, the first hint of an orgasm clawing at your insides. And just before you did, he pulled away. Cruelly. Mercilessly. As though he knew that he had you under his spell…. Oh, you’d kill him if he’d only let you. 

James slipped two fingers inside your waiting, wet cunt. You let out a desperate yelp, rocking your hips back and forth to meet his fingers. Electricity coursed through your core, your body quivering again. His fingers drilled into you, curling upwards with each thrust, hitting your sensitive spot. The pressure increased, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter around itself. You were close. 

“Speak to me,” he ordered. “Use your voice.” 

You swallowed, wetting your throat. It was frightfully hard to form words, your mind was too clouded with arousal and ecstasy. “C-can’t…. Feels…. So good….” 

James leaned forward again, the tip of his tongue drilling into your sensitive clit, twirling at it. After a moment, he encircled your clit with his lips, sucking softly. You were sweet, wet and singing for him. James hummed into your pussy, satisfied. With his fingers still thrusting inside you, the overstimulation was too much. Your coil snapped, and your hands flew to his hair, making tight fists in the greased locks. 

As you orgasmed, you called his name, chanting it over and over again like a prayer. He was there, between your legs, tugging you over the edge with whispered praises against your throbbing cunt. An attentive lover, James didn’t stop fucking you – or licking at you – until the final pulse subsided. 

“Now that I’ve made you mine,” he said, straightening up. “Let’s deal with your little hobby, my dear.” 

Made you his? You thought, chewing on the corner of your lip, as your eyes bored into his. How dare he – made you his. Despite feeling like you’d been bamboozled, you knew it was true. He’d made you his, and barred you from loving any other man again.

A knock at the door. You looked down at Stephen – you’d almost forgotten he was there. James got to his feet as the door opened, and you noticed that his cock had tented in his trousers, pulling against the fabric, begging for release. You gasped, looking at the woman as she entered. She was pushing a silver room service cart, though it was empty. 

“Fret not my dear, it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before.” 

You furrowed your brows; his erection or a corpse in a hotel room? You weren’t sure which. Effortlessly, James hoisted Stephen’s expired body up onto the cart, waving his hand dismissively towards the woman, who hmm’d curtly, and made her way back towards the door. 

“Follow me,” he said, jovially as he headed towards the open door. He began whistling a tune, as though wheeling a body out into the hallway was the most normal, routine thing he’d done all day. Perhaps it was. You heaved a breath, and got up off the bed, pulling your underwear back up. 

“James, James, wait!” 

He paused. 

“Aren’t you going to… well…” 

His eyes followed yours to his groin, which was still stiff. You sucked on your bottom lip, looking up at him with come-hither eyes. Curiosity had gotten the best of you. Despite having just come, you wanted more, and you desperately wanted to know what the weight of his cock felt like in your hands.  

“Oh.” He smiled, pleased. With a slow nod, he reached forward to cup your chin with his large hands. “I’ll get mine.” 

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part seven

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Seven - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 2k

The road stretches out before us, a seemingly endless ribbon of asphalt cutting through the desolate landscape. The car, a beat-up old muscle car with a purring engine that speaks of too many miles and too many battles, rumbles beneath us. The seats are worn, their once-plush leather now cracked and faded, much like the people riding in them. The air inside is stale, carrying the faint scent of gasoline and sweat, mingled with the metallic tang of blood that seems to cling to everything we touch.

I lean back, my body sinking into the seat as I close my eyes, trying to find a moment of respite. The gentle vibration of the road beneath the tires lulls me into a light, uneasy doze. But it’s not enough—never enough—to ward off the nightmares that wait just beyond the veil of sleep. Images of my world, my friends, everything I’ve ever known, shattered and dying, claw at the edges of my consciousness. The sounds of their screams, the scent of burning flesh, it all lingers, just out of reach, waiting to pounce the moment I let my guard down.

When I open my eyes again, the car is still moving, the road still stretching endlessly ahead. The world outside is a blur, the trees we’ve been driving in continue on for ages, but I can tell we’re close. Inside, the only sound is the soft strains of music playing from the car’s ancient radio, a static-laced tune that feels like a ghost from a time long past. It’s quiet—too quiet—yet I cling to this moment of calm like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.

“You enjoy your power nap, pumpkin?” Wade’s voice slices through the quiet, shattering the fragile peace I’d managed to find. The nickname, as ridiculous as it is, grates on my nerves. I groan, my eyes fluttering shut again, hoping to block him out.

“It was so peaceful before you opened your mouth,” I mumble, my voice thick with irritation. There’s a part of me that just wants to hold onto the silence, to bask in it a little longer before reality comes crashing back in.

Wade’s gaze meets mine in the rearview mirror, his expression playful, as if he’s completely oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface. “I don’t hear Logan complaining.” 

Logan, sitting stoically beside Wade, rolls his eyes. The subtle gesture, the way his knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel, tells me more than words ever could. I chuckle softly, a hollow sound that barely covers the unease gnawing at my insides. 

Then, as if he’s compelled to break the fragile truce, Wade blurts out, “Okay, I’m just gonna ask it. What’s with the suit?”

My gaze drifts to Logan, to the yellow X-Men suit he’s wearing. It’s a jarring sight, one that doesn’t fit the image I have of him—rugged, battle-worn, but never in something so bright, so out of place in this bleak world. The realization hits me hard: I’ve never seen him wear it before.

“The first thing I did when I flamed out, I took mine off,�� Wade continues, his tone light, almost mocking, but there’s a sharpness beneath it that makes my skin prickle.

Logan’s response is immediate, his voice low and edged with warning. “Drop it.”

But Wade, relentless as ever, presses on. “It’s not that ugly.”

“Stop talking about the suit,” Logan snaps, his irritation growing palpable in the confined space of the car.

Wade, ever oblivious to danger or perhaps simply indifferent to it, persists. “Did you make it yourself? Been there.”

Logan’s tone darkens, a growl rumbling in his chest. “Quit now.”

But Wade doesn’t quit. He never does. “The X-Men make you wear it? Those sons of fucking bitches. They are not your friends, I’ll tell you that. Friends don’t let friends leave the house looking like they fight crime for the Los Angeles Rams.”

The words hang in the air, and I feel the tension coiling tighter, a noose around my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the mention of friends—our friends—who are no longer here, no longer anything but ghosts in a broken world.

“Shut the fuck up about the suit,” Logan’s voice is a razor, slicing through the air. It’s ice-cold, and for a moment, I flinch at the intensity of it.

Wade raises his hands in mock surrender, but there’s a seriousness to his tone that wasn’t there before. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Watch your frown lines, angel baby. I’m just trying to bond a little bit.”

“Yeah, well then talk about something else,” Logan’s patience is fraying, each word a thread pulled taut, ready to snap.

“Fine.” Wade’s voice shifts, losing its edge. “If they can fix your world, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get out of here? Rubbing alcohol shots? Maybe a wiper fluid chaser?”

The word “If” lodges itself in my mind like a splinter, unraveling the fragile grip I have on my emotions. My ears start ringing, and suddenly, I’m not in the car anymore. The world blurs, and I see it—Wade, punching Logan in the face. The vision is jarring, disorienting, and then, just as quickly, I’m yanked back to the present.

“What did you say?” Logan’s voice is sharp, pulling me out of the haze, grounding me in the here and now.

Wade, his confusion plain, repeats himself. “So when you get back, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do?”

“No, no, no, before that,” Logan insists, his eyes narrowing, his suspicion flaring.

Wade hesitates, and I can see the moment he realizes his mistake. “If… they can fix your world?”

Logan’s expression hardens, anger and betrayal flashing in his eyes. Without warning, he slams on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt. The sudden stop jolts me forward, but it’s the look on Logan’s face that makes my heart skip a beat. “What do you mean if?”

“I mean…” Wade falters, his bravado crumbling as he struggles to find the right words.

Logan’s voice is a dangerous growl, the kind that makes your blood run cold. “You lied to me. You don’t have a fucking clue if they can help me fix things, do you?”

“No, I mean… No, fuck! Fuck!” Wade stammers, but it’s too late. The truth is out, and Logan’s claws are already extending, a deadly promise in his eyes. Before Wade can react, Logan stabs him in the leg.

Wade yelps, the pain clear in his voice. “I didn’t lie!”

“You lied,” Logan hisses, his voice as cold as the steel in his hands.

I sit in the back, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of guilt and the crushing realization that there’s no undoing what’s already been done. I could have stopped this. I should have stopped this. But it’s too late now—too late to change anything.

Wade, his tone desperate, tries to explain. “No, I made an educated wish. Because I need you.” He pulls out a photo, his hands shaking slightly as he holds it out for Logan to see. “This, this is why. Right here. Because if we don’t do something, they die. I don’t know anything about saving worlds. Why would I even care? Because my entire world is right here in this picture. It’s only nine people, and I have no idea how to save it alone. I know how to fuck people up for money, but you, you know how to save them. At least the other Wolverine did.”

Wade’s voice cracks, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through his usual bravado. “Oh, fuck!” Logan twists his wrist. “I guess I’m stuck with the worst one.”

Logan’s eyes narrow, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Did you say you made an educated fucking wish?”

“They call me the Merc with the Mouth,” Wade tries to regain his usual humor, but it falls flat. “They don’t call me Truthful Timmy, the blowjob queen of Saskatoon.”

Logan’s hand twitches, his control slipping. “One more,” he demands, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Please, give me one.”

Wade, ever the joker, tries to lighten the mood. “Gubernatorial.”

But Logan is beyond reason now. He goes to stab Wade again, but Wade screams, the sound tearing through the car, reverberating off the walls of my mind. I’m sitting in the back, too shocked to move, too numb to process what’s happening. There’s no saving what I’ve done. No changing the hurt I could have stopped.

Logan turns to Wade, his voice dripping with contempt, his words a knife twisting in the wound. “You know what, you’re a fucking joke. No wonder the Avengers didn’t take you. Or the X-Men—they’ll take fucking anyone. I mean, you are a ridiculous, immature, half-wit moron. I have never met a sadder, more attention-starved, jabbering little prick in my entire life. And that says a lot because I’ve been alive for more than 200 fucking years. I’ll tell ya, that bald chick was right. You will never save the world. You couldn’t even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper. Motherfucker, I wish I could say you’d die alone, but it’s one of God’s best jokes that you can’t die, except that’s on all of us!” He slams his fist on the top of the car, the metal groaning under the force, and I flinch, my heart skipping a beat. The tension in the air is so thick it feels like it’s suffocating me, wrapping around my throat and squeezing until I can hardly breathe.

Logan stares at him, his eyes filled with a mix of pity and disgust. “You got nothing to say, Mouth?”

Wade flinches, the words cutting deeper than any blade ever could. His usual bravado crumbles, and for a moment, he looks like a lost child, the weight of everything finally breaking through the armor he’s built around himself. He looks away, his eyes dull, and when he speaks, his voice is barely a whisper. “I’m gonna fight you now.”

Logan chuckles darkly, the sound devoid of humor, and I feel my stomach churn, the dread pooling in the pit of my gut. The vision hits me again—flashes of blood, violence, and something far worse waiting just beyond the edges of my mind. My hands start to tremble, and I know I can’t stay in the car. I push the door open and step out, the cool air hitting my face like a slap. My legs feel like jelly, but I force myself to move, taking a few shaky steps away from the car.

Behind me, the fight erupts with a sudden, violent force. The car jolts as their bodies slam against it, and I hear the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh, the wet splatter of blood as it sprays across the ground. The smell of iron fills the air, sharp and acrid, mixing with the earthy scent of the forest. My stomach turns, and I barely manage to keep myself upright as I stagger over to a tree and collapse against it, sliding down until I’m sitting on the ground.

I curl up, hugging my knees to my chest, trying to block out the sounds of their fight, the horrible, animalistic grunts and growls that seem to echo in my head. But it’s no use. The vision is getting stronger, more vivid. Bright, flashing lights sear across my mind, and I hear a scream ripping through the vision—a scream that’s mine, raw and terrified.

And then, as if the world itself is breaking apart, there’s a loud crash. Logan is shot through the front window of the car, his body flying through the air before crashing to the ground with a bone-jarring thud. He rolls past me, his body leaving a trail of blood in the dirt. I tuck my legs closer, curling into a tighter ball, trying to protect myself from the onslaught of sensations that are threatening to tear me apart.

The vision crescendos, a blinding storm of light and sound, and then, just as suddenly as it began, everything goes dark. There’s nothing left—no sound, no pain, no fear. Just an endless, consuming void.

Next Part

A/N: I’m so tired, I need sleep updates will probs be slow.

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @somiaw @100percentlazybonez @obsessedwthdilfs @sun7lowxr @corvid007

[rottenpumpkin13]

I was going to ask for baby Seph changing places with CC Seph because omg baby Seph and Dadgeal and Momesis but then I realised that means CC Seph will go back to the Nibelheim Mansion in the past and uh uh.

Anyway Dadgeal and Momesis for the win.

*Genesis and Angeal are caring for baby Sephiroth, Zack walks up to them and taps Angeal on the shoulder*

Genesis, bouncing Sephiroth on his hip: Can you believe three people have asked me if we've become parents already?

Angeal, shaking a baby bottle: We're just taking care of our friend until he turns back to normal.

*Zack taps Angeal's shoulder again*

Genesis, feeding Sephiroth: So now two men can't care for a child without being accused of being parents?

Angeal: You're feeding him too fast!

Genesis: I told you to make the formula thicker!

Angeal: Nothing I do is good enough for you!

Genesis: Don't spin this around on me!

*Sephiroth is crying*

Angeal, pulling out a toy: Oh no!

Genesis, hugging him close: He's upset!

*Genesis and Angeal start cooing and soothing him*

Zack: I have never been more jealous in my life.

(Meanwhile)

The first few minutes after Sephiroth wakes up in the past are visceral, as there’s only so much confusion and pondering before realization and fight or flight kick in. Several scientists, lab technicians and security guards were caught in the bloodshed, each blurred face no more guilty than the last in Sephiroth’s eyes.

The alarm was triggered, but by then, what could they do? He had already broken free from the caged crib he had woken up in, and one of the men they answered to had already been dealt with. Hojo’s scrutinizing face had been the first one peering back at Sephiroth through the bars, and the first to paint Masamune’s blade red.

He hadn’t seen Gast anywhere, but Sephiroth wasn’t looking for kind people or soothing words. Nothing could mollify or mend the nerves that spiraled out of control the moment he noticed the lab equipment and the assessment photos of his baby faced self staring back at him through the computer monitors around the room.

He had gone back in time, that much he knew. But the logistics of how such a thing could happen or where he would proceed from there would have to wait. Right now he was focused on escaping just as he had wished to do so many times before.

Except this time he was older, stronger, and had Masamune’s hilt in a tight grip in his left hand, a security measure as he kicked open door after door and looked for a way out. He held no memory of this mansion no matter how deeply he searched his addled mind for one. Nevertheless, he opened doors, flew down flights of stairs and ran down hallways all while the alarm blared behind him.

Sephiroth’s vision blurred in and out of focus, his heartbeat reverberating in his ear as a rush of blood prickled his hot skin. He needed to find an exit, a window or even a—

“Sephiroth?”

The slicing clink of Masamune being drawn followed by a woman’s gasp. Sephiroth kept the sword pressed at her neck, his vision sharp as he narrowed it at his target.

And then white noise all around him. Widened, slitted green meeting frightened soft brown. The yellow ribbon in her brown hair, the violet blouse, it was her. It was his mother—looking him up with the same alarm reserved for seeing one’s deepest horrors.

Sephiroth froze, the air caught in his throat, his grip on Masamune slackening. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, his mind fixated on the face staring back at him—a face he had always known, always feared, always yearned for.

"It really is you!" Lucrecia breathed, her voice filled with wonder, though her body remained stiff with disbelief. Her eyes moved over his form like she couldn’t reconcile the image in front of her with the baby she had seen only hours before. "But how—?"

Lucrecia’s expression shifted, her mouth clamping shut as her wonder dissipated into palpable urgency. Her hands came up slowly, one reaching for his sword arm while the other touched his chest—her touch set his skin on fire.

“We have to go. Now.” Her voice was urgent, cutting through the haze, but she didn’t wait for his answer, and didn't allow him to question her. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist as she tugged him forward.

Sephiroth stumbled after her, barely registering the doors they passed, the alarms still blaring behind them.

The elevator doors came into view, and she punched the button with urgency. Sephiroth still couldn’t speak, still couldn’t form the words that clawed at his throat, the tears in his eyes—why were there tears? Hadn’t he always wanted this?

The doubt was immediately shattered as the doors closed behind them. Lucrecia turned, grabbing his hand and pulling him into a protective hug, her fingers tracing his back as she held him close, gently, nurturing. “My son,” she whispered, “what have they done to you?”

And that was what did it for him. His choked cry came as a precedent to the soft sobs. He dropped Masamune, the hilt clattering to the ground and falling into the wall of the small elevator.

The contact was overwhelming, the senses in overdrive.

“It’s okay,” she whispered into his ear, as if one would speak to a child. “We’re going to be okay now. Trust me.”

[galaxiasgreen]

⛅💗Nippy

Fluffy Ominis x F!Muggle-born!Reader [T-Rated, 1.5k]

He laughed, a rich sound, deep from his chest. You glanced sidelong at him then. The glow of the lamppost was cleaving shadows over his face, cutting at angles, accentuating what you'd never noticed about him before – his beauty. Sebastian was boyish good looks, round cheeks, a devilish smile. Ominis had none of that same charm, but there was something so divine about his features, his sloped nose and knife-sharp lips, hair combed back in golden-brown waves. And his eyes, despite not seeing, were... intense, unforgettable. Vivid.

It's cold on the way back from Hogsmeade, and you forgot your jumper.

A/N: This is a scene from Troublesome and Unladylike Chapter 2, but it’s edited to work standalone. Jumper-sharing trope, Oh No He's Hot, banter and fluff ahoy. Reader is Gibby, but no prior reading is required. Enjoy <3

[read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

It was during third year that something about Ominis changed for you.

It wasn't a particularly warm day that March weekend, so it was a mistake on your part to go to Hogsmeade with him and Sebastian, late that Sunday without a proper cardigan. The afternoon had deceived you, the sun whispering against your skin, and by the time you'd bought everything but your usual stash of sweets, a swathe of clouds had rolled in, a grey ribbon across the sky.

"What do you mean, the essay was twenty inches?" Sebastian crossed his arms. "You're pranking me."

"It was twenty, Sebastian," said Ominis, exasperated. "I told you it was twenty."

You nudged your head towards Honeydukes. "Okay! Just to replenish my midnight snacks—"

"You said it was ten!"

"I specifically remember saying add another ten."

Sebastian said a word you could not repeat. "It's due first thing in the morning. Blast it. I better go back. Can I take a look at yours?"

"So you can copy it? I don't think so."

"I wouldn't copy it. Just... take inspiration from it. Verbatim."

He made the approximation of a glare, and Sebastian, wincing, turned to you with a desperate gleam in his eye.

"Gibby? Please?"

"Sure!" you chirruped. "But only if you're okay with a mediocre-to-dreadful Potions score!"

Sebastian threw up his arms in exasperation. "You two, honestly. I'll ask Anne."

When he hurried off, back to the carriages, Ominis snorted. "You're very secure in your mediocrity."

"It's one of my best traits."

To that he laughed. "Very well then. Honeydukes?"

By the time you came back out, armed to the teeth in your weekly supply of cherry pops, Fizzing Whizzbees and rock, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and a sharp wind sliced through the village. It only exacerbated by the time you stepped out of Hogsmeade.

Where there were no carriages.

"Fiddlesticks," you muttered. "We must have missed the last one."

His lips buttoned in displeasure. "Makes sense. You took a profoundly longtime deciding between cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties."

"It's a hard choice to make."

"Well, now we're going to have a hard walk."

About an hour, down the meandering path back to Hogwarts. Ominis gathered his belongings and headed off, wand drawn for navigation, and you scrambled to catch up.

As the chill deepened, the canopy snuffing the coming rays of the moon, you kept close to his side, aware of his warmth.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"For taking so long in Honeydukes."

He scoffed, not seeming particularly annoyed, albeit a little inconvenienced. "I know you well enough now to know you cannot be rushed in there. And I could've left you if I wanted. I just decided not to because I am a good person."

"My papa says if you have to tell people you're a good person, then you're not a good person." Teasing filled your voice. "I guess that makes you really quite terrible."

"Oh, yes, waiting for you. How rotten."

"Suppose I could give you the Good Person award. You just have to admit how amazing I am."

"Only a Good Person can bestow the Good Person Award, so I'm afraid you don't qualify."

"I take offence to that. I'm spectacular."

"Incredible how you manage to be simultaneously spectacular and mediocre."

"Hey!"

He laughed, a rich sound, deep from his chest. You glanced sidelong at him then. The glow of the lamppost was cleaving shadows over his face, cutting at angles, accentuating what you'd never noticed about him before – his beauty. Sebastian was boyish good looks, round cheeks, a devilish smile. Ominis had none of that same charm, but there was something so divine about his features, his sloped nose and knife-sharp lips, hair combed back in golden-brown waves. And his eyes, despite not seeing, were... intense, unforgettable. Vivid.

Your gaze unwittingly travelled down the column of his neck. He'd grown taller since you'd known him too, lean in the way a river meanders, lazy in its strength. Sturdy biceps were hidden within woollen sleeves – not muscular, but not flimsy, either, you knew from when Sebastian cast a Shrinking charm on his shirt once. The Gaunt family were all inbred, generations of parents and grandparents that were cousins, so Ominis was a product of centuries of incest – but aside from his eye condition, and his somewhat ropey gait, there were no physical indicators of poor health.

He was... arrestingly exquisite.

Oh. You blinked. Why am I thinking that?

"What's the matter?" he asked suddenly.

You flushed. "Hmm? What? What do you mean?"

"You're quiet. That's never good."

"I— can be quiet," you said, a little breathless. "I'm... thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself."

You swatted him, and he smiled lightly.

"Dare I ask what occupies your mind?"

How good-looking you are. "Sweets."

A tsk. "I don't know what else I expected."

You fell into companionable silence, but now something had shifted in your stomach – something that drew your eye back to his profile again, drinking in the details, the beauty marks, the even jaw, finely slashed, the quirk of his smile—

You stumbled suddenly, toe hitting a jutting rock. You flailed your arms, bags rattling, before you managed to right yourself – and noticed how he'd reached out, ready to catch you if you fell. Ever the gentleman.

"Careful," he warned.

"Yes, sorry, too busy staring at— the view."

The view being you. You forced yourself to watch your feet, frustrated. Stop staring. It was terribly perverse to take advantage of him when he couldn't see, not to mention impolite and very unbecoming of a lady.

"You're quiet again."

"Sorry, sorry," you said automatically. You hoisted your bags to wrap your arms around yourself. "Just— trying to stay warm."

"You're cold?"

"It's a little nippy."

"Nippy?"

"Sorry, Muggle thing— I mean chilly."

More than that now. The sun had dipped, leaving a paint stroke of indigo in its wake. Hogwarts was in view, but it seemed no closer, the path winding and long. You hadn't even passed the balcony yet, where all the older students hung around to do lewd things... like holding hands (that had been quite the shock when you first got here).

Ominis sighed. "You should've brought a jumper."

"I know. I'm silly."

"Tell me something I don't know."

You halted to put your bags down and pull your shirt sleeves over your hands. "I'll be okay. I'll jog it!"

A ruffle of fabric pulled your head back up. Ominis had pocketed his wand, sticking out of his trouser leg, and was shucking his jumper. The shirt beneath it caught, flashing his midriff when he pulled the wool off – you flushed an even deeper colour when he offered it to you.

"W-What are you doing?"

"It's cold," he said, like it was obvious. "You can borrow this."

"But— then you'll get cold."

"I'll be fine." He shook it again. "Take it before I change my mind."

The wool was coarse, a dark green with the Slytherin insignia emblazoned on the breast, but warm – warm from his body. Great Scott. You scrunched it before sliding it over yourself, and of course it was too big, drowning you, but it was the scent that disorientated you worse than a Confundus charm. Ominis never bothered to use cologne, preferring some scentless soap, but still it smelt of him. Sweat and wood and an oily lotion. When you finally pulled your arms through the sleeves and your head through the neck hole, glasses askew, you were dizzy with it.

Lord have mercy. Your gaze flickered to him – he'd picked up your bags of sweets with one arm. One well-defined arm.

"Let's go."

You could barely swallow. What on earth is wrong with me? But your heart was pounding, your ears ringing. He turned away to go, but he was also surrounding you, invading your thoughts with zero intention to leave.

If you were a Muggle, your mama would've thought to bring you to church with an agenda by now, introducing you to boys of similar age in hopes that later in life you'd find a match, marry, and start a family. When you were younger, the local baker's son Timothy liked to joke you could marry each other, an easy escape from the societal obligation to court. You'd agreed as all children do, appalled at the idea of parading around to search for a husband.

Magical folk didn't follow those same customs – strange as it was to adjust – but that didn't mean you didn't think about the future, about marriage. That, one day you might like to have a family. That it would be nice to marry someone of your choosing, someone both handsome and kind.

Someone like Ominis Gaunt.

Oh no, no, no, you thought. Please do not take a fancy to your best friend.

But by then, it was too late.

"Thank—" your voice came out as a croak, and you tried again. "Thank you for this."

He slowed about two strides away. "Bring a jumper next time."

"I will."

"Mean it."

"I do mean it!"

He smiled again, and your heart bounced. "We'll see."

Please reblog/ share if you enjoyed <3

[read Troublesome and Unladylike on AO3, Wattpad] [Divider credit]

[verbenaa]

to bask in your warmth

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:

“I’m not the only one who would look lovely with ribbons around my wrists, you know.” Your eyes flick up to his own as you wet your lips at the thought—dear, sweet Astarion writhing below you with the same rosebud hue tracing his wrists to keep him pinned as he is able to do nothing but accept the love and pleasure you have to give him.

“Something you think about often, hm?” His lips quirk up in amusement, his eyes finding your own as he basks in the heat from your warm body tucked into his side, thinly veiled interest present in his gaze.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Astarion/F!Reader

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut, fluff, slice of life!

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 7.5k

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: soft fem dom, light bdsm, switch Astarion, use of restraints, body worship, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69, lingerie, face sitting, anal play, anal fingering, double penetration (in two holes), p in v sex, multiple orgasms

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

𝑎/𝑛: hello hello, this is likely the filthiest thing I've written thus far? idk, but it sure feels like it! this is technically a sequel to another fic of mine (so that i may dream tonight), but you don't have to read it first to enjoy this! I always attempt to write these so that they can be enjoyed individually or as a little series <3. I hope you enjoy and let me know your thoughts! I appreciate and love you, dear readers!!!

ao3 here

masterlist

You peek out from between the small breaks in the painted wood of the partition screen, eyes on Astarion where he lays upon your shared bed—looking quite comfortable, all things considered.

“Darling, how much longer are you going to make me wait?” You can see the mercurial impatience building in the slight downwards tilt of his brows as they move low across expressive crimson eyes, his breath leaving him in an impatient huff as he shifts the tiniest bit on the blankets.

“Patience, Astarion.” You adjust the slip once more around your figure, making sure the rosy silk sits perfectly across your curves, the soft lace falling just above where the matching lace garter rests high on your thigh.

It was a delicate thing, the slip. Astarion had made it for you some weeks ago, every measurement perfectly tailored to caress your every curve as it falls to the tops of your thighs, delicate lace trim tickling the skin there with every move you make.

What lay underneath the dainty slip, though, was a surprise. You had tried so very hard to find the perfect set of lingerie, making sure the color matched as closely as possible to the same pink of the ribbon that had once wrapped around your wrists in bows, keeping you bound in place to the bed.

The words come back to you in a warm rush, the memory still fresh in your mind despite the weeks that have since passed.

Still in that delicate haze of your earlier lovemaking, the pink ribbons no longer tied to the bed but resting on the night table instead, your head laying on Astarion’s chest as your body is pressed in close to his own. 

“I’m not the only one who would look lovely with ribbons around my wrists, you know.” Your eyes flick up to his own as you wet your lips at the thought—dear, sweet Astarion writhing below you with the same rosebud hue tracing his wrists to keep him pinned as he is able to do nothing but accept the love and pleasure you have to give him.

“Something you think about often, hm?” His lips quirk up in amusement, his eyes finding your own as he basks in the heat from your warm body tucked into his side, thinly veiled interest present in his gaze.

“I think about everything when it comes to you.” You seal the words with a quick kiss to his lips as you brace yourself against his chest.

With one last breath you step out from behind the partition, eyes falling to Astarion as you take in the vision of him tied up with that same perfect, pink ribbon.

He reclines on the bed, the worn softness of the linen blankets brushing across the bare skin of his back as his arms flex against their bonds, testing them from where they extend to either side of the bed, each tied lovingly with perfect, pretty bows around his wrists. 

Astarion looks divine like this, his lean figure perfect as he lays there naked, his skin ethereal within the dim light of the room as the finest of silver moonbeams shine onto the floorboards.

“Like what you see?” His eyes rove your own figure as you speak to him from across the room, a hunger evident in his eyes as he looks you from head to toe, taking in the fine silk and lace of the slip that covers precious little of your form.

“How could I not?” You smile with painted lips at Astarion’s reply as you make your way to the bed with slow steps, letting Astarion’s eyes capture the sway of your hips as you near the foot of the bed.

With a smooth motion you glide onto the luxurious linens, moving on hands and knees as you kneel over Astarion’s form, the silken slip brushing over his uncovered skin as you slowly move over him.

You feel more than see the subtle twitch of him as the silk flutters against his length as you hover just above him, careful not to let your body touch his own as you make your way over him.

“If you can be good, maybe I’ll even let you see what I have on underneath.” You keep your words light, playful even as you give him a wink; you have no real intention of keeping much of anything from him tonight and you certainly have no punishments planned.

No, you would worship him as much as he was willing to let you. Prove your love and appreciation of his trust to allow you to bestow this pleasure upon him.

There’s another telltale twitch of his growing erection as you finally make your way to where his head lays on the pillow, your hands pressing into the bed on either side of silver curls as you hover there, looking down on him.

“I have to say, Astarion, you look so very beautiful like this.” You lean your head down towards his own, the tip of your nose brushing down the side of his cheek as you make to whisper into his ear, lips brushing absentmindedly against his skin, a small shiver making its way through his body at the tiniest semblance of touch from you.

It was tantalizing to be in control like this, to have Astarion tied up beneath you and at the mercy of your whims and desires. But it was a careful balance, one you were so deeply and intimately aware of—the many implications of Astarion’s trust in you, that you would never stray too far beyond his comfort level; the fact that Astarion has even given you a chance to have such power over him at all may be the most important detail of it all. 

You lower your body down to rest on his, silk against cool skin, as your hands move to run through his hair in soothing motions. Astarion’s eyes search the features of your face, waiting for further instruction as his legs widen beneath you, welcoming your weight between them as your stomach presses against his own.

“Astarion,” His name on your lips captures his attention, his eyes snapping to your own. “You have to promise me that you will use your word if you need to.”

You watch as the weight of your words fall upon him, Astarion nodding in agreement as a familiar affection fills his gaze. 

“You have my word, dearest.” Astarion gives you the smallest of smiles as you lean down to press your lips to his own, sealing the promise with a kiss.

Astarion’s lips press back against your own, your lashes fluttering shut as you bask in the feeling of it. You lean back only slightly, just enough for you to lick at his bottom lip, asking for entry. Astarion obliges, opening his mouth to you as you meet him, your tongue swirling with his own as you deepen the kiss.

With the slightest motion you move back to take his bottom lip between your teeth, nipping it lightly, enjoying the small sound he makes in response as you begin to move your lips down his elegant jaw, your kisses hot against the coolness of his skin as you head towards the line of his neck.

You settle back onto your knees, your weight pushing off of him as you nip at the skin below his ear, tiny little bites that serve to only make him shiver in response to the feeling of your teeth against his skin. 

With the tiniest of kisses, you make your way up the shell of his ear, careful to keep the touch light. He’s always so sensitive here, the delicate point an easy target for you to begin your little plan of worship.

You kiss up to the very tip, the warmth of your breath and the soothing touch of your lips has Astarion letting out a gasp underneath you as his body tenses, the ribbons pulling taut as you give him another soft nip. Astarion groans as you soothe a kiss to the bite, and you don’t have to look back to tell how hard he must be already, even with such little touch from you.

He always was so very susceptible to your attentions, once he let you in, once he trusted you enough to allow you to shower him with the affection. 

You smile against his skin as you kiss down the other side of his ear and onto his cheek once more before slowly moving lower, mouth dragging down his neck and onto the sharp collarbones of his chest.

“Your skin is so pretty, Astarion. So soft and smooth…” You nuzzle into the side of his throat as you bring your hands up to caress over the planes of chest, brushing over hardened nipples that have nothing to do with the cool air of the room.

Astarion gives you another one of those delectable little gasps as your lips continue downward, strands of your hair brushing against his bare skin as the heat from your mouth makes its way to his nipple.

“Everything about you is pretty though, isn’t it?” You look up at him under lowered lashes, letting your head rest on his chest as you pause your ministrations. 

“Well, I certainly like to think so.” Astarion says with his usual air of haughtiness, despite the hardness of his cock bobbing beneath you and those elegant hands of his still bound in pink ribbons.

“I’m quite tempted to agree.” You flash a devilish smile at him for only a moment, before turning your head back down to the open expanse of his chest to lick at his nipple with a flattened tongue.

Astarion moans at the unexpected sensation, his eyes closing in pleasure as his head tilts back against the pillow, the line of his throat exposed. The sight of him brings a flush to your cheeks that runs to the tip of your ears, your own arousal heightening at the obvious bliss that decorates his features.

You bury your face against his chest, kissing and nipping and licking at him while your other hand comes up to give his other nipple attention as well, just as you know he would to you.

Astarion’s sharp little gasps and moans, the bucking of his hips into the space between where yours still rest elevated above him, the sight of his hands flexing against the ribbon binding his wrists is all such a sight—one that you burn into your mind, a memory to be kept and held for the rest of your life.

It was such a gift, to be able to give him the same attentions he so frequently showers your body with, to worship him in such a way beyond your usual loving and affectionate words or gestures. The feeling of the trust that you know stretches both ways giving you a high that is indescribable. 

Lips move, kissing their way to his other nipple to give it the same attentions, your hand tracing teasing lines along his abdomen—lower, but certainly not as low as Astarion would like.

His back arches off the bed ever so slightly, your fingers teasing on his hip as your mouth continues its work, his noises only fuel to the fire building between your thighs.

You move down his body with aching slowness, marking the lines of his body with kisses pressed to his skin—the expanse of his chest, the soft lines of definition of his muscles, the dip of hips as you make your way to a destination that waits eagerly for your attention.

You kneel between his open legs, careful to avoid any touch on his erection as it rests against his stomach, bobbing as your lips move closer and closer, your hands on his hips gently pushing him into the mattress.

With a motion to the side you avoid where he wants you most as your lips press against the skin of his hips instead, so near and yet so very far from where his cock waits for the promise of your warm mouth.

Kisses and licks press on either side of his body as you continue, reveling in the precome that leaks from the tip of him and the soft cries from his throat. You had always assumed Astarion would be vocalwhen being denied, though you never quite thought he would be so wordless and without clever retorts, instead reduced to these small little sounds. 

“Ah! darling…” Astarion’s voice is tight with unfulfilled pleasure as your tongue licks close and his hips buck against your grip on them, the sound of the slightest bit of desperation in his words enough to have you looking up.

Astarion’s head leans up off the pillow as he watches you, panting breaths escaping from his lips as he pulls the bonds tight, the expression on his face one of open yearning.

The silk of your slip brushes against his erection as you move back up his body with the intent of mercy, the smoothness of the fabric providing the slightest bit of friction that has Astarion bucking into your stomach in an attempt at relief, a sigh of relief leaving his lips as you feel tiny dots of his precome decorate your slip in a line.

“I thought I told you to be patient.” You flick his nipple lightly in response, his hips jumping into your own once more. With one last kiss to his chest, you rise atop him, your knees on either side of his hips, your bodies no long touching.

“Since you’ve been so good, I’ll give you a little treat. What do you say, love?” You run your hands down your front with little hurry, Astarion’s eyes following your every move as he watches your fingers finally curl around the lacy hem. 

Astarion looks positively wrecked as you look down on him, the duality of being touched and kissed and licked but never where he so desperately needs feels almost cruel, his length painfully hard despite it never once being touched.

With unhurried hands you drag the slip up your figure, baring yourself to him inch by inch as he watches before you move to pull it over your head and throw it onto the ground beside the bed where it pools onto the floorboards to be forgotten.

Astarion’s eyes make their way up and down your figure, taking in the flush of your nipples from underneath the light colored lace that ensconces your breasts, pushing them up just so.

You’re unable to help yourself as you lean over his torso, hand caressing his jaw as you press a firm kiss his plush lips, nipping at his bottom lip once before pulling back upright.

“You’ve truly outdone yourself, darling.” You let Astarion’s praise wash over you,  smile on your lips as you brush your hands over your breasts, fingers teasing above the lace as you luxuriate in the open wanting on his features below you.

What Astarion is not quite so prepared for, though, is your panties.

He doesn’t even notice them at first, simply passing the lacy undergarment over with his eyes once before returning up where your breasts sit high. The thought that your usually observant lover fails to recognize the fact that the small triangle of lace only conceals the very front of you while leaving your entire center bare only serves to send your confidence soaring ever higher. 

The underwear—if you could honestly even call them such a thing—was simply that tiny bit of pink lace at the front, the rest nothing but the satin of the waistband and then two matching strips curving around the plumpness of your rear, leaving the entirety of your core and behind exposed to the cool air of the room.

It’s not until his gaze makes its way further down your body once more, claret eyes caressing your skin without touch as he takes his time to truly admire, that he sees the slightest bit of your center peeking out from under where the lace ends, his eyes zeroing in on the space between your hips as you widen your knees to better clue him in.

“Dearest, are those…” His words run off as you smirk, letting a hand run down your body and over the front of the ouverts to run lower instead, fingers brushing over soft lace before disappearing to run through your uncovered slit.

“Open at the bottom? Yes, they are.” Astarion’s mouth dries out as those fingers of yours come back up, hints of dewy wet glistening on your fingertips. His eyes watch with interest as you extend your hand towards his mouth and you delicately press damp fingertips against his lips.

He opens his mouth, pink tongue darting out to lick greedily at your slick on them. His tongue on your fingers has heat surging down into your empty cunt, and you can feel the heat blooming on your cheeks, certain that your arousal must show on your face with the way Astarion’s lips curve up into a smirk.

“I can do so much more with my tongue if you’ll let me have a real taste, my love.” He speaks the words with your fingers still touching his lips, pressing a small kiss to the delicate pads of them.

“A taste of what, exactly?” You tilt your head in mock confusion as you purse your lips, moving your hand from his mouth to instead trace the curve of his jaw.

“Oh, I think you know, darling.” His smile is pure sin as his lashes lower over half-lidded eyes, the picture of seduction as he lays beneath you, ready and waiting.

“I’m not so sure I do. I think I need you to spell it out for me.” You move your knees further up his torso despite your playing coy, your empty core all the closer to his waiting mouth as you feel curls of anticipation at the mere thought.

“What I want, dear mistress, is for you to move up here and put that sweet cunt of yours on my face.” 

Astarion’s head leans up, mouth moving towards your thigh as his teeth grab at the garter resting there, pulling at it and letting it go. It snaps back against your skin, the slight sting making you jump as you narrow your eyes down at him. 

His smile is nothing but deviant in response.

“And here I thought I was the one in charge.” You raise a brow at him, a corner of your lips quirking up in amusement.

“Are you honestly saying that this wasn’t part of your plan when you picked those out? Darling.” Disbelief colors his every word as his own eyebrows raise in skepticism.

“A mistress never tells.” You move to kneel above where Astarion lays his head on the crochet-trimmed pillow, steadying yourself on the carved wood headboard beneath your fingers as you widen your knees around his face.

His head moves to the side, pressing light kisses against the skin of your upper thigh, though his eyes don’t leave your exposed core, the lace stopping right before the place your slit opens to him. He can see everything like this, your center spread above his face, all soft and wet for him.

“Are you sure, Astarion?” You look down at him, waiting for his confirmation before you lower yourself down despite the hypnotic kisses he places along your thighs.

“There could be no finer honor than that of your sweetness upon my lips. So do it.” Such dramatics from a man currently trussed up with nowhere to go. There’s an open ardor to his words despite his levity that has you lowering yourself down upon waiting lips with little ceremony, eager to give both of you a reward.

The first touch of his tongue on you is euphoric, your eyes rolling back as he laps at your waiting wetness in time with the soft moans that fall from your lips.

Astarion’s tongue dives deep into your center as he whorls around your walls before he exits to lick up to your clit instead. He continues like this, a little pattern designed to drive you wild as he alternates between deep passes inside your cunt to sweet little licks around your clit, your moans ringing out in time with his mouth on you.

He’s always been so talented at pleasuring you like this, though the feeling is seemingly more intimate with your thighs around his head, body lowered down onto his face as you ride his mouth, his tongue precise as he pleasures you.

He laves at your center, leaving no part of your most intimate place untouched by him as he worships you, just like this. It would be so easy to come for him, to feel him drink up your very essence as it spills from your body with the same vigor he does the blood that runs from your neck.

Your hips jump as he presses against the small pearl between your legs just right, a soft gasp falling from your open lips as tension begins to grow deep in your belly with the pleasure. Astarion moans against your pussy, the sound and vibration of it only bringing you that much closer to the inevitable end.

“Let me hear you, love.” Every word has his lips brushing against your sensitive skin before he flattens his tongue, licking a broad stripe up the center of you before his lips attach to your clit, sucking at it. 

You keen above him, letting him hear the soft moans and whines that fall from your lips as your lashes fall shut. It’s an effort to keep yourself up, knuckles turning white as you grasp onto the hard wood in front of you, Astarion’s pace intent to hurtle you towards completion far sooner than you would like, especially when you have other equally delicious ideas in mind as well.

You summon your will as you move your hips up and away from his mouth despite Astarion’s noise of protest, your own impeding orgasm ruined as you catch your breath.

“Oh, hush. I have a better idea.” You smile down at him between inhales and exhales of air, swiveling your body around to face your front towards the foot of the bed instead of the headboard. 

“You’re the one in charge, dearest.” Astarion makes a show of licking at his lips in a way that has your flush deepening, the pink of them glistening with your slick.

You lower yourself back down onto his waiting lips, letting his tongue get back to work flicking against your clit as you lean your body down over his own, lace covered breasts pressing into his the hard lines of his stomach as you find yourself face to face with the evidence of his arousal.  

Astarion’s ministrations pause as he feels you finally grab his aching cock between your hands, your lips finding the crown and placing a soft kiss, coating your lips in the precome beaded there.

Instinctively his hips buck into your waiting lips, the needy moan that falls from his throat music to your ears as you let your tongue peek out from behind your lips to lap at the head.

Astarion buries his head into the apex of your thighs, tongue lashing at your entrance as you lick down the length of him. Your tongue moves up and down his shaft as he licks into your core, each of your working towards the other’s release.

With plush lips you take him inside your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you work him in as far as you can without choking, a hand coming up to assist in the act as to stroke the length of him that doesn’t fit inside. Your head bobs up and down, hair soft as it brushes against his thighs. 

You pay your own pleasure no mind as you focus on the feeling of his cock in your mouth and on your lips, the taste of him mixing with your saliva with every pass up and down him.

You pop off his cock to lick, following a vein as you reach the base before swirling your tongue back up him again to suck on the head. Your let your weight rest on him as your other hand glides down his body and past where your mouth sucks at him to brush a teasing touch against his balls.

Astarion lets out a deep moan into your core, tongue pushing into your entrance as his nose brushes against your clit as he eats you out. With soft hands you squeeze lightly, cupping them in your palm as you take his length into your mouth once more.

You can see the tension in his thighs as your hands and mouth work in tandem, his mouth losing its cadence on you as you suck and lick and touch, eager to drive him to brink before you lose yourself to the cascade of pleasure heading towards you.

With a hard suck to his cock and a squeeze of the hand cupping his balls you feel Astarion tense beneath you, his hips bucking into your open mouth as his moans fill the air.

Astarion comes on your tongue in spurts of white that you drink down, swallowing his spend as you stroke him through his orgasm. His cum is warm as you swallow, the taste of him familiar as you let his hips thrust into your mouth.

He comes down from his high slowly and you finally lift off his softened cock, tongue licking off the remnants of his climax as you move your body to the side of his and look back at him. His head rests on the pillow, hair strewn as the ribbons sit slack, breaths leaving his chest in pants.

“You didn’t come.” Astarion annunciates each word as he cracks open his eyes to look at where you lounge beside him as you make a show of licking your lips.

“I had other pressing matters to attend to.” The completion of Astarion’s pleasure at your hands far overweighed your own desire, the point driven home by the sight of him, fully spent.

The raise of his brow is all the answer you receive as he recovers from his orgasm, his breathing evening out as he looks you up and down, gaze assessing.

“Would you do me the favor of freeing me, love?” Astarion makes a show of flexing his hands as he looks at you pointedly, tightening the bonds as he asks for release.

“Was this too much, Astarion?” There’s a slight worry in your tone, the pull of your lips the tiniest bit downwards as a crease between your eyebrows forms. You are quick to move over him, fingers grabbing onto the ends of the ribbons as you pull them undone, moving from one hand to the next.

“Oh, far from it, my dear.” Astarion’s hands dart out to connect with your waist, running up and down the skin he has yet to get to touch. His eyes follow his hands as they move up your ribs. 

“In fact,” Astarion continues, “I could have taken much, much more. But I find myself wanting something else you have to offer.” 

His hands tighten around your waist as he sits up faster than you could have expected, the hands bracketing your sides now giving you a gentle push onto your back as you give a small noise of surprise.

Astarion captures both your wrists in his hands and pins them above your head, newly freed fingers flexing as they circle your wrists. His nose brushes the skin of your neck, breathing in your scent as his tongue flicks out to taste your skin, his body hovering above your own as he pushes you harder into the linens.

He licks a line down the column of your neck that has you arching up into him, the coolness of his lips against the heat of your own skin always a sensation beyond description.

With slow kisses, he works his way across your collarbone and onto the swells of your chest, lips and tongue and nose brushing against the skin there as he caresses his cheek against the lace of a still covered breast.

With the turn of his head, he mouths at a nipple, the lace darkening with the wetness of his tongue against the now pebbled peak. 

He buries his face in the cleavage made from the lingerie as he makes his way to your other breast, a hand coming down from where he keeps your wrists above your head to thumb at the damp lace left from his mouth.

“This has been quite the reward.” He licks over your other nipple as his fingers play with its twin, your lashes fluttering shut as your hips jump into his own. 

“You deserve it. And more.” You whisper the words on a shaky exhale, Astarion’s cock already hardening once more as you roll your hips into his, pressing against his erection.

“Always such a sweetheart.” He punctuates his words with kisses up the line of your chest as he moves up a hand to cradle your cheek, his lips meeting your own with a tenderness he bestows upon no other being but you.

“On your knees, darling.” You hear that soft command in his voice, the sound of it kindling to the fire deep in your belly as you nod, his hands releasing you as he leans back to give you space to move. You turn over for him, pillowing your head onto the soft covers as you prop your knees up on the bed, spreading your legs for him.

You feel his hands caress the skin of your hips as they move up to your waist, his eyes glued to your dewy center exposed to him like this. He moves his hands up to your shoulders, fingertips briefly digging into the skin there as he rubs away any tension he feels before they trail back down the skin of your spine, fingertips moving vertebrae by vertebrae with impossible slowness.

“You had your fun, and it was absolutely delicious,” Astarion grips your hips as he leans forward to press a burning kiss to the base of your spine before leaning away once more, a hand moving lower to brush through your wet folds. “But now, I want to have mine.”

He gathers your arousal with slow, teasing passes of his fingers, moving up and down your slit from your entrance up to your clit and back again as he wets them in your slick, soft moans leaving your lips from his light touch. 

“What a good girl you’ve been, picking out such pretty things and pleasing me so. You are far too good to me.” Two of Astarion’s fingers dip into your entrance, pressing in lightly as they glide in ever so slowly until they are fully seated inside you to the knuckle before pumping them in and out. “But you are an absolute menace in these panties, darling.”

You whine at the sensation, though the pleasure ends far too quickly. Almost as soon as it starts, Astarion’s fingers leave your aching pussy, pulling out of you slowly to trace around your entrance instead as you let out a noise of discontent.

“Patience, sweet thing.” He repeats your earlier words back to you as he collects more of your slick before moving them once more, fingertips brushing past your entrance to somewhere else instead, your wetness leaving a streak of arousal up the cleft of your bottom.

You gasp as the tip of a finger brushes over your other hole, body reflexively tensing as he rubs over the puckered entrance, spreading your slick in a light circle around it. Astarion keeps his touch feather light, small and simple circles that trace around the entrance, not yet working to press his finger inside you.

Even just the barest of touches on such a sensitive area has you swallowing in anticipation, the fire deep inside your body raging as you wait for him to give you more. More pleasure, more pain, more anything.

Astarion leans down towards your raised hips to press kisses to the roundness of a cheek, dragging his lips across your skin closer to the place where his finger keeps up its exploration. 

You feel his fingertip move away only to be replaced by the wetness of his mouth. He licks at your hole, his tongue ringing circles around the sensitive entrance as his hands come up to spread your cheeks. The feeling of his tongue pressing onto such a place has you crying out, hips bucking into his face as he continues.

“Fuck, Astarion.” You pant, eyes closed against the pleasure as you breath out the words. 

You feel him hum against you in response, tongue pressing harder against you as your moans turn desperate. Astarion’s finger joins back in with his tongue, coming to massage you as his tongue still licks.

He presses a soft kiss before he leans away, his own breathing heavy as he sits up. Your eyes open at the sudden absence to look back at him, taking in the sight of him with pupils blown wide in lust as his cock sits erect between his legs. 

Astarion shifts slightly as he reaches over you and into his night table, fingers quickly finding his prize. He sits back upright, a hand brushing soothing fingertips across your lower back as he holds up the small vial of oil between his elegant fingers, the viscous liquid slowing moving from side to side before sliding down the glass.

You watch with bated breath as he uncorks the vial and dribbles the oil over his fingertips before moving it to dribble over your ass. The oil is cold as it drips, bringing a chill over your body as Astarion quickly corks it and lays it aside. 

His finger touches you once more, smoothing the oil over your entrance with slow, soft motions as he readies you. His other hand comes to rest upon your hip, thumb brushing soothing lines up and down into your skin as he finally presses the very tip of his finger into your ass.

The feeling is visceral as it sends a spike of heat straight to your empty cunt, your body parting for him easily with the help of the oil, the sensation one so unlike any other.

Astarion leans in, his lips caressing the skin of your lower back, pressing soothing kisses as he slides his finger deeper, drawing a low keen from your lips as the pleasure increases with every inch his finger slides.

His finger finally fills you to the knuckle, Astarion giving it an experimental wiggle inside you. Your moans fill the room, eyes squeezed shut as you exhale, pleasure striking deep inside with that singular motion. With a slow, delicate movement, Astarion begins to pull his finger out, carful to leave the tip still inside, before he pushes back in.

Astarion lets his finger move with slow, even thrusts as your voice echos off the walls of the room with his every motion. 

“Does that feel good, darling?” He keeps his voice quiet, but the undercurrent of heat you can hear in his words only adds to your building pleasure.

“Gods, yes.” Your words are a sob as you are unable to help the small noises leaving your lips as his finger moves, Astarion alternating between thrusting his finger and wiggling it deep inside, each action driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Your core squeezes empty as heat builds inside of you, your own denial of your pleasure earlier making it all burn all the hotter as Astarion lets his finger work you up higher and higher, edging you closer to your climax.

“Can you take another?” His words are soft, questioning, as his free hand grabs the vial on the bed, uncorking it with his mouth while he waits for your answer, drizzling more oil onto you. 

You nod, unsure of your ability to form coherent words as Astarion has you on the brink like this, so close but still so far from your orgasm. You feel his finger pull out only to be joined by another, and together his two fingers press in to your body. Astarion gives you time to acclimate, working in slowly and stopping to give you time, only moving deeper once he is confident your body is ready. 

“Are you alright, love?” Your heart could melt at the affection in his voice as you nod your head to him again, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks as your cheeks flush.

By the time both his digits are seated full inside, you feel lost to the pleasure, the slight stretch of pain only adding to the euphoria as Astarion pumps his fingers softly, your body writhing. 

“Should I fuck your pretty ass open with my fingers? Get it all nice and ready for my cock later?” You whine at his words as he scissors his fingers, stretching you ever so slightly more as he says the words.

He can see the evidence of his ministrations, a new gush of arousal leaking from your cunt with filmy strings sticking to your entrance. He leans his head down, pressing his tongue out as he circles your entrance, licking at the slick he sees as his fingers keep working inside your ass.

“I want you to come, dearest, can you do that for me?” His tongue finds its way to your clit, giving it the smallest little licks as he waits for your answer.

“Yes. Please.” The words are barely a whisper, desperate and needy. Astarion obliges you, though, licking faster as his fingers keep up their motions.

Astarion draws your pleasure out masterfully, though it doesn’t take long for you to hit the peak, the flat licks of his tongue on your pearl and fingers pressing deep inside bringing you to your climax within what feels like mere seconds.

You cry out as the heat crescendos, your hips bucking as you finally fall over the precipice of your pleasure, mouth opened in an almost silent moan as white hot heat fills your body.

Astarion licks at your clit softly as you ride the wave of completion, fingers slowing in your ass as you come hard, your knees weakening from the strength and overwhelm of it.

You collapse onto your stomach, a veil of tears lining the edges of your lashes as your body still writhes with the aftershock of your orgasm, Astarion’s fingers pausing as you come down from your high.

“For fuck’s sake, Astarion.” You breathe out on a soft laugh, eyes still closed as you feel the slightest bit of drool on your cheek you failed to notice.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet.” Astarion’s smirk is incorrigible as you feel his hardened cock pressing at the entrance to your cunt, the fingers still inside you wiggling ever so slightly once more. 

“Do you think you can you take my cock, darling?” He leans over your back as he says the words, pressing his chest into your hot skin as he whispers them into your ear softly. The position has his fingers pressing harder, pleasure already beginning to build back up inside you.

“I think you already know the answer to that.” You buck your hips back into his waiting hardness, the tip of him breaching your walls has both of you sighing at the feeling.

“Always so insatiable, my love.” Astarion rocks his hips forward, pressing in slightly as he nips at your ear and his free hand grips your hip harder.

“It’s a wonder where I could have learned it from.” Your words are a gasp as he thrusts into your warmth with little warning, filling you in his entirety in a single stroke. 

The fullness of him nestled deep inside your core while his fingers fill your ass is sheer bliss, a sensation that you weren’t sure you would ever get used to no matter how many times you’ve had tastes of this particular type of pleasure.

“So tight, sweet thing.” Astarion groans into your ear, hips still as he lets you acclimate to him. He presses a soothing kiss to your temple as he slowly begins to move his fingers once more.

Every movement of his fingers feels multiplied with Astarion filling both your entrances, your cunt clenching on him as you moan. You move your hips with a subtle motion, wanting as much from him as he would give you.

“Fuck me, then.” You press back into him as much as you can with him inside you, both front and back filled to the brim with him.

“Impertinent little thing.” Astarion tsks as he swats at your bottom playfully, moving his hand up over the curve of your rear to rest on your hip. He squeezes his fingertips into the skin of your hip as he grants you your wish.

Astarion pulls his hips away from yours, his cock dragging against your walls before plunging back in with a hard thrust that has you practically singing before repeating the action once more.

Astarion fucks you hard, hips slapping into the skin of your ass as his fingers piston inside you simultaneously, drawing your pleasure from both entrances as he times his thrusts in and out of your body with near perfect rhythm.

“You look so lovely like this, taking me in both.” Astarion is breathless as he thrusts, his cock hitting deep inside your cunt.

“I know. And I know you love it.” You try to move your hips back into his own, meeting his thrusts as well as you can despite your prone form on the bed. It’s so tight like this, the dual feeling of his fingers and his hardness beyond amazing.

“Oh, I do, darling. I do.” Astarion breathes the words hard as he keeps his pace steady despite the growing pleasure in your belly building up higher once more.

A particularly hard thrust has you both moaning as he leans over, pressing his forehead into your shoulder blade, his panting breaths warm against your own heated skin.

“I want to feel you come around my cock.” The words have you clenching harder around him, body tightening as his fingers continue to move inside your other entrance.

Astarion’s thrusts change their pace ever so slightly, the angle different as he finds the place deep inside that has you gasping in time with his cock. He hits your g-spot each time, the moans that fall from your lips nothing short of euphoric as you near completion once more.

All it takes is one more little quirk of his fingers inside your ass for your thighs to shake and your fingers to grasp at the blankets beneath you in balled fists as your orgasm hits just as hard as the first, eyes squeezed shut in bliss as your hips move against his own as you ride out your pleasure.

The feeling of your body squeezing around his length and fingers has Astation following right after, the warmth of his come filling you deep one you barely notice as his thrusts hit a fever pitch.

Your mind drifts as you come down from the high, Astarion’s thrusts slowing as he too works his way down from his pleasure. He gingerly pulls his fingers from you, moving the digits slowly despite his cock still thrusting lazily into your core, his come leaking from you and onto the linens below.

With one last kiss pressed to the back of your neck Astarion lets his cock leave your warmth, the mess of both of your spends decorating the blankets and your bodies.

Astarion walks over to where the washbasin sits in the corner, grabbing a soft cloth and wetting it before returning to where you still lay face down, catching your breath.

He kneels on the bed beside your body, reaching between your thighs with the cool cloth to clean the mess of cum and oil from your overheated skin.

“I think we made a mess,” You are quick to recover as you move to sit, reclining casually against the bed as Astarion comes to rest beside you.

His fingers dance over your skin in tiny patterns, the tips of them moving across your body as if tracing the lines of the many garments he now spends his time to make.

“Hardly, darling.” Astarion’s fingers dance up towards the clasp holding the lingerie across your chest, flicking it aside with clever feelings as he peels it off your body and throws it. “In fact, I think we can make an even bigger one.”

“Oh? Do tell.” Another raise of your brow, interest piqued.

Astarion climbs over where you lean against the pillows, now his turn to swing a leg across your hips as he straddles your form, eyes looking over the ever so tender skin of your neck as he licks his lips.

“Care for a snack, darling?” 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

“Have you ever had a Harveston apple before? They’re some mighty fine eatin’. Um I mean they’re pretty good. My meemaw just sent me a whole crate and I can’t finish it all myself so I’m passing them out. Want one? I heard from Ace you like apples.” - 🍎

So tell me, do you wanna go?

The boy held out an apple. He was smallish and delicate looking, with lilac locks and long lashes framing big, sparkling blue eyes. The collar of his uniform was gathered lace crowned with a necktie done up as a ribbon.

If Fellow didn’t know any better, he would have easily mistaken the boy for a living doll. He thought the idea laughable—a bitter reminder of his last gig.

Whoever he was, he was no nobleman’s son. No, he had opened with an accent Fellow recognized from somewhere rural and humble. Here was a common man, squished into a suit and thrown to the wolves to fend for himself. His eyes were not mistaken.

“Don’t mind if I do! Thanks for the grub, kid.”

Fellow accepted the apple with a broad grin. He could see his reflection in its shiny red exterior, even before he polished the fruit on his jacket.

Crunch.

His teeth cut into the apple, slicing its skin and revealing the crisp white flesh underneath. Sweet juice--sweeter than he'd ever tasted, almost candy-like--burst spilled his tongue. He hummed in satisfaction.

“Whoa, you weren’t pullin’ my leg. This stuff’s premium!” He hungrily eyed the crate of unclaimed apples in the boy's arms.

“Heheh. Harveston’s real proud of its produce." The first year glanced down, patting the top of his crate. "I should hand the rest of these out now."

"Hold on a second!" Fellow blocked his path--sights still set on the apples. It would be nice to bring some back for Giddie.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Why the rush? We've barely gotten to know each other! What's your name, champ?"

"It's, er... Epel."

"Epel!" He slipped a hand on the boy's shoulder. "And you're from Harveston, you say? I've been there myself during my worldly travels! Nice folks you got there. So warm, so hospitable!!"

(Fellow neglected to mention that the story started with he and Gidel sneaking onto someone's farm and liberating them of a chunk of their crops. It had been a particularly bad day and the vegetables had just been lying out there. A recipe of convenience, a risk worth taking.

They had been caught red-handed, been accosted by a flurry of frying pans and angry locals. It had taken plenty of groveling and sniveling to sort things out. When the locals' rage had simmered down, he and Gidel had been invited in to stay a while, given that they promised not to steal anymore. Some food and a bed, and they were all set for that night.)

Epel bristled, pulling away from Fellow. "Ah, no ya don't! Ace warned me that you're sneaky and to not fall for anything you'd try to pull."

He faltered. “What else has he said about me?! Fellow Honest-sama's got a reputation to keep."

It's going to be harder to scam these students if word about me gets around.

"Uh... Well..." Epel hesitated. "That you were kinda pathetic?"

"PATHETIC?! I'm not pathetic!!" Disbelief rattled Fellow's voice. He gritted his teeth, fingers digging into his half-finished apple.

Y-You're being pretty pathetic right now though...? Epel stayed tight-lipped for his own good.

Fellow released the Pomefiore student and stomped off, waving his cane in the air as if spearing an invisible man with it. Spit flew out as he cursed the boy with the heart over one eye.

"Why, that smarmy little...! MARK MY WORDS!! The next time I see that guy, he'll get what's comin' to him!!" Fellow swore loudly.

Epel awkwardly stared after him. "Wh-What just happened?"

[themisimagines]

labyrinth

content: you and vyn attend a birthday party hosted in his honour but end up doing something rather more fun in a garden labyrinth. wink wink nudge nudge. again inspired by anna karenina (2012) film but also labyrinth (1986). maybe a companion to 'i could sleep inside the cold of you'. some spoilers for episode 10. total porn without plot. characters: vyn x fem!reader warnings: public sex, hunter-prey relationship, breeding kink, minor knife play

On your second last day in Svart, Vyn's father hosts a birthday party for Vyn – all to keep up appearances, of course. His father isn't present, and Vyn dislikes half, if not most of the people there. You've made your way through most of the evening by his side, and finally things have begun to wind down, the guests suitably drunk and starting to do unspeakable things, sure to forget everything by tomorrow. Vyn has told you to keep close – he doesn't trust half the people here, and your kidnap by his uncle is still fresh in the forefront of his mind.

Then the next moment, you find yourself wandering the grounds of a large garden maze, heart beating out of your chest as you run as fast as you can, trying to get to the heart of the labyrinth before you get caught. Every single twitch of the leaves and hedges beside you makes you jump. You've dropped pieces of clothing slowly to make a trail, so you don't get lost. Thank goodness they dressed you like an iced cake – layers upon layers of silk, lace, underskirt, petticoats, gloves, ornaments, brocade, outer layers, inner layers, not to mention the hoops used to prop up the voluminous skirts.

Just as you shed one of your outer layers, exposing your bare skin to the chill night air, a low whistle sounds behind you. Without looking, you decide to run, going further and further into the maze, not caring if you get lost now. But just as you see you've hit a dead end, you turn around, but Vyn is there, blocking the entrance.

Vyn stands in front of you, slowly approaching and twirling a decorative blade between his fingers. Even though you know he would never hurt you, there is a tantalising whisper of fear running up your spine, which is deliciously arousing.

'I found you,' he sing songs softly. In the moonlight, his eyes glint as he gets closer, the most delicious shade of honey gold. You love seeing him like this, like a cat who has gotten the cream, a mischievous boy reliving the childhood he never really got to have.

You consider making a dash for it, but he closes the distance and grips your wrists over your head tightly, breath skimming against your ear and neck as he whispers, 'Don't even try... I've hunted down my prey and I intend on enjoying every single moment...'

He turns you around and secures your wrists to a branch with his abandoned bowtie, manoeuvring expertly around your hooped skirts to run his hands up your bodice and corset, slicing open the corset ribbons and stripping your layers back. Standing there, unable to move, you feel especially vulnerable, feeling the cool metal of the blade just barely grazing your skin. Under his careful unwrapping, you are soon completely naked, bared to the moonlight.

'What a marvellous birthday present,' he whispers against your skin, pressing soft kisses throughout your back. 'Thank you.'

You can hear other people have entered the maze, laughing drunkenly from some distance away. Vyn sees you notice them, and chuckles in a low voice. 'You didn't manage to find the heart of the maze so you're all mine. If I choose to let anyone else watch me fuck you, then you can't do anything about it.'

'Pretty words,' you retort, squirming at the feeling of his gloved hands running over your body, squeezing at your tits, ghosting over your thighs, flicking at your clit. 'I bet if anyone actually dared to come over, you would have their head cut off or something.'

He growls at the thought and bites down hard on your neck, definitely leaving a bruise there. 'You're not wrong.'

Vyn pulls away and you whine at the lack of contact, turning around to see what he's up to, but without any warning, he lines his throbbing cock up with your entrance and thrusts up into you, making you cry out in surprise.

The pace he's taking is breathless, cock sliding out fully before slamming into you, setting a desperate pace like he's trying to punish you, forcing small cries from your throat. You are pressed up tightly against the hedge, pain mingling with pleasure, twigs and branches scratching at your delicate skin, feeling like a thousand hands clawing at you, which somehow is a huge turn on.

'That's it,' Vyn purrs. 'Make those beautiful noises for me, darling. I want everyone to hear you.'

You try to bite your tongue just to defy him, but then he grabs your breasts in each hand, forcing you against him and bending your back impossibly as he fucks you fast and hard. Your nipples are in his clever fingers, and he is playing with them in the way that makes you want to scream, because it feels too good, and you are terribly overstimulated from everything. You squirm relentlessly on his cock and you hear him pant shallowly, quietly whispering about how wonderful you are over and over again under his breath, hips thrusting into you endlessly.

You're not content with letting him have his way completely, so you turn your head around to look at his face, which is dark with desire, completely focused on every single sensation as if he's a beast and you're his prey.

'Is that all you've got?' You challenge him.

Upon hearing that, he growls and stops to untie your hands, looking to punish you even further, but the moment you are free you tackle him onto the ground, knocking all the air out of his lungs and mounting him. His face is surprised, but he doesn't resist, and this time it's your turn to pin his arms above his head with his own bowtie as he watches you hungrily, not resisting although you know he could easily break free of your sloppy knots, wanting to see what you do next. It's a strange sight – you are completely nude, having been stripped so thoroughly by Vyn earlier, but he is almost fully clothed. It almost makes you feel like a wild woman who has hunted down her prey and is ready to enjoy the spoils.

You slide down onto his cock, relishing the feeling of fucking outdoors – being fucked from behind always feels so animalistic, but being on top tonight drives you wild, and you lift yourself off his cock and plunge back down, watching Vyn bite his lip and watch you move up and down, your breasts bouncing with every thrust, your thighs burning with exertion. 'Nghh-' you moan, feeling him hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you. 'I love watching you like this,' you tease him breathlessly. 'Helpless beneath me, completely at my mercy...' You grind your hips in a circular motion, drawing your lovemaking out.

There are more voices approaching, they seem to be getting closer, but you're quite sure that they aren't about to find you anytime soon. Cries of pleasure ring out from other corners of the maze, other lovers having found secret spots to release their desires. You see Vyn's eyes glint as you tease him, a smile on the corner of his lips, rising to the challenge. He shifts his feet upwards, thighs grazing your buttocks, and you are just about to ask him what kind of tricks he's trying when his hips thrust upwards, sending you bouncing upwards, and seeing stars from how deeply his cock is buried inside you.

'I can hardly let my prey get away with everything,' Vyn bites down, cock ramming into you, leaving you breathless and begging him to slow down.

'Ah - Vyn - Ah - ah - mmmh!' You cry out, as he drives faster and faster, not letting you gather yourself for a single moment, thrusting so hard that you lose your balance and are pressed against him, hands scrabbling for purchase in the soil as he just uses you mercilessly, chasing his own release while pushing you closer and closer off the edge. 'Ready to scream for our audience?' He chuckles in a low voice. A pair of voices comes so close that you swear they are about to turn the corner, and the thought of getting caught is so deliciously tantalising that Vyn just has to thrust a few more times before you come undone around his cock, trying to stifle your cries in his neck, clenching and throbbing so hard that you see flashes at the side of your vision.

Vyn speeds up for his last few thrusts, and he whispers how good you are, how amazing your cunt feels around his cock, about how much he loves you, and surely you have another one in there for him, he wants to feel you come again. He has freed his own hands and one now snakes down to your clit, the other tearing your hand away from your mouth - 'Don't you dare hold back, I want everyone to hear that you're mine.' He rubs your clit as his cock grows and throbs inside your cunt and that pushes you over the edge again, crying out in earnest this time - 'Fuck yes, Vyn - oh!' and Vyn cums with a guttural groan, growling deeply and squeezing his eyes in pleasure.

The voices trail off, giggling to themselves. There is no way that they didn't hear their lovemaking, but also the hedges are so thick that they couldn't possibly have seen who it was. You collapse onto Vyn, and he embraces you in his arms, both of you panting heavily. He gives you his jacket, and drags over the remains of your dress to keep you warm. 'It would be a shame if you caught a cold,' he says. 'I would feel rather responsible.' You giggle against his chest, buried in layers of silk and tulle. You both look up at the sky, watching the stars and feeling so lucky to be in love.

[starfellforyou]

imperfect for you ✧⋆｡˚

❛ ༉‧₊˚ featuring: neuvillette x treasure hoarder!reader

❛ ༉‧₊˚ premise: the iudex of fontaine is renowned for his impartiality, objectivity, and unwavering principles. he resolves the court’s cases with precision, wielding a sharp blade of virtue against any misconduct that arises before him. but when a pesky treasure hoarder with a crude tongue and an eye for jewels crosses his path, she threatens to obliterate everything he’s ever stood for…

❛ ༉‧₊˚ genres: fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, class divide

❛ ༉‧₊˚ word count: 4k+

♪ imperfect for you - ariana grande (slowed + reverb)

Sometimes, to make a living, you’ve got to get your hands a little dirty.

I would know. The life of a Treasure Hoarder, to the disagreement of many, is no easy feat. I’m not going to act like it’s a righteous path, but it’s the only path for the likes of me; and unlike my fellow bandits, I don’t burn my cash nearly as quickly as they do.

Fontaine is like an open treasure chest, full of twinkling gems and glittering jewels, a realm of luxury and riches. I normally sneak slices of warm bread into my satchel. But I’m tired of always struggling to get by. I’m sick of making ends meet when I could be weaving a tapestry of opulent threads.

I want to steal something bigger. Brighter. Feed my brothers and sisters without having to worry about warm bread.

I hear the Court of Fontaine is stocking up on a sackful of precious goods from all over the nation - and I intend to get my hands on them.

…

Sneaking into the court was surprisingly easy. All I had to do was put on an old hat and pretend I’d been sent to deliver the week’s paper.

“I’m here to collect a stack of news, sir.” I tip my hat politely, a paragon of manners and humility.

And just like that, I’m in. This isn’t my first time breaking into the court; after all, it’s terribly troublesome for non-aristocrats to find themselves welcome in a high-society breeding ground like this one.

I stroll down the frilly lanes of Quartier Narbonnais, taking my time to avoid suspicion. Parasols and silky dresses line the streets, hushed chatter and gossip filling the air like the incessant chips of Bluecrown Finches. Something to the left catches my eye.

It’s a child standing on the tips of his toes, arms outstretched towards a small roll of sapphire-blue ribbon on a tall wooden shelf. I realize I’m standing in front of the Chioriya Boutique. Huh. Such beautiful dresses… The boy’s clothes are slightly tattered, his skin marked with dirt. My heart pangs with sympathy at the thought that this child is just like my little brother; anxious, alone, and with nothing to his name.

I point a finger towards the bushes next to the shop and shout, “Look! Over there!”

The ladies looming nearby gasp with curiosity, craning their necks to get a good look of whatever it is that’s caught my eager attention. I yank the roll of ribbon off the shelf without making a sound, a devious act that only one with years of practice could master. her 

Handing it to the boy, I ask him what he needs it for and pull him to the side.

“My sister’s dress is missing a blue ribbon. I figured I’d find her a replacement…” He trails off, uneasy. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any money to pay you, mademoiselle…”

“Consider it a favor.” I pause. “You owe me one, that’s all.”

The boy nods, his adorable features lighting up. I ruffle his hair and tell him to scurry off.

“Make sure you don’t get caught, little one!”

“Caught doing what, exactly, young lady?”

A deep, commanding voice speaks from a few feet behind, startling me - though I do not show it.

I turn to face the man in a relaxed, casual manner. His face surprises me even more than his voice does. He’s an elegant, poised man, tall and intimidating, yet not in a bad way. He does reek of sophistication, nevertheless. I curse myself for being so careless. What are you, an amateur?

“Why, by his sister, of course! Children these days, always running about.” I chuckle for effect.

It doesn’t seem to faze him.

“I have reason to believe you have stolen something from this establishment, miss. I’ll have my officers take you in for further questioning immediately.”

What a jerk! I can hardly believe such cold-hearted individuals exist. I glance over his fanciful robes and twinkling accessories with disdain, remembering exactly why I proclaim law enforcement in Teyvat to be a terribly corrupt system run by frauds. I need to think fast if I want to make it back out of the court alive.

Criminals like me have no place in a respectable region like this.

“Of course, my lord. I will obey your orders without a word of complaint.” I bow to him despite myself.

“Very well then. Come with me.” He starts forward, footsteps strong and chin held high. “You must be from the villa–”

I’ve snuck behind the nearest bush and climbed up a wall, as swift and soundless as ever. Watching from above, I giggle at the officer’s notable confusion.

“Show yourself!” He shouts, eyes frantically searching his surroundings but to no avail. Clearly frustrated, he curses under his breath, attracting the attention of the ladies nearby, who swoon once they meet his gaze.

“My apologies.” He mutters under his breath, eyebrows knitted together in a scowl.

He storms off into the crowd.

…

It isn't until I return to base that I realize that was no ordinary officer. The way he was dressed, the power in his voice when he spoke to me… It all seemed very peculiar.

“The Iudex. You spoke to the Iudex of Fontaine. There’s no way.” My younger sister seems to be in a state of shock.

“The Chief Justice? Nahhh. It couldn’t have been him. I mean, what’s he doing next to a women’s boutique?”

“Based on your descriptions, I think it’s safe to say that it really was him. I have heard that he enjoys strolling amongst the locals.”

I have a hard time believing it all. Indeed, my sister has always been the most well-read of us, but surely if I’d come face to face with the Iudex of Fontaine himself, I’d have known, right?

It all just seems absurd.

But I guess anything is possible in the Land of Justice. Now that I’ve found myself on the Chief Justice’s radar, it would benefit me to be more careful with my thieving endeavors in the court.

A minor inconvenience isn’t going to stop me now.

…

In an ornate, oversized office, Neuvillette sits by the fireplace, pondering.

He’s infuriated that someone dared defy his word in his presence. He’s puzzled about the thief’s identity, her next move. Most passionately of all, he feels foolish.

Utterly ashamed that he let a young woman escape with her pride right under his nose.

He calls out for a servant. “Have a Melusine troop assembled by tomorrow morning. I must catch this thief if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Of course, sire.” The servant hesitates, unsure. “Don’t mind my prying, sire, but this girl seems like nothing more than a petty thief. Why are you so hung up on bringing her in?”

Neuvillette rests his head on a gloved hand, elbow propped up on his polished spruce-wood desk.

“Because no one… escapes from the law.”

…

No one, of course, but me.

I spent the next two weeks stealing all sorts of interesting artifacts from within the court, some that sparkle and some that whir. With the money I’ve been bringing in, my siblings are finally able to have meals that contain more than just mushrooms and a few slices of bread.

Multiple times a member of the Iudex’s troop - occasionally the Iudex himself - managed to catch me, but each and every time I got out unscathed. I think I enjoy this life of crime.

Or rather, I enjoy the look on his face when he realizes I’ve slithered out of his reaches. The thrill of coming this close to facing him again, each and every time.

I received word that a masquerade ball is being hosted at the Vasari Passage tomorrow night, and that many fine ladies and gentlemen of society will be there. Naturally, I decide that my next cause of action is to “borrow” a pretty ball gown for my grand entrance.

I choose the most exquisite of gowns from the shop’s dusty attic - a rich purple shade to match my eyes - and brace myself for a possible run-in with the Iudex. I can’t risk him capturing me again. There’s no way he’d still recognise me. It’s been ages. Besides, I’m sure he has other bandits on his list.

…

The ball is an extravagant affair; I’ve never seen this much Hydro in one place - on land, of course. I have to admit, it really is quite enchanting.

Throughout the evening, I’m careful not to expose my face. I must be the most wanted petty criminal in Fontaine. In the unlikely event that anyone should identify me as the thief that’s been stealing their goods, it would only mean more trouble for me. With grace and finesse I whisk through the crowds, yanking one pearl necklace after another from the necks of oblivious aristocrats, stashing my finds safely away in the pocket strapped to my leg.

Just as I’ve gotten my hands on a marvelous emerald bracelet, I bump into someone I didn’t notice was standing right in front of me. As I recover, I’m struck with the familiar sight of flowing sapphire robes, a head of long hair as pristine and pure as snow. Oh, Archons.

Before I can even begin to protest, he grabs me by the waist with a firm hand and pulls me into a back garden, far enough away from the bustle of the ball. A glowing waterfall splashes gently to my left, and a couple dozen fireflies light up the Romaritime bushes that surround us.

I watch him carefully as he flexes his jaw. Though his face is partly concealed by a mask, I can tell he’s been driven mad with contempt - no, irritation. He’s been waiting a long time for this moment.

“It’s you.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure, my lord?”

“Enough of your games.” He spits out the words as if they’re poison on his tongue. “You cannot run forever. I know people like you well. It never ends well for them, running from the law.”

This pisses me off.

“Because the law protects the high and mighty, like you. Like the people out there. There’s no room in the law for people like me. Those who have to fight to survive. Those who can’t find work. Those who can’t put food on the table without stealing it.”

I watch as he falls silent, seemingly at a loss for words.

“What you are doing, while worthy of sympathy, is still illegal. It is my duty as Iudex to uphold the law and bring justice to all.”

“What about my family? What justice do they receive then, you bastard?”

He seems taken aback by my choice of words, a small frown written across his brows. Did I just insult the Chief Justice? I try to think of a way out of this situation; it’s gotten far too messy for my liking.

But a part of me doesn’t want to leave him here. This game we're playing - it excites me. Sometimes, it feels as though he lets me go on purpose. And while I do credit myself for being an excellent thief, I can’t help but feel as if I’ve gotten myself entangled with the law in more ways than one.

“I must take you in immediately. You will return all of the items you’ve stolen, precious or not. Fontaine is no place for such thie–”

I take a step forward and kiss him on the cheek.

Just a peck; a gentle act of intimacy that lasts no longer than a second. It shocks me as much as it does him, and I swear that beneath his mask, I can see his cheekbones flush a deep crimson red.

“P-Pardon me, my lord.” I take the opportunity to flee, leaving whatever just happened in the garden behind me.

He must’ve been too disgusted to follow me.

…

The following days passed with little to no thievery. I couldn’t explain it, but a part of me felt… guilty, for the first time in my life. Maybe not for stealing all those things from the hands of the wealthy, but for kissing him the way I did, in an attempt to save my own ass.

But that was the tricky part; did I really kiss him just to save my own ass?

I shake my head, desperate to prevent these frightening thoughts from clouding my judgment. I still have a family to feed.

I’m just about to sneak a sack of berries into my satchel when I feel his presence wash over me, watching me. I spin around to survey my surroundings, and sure enough, there he is. The Iudex in all of his dignified glory - staring at me from across the street. I return the sack to its position in the pile and walk over to him, my footsteps light and quick.

“I didn’t steal.”

“You would have.”

“But I didn’t.”

He sighs, exasperated. “I have been lenient to you. Whether or not you agree, I have shown you kindness by not exacting harsher measures in response to your… intemperance.”

I suppose that is true, especially after what I pulled that night. I remain silent.

“And despite every fiber of my being telling me to put you behind bars this instant, I wish to ask you a few questions before I do so.”

“And what’s in it for me, wise-ass?”

If he’s offended, he’s doing a great job concealing it. “I’ve called off the search. And, you’ll get to ask a few questions of me.” He tilts his head cautiously.. “Something tells me you would find that most enticing.”

He’s right. I hate that he’s right.

“Fine. Shall we head to somewhere more private, my lord?”

…

For some reason, he brings me to his office in the Palais Mermonia. We enter through a secret entrance hidden from the public eye, and manage to remain unseen. He’s very serious about keeping our arrangement confidential.

The building is lavishly decorated, its shiny walls a reflection of its equally shiny inhabitants. At every turn I’m awed by the sheer magnificence of it all; by how I’m likely to never set foot in a place like this again.

“Please, have a seat.” His voice is low. He almost looks uncomfortable.

“So. What’d you wanna ask me?” I lift both feet and rest them atop his desk, crossing my right leg over the left. This is my first and last time in a room as cushy as this one, after all - I might as well make myself at home. “If you don't mind, I’d like you to answer my questions before I answer yours.”

He doesn’t object. I continue, “Why are you so unwilling to turn a blind eye to a few measly scoundrels? The people they’re stealing from already have far too much - and yet, you are complicit with their greed.”

There’s a distant look in his eyes. “Ever since I’d been issued the position of Iudex, there’s been an immeasurable… weight on my back. To uphold the law, standards of safety, fairness… That has been my job for as long as I can remember. I have dedicated my life to ensuring that Fontaine is the splitting image of perfection.”

“You speak as if you are old.” I scoff, feigning sophistication in my voice. “You’re a young man yourself. Shouldn’t you, of all people, understand that achieving perfection is impossible? Not when there is so much filth and corruption manifesting beneath the surface?”

My words seem to have struck him. “...I suppose there is truth to your words.”

“So stop. Let me and my people live as we have been. We don’t go around attacking the rich unprovoked, you know, despite what most people think.”

We share a pleasant silence for a moment. It feels as if I’m getting to him; as if we’re beginning to really see each other.

“You really do have the most exquisite eyes.”

This takes me by surprise. Did the Chief Justice of Fontaine just compliment my eyes? I try to suppress the redness growing across my cheeks.

He speaks again, his unfaltering gaze fixed on mine. “I never quite got your name, Miss…”

“Y/N,” I answer hastily. “And, you are…?”

“Neuvillette. My given name.”

Neuvillette. It’s never occurred to me how much I don’t know about the affairs of the city. About him.

“I have another question, Neuvillette.” He nods. “Why are you so intent on bringing me in? Are there no other criminals in Fontaine that demand more pressing attention?” I push further. “And why are you talking to me now, rather than locking me up?”

He looks speechless, as if troubled by something. “Because…” My heart stutters as I anticipate what he’s about to say. “Because I have something to ask of you.”

I deflate. “Oh. What is it?”

“I’m willing to offer you a job - an esteemed position in the Maison Gardiennage. You’d be an excellent addition to the team, and you won’t have to worry about a single piece of Mora from now on–”

My heart stops stuttering. It sinks. “So that’s what this is about.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You pity me. This whole time–you’ve been trying to recruit me for your–your–battalion! To use me!” I feel betrayed. Blindsided. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid.

I rush to stand up, and he gets up just as quick. “I assure you, that is not my intention, Miss Y/N–”

“You just want me taken care of so I can stop stealing and you can go back to your precious duties.” And to think that maybe we shared something. “I thought you were different. I really did. Now I see I was mistaken.”

“Miss Y/N, you must not keep stealing.” He sounds desperate, as if about to lose the composure he so carefully maintains.

I can’t do this. I swing the door to the hallway open, fuming. “You call us Treasure Hoarders, but you fail to realize that the ones who hoard treasure are yourselves.”

I spin around one final time, taking in the sight of him. He’s standing less than an inch away from me now. I notice that it physically pains me to be this close to him. “I hope I’m not spotted, for your sake. Archons forbid what being seen with me might do to your reputation.”

I slam the door behind me.

…

For the first time, Neuvillette doesn’t have a solution for any of this. He can’t let her keep stealing, that’s for sure. But is that really all that’s troubling him? Is that the real reason why he’s so worked up about all of this?

He swats at an invisible thought in the air. Focus. A royal auction is to be held tomorrow evening, and there’s a lot to be done.

…

I can’t bear to stay in the court for much longer. Everything is just… too much.

If I am to stop stealing in the court, all while ensuring that my family is fed and happy, I’ll have to end my business here with a bang. Steal something truly valuable that’ll guarantee I’ll never have to steal again.

Therefore, when I receive news of the Annual Court Auction being held the following day, I can hardly contain my anticipation.

This will be the heist of all heists. My family’s lives are on the line.

I must sneak in unnoticed, snag the one-of-a-kind Hunter’s Brooch from wherever it is backstage, and sneak back out where I came from. Make sure I avoid running into Neuvillette, at all costs.

…

As the clock strikes six, the auction begins. A dense crowd fills the ballroom, the stench of elitism wafting through the air.

I managed to steal a servant’s uniform while he was distracted and put on my disguise, determined to get the job done once and for all. As I pretend to refill my tray, I listen closely as the auctioneer projects his booming voice. “Going once, going twice… SOLD to the lady in pink!”

The Hunter’s Brooch is up next. I glide through the crowd, offering tiny pastries and shot glasses to the haughty noblemen as I pass.

“Next up: the Hunter’s Brooch!” The crowd oohs and aahs, captivated by its remarkable beauty. “Do I hear one-million?”

I inch closer and closer to the stage as bidders furiously compete with one another for the brooch. I hear numbers I have never heard in my life.

“Do I hear fifteen-million? Going once, going twice…” The crowd falls silent, seemingly bested.

“Twenty-million.”

My head whips around so fast I almost drop my tray. Neuvillette.

“SOLD to our Chief Justice!”

I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. Seeing him from afar is somehow a thousand times worse than seeing him up close.

I remind myself what I came here for. I attempt to ignore the pounding in my chest and sneak past the guards in front of the stage. There it is.

The brooch sits on a cushioned plinth backstage, sparkling despite the darkness. I yank it from its display in the blink of an eye and stuff it into my satchel. Hugging it under my arm, I latch on to the wall behind the stage and begin climbing towards the landing on the second floor.

Just as I reach the surface, I pick up a swarm of hurried footsteps headed in my direction. I try to steady myself as hastily as possible, but by the time I look up, it’s too late.

Guards.

They grab me by the arms and pull me away from the auction. From my grand plan. From my dreams of never having to steal again.

…

A trial. I’m to sit in front of the Iudex tonight and face him for the first time in days. I’m to relive the embarrassment of getting caught, of encountering my first defeat. I’m to look him in the eye as he finally decides to throw me in jail for good.

Time passes rather quickly in a holding cell, contrary to popular belief. Before I know it, I’m sitting in a courtroom, anxiously waiting for the Iudex to walk in.

My pulse quickens when the thick ivory doors swing open.

He remains the paradigm of grace and regality; able to command an entire room without ever so much as uttering a word.

Despite all the guilt, all the shame I’m feeling sitting in this chair, I can’t seem to take my eyes off him.

He moves to take his seat on the elevated throne in the middle of the room, and for a moment - just a tiny sliver of a second - we lock eyes. He looks conflicted, tired, as if he hadn’t slept a wink last night.

The trial proceeded as one normally would; everyone was represented by someone, though the loaded old man I’d stolen from had obviously hired a greater amount of skill.

It’s now time for the final judgment to be made.

The Iudex’s eyes are downcast, his forehead creased. His gloved hands seem to be restless and unsure. Please, Neuvillette. Don’t do this.

A pause that stretches on for an eternity passes, and he whispers something unintelligible to the court orderly standing next to him. A bewildered expression appears on the orderly’s face, but Neuvillette has already gotten up to exit, halting all further questions.

He charges out of the courtroom, leaving hushed exclamations and gasps of surprise in his wake. Neuvillette… Did you betray me? We all look to the court orderly.

“The Chief Justice of Fontaine has declared the defendant… not guilty.”

…

“So does that mean you’re free to go now?”

“Yep.” I smile at my sister with a sigh. “I’m never going back there again.”

“What? Why not? I thought you said the city was our golden opportunity.”

“It was. But I’ve come to realize that I can’t keep stealing from the hand that feeds me. It’s too much. It’s not… fair.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my sister?” She wriggles her eyebrows at me.

I give her a hard nudge, playfully. “There are other prospects, you know. I heard Liyue possesses treasures beyond even our wildest dreams. We shall aim to relocate by the end of the month.”

“Not yet done with your scheming, Miss Y/N?”

No. It can’t be.

I jump to my feet so quickly my sister flinches. “Hey, could you maybe…”

She runs off towards the camp, leaving the two of us standing face to face atop the most beautiful hill in the region.

“I wasn’t expecting you.” My voice comes out shaky, as if I haven’t spoken in years.

Neuvillette searches my eyes, vulnerable and sincere. “Did you really think you could hide from me for long?”

Inhale. Exhale. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you lock me up? Why come all the way here after two weeks?”

“You must know…” He trails off, stares at the setting sun just above the horizon. “My every waking moment is plagued by thoughts of… of you.”

I stop breathing.

“At night, I dream of you. The criminal I cannot seem to capture. The thief I cannot seem to subdue.” He takes a step forward. “Your words echo in my mind, your eyes pierce my soul. Your insolence, obscenity, rebelliousness… All of it. It-It vexes me.” Another step. “You are a thief, Y/N, for you have stolen more than just precious gems and sparkling jewels.”

I’m rendered speechless. All I want to do is run into his arms.

“Please. Don’t leave. I beg of you.”

My heart feels so… so full. I rush to close the distance between us, beaming so widely it must look strange.

“Only if you promise to let me keep stealing your stuff.”

He rolls his eyes. “Your wish is my command. I suppose it will do the nation some good if all of its inhabitants remain healthy and fed.” I smile. “You’ve made up your mind, then? No law enforcement work for you?”

“Actually… I’ve yet to give it any thought. You sure you’d want a Treasure Hoarder amongst your ranks?”

“You make a good point. But right now…” He’s staring again, lips mere inches away from mine. “All I want… is you.”

“But my lord, surely that’s against the law,” I tease.

“The law has no place here.”

And he kisses me, hungry and passionate.

For the first time in ages, I finally feel well off.

❛ ༉‧₊˚ author's note: i had to stop myself from writing a commentary on class divide and remember i'm in love with neuvillette lol (two things can be true at once) hope you like this one! typically this would've been a multiple-chapter fic on ao3 but oh well here goes nothing

✧ starfellforyou

[bbcphile]

WIP Wednesday

Happy Wednesday! Have some more of FDB's POV! They're finally out of the tree, FDB is still carrying an injured and exhausted DFS on his back, and he is currently trying to convince DFS (who is fighting to stay conscious) to let himself rest. (You can find all previous excerpts here.)

**

Fang Duobing smiled. At last, something he could do. “Alright, a-Fei. Home it is.”

For a moment, a-Fei relaxed even more against him. 

Then a-Fei stilled, all his muscles spasmed and clenched, and he jerked his head off Fang Duobing with a pained grunt, looking all around them.

“What’s wrong?” Fang Duobing asked, suddenly terrified. “Another qi deviation? An attacker? Do you need me to put you down? Or Yangzhouman?”

The ensuing silence seemed to last forever, although it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.  

“Home,” a-Fei said, his voice so wrecked it sounded like his throat had been sliced to ribbons. “To the left.” He swallowed audibly and tried again. “Around the hill.” 

Fang Duobing wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream, cry, shake a-Fei, or hold him tightly and never let go more. “It’s alright. We’ll find the way. I promise. Just rest. Try to sleep.”

Even as a-Fei shook his head, he was slumping forward. “Not yet,” he muttered. “Not here.” 

What was wrong with here? It was just a forest—

Oh. Fang Duobing winced. A-Fei had been unconscious in a forest after being cured of Wuxin Huai when Jiao Liqiao had kidnapped him the first time. 

“A-Fei,” Fang Duobing paused, trying to figure out what might convince him. “There are no enemies here. No danger. You can stop fighting now.”

A-Fei’s hair brushed against Fang Duobing’s shoulder as he shook his head again.“—’s always danger,” he mumbled. His head fell forward and landed on Fang Duobing’s neck again. He tried and failed to lift it again, then made a sound that was far too close to a whimper. 

Fang Duobing tried to breathe through the sudden, visceral need to travel to the past and make everyone who had ever hurt a-Fei and made safety a foreign concept wish they had never been born. “If we run into any danger, I’ll protect you, alright?”

A-Fei huffed a wet attempt at a laugh into his hair and his head twitched like he was trying and failing to shake it. “–’s my job, brat.”

Fang Duobing’s heart clenched as hundreds of proclamations tried to burst out from behind his closed lips: that a-Fei was in no shape to protect anyone at the moment, that protecting each other was all of their jobs and did a-Fei really think that his protection was all he had to offer? He was a person, not a dao! That a-Fei deserved to be protected, that a-Fei was protected now, and would continue to be as long as he, Fang Duobing, drew breath, and that no one would ever be able to harm him again. 

He swallowed them all back and tried to find an approach less liable to end in disaster. “It’s my job, too, a-Fei,” he said at last. “We can take turns, just like we’ve taken turns looking after Xiaohua’er. You already protected me, by helping with my qinggong. So now it’s my turn for a bit, alright?” He held his breath, hoping his words would convince a-Fei to stop fighting the pull of exhaustion, would let a-Fei’s clenched, shaking muscles lay down their tension. 

Nothing changed, although judging by the way a-Fei’s face rustled in his hair, a-Fei had rolled his eyes and raised a skeptical eyebrow, despite the pain and energy expenditure.

Well, there was one thing he hadn’t yet tried. And since a-Fei had thought that praising his qinggong was akin to rewarding Huli Jing’s new tricks with treats, then turn-about was fair play. Now, what precisely had a-Fei said? Ah, yes. “A-Fei?” He waited for a tired hum in response. “You did well, too. Good job. So rest, now, alright? As a reward.” 

A short pause. Then a-Fei’s faint, barely-there huff of amusement tickled the skin on the back of his neck. “–t’s not a new trick,” he said, so quietly Fang Duobing had to strain to hear it.

Fang Duobing smiled sadly and shook his head. Trust a-Fei to find a way to praise his own skills while barely conscious. And simultaneously to refuse to celebrate or rest. “I know. You always do well. You’ve had to. But you’re not alone anymore: you have us. And I know I’m not Xiaohua’er, and you don’t trust me like you trust him. But I promise, I will bring you to him and I won’t let anything get in the way. You’re safe, a-Fei. You can let go now, ok?”

There was a long pause. So long Fang Duobing wondered if he’d actually already lost consciousness.

A-Fei’s finger twitched, then gave Fang Duobing’s collarbone one last, faint tap.

Then a-Fei slumped against his back like a sack of rice. 

Fang Duobing closed his eyes, took a slow, deep breath, letting the crisp scent of the forest sink into his lungs and ground him until he felt less like he was about to cry or shake apart.

Huli Jing whined loudly, then nosed at Fang Duobing’s leg.

“I know,” Fang Duobing said. He swallowed, hiked a-Fei up higher on his back, and took a deep breath. “Lead us home, girl.”

Huli Jing took off, to the left, and around the hill.

Fang Duobing raced after her.

[miharaikko]

My 2024 writing round up

Thank you for the tags to @firenati0n @0npurpose @sophie1973 @clockwrkpendrxgon @kj-bee

I started writing fic this year in May and managed to put out 21 pieces, 19 oneshots and 2 multi-chapters. I would have never imagined myself as a fic writer, considering I barely knew the concept a year ago, but here we are—brain rot so active and ideas overflowing 🤷‍♀️

I’m so thankful to all the people willing to give my little stories a chance. Thank you for all the kudos, comments and overall yelling on twitter and discord. 

And thank you to my Red Umbrella gang. Since meeting y'all in June my life has significantly improved 💕 Can’t wait to see what 2025 brings us! ✨

My AO3: miharaikko My fandom: Red, White & Royal Blue Number of fics posted: 21 Number of Words posted: 91,717

Breakdown under the cut.

MAY

Pearly Gates (M, 5K)  Alex sees Henry across the dance floor and is mesmerized by his ivory skin and the pearl top he is wearing.

JUNE

Love will abide (take things in stride) (E, 15K)  Henry should be getting married tomorrow. Instead, he's at a pub, considering if he should go back to the hotel of a man he just met.

JULY

waging my wars behind my face and above my throat (M, 3K) Henry is having a bad day and Alex helps him through it (part I)

AUGUST

I was already on my way (GA, 1.1K) Henry is having a bad day and Alex helps him through it (part II)

SEPTEMBER

touch my phone (as if it’s your face) (GA, 5.3K) Alex texts the wrong number. It turns out to be the right one in the end.

just you and I (GA, 1K) Slices of life, inspired by Tom Odell's Grow Old with Me

OCTOBER

In the heart of Wales (Yng nghalon Cymru) (GA, 2.8K) Alex and Henry get lost in the heart of Wales

only thing on my grocery list (is your lips) (GA, 2.2K) Henry keeps visiting his local market and trying out new recipes, all for the sake of a cute vendor

more than a game to play (the truth is on my tongue) (E, 2.5K) Being friends with benefits shouldn't matter. But when Henry gets jealous, it starts to matter.

I was cold as a stone (but I found what I'm lookin' for) (GA, 2.6K) Henry retreats to a cabin in the woods for some peace and quiet, but he also finds something else there.

all eyes on you, my magician (all eyes on us) (GA, 3.8K) - collab with tothemoon_andsaturn Henry is a magician, but he is falling under the spell of Alex.

three words, infinite possibilities (GA, 1.8K) Alex figures out that his feelings for Henry are more than he thought.

a beagle's guide to finding love (GA, 5.7K) When David feels like henry could use a new friend, he takes the matter into his own paws.

pink silk ribbon kinky thingy (E, 7.2K) Alex finds a spool of silk ribbon which makes him feels things. Henry helps him process those feelings.

NOVEMBER

saturday night love (GA, 1.3K) A-list actor Henry decides to come out during an SNL sketch. Alex is the SNL regular who gets to kiss him during it.

DECEMBER

Spotify Wrapped - a Series of Unserious Drabbles (M, 2.7K) writings based on my 2024 Spotify Wrapped

a beautiful sight, we're happy tonight (M, 2.8K) - collab with tothemoon_andsaturn Henry takes Alex to visit Wales. The lack of snow doesn't stop Alex from transforming the day into a winter Wonderland.

but if you’re leaving, I gotta know why (M, 4K) Alex overhears a conversation between Henry and Bea and realizes there's a lot more things that he feels for his roommate.

...for so long (M, 6.2K)â Henry is tasked with baking gingerbread and he gets a helping hand from a friend

both your hands (in the holes of my sweater) (M, 6.4K) Henry and Alex lend each other certain clothes items over the years

s'mores (let me taste you some more) (E, 8.8K) Stuck in a cabin due to a storm, Alex and Henry only have marshmallows, crackers and chocolate as supplies. They make the best of it, while also tending to some old wounds.

WIPs & UPCOMING FICS

I've been yapping about these 3 since the moment they each came to mind, but with the collections I took part in, and other smaller ideas that never let my mind, I haven't been able to finish them. But my goal for 2025 is to bring these 3 babies to the world:

Red Wine and Royal Bleu Cheese - vaguely established plot, where Alex visits a winery where he meets Henry

Clay your love on me - Alex is a TikTok potter and Henry is a fan of his live videos

no title yet, but this will be my multi-chaptered Magnum Opus once I manage to write it, based on the following prompt: Friends with benefits (they share a house to split the rent) with detriments (they used to date but broke up for self-sabotaging reasons) with perks (sometimes they spend the night together. it’s fine) with troubles (one of them is moving away. it feels worse than the breakup)

And I also have an upcoming fic for the Wrap It Up exchange.

[lil-ms-darkness]

Mourning Bundt Cake - Bigby Wolf x Fem! Goldilocks! Reader [Part Six]

A/N: Hello, my lovelies. Here is the next part of the story. Sorry for the delay, but I hope you enjoy this part.

-𝕷𝖎𝖑 𝕸𝖘 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘 🥀

The light cut through the canopy of trees like Charming’s sword, speckling the forest floor with radiant sun rays, illuminating brilliant foliage. His footsteps land heavy, the rhythmic thump of the ax handle against his belt comforting his steps. He runs a hand through his beard, trying to recall the last time he’d been through this part of the woods. Had it been two centuries? Four? 

He lowers his gaze to the leaves beneath his hefty boots, scouting the path ahead when his footfalls still, eyes lingering on the sloppily tied snare trap barely covered by soggy, rotten leaves. He steps around it, raising an inquisitive brow when his foot dips past the forest floor. He slaps his hands against the lip of the chasm with a howl, nails biting into the dirt and gnarled tree roots that barely reach the far edge of the hole. He kicks the toes of his boots against the wall of the hole, chipping away at the dirt until he can rest his foot in the new alcove, readjusting his fingers to pull himself up. Hoisting his weight back onto solid ground, he shambles to his feet, panting and wiping sweat from his naked forehead. A shadow darts through the trees to his left and, rage bubbling to the surface, he snatches the ax from his belt, giving chase. 

The shadow is small, quick, and lythe, but his long strides easily close the distance and, in the end, he swings his mighty ax, stopping just barely in time before the gleaming blade slices through the tender flesh of their throat to the tree behind them, keeping them pinned between the trunk and the blade. A thin ribbon of blood coats the length of the blade and the rest slips down their deep set collarbones. He takes  a moment to catch his breath and examines the face of the shadow. A young girl, no more than 8, with a filthy face, hungry, frightened eyes and mattes of sunlight clung to her head. He considers pulling the blade away, and only after a moment does he do so, only to replace it with the toe of his ax, instead. She swallows and bares her teeth in pain and fright. 

“Who are you?” he grits out.

She coughs and examines him, “Goldilocks. . .” her voice is a rasp of syllables

“Why did you try to knock me into a pit, Goldilocks?” he pushes the toe of the ax closer into her skin. She may look like a child, but the Homelands are full of tricks and puppetry. While he might be a fool, he isn’t foolish. Wait, that’s not how that saying goes, is it?

“Not for you. For food. And bad people. Are you bad?”

He blinks at her, and leans in close, “don’t move, or I’ll cut you down before you can get two steps away.” he lowers his ax, slotting it in his belt, and pulls out his waterskin, dumping a small amount onto his hand before wiping it across her face, the dirt spreading across her face and onto him. He swipes his hand across his shirt before spitting onto it, rather than waste more water, continuing to clean her face. She hisses and groans in disapproval, but he holds her in place with his other hand. She’s younger than she looked at first, maybe 6 or 7. “Where are your parents? Dead?”

“Mama never come back.” is all she says about it, “found a house and eated, the bunnies and birds don’t taste as yummy as the food there did. The bears chased me away.” 

He can feel a pressure form at his temple at her words. Kids can give him such a headache. 

“You said bad people, what kind of bad people?” 

“Mhmm, bad people with long pointy pokies. The pokies hurt.” she grumbles.

“Long pointy pokies? Do you mean swords?”

She only blinks owlishly at him, and he can only groan. He takes in her face, sunken in and pallid. 

“When did you eat last?”

“Mmmm…two days ago. M'tummy hurts.” 

He can hear a quiet snap somewhere to the East and he pushes her down into the shrubbery around the tree. She crouches down and looks up at him with wide eyes, her hand moving to cover her mouth. 

He crouches down and stalks towards the sound, finding a doe with her head bent, enjoying the grass below her. He sees her, and at first he moves to stand, but stops. ‘Two days ago’. He rolls his eyes and closes them before he lunges forward, plucking his ax from his belt quickly.

She hears the sound of slashing meat, the bawl of an animal, and the man from before grunting. Then, silence. Twigs snap and dehydrated leaves crunch moments later, heavy steps and she crouches further into the underbrush. Something pokes her and she jumps, looking up, but it’s the man from before, the wooden handle of his weapon being used to prod her and get her attention. On his shoulder, a large animal she could stuff her belly full of. Her mouth waters and she looks at him, questioningly. 

“For me?” 

“Let me show you how to cook this, at least. The skin can make a blanket. Or clothes, so you don’t freeze to death. After that, you’re on your own.” 

But that was a lie, even after he’d showed her how to skin and gut the animal, cook and use salt to preserve it, he helped her make a simple tunic and pants, enough of the pelt left over for a small blanket. He left that night, but she wasn’t on her own. He came back to that area the next day, then the following day, and then the day after. After a while, she began to look forward to his visits, her unexpected first friend, her mentor. He taught her to hunt properly, to wield an ax, to build a fire, and after she’d told him of finding large paw prints in the dirt around her dwelling, how to build a tree house high in the trees, above any predators. She didn’t know it at the time, but there was a danger much, much fiercer than those men with swords, much larger than the Woodsman and his ax, and much, much more hungry than she ever felt those two long days.

“[Y/N].”

She blinks and looks up from her clasped hands in her lap, deep earthy eyes greeting her. “I’m sorry, I-” a heavy pale hand, a body stuffed behind a dumpster, violent slashes across his chest. “Keep-keep going, please.” 

“You should be going home to rest, not being interrogated!” Holly barks from the pool table, fists clenched as she looks between [Y/N] sitting stiff in her wooden chair, eyes far away and lost, Bigby sitting across from her in his own seat, more relaxed but focused.

“The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can do just that.” [Y/N] says, voice trembling and quiet. She looks up at Bigby, “please, can you repeat your question?”

“Did you see anyone when you found the body?”

She wipes her eyes with her fingertips, “No-no, I didn’t. It was dark, and I wasn’t really paying attention, I was lost in thought and tripped, I turned around to look and…and I…”

“I know,” he murmurs. She lifts her still watering eyes to his. “I’m going to go look at the body, I need you to stay here just in case I need to ask anything else.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Gren yells from his place against the wall behind [Y/N], and Bigby looks over her at him, “She’s in mourning, traumatized, and you’re still going to keep her here?!”

“She’s the only witness I have.”

“That’s a crock of shit, all three of us saw him, Wolf, three large slashes across his chest, how clear is the answer?” 

Bigby squares his shoulders and stands, a hand on his wrist drawing his attention quickly to the blonde woman sitting in her wooden seat still, “Don’t-”

“I’m just going to check the scene, I’ll be back.” he looks up at Gren again, as [Y/N] drops her hand from Bigby’s wrist. 

Three large gashes

“- it was so scary! He had teeth almost as big as my body! Oh, you should have seen his claws, too, no wonder Colin was so afraid!” Red sits in [Y/N]’s wide bed, nestled underneath a wooden ladder that she and Woody built together in her treehouse. [Y/N] sits at the top of the loft above her bed, gazing out the large window to the grass below. Red looks at her blonde friend's collection of books on the shelves behind the stairs to the loft, standing off the bed, climbing onto the second floor without needing the stairs. 

{Y/N], now 14, looks out the window towards the grass below, only quarter listening to her friend's horrific tale of a badger or something that tried to break in, but Woody had dealt with it, as he often did. Part of her felt guilty not giving her friend the attention she deserved, but her mind raced with memories of a familiar voiced woman trying to climb her way into her treehouse. A face she’d missed since she lost her in the woods. She moves a jaw-length coil of gold behind her ear, redirecting her thoughts, as that’s not what really happened, as [Y/N] knew now. 

“Goldy?” Red calls, tilting her head, her lovely brown waves falling just slightly past her shoulder. Her friend's high cheekbones and vibrant eyes always seemed to comfort her, “what’s on your mind?”

“I. . .found my Ma trying to get into my treehouse a fortnight ago.” [Y/N]’s voice was more soft and uncertain than she meant to be. She was certain it was her, even after all these years.

“What? Are you sure? What happened?”

“It was really dark, I don’t know. I am near certain it was her, but still. Why now? After all this time? How did she even find me?” 

“Nana always says a mother can find her babe even in the deepest of pits. Maybe she used magic?”

“Ma has never been adept with magic.” [Y/N] sighs, looking out the window again, her hand resting against the thick wooden wall. “Whatever happened with that. . .wolf? You said Woody dealt with him? Did he kill him?”

“I hope so, last I heard, the Woodsman cut his belly open and threw him in the river, he said he used large rocks to pin him down, but he was way too big, I don’t really know if it will keep him away. I’m worried he’ll come back, and maybe claw both Nana and I open…” Red shivers, hugging herself, but again [Y/N] can only focus for a short time. Only long enough to get the mental image of a hungry wolf slashing a poor fellow open with mighty claws.

Bigby steps into the alley, finding the dumpster the body is stuffed behind. He carefully steps over the arms, pushing the dumpster aside until he has enough space to examine the victim. He kneels down to look at him with a sigh, “damn.” 

Woody’s eyes are half lidded, milky white, and his lips lay open enough to show his teeth. Looking further down the body, he sees the grizzly scratches that desecrate the big man’s torso, leaving his shirt in tatters as the flesh curls away to leave pale pink muscle tissue, and just beyond that cream-white ribs. Bigby quirks a brow at the slashes, looking around the ground around the body-

“No blood?” he scrubs a hand down his chin. He looks at Woody’s hands, finding them limp, empty and stiff. He’d been dead for some time, and his ax is nowhere to be seen. Bigby knew well enough that Woody wouldn’t just leave his precious ax somewhere, even if for a late night romp. No, he was deliberately placed here. But why? He leans in, taking in a good long whiff, only to find the smell of wet soil and fresh cut grass. How brows knit and he takes another breath, and he smells fresh cookies, baked bread, muffins? [Y/N] said nobody had seen him in days, so why does he smell like her home? And firewood and soot.

He looks down the bottom of the body, dirty pants and even dirtier boots. Nothing abnormal there- only, he looks closer and finds blood on the right pant leg cuff. It’s dried, two small droplets, but it’s enough to prove his theory that Woody’s body was placed here for the employees- for [Y/N] to find. He clenches his fists and stands up, heading back inside the bar. 

Holly is sitting in silence in a stool pulled over to [Y/N], gently rubbing her back as the blonde woman hugs her knees, eyes far away and tired. Bigby walks over, “I know this is hard for you, but I need to ask one more question.”

Holly grits her teeth but says nothing, Gren sneers at Bigby but also stays silent. [Y/N] nods, slowly, but doesn’t look up.

“You said you hadn’t seen Woody in three days, but he smells like your apartment.” 

She lifts her gaze to look at him then, expression hurt and eyes threatening to weep, again. 

“You think I did something to him?”

“Either that, or he was in your apartment without your permission- or knowledge.” 

“Possibly, he does have a spare key. But he always tells me when he’s there, for any reason. He wouldn’t just go to my apartment without telling me.”

“Are you sure?” 

Her mouth falls closed and she sighs, “I answered your question. Now, I’m going home.” she stands and looks over at Holly with an apologetic look, not even smiling. She nods and turns, grabbing her coat and heading out the door. The three Fables in the room don’t try to stop her. 

The setting sun dances between the buildings outside of her apartment, gently gliding through her blinds and landing on the floor at the foot of her love seat. The tv plays a random video on YouTube that she has since stopped paying attention to, more preoccupied by the pumpkin crepes baking in the oven, the nine orders on the counter cooling, putting away the dishes that were resting in the strainer as she cleaned between uses. She grabs the wire rack from the far side of the island, placing the cookies onto a flat tray and snipping the tip of her piping bag full of cherry blossom pink frosting. Briar Rose was always a fan of her pink double chocolate sugar cookies, but even for her 200 cookies was excessive. Oh well, it’s been keeping [Y/N]’s mind busy, and so she’s content.

Her hair is tied up in a tight bun, baggy gray sweatpants and a light brown tank top underneath her trusty pink apron that is somehow spotless, despite how much cooking she had done recently. She wraps up a few of the orders, stealing a peek at the calendar on her fridge. Only a few of the orders are for within the week, but knowing Beauty and Beast, they won’t mind getting their delivery early. 

And then there’s Jack’s request, but does she even give him the pleasure of considering his order, considering his attempt at reselling her hard work two years ago? Her nose crinkles at the thought, certainly not. He’d lost his privilege to eat her tasty treats when he betrayed her trust. 

A knock on the door draws her from her tasks and she washes her hands, patting them dry on the pink hand towel hanging on the hook above the sink, before walking to the door and opening it. Standing in the hallway, with a bag of Chinese takeout, is Sheriff Bigby Wolf.

[heylavellan]

Hello!!! Happy Friday 💕 I saw the lack of sleep starters and I feel like they were *made* for Lucanis?? So, if you're feeling it, "I promise, I'm fine. I just look tired a lot, thanks to... the tiredness." for him and your Rook maybe?

lucanis really needs sleep 😭😭

so, some veilguard spoilers for today's @dadrunkwriting

sous chef,

rating: t

words: 1250

notes: uses spanish as antivan. crow rook! antonio is nonbinary and uses they/them.

They were politely ignoring each other, both pretending to not be Crows for a bit. Lucanis heard them enter around five minutes ago and when he left the pantry he was likely listening to Antonio's breathing pattern. As practiced as they were in faking sleep, the breathing rhythm was the hardest to get right. He definitely knew that they were awake and nearby, the same way that they had listened to him pace in the pantry for a few minutes and have a hushed conversation with Spite.

It was nice to pretend that, for just a bit, they both weren't trained killers, trying to kill gods to prevent the end of the world. Just a qunari and a not-quite-abomination.

In the kitchen, life was predictable. Chopping vegetables, boiling water, frying food or baking bread. Consistent sounds, safe sounds. No darkspawn, no venatori, no antaam. Just Rook's new family.

They were dragged out of the peaceful reverie when Lucanis hissed. All pretense of being asleep was cast aside and Rook crossed the room to his side. A quick examination found his hand in theirs. "You don't have to-” he began before Antonio shushed him.

They pressed a kiss to the side of his finger, where the knife had sliced off some skin. The air around them cooled as they channeled magic through their lips, to staunch the bleeding. "That should help until you can get it properly treated," Rook interrupted, squeezing his hand. "The little cuts always sting like a bitch."

"Got tired of playing two Crows in the kitchen?" he teased, though something felt off in his voice. His heart wasn't behind it. Lucanis squeezed their hand back, drawing their gaze to his eyes. Ah.

Antonio cupped his cheek, running their thumb along his cheekbones. The bags were dark under his eyes. "I'm just making sure that my big bad demon is taking care of himself," they responded, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Besides killing gods, he's the only one here who makes good coffee."

Lucanis stifled a laugh and kissed the palm of their hand. A clever distraction, which got him out of their grasp. "Oi, querido. I'm not a chef like you, but I can follow instructions. You're gonna hurt yourself," Antonio scolded, gently pushing him aside.

He tried one more time to return to the cutting board, but Rook kept him out of the way. "If you don't tell me what to do, I will find a way to burn pasta and ruin your hard work," they threatened. The look of horror on his face told Rook they won him over.

"The pepper and...," Lucanis paused as he looked for the word. He gestured to the long dark green vegetable he previously set aside.

"Zucchini. Nearly ruined a contract in Orlais by calling them that. Orlesians call them courgettes," Rook responded, carefully slicing the peppers into thin ribbons and then into small cubes.

"The pepper and zucchinis need to be cut small. Bellara won't eat them otherwise. Throw them in the pot when you're finished," he instructed.

A few moments passed before they heard Lucanis shuffling around, presumably making himself a cup of coffee. "Is diablillo causing problems again?" Rook asked.

"Toño..." he warned, before grinding the coffee beans. They let the noises of the kitchen fill the air. Antonio was more than happy to just be near him.

Once they finished chopping the pepper, they scraped it into the pot. As they began to chop the zucchini, Lucanis decided he wanted to respond: "I promise, I'm fine. I just look tired a lot, thanks to... the tiredness."

They removed the stem of the zucchini and began the work of finely slicing it. "And not because you're worried about Spite?" they queried.

The scent of the rich coffee wafted through the kitchen, cutting through the earthy scent of vegetables on the hob. They saw a cup set down on the far end of the counter in the periphery of their vision. Even through the ambience of the kitchen, they heard him take a sip of coffee. They smiled to themself. The little things.

"You know that if I fall asleep it will cause problems," he complained. They imagined he was scowling at his coffee. Probably gesturing a bit with the cup as well, having some sort of conversation with Spite. "Besides, I would rather you spend your time with me instead of Spite."

"And you should know better Lucanis," they chided, scraping the cut zucchini into the pot. "Diablillo is part of you. Taash and I are good at handling it. Neve and Bellara probably wouldn't mind pitching in."

Rook set down the knife and wiped their hands on the towel hung from Lucanis' waist. "I worry about you," they confessed, reaching for their coffee. "I'd be happier if you slept."

The next few moments were spent sipping coffee, side by side, the quiet simmer of the soup their back drop. "You, uh, probably should stir the pot," Lucanis eventually suggested. Rook nodded, setting their coffee down and moving to follow his instructions.

They pursed their lips and removed the lid, stirring the contents to ensure nothing stuck to the bottom. Focusing on the flame, they reduced the heat a bit. This little bit, they could do.

It seemed that easing his worries about Spite wasn't on the table. But they knew all it took was one mission going wrong. Varric was out of commission and they had to take charge. That tired, Lucanis was vulnerable in battle. His reactions were slower. With a taunt from the wrong opponent, Spite could escape his grip and do something Lucanis would regret.

These were consequences Lucanis would face. But it still tore Antonio up inside. "Mi luz, I'm sorry," Lucanis whispered. They must have started crying. He was holding them close, wiping tears from their face.

"I just worry about you. I know you're capable. I know you're strong. I just... I care Lucanis. That's the hard part," they sniffled. Being with Lucanis would have been easier if they treated it like a contract. Or like a way to burn off energy. But no, they got invested in his wellbeing.

Lucanis pulled them closer, burying himself into their shoulder. They wished, briefly, they were much shorter so Lucanis could engulf them. However, that would reduce the amount of blushing looks from him as he got caught staring at their chest.

"You know my mind, tesoro. You saw my doubts and fears and you soothed them. You saw how ugly it was," he declared.

Antonio interrupted, "S'not ugly." Sure, it was intense. But it was Lucanis unfiltered. They imagined most folks would have a messy mind.

"You're wrong. It's ugly in there. I'm still unwinding everything," he insisted.

"When I said I couldn't stand the thought of anything happening to you, I meant it. I want to be there. I want to help," they said as they caught their breath.

"You're impossible," he grumbled, before leaning foreward to kiss them. He had to get on his tiptoes until Antonio craned their neck down for him. Sweet, quick, close.

When they pulled apart, Rook whispered, "I've heard being held can help you fall asleep."

Lucanis laughed as he planted one more kiss against Antonio's lips. "I hate that Spite is agreeing with you right now," he chuckled.

"It's gonna find out really quickly that I'm really boring," they smirked. "Now how long do I have you before dinner is ready?

[marilynthornhilllover]

When you call my name. Do you think i'll come running? {Part 1}

+watch my heart burn

Summary: lady dimitrescu kills your friends but you managed to get away unnoticed, what happens when you go to work for her to get revenge on behalf of your mother? Will fate stand on your side?or will you let feelings get inside?

Lady dimitrescu x maid fem reader

Warning: insomnia, grief,anxiety, fear, slow burn, blood, cut wound, clumsy, slight depression, heartbreak,confusion,bullying, fluff.

A/n: I'm sorry if this is a bit long i just got this idea when i woke up and had to do it😌the song choice fits the fic well, recomend listening👍. Hope you all enjoy my darlings🤗💞

Part 2

You slammed your door as you sat with your knees against your chest hyperventilating. How could she do this to you. She knew what lady dimitrescu did and is capable of and yet she wishes to send you off to work for her just to get money and revenge. How heartless could your mother possibly be. You sobed as flashbacks of the night swept through your mind.

It was your friend avas birthday and you decided to go on a hunt in the woods for fun. See the nature, the beautiful things there and near. You, ava and your other 2 friends. And that's when the beast did her killings. Her long claws brutally killed ava and your friends but you got away without being seen. You were horrified, terrified.

You hated yourself after that. It was your stupid idea to go hunting. You could have went to other places for her birthday, but no you wanted to be adventurous. You got her killed, on her birthday too. ava was a good friend to you. She'll never be forgotten. When you got home you couldn't breath, you kept seeing their bodies.

Years passed and you got over it. You got therapy and you were good now. But when ever you remembered the pure lost souls that died that night, it broke your heart. But it wasn't your fault, no, never , it's not your fault that monster killed your friends, that's on her.

~

It was the morning of your departure and you were mid.

"You be safe now my love, my dear daughter y/n, be brave my love and remember our plans" your mother whispered in your ear before kissing your cheek.

You turned to the attendant. And softly smiled.

You got into the carriage and waved your mother goodbye. It was a long way from the village to the dimitrescu castle. Fear filled your body as you realized who's territory you were approaching. Who's house you'll be in. Who's rules you'll be following.

You breathe out a shaky breath as the lady turned around to announce your arrival. You nodded shyly, flashed her a soft smile and exited the carriage.

You were immediately met with lady dimitrescu's cold golden eyes. They show no love, no mercy no compassion. But there was a hint of something in them. Sadness? Pain? Tiredness? You didn't know but there was something under all that cover, over all thoses walls that she built up there was some pain, hurt, sorrow.

You immediately flicked your gaze to the ground and walked up to her slowly.

" good evening, lady dimitrescu" you spoke softly, hardly above a whisper. She placed her finger under your chin and averted your gaze to look into her eyes. You got lost in them for a moment. Was she the one who killed your friends? Can't be..... she's so, she looks so pure.

"I asked a question child, speak up" she growled letting your chin fall, removing her cold finger tip from your skin. You couldn't help but miss her touch for a split second. Reminding yourself who you were infront of. Reminding yourself who she is, what she is.

"I-l'm sorry m-my lady, I know you d-don't like to repeat yourself but I did not hear your last w-words" you spoke squeezing your eyes shut, hoping that she doesn't slice you to ribbons.

"Look up child, let me see thoses pretty eyes" she spoke softly. You immediately looked up at her, not wanting to anger her more incase this was a trap.

"I'm soft on newbies, if there are any slip ups, you'll be forgiven. But do not test my patience, my anger is it's own person" she firmly said finding peace and calmness in your eyes. She hummed as she took one last look at you before walking away.

"Elizabeth make sure our new member is welcomed and comfortable, and please do inform my dear daughters of our new maiden. I do not want them snacking on her for dinner" she spoke with a growl like chuckle. As if it's happened already but she didn't care but for you. She wanted no one to hurt you. You were valuable to her. A deal like no other.

The head maiden shows you around the castle, gives you background story on everything etc. She final makes her final stop, your bedroom. She opened the door and your jaw dropped. It was huge. You had a very big bed, almost as big as the bedroom and your own personal bathroom that was even bigger.

"Daniela what are you doing here" Elizabeth spoke firmly with a cocked eyebrow.

Daniela looked up from her book and glanced at you. Her smiled brighten as her eyes gleamed. She squealed as she rushed off the bed to hug you. Her cute and innocent act could have fooled anyone. Fooled you. But Elizabeth has been working here way to long to not see right through her deadly act.

" Daniela dimitrescu but can call me dani, oldest, and-" Elizabeth cut her off with the clearing of her throat. Danielle huffed and backed up.

" dont play what your not daniela. I will not take responsibility for your foolishness, remember you mothers words" she spoke seriously, eyes flashing angrily. Daniella 'ughed' rolled her eyes and disappeared into files.

Elizabeth turns to you and holds you by both arms.

" theses people aren't as dangerous as they look,you hear me. Just don't fall into their trap and DO NOT GET ON THEIR NERVES." She spoke.

"Lady dimitrescu is a very nice lady, especially I she finds you useful. And what she did with you outside she's never done with other maiden. Count yourself lucky cause she already likes you,but do not take it for granted. She doesn't slice anyone to ribbons unless they do a God forbidden thing. Stand your ground, don't look weak, it's yes mistress or yes my lady same goes for when your saying no. Stay away from her daughters unless she asks you to give them something which she wont because your new" she rambled rules and guides for you until she was completely out of breath.

She really cared for you. She's seen some fucked up shit go down in the castle and she's gonna look out for you.

" lastly, the lady always test every new maids loyalty and ability to follow instructions, always listen to what she says and read in-between the lines and pick your words and responds very wisely. Oh and always be up before 7:00, that's it, if I missed any you'll find them in your ground rules book" she kissed your cheek and proceeded to walk out.

" hey lizzy" you called out stoping her in her tracks, though she didn't turn around you can tell she was listening.

"Thank you" you said softly as you smiled. She turned around and flashed you a warm smile.

" of course. Your one of us now y/n. Even though you might not like the lady. You will follow her oders. There's a track if your the exercise type and there's a library. You'll always be working so no time to fool around." She said before closing the door.

You hummed and walked around the room. It was nice. You walked over to the bed where your maid uniform was laid neatly. And bedside it had a note.

- Welcome To House Dimitrescu, your shift starts at 9:30 AM ends at 10:35 pm for now. Any enquiries ask lady sepol, head maiden better known as Elizabeth.

You looked at the time and realized that you only had 20 minutes til you had to be one duty. You quickly got dress and went downstairs. The first thing on your list was doing the dishes then sweeping in the evening and tidying up in the night.

You entered the kitchen but a girl stopped you and pinned a fancy name tagg onto your uniform.

You smiled softly at her but she doesn't smile back, instead she gives you a disgusting look. What's that for you thought to yourself. But then you remembered Elizabeth's words. "Don't show weakness". you must have been so caught up in thought that you didn't even notice you had bumped into someone.

" sorry, I'm so s-" you tried to wip the water off her clothes but she slapped your hand away harshly.

" watch where your going newbie what are you blind? Are has the the salary amount gotten to your head bitch?" She spat glaring at you, before you can apologize again a voice speaks up behind her.

" Oh Leah give her a break. You were once new too" she spoke softly. The girl turned to glare at the woman huffing.

"Yeah but I wasn't this blind was i?" She spoke before walking off bumping into your shoulder harshly.

You sighed as you mouthed 'thank you' to the lady before moving to the sink to do your job.

" Sarah. Sarah mildow. Assistant head maiden" she spoke softly offering you her hand.

You smiled at her and shaked it.

"Y/n y/l/n" you said, she nodded and went back to stacking the wine.

"Don't come off as weak, my sweet girl. But don't fight back" she mumbled, winking at you when she looked up. You pressed your lips together and went back to washing.

"What are you doing?" Asked the same girl from earlier. You wondered if she was crazy... or maybe she's the blind one. Can't she just cut you some slack.

"Didn't you read the freaking ground rules? Only wash the dishes with stain dish soap remover, now your gonna have to wash all those over and now your gonna be late for your next shift But oh well not my problem" she laughed wickly and left.

You bit your lip and growned, now you'll have to re-wash 150 plates. You got to work and finished late. You quickly started doing your second shift for the day and it was around dinner time for the dimitrescu family. As you were sweeping the floor near the kitchen you hear lots of noise.

There's was shouting and yelling and it was loud. How could human beings shout so loud without their voice box being damaged or getting hoarseness But then it hit you. They weren't human.

You entered the dinning room area and quietly sweep the floors. The entire time lady dimitrescu had her eyes fixed on you. You could feel them pulling at you, heating your skin. You tried desperately to make yourself smaller.

" doing that isn't gonna make you disappear draga"she spoke loudly the table going quiet. Her daughters looked at her weirdly but soon realized she wasn't talking to them. Lady dimitrescu has never called a maiden that. Never ever. A couple maids who were picking up the left over foods were astonished. You didn't know what the word meant or what kind of people she says it to but all you knew you wanted to disappear.

"Come take this to the kitchen pet" she spoke firmly, watching as your shakily walked over to her avoiding her gaze. As you picked up the glass, your shaking hands caused it to drop and break. The girls began to laugh as tears welled in your eyes. Can't you do anything right. Lady dimitrescu wasn't angry though, she kept looking at you with curiosity and hope.

" Leah clean this up. As for you my dear get started on your other shift. " she spoke as she got up to leave the table. You were too scared to move. This lady dimitrescu noticed and chuckled. She gently placed her hands on your hips and moved you to the side so she can get up from her chair. Her hands on your waist felt magical.

She held you close as she whispered into your ear. The smell of strong rich people perfume and smoke over take your senses.

" That's already one slip up and it's only your first day,my love"

She removed her hands and walked away, her daughters vanished into a vast of flies. Leah pushed you which caused you to fall and cut your finger on the shareds of glass on the floor. She grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at her.

" i don't hate you y/n, but get your shit together because I don't want to clean up any more maiden blood" she said, letting go of you and walking away to go get the broom.

You finished your shifts and went to your room.

You took a cold shower and went to bed. Thankfully you weren't to late for bed. It's was only 11:08pm. You sighed as you set your alarm for tomorrow and closed your eyes. You twisted and turned no matter what you did you couldn't sleep. Maybe it's because of who's house you were sleeping in.

You sighed as you looked at the time.

12:15pm. You groaned. You really wanted to get some rest before getting for 5:00 tomorrow. You remember Elizabeth said that there's a library. Maybe if you read you'll eventually fall asleep, yeah.

You got up and threw on a thin comfy butterfly multi color robe and went to the library. As you entered your jaw dropped. It was amazing. It was definitely bigger than your room, and it had 4 floors filled with shelfs and books.

You smiled as you walked over to one of the isle. You couldn't find anything you like so you decided to move to a next one. As you came out you saw lady dimitrescu sitting on the couch with her hair undone, makeup off, comfy lace night gown and her reading glasses. Your eyes flicked down to her smooth legs. Her porcelain skin was glowing in the fire place light. It's rare anyone sees her like this.

Your eyes flicked down lower to her red toes and back up to the book she was reading. "Bows and arrows of a fool" it sounds interesting you think to yourself. You flicked your eyes higher to see lady dimitrescu looking at you over her glasses.

Fear builds in you as you quickly pull back and hide.

" I already saw you draga mea. Come out pet" she said sighing as she closed the book. You repeated the word shit over and over again and she shyly came around the corner and stood some distance away from her. You kept looking at the ground and fidgeting with your fingers.

" what difference does it make you look at me in secret but hide your pretty eyes from me in public child" she said changing her position in the chair. You heard how it creaked as it accommodates her weight.

Her eyes racked up your body. Fragile, valuable, fearful, shy there's so many words she can use to describe you just by looking at you.

"Come sit child" she spoke, her tone more soft and gentle. Although alcina was rough and cold on the outside on the inside she was just someone who didn't have a choice, someone who life beat up really bad, someone pure. You moved slowly to stand infront of her, still no eye contact was made.

She pulled you onto her lap and cradled you. Running her hand gently through your hair. You couldn't help but melt into her embrace. Her touch was soft and gentle despise her cold demeanor. She smelled like lavender and wine, with a hint of smoke.

You wrapped your arms around her neck and snuggled into her neck. She gently placed a kiss to your forehead and started rubbing shapes onto your thighs, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

" couldn't sleep draga?" She asked lifting your chin so she can look at you. You looked so scared, so tried. It broke her heart slightly. After thousands of eyes of feeling no other emotion other than anger and rage, alcina actually felt sorryful. Yet she didn't quite know what for. But holding you made something in her heart break. Maybe it was the love ones she killed for you and didn't know.

If she knew you were the one who got away that night what would she do?. Would she even be holding you? Kissing your skin? Calling you draga.

"Why do you fear me, darling?" She asked truthfully. Why would someone fear her to their core but still wish to be her hand cloth. Money make people do stupid things all the time but working for her, even money wouldn't make someone do something so risky. Especially with the type of anger she holds.

So why does a sweet angel dove like you wish to be in her presence? It simply amazes her. You both got lost in each other's eyes for what seemed like eternity. On til something in you snapped. She killed your friends. But yet here you lay in her arms, fearless. As if nothing happened.

You wanted to ask her the question so bad, why did you do it? There were so many questions you wanted to ask her. Because if she was the brutal monster every one claims she is, why is she so pure?

" I'll take my leave now, my lady" you spoke quietly, removing yourself from her embrace. You were supposed to ask her permission to leave yet her anger is far from building. What spell does this girl have on me, alcina thought to herself. You slowly backed out of the room. Elizabeth's voice ringing in your ear.

" theses people are not as dangerous as they look you hear me?"

"Lady dimitrescu is a very nice lady, especially if she finds you useful"

"What she did with you was rare, count yourself lucky, but don't take in for granted"

You felt dizzy, like your world was spinning. Your friends death flash before your eyes. Alcinas pure eyes. Elizabeth's words. She can't be the monster that killed them.... can she?

The real question is why does she like you? She she have a plan? Because so do you....

You make you way to your room speed walking as fast as you could. Not wanting to run to make a scene to the night shift guard maids. You enter your room and quickly lock the door behind you. You jump into your bed and cover yourself under the duvet.

Tomorrow is a new day. You thought to yourself. Your mother's voice echo in your head.

"She's a monster, but we'll get our revenge."

"Don't trust her y/n, be brave and remember the plan"

You soon fell asleep hoping that tomorrow doesn't cause trouble.....

[hannahssimblr]

She saunters back a few minutes later with a serene smile, two plaits swinging around her shoulders. 

I squint up at her. “That was quick.”

“Yeah, well, the mobile is so close.” 

“You get your togs?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, well do you want to swim here or further down towards the rocks? That’s where I usually go.” I point towards my end of the beach, where the masses of people thin out with the coastline, where the sand is coarser and the tide trickles in over rounded pebbles. It’s my preferred swimming spot, because nobody bothers to go there but the old women who swim laps early in the morning, and then sit around chatting by the steps with their flasks of tea. They think it’s their spot, but it isn’t. It’s mine. 

We hike there together with the sun on our backs, and when I get there, too tired and sweaty to explain myself, I just take my shoes and t-shirt off and throw them onto the ground. Her eyes dart away from me, and I want to reassure her it’s fine, it’s just a torso, maybe a particularly sweaty one, but I don’t care if she looks. There’s nothing wrong with my body, in fact, and I’m pleased with the effort I’ve put into it. I’m not embarrassed as long as she’s not embarrassed. Bodies are bodies. I’ve learned that from life drawing. I imagine expressing any of this, and going into so much detail about my specific thoughts on the matter might make her think that I particularly want her to look at me, which… 

I don’t. 

“Ready to go?”

She nods. 

I run for the water and swim to the deep part as quickly as I can, letting feeling its coldness shock my hot skin. It steals my air at first, and I gasp, but in one moment it’s glorious. It glistens around me, so clear that I can watch the ribbons of seaweed slither on the sea floor beneath me.

“Coming?” I call out to Evie, still clothed on the shore. 

“Yes,” she says, and doesn’t move a muscle.

I turn and look at the horizon so that she can get undressed in privacy. There's a splash as her body hits the water. 

“Oh!” She squeals, “Cold!”

I don’t turn around. “Just get your shoulders in.”

“I know!”

“Sorry, yeah, you made sure to mention that you swim three times a day.”

She titters, “It just takes me a while to adjust. Leave me alone.”

“I am.”

“Okay,” she is closer now, her ripples meshing with mine, and is smiling. The ends of her plaits drift freely under the surface like mermaid hair.

“Water is nice, isn’t it?”

Her teeth chatter. “Mm, like a bath.”

I take in a lungful of air and dunk my head under, just to get the worse out of the way, and then, wiping salt water from my eyes, I tell her, “Way better when you get your head in.”

“I don’t always do that. With my hair and everything, it just becomes an ordeal.”

“Your hair?”

“Yeah, like, not that it’s… special hair or something. Like, you know it’s just an effort to wash and dry it and go through the whole thing.”

“Oh, what? Come on, I thought you’d be the kind of person to dunk your head under at least. So what if your hair gets wet?”

“Easy for you to say.” She rolls her eyes, and I know I am going to dunk her. It would be impossible to resist such a hilarious act. 

I feel like a shark, circling her carefully, my hands ready beneath the water to grab her if she tries to move too suddenly. 

“Come on, get your head in.”

“I don’t have to!”

“For me?”

She laughs. “For you? What’s it to you?”

“Okay, okay, for you then, come on, you won’t regret it.”

“No!” she says, and I lunge for her, missing the leg I reached for, but I had a backup plan. With my spare arm, I skim the surface and splash an armful of water at her. She shrieks, but wastes no time in splashing me right back with some kind of professional technique. The sheet of water she sends my way hits me with such force that it almost knocks me sideways, and I am shocked, never having thought I’d witness such power from someone her size. 

But two can play that game. I bite my lip with determination and slice the water with my entire arm, sending a tsunami over her head, and she gasps, half of her hair dripping wet. After hauling it out of her face, she stares at me with shock and incredulity.

I shrug. “Sorry. Got you, though.”

“Oh! Oh, you’re in for it now!” She attempts her revenge strategy, but I’m faster than she is. I dive into the water and grab hold of her ankle and yank her under with me, her head submerged at last. 

She bursts up, spluttering. “Jude!”

“Oh, sorry. Sorry, I feel bad. C’mon,” I hold up my hands in surrender and let her gather herself, and get all the water from her eyes before trying again. “Evie,” I say, “Truce.”

“There’s no truce.” She’s right, and there is no longer a reason to pretend, so I try to grab her, this time missing. We circle around each other, I, launching for her, and her, dodging me with increasing intensity. I don’t even know if this is a game anymore. It feels like a battle.  

I pounce, and manage to curl my hand around the back of her knee, where her skin is soft under my fingers. She jerks and kicks my thigh, hard. This time she is serious.

I release her. She turns over and swims away. 

What did I do? Did I hurt her? Did I take it too far? I thought we were just messing around. She floats aimlessly, her face turned away, but I can see her ears. They have gone red. 

“I think I’m going to get out,” she announces. 

“... Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just getting cold. I don’t want to catch a chill.”

“Okay… then me too.”

“You don’t have to, if you’re not ready.”

“No, it’s fine. Let’s get out.”

I reach the shore first and wade out onto the pebbles and the shells. They slide beneath my soles and cause me to stumble as a wave hits the back of my calves. Highly uncool, but at least I didn’t fall in front of Evie. Back on solid ground, I turn to see her wading out, the water lapping around her thighs, and pause.

Her curves glisten in the sunlight, her long, slender legs and small waist. I couldn’t see any of her body while submerged in the sea. By design. She didn’t want me to. But for that half-second I let myself look at her, I am convinced that God is real. 

“Did you bring a towel?”

She shakes her head.

“Here.” I swipe her t-shirt off the ground and toss it to her. “Come back to my house with me. We’ll get one for you.”

She struggles into her top as it sticks to her damp skin, and immediately crosses her arms over her chest as the fabric soaks in all the water in her bikini, leaving two dark, obvious triangles right over her boobs. Not that I saw. It’s not like me to look. 

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