#maid of amsterdam

[le-chevalier-au-lion]

the maid of amsterdam: dovquez [g]

@dovquezdecember + charcoal

The mermaid in the fish tank has a perfectly pleasant expression despite it being a remarkably shitty fish tank—except for his eyes, charcoal black and charcoal dull, huge, unblinking.

A shark’s eyes. And a shark isn't trying to be malicious when it bites, it just wants to figure out if you’re food.

Andrea swallows. “Ah, good afternoon. You’re Marc, right?”

Marc, estimated to be 11 ft long, still unweighted as all approach attempts have culminated in conflict, found off the coast of Castelldefels by Rossi and his crew God knows when and God knows why.

The mermaids nods once. He appraises Andrea cooly, with the artful boredom of executives and government officials when presented with his research pitches. It should go into his notes—enough understanding of human interaction to regulate emotional response.

Christ, alright. Very comforting.

“I’m Andrea Dovizioso,” he says. The next words stick to his throat like algae—does a mermaid know the ISPRA? Should he explain it? Tell him he’s a protected species these days?

Andrea sighs, rubbing his face. The mermaid—Marc—raises his eyebrows, snorts, bubbles spilling from his pink, almost harmless mouth. He has to reckon with the fact that he’s being made fun of by a creature he isn’t sure knows anything about comedic timing.

Typical Valentino—making trouble and shoving them on his hands.

“I’m here to help you,” is what he settles on.

Marc’s tail swishes, an odd jolt of movement. It’s too cramped in his tank for it to wave and ripple, so it ends up trapped tight against the glass, its tip dangling out. Like this, Andrea can see his scales, pearly white and orange, over five feet of them. They’ve grown dull, loose in some spots.

He smooths out a frown before it can carve itself on his face, chews on the insides of his cheeks instead. Is Marc sick?

But he manages to surge up anyway, until his torso is out and his tail is in. His gills flutter, and he finally, finally blinks.

“You are.”

Marc speaks in clumps, the syllables strained—like he’s reading out words in a language he doesn’t recognize. It isn’t a question, not quite, but he tilts his head to the side, exaggerated, too low, expectant. His overgrown curls flopping over his forehead are disarming.

Andrea taps his fingers against his thigh, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three. Marc keeps staring at him with those eyes, bottomless, flinty. The stark letters of his files flash black in his mind—ambush hunter, mesocarnivore. Opportunistic, clever, cruel, whatever else Valentino wrote on him.

“Yes, we’re trying to get you back home,” he speaks carefully, slowly. Marc mouths along the words, frowns. “Not now, but soon. I hope.”

“Soon,” Marc echoes.

His mouth wobbles, and his whole expression spasms. It isn’t a flinch, goes over quicker than one. Andrea spots the misery in the sudden weight on his shoulders, how he hunches over himself. Still, he can’t get a hand around it. Marc’s expression becomes smooth like sea glass again—remarkably, immaculately empty. It might as well not have happened.

The humanity of that face—the sudden wide-eyed hope—settles on his stomach like lead. Makes Andrea feel like he should be back on ethics classes, bent over a Philosophy book.

It makes him way too aware of how many generations of species ago humans abandoned the sea.

Andrea huffs. Makes himself focus on the problem at hand—the small security tank, and the wildlife trafficking charges Valentino will face, and the reputation of his new charge.

“Are you going to try and bite my arm off?” He raises a single, pointed eyebrow. Marc shrugs, opaque. “Break my legs? Drown me?”

Only Valentino could get close to him—his pool, or his tank. Only Valentino, until one day Marc wrapped his tail around his waist and dragged him under. It took four minutes and thirty-two seconds for people to wrench him from that hold. Wet, incoherent, trying to cough out his lungs.

Andrea saw the video. They were talking before, Valentino very close to the pool’s edge, Marc swishing and almost writhing, kicking up waves. The pixelated security cams couldn’t get more than that, and the blur of white and orange that followed.

Marc makes a face at him. Then said tail snaps up.

Andrea watches its lazy arc in fucking disbelief and doesn’t even flinch when something hits his shoes. The water is lukewarm, thick with brine. His socks are drenched.

He’ll have to do laundry again tonight. Great.

“Right,” he deadpans, “it’ll be nice working with you.”

Marc smiles—tries to, at least. Andrea isn’t sure if he can or wants to or knows how to. It’s more a show of teeth than sincere, each of them white and wicked. If he pushed, he could cut his fingers on their fine points.

“I wanted to get your face.”

[raurquiz]

#happybirthday @rebeccawisocky #RebeccaWisocky #actress #Ramdha #startrekpicard #deviousmaids #thementalist #americanhorrorstory #hellomynameisdoris #theresident #onceuponatime #thepurge #swat #911onfox #majorcrimces #Heathers #dopesick #ForAllMankind #amsterdam #ghosts

[ofbeautsandbeasts]

Greetings from Holland! Hope you're well! 😆 I reached Amsterdam 4 days ago and I've been doing all the stereotypical Dutch tourist things 🌹🤩🌷 Ngl, I've never seen so many flowers in my life! (Go to Keukenhof in mid-March to mid-May if you want to see millions of flowers!) The old windmills at Zaanse Schans were pretty awesome too.

Now I'm in Rotterdam admiring the architecture. They have so many cool, modern buildings here! 🏢🌇🏨

[lumpyflakycum]

99% of ramblers quit right before they realise that there's more in the clench of a fine young wench than a life of gallantry

99% of ramblers quit right before they conceive of a coherent thought. KEEP TALKING

[elsweetheart]

crystal champagne glasses — bodyguard!abby au

synopsis: when reader, the millionaires daughter can’t help but misbehave — Abby the no nonsense bodyguard is hired to live in the mansion.

�� every man gets his wish — lana del rey (unreleased) ♪

cw: fem reader, mentions of money / money problems, overprotective parents, mentions of loss of a parent (not reader), daddy issues lol, sprinkle of mommy issues too, alcohol and drinking, tiny mention of being sick, reader working out mentions, brat tamer abby lol, size kink, reader cries and gets humiliated and angry a lot lol, degradation, masturbation, strap on sex, think that’s it?

an: i had so much fun writing this! this is the quickest i’ve ever written a fic, i think because i’ve been excited to write this one and planning it for ages! now, if you don’t like my writing please click off now. no one is forcing you to read my fics. to all the people who have been excited for this fic, ily and i hope you enjoy it! as always, minors + ageless blogs do not interact with this or any posts / fics of mine. you will be blocked! ♡

You weren’t a princess. You were not a princess. You wished you were, shit — maybe your parents would actually care about you. Unfortunately though, there was no royalty behind your name. Just two millionaire parents who would apparently rather be anywhere else but at home with you.

You had your own hobbies, friends, a life — back at home. But of course, if you had so much as wanted to leave the mansion to partake in such activities, such as socialising (God forbid!) you’d need an escort, a driver, secret security officers stalking you, creeping out all of your friends and more. After a while it just became… not worth it. So you stopped showing up, stopped hanging out with people — and understandably, your invite to meeting up with friends started to get supposedly lost in the post. Things get lonely fast.

Bitterness was hardly the word for it. You understood your circumstances and if you were anything it wasn’t ungrateful. Your father only wanted you to be safe, hence the dozens of hired body guards in and out (But you’ll get back to that in a moment, of course.) Your friends just assumed you didn’t wanna hang out anymore, hence the missed invites. You had only started misbehaving out of bitterne— no, not bitter. Pissed off. Rightfully.

You always felt dread when you saw the answer machine light up red with a new message from the only person who had the number — your father. Where on Earth could he be calling from this time? Perhaps lounging by the pool in Greece or dining at a rooftop garden in Dubai — experiencing the world and bravely taking a moment out of his incredibly busy day to drop you a patronising and vaguely threatening voicemail. Atleast he spoke to you, unlike your mother who’d much rather pretend you didn’t exist because, and you quote, the stress of your misbehaviour ‘gave her wrinkles.’ Your manicured finger hovered over the button before pressing down, huffing out your nose as you stared out at the morning fog over the grassy hills of your land.

‘Good morning darling, dad calling again. You keep missing my calls, which I assume is on purpose so I’m leaving you a message anyways. I’m currently in Amsterdam with your mother and I just caught wind of Malakai the bodyguard quitting ‘suddenly and abruptly’ according to one of the maids. I’ve told you once and I will tell you again, if you don’t stop harassing the guards and forcing them to quit you will be in serious trouble. I mean cut off completely, sent off to work in the city with no more than a shitty little apartment and no money. So, I have decided to give you one last chance. I’ve purchased a bodyguard to live in with you starting Sunday morning so you’re going to have to fend for yourself until then. I searched high and low for this one, apparently they specialise in poorly behaved brats like yourself — so I’m hoping if anything that will whip you into shape. You’ve been through five bodyguards this year and it’s February. I’m serious about my threats. Step a foot out of line and you’re done, your mother and I are deadly serious. I will be calling the new hire at the end of next week to check in on your behaviour. Do not let us down darling, you will regret it. Okay, that’s all. See you when I see you.’

You smile.

Oh, how sometimes things just worked out. A life of your own, with normality and struggle and freedom — no watchful eye breathing down your neck and no lack of purpose weighing down on you. Your father had presented you with the easiest task, piss off the new hire so that you’d be set free. A task you’d grown to perfect, having done so time and time again.

The crackle of wheels on the gravel path leading up to the mansion awakens you on the Sunday morning. You want to grumble, having gotten literally no sleep. You see, you were terribly afraid of the dark — and you couldn’t sleep without your guard having light the fire in the fireplace of your bedroom (The one use you found for the hired help.) You had no idea how to light it and didn’t trust yourself not to burn the house down — so you went without. Hence the awful nights sleep. Where were you? Yes, curious. Rudely awakened and curious.

Your short nightie does nothing to combat the cool morning chill as you get up from the bed, letting your bed covers slide off your body as you traipse over to your window. A black Range Rover, they’re all the same. All the same angry men that drive the same angry car, with the same angry build and the same angry face. You scoff at the memory of your fathers threat on the voice message, stating that this guard was to be anything you weren’t used to before. You knew it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

Except, you were caught off guard when the door opens. You watch a woman climb out the car, despite the vehicles spacious design she still seemed to unfold like she was inflatable as she climbed out — almost seeming too big for even a car like that. She was built, strong arms and chest, tree trunk thighs and veiny hands. You narrow your eyes at the black sunglasses perched on the bridge of her jagged nose, taking them off as she looks around with a serious expression. She was attractive, you’d admit — but in a way that made you cross. That stupid skin tight black t-shirt and black cargos and thick weighty belt around her waist told you everything you needed to know about her. The militant type, she was going to try and intimidate you with her seriousness. You smirk, seeing this as a challenge. She has no idea what she’s up against.

You rush down the spiral stairs at the sound of her lugging her bags inside. She flicks her braid over her shoulder to glance at you standing there analytically as she does so, biceps bulging as she lifts the heavy black cases into the centre of your foyer stood beneath the chandelier. She looked much too harsh for somewhere delicate like this.

“I take it you aren’t going to introduce yourself.” She speaks after a moment of sorting her bags, closing the front door to signify she was done bringing her things inside. You cling to the tall bannister, toeing the cold pristine marble floor, eyeing her and her things as if each bag had a bomb inside. She stands up to her full height, atleast breaching the 6ft margin and you squint, watching her stretch her arms to relieve herself from the weight of the bags. “Off to a great start already.” She retorts as you ignore her, her long legs stepping over a black duffle bag on the floor toward you.

“Why are your bags so heavy?” You ask quietly, less curious and more judgemental. Who did she think she was moving in here with all that stuff? She takes a long inhale, accenting the muscle in her chest as she places her hands on her hips. Her reply is calm and unbothered.

“I brought my weights with me, and lots of other things I need to stay in my condition. Do you have a name?” Her voice is velvety and more feminine than you expected. Your stomach gets hot and prickly at the sound.

“You know my name. I can bet anything my father told you everything about me infact.” You jut your chin up stubbornly. It’s her turn to analyse now, tilting her head a little to the side as she leans on her hip, eyeing you once over and then again.

“Yeah. Your dad was kind enough to tell me all about you and how you treated your past bodyguards. But when you first meet someone, you introduce yourself. So introduce yourself.” There is a slight bite to your tone and your eyes flutter a bit. You’re used to men being agitated with you, infact you thrive off it— but you’ve never had a woman guard before. Something about the harsh tone hurt you just that little more. Shit, maybe you just had mommy issues.

You mutter your name, eyes laser focused on her clinging to the last shred of dignity you had — but when she gives you a curt nod and an equally quiet ‘There you go’ it perishes in the wind like a dying leaf crumbling away for winter. She turns, looking around at her bags before reaching over for the smallest one. “I’m Abby. As you probably guessed, I’m your new bodyguard.” She walks over to you and holds out the bag. You look at her and then at the bag, and then back at her.

“What am I supposed to do with this, Abby?” You cross your arms with a raised brow.

“You’re gonna carry it to my new room for me. I’m a guest in your home.” She raises her eyebrows, waving the bag infront of you signally for you to take it.

You stare at her in disbelief, before laughing bitterly. “You’re right. You’re a guest in my home. So I’m not carrying shit.” You spin on your heel to stomp up the stairs, but she cuts you off by speaking calmly yet firmly.

“Then you can sleep in the dark.”

You turn back around slowly, wearing a frown that creases your brow. How did she know about that?

“I spoke to some previous guards of yours. Said you were terrified of the dark and needed a fire lit in your room every night. Y’wanna sleep in dark? Or you wanna help me carry my bags?”

You stare her down for a moment, weighing out your options. She’d already dominated the conversation by getting your name out of you so easily, and now she was winning again. However, you were exhausted just from one night of restlessly pacing with your light on — too afraid to turn it off and go to sleep. You needed your sleep. That being said, you scowl and snatch the bag from her hand, the leather of it slapping against your leg as you carry it up the spiral stairs.

“Atta girl.”

You clench your jaw.

The week begins, and as do your antics. Abby wasn’t easily wound up, but that only made you want to go ten times harder. She was a bodyguard, not a babysitter — but she was starting to feel like her duties were beginning to cross wires. She knew your game, knew you were aiming for something — she could see the determination in your eyes everytime you’d sass her back. So, she’d play you back. Not give into what you want.

Her first real duty came on a Wednesday when she was lounging in the living room watching some God awful 2000s police chase show, and in came you — tottering on little heels and a skirt so short and tight she could tell the colour of your thong beneath. Not that she was looking, of course.

She leant her arm on the back of the couch, eyes flitting over you as you rummage for the keys that you were sure had been left by the maid on the coffee table. “Going somewhere?” It comes out nearly as a scoff, smirk etched onto her face and it makes you roll your eyes.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Out with my friends. The ones that still talk to me.” You’re distracted, pulling your small handbag back up onto your shoulder when it slides off, free hand feeling around in a decorative bowl for the key set. Abby stares at you for a moment, which — okay, is a little indulgent. She wasn’t being a creep, she could just appreciate that you looked good. Before you could turn to throw a glare her way she was muttering an ‘alright’ and heaving her heavy, toned body up to stand and stretch.

You turn and look at her questioningly and she stops to return your gaze. “What? You think I’m just living here with you for fun? C’mon, if you wanna go let’s go.” She nods towards the door, but stops after a few steps when she hears you snicker.

“No thanks. I’m a big girl.”

She crosses her arms and the smirk that makes you wanna throw darts at her stupid face returns. “That right? You think daddy just hired me to hang out around the house, then?”

You stare at her, pursing your lips before exhaling through your nose wordlessly — walking towards the door in defeat. You just wanted to go out, it had been so long. You’re sure you could just ignore Abby.

She follows behind you, now swinging her car keys round her finger — so smug. “How were you planning on getting to the club? You live in the middle of nowhere.”

“Uber.”

It’s her turn to snicker, opening the front door for you and standing aside as you walk through. “Yeah. Okay. C’mon.”

Screw her. Because now, for some reason she was in your head.

Maybe you just had a few… weaknesses. You always liked your girls on the masc side, on the buff side — but that was a given. Who isn’t attracted to that, right? However, watching hot girls drive was something else, and Abby was being that something else. You know— hand on the back of your seat when she reverses, bicep bulging when she grips the wheel of her sleek car, the lights of the night time traffic illuminating the way her top lip curled upwards a little and bottom lip pouted. You felt a little relief, knowing it was one hundred percent the wine talking. The wine you’d probably drank a little too much of whilst you were getting ready, playing your music and singing along loudly just hoping it was annoying Abby (It wasn’t, she didn’t even hear.)

Ignoring her would start after the car journey you decided.

And you did, for the most part. Abby gave you your space, sitting a few seats away from your group whilst you had your fun — headache inducing squeals and brain numbing chatter over loud music and strong cocktails not quite interesting the blonde. She was driving, and working — so she couldn’t drink, just sat there all night bored out of her mind. She probably should have been monitoring how many drinks you’d had over the night, because soon you were stumbling off your seat to go and dance— and Abby’s hands were itching to pull your skirt down just a little, the hem climbing up to the swell where your thighs meet your ass. She sits back, just watching. She was here to protect you, not be your personal wardrobe malfunction manager — so that’s what she’d do. Sit back and protect.

God, did you always dance like this when you went out?

She felt her fist twitch on the table at the sight of your hips swirling, but she knew that was just a natural gay reaction. She should probably order you a glass of water, so you could sober up and tone down the sluttyness but she figured she’d let you have your fun for now— you may have been too far gone. Abby wished she was holding a beer or something whilst she stared across at the way you were grinding your ass into your friends crotch, the two of you giggling like idiots all hazy eyed from the liquor.

After a while you amble over to her, everything bouncing and spilling out but you clearly don’t give a fuck. Your guard is caught off guard when you come close, alcohol having decimated any concept of personal space as you lean over to speak to her where she’s sat, bent over with your hands splayed on her black jean clad thighs.

She tries to be subtle in the way she eyes you, her tongue peeping between her lips and eyes widening momentarily at the perfect shot of down your top. “I can’t hear you.” She yells over the music. You come closer and nearly topple onto her completely, Abby’s hands by nature resting on the back of your thighs as you now grip her shoulders. Briefly, she wonders if at a glance anyone thinks the two of you are a couple. She shakes it off ‘cos… you’re still a brat. Hot or not.

“I said, can I go to the bathroom or are you gonna follow me?” You pull back to make sure she’s seeing you attempt to pointedly raise an eyebrow at her, something you would have perfected usually if you were sober.

“Take a friend.” She nods to your most sober looking buddy and you shrug happily, pushing off her and grabbing your toilet partner and rushing off. She was kind of glad you were gonna be out of her sight for a moment, needing to cool off.

She wasn’t sure what happened after that. Abby was getting bored and tired, dropping the ball a little bit — and you must have been sneaking drinks from your friends when she wasn’t looking — because suddenly you were way too drunk, barely able to stand. Enough was enough when she watched you stumble over to the bar, heading to assumably get yourself another drink. Abby followed you, gently taking your arm and turning you around.

“Hey, no more. You’re blacked out.”

Your face screws up into this adorable little pout for a moment before the rage kicks in, brow creasing and fists clenching by your side.

“C’n dooo what I waant. Dompt tell meee what to do.” You thud her in the centre of her chest with your finger, slurring enough to the point where Abby was confident the bartender wouldn’t have served you anyway.

“No. Finish up, you need to go home.” She was stern, and as expected — this garnered the worst possible response, baring your teeth like a dog and digging your heels into the ground like you were about to pounce on her. You exploded into noise.

“Nnno! Fuck you you stupid securererty guard I can’t wait to get rid of youn’d be independent this is such buuullshi—” Your rampage was cut short by Abby sighing, squatting, and throwing you over her shoulder. Her free hand came up without thought, tugging your skirt down to not expose you to the world. You thrashed and yelled for a good ten seconds before giving in completely — by standers and your friends laughing as Abby marched you to the exit. You were asleep by the time she reached the car, and briefly woke up when she’d carried you to bed to demand her to light the fire place. The fear of the dark must have ran incredibly deep, interesting — she noted.

Abby thought that maybe you’d appreciate her cutting your drinks off and halting any further plans to embarrass yourself that night— but she came to learn that if she thought you were bad usually, you with a hangover was ten times worse. If waking up to the sounds of your loud upchuck wasn’t bad enough, you were a whiny, angry bitch relentlessly all day.

“I’m not your servant you know. Stop asking me to do things for you.” Abby walked in with a glass of water and Tylenol upon request, being met with a loud groan instead of a ‘thank you’.

“Do you have to fucking yell everything?” You complain, ironically — louder than her.

She was tired by the end of the day, beginning to wonder if the pay was enough to tolerate your brattiness. Abby had gained a reputation for dealing with difficult clients, perhaps diva-esque or ill-mannered, but often it wasn’t anything a stern talking to couldn’t fix, often intimidated by her height and build enough to shut them up after a few quips. You were effortlessly becoming one of, if not the most difficult and tiresome clients to crack, but she was determined. If Abby was anything, she wasn’t a quitter — which is why when your father called to check in on you, she told him you’d been good as gold, which earned her a glare from you when you’d overheard the whole thing on the way to the bathroom.

You were back to your regular level of shitty behaviour the next day, less whiny and more sarcastic and bitchy which she could tolerate. However, after a month had gone by Abby was finding the irritation harder and harder to control— especially since you had developed an ever so charming habit of putting on your headphones every single time Abby tried to tell you to do something or talk to you in general.

“Like I told you, I’m a bodyguard — not a babysitter. Stop leaving your—” She bounded into the room, stopping when she saw you look her in the eye and pull your headphones over your head, pressing play on your screen to start your music. Abby stares for a few seconds, taking a breath, telling herself to walk away. Be a bodyguard and nothing else. She ignores this, wound up— and moves to stand in front of you, clicking her fingers. Cheekily, you point to your headphones — mouthing a faux-apologetic ‘sorry!’. The blonde scoffs, wondering why she’s entertaining this in the first place and reaches up to yank the headphones off your head, but freezes at your sudden wide eyed yelp.

“Don’t touch me I’ll tell my dad and you’ll get fired!” It’s rambled out, fast and premeditated — like you’d thought of it already and had been waiting to put it to use. Abby glances down at your alight screen, noting the music as paused and wonders if you were ever playing music or was just doing this to bother her. She lowers her hand, because — well, she’s not an asshole — instead turning her palm upwards in gesture to hand them over.

“Headphones. Give them to me.”

“No.”

“Give them to me or I’m not lighting the fire in your room tonight.” She stares you down and you sulk, shoulders dropping and brows furrowing in devastation. Abby would have felt bad if you weren’t such a menace.

You stroppily yank the headphones off your head and hand them over, muttering profanities furiously under your breath as you turn away from her, sprawled on the couch. Your guard nods, disappearing to put them away before leaving you be — heading to the kitchen to make her afternoon smoothie. The sound of her chopping fruit sparked rage in you all over again at how at home she had made herself, and after a minute you were storming in again— bare feet slapping the cold tiles.

“Back for more?” Abby is calm now, content as she focuses on slicing into a banana.

“You can’t threaten me with my fears you know, that’s emotional and psychological abuse. You’re taking advantage of my fears to be in control like — like a coward. Trust me I studied psychology out of a book, I know my stuff.” You stand beside her ranting as she raises her eyebrows with a calm smile, nodding as she listens and finishes up chopping her fruit, beginning to load them into the— your blender.

“Oh? Smart girl then huh?” She teases and you huff, jutting your chin in the air confidently with an ‘mhm’ before hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen island counter, deciding to stick around for a while to pester her.

“Very. You could probably learn a thing or two from me.”

Abby twists her body half around in amusement, a mocking expression of being impressed adorning her attractive face. She closes the lid to the blender, keeping one hand on it as she speaks.

“‘That so? Go ahead, tell me what possibly I could learn from you, smart girl.”

Ignoring how ‘smart girl’ made you feel in your underwear, you only a manage a “Well first of all—” before she’s turned the blender on, the loud whirring masking any sound coming from you despite your attempts to yell over it for a few seconds. She nods teasingly, as if she was listening to what you were saying and you huff, giving up. You were usually a master in being annoying, but Abby was giving you a run for your money.

You hop back off the counter, muttering a ‘Big blonde stupid asshole.’ as you storm out the room and Abby lets go of the blend button, snickering to herself and yelling out a non committal ‘I heard that!’ after you.

The following day she had taken you to buy groceries after you’d complained that you’d wanted to do it yourself — Abby, following you around as you loaded up your cart, every so often remembering your duty to annoy her and hitting her with something along the lines of ‘I want my headphones back.’ which would be met with a disinterested ‘Tough luck.’ on her end. You couldn’t believe that she’d been living in your home for one month and you still hadn’t gotten under her skin. Perhaps that’s why the next day you’d let your guard down.

It was the first sunny day of March, the grassy hills in which the mansion sat on still harbouring that frosty bite to the air from winter — but pink blossoms had began to spring on the bushes and trees and the sky was blue, which instantly lifted your mood just that little bit.

You were curled by the large window that morning, still in your pyjamas and holding a mug beneath your chin, gazing out at the bright grass. When Abby had entered the room, she was surprised to hear you gently comment that “The weathers nice today.” — a rare sentence that wasn’t defying or insulting her. Abby looked over to you, noting your peaceful demeanour and deciding to carefully toe the line.

“Do you wanna… go outside today?” She suggested, something the two of them could possibly do together. She almost grimaced, waiting for you to curse her out like usual but instead you paused quietly for a few seconds before responding.

“I can introduce you to the horses.” With that, you hopped off the window seat and disappeared to get dressed. When you returned, your hair was in tidier condition and you wore a dress made for summer with only a thick knit cardigan over the top. She itched to tell you it was still way too cold to dress like that, but figured she didn’t wanna aggravate you before you’ve even made it out the door. Today was the day Abby would get through to you.

You were quieter than usual, assumably worn out and in higher spirits due to the sunshine. You’d received the horses as a gift on your sixteenth birthday — but due to the cold weather and outright depression you hardly rode them anymore, instead making sure they lived a healthy and luxurious life on your land and fed the best foods by their handler (mainly out of guilt.) Abby could tell you’d regret your outfit choice as the two of you walked along the pathway through the lush greenery outside, pulling your cardigan tighter around your body, head tilted as you watched the birds fly over the pond.

“What are your horses names?” She conversed lightly, stuffing her large hands into the pockets of her black bomber jacket.

“Cinnamon and blondie.” You answer quietly, before speaking up a few moments later. “Don’t judge the lack of creativity I was sixteen when I picked the names out.”

The pair of you reach the barn and she huffs a quiet chuckle out her nose, watching you pick up a brush as you approached the brown and blonde horses. “Hey, I think those names are perfectly fitting.”

She wasn’t sure why she wanted you to like her so badly all of a sudden. She partially thought it was because if you did you’d make her life and her job easier — but… no, it was more personal than that. You’d deprived her of seeing your pretty smile so much that she felt almost awestruck at the sight of your peaceful and joyful expression as you gently combed Cinnamons mane. She caught herself smiling as she watched.

The two of you talked. Like actually talked without hurling insults or rolling eyes. You sat on the hay, watching as she fed Blondie a carrot. Abby’s teeth were always so white and perfect, perfecting an already perfect smile. Perhaps you were in a good mood, because the thought of calling her perfect didn’t quite irritate you as much as it usually would.

“Have you even ridden a horse?” You’re still bashful about making regular conversation as you pluck at the hay from the bale you sit on.

“Nah.” She shucks off her jacket, the air in the barn balmier and muggier than the outside. It’s hard to not let your eyes flicker down to her strong arms, so you don’t deny yourself.

“Not even as a little girl?” You question and she chuckles a little.

“I didn’t have horse money.” There’s a pitch of longing behind her tone and you tilt your head, wondering about her upbringing. She senses your inquisition and glances up at you as she continues to stroke the horse. “I didn’t have much money for pretty much my whole life. It was actually why I got into the bodyguard industry. Good pay.” She shrugs one shoulder like it was nothing.

“Did you get to go to public school? Like in the city?” You lean forward with your elbows on your knees, chin balanced on your palms in intrigue. The way you said it sparked some amusement in her, ‘get to go to public school’. Like to you it was some sort of luxury.

“Yep. Got the bus everyday too.” Her eyebrow twitches up with a smirk, turning to walk towards you with her jacket in her hand. Whilst she expects you to pick up on her playful tone and perhaps roll your eyes, you continue to stare up at her in awe— an air of innocent curiosity around you that made her suddenly fight the urge to run a thumb over your cheek. She stood over you, placing her jacket by your side and you preened a little at how big she looked above you like that. Part of you felt mad at yourself for having developed a crush, knowing it was interfering with your plans — but you were touch starved. Really touch starved, so you allowed yourself a little yearning for your strict but not so strict bodyguard.

You clear your throat before speaking quietly. “You’re so lucky.”

At this, she scoffs, dropping down to sit beside you. Your skin felt a little warmer when her thigh pressed up next to yours.

“I wouldn’t say that. Would have traded lives with you in a heartbeat.”

You turn to her with a frown. “My life was boring. I didn’t get to do sneaky, crazy teenager things. I went to a small private school and had my small group of friends there and… we couldn’t do anything without dumb bodyguards riding my coattail. The only time we got privacy was in the girls bathroom, and even then if we took too long they’d come knocking.” You complain, pushing your shoe into the gravel.

“Oh, I see. So you didn’t get to be a bratty teenager so you’re making up for lost years now.” She spoke it with a smile, but assumes she took it too far as along came your infamous eye roll, shuffling away from her on the seat as the irritation snuck back in.

“I am not a brat.”

“And I’m not your bodyguard.” She challenges gently with a smile, nudging her knee against yours. You look at her with a stubborn pout and her smile doesn’t falter. “You’re not really a brat. I can bet you’re a sweet girl that just wants attention so you’re acting out.” Didn’t your father say she was supposed to be tough? Please. You say nothing. Your heart races in your chest but you’re too stubborn to say a word. Maybe you’d let your guard down too much. Roll your eyes again, that’ll do it.

After a moment you look away, not because you were still mad but more so because you were flustered. Sweet girl rung around your head like church bells.

“I know you wanna get rid of me.” She begins and you tense up a little. Way to ruin a nice morning.

“And?”

“I know why. You think you wanna be independent and get away from your parents. You have this… idea of living on your own in the city. Am I right?”

You’re prideful, facing away from her with your chin up. “You’re not wrong.”

She sighs out a little chuckle, shaking her head as she leans forward with her elbows resting on her thighs, head turned towards your profile. “You don’t want that life. Trust me. I’ve lived it and it’s hard.”

“Whats hard is having no freedom, no social life, being followed constantly because no one trusts you to make sensible adult decisions.” You snap at her, turning to look her in the eye.

“So you talk to your dad, try and see eye to eye. Not just… pack up and move out like you’re running away to the circus.” She reasons, like it’s just that simple. Her eyes dart across your face as she sees the rage build, infuriated by the assumption that your father was at all the type to negotiate.

“Theres no just talking to my father, Abby. This is it. This is my life unless I get out of here. I can’t live this way forever.” You raise your voice a little, frustrated at her lack of understanding. “I don’t know what your parents are like, but I’m sure you wouldn’t get it.”

She smiles in that way that people smile when they’re mad or upset, tilting her head down to look at her hands for a moment as she inhaled, shaking her head with a speechless chuckle when she exhaled. “I never knew my mom, and my dad died when I was sixteen. I don’t have the luxury of arguing with my dad like you do. Sorry.” She sarks and your face drops, which sparks a little guilt in that secretly soft heart of hers — because truthfully there was no way you could have known, and she could tell by your face you were immediately mortified. You stumble for words after a moment.

“Look. I can’t forgive my father for practically imprisoning me. We… we have a complicated relationship and I think we always will. He says he cares and then does nothing but ruin my life. But… he’s still my dad. No one should ever have to go through losing their father, especially not at that age. I’m… I’m sorry Abby. I can’t imagine what that’s like.” You speak quietly and she listens, an unreadable expression on her face as she does so. When you finish, her eyebrows flicker up ever so slightly.

“Huh.” She breathes, quietly.

“What?” You furrow your brows, sympathetic expression lingering.

“So you are capable of basic empathy. I had no idea.” She let’s a smile slip and your face drops into one of deadpan.

“Bye.” You go to stand up but she laughs and grips your arm, her strong but somewhat affectionate hand not allowing you to leave her side. You sigh with an irritated pout, facing away from her again. When her chuckles die down, she speaks again, her hand staying wrapped around the flesh of your arm.

“So what’s your plan then. You inevitably get me fired, you move into the city by yourself and then what. Where are you gonna work? You won’t be able to afford living in an apartment by yourself so who are you gonna live with?” She fires at you, realising she’s still gripping your arm and letting her fingers trail down a little before leaving your skin all together. You hate how it leaves goosebumps in her wake.

“I’ll use my family name to get me a job somewhere. As for roommates I’m not too sure, I suppose I’ll have to start looking online.” You smirk, glancing at her out the corner of your eye. “Perhaps I’ll just find a girlfriend first who will let me move in with her.”

The mention of a girlfriend makes heat prickle behind Abby’s ears. She had a sixth sense for these kind of things, most of the time able to tell when someone preferred the company of the same sex — mainly down to her own preferences, and she could tell almost immediately with you. However, it was always pleasurable to get the confirmation that she was infact, once again correct.

“Oh yeah? You think anyone else is gonna put up with that princess attitude but me? You better start working on your game.” She jests, and the mention of her tolerating your princess ways caused you to bite down a little on your bottom lip.

“What, you’re saying you’re not charmed by me?” You joke back for once, turning to face her to bat your eyelashes. She chuckles softly, eyes lingering on you for a moment too long before looking away and pushing herself up to stand by pressing her hands into her knees with a quiet grunt.

“Can’t say the insults and tantrums did it for me. Good luck to you though.” She allows a smirk to flit back onto her pouty lips before she thrusts a hand out, allowing you to take it so she could help you up, once again proving to you both that she was actually more than happy to tolerate that princess attitude she speaks of so poorly.

By the next day, your head is back in the game. All this talk of moving out set you straight, and whilst bonding with Abby in the barn certainly set you multiple steps back — you were back to your old self in no time, dead set on getting her to budge so that you could be free’d from your fathers watchful eye.

You eye your search bar on Google, sprawled on your front on your bed with your laptop open infront of you, having just typed ‘Roommates for sale backspace Roommates in the city friendly and not weird’. As you scrolled through the unhelpful results, your door opened — Abby standing in your doorway.

“Jesus do you ever fucking knock?” You curse, glaring up at where she stands in the doorway wearing her usual tight black tshirt and thick belted cargos and boots.

“Good to see you’re back to your usual self.” She sarks with a dramatic eye roll as she leans on her hip, refocusing (which took an extra second because you’re just wearing a little skirt and top today and lying on your front is making her think things.) “I’ve gotta go get my car serviced so I’m dropping it off at the garage thirty minutes away. You think you can survive an hour without me here?”

You’re not looking at her, continuing to scroll as you wave her off with just a distracted mumble causing her to shake her head and tsk followed by a chuckle as she pushes off her feet, disappearing down the hallway. “I won’t be too long. Stay out of trouble, smart girl.” She calls to you, before you eventually heard the sound of the front door shutting and then her car rumbling around the fountain infront of the entrance and out of the large iron gates. Finally, some peace and quiet.

However, after around thirty-five minutes, you had to admit you’d grown bored. You were home alone, and the room-mate search was coming to just about nothing so you had given up all together for the time being. You flop onto your back on the bed, huffing. Where you’d usually get up with the boredom and go to bother Abby until she argues back — you couldn’t. So, you figured you’d turn to the next best thing, listening to music whilst you do a light work out.

You didn’t like working out when Abby was home, because — as if she were a moth to a flame, she couldn’t help herself from interjecting and gym-rat-splaining everything you’re doing wrong and how to improve. The last time she walked in on you doing pilates, you nearly chucked a weight at her head because she started dishing out unwarranted advice. You knew she did it just to bother you, wearing that shit eating grin on her face when she’d lift a bicep and flex it, stating that it was ‘living proof that you should listen to me.’

You thought also that maybe a workout would help burn off some of the… frustration you woke up with. Perhaps it was the tension ridden barn conversation the two of you shared yesterday, a reminder of your starvation for touch, maybe you just had a load of tempting dreams that you weren’t remembering — but you woke up with your cunt aching and hungry to be filled. You figured this was the real reason behind your bad mood returning with such a vigour, and you couldn’t get yourself off, not wanting to give Abby the satisfaction of walking in (without knocking, no doubt) on you with your legs splayed out and fingers deep inside your wanting hole, probably accidentally moaning her name— or whatever. You couldn’t say the thought of doing so didn’t make things worse though.

When you rolled off the bed and onto your feet, you took a moment to collect yourself at the frustration of remembering that Abby still had your God-damn headphones somewhere, having stashed it away due to you using it as a prop to taunt her. You cursed her out, and then cursed yourself out for getting your beloved headphones confiscated before sighing. If Abby wanted to invade your privacy by not knocking, and taking away your personal items — you could invade her privacy by going into her room and searching for them. Perhaps you could even return them before she was back.

It seemed like a sound plan, so you padded down the hallway until you were met with the door to the guest bedroom where she had been residing. You push the door open, for some reason your stomach twisting in excitement at the small thrill of being sneaky— something you rarely got to experience. The room was clean and tidy, and smelt like her. You push further into the room, looking around and spotting a few of the black shiny duffel bags she’d brought along with her — the rest of her things assumably packed away into the closets. You kneel, unzipping the first.

Your hand sticks inside, rustling about only to be met with metal plated weights and an exercise mat. You huff, zipping it back up and trying the next one. You spot them instantly inside, but tsk when you struggle to pull them out — the headband portion of the listening device tangled with something else. You pull them both out, pulling them apart as you do so and gasp when you realise what you’re holding. A strap on. A harness with a dildo attached.

You drop it, nearly falling onto your back like a spider had just leapt out at you— your eyes widening. Placing your headphones aside slowly, you lift it again — observing it. Why on Earth did she have that with her? Your heart jumped slightly in jealousy, wondering if she was planning on bringing someone over and using it on them. Was she fucking someone, just a few doors down from you? In a moment of sick depravity and curiosity, you slowly bring the shaft beneath your nose— inhaling to smell if there were any… remnants of usage, or at best cleaning products to signify it had been used and cleaned. Your face feels hot in shame as you do so, and it just smells like new plastic. It looked new too. You pull it back, looking at it. It hadn’t been used at all.

“God, Abby.” You whisper as you turn it side to side, harness tickling your leg as you grip the girth of it. It was black and shiny like everything else she owned, roughly 7 inches with veins and thick— just as you expected from the broad bodyguard. There were balls attached too, and you run your fingertips over them gently, lightly pressing down to feel it’s texture. As you do so, translucent white liquid gathers at the tip of the dildo, a small trail of it running down the side of the shaft obscenely. You gasp lightly again as your cunt clenches hard without warning. A breeding strap, now you had only ever seen those in porn videos from your phone screen late at night with a hand down your pyjama shorts.

You’d been fucked with a strap before, of course. You’d had been allowed romantic relationships in the past, and your parents of all things were surprisingly cool with the gay thing. Of course, your father had to background check them first and practically set up play dates with their family (Undoubtably another wealthy family) However, the times you’d experienced with them were all short lived, fumbly and overall incompatible. It was clear that you and your past two partners were there purely to experience some sort of relief from their sexual frustration — which resulted in just rolling around the bed whilst your parents dined together downstairs, them gliding their smaller strap in your tight pussy as you clumsily rut against eachother. The experiences were somewhat fun and naive, but you never got to cum or experience real pleasure and satisfaction.

Oh but Abby, you could tell she had to have experience. She had been out there in the world, seasoned and a few years older than you — and when you look like that, with that kind of body, there was no way she wasn’t having girls in and out her apartment door like some kind of cock carousel.

You felt your wet folds pulsing with need to be touched, and you bit your lip — wondering how much time you had as it seemed to have majorly escaped you. The idea of fucking yourself with your bodyguards strap without her knowing had you wetter than you cared to admit from just your own daydreams in your bed, and you’d decided fuck it, consider it pay back for putting a dent in your plans.

You were squatted on the ground still, but now your skirt and panties were draped messily on the sleek wooden flooring by your side — excitedly holding the strap by the dildo wearing just a tight little crop top and nothing else like you were Winnie the fucking Pooh. It was humiliating in the way that made you reach down, checking and confirming that your slick had gathered across your lower region— pent up and built up from the past few hours of general frustration.

You had no idea how that beast was meant to fit inside of you, but you’d grown desperate — eagerly pulling it downwards and hovering over it, smearing the pearly liquid from the tip around in your slick as the harness clattered against the floor. You let out a sigh, only to realise you were trembling from the adrenaline of doing something you shouldn’t. Biting back an excited grin, you push in slightly — the stretch making you wince, brows furrowing. You let out a harsh breath, whispering ‘Fuck’ to yourself as you do so, just the tip stretching you beyond what you’ve ever taken before. You balance on the flats of your feet, toes curling against the ground and eyes squeezing shut as you try and push in further, the thickness making you quietly cry out, unable to take it properly.

Tears sprung to your eyes, half at the stretch and half in frustration at the inability to fit it inside of you. “C’mon, please.” You whine quietly to no one, walls spasming around the plastic, which now was slick with your arousal dripping down it. You were beyond turned on, to the point where you were starting to feel a little pathetic. You tried to ease up, reaching down to rub your clit to help you along as you take a deep breath, mind trying to ease itself — visions of Abby touching you instead of your own hand, moaning quietly and frustratedly at the thought of her strapping you.

You try and push it deeper, and it seems like your walls are about to let up — but the door flies open and so do your eyes. Your world comes crumbling down in humiliation, your ears ringing and face burning hot; Abby stands before you, eyes wide and jaw slack with pink cheeks.

Your first thought is to pull the dildo out, and the size of it makes you let out a quiet pained whine as you do so. She’s frozen, and the rage takes over you. It’s the most comfortable emotion in a situation like this.

“I told you to knock!” You yell, grabbing your skirt and throwing the dildo to the ground.

“This— this is my room!” Her voice is high and defensive, still processing what she just saw as everything happened so quickly. You pull your skirt up and grab your panties off the floor and to make the embarrassment worse — you burst into tears before you’ve made it out the door, storming past her and slamming the door to your room. The final blow was realising you’d left the headphones behind.

Abby watches you until you’re out of sight before turning her head slowly back to the strap on laying abandoned on the floor, a single drip of what looks like your arousal beside it. Jesus, she thinks, letting out a long sigh and running her hand over her face as she enters the room fully — letting the door shut behind her. She slowly lowers herself into a squat, thick thighs bulging in her cargos as she inspects the scene. Abby lifts the harness, before grabbing the dildo by the suction end and sucking in a hitched breath at how you’d soaked it only a little way down. Your poor pussy, she thinks as her lower region warms guiltily at the imagery now the shock had worn off. “Was a good attempt.” She mutters to herself, tossing the dildo onto her bed and sighing, standing up and stroking beneath her chin in thought. She worries, wonders what you must have thought about her seeing that she’d brought a strap on into your home. You must’ve thought she was some kind of perv, right? How was she supposed to bring you back from this?

As you lay face down on your bed, crying embarrassed tears for an hour straight— you wonder if it would have been less embarrassing if Abby had followed you into your room rather than leaving you to storm off on your own. She probably didn’t want to see you, or speak to you for the matter of fact. You sit up, wiping your cheeks furiously — if that were the case, you had the right to be mad at her. It was her fault, she took your headphones which spiralled into this whole thing. Was it better to let things fizzle out and be awkward? You couldn’t think of anything worse, so you finally rose to your feet again, cleaning up your appearance with your jaw clenched before storming back down the hallway. You were going to finish this, and make her leave for good.

You didn’t bother to knock, because when did she bother? You pushed the door open so hard it bang loudly against the wall, and Abby turned around from her dresser — going through some envelopes, totally unphased.

“I’m taking my headphones!” You practically holler, an accusatory finger pointed right at her. She places the envelope aside as she leans against the dresser crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.

“Okay.”

“And my father will be receiving a call! Yes, I will call him and tell him that you’re rude, you push boundaries, and you don’t ever fucking knock on any door!” You raise your voice even louder, counting off your fingers as she stares at you.

“Again, this is my room and I didn’t know you were in here.” She explains slowly like you were stupid, which only enrages you more.

“This is my house!” You shriek, waving your hands and she pushes off the dresser, stepping towards you.

“Is it?” She frowns. “Do you even pay any rent?”

You falter for just a second, but it’s enough for her to see and nearly smile, which only builds your emotion. “This is my families house. On your very first day here you said that you were a guest in my house, so act like one. My. House.” You step closer to meet her in the centre of the room, eyes boring up into hers as she watched you, unimpressed, tongue in her cheek.

She couldn’t lie, you were hot when you were mad. Infuriating, sure. But hot. Hot in the way where she wanted to shut you up, make you cum until you weren’t fighting back — just babbling aimlessly, frown fully melted from your face. Fuck you until you learnt a lesson. The thought made her stand up a little straighter.

“Yeah?” She tilts her head daringly, and enraged you step up closer, bodies nearly touching just so you could yell in her face.

“My. Hou—” You go to repeat yourself for emphasis but you’re cut off by the feeling of her hand gripping your cheeks, smushing them. When she speaks, it’s calm and menacing. You stare up at her wide eyed.

“You’re not gonna talk to me like that. You’re embarrassed, sweet girl — and I feel for you, but don’t you ever yell in my face like that. You understand me?” She tilts her head further, eyes on you. You’re humiliated, knees knocking into eachother at her calling you sweet girl whilst berating you and you frown, still panting — all hot faced and furious. She uses your cheeks to make you nod and you groan. “Good. If you wanna talk about what happened, let’s talk. But before you come up here and start accusing me of shit, remember that you came in here searching, and you found that,” she turns your face so that you were looking at the strap on laying on the bed. She stays facing you, eyes browsing the side of your face now. Your eyes widen a little at the sight, the memory of using it replaying in your head. “And you decided to use it without asking me.” She steps back a little, eyeing you (not even bothering to hide the hunger anymore). “Okay. Say your piece.” She gestures with her hand and you collect yourself, pulling in a shaky breath.

You admit, the confidence from your tone had vanished. “I was just trying to look for my headphones. I wanted to work out.” You explain and she nods, encouraging you to go on. “You… you brought that into this house, why?” You point at the toy on the bed, the embarrassment starting to slip through again in your pathetic tone of voice.

“Its not your business what I bring with me in my own bag.” Her velvety voice was quick to answer and your brow creased, running out of reasons to shift the blame onto her.

“Well… you can’t bring things like that here it’s — it’s inappropriate.” You internally curse yourself out for stuttering.

“You didn’t seem to have any complaints an hour ago when you were trying to stuff it inside yourself.” She shrugs like she just couldn’t help it from leaving her mouth and in your embarrassment you turn to leave again, walking towards the door. She follows and reaches over your head and shuts it in front of you before you can, grabbing your arm and turning you around so that your back was pressed to it now as she looms over you. “What? Am I wrong?”

“Abby.” You go to complain, but it comes out as a weak whisper.

“Is that why you did it? Maybe you were trying to get caught so you’d have a reason to get all mad and go batshit crazy on me, huh? Still going ahead with that bullshit plan of yours to send me packing?” Abby theorises and you lower your gaze, head tilted towards the ground as you thought. It wasn’t that, you weren’t brave enough. You were genuinely just being disgusting and horny and got yourself caught — which to you was all the more shameful. She knocks your chin up with her knuckle, making you look up at her again. “Or maybe you wanted to get caught so you could be punished. Is that what you wanted? ‘That why you been such a fucking brat?”

“Not a brat.” You huff, though you couldn’t deny it any further than that.

“You know what a brat is? Girls like you,” She poked a finger into your chest. “Who wanna be put in their place so they act out. I’m starting to think that’s just what you need.”

You try and push off the door but she’s blocking you to do so, bodies too close. “Do you really think I’d come in here and yell at you just because I wanna get spanked or whatever?” You bite back, proud of the comeback until she roughly spins you around by the hips so your cheek was pressed to the wooden door, back a little arched. She takes a fist of your skirt and yanks it up, holding it to your lower back making you gasp — fully exposing your bare rear. She chuckles and you wanna die.

“I dunno, didn’t even bother putting on a new pair of panties before coming up in here. Seems to me like you knew what you were doing. Lost the bass in your voice too, smart girl. Where’d all that anger go?” Her hand is gentle when it cups your ass, feeling the meat of it in her hand. You could not believe this was happening. You were mortified. Soaked, but mortified.

You try to fight back with your words, but it’s coming out in little huffs and embarrassed pants at the feeling of her grabbing your ass. “I’m— m’gonna tell — gonna tell on—”

“You’re gonna tell on me?” She snickered. “Are you gonna tell the full story? What you were doing on the floor when I walked in?” She purs in your ear and you can hear her smiling. She’s sick.

You say nothing, because if you’re being honest you’re giving up on your resolve— the feeling of her hands on you just melting your anger away like ice. “No I didn’t think so.”

She gives your ass a light slap, just enough to jiggle it and make you whimper at the suddenness before turning you back around, eyes glancing between yours seriously. “You wanna know what I think?”

You sigh and nod, not trusting your voice at this point.

She gently takes you by the arm and walks you over to the foot of the bed, picking up the strap and holding it. “I think you need to clean my strap for me.”

The way she says it makes you feel hot and bothered, and you go to reach for it to shamefully disappear and wash it in the sink but she holds it out of your reach, raising her eyebrows playfully as she stares you down for a moment. “Not like that.”

She brings the strap down, stepping into the leg holes of the harness before pulling it up and adjusting it to fit her by the hoops at the hip. You watch, trembling — the sight of her standing there with a huge cock something you had only dreamt of, making you squeeze your thighs together. You hated yourself for how weak willed you’d become.

“You can clean it up that smart mouth of yours.” She smiles simply before placing both hands on your shoulders and pushing you down slowly to the ground. She sits too on the edge of the bed, spreading her thighs wide to accommodate to you between them. She wanted you to suck her off? Now that was just degrading. You pursed your lips, trying and failing to ignore the rush of slick seeping from you.

“Abby. Come on.” You whisper and she looks at you for a moment, making you shrink where you were kneeled before leaning forward, gently grasping your chin again, her face millimetres from yours.

“It’s the least you can do.” She threatens before leaning back on her hands, nodding towards her cock. She nearly folds and leans forward to kiss you when she sees the big, sweet, doe eyes you give her — so far removed from your usual glare. If she knew that all she had to do was dom the good girl out of you, her previous month would have been a lot easier.

You gingerly grip the shaft with your hand, bringing your face towards it. God, it smells like you still— to think that only an hour ago you were on the ground trying to shove it inside yourself. Your brows furrow as you kitten lick the top, before suckling on the top with a low moan in your throat gaining confidence. “Good girl.” She praises as you push down a little, sucking harder to the point where you can taste the breeding liquid. You’re not quite sure if it’s meant to be consumed but you don’t care, you don’t care about anything at this point.

You wanna push down further, but you’re struck with a thought and pull off her with a pop— glaring up at her with some of your leftover brattiness.

“What’s that face for?” She hums. You struggle to find your words.

“You… We’re…” You huff, sulkily and she watches the glimmer of longing pass over your face. “You’re making me suck you off and you haven’t even kissed me.” You finally get it out and she smirks, but not totally in a mean way — more so adoringly. Smushing your cheeks again with her hand, she pulls your face in, meeting you in the middle as her cock brushes against your chest as her lips meet yours. It’s a hard, wet, sloppy kiss with your cheeks smushed but it’ll do, and when she pulls off you with a loud smack she roughly rubs her thumb beneath your pouty bottom lip to remove the residual saliva. “Now get back to work.”

She holds back a giggle at the sight of your own pleased smile as you go back down, licking up the sides and cleaning off the plastic — groaning at the residual taste of you clinging to it. This was cruel, wicked even — and you were enjoying it.

“Thats it. Knew I’d be able to find better use for that mouth. Must be tired from running it so much.” Her voice is gentle despite the degradation and it fills your brain with a hazy, muddled fog — not sure how to feel anymore. You pull up for air after taking as much as you can, and as soon as your lips wrap around the dick again, Abby can’t help herself from pressing her hand down on the back of your head gently, muttering a “‘Can do better than that, pretty.” as you gag around her. This seemed to be the first straw in what broke the camels back.

It had dawned on you, half way through sucking her off that after this she was likely just to throw you out on your ass, back to your room to take care of yourself. Getting you on your knees infront of her was her way of winning once and for all, and this was only one last humiliation to shut you up completely. You hadn’t realised you were in your head until Abby was pulling her strap out your mouth, tilting your chin up to her as she leant forward once more. “Hey. Where’d you go just now?”

You try and break away, trying to catch her tip in your mouth again, jaw a little agape and tongue peeping out but she grips your chin more firmly, shaking you a little. “Hey. Look at me.”

“S’nothing Abby. Just lemme—”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” You swallow thickly, shaking your head.

“Then what?”

You suck in a deep breath. “Are you gonna chuck me out after this? Are you… are you only doing this to embarrass me?” She stares at you in perplexity as she watched your mouth turn down, emotions catching up with you as you squeeze your eyes shut — two fat tears sliding down your tears.

“Hey, no.” She’s still a little confused, but she wipes your tears away with the back of her hand anyway. She sighs, pulling you up by the arm and sitting you on her thigh. “Okay. Maybe this kind of thing isn’t for you. That’s okay.”

You wipe your nose, a little calmer and clearer headed now. “I was enjoying it. I think I just… I feel like no one cares about me. It just caught up with me that’s all. We can get back to it.” You go to stand up off her but she holds you tighter, making you look at her.

“I care about you. I stupidly, really care about you.” She speaks sincerely, and you stare at her analytically before realising that she actually truly means it. Abby cares about you.

She pulls you in gently this time, lips locking against yours. It’s not mean, or sarky, or trying to tease you — it’s a real meaningful kiss and you just melt. All that anger, all that competitiveness just melts off you like ice cream on a hot and hazy day. You wrap your arms around her neck, letting her lick into your mouth and dominate your tongue with her own, pulling it in and sucking on it making you shift on her thigh and whimper. You think about grinding down on her thick, cargo covered thighs and how good that might feel after a month of staring at them — but before you can, she’s easing you to lay on your back on the bed.

“Can show you how much I care about you. Maybe we can start over, how’s that sound?” She whispers into the space below your ear, pressing a wet kiss there and you let out a shaky huff, nodding. “Gonna need your words though. That’s how this works, sweet girl.”

“Please show me.”

“Like that, good job.”

Her hands look large, but they feel even larger — especially when they’re beside eachother, running up beneath your top— fingertips brushing over your hard nipples as she tests the waters, smiling against your skin when your back arches up into her, a sensitive whine quietly passing your lips. She slowly drags up your top, pushing herself down your body to pepper kisses down the centre of your chest, letting out a quiet groan of her own when she grips your tit with her hand, massaging the plush flesh. “M—outh” You choke out in a pleasured haze and she chuckles, eyebrows jumping up in amusement as she adjusts her position.

“Should have known you’d know exactly what you want.” She teases before flattening her tongue over the bud of your nipple, pulling back to blow cold air on it to harden it making you wince sensitively. The smile barely leaves her when she dips down, wrapping her pouty pink lips around the bud and sucking, soothing her tongue over it and digging her teeth in ever so slightly, letting them scrape over your nipple when she pulls away. “Fuck, so pretty.” She grits her teeth, reaching up and grabbing it in her hand again letting it jiggle beneath her palm.

You buck your hips again, which directs her attention to your lower regions — forcing her to depart from your breast to continue her journey down your body. She sits up, both hands encasing your waist, rubbing thumbs into your lower ribs gently. “Anyone ever eat your pussy?”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the bold question and your eyes flutter open, not quite remembering when you closed them. “No.”

She grins, like that was just the answer she was after and climbs back down— kissing your stomach and then flipping your skirt up so she could kiss your pubic mound. You shiver, a little insecure but filled with desire more than anything as her hands slide up between your legs. “Open these up for me.” She whispers, and her hot breath wafts over your needing cunt when she reveals it, pulling back to look at it.

You feel your chest and face get hot as she stares— dark eyed and hungry straight at your most private area. “So fucking pretty.” She whispers, thumbs sliding either side of your fat lips and pulling them apart, her brows furrowing. “You always get this wet? Jesus.”

You don’t answer, because you don’t quite have the guts to tell her that you don’t remember the last time someone had aroused you this much, to the point where it’s taken over your body and brain entirely.

She leans in, and you expect her tongue to dart out first — but she spits, directly on your clit making you jolt with a whimper, then chasing it up with the flat of her tongue as her thick arms wrap around your thighs, jaw practically unhinging as she starts eating you like her life depends on it.

You moan, loudly and with less shame as time passes now, grinding your hips up into her face — which she matches by pinning them back down to the bed, only pulling away to briefly grab a cushion from the bed and slot it beneath your hips to elevate you slightly — so fast and expertly you barely realise she’s done it before she’s back to mouthing at your crotch.

“Feels so good!” You whine and she chuckles against you, the vibration of which sends shockwaves through to your stomach. “Need you to fuck me.” You mutter, more to yourself but she acknowledges it anyway, the hands that were massaging your hips sliding between your thighs.

“If you want to take my cock I’m gonna need to prep you. You saw yourself, s’never gonna fit with how tight you are right now.”

With this new information, you feel her finger tips sliding through your soaked folds gently as she suckles on your clit relentlessly. You whine, trying your best not to clamp down when she slides in her finger, and then another. You were in heaven, panting up to the ceiling as she fingerfucks you, l your hand sliding down to encase itself in her golden hair — glowing from the sunset streaming in through the window.

She moans as she tastes you, brows furrowed and eyes clamped shut like she could feel every movement of her tongue herself. “Gonna give you one more okay? Need to stretch you— still so fucking tight.” She speaks against you and all you can do is nod, in fact at that point you’d probably let her do anything she wanted to you. It was such a relief to drop the act, to just relax and let her take care of you.

A third finger prods at your entrance and you wince as she slowly slides it in, looking up at you to watch your expression — brows pinching and eye twitching at the feeling, walls wrapping tightly round her thick fingers. “There you go, pretty girl. Took that like a champ.” She kisses your hip bone before getting back to work, slowly and experimentally fucking her three fingers in and out, curling them up to grind against your upper gummy inner wall.

“Feel like I’m gonna cum, Abby it’s — it’s so much.” You shake, toes curled so hard they’d gone white and she hums kindly against you, pulling off your clit again with a loud spitty pop.

“I know baby, I know. Let it out.” She whispers, rushed and syrupy like she was too on the precipice of a moan. She moves her tongue in quick successions around your clit as you start to buck and ride against her fingers, a clammy sound matching this — your wetness creating music against her knuckles as you fuck against them. “Cum, smart girl, cum.”

You do, and you’re so full it’s like there’s nowhere for the cum to go — and therefore you feel like you might explode, suddenly letting out loud cries and whines as you shake and jerk on the bed, only to be held down by Abby’s strong arms. She moans too, because you’re dripping down her wrists and her chin — seeming to have a never ending quantity of cum as she laps it up. You taste exactly how she thought you would.

You can’t even tell she’s stopped because your legs are still violently shaking for a minute, coming down from your orgasm felt like it would never end— but you were grounded by the feeling of Abby’s lips on your cheek, sliding her hands under your back to hold you. “I know, it’s okay. Good job.” She cooes into your hair, silencing your nonsensical babbles. She doesn’t push you to move onto the next thing, just stroking your skin and pressing her lips to your skin until you were calm.

Abby feels tugging down below, and looks down between your bodies to see your hand wrapped around her shaft, tugging towards you as your legs fall open again limply. She winces like she can feel it, and she swears she can when you lazily run your thumb over the tip that had drizzled some of the pearlescent liquid out from all the movement. She watches you play with the spillage between your fingers, before bringing it to your puffy cunt, spreading it through your folds and whimpering at the sensitivity.

“Shit, babe.” She sighs out, the room feeling suddenly much warmer. “You wanna continue?”

“Mhm. Was prepping to take you, remember?” You brush the loose strand from her braid hanging over her cheek out of her face. The gesture is intimate, like two lovers who have been together for a while. You almost feel embarrassed again but she turns her cheek and kisses your palm.

She nestles the pads of her fingers into your folds again, sliding around in your arousal and you sigh out at the sensitivity, the urge to be filled returning from its brief satisfaction. “Well you’re definitely wet enough.” She smirks in disbelief, and you can’t believe that there was a time where you would have rolled your eyes at such comments — now only doe eyed and lip bitten as your legs fall open wider. Her fingers are replaced by her strap, sliding up and down — collecting your wetness along it, a whimper leaving you when the tip nudges against your swollen clit.

“Think you’re ready for me?” She asks and before she’s even finished the sentence you moan out a quick and desperate ‘yes!’ making her laugh, keeling into herself with her chin to her chest for a moment. She looks cute and you want to kiss her again. In due time, you think. “How long has it been since you last got fucked?” She continues sliding her strap up and down. Abby secretly thinks she’s stalling, because she wants this closeness to last.

You shake your head breathlessly, trying to clear the fog in order to answer her simple question. Why was she asking questions at a time like this?

“Like — nine months maybe a year?” You answer and she nods, understandingly.

“It’s no wonder you’re so tight. This is gonna be quite a squeeze, yeah?” She looks you deep in your eyes, like she did every time she wanted you to really listen.

“I know, s’okay.” You breathe, and at this she takes your hand in her larger one.

“S’gonna be big. You can squeeze my hand if you want. Deep breath in.” She instructs and you slowly inhale as she pushes in, your hand squeezing hers as you clench around her thick length.

The “Fuck” you let out in a breathy groan is obscene and borderline pornagraphic, which makes Abby fight the urge to bottom out completely and shove her cock inside you fully all at once, but she’s patient, her breath hitching as she reassures you.

“I know, I know.” is all she can say as she pushes in further.

“W—wait.” You tense up a little and she freezes with no hesitation, letting you adjust to the stretch as she drops kisses onto your jaw until you were ready. This happened a couple of times, and she’d oblige to your wishes each time you halt her until she was fully seated inside you.

You felt like the air had been punched out of you, Abby was so deep. “Hows that?” She whispers.

“So big.” You mewl.

“Taking it so well. See, we got it all in the end.” She praises, quiet and gleeful watching you blissed out beneath her.

“Y’not getting paid enough for this, he’s not paying you enough to deal with me.” You babble into her shoulder in regards to her deal with your father, legs trembling around her hips.

“You kidding me? He’s paying me to fuck his daughters pretty pussy, think I’ll be okay.” She scoffs into your neck, sucking wet kisses into the skin there, hips still not moving as you adjust.

“S’not why he’s paying you.” Your nose turns up and she chuckles before lifting her face to hover right above yours, lips occasionally brushing. She begins to move her hips and you both gasp at the feeling.

“How about… instead of arguing with me… you shut up and take my fucking strap.” She whispers temptingly and you go limp again, apart from your hips which twitch against her movements letting her grind her strap in and out of you slowly.

“Oh my god!” You cry, letting go of her hand to wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her into you to connect your lips. She lets you whimper against her and suck on her bottom lip whilst she concentrates on finding that angle. She knows she’s struck gold when your legs jerk around her before your heels dig into her ass.

“Faster please Abby, please faster!” You sound deranged, at the point she wanted you all along — cockdrunk and desperate without a care in the world. She clenches around nothing at the thought of just keeping you this dumb all the time.

She speeds up on command, hips smacking against you now as she pulls away to watch the way your tits bounce beneath her. “Oh baby, you’re fucking taking it.” She pants, impressed at how quickly you’ve allowed her to really go in on you. She reaches between you to rub your clit and you squeal, tears springing to your eyes. “Yeah? Want me to rub it? S’it that good, pretty girl?”

“Yes! Please! I— I can’t Abby it’s too — Abby please I wanna— need to cum!” Your hands are curled into her t-shirt adorably which only makes her go harder, practically punching the sounds out of you like a squeaky toy each time she thrusts. You feel yourself teetering over the edge once more, abused pussy relentlessly sucking her in with obscene wet noises attached. Before you can release, your hand reaches down to cup the balls of the strap. “Want it inside, please Ab— please want it inside me—” You ramble and she catches on, and as you tense up, letting out a pained whine as you cum, she slides her hand on top of yours, pressing down to empty the cum lube inside you. The feeling of the warm liquid spurting against your cervix makes you shake, sobbing uncontrollably suddenly as you ride it out.

“There you go, good fucking girl. You like that don’t you? Fuck, letting me breed you like this the first time we fuck? You dirty fucking girl. Such a pretty fucking girl.” She’s babbling too, unravelled by the beauty that was you cumming the way you did. She knew she was good at fucking, but to make someone cry like that was driving her insane.

You’re floating when she pulls out, the two of you breathless and fucked out. Effortlessly, she pushes her hands under your arms and drags you further up the bed until you’re laying against the pillow and she drops down besides you, pulling you into her chest, t-shirt slightly damp with sweat. You listen to her heart thundering in her chest, and it lulls you into a sleepy and relaxed zone, pulling your thigh up over her hip with her help, her thumb stroking the crease where your ass and thigh connects.

“Did so good. The sounds you make are so pretty.” She whispers like she was trying to lull you to sleep. You shift, breath stammering in your throat and nearly choking you when your used pussy glides over her shaft— the veins and ridges catching against your clit making your hips jerk on her, unable to stop yourself from slowly and feverishly rubbing down on her as you breathe heavily in the quiet room.

“Want more, sweet girl?” She cooes, hand running down the back of your head to cup it lovingly.

“Too sore.” It comes out muffled into her t-shirt, aimlessly rocking your hips.

“That’s alright. Just keep… keep doing this.” She relaxes into the bed, kissing your forehead and letting you please yourself, grinding into the mixture of your juices and the fake cum soaking the both of your lower halves. It was messy and bordering on gross, but made your needy clit throb all the more. You were truly insatiable. Had it really been that long?

She sighed in pleasure at the feeling of you grinding against her, the position making her harness press deliciously into her own clit, pleasing you both. Perhaps she too could get off from this.

The sun had gone in, and the room had grown dark. But this time, you weren’t afraid — infact the growing inkiness of the sky was the last thing on your mind— safe, warm and dumb in Abby’s strong arms.

Maybe you’d let her stick around.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Wary Sailor Pt. 2 | Matthew Joy x fem!reader

summary: Second Mate Matthew Joy goes out on a whale hunt and even after a successful chase, he can't seem to feel satisfied. Something's weighing heavily on his mind. While alone in the harpoon boat, trouble comes to call.

warnings: Aiming a gun at someone, talk of violence, smut, oral (F receiving), penetration, dubious consent (weird circumstances), unprotected sex, Matthew's abandonment issues lol.

word count: 2763k+

Tucumcari- Goodnight, Texas 🎶

Lady May- Tyler Childers 🎵

Note: The lyrics that I included are from the old whaling song Maid of Amsterdam.

*Pt. 3 (and maybe 4???) coming soon!

The men were deployed into the smaller whaling boats, each boat armed with a harpoon and dense cord. Matthew stood at the back of his boat to steer it away from the ship, navigating the aggravated water. He forced himself to think about the whales, keeping his mind inside the boat… but the girl’s eyes appeared like stars in the corner of his vision at all times. 

“Joy!” One of the rowers was yelling at him, snapping him out of his trance. “Joy, focus! Don’t go soft on us all of a sudden, eh?” 

Matthew grimaced as the grisly sailor chuckled. He steered them out to open water, following the Captain's boat as per his orders. While he couldn’t see their bodies in the water, Matthew could hear the loud vibrations of sound the Sperm whales made as they spoke to one another. He could also hear Owen yelling out commands to his men. The harpoonist prepared his weapon. Matthew directed his man to do the same. 

“Steady now!” He advised his men as they waited for movement below the surface. Striking the whale was simple compared to the rest of the exhausting process. Matthew just planned on keeping his men alive but whale oil was also a necessity that he was willing to sacrifice for. He wasn’t a greedy man by any means, he’d lived in poverty all his life. His life was whaling and he didn’t spend much time off the ocean, the stillness made him restless. 

“There she blows!” A man yelled and Matthew peered over the edge as the side of his boat rose out of the water, stuck on the back of an adolescent whale. As he looked over, the distinct silhouette of a woman wavered beneath the surface. Choosing to ignore it, Matthew swung the boat over to allow the harpooner to cast his weapon. 

“Go, go, go!” He barked, spit flying from his mouth as he waved the man on. The harpoon sailed through the sky, landed in the water like a seabird, and missed. The whale diverted away from Matthew’s boat and found itself trapped beside Owen’s. The mother whale broke the surface nearby, distracting the men to the real prize. Matthew steered his boat away as the other men helped reel in the harpoon’s cord. The harpooner aimed and threw. 

…

It was evening when the whale was secured by chains to the deck of the ship. The whale was so large she had to rest in two different places, one on the ship’s deck and the other in Matthew’s boat. The men aboard wrapped rags around their noses to cover the smell. Matthew just grimaced and rubbed the sockets of his eyes. The darkening landscape helped relieve some of his headache. The other men were already aboard the Essex, only he was left to watch over the end of the whale, saving it from sharks and other predators. He could hear the men singing as they did their work, scraping the fat from the inside of a giant. He hummed along to the song they were singing together.

A roving, a roving

Since roving's been my ru-i-in

I'll go no more a roving

With you fair maid! 

Movement in the water drew his mind away from the song. Ripples expanded across the surface where something had just been. Matthew drew his rifle from the floorboards and checked the chamber for bullets. He watched the surface carefully for the distinct fins of sharks. 

I put my hand upon her thigh

Mark well what I do say!

I put my hand upon her thigh

She said young man ‘That’s rather high’

I'll go no more a roving with you fair maid!

Matthew cocked the gun and aimed it at the dark water around his boat. The men’s singing seemed to dissipate with the seriousness of his situation. Sharks could be both dangerous and damaging. The scent of whale blood always drew them in, sending them into a frenzy where they could throw themselves against the side of the boat, risking damage. They were a nuisance to Matthew and he didn’t mind shooting them when necessary. The boat rocked in the waves and he steadied himself. 

“Are you going to use that on me, Matthew Joy?” The voice behind him startled a gasp from his lips. He swung the rifle around, aiming it at the same face he’d seen hours before. 

“You…” he whispered, keeping his rifle trained on her throat. Her eyes were the same green as before, only this time he could see them more clearly. The sun had fully set but colors remained in the sky above her head, bloody purples and such. He couldn’t see her body below the water but he saw that her shoulders were bare save the scattered pearls stuck to her skin like freckles. 

“Are you going to shoot me?” She whispered back, her face inches from the barrel of the rifle. He licked his lips before speaking.

“Where… where did you go? You disappeared…” he muttered darkly, flicking his eyes up to the deck where his crewmates continued to work. He was alone with the girl. 

“I had to see what you were like,” she offered a small smile. Matthew adjusted the way he held the gun, still aimed at her. 

“You asked me if I believed in Sirens…” Matthew remembered warily, his eyes trailing over the pearls across her chest. Her dark hair rested behind her shoulders, down her back. 

“Do you?” She asked and reached up her hands slowly, holding the edge of the small boat. He stared at her, his breath clouding the metal scope on his gun. 

“Is that what you are?” He asked finally and the girl smiled once again. 

“Is it quite shocking?” She teased and bit her lip timidly. 

“Well… yes,” Matthew exhaled and raised his eyebrow, “I thought they were only in stories. They weren’t real… Why didn’t you sing?”

The girl cocked her head to the side. The air felt heavy between them as he waited for her response. His body was confused and frightened, something he’d rarely felt before. His instinct and desire clashed, strengthening the opposing forces within him.  

“I don’t want to kill you,” she answered honestly, “we sing to kill.” 

Matthew lowered his gun and nodded, breathless. 

“You had legs. You didn’t look… ” He ran a shaky hand through his hair and ran his hand over his mouth. He could see the top of her fin break through the water. It was a beautiful silver color and her scales were shiny and iridescent. 

“I wanted to see how you would treat me. I disguised myself as a human girl and you treated me gently.”

“What do you want from me? You had to keep me alive for some reason,” Matthew sat down on a plank of seating and rubbed the waterducts of his eyes. 

“Nothing more than just to know you. I’ve watched your crew from the sea for weeks. You are a good, kind man.” 

Matthew looked up from between his fingers and exhaled slowly, lowering his guard only slightly. 

“Then what does this mean? How do you want to… know me?” He furrowed his brow and sat back once again on the plank of wood. Her hands tipped the boat slightly so that she could come a little closer to the sailor. 

“Come closer, please…” she whispered and rose onto her elbows, her face a few inches from Matthew’s. Matthew stared at her lips, rosey pink and plump. She smelled like sea salt and clean things. Ever so slowly, Matthew closed the distance between them, his eyes staying on her lips. 

“Y/N…” He tried to restrain himself as he whispered but eventually, as she stared up at him with her beautiful curtained eyes, he kissed her. It had been years since he’d actually kissed a woman. Kissing was so different than fucking. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed it, the softness of it. Her hands inched up his blouse, beneath his overcoat, grabbing at his lapels. His hands found the sharp edges of her jaw, meeting her mouth with a more fervent kiss. She tasted lightly of salt, like seaspray against rocks. He devoured her flavor as though it were precious, forbidden. He twisted his fingers into her hair that felt dry despite being in the water, moaning against her lips. 

“In what other ways do you want to know me?” He muttered against her lips, his eyes closed. Her fingers ran over his neck, down to the dip between his collarbones. 

“I want to know every part of you,” she smiled and moved away, allowing the light from the deck to illuminate her figure below him in the water. Matthew hid a choked sigh as his eyes trailed over her body below the waves. Her body was decorated with pearls and scraps of white cloth. Instead of a tail, she now had two legs that beat the water to keep her afloat. 

“Will you take me into your boat?” She asked softly and Matthew nearly forgot to respond, caught in a state of disbelief. He cleared his throat and scooped his hands beneath her arms, pulling her into the boat in one movement. Standing above him on two legs, she looked even more beautiful than she had hours earlier. He could see the buds of her nipples through the white fabric, surrounded by pearls and strands of seaweed. Her cunt was hidden behind a swath of wet fabric but he could still see the dark shape of pubic hair. He looked back up at her face, his lips having fallen apart in amazement. The Siren laughed softly and carded her fingers through his hair, pulling his head back slightly as she did. 

“Lay me down,” she requested and smiled when he immediately wrapped his hands around her waist and flipped her over where she could lie flat on the bottom of the harpoon boat. The planks were far enough away to give him space to kneel above her. He supported himself above her, studying the contours of her body, plump and full. She twisted her fingers through his hair again and pulled him close so she could whisper in his ear. 

“Now make love to me, Matthew Joy.” 

…

He was already hard when she cupped her hand against his pants. It had been a while since he’d slept with a woman after months at sea. His body ached as badly as if he were a teenage boy again, not an aging man. He was throbbing as he moved the fabric on her cunt aside and lowered his head between her thighs. Looking up at her, he ran his tongue against her, tasting her. She hummed and shook with nerves. 

A roving, a roving

Since roving's been my ru-i-in

I'll go no more a roving

With you fair maid!

Feeling emboldened by her reaction, Matthew licked her again and rubbed his nose against her clit. She was wet against his tongue and he licked his lips greedily. His cock started to throb as she whimpered and moaned beneath his mouth. Her hand pulled tightly at his hair but he loved the pain and worked his mouth harder into her cunt. 

“Now, please now!” She begged him as she started to shake with pleasure. Taking the hint, Matthew undid his trousers and pushed them down to his knees. His face was still wet with her precum as he pulled out his cock and inserted himself quickly. She spasmed around him, her hands moving to grip the sides of the boat for leverage. His thighs clenched as he thrusted into her, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his head. He leaned closer to her chest and rocked into her neck as he fucked her. 

“Oh you don’t know how long it’s been, love,” he sighed against her neck. “Is it ok?”

She nodded emphatically and pulled him closer by the back of his jacket, moving him deeper inside her. They both gasped out. He pulled his face away to watch her, still fucking her. 

“Beautiful. Pretty pretty creature you are,” he praised her as he trailed a finger down her cheek. Her thighs bounced against his as he pulled her legs around his waist. The boat shook around them. He slipped his tongue around the mound of her breast beneath the cloth, making more moans escape the girl’s mouth. He slipped the fabric aside with one finger and looking up to watch her face, he pressed his mouth around a nipple and sucked. Immediately, her body pulled into his, her back arching off the curved bottom. 

I'll go no more a roving

With you fair maid!

“Matthew…” she gasped as her muscles tightened and her bare feet flexed. He rolled his tongue around her nipple while his hand moved to hold her neck lightly, supporting her head. She cried out silently, her eyes screwed shut as if she were in pain. He dragged his tongue along her sternum to her neck and sucked at the flesh there. Her breathing evened out and she pulled his face to hers once again. 

“Do what you want with me. Get what you need from me,” the seriousness of her command sent a spasm of pleasure into his cock, still inside her. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes. I want you to use me,” she whispered and spread her legs farther. Matthew looked at her for a second before smiling. 

“Fuck, love. I think I’ll fall in love with you,” he chuckled softly and brushed his hand across her cheek. 

“And so what if you do, sailor? Hasn’t everyone else done the same at some point?” 

Matthew raised an eyebrow and kissed her, dragging her hands out above her head. Pressing her hands down into the boat, he began to thrust slowly into her, his hips still rebounding off of her pelvis. 

“You’re going to stay right here, Y/N. I don’t want to lose you again.” 

The girl smiled and broke into a moan as he shortened his thrusts, keeping himself as far inside her as he could. He went slowly so he could feel the orgasm clearly as it came over him, making his cock feel swollen with seed. Her hips shook wildly as she began to lose control over her orgasms. He watched her orgasm and released a wave of contractions around him. Smiling, he finally began to speed up as she whimpered beneath him.

“Fuck, yes… fuck… yes!” He muttered breathlessly as he felt his cock start to twitch before his orgasm. She tightened around him, pulling him deeper and drawing a guttural groan from his throat. His shoulders shook with effort as he allowed his orgasm to explode, cumming inside the girl and sending waves of relief through his system. He pulled out slowly and kissed down her stomach, savoring the heat of her skin against his lips. She caught her breath as he lapped at her swollen cunt. She was still shaking from her orgasms and whined when his tongue overstimulated her. He cleaned her out and nibbled at the skin on the inside of her thighs. 

“It’s time for me to go.” 

Matthew looked up at her and furrowed his brow, “so soon?” 

The girl nodded and sat up to face him. 

“I’ll be back, I promise.” She smiled shyly and rubbed her nose against his. 

“Where do you go… I mean where do you go while we’re aboard?” He stumbled over his words, still catching his breath. 

“Here,” she offered no further clarification as Matthew gave her a questioning look. She pressed her hand against his cheek and laughed. 

“Don’t worry about where I go, sailor. The sea is my home.”

Matthew kissed her hastily as he redid his pants and pulled his suspender straps back over his shoulders. She stood and kissed him once more before she stepped over the edge and dropped into the water. In seconds she was resurfacing with her silver tail. 

“Let me ask you one thing,” Matthew stopped her before he could leave, “are you real? Was that real?” He gestured to the bottom of the boat and the girl laughed brightly. 

“Be wary, sailor. You might just lose your mind."

Matthew nodded and watched as she backed away and dove into the dark water beyond the reflection of light from the deck. Moments later, a whistle sounded and he was called to return to the ship. Forcing himself to look away from the place where the girl disappeared, he felt the familiar material of his old coat that he had wrapped around the girl earlier on the plank beside him, folded and damp.

...

End of Pt. 2!

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in August 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup [ @1dmonthlyficroundup ] which you can find here!Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #65 |  ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis / Harry -

🌤️Your A-Team, Your Endgame by @silverkiiwii

(E, 70k, reality show au) a Next In Fashion au where Louis and Harry are partnered in the competition but they do not get along when they have to if they want to win. Full of fashion, banter, misunderstanding and a whole lot of making each other blush.

🌤️ Groupie Love by CuckooTrooke / @larrydoinglaundry

(E, 45k, m/f) In other words, Louis is a rock star on a world tour and Harry is a regular attendee. They could never work.

🌤️ But I know you by Thingssicant / @slowlyseducedbycurls

(NR, 26k, space) Harry is a journalist, Louis is an astronaut, but it's way more complicated than that

🌤️ You Can't Change The Rolling Tide by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(M, 24k, summer) Louis lives on a tiny island off the coast of England and runs a sailboat touring company. When Niall is sidelined for the summer after his knee surgery, Louis needs a temporary new partner. Who better to fill that role than Harry, recently returned to the island after five years away?

🌤️ At your service, for your usage (series) by @holdingontochaos

(E, 16k, sex work) Louis is a doctor who works so much that he has barely any time to himself for pleasure, let alone to clean his house so he hires Harry as his naked maid and kills two birds with one stone.

🌤️ the past might be painful, but i’m in love with our future by localopa / @voulezloux

(T, 10k, part 2 of trans Louis verse) it takes a lot of convincing for louis to let harry take him to his first pride. harry understands his worries and fears. really, he does. he just wants to show his boyfriend that he doesn’t have to be alone anymore.

🌤️ never just the tip by journeytothepast / @suckerforhome

(E, 6k, omegaverse) Harry believes alphas can't control themselves. Louis proves him wrong.

🌤️ You Put the Boom Boom Into My Heart by @kingsofeverything

(T, 5k, historical) Harry's been trying all summer to come up with a way to show Louis how much he means to him before he leaves for college. Or five times Harry fails to win Wham! tickets and one time he succeeds.

🌤️ The Island by @jaerie

(E, 5k, part 2 of The Wilds) Researchers plucked some of them from their secluded island and transplanted them into an enclosure against their will like a bunch of zoo animals. But they weren't animals and they all had a story of how they got here.

🌤️ Dear Louis by callmenine

(E, 5k, famous/not famous) The one where Harry is a popstar having an existential crises and writes a song for his high school ex-boyfriend Louis after more than ten years of no contact.

🌤️ Let the Feeling Last by @allwaswell16

(T, 5k, unhinged pet fic) Omega Harry thinks the alpha at the grocery store buying a cart full of vegetables must be an amazing chef. He doesn't know that Alpha Louis is feeding all those vegetables to his pet pig.

🌤️ Stars over Amsterdam by @hellolovers13

(T, 4k, exes) Fate in form of Eras Tour tickets forces Louis to meet up with his Ex. Hopefully soon to be Ex-Ex.

🌤️ (on the edge until) you pull me in by @justanothershadeofblue

(E, 3k, fantasizing) His dick is not about to fall off, thank you very much, Niall, but it has been a while since he’s had time for a wank. 

🌤️ i'm going out tonight by @disgruntledkittenface

(M, 3k, established relationship) Louis hasn’t been appreciating his boyfriend Harry. He only realizes it when Harry takes matters into his own hands.

🌤️ I just wanna be yours (wanna be yours, wanna be yours) by @dreaminrainbows

(E, 3k, pwp) Harry studies his sixteen year old self’s face for a long moment and it's truly pathetic how in fourteen years nothing has really changed.

🌤️ the sign on your heart (it's reserved for me) by moon_rose25 / @darkinfinity

(G, 3k, kid fic) The one where Louis Tomlinson is a single dad and is finally allowing himself to start dating. Insert Harry Styles, a charming coffee shop owner who sweeps him off his feet.

🌤️ HOT TO GO! by @allwaswell16

(T, 2k, famous/not famous) When Harry does something weird at the barricade, he leaves Louis’ show devastated and hoping he can somehow make things right. Or the accidental pervert fic

🌤️ Gotta Feeling by @allwaswell16

(T, 2k, tour guide Louis) When Harry's life in Manchester isn't turning out the way he thought it would, he decides to visit his best friend in Mexico City. Maybe Niall can convince him to move halfway around the world.

🌤️ Ice, Ice, Baby by cherrylarry / @beelou

(G, 1k, meet cute) Figure skater Harry takes Louis out on the ice for the first time

- Rare Pairs -

🌤️ Like A Force Of Nature by @reminiscingintherain

(T, 30k, Zayn/Liam) the Heartstopper AU no one asked for.

🌤️ The Grundy County Drag Show Incident by @haztobegood

(T, 3k, Zayn/Liam) Holding a wireless mic in her gloved hand, Veronica Stardust owned the stage. She was one of the most vocally talented drag queens in the Midwest. Part 2 of Grundy County Incidents

[erasabledinosaur]

What's in my Game: cc edition

dew of the sea

nature set | Tulips from Amsterdam

EA-edit Set | paranormal art items

Special | Love Not War Valentine Set

EA-edit Set | Bonehilda Themed Items

Art Set | Old Family Pictures

Winter Gifts | a tub full of plants

Winter Gifts | thank you cards

Winter Gifts | winter wishes cards

Winter Gifts | wall ribbons for cards

[DEW at home] accordion wall rack + clothes

[Magic Month] | gothic witch paintings

EA-edit Set | more hallway stuff

bioniczombie

4t3: Strangerville Random posters

4t3: Bread n’ Butter Toaster Clock, and Radio (High School Years EP).

4t3: More Stains (Basement Treasures Kit)

4t3: Collection of Floor Destruction 1: Scratches (Werewolves GP)

4t3: Collection of Wall Destruction (Werewolves GP)

4t3: Collection of Floor Destruction 2: Cracks (Werewolf GP)

Bonehilda Coffin Default.

4t3: Werewolf Noir Film Poster (Werewolves GP)

4t3: Fury-Fueled Nonconformity Poster (Werewolves GP)

4t3: LIS2 Grocery Bags.

4t3: TC Deco 01.

4t3: sforzinda’s High School Years Clutter Separated.

4t3: Perfectly  Plush Couch (High School Years EP).

4t3: Cow Plant Duo

4t3: Simmify Instant Camera (Deco)

4t3: Saved by the Chair (High School Years EP)

4t3: Laundry Deco (High School Years EP)

4t3: BG Decor (Base Game)

4t3: GP07 Barback Clutter (Strangerville GP)

4t3: Heavy Metal Decor (Strangerville GP)

4t3: School Festival Objects (High School Years EP)

4t3: Good Old Times Tables (High School Years EP)

2t3: Bathroom Rugs (Sims 2 conversion)

4t3: RE3 Clutter (Deco)

4t3: House Clutter (Parenthood GP, & Eco Lifestyle EP)

4t3: The Front Desk Clutter (Get Together EP)

4t3: High Definition Blowdryer (Deco)

4t3: Bathroom Clutter Kit Rugs (Bathroom Clutter Kit)

4t3: Bric-A-Bac Wall Art (Strangerville Separated).

4t3: Laundry Maid Essentials (Laundry Day SP)

4t3: Bathroom Clutter (Bathroom Clutter Kit)

4t3: When Life Gives You Linens Clutter (Laundry Day Separated).

4t3: Get Together Decor

4t3: Random 02 (Cottage Living EP)

4t3: Random Rugs

4t3: Kid’s Decor (Growing Together EP)

4t3: Random Decor (Growing Together EP)

4t3: Infant Update (Decor)

4t3: Bathroom Clutter 02 (Bathroom Clutter Kit)

4t3: Basement Treasures Decor (Basement Treasures Kit)

4t3: Grandma’s Couch (Basement Treasures Kit)

4t3: Basement Treasures Decor #02 (Basement Treasures Kit)

4t3: Book Nook Decor (Book Nook Kit)

4t3: Kids Decor 02 (Growing Together EP)

4t3: Greenhouse Haven Decor (Greenhouse Haven Kit)

4t3: Pile of the Sims Daily (Cats & Dogs EP)

4t3: Living Set (Book Nook Kit)

4t3: SquareTube TV (Basement Treasures Kit)

4t3: Shortwave Shindig Radio (Horse Ranch EP)

4t3: More Book Nook (Book Nook Kit)

4t3: Discover University Decor (Discover University EP)

4t3: Paint Decor (City Living EP)

4t3: Art Attack

4t3: Sick Tunes

4t3: Pretty in Punk

4t3: TVs

4t3: Nonna's Cookbook (Home Chef Hustle SP)

4t3: Everyday Clutter Decor (Everyday Clutter Kit)

4t3: Bread Box of Holding (Parenthood GP)

4t3: Pillow for Deep Thoughts (Spa Day GP)

4t3: Party Poppers (Toddler SP)

4t3: Tastefully Empty Bookshelf Decor

4t3: Non-Functional Water Heater (For Rent EP)

4t3: Tibert Decor (For Rent EP)

4t3: The For Rent Sign (For Rent EP)

[resplendentoutfit]

The Romantic Fashion Era

Jan Adam Kruseman (Dutch, 1804-1862) • Portrait of Alida Christina Assink • 1833 • Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

The sitter for this portrait is dressed in classic Romantic style. The leg-o-mutton sleeves and pelerine (lace covering over the shoulders) create the width at at the top of the outfit that characterized the silhouette of a women's outfit.

From 1830 to about 1835, fashion was all about extravagant proportions in the shoulders and a tiny waist accentuated further with a belt or sash.

Notice Alida Christina's hair – straight on the upper third of the head, ending with a pouf of curls on each side. It's difficult to tell what is hair and what is a dark ribbon in the portrait, though it was common for the hair to be formed into a top-knot and decorated with ribbon, feathers and fancy pins, in addition to the curls in other locations on the head. It must've taken hours to achieve such perfection and I can imagine the frustration for the girls and women whose hair wouldn't cooperate! Not to mention the frazzled nerves of a poor lady's maid.

The Rijksmuseum website has a biographical snippet of Alida Christina Assink:

This portrait of Alida Assink presents her in her finest attire, depicted from head to toe. That is quite exceptional, as the painter Kruseman typically reserved such a full-length portrait exclusively for royalty. Assink was 23 years old when this likeness was commissioned by her guardian, a wealthy landowner. The rural setting with hunting dog and garden vase harks back to the English portrait style, which Kruseman admired.

[le-chevalier-au-lion]

miss doris thalassia waters: dovquez [e]

@dovquezdecember + at the edge of the abyss

Marc’s eyes are black as pitch—glossy, pearlescent, edge of the abyss. An appropriate metaphor, considering that Andrea is doing, generally, something very stupid by being there.

He breathes out, the water of Marc’s new pool icy all the way to his knees. Tomorrow, they’ll have Marc’s first open sea swim in God knows how many years—Valentino doesn’t want to talk about it and Marc hasn’t grasped the Gregorian calendar yet so he can’t tell.

Tomorrow, Marc will either stay like Andrea asked, because it’s better for him, because he isn’t strong enough to swim back to Spain yet, but soon, soon, or he won’t.

“Dovi,” he says clumsily, in his lure voice, mimicry gone from foreign language to comfortable, almost natural. “Dovi.”

Andrea catches a blur of white and orange. He freezes, flinches, blood drumming wetly in his temples, on his throat. But Marc’s tail stays there, brushing against his legs—coarse scales on fine, animal fur. It doesn’t wrap, doesn’t tug. Andrea lets out a funny noise, taut.

He can feel his pulse on the tips of his fingers.

“Are you excited?” He asks—fills the silence. His voice sounds strained.

Marc mouths along the words, stares at him unblinkingly. It can be difficult, trying to talk with him. Easier to shoot every question he can come up with, make them yes or no, than watch Marc get frustrated with himself, with language, with humans. He gets impatient fast, having to untangle what he feels.

Andrea is fishing for a new word, another question—

“Yes.” Marc nods, exaggerated, an even clumsier mimicry. Andrea shouldn’t—he absolutely shouldn’t—but he laughs, and he forgets to be afraid for half a heartbeat, this golden giddiness bubbling in his chest.

“Yeah. Me too.”

And it’s the mindfuck of Andrea’s life, same as it was a couple months ago when they met—that he gets to watch the human jolt of Marc’s expression. His twitching eyebrows, the hunch in his shoulders. He’s never gotten around discovering what it means—what he’s thinking when Andrea says home and I’ll help you and you won’t have to stay.

Sometimes—

Andrea stops dead on his tracks. For a marine biologist, he’s always been practical. Prides himself on little, but certainly that.

Marc blinks, finally. Extends his clawed hand to him. The tail petting his legs halts.

I’m going to get killed. He’s had that exact same thought every day since the carabinieri called him—sure, it was the CUFAA; he got fucking spooked anyway—and said they had a problem. Since he looked at Marc in a shitty, cramped tank and got drenched for his troubles of being civil. It rattles in his head, the stuff on Marc’s file, the stuff that he put on Marc’s file.

Mesocarnivore Hypercarnivore with a cultural preference for human flesh glares at him in stark black letters. Ambush hunter. Strict do not approach warnings through all of Spain, and twice as many since he tried to kill every single one of his handlers in Italy.

Andrea shrugs off his shirts, shimmies out of his rolled-up jeans, the cuffs damp. When he grabs Marc’s hand, the claws wrap gently around his wrist’s fragile skin. He gets a final lungful before he’s pushed down.

It’s dark, really dark, only flashes of Marc’s bright tail—the whole fucking nine-or-so feet of it—in the corners of his vision, tightening around them both, bracketing him in. The animal part of Andrea’s brain, the one that knows that it shouldn’t be underwater, is certain that he’s going to die here and now if he doesn’t break loose.

He makes himself stay in place. Even—especially—when Marc crowds against him, right there, his abyss black eyes and the wild flop of dark curls all he can see.

Then—the teeth.

Andrea hisses, precious air spilling from him. Except Marc doesn’t bite or tear him apart limb by limb. He’s smiling, Andrea realizes, with a crooning, self-satisfied relief that almost pulls a manic laugh of his dry, constricting throat. It’s smaller and more careful than what he does when he’s trying to scare people, remind them that animals show teeth for a reason.

His teeth are still very white and very sharp, of course.

Whiter and sharper the closer he gets. They’d be breathing the same air if Andrea were breathing, Marc’s nose brushing against his own, the knife-sharpness of his claws pressed against the tenderness of his nape. One slip, accident or not—

Marc is smiling.

Marc is kissing him.

Andrea stamps on the urge to make a noise, keening and thin—can’t waste the oxygen it’d take. His entire body prickles. Might be fear, might be a fishhook of sheer, red-hot want pulling on his guts. His head is spinning, feels light already.

It’s chaste—cautious, no tongue, Marc’s mouth oddly soft and docile against his own. Andrea’s chest aches, a slow-building twinge, but less than knowing he doesn’t get to keep this. Tomorrow, Marc—reckless, kept in place for too long, so fucking reckless—will probably swim off, and Andrea will understand why sailors go mad for a sea they can’t have in that many stories.

They kiss once, twice, thrice. Marc’s tail has pulled his legs together, rough-edged, unyielding like a steel band. His claws hold his jaw in place, and he’s an earnest, cruel, beautiful thing—pulling Andrea in again and again and again. He laughs, and the sound carries perfectly. Loud, honking, shameless. Mundane and ugly, rather than his usual silversweet voice.

The hurt in his chest grows teeth, bites deep. It’s a razor-edged pressure that goes nowhere, builds and builds and builds. Becomes his entire self.

Andrea tries to swim up. Marc doesn’t move an inch, lures him in for another kiss. Hungry, with the threat of teeth on his bottom lip. He can’t tell the darkness of the water from the dark spots glaring in his vision, Marc’s face smudged to a tanned blur. His eyes sting with salt.

When he insists on it, though, Marc takes them both to the surface. Faster than he could’ve done, in a single stroke.

It keeps hurting, even when he sucks in air greedily, one time, ten, more. The pain dulls like it came in—lazy waves. Marc watches him through his flailing, the artful boredom that he yielded against people shattered in the wicked gleam of his grin. Through the pound of blood in Andrea’s ears, in his half breathless delirium, he thinks pretty and doesn’t regret it.

“Dovi,” he giggles.

DoviDoviDovi, like his name is precious, a pearl.

Andrea chuckles, then can’t stop laughing. He feels scraped raw, golden, invincible, pissed off. It’s tangled, knotted in his throat. He keeps realizing those things that don’t add up. One, that Marc’s pool is deep—has to be, he’s a big, bad apex predator, needs his space, and Andrea hadn’t cared about that when he got in. Two, he isn’t swimming, not anymore, and it’s Marc keeping him above water.

Three, he’s hard, filling up against the heavy, scratchy fabric of his wet underwear.

Which—it’s funny. He laughs a lot more, until he stops. Embarrassment coils around his insides, because he shouldn’t. You don’t get hard over something that is a protected species in over 150 countries. Or—and it’s not any better, it just sounds less like Andrea is getting freaky with the aquarium sharks—you don’t get hard over someone you have total control over.

Marc is staring at him, dead-eyed, intense.

“Dovi.” He’d told Marc he didn’t need to use his name that often. He likes saying it, apparently. Andrea’s cock twitches. “I am very nice.”

He scoffs. There’s a smile twisting his lips, which is unfortunate, but he still scoffs.

“No, you aren’t.”

Marc beams at him, crashes them together. Andrea is balanced on the edge of his tail, on his silky soft fins. He flails once, manages to right himself. His raised eyebrows are pointed, serious.

“I am,” he insists, “I do not drown you.”

Andrea is halfway to really? when it crashes over him, a new, clammy wave of fear—this is Marc being uncharacteristically nice. Gentle. Hypercarnivore with a cultural preference for human flesh echoes, gunshot loud in his thoughts.

He chokes on a short cry. His legs fall open, a little, and Marc wedges himself between them. Plasters them together torso to torso. He’s hot—Andrea knows that, always knew. The sudden, actual heat makes him jolt into Marc anyway. Drags his clothed cock against the fine, soft scales of his waist, and it’s not even good, but—Christ.

“Can still eat me,” he pants. It sounds stupid, awkward.

“No, not that either.”

Andrea isn’t sure if Marc knows what being hard means—he can go without digging into the odd stretch of years he spent with Valentino, then trying his best to kill Valentino. There’s this intensity to him, though. Acute, pitiless when he fidgets against him, watching Andrea’s mouth open and close dizzily.

Also, at some point, being scared should kick in—should stop making him feel hot, and sweaty, and starved. It doesn’t.

God, alright.

This is happening. In real time. To him.

“I am nice to you.” After a beat, with Andrea shaking like he has water in his ears: “Now.”

He waits, strange, focused—the unflinching gaze of the flesh-eating monster that Andrea for some fucking reason vowed to help. Only dives under when he nods.

There are claws running along his sides, nowhere near as mean as they could be. The pain comes in flash—settles below his skin, warm, good, actually. Unfortunate for his sanity. Andrea shudders, blooms with goosebumps, freezes from the waist up. Marc flattens his palms against his stomach, his arms, everywhere he can reach to feel the raised hair, the layer of clammy sweat.

Andrea is wrong in the head, fear of death tangled with the fear of Marc stopping—his wires crossed somewhere low in his stomach, in his cock. He closes his mouth with a click of teeth, harsh, or he’ll start drooling.

He catches the glint of Marc’s eyes when he looks up—having a little too much fun with this. With him.

Marc takes his claws off his body. There’s a groan building in his throat, impatient, frustrated—it peters off to a disbelieving, dry scoff when he catches torn pieces of fabric floating in the water.

Andrea can’t tell what expression he’s making, has to reach down to feel it by hand. Marc’s eyebrows waggle over-dramatically under his touch, a face that’s no less ridiculous just because he can’t see it.

“You think you are funny,” he deadpans.

 “Yep,” Marc pops the p obnoxiously—Andrea hears it crystal-clear.

Maybe it’s in his head. Maybe it’s not. The one time Marc tried to explain the finer points of mermaid luring to him, he’d ended up pinned to the floor by a couple of interns—had been trying to drown himself, and Marc went flat against the corner of his tank, wild-eyed, snarling. Andrea knew with the certainty of a miracle he’d been a bit scared under that bristle.

By hand again he watches the serious, flat line of Marc’s lips, the frown on his forehead. He’s scheming—could be as harmless as getting his research notes wet, as gory as tearing his femoral artery open. Andrea has sweat on his hairline, his back, his chest.

He tugs on Marc’s insistently until he comes up, scowling.

“You have to be careful with me.”

Marc tilts his head to the side—like he doesn’t understand. He does. Has to. Andrea can’t describe vulnerability and fragility to a creature who has neither with his cock pulsing heavily between his legs, the urgency of dangerdangerdanger making him shake.

So he taps two fingers against the corner of Marc’s worrisome, deceptive lips. He opens sweetly, on command, and Andrea needs to breathe—needs to not linger on that. Stares at the ceiling above to calm down, the white lights burning bright outlines into his retina.

He traces the sharpness of Marc’s front teeth, the canines. He keeps the pressure light—skimming, really. The skin breaks anyway, floods Marc’s mouth with a trickle of his blood. The moment it happens skews revelatory. Marc makes this noise, inhuman, melodic. Doesn’t bother with the pretense of speech.

His hand clutches at Andrea’s wrist, keeps it in place.

“Careful,” he gasps—reminding, pleading, no difference.

Marc nods once, lets his fingers slip out. His scowl softened, but his jaw is locked in place under the pad of his thumb. Tense. Calculating. He dives again with a croon that he guesses is meant to sound comforting.

Andrea wonders—idly—if he should start praying.

And chokes on the spit overflowing inside his mouth.

It’s rougher than a human tongue. Hot—he keeps expecting for Marc to be cold for some reason, and the shock of his warmth keeps socking him on the jaw, has Andrea reeling. Rounded tip. Funny way to discover that the warnings of him having a devil’s tricks are bitter, make-believe stories.

Andrea can’t swallow a high-pitched moan.

Or how it dissolves into a whine, a flinch. It’s—freaky. Too long. Way too long. And it’s wrapping around the head of his cock, all of it, then another inch or two. Andrea keeps catching those flashes, dusky-pink. Has to stop looking, or—or—

“Uhg.” The noise is punched out of him. Eloquent as always.

He wants—absurdly—to laugh. Can’t make his body quit spasming long enough for that.

Marc starts moving his head, petting Andrea’s length. It’s slow, awkward—the pump of a fist on an odd angle. Except it’s his tongue. His fucked up, too long, animal tongue.

There are noises. Shrill, strangled—suspiciously close to evisceration instead of bliss. Andrea realizes they’re coming from him but can’t wrangle his body back into his control. His ears ring. He clings to Marc’s tail, buries his nails on the knobs of stiff scales. Solid, harsh, more real than whatever the fuck is happening to him.

He shouldn’t be hard, is the thing. The water hasn’t warmed up one bit, and Marc’s tongue is—too much, coarse like sandpaper. More pain than pleasure. But Andrea is, of course he is. Can feel his pulse on his cock. Drool drips down his chin.

Marc strokes him. It’s sluggish, unhurried—Andrea trembles to not move, thighs shaking where they’re bracketing the creature between them.

He stays there, on the head, again-again-again with short jerks of his head, scraping his tongue on the vein running on the underside of his cock until Andrea could swear that every single one of his nerve endings are there, being scraped raw.

“Marc,” he hisses. His feet twitch uselessly, kick tiny waves.

Marc hums—must be that. The vibrations have him jittery like an addict, moaning. Andrea’s arms quiver to keep him still and upright. An urgent, wordless sound froths in his mouth, but Marc’s tail surges, more of it, pressed against the small of his back and around it, keeping him straight.

In place. Pinned. If they go under—

They don’t. There’s only Marc, everywhere. Andrea goes boneless against him, needs to be held. His hands scramble hopelessly against the blur of white and orange around him, settle.

Andre lets himself sink into all of that. It’s too much, a legit out of body experience, and it hurts—the kind of pain that dulls him, halfway to meditation. His punch-drunk desperation narrows the whole world to the wet, rough, hot drag of Marc’s tongue, mean on his tip until he starts rocking into it, those tortured, helpless twitches of his hips. He becomes lax against the feeling.

Time grows liquid around him. Meaningless.

It’s—fucking intense.

He shoulders his way closer, spreads Andrea’s thighs he can fit right between them, plastered against his front, the coil on hair on his groin. And his claws—

Andrea jolts, snaps back into his head with a full-body spasm. Marc’s claws are there, right fucking there, on his balls, playing with them. He freezes, strains to not move again. When he looks, a pathetic huff knocked out of him, he meets the pitiless glint of Marc’s eyes spearing him through.

Marc keeps toying with him. Rolls his balls together, curious, and runs the tip of his black claws over the paper-thin skin there. His other hand digs into Andrea’s knee—stops him from closing his legs. He chokes on a whimper, reedy, warbled, the pounding of blood in his ears closer to hammer blows.

“Wait,” he says—tries to. “Wait, wait, wait, wait.”

There’s no waiting. Marc—apex predator, cruel to his bones—smells weakness, an opening for his ambush. He tightens his tongue right around the tip, oversensitive, sore, and pain hits him like a knife to the guts. Andrea’s vision sparks white, ears ringing, chokes on a moan that tastes an awful lot please and brine.

It's the worst orgasm of his life. The best. Agony and bliss wiping his thoughts away.

Marc put him on the edge of his pool, Andrea finds out, once the adrenaline dwindles to a dull thrum. His feet are inside, swaying to the current of his swishing tail.

He swallows. Has to do it again. His limbs are stiff, uncooperative—leaden weights, more than he can handle. Like this, Andrea isn’t sure if he’s in pain anymore. His nerves might as well be in overdrive, overheating. Sensations come back to him one by one with a delay, in the quiet of the aquarium after dark.

“You’re the worst,” he says without bite. Can’t muster any.

Marc chuckles—it takes Andrea a while to hit him on the side with a trembling leg for that smugness. It’s a weak blow, though. Only makes Marc chuckle a little more—braying, brazen.

“Dovi,” he sing-songs, the syllables familiar in their oddness.

Tomorrow, but it barely aches.

[rowretro]

✧𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓✧

WARNINGS: Blood, Kissing

✧CHAPTER 7✧

✧tag list✧: @chlorinecake @nikisdubblchococake @enhypensccstarlight @strwberrydinosaur @sunghoonsbeautymark @strawbsj 

"What about Amsterdam?" Riki asked as y/n narrowed her eyes at him "There will be too many temptations everywhere-" y/n frowned, knowing very well just how their Saturday Nights in Amsterdam will turn into. A sinful night of drugs drugs and drugs, edibles on a daily basis, and a whole room for alcohol, heck even a bar in their own bedroom.

"Yeah you're right... What about Cabo?" Riki asked as y/n thought for a second "It sounds nice but... doesn't your dad run an alcohol factory there as well?..." y/n pointed out as Riki sighed "Well that leaves us Finland, Greece and France..." Riki turned to y/n who was gently rocking baby Kyle "You know... no one would ever predict the most ruthless drug lord Riki living in France, a country of romance and fancy cigarettes." Y/n pointed out with a smile.

"Okay... well we can leave tomorrow, I'll book some flight tickets, and get the maids to pack our bags" The male said as he kissed her forehead. Y/n blushed at his actions as she looked down at the baby "Aren't you a little cutieeee" Y/n cooed as the baby giggled, playing with her hair. "Ah- Kyleee- what is it with you and pulling hair?" y/n asked as the baby laughed, pulling harder.

The night went by pretty smoothly. That was weird... The baby didn't cry once. Frowning, y/n got up, only to see Riki wasn't beside her, she put on her glasses as she went downstairs, only to find the teary eyed baby, on Riki's lap, the two watching an R-rated horror movie, the baby had his headphones on, not hearing a sound. "NISHIMURA RIKI!" Y/n called out sternly as Riki flinched, waking up holding the baby close to himself as he turned to his girlfriend.

"SERIOUSLY?! YOU'RE WATCHING THE WINNIE THE POOH HORROR MOVIE WITH THE BABY?!" Y/n scolded as Riki blinked. "Sweetheart... baby- look! he giggles every time one of the girls get murdered" Riki said as Y/n took the baby from him turning off the TV.

"That stupid movie is 1% plot and 9000% violence! its disgusting and definitely not something you should play in front of our baby Riki!... oh god what if he grows up to be a serial killer...." the girl spiralled as Riki sighed, hugging her and the baby. "Oh babe... I'm sorry... he was crying so I brought him down and played one of the Muppet movies, and well I guess when I fell asleep he somehow managed to switch the channel-" Riki explained as y/n frowned.

"You expect me to believe that a baby could use a TV remote?" Y/n asked in disbelief, even though Riki was being honest, it just didn't sound right. Just as she said so, the TV suddenly turned on, the remote in the baby's hold. "Oh my god... he's smarter than me-" y/n said, gasping as Riki shrugged. He just got lucky with that.

✧𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓✧

[abwwia]

Agnieta Gijswijt |

Agnieta Cornelia Gijswijt (1873-1962) was a Dutch painter.

Born 19 December 1873 Gorinchem, Netherlands

Died 8 February 1962 (aged 88) Amsterdam, Netherlands

Agnieta Cornelia Gijswijt Maid at the 'rode hoeve' in Genk Oil on canvas 28.3 x 38.6 cm, Signed ur

[practicecourts]

Head Over Handlebars For You || start at the beginning The very fortunate James Potter fears his luck has run out when he has an accident in Amsterdam. The less-than-fortunate Lily Evans falls head over feet for the stranger she fished out of the canal.

Chapter 20 Greenhouse 3 (Lily)

Fingers ghosted lightly along her shoulders and made her look up in surprise. When his lips pressed softly against hers, she felt goosebumps all over her arms and neck. “You alright?” he asked.

Chapter 21 Greenhouse 3 (James)

She smacked him on his chest, a deep blush colouring her cheeks. “No way, Potter. If I’m going to risk my life on one of those things, it’ll be with you.”

Chapter 22 A Goose chase on a bike

“You ready?” James asked. Hell no. I won’t be ready for another year or so, she thought, adjusting the helmet Sirius had given her. 

Tomorrow's update (spoilers sort of)

Chapter 23 Swing Low

“Because I" Petunia pointed with the bottle to her chest, a red splash dripped on a cream shirt, Lily's eyes went wide. "I have no, zero, none, zip Maids of Honour anymore.”

[queenofcandynsoda]

Sol Fertilis: Pleasure Venue Hierarchy

Prelude

These are the seven tiers of a Pleasure Venue’s hierarchy. In the past, during the Great Economic Collapse, there was a high prostitution rate and it went unregulated, leading to human trafficking, underage prostitution, and a high death rate due to murder and STDs. So a traveling rich woman named Takimura Kiwako decided to create a brothel to prevent further chaos. Her brothel grew bigger as more women joined and got sophisticated. This led to the attention of several Founding Fathers who attended this. Kiwako took this as an opportunity to get prostitution to be regulated as she had made good money on it. Afterward, she told them about how to please a woman and what “equipment” they could use. Once the PNP got elected, more brothels have been established, many being state-sponsored. When the rank laws were created, many unmarried Gamma Minus women were put into them due to their beauty. There were even orphan girls who were put into them as servants. 

Over the years, the lives of sex workers have begun to improve. There is a decrease in STDs, a low death rate, and an improved quality of life. However, there are still human rights concerns, as some of them were put into the Pleasure Venues as punishment for being connected to enemy troops or trying to escape during the war. 

The Ministry of Pleasure managed the hierarchy with their outposts. The higher the tier, the more privileges the sex worker got. The sex workers can even be removed and would have to work in a different field, such as maids or cooks, losing the opportunities they could have if they lost their “sexual energy”. 

Hierarchy

Magistra- They are the Madame of the Pleasure Venue, one of the highest-ranking Gamma Minus titles. Many are proud of this because the title represents their survival. The Magistra is allowed to manage the prostitutes and would get a good pension once they retire. 

Courtesan- These are the flagships of their Pleasure Venues. There would be several in each to avoid conflict and never be one. They are deemed to be the most prized women because they are gorgeous, have a high education, are artistic, and wear luxury Sol Fertilian clothes. They have a high bidding price to spend the night with them, with the starting price being 5000 Novas (3750 USD). 

Concubina- These are the Courtesans quasi-married to widowed or unmarried Alphas who already had one child called Concubinatus. Among the previous requirements, they also had to be fertile. What is unique is that they have a right to reject the offer if they deem the Alpha to be unfit. Once in the Concubinatus, they are given a surname that shows the Alpha’s ownership. Along with that, they are given their private room, the Mauve Harem, and a personal servant who was their Antepuella. 

Pretiosae- They are the prized ones who have brought value to the Pleasure Venue. Similar to the red-light district in Amsterdam, they would be seen in a showcase under violet lighting. They are also highly educated but not as much as the Courtesans/Concubinas. They are educated in singing, dancing, massages, and the fine arts, but not allowed to learn about stories of myth and more reserved arts. They had to wear theme clothing like some in the hierarchy. They have an average price of 1000 Novas (750 USD). 

Prostibula- They are the standard sex workers. They are not seen by the client beforehand, usually waiting in the session room. They primarily wear clothes that go with the theme of the Pleasure Venue and would have slightly higher education than their lower counterparts. A client is allowed to pay from several Prostibulas at once for sex parties or orgies. They have an average price of 500 Novas (375 USD).

Jocus- They are the ones who are trained to please a client’s fetish, objectified to where they are used as human furniture, gimps, Nyotaimori, and put in bondage shows. They never spoke and had to wear very revealing clothing, sometimes in either latex or leather. They have an average price of 250 Novas (187.5 USD).

Saltatrix- This is where the Sol Fertilian sex workers had to start as the lowest prostitute or adult entertainer. In Pleasure Halls, they work as waitresses, strippers, burlesque performers, and erotic dancers. In the Pleasure Gardens, they become porn actors and subjects of pornographic magazines. Like the Prostibula, Pretiosae, and Courtesans, they primarily wear clothes that go with the theme of the Pleasure Venue. They do not have sex with clients as they have to train to handle sex. For private events, they have an average price of 100 Novas (75 USD).

Antepuella- They are the “front girls, meaning that they serve the Courtesans, escort the clients to them, and stay in front of the door to wait until the client leaves or when the Courtesans need help. They are rarely, if ever, seen by the clients. When they come of age, they’d go one step higher, educated for more than the basics for a Gamma Minus. 

Other positions

Meretricius- A male prostitute that caters to both men and women

Aurorius- Male Beta Minuses that have sex with the Saltatrix, Jocus, and Prostibula for pornography and sex shows.

Sociusmerces- This is a paid Gamma Minus companion that does not require sex. They are similar to sugar babies. 

[felagund-fiollaigean]

🎧!!!

maid of amsterdam by the muckers. I put my hand yet higher still / mark well what I do say / I put my hand yet higher still / she said, "young man, that's quite a thrill"

not particularly inspired lyrics but it's good for a rowdy good time at the ren faire

[angstyandromanticwriting]

Vera Alfrey (an OC) x Fem!Reader Angsty, Cute and Fluffy Prompt

• Period drama style

• Vera’s face claim is Margot Robbie as Valerie Vose in Amsterdam (2022)

• There will be more!

!TW: Cheating, facing homophobia, self-doubt, self put-down(s), implied suffering from depression + anxiety + separation anxiety, mention of sexual occurrence(s), mention of death + implied grieving, mention of the loss of parents, presence of blood + injury detail, violence/being abused, break-up, mention of abuse + implied murder, implied suicidal intentions + attempting to commit suicide (via drowning), elements of self-harm - If I’ve missed any, let me know ❤️!

Ever since Vera’s father had been informed by one of the gardeners of your and her undergarments being found within the cornfield, things had been tense between you, her, and Violet; you were all worried about what might happen if your and Vera’s affair was discovered, though neither one of you could understand why it was something so bad to them - like Isabella had told Vera before she had passed away, and had still been the head maid of the household: love was meant to be a force that doesn’t discriminate, so why should anyone be disgusted by you both being two women in love with one another?

Despite the fact that your lives were on the line, this wouldn’t stop you both from seeing one another still behind her family’s backs, with only Violet - her middle sister - knowing now about you both, and trying to cover you as much as she possibly could in an attempt to protect you from the harassment you would surely face if you were discovered by the police.

“Hey-!” You chimed elatedly upon noticing Vera enter the library quietly; she often met you in here secretly as the others often wouldn’t be within the room whilst it was being cleaned by you, considering the fact that you were one of the maids within the house, and she would always - whenever her parents had gone out with her youngest sister, Elizabeth - rush to your side, knowing that you both wouldn’t be walked in on, and therefore wouldn’t be punished, or on edge about being discovered together by any of them; the other maids would most likely not bother checking up on you, either, with Violet keeping an eye on the room for the both of you in secret.

“Hi!” She returned, her eyes glinting following her gaze falling upon you, before she rushed up to you, and threw her arms around you, evidently glad to find that you were okay, worrying you a little, but you would try and hide it from her, returning the hug in an attempt to provide comfort to her as you could tell that maybe she’d been shaken up recently, and you couldn’t imagine why, wondering if her father, or mother had questioned her again, when really she had been trying to evade the both of them to the best of her ability. “I missed you so much,” she expressed timidly whilst she buried her face into the crook of your neck, and you couldn’t help, but appear flustered whilst you began to feel warm and fuzzy; nobody had ever made you feel so loved, and cared about before, and you couldn’t help, but wonder why she was wasting her time on you, being perfect, whilst you believed yourself to be nothing, compared to her, prompting your heart to sink, and a pained expression to cross your face, but you would try and hide it whilst you rested your head upon her left shoulder, fighting back the small tears that had managed to cloud your vision.

“I missed you, too,” you returned, “h-how was it, earlier, with the-.. the general?”

Vera would appear taken aback by the question, holding you at arm’s length whilst she smirked over at you; she could tell that you were a little jealous, though you had no reason to be; the general could never mean anything to her, and she was still determined to find a way out of marrying him, somehow, wanting to remain loyal to you, and only you, now she knew that you felt the same way for her, and that these feelings you were holding for one another were normal, and not something to be ashamed of the way you had both often been made to feel like they were, before. Upon noticing the look on her face, and mischievous glint forming within her stunning icy blue eyes, you would wince, appearing embarrassed at yourself for reacting the way you had; you knew you shouldn’t be jealous, but couldn’t help it - you were terrified of losing her, and couldn’t help, but wish you both could spend more time together, often longing for one another’s company whenever you were away from each other’s sides the way you had been a brief moment ago.

“I hated every second of it,” she admitted, before tilting her head partially, and trying hard to fight back a grin, as well as a giggle upon noticing that you had begun to blush faintly, “why? Were you hoping to get me all to yourself earlier?” You would falter, before beginning to stammer, and hiding your face from her whilst your blush began to grow more evident; she’d always had this effect on you, and she loved it; she always had, and knew she always would, no matter what the future might be holding for you both, after your undergarments had been found within the cornfield you’d both fooled around in together recently, before Auntie Isabella had sadly passed away. “Don’t worry, kitty, I’m all your’s,” she cooed, before lifting her right hand up to your left cheek, prompting you to instantly melt into her touch whilst you found your eyes locking blissfully with her stunning icy blue ones, encouraging your heart to begin pounding overwhelmingly whilst it raced alongside her own in the best way possible, “and that’s never gonna change, I promise; I love you so much-”

“Vera!” Her mother would call from downstairs, and Vera would falter, a pained expression on her face; she’d been about to delicately connect her lips to your’s, and her mother had rudely interrupted the moment for you both.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n, I-.. I should go and see what it is that she wants, now,” she stated apologetically, and you would frown, before nodding gravely, prompting her to feel worse; she didn’t want to have to leave you like this, affectionately connecting her forehead to your’s whilst she wished things could be different for you both; wished that you both could be together freely, somehow, without having the threat of harassment looming over one another’s heads, “I’ll be back soon, I promise, I-.. just don’t forget that I love you, okay? A-And that I always will, no matter what.”

“I won’t forget, V, d-don’t worry,” you cooed, “I-.. I could never forget - just promise me that you will never forget that I love you, too, a-and I always will, even if you do have to marry-.. t-that guy - my feelings for you will never change because I-”

She would then smile sadly over at you, before delicately connecting her lips to your’s, prompting you to fall quiet, and to instantly melt into the kiss whilst you clung to her shoulders subconsciously, forgetting what you had been about to say; she had been hoping to distract you from the marriage as she could tell that you had been thinking about it a lot recently, and wished she could do more to try and stop it from plaguing your mind any further than it evidently was.

“I’m not going to marry him, I promise,” she insisted, “why would I, w-when I - I’m smitten with you?”

You would appear flustered again whilst your smile grew alongside her own, and your eyes would begin to glint whilst your heart skipped a couple of beats - nothing had ever felt so amazing before, and you loved it, but not as much as you loved her, and knew you always would.

“I - I’m smitten with you, t-too,” you stammered out, prompting her to beam over at you, before she leaned forward to kiss you again a little more passionately, this time, wishing she could deepen it, until she was reminded of her mother wanting to see her as she called for her to come downstairs again, prompting her to grunt, before she begrudgingly held you at arm’s length again, and would briefly entangle the fingers of her right hand within your hair whilst she wished she could stay with you for a little while longer, hating to be away from you as it felt wrong to not be stuck to your side. “I’ll be okay waiting here for you, V, I promise,” you tried to reassure her, and she would hesitate, before nodding gravely, and easing you into a final hug, prolonging it as much as she possibly could.

“I won’t be long,” she replied, and you would nod again, hoping she was right, “I promise - I’m sure she just wants to question me some more, but - we’re gonna be okay, as long as we have each other.”

“I hope so,” you mused, and she would then reluctantly let go of you, before dragging herself toward the library door, and smiling faintly back at you, “s-see you in a bit.”

“See you, kitty, in less than half an hour, I promise,” she returned, before pushing herself to leave the room though she longed to remain by your side, somehow, for the rest of her life, and even beyond it, but her questioning by her mother would end up returning her to you later than she thought it would, worrying you, and even prompting you to leave the room to eavesdrop on her and her mother’s conversation, but it wasn’t long after you had that you found yourself beginning to regret doing so.

🜚

Whilst you were stood outside of the Alfrey’s living room, you would falter upon hearing Vera and her mother’s voice, inching closer to the door so you could hear more of their conversation, wondering why this session of questioning was taking longer than Vera had expected it to.

“For the last time, mother, I am not having an affair,” you heard Vera strain out, prompting you to frown; you could hear that she was trying not to cry, and wished you could enter the room to hug her, and kiss her in an attempt to provide comfort to her, “I could never do that to General Maxwell - I-.. care about him too much to do something like that to him.”

“Really? You care about him? Is that all?” Her mother questioned, and Vera would hesitate, a pained expression on her face, before shaking her head begrudgingly, and trying not to feel guilty though she knew you weren’t in the room with her, and hoped against hope that you were still up in the library though she knew this moment would always burden her own conscience. “Vera-”

“I love him, mother,” she interjected, her voice briefly trembling whilst she did, and her mother would then appear satisfied, glad, “and I could never love anyone else as much as I love her - him, I mean.”

Until Vera had made that mistake, her mother might have believed her, reminding herself of the other pair of undergarments belonging to a maid, prompting her to nod gravely, before she crossed over to the shelf opposite the sofa, and took up the frame she’d had made for her and her husband, Arthur Alfrey’s wedding day.

“You do want to marry him, don’t you?” Her mother inquired, and she would hesitate, finding herself unable to stop it from happening; she just couldn’t shake the guilty feeling she was experiencing whenever she thought back to you, and how she would rather marry you, and spend the rest of her life with you, instead of General Maxwell.

“Of course I do,” Vera mustered faintly in a voice barely audible, “what kind of question is that?”

“I was just checking to see if you were ready to take on such a commitment,” she answered, and Vera would frown, before forcing herself to nod again after her mother had set down the frame again, and was looking back at her, “are you? Because you know what it means to get married, don’t you? You’ll have to tend to him regularly whenever he’s home, and - if you are able - provide him with heirs to continue his family’s legacy - are you ready to do both of those things?”

Vera couldn’t help, but grimace subconsciously whilst she bowed her head, and silently wished she could return to your side, knowing that she would instantly feel better upon being within your embrace again whilst you, too, were struggling to hold yourself together apart from her the way that you currently were, trying not to cry whilst you begged her barely audibly to say no, and to tell her mother that she had no intentions of marrying him to prevent you both from losing one another, somehow, before it got to be too late to do so.

“Readier than I’ve ever been before,” she managed dejectedly, and her mother would smile warmly over at her, glad, before she walked up to her daughter, and would ease her into a hug, prompting Vera to hesitate, before she returned it, and would find herself struggling to fight back her emotions anymore, her tears managing to slowly run down cheeks only to be frequently brushed away by her slightly shaky right hand; she couldn’t believe she’d managed to get her and you into this mess, and hoped against hope that the plan she had in mind to pull out of the wedding last minute would work, and look as if it were just her getting cold feet about the whole idea to protect you, as well as herself, though she found that - whenever she was reminded of the possibility that someone might hurt you for being inverted; attracted to the same sex - she only worried about you, and felt as if she couldn’t worry about herself as much as she did whenever the subject arose of you possibly being hurt; she couldn’t imagine her life without you in it, and so the possibility of her losing you was, and forever would remain to be a terrifying one, no matter what the future might hold for you both.

“I’m proud of you,” her mother cooed, “and I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful mother someday.”

You couldn’t help, but falter again, your heart sinking alongside your demeanour whilst you began to wonder if this was what Vera wanted - something you could never give her: her own children. This thought would prompt you to silently curse yourself for ever thinking that maybe she would truly want to spend her life, as well as possibly the afterlife, with you, leaving you feeling empty, and as if you had nothing left to live for anymore, assuming you were soon going to be losing Vera - the only person who had ever provided you with a reason to since live the moment your gaze had first fallen upon her.

“Thank you, mum,” Vera replied whilst her eyes darkened, and heart began to ache excruciatingly alongside your own; she couldn’t help, but feel as if something else was wrong - as if you knew, somehow, about this guilty conversation, and that was when she heard it - a strained sob escaping your lips upon you finding you could no longer fight it back any longer; the pain was overwhelming, and you would then silently curse yourself for allowing it to sound out, before fleeing from the door, and rushing back up the stairs to get back into the library before they could discover that you had been listening to their conversation.

“What was that?” Her mother mused, startled by the sound as she looked toward the door. “Someone must have been listening to us,” she stated as she hurriedly walked toward the door whilst Vera found she couldn’t follow her, feeling much too numb, and weak to for a moment; she could tell that the sound had come from you, and couldn’t help, but curse herself for not being more careful; she hated hurting you the way she could tell that she had a brief moment ago, “I must go and talk to your father, the head cook, and the new head maid about this; they won’t be happy to hear that someone’s abandoned their duties to eavesdrop on our private matters,” she stated, and Vera found she couldn’t even muster up a response, a hurt look on her face whilst her heart raced overwhelmingly; tormentingly, and she was struggling not to break down alongside you. Her voice was stuck in her throat, somehow, and a lump had formed within it that she couldn’t swallow whilst she stared down at the ground in an attempt to hide that her eyes were full of tears, and cheeks were already partially tear-stained whilst her face was heating up slightly like it did whenever she was trying not to cry in front of her mother the way she was, now, in an attempt to protect you from being discovered, as well as herself. “You’ll be okay, won’t you, Vera?” She concluded, but before she could even force an answer out of herself, her mother would leave her alone within the room, and it was after this moment that she allowed herself to break down, sinking onto the sofa whilst she cried, and sobbed uncontrollably into the palms of her hands; she couldn’t believe she had unintentionally hurt you the way she had, and now feared that maybe she might be about to lose you, somehow, if she didn’t figure out a way of pulling out of the wedding sooner than she had intended to as a result of possibly not being able to manage to try and fix things herself by reminding you of all you meant to her, and of how she could never want anything more, than to be by your side as your lover, and your’s only, and this was what she would try and do, getting up off of the sofa once she felt able, and had managed to calm herself down, determined not to lose you again after she briefly had a few days ago following the excruciating passing of Auntie Isabella.

🜚

Upon getting closer to the library door, Vera would falter, hearing that you - too - were still crying, prompting her heart to sink, and eyes to darken whilst she silently cursed herself for allowing this to happen; she hated hurting you like she could tell she evidently had, making her feel even worse to know that this wouldn’t have happened if she’d been more careful whilst talking to her mother, or had been clearer about how the conversation might go so it wouldn’t surprise you if you ended up listening in following her doing so, but it was too late now to change what had happened earlier; she’d just have to try and fix it before it was too late for her to do so, and this was terrifying considering the fact that she couldn’t imagine her life without you in it, by her side as her soulmate as she was certain that you were her twin soul, now, after everything you’d both already been through together.

She would then timidly draw in a shaky breath, before easing open the door, and you would wince upon hearing it, hastily trying to recompose yourself as you sat up, and would quickly wipe away your tears to the best of your ability, but even if Vera hadn’t known that you had heard the conversation, she would still be able to tell that you had been crying for a little while, now, and she couldn’t bear it, a pained expression on her face when she noticed your tear-stained cheeks, and slightly sore eyes, making her feel even worse for what had happened, as well as prompting her heart to ache a little more excruciatingly whilst she locked eyes with you blissfully for a moment, and this would allow you both to briefly forget about the pain you were in, until you managed to stammer out the words: ‘you’re back’.

“Y-Y/n, I - I’m so sorry,” she managed feebly, before rushing up to you, and throwing her arms around you whilst she sat down beside you on the sofa beneath the stained glass window, and you would subconsciously melt into her embrace instantly, finding you’d missed it whilst she was talking to her mother, before you returned the hug, and would bury your face into the crook of her neck, “I really am - I never meant to hurt you, I swear-”

“Hurt me-?” You interjected, feigning confusion as you glanced up at her for a moment, before forcing a smile as if you were no longer in pain, but she could see through it, and the pain only grew to be even more excruciating for you both as you could tell that she knew; she knew you too well for you to be getting away with shiny smiles around her in an attempt to try and hide that you were in pain as you didn’t want to hurt her, too, making you feel guilty upon realising, and being able to determine by the crestfallen expression on her face that she was in pain, too. “V, you - you’d never hurt me,” you tried to reassure her, before affectionately connecting your forehead to her’s, hoping that this would make her feel better when she only felt worse, and wished you weren’t so good to her after what had just happened a brief moment ago, “I was only worried you weren’t going to come back after half an hour had passed - that’s all; it’s not important, a-and you’re here, now, that’s all that matters-”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/n,” she stated dejectedly, before holding you at arm’s length, and you would tense up, evidently worried about what she might think of you after you had eavesdropped on her and her mother’s private conversation, “I know you heard it, a-and-.. I know I should have told you what we might talk about, first-”

“So-.. you do want to have children in the future with that guy, o-or another one?” You murmured, and she would fall quiet, a hurt look on her face, before she hastily shook her head, and would ease you even closer to her so she could hug you tightly again as if her life depended on her holding you, and never letting you go for fear of her losing everything if she ever ended up losing you, somehow, and to try and provide comfort to her again you would return the hug; you could tell she had also been crying, and had also been upset like you were, making you feel bad for assuming that she wanted more than you as she’d always insisted otherwise, and had been trying to prove it to you everyday to the best of her ability without the others who didn’t already know about you both finding out.

“No, kitty,” she cooed, and you couldn’t help, but smile softly upon hearing the nickname she’d been using for you ever since you’d both been relatively quite smaller, before you had started falling deeply and helplessly in love with one another, “I could never want that - I’ve only ever wanted you, and will only ever want you - I promised, didn’t I?” You would then wince upon remembering that she had, before you began to feel bad for forgetting, and she couldn’t help, but smile lovingly over at you, finding your reaction adorable, before she delicately kissed away the last of your tears on your left cheek, prompting you to giggle softly, before you affectionately connected your forehead to her’s again, and would timidly intertwine the fingers of your hands with her’s, surprising her as she felt her heart skipping a beat, before it began to race blissfully alongside your’s again; you both always seemed to have this reaction to making physical contact with one another, and hoped you’d never lose the feelings you were currently experiencing for one another as they were more perfect than anything either of you had ever felt before whilst you silently revelled in one another’s company for a moment, and couldn’t help, but admire each other, before she managed to find her voice again, stammering briefly as she kept finding herself almost getting lost within your eyes whilst you already had given into her’s, wishing you could be lost within her stunning icy blue eyes for the rest of however long eternity might be, and even beyond that. “You - You told me you wouldn’t forget that I love you,” she reminded you, and you would frown, beginning to feel bad again, before you bowed your head slightly, prompting her to feel a little guilty for bringing it up, “but it’s okay - I forgive you; I’m not upset with you, I promise - I just-.. don’t want you to ever think that there’ll be a time I decide I don’t want you anymore, b-because-.. I could never do that to you, Y/n; you’re everything to me; half my soul, like the poets say, remember? A-And I can honestly say that that’s never going to change; I can feel it - it will always only ever be you for me, n-no matter what - I love you, kitty, m-more than - more than life itself, and I always will, okay?”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you replied playfully, and she would pout; she’d evidently been hoping you would return the three words to her, “what? Was that the wrong answer?”

“Completely wrong,” she answered, before inching closer to you suggestively, and smirking whilst she teased you by brushing her lips against your’s for a moment, prompting you to tense up, and to have your heart begin to pound overwhelmingly whilst you would appear flustered, blood rushing to your cheeks, “what if I told you there might be a prize if you gave me the right one? Would you?”

“E-Er, I-” You stammered shyly, evidently still not used to doing this with her even though you’d had a few moments like these before already; you always found yourself fearing you might disappoint her, somehow, though she knew she could never be disappointed by you; she loved you too much, and revelled in anything she did with you. “V-”

Vera would then appear worried about you, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable as she sat back a little, and would smile reassuringly over at you, before she lifted her right hand up to your left cheek, soothing you instantly, and even prompting you to subconsciously melt into her touch whilst you found yourself admiring her again, soon getting lost within her stunning icy blue eyes in the best way possible.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” she cooed, “we don’t have to; I don’t want you to feel like you do if you don’t feel up for it-”

“N-No, I do, I - I swear, I just-…” You would then fall quiet, a pained expression on your face, before you reluctantly let go of her hands, and would timidly stare down at your own whilst you fidgeted with them anxiously, concerning her even more; she hated seeing you upset like you evidently were, now, and would try and provide comfort to you by inching even closer, and resting her head upon your right shoulder, prompting you to smile faintly subconsciously; you wished you knew what you had done to deserve someone as perfect, kind, and caring as her. “I get scared sometimes,” you admitted dejectedly, “what if - what if I disappoint you, one day? What if-”

“Disappoint me?” She mused, a hurt look on her face whilst she glanced up at you, prompting your heart to sink upon noticing the look on her face; you’d never intended to upset her the way you could see you had, and wished you had never brought it up, now. “Y/n, you - you could never disappoint me,” she contradicted, before wrapping her arms around your waist, and you would try and hide your face from her, evidently embarrassed, as well as ashamed of yourself for assuming maybe you’d lose her if you disappointed her, “I love everything about you; everything that you do, and I’m never going to stop, so don’t ever worry about me being disappointed by you, somehow, because I never will be - s-so-.. would - would you want to-?”

You couldn’t help, but grin down at her, before nodding hastily, and leaning down a little to delicately connect your lips to her own, prompting her to instantly melt into the kiss whilst you both held one another closer to the point that no gaps were left between you both, and you loved it.

“I’d love to,” you answered once you’d reluctantly broken the kiss, and she would then appear elated, her stunning icy blue eyes glinting, before she chimed out the two words ‘I’m glad’, and would lean forward to passionately kiss you, and the moment was perfect, until the library door was opened, and Vera’s youngest sister, Elizabeth, was stood by it, shocked to find you both together, kissing the way that you were, but before either of you could say anything, she would flee from the room, terrifying you both; if you wanted to remain alive today, you’d both need to run away together, and fast.

🜚

“Vera, what - what does this mean-?” You questioned, your voice briefly trembling; Elizabeth had just fled the room, and you were evidently terrified of what might happen to you both. “What are they gonna do to us-?” You then couldn’t help it as you began to cry quietly, considering the possibility that maybe you both would never be able to see one another again, and you couldn’t imagine what your life would be like without her in it, by your side. “Are we gonna die?” You strained out, and Vera would frown, before she hastily shook her head, and rushed to embrace you after she had closed the library door, soothing you instantly as you melted into her arms, leaning heavily against her whilst you clung to her shoulders, and would allow your strained sobs to escape your lips into her left shoulder whilst she rubbed your back using her right hand, desperate to try and calm you as she knew that if she wanted to run away with you - something she had longed to do ever since you’d both confessed your love for one another - she would have to calm you first, and then begin her hopeful escape with you, hoping that you both could hide yourselves within the cornfield for a little while, until nightfall, at least, when she knew you’d most likely not be spotted, and nightfall wasn’t too far away, now.

“They’re never going to get to us, I promise,” she cooed gently, and you couldn’t help, but smile softly upon hearing her voice again, feeling warm and fuzzy as if nothing were wrong; as if you both weren’t possibly about to get hurt for being the way that you were, “I won’t let them, but - Y/n-.. we’re going to have to run, okay? Run, and never look back at the place, until we get to the cornfield - can you do that?”

“I - I think so,” you answered, trying to appear confident, and she would nod, before holding you at arm’s length, glad whilst she smiled reassuringly back at you in an attempt to try and further relax you, and it was working, somehow, quicker than you ever thought it could, prompting you to smile lovingly back at her subconsciously whilst your heart raced blissfully alongside her’s once more, “a-as long as you promise me that we’re never going to lose e-each other, a-and that you will be okay - you matter to me more than I could ever matter to myself, a-and if I lose you, V, I-”

She would then lean forward to delicately connect her lips to your’s whilst she wrapped her arms around your waist, prompting you to fall quiet whilst you melted into the kiss, as well as melted into her embrace again, forgetting what you had previously requested for her to do, until she fulfilled your request - of course she did; she couldn’t not; she loved you too much to leave you worrying about her like that.

“We’re never going to lose each other again, I promise,” she stated, prompting you to express relief whilst you beamed over at her, and would revel in the feeling of her hands being on your cheeks gently, whilst she was partially entangling the fingers of her right hand within your hair, “a-and we’re both going to make it out of here - I’m going to make sure of that, n-no matter what happens, okay? Just know that I love you, a-and that I’m going to stick by your side - just don’t look back if I fall behind-”

You would falter, your eyes widening a little whilst you hastily shook your head, and would subconsciously ease her closer to you protectively, prompting her to smile sadly back at you; she knew that you were scared, and of course she was scared too, but she was certain that you both could get away together without being scratched, somehow.

“V-” You whined, but before you could beg her to take back her advice, shouting would arise from her father downstairs, and you both knew that it was time to go.

“We’re gonna be okay, kitty, I promise,” she insisted, before briefly planting a kiss on your lips to soothe you again, leaving you in a daze long enough for her to delicately grab hold of your left hand in her right one, before she hastily guided you out of the room, and down the staircase intended for maids like you, and gardeners, as well as cooks and butlers servicing the Alfrey’s home, allowing you both to slip through the back door somehow unnoticed, before you ran toward the cornfield hand in hand.

🜚

Once nightfall had finally arrived, you both would hesitantly remain cuddled up together for a little while, wanting to take advantage of the unique view of the night sky as if you both had simply come out here like she would with you when the others hadn’t found out about you yet, either to fool around, or just lay together and admire each other, as well as the night sky.

“The stars are shining brighter than they ever have before tonight,” you mused timidly, and Vera couldn’t help, but smile subconsciously upon hearing your voice beside her, before she beamed over at you, and would intertwine the fingers of her right hand blissfully with the fingers of your left hand, prompting your heart to skip a beat, and you to grow easily flustered whilst you glanced over at her, smiling sheepishly in her direction whilst you both revelled in the perfect moment, wishing it could last forever, somehow, but you knew that - as they’d most likely never find you both in a cornfield like this, the workers would most likely just return to work in the morning, and that’s why you both knew you needed to leave soon, and not remain here for the entire work as the gardeners would most likely locate you both in the morning.

“Maybe it’s a sign; we’re going to be okay, after all,” she speculated, and you would hesitate, a pained expression on your face for a moment whilst you thought about it, your eyes even darkening, and heart beginning to overwhelmingly pound - you were terrified of an alternative reasoning, and of course she was, too, but she didn’t want to think that something might end up going wrong, especially not when she knew she would lose you, if it did, and she didn’t doubt at all that if she ever did end up losing you, it would break her, and leave her feeling lost, as well as as if she had nothing to live for anymore, and she couldn’t let it happen, whilst you were concealing the same fears regarding her, not caring about what they might do to you if you both ended up being caught by them.

Upon noticing your demeanour change, Vera would falter, her smile slowly disappearing; she could tell that you were still convinced that you would both end up getting caught, somehow, though she had hoped you would try and be more positive about the idea, not wanting you to be overwhelmed by worry regarding you possibly losing her. Upon remembering your fears regarding her, and not yourself, her heart would sink - she couldn’t help to think about how you both were being hunted down for being in love with one another, as if it were a crime like treason, and this would spark another thought to invade her mind: what if they hang us if they do end up finding us, somehow? That was another terrifying possibility, but she would try and force the alternative scenarios from her mind, wanting to try and provide comfort to you somehow by inching closer to you, and wrapping her arms around your waist, and her action did seem to soothe you a little more, prompting you to instantly melt into her embrace whilst you returned the hug, and would close the gaps between you both to the best of your ability whilst you affectionately connected your forehead to her’s, prompting her to smile lovingly over at you, and though her smile was infectious, prompting your own to return, you still couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that you would both lose one another today, and it was excruciating to be aware of, especially after you had dreamed so often of spending eternity with her, and dreamt so often of doing everything you could with her, and her only - it was painful.

“Or it could be a warning,” you suggested gravely, and Vera would frown, before subconsciously shaking her head, and entangling the fingers of her right hand blissfully within your hair, “I’m scared, V - if I lose you-”

“You’re never going to lose me, kitty, I promise - they will never find out that we’re here,” she tried to reassure you gently, and you would hesitate, before nodding slowly, trying to hide that you were still doubtful, only because you were terrified of doing anything like this that might pry you both away from one another excruciatingly, somehow, “we aren’t even going to be staying here, remember? Do you want to move, o-or-? I don’t mind getting further away, if you want to-”

You both would then tense up upon hearing voices getting closer; the gardeners must still be searching out here for you, and you would then wince, before timidly inching closer to her, and burying your face into her right shoulder whilst you whimpered quietly, and she would frown, noticing that your body had begun to tremble a little, making her feel bad for not running even further away from the search parties; you were evidently frightened of them, whilst she was trying her best to try and hide her fear to make you feel a little safer.

“Nevermind - I don’t think we have a choice,” she murmured dejectedly, and you would shake your head, before nervously looking around, and noticing the flashlight beams floating around through the cornfield; they were most likely going to start searching here soon, “come on, kitty, we should keep moving - we should be able to find another field somewhere that we can stay in until the morning, and after that we’ll try and find another place to stay - I’m sure we can.”

“Wait-!” You whisper-shouted, and she would lower herself back down beside you again, knowing that if she was crouching for too long she’d eventually be spotted. “I - I might know of somewhere; it’s not much, but - it could be an option, for now,” you suggested, and Vera would appear intrigued, tilting her head partially whilst her eyes glinted a little; she was excited about the idea of possibly being able to begin a new life with you, like you were also elated to be given the opportunity to begin a new life with her, “before my parents died, we-.. we stayed in this shack, a-and I think I can find it from here; I doubt anyone would have bought it, s-so-.. what do you think, V? I’m up for doing whatever you want to do, always, I promise.”

“I think the shack would be a great place to stay, b-because you were there,” she replied, prompting you to appear surprised, as well as a little flustered and flattered; you didn’t think she’d want to go with you somewhere she’d never been before just because you had been there before, “are you ready? I could always try and distract them if you need some more time-”

“No,” you whined, “it’s too risky, V, a-and I don’t want to lose you again, so - I’m ready; let’s go.”

🜚

Though you both seemed to get quite far from the cornfield you had previously been hiding within together, it wasn’t long before you began to struggle to continue after you tripped up, and cried out in agony, startling Vera who faltered, before hastily rushing back to your side, and cradling you close to her whilst she examined your knees, a pained expression on her face when she noticed that your right knee was bleeding; you’d cut it on a sharp rock on the ground, and she couldn’t help, but curse herself for allowing all of this to happen. Despite the fact that she had requested for Violet to watch Elizabeth, she couldn’t help, but feel responsible, knowing that if you’d both been more careful earlier, maybe you wouldn’t have been caught by her, and wouldn’t now have to be running away from her family, excluding her sisters, though it was ludicrous that you both were having to run away like you were in the first place - what was so revolting as well as illegal to them about you both - two women - being in love with one another?

“I’m not going to make it out of here, am I?” You assumed, and Vera would falter upon hearing your voice; you were trying not to cry - the pain was excruciating - though the search parties had already been alerted regarding your and her location, and they were shouting nearby whilst hastily running around the cornfield to try and get to you both.

“Of course you are,” she contradicted gently whilst she lifted her right hand up to your left cheek, soothing you instantly whilst your tears began to run slowly down your cheeks, prompting her to delicately brush them away using the thumb of her right hand whilst she smiled lovingly over at you, trying not to cry as she knew she’d only upset you if she began to cry alongside you, terrified - herself - that maybe this was it for you both; it would be much harder to escape, now, “we can still make it; I’m going to carry you, so you don’t have to run with that knee-”

“No, don’t,” you begged weakly, not wanting her to feel as if she had to do that for you, “I can run still, I swear-”

“I’m not letting you hurt yourself any further than you already have, kitty,” she interjected gently, before she carefully lifted you up off of the ground - the fact that you were somewhat shorter than her helped her as she hastily continued to run as fast as she possibly could away from the house, desperate to get you to safety so she could tend to your wound. You would then cling to her shoulders, not that you were scared of her dropping you; you knew she’d never do that to you intentionally, but you simply loved to be making physical contact with her like you were, now.

You even found your knee was slowly beginning to pain you less whilst you admired her facial features, and couldn’t help, but smile softly up at her whilst you rested your head upon her left shoulder, wondering what you had done to deserve someone as perfect as her.

“You’re so beautiful,” you mused whilst you played with her hair using your right hand, prompting her to appear flustered, beaming down at you for a moment whilst her stunning icy blue eyes began to glint, but you both would appear startled when you heard a dog barking close behind you, panicking her as she pushed herself to run faster, but she knew as well as you and the others that she’d never be able to outrun Auntie Isabella’s doberman, Teddy, and that’s why she got knocked down, but made sure to not let go of you, falling on her back, before she began to try and shoo Teddy away whilst she cradled your trembling body close to her, desperate to keep you safe, and to get you away from her family alive.

“Get away, Teddy!” She cried, and upon recognising her, he would whine; you were both close to him, and had been ever since you’d met, and befriended Auntie Isabella, and instead of trying to lead the others to you both, he would run back to try and distract them to give you both more time, but despite his efforts, and Vera’s attempt to continue fleeing with you in her arms whilst you cried quietly into her left shoulder, desperate for this day to be over, you would both be ambushed by the gardeners, and forced away from one another whilst you both struggled, and cried for each other, desperate to be within one another’s arms again. “Let her go!” She begged shakily whilst her own tears began to stream down her cheeks; she couldn’t help, but break down upon being gingerly parted from you the way she just had been. “Y/n!” She shrieked feebly whilst you tried to kick at the people trying to drag you away whilst Vera’s father rushed up, her mother following closely behind him.

“I should have known,” he spat whilst he looked between you both, scowling; he couldn’t believe he had never noticed that you both were still sneaking around behind his back like you evidently had been, “all these years you’ve been hiding this from me, huh? That you’re one of the inverted? My own daughter?”

“Arthur,” Vera’s mother spoke up timidly; she didn’t like the way he was talking to her, “stop-”

“Stay out of this, Gertrude,” he interjected sharply, before returning his attention to you, prompting you to tense up, terrified as you subconsciously shook your head, and longed for Vera’s arms to be around you, but she was still being restrained by the other gardeners who weren’t holding you back, “I should have known it was you-”

“Father, don’t, please,” Vera begged, “I love her, a-and by hurting her, you’d be hurting me-”

“Oh cry me a river, Vera,” he retorted, prompting her to falter, a hurt look on her face whilst she hastily shook her head again, “I’ll never be able to see you as my daughter again after today; you’re dead to me, and I can’t wait to have you married off to General Maxwell; I’ll never have to see your face again-”

“I hate you!” She cried, whilst her mother would subconsciously grimace over at him, but she knew she’d never be able to change his mind, or stop him from being the way that he currently was, so she would begrudgingly step back, and lower her gaze whilst he stormed up to Vera, and would slap her across the face, prompting her to have to try and fight back a whimper; her left cheek was stinging, and he’d managed to leave a faint red mark on it, but he’d never care, that was made clear when he raised his hand to hit her again, but you couldn’t let him, managing to break free of the gardeners’ hold on you so you could rush up to him, and try and pry him away from her, prompting him to grab you gingerly by your hair, prompting you to cry out in pain again as he forced you away from him, and wouldn’t hesitate to shove you down onto the ground before he began to repeatedly kick at your sides whilst Vera cried, and begged him shakily to stop whilst she struggled against her own restrainers, desperate to save you from him, but they were too strong, and the other gardeners as well as her mother had already managed to pull him off of you whilst you curled up, and sobbed uncontrollably into your left arm, everywhere paining you excruciatingly whilst Vera looked on helplessly, wishing she could cradle you close to her whilst she cooed sweet nothings to you, and tended to the wound on your knee, as well as to the bruises you must have just been administered by her father’s previous beating of you a brief moment ago, now.

“Let me go,” he demanded gruffly, and they would all reluctantly do so whilst Vera’s mother, Gertrude, lingered warily beside him, a pained expression on her face whilst she did - she disapproved of the way he was handling the situation, of course she did, but she knew there was nothing she could do to stop him; knew she would also be accused, and beaten if she opposed him to protect Vera. “You both disgust me,” he concluded, “now get back inside, and go to bed, both of you, and just know that there’ll be no more funny business; you’ll be watched even more closely from now on - come on, Gertrude, Teddy.”

He then turned and began to walk back toward the house whilst Gertrude smiled apologetically back at her daughter, before she followed closely behind him, and Teddy would trot at her side, reluctantly, though he would rather stay with you and Vera, and make sure that you both were okay, but he knew that he’d most likely be hit, or scolded if he did, and so wouldn’t go against his new master’s orders.

“Y/n,” Vera strained out through her shaky sobs, and you would whimper in response to her voice, silently begging for her to stay by your side, “I’m so sorry-”

“Come on, Miss Alfrey - don’t want to upset your father anymore, do we?” One of the gardeners interrupted, prompting her to falter, and to subconsciously shake her head whilst she found she couldn’t pry her gaze from your currently curled up, and trembly frame upon the ground; she couldn’t leave you like this, and knew that if she did, she would never be able to forgive herself, and was terrified of losing you, somehow, if she didn’t try and provide comfort to you after what her father had just done to you.

“I’m not leaving her out here like this,” she managed, “I can’t, I - I just - I just can’t; you don’t understand-”

“We’re sorry, Miss, but-.. it’s your father’s orders-”

“I don’t care about his orders anymore!” She cried, and the gardener would fall quiet for a moment whilst you managed to glance up at Vera, feeling weaker than you ever had before, as well as quite faint.

“V, I-.. I’m okay, don’t-.. don’t worry about me,” you mustered, your voice close to a whisper, and she would hastily shake her head; she wouldn’t leave you alone out here, “just-.. just go back before he comes out, and beats you, too-”

“No,” she whined, “k-kitty, I-.. I can’t-”

“Please,” you pleaded with her, “V, you-.. you have to - do it for me; I’ll be okay, I swear - you’ll see.”

She would hesitate, not sure; she hated the thought of leaving you to suffer like she would be, if she ended up going back inside whilst the gardeners who had previously restrained you would drag you back to the maid’s quarters, and lock the doors before you could slip out, and join her within her own bedroom like you usually had been doing ever since you both were quite small.

“Just-.. promise me you’ll be okay,” she requested, her voice briefly trembling, and you would nod, before managing a faint smile up at her whilst you managed to sit up a little bit more, allowing the gardeners to help you up off of the ground, “o-or I’m not going back - not willingly, at least.”

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” you insisted, and she would express relief, before nodding head head slightly, and looking over at the gardeners who were currently holding you up; you were evidently still struggling to keep yourself up due to the deep cut you’d managed to get as a result of tripping up before you’d both been caught.

“You - You better be careful with her, o-or I swear I’ll-..” She would then fall quiet, noticing you hastily shaking your head; you were afraid of them hurting her if she threatened them, but they understood how you both must be feeling, unlike your father, and so would give in to Vera, nodding their heads to reassure her that they would be careful with you, no intention of worsening the wound and bruises you were currently sporting. “Good - g-goodnight, Y/n,” she replied, glad, and a little more relaxed to know that you would be safe, now, before she returned her attention to you, a pained expression on her face; she dreaded what the night ahead might be like, knowing that you wouldn’t be by her side, this time, and you would smile sadly over at her; you could tell that this must be what she was currently thinking about, alongside you, and she would manage to reflect your smile for a brief moment, before she mouthed the three words ‘I love you’, and you wouldn’t hesitate to return them, as well as a faint ‘goodnight’ whilst the gardeners began to lead you both back toward the house, and to usher you into your bedrooms so they could lock the doors, and ensure that you both wouldn’t be able to get out, and to sleep within one another’s arms again, unwillingly determined - alongside the other workers - to keep you both apart this time.

🜸🜚🜸

Ever since you’d been beaten by her father, Vera couldn’t stop being reminded of that night, even after a few days had passed; she felt awful, and wished she’d done more to try and help you, when really there was nothing she could have done - she had struggled in an attempt to escape the hold the gardeners had on her, only to fail as there were too many of them, by which point he had already been pulled off of you by her mother, and the other set of gardeners who had been holding you before you’d escaped them, and made to fight her father in an attempt to protect her, another fact that also made her feel guilty for not being able to try and protect you after you had made to protect her without hesitation.

With the reminder of that night, and her guilt plaguing her mind, she would find herself not speaking as much as she used to to both Violet, and you whenever you managed to find yourselves in the same room together, except you found it was a lot harder to be alone with her, like her father had made clear it would be the night you’d been discovered to be together by Elizabeth, Vera’s youngest sister. Whenever you did manage to interact with her, she always seemed to be quite distant, and relatively quite dismissive of you, and though it was painful, you found you couldn’t blame her; you, too, felt as if you were to blame for that night, even more so when she decided to approach you one day, only to tell you that she thought it would be better for you both to go back to being friends so she could instead focus on her fiancé, General Maxwell, and though she longed to tell you that she was doing it to protect you upon noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, as if you had just lost everything, and your heart was shattering, she knew that maybe she would still end up hurting you if you kept trying to convince her that she’d never hurt you before; that the events of that night were your fault, and not her’s, to which she knew she’d never be able to corroborate without being in even more excruciating pain, herself, when it was already painful enough to be doing this to you.

“I’m sorry,” Vera concluded in a strained manner, “I-.. I just think it would be the best thing to do for the both of us, but-.. at least we’ll remain to be best friends, right?”

“Right,” you managed, your voice close to a whisper whilst you mustered up a weak smile back at her, “I should-.. c-continue with my work, I guess - see you around, V.”

You would then meander around her, walking hastily toward the library door; you’d recently finished cleaning it, and surprisingly when you had managed to, that was when she’d entered the room upon convincing herself that the only way for her to truly protect you from the wrath of her father, and most likely the law, would be to end her romantic involvement with you, no matter how much it pained her excruciatingly to do so.

“See you around,” she returned faintly, trying to stop her voice from trembling by biting down a little on her tongue; she hated every second of what she was doing, and wished she could take it back as soon as she had allowed the suggestion to slip from her lips, but she would instead try and fight back her emotions to the best of her ability, until you left the room, and closed the door behind you, and once she’d heard that it had closed, and sensed that you were no longer close to her - another excruciating feeling to be aware of as she hated being away from you, and had even begun to feel lost again once the deed had been done, and you were gone - she would allow herself to break down, sinking down onto the sofa you both used to cuddle up upon together whilst she cried, and sobbed uncontrollably into her hands, wishing there was another way to protect you, but she couldn’t think of any that didn’t present any possible threats toward the both of you being hurt again, and she was terrified that maybe she would soon lose you again, somehow. It was strange, but she could feel that something bad would soon occur, as if things hadn’t been bad enough recently, but she wouldn’t realise what the feeling might mean, until a couple more darker days had passed, and the wedding between her and General Maxwell was even faster approaching.

🜸🜚🜸

Though she had been trying to hide that she still had feelings for you, Vera found herself often wishing - whenever you were in the same room (sadly never alone) - that she could wrap her arms around you, and coo sweet nothings to you whilst she left delicate kisses along the soft skin of your neck, and right shoulder; she missed the feeling, and even more so missed the feeling of her lips blissfully fitting together with your’s in the best way possible; it was hard not to kiss you, especially when you were close to her, and not to hold you as she felt warm and fuzzy and more relaxed than she had ever been whenever she was holding you, or being held by you, as if nothing could hurt her, or perturb her whilst she was within your embrace, or holding you as if you were one of the teddy bears her mother had got her when she was smaller. It was painful for her even to imagine how these were feelings she might never experience again, after she’d suggested it would be better for you both to just remain best friends in an attempt to protect you from being hurt anymore than you already had by her father a week or so ago, now.

However, it wasn’t long before she realised that she’d never be able to truly protect you without you getting scathed somehow; her father was making sure to - whenever he got the chance - regularly beat you outside in the garden, as if what he had already done to you wasn’t enough, no matter how much she begged him to stop - he wouldn’t even listen to her mother, Gertrude, whenever she witnessed him beating you, and suggested that you’d had enough, now, and reminded him that you needed to be in good condition to go on working, but that only encouraged him to beat you before you could retire dejectedly to your room within the maids’ quarters, leaving her unsure of what to suggest in an attempt to help you any further than she had tried to - he’d never stop hurting you, believing you had made Vera the way that she was; inverted, like you, when she knew she’d been born this way, and was proud of it - always would be, no matter what they thought of her, and you.

Alongside his beatings of you, he would often invite General Maxwell over whenever he was available to further hurt you, especially by making it so that you had to clean the living room whilst they were all in the room together talking so you had to listen, and absorb painfully every word regarding his and Vera’s wedding day. You didn’t think it could get any worse than this, until he ensured Vera be included within the talks about their future together, only making the pain you were now constantly in even harder to bear than it was, before, leaving you on the verge of breaking down in front of them each time, so you would try and make sure that you were faced away from the group, not wanting to give Vera’s father the satisfaction of seeing you broken, the way he’d been intending to make you ever since he had discovered through Elizabeth, his youngest daughter, that you and Vera had been having a most likely illegal affair.

On one of these occasions, you felt more lost, hopeless, and terrified than you ever had before, prompting you to grow desperate to try and fix things between you and Vera, especially after you had caught her staring guiltily over at you whilst her fiancé and father was talking about their plans to have children in the future - apparently they had discussed it, and she hadn’t told you, when really this came as a surprise to her as he’d never mentioned it to her before, or even asked her if she wanted to have children with him, and that was why - after you’d looked over at her, and briefly locked eyes with her blissfully, prompting your hearts to skip a beat alongside one another - Vera would break the eye contact you were making so unexpectedly to look up fearfully at General Maxwell, prompting you to falter, a pained expression on your face, before you begrudgingly returned your attention to the fireplace you were currently in the process of cleaning whilst they talked, only pushing you even closer to the edge, and making you feel as if you no longer had anything to live for anymore like you had, before you felt as if you had lost Vera again.

“The wedding’s in what-? A couple of weeks, now?” Vera’s father spoke up whilst they began to wrap up the conversation, getting up off of the sofa whilst Vera awkwardly looked on at them, occasionally looking between them both, and you, whenever she got the chance to steal a glance at you, finding herself wishing she could be alone with you - she could tell this was hurting you as excruciatingly as it was hurting her, and she longed to try and provide comfort to you to the best of her ability, terrified that maybe you’d run away, if she didn’t, or would try and hurt yourself, somehow, or even take your life, and all of these possibilities would panic her even more, prompting her to silently beg them to go, knowing maybe she’d have enough time to pass you, and delicately squeeze your hand a little to remind you that she was still there for you, no matter what, before being suspected by her father of trying to do anything more with you, like talk to you, hug you, or kiss you, something he had forbidden her to do now by threatening your health if he ever caught her and you together making contact of any kind. “Me and Gertrude can’t wait,” he continued, “we’re ecstatic; we’ve been waiting to get Vera married off for a while, now - haven’t we, darling girl?”

“That’s because you kept letting in the - bad ones,” Vera uttered, subconsciously grimacing over at General Maxwell in secret; she hated that she wasn’t able to call him all the names she could think of for him in his presence, knowing her father would most likely beat her, too, if she tried, but she wasn’t afraid of him glaring at her subtly the way he was, now; he could tell that she was including General Maxwell within that list, and evidently was silently seething upon being reminded of your and her affair, “you can’t take anyone having certain - expectations, or ideals, can you?”

“Well I’m flattered to hear that I meet your expectations, Miss Alfrey,” General Maxwell remarked, and she would force a smile over at him, “though I already knew I would because I’m immensely popular with ladies like yourself-”

“Immensely popular?” Vera mused subconsciously, and the general would appear taken aback by her interruption, suggesting that she was doubting his statement, something that evidently displeased him as he awkwardly cleared his throat, before clenching his right fist a little; he knew he couldn’t hit her, not yet; it was something he was used to doing, and that’s why he had many ex-wives - some of them had fled from him, and divorced him, whilst others had sadly not been so lucky to escape the beatings he’d administered to them for disagreeing with him, or refusing to tend to some of his certain requirements.

“Vera,” her father warned, and she would begrudgingly give in, though she was pleased to see she had achieved a reaction from the both of them, whilst you appeared nervous, trying to secretly watch them as you were worried about her getting hurt, somehow - you would have however been amused by her remark, if you hadn’t seen her father hit her the way he did the night he beat you. “Anyway - it was nice having you round, General, and I hope you soon find time to come around again someday, either before, or after the wedding would be a good time for all of us, I hope,” he suggested, and General Maxwell would nod, before walking up to the door, and waiting for her father to open it for him, which he did hastily to remain in his good graces.

“I’m sure I could fit in one more day before the wedding,” he answered, and her father would appear glad, excited to hurt you even more, no doubt; he could tell that him having both the general and Vera in the same room as you had had the desired effect he wanted due to how you’d been trying to hide your face from them, and had been making sure to keep your head low - at one point he’d even heard you sniffling quietly, suggesting you had been crying whilst they were talking, “I’ll send you a telegram of the days in question and you can send one back to me of the best day for you and Miss Alfrey.”

“Sounds like a good plan, general,” her father replied, “let me escort you to the front door with Vera.”

“Thank you,” the general responded simply, before stepping out of the room accompanied by her father, and she would then make to follow them whilst you silently found yourself begging her to stay with you; begging her to hold you close to her whilst you cried into the crook of her neck, kissed her, and hugged her tightly - you’d missed having moments like those with her in which you were both blissfully intertwined with one another as if nothing else mattered; only you and her existed, and were the last people to be alive on earth, loving each other as if you were ruling the world together, and only had eyes for one another, and nobody, or nothing else; you could only revel in each other’s presence, and you wished this could be the case; being stuck to her side as her lover was all you could ever want, but it seemed to be impossible, now, and it was excruciating to be constantly reminded of how you both used to be together - so in love, and addicted to one another, but you doubted she’d ever want, or love you again the way you still wanted, and loved her, and knew you always would.

However, when you felt the fingers of her left hand briefly intertwine with the fingers of your currently slightly trembling right one, you would begin to feel hopeless again, and would break down as soon as you lost physical contact with her, shakily mustering out the word ‘wait’ before she could leave the room, prompting her to falter, a pained expression on her face whilst she stood at the door, before glancing back at you whilst her heart ached excruciatingly alongside your’s; you had begun to cry again, and she couldn’t bear to see you like this, wishing she’d never let any of this happen; never let herself accept General Maxwell’s hand; she longed to remain loyal to you, and you only, but it was hard now that her fear of you being hurt anymore than you had been already had been heightened by her father beating you the way he had after he’d found out about your and her affair a few days ago, now.

“V, please-.. don’t-.. don’t do this,” you begged her, and she would feel even worse, her eyes darkening a little whilst she bowed her head to try and hide that tears had begun to cloud her vision again, “you know I still love you, and I know you still love me-”

“I don’t still love you,” she contradicted, prompting you to fall quiet for a moment, a hurt look on your face whilst she tried to recompose herself as if what she was saying wasn’t hurting her, too, “and even if I did, what business is it of your’s?”

“How would it not be my business?” You questioned, and she would frown, before trying to think of an answer, not sure, now, but before she could stammer out a response, you would continue, desperate to fix all that had recently been broken before you could truly lose her, knowing you’d never be able to go on living if you did. “V, I - I need you; I can’t do this without you; I can’t live without you-”

“Why would you even think I still have feelings for you, Y/n? We’re best friends, and that’s all we can be, now-”

“I could feel it,” you stated, surprising her as she glanced up at you, and you would falter upon noticing that she had begun to cry alongside you, prompting your heart to sink even further than it already had, somehow, “w-when you looked at me, and when you held my hand.” You then couldn’t help, but smile softly subconsciously whilst you recalled how blissful both moments had briefly been, and felt, before they’d sadly passed. “I loved it, V; I loved it when you touched me with your eyes, and felt me with mine,” you mused, before timidly inching closer to her, and she found she couldn’t move, glancing down at your lips longingly whilst you both began to feel warm and fuzzy, revelling in the feeling of being so close to one another again, “I love you, Vera Alfrey, a-and-.. I always will, I promise, even if you do decide to marry the general; I will never stop waiting for you, as long as-.. as long as you tell me you still love me, l-like - like I love you.”

Vera would hesitate, though it was taking everything within her to stop her from admitting to you her feelings for you, longing to make you happy again by reassuring you that she did still love you, and knew she always would, and she might have gone through with it, until she was reminded of her father’s threat when she heard him shouting for her to follow him and the general, prompting her heart to sink, and her eyes to darken again whilst she shook her head gravely, and would step back; she couldn’t let you get hurt anymore than you already had, knowing that you most likely would if she got back together with you. Of course her reaction disheartened you, prompting a strained sob to escape your lips whilst you shook your head hastily, and would try and get closer to her only to have her move away once more, prompting you to falter whilst you began to feel empty, and lost again, as if everything within you was collapsing, and your heart was failing you; you couldn’t believe - after everything you had both been through together - that you were losing her like you could excruciatingly see you were, but at the same time you couldn’t blame her, believing you only had yourself to blame for supposedly driving her away from you being the way that you were, when it had been her father’s abusive, and threatening tendencies that had been dissuading her from you; she couldn’t let him do anything more to you, and so was determined to try and protect you from him doing so to the best of her ability, no matter how much it pained you both following her attempting to do so.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but-.. you should move on, now,” she advised, trying not to allow her voice to tremble by biting down on her tongue for a brief moment whilst she lowered her gaze again to hide that more tears had invaded her stunning icy blue eyes, “I did, a-and you won’t regret it, I promise - will you try and do that, for me?”

“Of course, Miss Alfrey,” you murmured, before returning to your work, and she would frown, not wanting you to think you couldn’t call her ‘V’ anymore, but before she could reassure you that you could, her father would impatiently call for her again, and she could hear his footsteps fast approaching, prompting her to wince, and grow worried that he would hurt you again, but at the same time she found it felt wrong to leave you like this, “you-.. you should go, before-.. before he hurts you; he sounds mad, a-and-.. your fiancé’s probably waiting to say goodbye; don’t leave him hanging, or he’ll start fretting that maybe a nobody like me means something to you-”

“Y/n,” Vera whined; she hated hearing you putting yourself down like you just had, and wished she could do more for you, somehow; wished she could take back the time, and fix all that had gone wrong between you both recently to try and make both you and her happy again, “d-don’t say stuff like that; you’re not a nobody-”

“I’m a nobody to everyone,” you uttered, “I always have been - I don’t know why I ever thought things could be different, after my parents chose death over me-”

“That’s not true; you mean everything to me, and your parents had no choice; they were sick, Y/n, and Auntie Isabella said nobody had developed a cure yet for an illness like the one they had,” she reminded you, and you would scoff, evidently not believing her, before you got up, and poured the dust, as well as Teddy’s fur into the bin bag you had been using to collect up the remnants of fur and dust within the room, “it’s true - kitty, please, don’t go like this, t-thinking such things about yourself, and your parents, because nothing of what you think right now is true-”

“Except for one thing,” you managed feebly, your voice briefly trembling whilst you did, before you stopped by the door of the living room to glance back at her dejectedly, “I love you, Vera Alfrey, and that’s all I truly know now - I’m sorry I wasted your time.” You then pushed yourself to leave the room, hastily walking toward the dining room to set up the table ready for them to be served their dinner whilst tears streamed down your cheeks, and you would try and fight back the remaining sobs fighting to escape your lips; you’d told a lie - your love for her wasn’t the only thing you knew, now. The other fact you were certain of was that by the end of the day, you would no longer exist, not without her.

🜚

After Vera had finally managed to get her father off her case for the day following her being forced, and refusing to eat dinner whilst she awkwardly sat at the dinner table - knowing she wouldn’t be allowed to dismiss herself to go and look for you, no matter how much she longed to do so, getting a bad feeling again, as if something was wrong, concerning you - she would hastily rush around the house, desperate to find you, and make sure that you were okay to quiet her panicked mind, but despite her efforts, you were nowhere to be found within it, further terrifying her, and fuelling her suspicions that you’d run away, or had done something to yourself.

It wasn’t long after she’d failed to find you that she began to find herself on the verge of breaking down again, tears clouding her vision whilst she hopelessly looked back through the rooms she had already searched, not sure what else to do, until she was reminded of the lake you both often liked to sit together by whenever you got the chance to during the night, finding it was relaxing, and a nice place to be to forget about her family, and her fast approaching marriage to General Maxwell, allowing you to focus on one another, and the love you held, and knew you always would hold, for each other, and the reminder of the location would prompt her instantly to rush down the stairs, only to be stopped by Violet, bumping into her in the hallway; she looked as if she were preparing to go to bed, already, but Vera found herself too worried about you to wonder why Violet would want to retire upstairs so early - little did she know, Violet couldn’t take anymore of their mother and father bickering about how he was treating Vera and you; it was tiring to listen to considering the fact she knew that her father would always win the argument, no matter what her mother might come up with, her arguments making more sense than his ever could whenever he was in a state of rage and frustration whenever the subject of your and Vera’s affair was brought up the way it had been not too long ago, now, in the living room whilst Vera had desperately been searching for you around the house, only to fail, and conclude that you must be outside somewhere - most likely by the lake.

“V-? Where have you been?” Violet questioned sleepily, and Vera would wince, trying to recompose herself for a moment, before she managed to stammer out a response a little shakily; she was terrified of getting to the lake, and finding you not there, and couldn’t imagine what her life might be like without you in it, if you had decided to run away somewhere without her.

“I - I can’t find Y/n,” she answered, and Violet would realise, before frowning whilst she, too, began to appear worried about you; it wasn’t like you to just disappear like you evidently had, “can - can you help me?”

Violet would then nervously look toward the living room - either their mother, or father had coughed - before she expressed relief, and would nod hastily; she couldn’t not help look for you; you were her friend, too, and she knew you and Vera meant a lot to one another, so naturally didn’t want to see either of you getting hurt anymore than you already had by losing each other, somehow, knowing the happiest you both had ever been was during the moments you spent together as she’d never seen you both happier outside of those moments.

“Of course I can, come on - we’re going to find her together, I promise,” she answered, and Vera would express relief, before she exasperatedly replied ‘thank you’, and would follow closely behind her out the back door so they could both sneak around the cornfield, and rush toward the lake quite low to remain unseen, until they had successfully made it off of the property, and therefore had reached the lake after running a few more paces only to be stopped in their tracks by the blurry sight of a figure in a white night gown at the bottom of it, and small traces of blood lingering by the edge of it - someone had tried to drown themselves, and Vera couldn’t shake her suspicions; the blood was fresh, and the night gown reminded her of your own: it had to be you.

🜚

Violet would gasp beside her upon the both of them finding the body in the lake, not sure how to react, until Vera had convinced herself there might still be time for her to try and bring you back to her, and without hesitation she would then dive into the water, and push herself to swim down to the body, allowing her to see that it was your’s, now, prompting her heart to begin pounding whilst she grew even more desperate to get you out, and Violet would watch anxiously, not sure what to do; she even couldn’t help, but begin to cry quietly whilst she begged Vera silently to come back, terrified of what might happen to her if she stayed under the water for too long, but she was determined to save you, and vowed to not emerge from the lake without you in her arms.

Once she had finally managed to get down to you, she would hastily wrap her arms around you, surprised to find that you were heavier than you usually were, and that was when she noticed the pockets of your night gown - they were full of something, but she wasn’t worried about that right now, focused only on saving you as she pushed herself to swim back up to the surface whilst still holding you close to her, allowing herself to breathe, and splutter a little once she had broke the surface of the lake. Upon noticing her, Violet would express relief, before she encouraged for her sister to move closer so she could help her and you back onto the ground.

Vera would - though she was beginning to tire at this point - push herself to continue swimming back toward her sister, and would be relieved once she felt that she was back on the grass, you still within her arms. As soon as Violet noticed you, she would appear shocked, wondering how this had happened to you, until Vera laid you down on your back, and would tearfully lift her left hand up to your right cheek whilst she begged you shakily to wake up, feeling more lost, and scared than she ever had before upon finding that you were in the state you currently were - unconscious, and barely breathing, except whenever you did breathe she could hear it sounded wheezy, further worrying her as she realised that your lungs must have been invaded by the water making up the lake.

“We should try and get help for her,” Violet mused, “I could, if you want to stay?”

“No, d-don’t,” she answered hastily whilst she protectively cradled your body close to her again, “they’ll only try and take her away from me-”

“Yeah, but-.. if we don’t-.. Y/n could die, you know that, right?” Violet reminded her, and Vera would falter, before shaking her head; she was determined to save you herself, somehow, and Violet would frown, before deciding to respect her decision, and crouch down beside you both whilst Vera laid you back down again carefully, and would try and listen to hear if your heart was still beating, but she couldn’t hear much over her own heart pounding, overwhelming her.

“I - I need to try and get her heart to beat again,” she mused shakily, “I can’t hear it-”

“Try doing the chest compressions we saw mum do on Auntie Isabella,” Violet suggested, “it sounds like she’s still breathing, so it could work-”

“Y-Yeah, but - Auntie Isabella died that day anyway-”

“That was different,” she insisted, “hurry, V, or else we’ll lose Y/n, too.”

“Okay, e-erm,” she responded, “I’ll try.” Vera would then try and calm herself down, before she began to perform the chest compressions on you, silently begging at the same time for you to return to her whilst Violet tried to listen for your heart beat, hoping against hope alongside her that you would soon wake up so they could both try and make you happy again after all that had recently happened between you and Vera. “C-Can you hear anything?” She inquired, her voice briefly trembling whilst she was finding herself trying not to break down again, terrified that today might truly be the day she ended up losing you, as well as herself, and this thought would prompt her heart to begin overwhelmingly pounding again, making her feel sick, but she found she couldn’t worry about whether she was about to be sick, or not, especially not whilst you were in the state you currently were.

“I’m not sure; it’s - it’s so quiet; I’m scared, V-”

“I’m not losing her again,” she interjected feebly, before continuing with the compressions to the best of her ability, determined to bring you back to her, somehow.

“I can’t even tell if she’s breathing anymore,” Violet murmured dejectedly, “Vera, maybe-.. maybe it’s too late; maybe she’s already-..”

“She’s not dying, Violet!” Vera cried, and then couldn’t hold it back any longer as a strained sob would escape her lips, before she doubled over, and would try and get you to start breathing again, though it was a struggle for her to perform mouth to mouth resuscitation after she had begun to break down. “I’m not-.. I can’t lose her,” she added shakily in a voice close to a whisper whilst she buried her face into the crook of your neck, and would cry quietly into it, not sure what else to do as she began to feel lost, and numb all of a sudden, as if she was being hollowed out by the possibility of you dying on her, “please come back, kitty - I’m so sorry, I-.. I should never have let any of this happen, I know, I-.. I love you so much; I could never stop, n-no matter what. Y-You know what? I’d even-..” She then affectionately connected her forehead to your’s whilst she lifted her right hand up to your left cheek, and Violet would watch you both with a pained expression on her face. “I’d even follow you to the ends of the universe if you asked me to,” she expressed, “just-.. please come back, and I swear I’ll try and do things differently this time; I’ll try and fix everything, b-because-.. you’re more important to me than life itself, and I’m not ready to lose you; I’ll never be ready to lose you, so please don’t go when we have so many more memories to make together - please, Y/n.”

“V,” Violet began again gently, but Vera wouldn’t dare acknowledge her, focusing instead on you whilst she began to try and get your heart beating again, “V, stop, she’s-”

You then began to splutter out the water that had invaded your lungs whilst you coughed, and occasionally choked on it, crying quietly whilst Vera’s eyes began to glint, and heart would skip a beat whilst she held you close to her, and would smile lovingly down at you, elated to find that she hadn’t lost you like she had previously feared she would.

“Hey,” she cooed whilst you sobbed quietly, and weakly into her right shoulder, trembling within her embrace; you were evidently in shock after what you’d just experienced, “hey, it’s okay now, kitty; you’re okay - I’ve got you, a-and I’m never letting you go again, I-.. I love you so much, a-and I always will, no matter what, I promise-”

“V?” You mustered in a voice weak, barely audible, and quite raspy voice; you didn’t think she’d come looking for you after all that had happened between you both recently, prompting your heart to sink upon remembering it, and your eyes to darken a little. “V, why-.. why did you-? I thought-..” You then winced; your voice was failing you again, and it was evidently straining your lungs to try and continue, worrying Vera as she shook her head, and would delicately connect her lips to your’s for a moment to prompt you to fall quiet, and instantly melt into the kiss whilst you began to feel warm and fuzzy, your heart blissfully racing alongside her’s in the best way possible the way you’d missed to feel it do recently.

“You need to rest, now,” she advised, “you’ve already been through enough tonight, a-and-.. I won’t-.. ask you yet if-.. if this was an accident, I-..”

“I thought I lost you earlier, V,” you admitted dejectedly, prompting her heart to sink whilst she nodded gravely, wishing she’d never been so distant with you, now; she doubted this would have happened if she’d told you the truth earlier; told you that she still loved you, and was just trying to protect you from her father to the best of her ability after she’d seen you getting beaten by him a few times now, and it was excruciating to know that she couldn’t do anything more about it, knowing her father would never stop, until he’d beaten you to death, or until you couldn’t work anymore, and he’d have to then throw you back out onto the streets, but she was determined to find a way to stop him, somehow; determined to not let him hurt you anymore - she was certain she could, and couldn’t bear to even think about the possibility of you getting hurt anymore than you already had after today. “I didn’t know what to do anymore,” you mustered feebly whilst small tears managed to leak from your eyes again, and she wouldn’t hesitate to delicately brush them away using the thumb of her right hand, whilst finding herself fighting back her own tears again; she couldn’t believe she’d driven you to try and take your life like that, “I’m so sorry-”

“No,” she interjected, not wanting you to feel as if you had to apologise when she blamed herself for not telling you the truth earlier, “Y/n, don’t-.. don’t apologise, it’s my fault-”

“That’s not true,” you whined; you believed you were to blame for it, being the way that you were, and deciding to try and take your life the way you had - you could have stopped yourself from leaving cuts along your arms; you could have stopped yourself from filling the pockets of your nightgown with the stones, and you could have stopped yourself from then throwing yourself into the lake to sink to the bottom of it. “V, I was the one who tried to take my life, in the first place; you-.. you had nothing to do with it, I swear-”

“You would never have done it if I’d told you the truth, earlier,” she contradicted, a hurt look on her face whilst the tears would manage to escape her stunning icy blue eyes, prompting you to falter, not sure what to say, but you still shook your head subconsciously, not wanting her to think that she had been the one to make you do something like this to yourself, “I should never have treated you like that, I-.. I should have just been honest, and told you that I still wanted you, a-and could only ever want you; I was just acting as if I no longer felt the same way because I thought that I’d be protecting you if I did; I never thought-.. thought that I’d make you want to-.. do this to yourself.. I guess I should have thought about that before-.. before I said all that I did to you earlier. W-Where did the blood come from?”

“I just-.. accidentally tripped over again, a-and-.. I’m fine, now,” you tried to reassure her, but you could tell that she knew you were lying to her when you noticed the crestfallen expression on her face; she couldn’t believe she’d driven you to hurt yourself so much, “don’t worry about me.”

“Just-.. promise me something,” she requested, and you would nod hastily; you’d do anything for her, “promise me you’ll never-.. never try and do this to yourself again - I can’t live without you, a-and - I really thought that maybe I’d lost you back there; it was painful, Y/n, a-and I honestly don’t think I can take it again-”

“You’ll never have to, I promise,” you tried to reassure her, “I’ll never do it again, I swear, n-not now that I know that you do still want me, t-though I can’t imagine why-”

“Hey,” she interrupted gently, “of course I still want you; you’re everything to me, kitty, a-and that’s never going to change, I promise, n-no matter what - you mean so much more to me than you think you do, and I swear I’m going to try and prove my feelings for you from now on; I’m gonna get rid of the General for us, and we’ll run away together, h-how does that sound?”

“T-That sounds - amazing,” you answered whilst you appeared flustered for a moment; you didn’t think she’d still want to run away with you after what had happened the time you had both tried to run away before, “I’d love that, V; I love you so much, y-you know that, right?”

“You guys are putting me to sleep, stop,” Violet teased, prompting you both to giggle softly together, before you smiled lovingly up at one another, easily getting yourselves lost within each other’s eyes, “get a room, seriously; you look like you need one-”

“Violet,” Vera replied, evidently also growing to be flustered alongside you, prompting her sister to begin giggling alongside you, too, amused by her reaction, “haven’t you got that birthday ball to get to tomorrow? You must need some sleep for it, surely.”

“I guess you’re right, but - I’m not going to bed, until you both do,” she decided, prompting Vera to grin, before she shook her head, and would glance back down at you whilst Violet would appear smug, “besides - you have to go with me to it, remember? I may as well go to bed when you do.”

Vera would then wince upon remembering how she’d agreed - reluctantly - to attend the ball tomorrow; it was only because her sister had practically begged her, not wanting to go without her as she didn’t often tend to get along with Elizabeth, their younger sister, that well, especially after she’d ratted her and you out to their father upon walking in on you both kissing.

“I forgot I agreed to that,” she admitted, and you couldn’t help, but grin when you noticed the look on her face, finding it adorable, like you believed her entire being to be, “I’m so sorry - kitty, do - do you think you’d be able to come, too, or-?”

“I guess I could try and sneak in,” you mused, before shrugging, and smiling sheepishly up at her upon noticing her eyes glinting again, and that she was silently begging you with them to keep you both company, “I’d love to; I - I’d do anything for you, V.”

Vera would appear flustered, wondering what she had done to deserve someone as good as you, before she smiled warmly down at you, and would timidly lean down to delicately connect her lips to your’s again, prompting you to instantly melt into the kiss whilst you wrapped your arms around her waist blissfully, and she would return the hug, soothing you as you melted into her embrace, wondering the same thing; you never thought someone as perfect as her would ever love a supposed nobody like you, until the night you had both first properly kissed, and made love following you both finally confessing to having feelings for one another.

Once the kiss had sadly ended, you would wear a dazed expression on your face; it would always amaze you to feel how much every kiss you both shared always seemed to be as perfect, or even more perfect than the first had been.

“I’d do anything for you, too,” she returned whilst she affectionately connected her forehead to your’s, lifting her right hand up to your left cheek against whilst you both admired one another’s eyes, and found yourselves longing to kiss again, though you knew it was most likely awkward for Violet to be watching the way she currently was, not sure what to do with herself whilst you both couldn’t help, but be all over each other the way you were, now, addicted to one another, and revelling within each other’s presence, “a-and I’m going to do more to prove that to you, I promise-”

“No, V,” you interjected gently, “you don’t have to; I - I already know you would; you have nothing to prove to me, so please don’t ever worry that maybe I’m doubting your feelings for me, b-because-.. because I could never do that to you - I guess I just have these moments sometimes when I think you deserve better than me; t-that I’m not enough for you, and I wish I could stop, but-.. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” she cooed, soothing you instantly, and making you feel warm and fuzzy again, “s-soon you’ll never have to worry about having doubts like that again, I promise, because even if you don’t want me to prove my feelings for you, I’m never going to stop, but you probably knew that already, knowing me.”

“I thought you’d say that,” you agreed, before smirking up at her, “and you probably won’t be surprised to hear that I’m never going to stop trying to prove my feelings for you, either.”

“I’m glad,” she remarked, before longingly brushing her lips against your’s, until she remembered Violet, and begrudgingly would force herself to pull away, and smile over at her sister whilst you would wince, before doing the same; you both often easily seemed to get lost, and absorbed within one another in the best way possible to the point that it often felt as if you were the only two people left on earth, “well - I guess we should get back inside before anyone starts wondering where we are, and we don’t want to be tired tomorrow, do we? Especially not when we have some dancing to do.”

You would appear surprised, as well as a little nervous as you weren’t used to dancing, but you would try and hide this from her, worried about what she might think of you if you admitted to this, so instead you would agree alongside Violet, before beaming up at Vera again.

“I can’t wait,” you chimed, when really you were terrified; you knew you’d only embarrass yourself in front of her if you tried to dance with them both, though you couldn’t imagine why as you knew she wouldn’t be upset with you for not telling you something like that, “I - I love dancing.”

“Good, because that means you’ll love the ball,” she replied, “come on - let me carry you back; I want you to get some rest for tomorrow; you need it-”

“No, V, you - you don’t need to do that for me; I think I can walk-”

“Too bad,” she remarked, before picking you up carefully off of the ground, prompting you to squeak, before you clung to her shoulders, and would bury your face into the crook of her neck whilst she giggled in response to your reaction, “I’m not making you walk back; you’ve been through enough today - come, Violet; you need sleep too.”

“I’d love some,” Violet stated, before getting up off of the ground, and following Vera back toward the house so you could sneak back inside through the back door, before rushing up to your rooms; the maids’ quarters would already be locked, so you could join Vera within her own bedroom to cuddle up with her, and fall asleep blissfully within her arms like you both used to, before her father had beat you the night you’d both tried to run away together, despite you both still being in your damp clothes, but you wouldn’t get any sleep that night, silently worrying about how she might react when she finds out at the ball tomorrow how terrible a dancer you really are, and always have been.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed it! ❤️