#old lace villa

[rose24207]

Family Business

Summary: An evening where Lando and his wife recognise themselves in their children.

Genre: Mafia!Dad!Lando, fluff

TW: None

A/N: I have like so many stories in my drafts and just post them because why not? English is not my first language! I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Should I make a series out of this?

Masterlist

The grand villa was alive with laughter and warmth, an unusual sight for a house belonging to one of the most feared mafia families in Europe.

Lando Norris, heir to the Norris empire, sat at the head of the massive dining table, a glass of red wine in hand. The glow of the chandelier above reflected in his sharp eyes, but there was a softness to him tonight.

To his left sat you, his wife, the polar opposite of his ruthless world.

Where he ruled with strategy and precision, you led with compassion and kindness. You had a unique ability to bring light to the dark corners of his life, and tonight was no exception.

You were serving dessert yourself, much to the dismay of the staff.

“Madam, please,” Maria, the head of the kitchen, protested. “This is our job.”

“Oh, nonsense,” you said with a warm smile, placing a plate of chocolate cake in front of one of the guards. “You all work so hard. Let me treat you for once.”

Lando watched you with a mixture of amusement and adoration. The hardened men who feared his orders like gospel melted under your kindness, mumbling grateful thanks as you handed out plates.

Across the table, your children were mid-debate.

“No, no, you don’t get it,” Amelia, your ten-year-old daughter, argued, her small hands slamming the table for emphasis. “Papa’s the coolest. He’s strong, and smart, and everyone listens to him. I’m gonna be just like him!”

Lando smirked at that, leaning back in his chair. “Is that so, Amelia?”

“Yup!” She nodded confidently, her dark curls bouncing. “I’ll run the family business one day. Better than you, even.”

“Ambitious,” Lando said, raising his glass in mock salute. “I like it.”

Your eight-year-old son, Jacob, rolled his eyes. “You’re all so dramatic. Mama’s the best. She’s nice to everyone, and she doesn’t yell like Papa.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “I don’t yell.”

“You yelled at Uncle Carlos last week,” Jacob pointed out.

“That was a strategic discussion,” Lando replied, struggling to keep a straight face.

You laughed, shaking your head as you returned to your seat. “Jacob’s right. You do yell.”

Amelia crossed her arms, glaring at her brother. “You’re too soft, Jacob. How are you supposed to run the business if you can’t even scare anyone?”

“I don’t want to run the business,” Jacob said matter-of-factly, stabbing his fork into his cake. “I’m going to be a veterinarian.”

“A vet?” Amelia wrinkled her nose. “That’s boring.”

“Amelia,” you chided gently. “It’s not boring if it’s what Jacob wants. Besides, being kind is just as important as being strong.”

Amelia huffed, but your words sank in.

Lando observed the exchange quietly, marveling at the balance you brought to their lives.

Later that evening, after the kids had gone to bed, you and Lando sat on the terrace overlooking the gardens. The night air was cool, and the stars were scattered across the sky like diamonds.

“She’s got your fire, that one,” you said, leaning against Lando’s shoulder.

“And he’s got your heart,” Lando replied, lacing his fingers with yours. “We’re raising a mini us, you know.”

You laughed softly. “Is that a good thing?”

Lando kissed the top of your head. “The best thing.”

For a moment, the world outside the villa—his world of deals, betrayals, and shadows—felt far away.

Here, with you, with his children, he was simply Lando. A man who had everything he’d ever wanted, and more than he thought he deserved.

As the staff cleared the dining room below, they whispered among themselves, as they always did.

About how Mr. Norris was terrifying, yes, but also fiercely devoted to his wife.

About how Madam Norris made their lives better with her warmth and generosity.

About how the children were growing into reflections of their parents—Amelia, bold and determined, and Jacob, gentle and kind.

It wasn’t a typical mafia family, no. But it was theirs. And that was more than enough.

Thank you for reading!

[grapejuicenharry]

Based on this request.

warnings: body image struggles, plus size Y/N, h being a caring bf, smut, eating out.

a/n: I hope anyone reading this knows you’re beautiful, you’re enough, and so damn worthy of love. I love you!

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ YN stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. Today, she and Harry were supposed to go to the beach, just steps away from the villa where they were staying. Harry had just finished his grueling tour, and after months and months of nonstop traveling, they both deserved a break. Though Y/N loved being by his side, supporting him city after city, it had been exhausting. Early flights at ungodly hours, constant hotel stays, meeting fans, and late nights had all taken a toll. Somewhere in the midst of it all, she had gained weight.

She had never had a model's figure. Long, sleek legs, a tiny waist, and a perfect zero-figure weren't part of her reality, and she'd been okay with that. Harry loved her just as she was, and most of the time, she felt the same. But being in a relationship with someone in the public eye—a celebrity surrounded by people who looked like they'd stepped out of a magazine—had its challenges.

Early on in their relationship, her insecurities had been nearly crippling. She would question why Harry, of all people, had chosen her when he could easily have been with a Victoria's Secret model. She'd dreaded date nights that called for tight dresses, knowing paparazzi would be lurking, ready to snap pictures that would fuel online trolls. The cruel comments about her curves, dips, and imperfections had, at times, driven her to delete social media entirely. It drained her, chipped away at her confidence.

Through it all, Harry had been her rock. He was unwavering in his reassurance, always reminding her that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He loved every inch of her—her stretch marks, her soft tummy, her thick thighs. The very things she'd once loathed, he cherished. He'd tell her over and over that the people behind the screens didn't matter, their words nothing but venom from people who didn't know her. To prove his point, Harry had deleted his own social media accounts, wanting to shield her from the negativity.

With time, therapy, and Harry's love and support, Y/N had begun to heal. She learned to love her body—her curves, her softness, the parts of her that made her unique. She started embracing her style, wearing figure-hugging dresses that made her feel powerful, slipping into bikinis at the beach just to see Harry's jaw drop. She even found herself smiling at her stretch marks, loving the way Harry would trace them with his fingers or kiss them as if they were works of art.

But today, as she stared at herself in her favorite blue bikini, those old doubts crept back in. She noticed the weight she'd gained—the way her fuller breasts sagged slightly in the top, how the stretch marks on her stomach seemed more pronounced, and the cellulite on her thighs more noticeable. Tears prickled in her eyes as she struggled to see the beauty Harry always claimed to see. Rationally, she knew these weren't flaws; they were simply parts of her. But in this moment, she wished she could make them all disappear.

“Love, you ready—?” Harry emerged, clad in his dark green bottoms. His face immediately frowning at the sight of her.

“Baby? What happened? Have you been crying?” He asks her, concern lacing his voice. 

She simply shakes her head while her eyes blurring with unshed tears. She didn’t want him to see her like this. 

Harry’s brow furrowed in concern as he crossed the room quickly. His large hand cupped her cheeks, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. Tell me what’s going on.” He demanded softly, concern lacing his voice. 

Y/N simply shook her head again, trying to look away, but Harry wouldn’t let her. His thumb brushed away the tears that spilled over, his eyes boring into hers. “Talk to me, baby. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” he whispered gently, pressing a kiss on her forehead. 

“It’s nothing,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Bullshit,” His response was immediate, but his tone gentle. He glanced down at her body, his hands sliding down from her face to rest on her waist. “Is this about you in that bikini?” He guessed, and the way her eyes widened slightly gave her away. 

“I just… don’t feel good in it, okay? I’ve gained weight, and I don’t—“ Her voice cracked, and she turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. “I just don’t feel like… me anymore.”

Harry let out a long breath before coming behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. Pulling her flush against her chest. “Baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. “Do you even know what I see when I look at you?”

She sniffled, shaking her head, unable to find words to reply. 

“I see the sexiest, most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid my fucking eyes on,” He said, “I see the woman who drives me crazy every time she walks in a room. I see my woman. And you in this bikini?” He chuckled softly, his hands moving to rest on her hips. “You look so fucking good, it hurts. You think I’d let you go out in this without keeping my hands on you the whole damn time?” 

Y/N laughed weakly despite herself, her head falling back against his shoulder. “You don’t mean that,” she murmured. 

Harry turned her gently so she was facing him, his hands gently cupping her cheeks as his thumb stroked against her soft skin. “I do mean it. Every word. And if you’re thinking for one second that you’re not good enough, I swear to God, baby, I’ll spend all day proving you wrong.” 

Her cheeks flushed at the way his eyes darkened, the intensity of his gaze making her shy and blush. “Harry…”

“No, don’t ‘Harry’ me.” His lips curled into a smirk as he leaned down, brushing a kiss to her lips before pulling back just enough to speak. “You’re mine, Y/N. Every inch of you. Every stretch mark, every curve, every little thing you think is a flaw? It’s mine, and I fucking love it.” 

Her heart swelled at his words. How could he love her so much? How had she gotten so lucky? He always seemed to know the right things to say, and this was exactly what she needed to hear from him. All of her insecurities slowly washed away.

“I love you,” she whispered before wrapping her arms around his neck, holding him tight.

He held her just as fiercely, one hand cradling her head and the other gripping her waist as if he couldn’t bear to let go. 

“And I love you more, always,” he murmured back, pressing a kiss to her temple. Pulling back slightly, he gave a cheeky grin. “Now, are we gonna hit the beach, or do I need to spend the next few hours worshipping you here in this bikini until you see what I see?”

Her cheeks burned as she smacked his chest lightly, “Harry!” 

He just laughed, catching her hand and bringing it to his lips. “You decide, baby. Either way, I’m not letting you go.”

Harry still remembers the first time he saw Y/N. She was standing in the front row at his concert, laughing and dancing with her friends. That pink, deep-neck top and sparkly mini skirt she wore had him hooked from the second his eyes landed on her. But it wasn't just her outfit—it was the way she carried herself, completely carefree, singing his lyrics that left him breathless. 

His gaze kept slipping back to her. Those thick, plush thighs, her curves that seemed to demand his attention, and those damn red lips. He never wanted to taste anything more in his life. Every time she twirled, her skirt would ride up just slightly, teasing him, and it took every ounce of control not to let his thoughts wander further. She had his undivided attention for the entire night, and she didn't even know it.

For the entire concert, his gaze kept slipping back to her. Looking at her swaying her hips and laughing without a care in the world. Even as he moved across the stage, his body gravitated toward her side. He wanted to make sure she was still there, still singing, still having the time of her life. By the end of the concert, he’d nearly forgotten there was anyone else in the crowd.

He didn’t waste any seconds before asking the security to bring her backstage. When she walked into that room, radiating that same infectious energy, he was gone. 

The moment she smiled at him, her voice like honey as she greeted him, Harry knew she was it for him.

  ༘ ˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚                                                                

The weather outside was perfect—a pleasant warmth filled the air, the sun shone brightly behind warm clouds, and the water was the ideal temperature. Summertime in Italy was Y/N and Harry’s favorite escape, their little getaway from the chaos of city life. 

They’d spent the last hour in the water, swimming and enjoying the water, though she was trying to swim while Harry found every excuse to keep his hands on her. Sue him; he couldn’t help himself. The sight of her in that tiny bikini hugging her wet body had driven him completely insane. 

After a while, Y/N was ready for a break. Tired from swimming, she decided to stretch out on a lounge chair, soaking up the sun and getting a tan. She perched her sunglasses on her nose, reclining in the chair to let the warmth kiss her skin. While Harry stayed in the water, enjoying himself. 

As she settled in, she noticed a group of girls nearby. They kept glancing her way—or, more likely, Harry’s—and whispering amongst themselves. She tried not to let it get to her, shaking off the usual self-conscious thoughts about her body. Instead she sank herself deeper into the chair, enjoying the sun. 

 ༘ ˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚                                                           

“You know,” Harry murmured, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush her ear, “you look absolutely breathtaking right now.” 

Y/N shot him a skeptical look, though her cheeks warmed at his tone. “Harry, you’ve said that like ten times today.” 

“And I’ll say it ten more,” he replied, his hand sliding down from her arm to rest on her bare thigh. His touch was slow and deliberate. He gave her skin a gentle squeeze; she felt her breath hitch. 

“Harry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. 

“If we weren’t in public right now…” He mutters, his thumb tracing lazy circles over her skin. 

“You can’t just say things like that.” She shot him a look, half warning and half amused. She glanced around nervously, though no one seemed to be paying them much attention. 

“Oh, I can,” he replied, smirking as he leaned in closer, biting her ear. “And if we weren’t surrounded by all these people, I’d show you exactly how good you look in this. You have no idea what you’re doing to me, love.”

Y/N felt heat rush to her face, her cheeks burning under his words. She tried to maintain her composure, but at the rate her panties were getting damp, it was getting impossible. “You’re the worst,” she muttered, trying to bite back a smile. She sipped her piña colada, hoping the cool drink would help with the heat burning in her belly. 

“Am I?” He asked, his eyes glistening with mischief. “Guess you’ll just have to punish me later, yeah?” 

She shook her head at his words, laughing despite herself, and tried to swat his hand away. 

“Come on, let’s head back to the villa. I’ve had enough of sharing you with the rest of the world.” He said, standing and pulling her up with him. 

“Harry, we still have drinks—“ 

“They’ll be here tomorrow,” he interrupted. “Right now, I need you all to myself.” 

By the time they made it back to the villa, the tension was still thick between them. Harry wasted no time pulling her into his arms, his lips crashing against hers in a heated kiss. Both of them rushing to tear each other’s clothes. His hand slid across her back, untying her bikini while he trailed kisses down her throat. “Fucking insane, your body is fucking insane.” He murmured between the kisses; he dropped to his knees while tugging her panties down, and his palm massaged the plush, soft skin of her tummy. “This, this belongs to me, baby.” He looked in her eye while teasing her. “And this perfect pussy...” He whispered before licking a long strip of her slit. “All mine.” 

Harry groaned against her skin, his breath fanning over her inner thighs as he gripped her hips, pulling her closer to his mouth. “You think for a second I don’t love every inch of you? These curves, these thighs, these marks—every bit of it is mine to worship,” he growled, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her stretch-marked hips. 

Y/N’s breath hitched as she tried to twist away, her insecurities bubbling up, but he tightened his grip, “Don’t you dare, love,” he rasped, his eyes flicking up to hers. “You don’t hide from me. You’re so fucking beautiful I can’t breathe.” 

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, a mix of vulnerability and overwhelming affection. "Harry," she whispered, her voice trembling, "I just... I don't always feel like that. Not when I-"

He cut her off with a kiss pressed to the soft skin of her inner thigh, his lips lingering as if to silence her doubts.

"Then let me show you," he said firmly. "Let me prove it to you, baby. Every single day if I have to."

Her walls slowly crumbled, and she nodded, her fingers tangling in his curls as he returned his attention to her center. His tongue parted her folds, teasing her clit with slow, deliberate strokes. He kept licking her pussy while alternating pressing kisses along her inner thigh, sucking the soft skin, while taking her bud in his mouth, making her gasp loudly. “These thighs,” he murmured. Y/N could barely hear him as he was squished between her thighs, his voice muffled. “Drive me fucking wild, baby. I love feeling them around my head. Show me again, yeah?” 

She moaned as he dove back in, his tongue parting her folds, his own moans vibrating against her core. "Harry," she gasped, her voice breaking, "oh my God, that feels so good. Don't stop."

"Not planning to, baby," he murmured, between licking and sucking. His hands kneading the soft flesh of her hips as he pulled her ever closer. "You taste so fucking good. So perfect."

Her hand found his curls as she tugged on them when the pressure in her belly increased. Her legs shook as he worked her closer to the edge. “That’s it, baby,” he said, pulling back just enough to bite softly in her inner thigh, “Let me hear you; let me see how much you love this.” 

When she finally shattered, crying out his name, Harry stood, his lips slick and wet from her arousal. He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed and laying her down gently, knowing she was still coming down from her orgasm. Hovering over her, his lips met hers again, slow and deep, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

"You don't get to doubt yourself," he whispered, his hands skimming down her body, mapping every dip, every curve. "Not when I'm here to remind you exactly how fucking stunning you are." His mouth moved lower, taking his time, worshiping every inch of her, his voice a steady stream of praises against her skin. "This body is mine to worship. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you."

His lips wrapped around her nipple, his hand caressing her hip as he aligned himself with her, whispering against her chest, "Gonna show you how much I love every inch of you, baby. Over and over again."

[97linelover]

Ex on the Beach - Kim Mingyu

summary: Breaking up with Mingyu broke you, but what if you get asked if you want to join a Reality-show called "Ex on the Beach?"

content: no Idol Mingyu x non Idol reader, fight,angst, happy end,fluff,smut, drama

wc: 4.4 k

a/n: In Germany we have exactly this show, so I came up with this Idea.

1 - 2 - 3 Action.

You walked along the LED-lit path towards the beach, wearing your new Skims bikini and a pair of heels.

You had spent a lot of time practicing walking in those heels on sand to make it look decent now.

In front of you, you spotted three lounge chairs with three men on them.

The first thing you noticed was the black mop of hair belonging to your ex.

You couldn't smile when you saw him; the heartbreak was still too fresh.

"Hi, my name is Y/N, and I'm 26 years old. I was born and raised in Berlin, and seven years ago, I moved to Frankfurt, where I met Mingyu. We started dating when I was 19, and we broke up nearly a year ago," you said with a smile that wasn't entirely genuine.

The robotic voice then asked for the reason the two of you broke up.

"It just became too much. He always chose her. We were celebrating our anniversary, and she called? He left me sitting there. We would be in the middle of sex, and he answered the call and left," you laughed at that.

"I was okay with it at the beginning because she was his best friend, but when I organized a birthday party for him, and she completely monopolized him, I lost it. I took her aside and told her that Mingyu was my boyfriend, and she just laughed and said he would always choose her," you said, nibbling on your lip as the memories came flooding back.

"And when he started having movie nights with her and brought her along to meet-ups with his friends, I distanced myself. Until one night, I packed all my things and told Mingyu that I was moving out."

"Did Mingyu care about that?" the voice asked once again.

"I don't know. At first, he was completely flabbergasted, but then he just let it be and never texted me again," you said, blinking away tears. "So now I'm here to teach him a lesson."

"That's Y/N," Mingyu's voice was barely a whisper, and the other boys gasped. "Did you two break up on good terms?" he chuckled at that. "No, she just left, and I found out she had an affair." The boys looked at you.

"This girl? Crazy, dude."

As you walked towards them, you felt a weird sensation bubbling up, and Mingyu got up and walked towards you. "Hi," he said softly, his brown eyes watching you. "Hey, Mingyu," you said, walking past him and hugging the other boys.

"So you're not even going to greet me properly?" Mingyu scoffed, and you looked at him. "I said hey. What do you want? Should I jump on you?" your voice was laced with venom, and he sighed.

"Listen, we need to spend a lot of time together here, so please get a grip," he said with a smug grin. "Fuck you, Mingyu," you spat and walked behind the other two boys.

Mingyu could only roll his eyes at your outburst.

You walked into the villa with Mingyu close behind you, and the others looked at you, waving. You smiled and introduced yourself to all of them. They were all pretty nice and made sure to welcome you warmly. Without hesitation, Seungcheol guided you around.

He showed you all the places around the house. "And here's your sleeping place. Tonight, you have to choose your sleeping partner," he said, chuckling. "It's either me or Mingyu, I'm afraid." You groaned at that. "Well, let's see how the night ends."

The entire show basically consists of alcohol, making out, and sex.

You had a Mojito in your hand while talking to Angela, Jonas's ex-girlfriend. "And when I walked into his apartment, he was hovering over her, kissing along her neck. I let out a scream and stormed out the door," you gasped. "No way, that's messed up." You hugged her as she began to sob.

You reassured her that Men sometimes are just Idiots, that cruel things can happen.

That she is worth so much more.

"I loved him so much," she cried, and you tried to calm her down.

"Y/N, wanna go down to the pool?" Cheol walked towards you, and you looked at Angela. "It's alright, darling," she said, wiping the tears away.

You got up following him towards the Pool area.

The two of you sat down on the lounge chairs. "Mingyu is looking at me like he wants to kill me," Seungcheol chuckled, and you shrugged. "He has no right anymore. I can talk to whoever I want," you said, taking a sip of your drink.

"So, are you open to something new?" he asked with raised eyebrows, and you gulped. "You know, I thought I was, but seeing him here gives me these weird feelings. I'm still in love with him, but it's over," you tried to smile.

"I actually talked a lot with him the past few days, and he is still pretty much in love with you. He also told me that there's so much he wants to ask you..." Seungcheol noticed your tears and hugged you. "I don't feel ready," you whispered, and he nodded. "This show is a lot to handle, I agree, but maybe it will all work out in the end."

He kissed your head softly, and suddenly, you heard the slam of a door. When you looked up, Mingyu was nowhere to be found.

"I should look for him," you said apologetically, and Seungcheol nodded. You rushed towards the bedroom. "Mingyu?" you called, looking inside the room to find him sitting on the bed.

His shoulders were slumped, and his head hung low.

"Go away, Y/N," he said, his voice dull, and you gulped. "Mingyu, you knew what this show was about. Why are you acting like this?" He got up, looking at you. "Because after all those years, you just left, and now you're here acting like we never happened."

"So now I'm the villain? Are you kidding me? I left because I felt so wrong in this relationship, and you didn't even try to reach out. So why should I still care?" your voice was weak.

"I didn't call you because you fucking went out and acted like a slut, fucking different men," he spat, and you gasped, the liquid from your cocktail landing on his face.

You suddenly felt numb, so embarrassed.

"Never talk to me again," your voice cracked, and you rushed out.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you rushed past the others. "Y/N?" Angela's voice followed you as you sat down on one of the lounge chairs. "He called me a slut, Angi, how could he?" you sobbed.

"Why would he do that?" Angela took your hand for support. "I don't know. I never did anything. I loved him so much, I would've done anything for him." She hugged you tight and stroked your back.

"The two of you definitely need to talk. There's something wrong with everything," she whispered, and you agreed.

Mingyu calling you slut made you feel so bad, you could not stop shaking.

As the signal came that it was bedtime, everyone got ready for bed.

You only had two options: Mingyu or Seungcheol.

Just hearing his name made you crazy right now. There was no way you could lay down next to him.

So you climbed into the bed shared with Seungcheol and avoided Mingyu's gaze completely.

The next morning, you quickly got ready with a dip in the pool, and as you lay on the lounge chair, you felt someone next to you. "Y/N, we should talk," Mingyu's deep voice said, and you looked at him.

"I was clear yesterday, right? You called me a slut, Mingyu. This is a TV show; everyone can see this," you said, clearly frustrated and hurt.

"I know, and I'm sorry, but seeing you so close with Cheol brought back memories," he whispered, and you got up. "What memories are you even talking about, Mingyu? I don't get it."

The two of you walked to a quieter area. "After you left, I was fucking furious. I felt like someone had ripped my world apart. I wanted to run after you, but then I got some messages and pictures of you with another man," his voice got weaker. "You were fucking this guy, and there was a date. It was while we were dating," you let out a choked gasp. "No way!"

He looked down. "I felt like it was my fault, that I pushed you towards someone better," he took your hand. "I hope you realize that this is bullshit. Mingyu, I never had sex with someone else, not even in the year we split," you pleaded.

"I would never cheat on you, Mingyu. I was so fucking loyal to you, and I left because you were too blinded by Somi!" you raised your voice, and he gulped. "Every day, you went to her place and ditched me. She took every chance she could get, and I couldn’t watch you anymore."

Mingyu sighed, frustrated. "So our breakup was over Somi?"

"Yes! You're obsessed with her. It's crazy, Mingyu. I thought the two of you would have an affair."

"Somi never had a chance, Y/N. I love you. It's only you," he said, taking your hand and pulling you closer. "This year made me realize how much I love you," he stroked your cheek.

"You give me a kind of happiness no one else can," he said with tears in his eyes. "And I should've fought for you. I should've asked you if it was true, but it all made sense in my head."

He looked so sad that you pulled him in.

You melted into the kiss, your hands gripping his shoulders as he held you close. For a moment, everything else faded away—the cameras, the villa, the other contestants. It was just you and Mingyu, the connection between you rekindling with every passing second.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless. Mingyu rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

“I never stopped loving you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I was an idiot, and I let my insecurities and Somi get in the way. But I want to make things right. I want us to start over.”

You blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill over. The pain from the past year, the heartbreak, the anger—it was all still there. But so was the love you had for him. You had never stopped loving him either.

“I don’t know if it’s that simple, Gyu,” you admitted, your voice wavering. “So much has happened, and there’s a lot we need to work through. But I want to try, if you’re willing to put in the effort.”

He nodded earnestly, his hands squeezing yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes, Y/N. I’ll prove to you that I’m worth another chance.”

The two of you stood there for a while longer, just holding each other, as the sun began to dip below the horizon. The tension between you seemed to have eased, and for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful about your future with Mingyu.

Later that evening, as the group gathered for dinner, the atmosphere was noticeably lighter. Mingyu stayed close to you, his hand often finding yours under the table, offering silent reassurance.

Seungcheol gave you a knowing smile from across the table, and you returned it with a nod of gratitude. You could see that he genuinely wanted what was best for you, even if it meant stepping aside.

Angela, too, was supportive. She squeezed your hand when she had the chance and whispered, “I’m glad you two are talking things out. You deserve to be happy.”

As the night went on, the tension between you and Mingyu continued to thaw. You found yourself laughing at his jokes, and he was more attentive than ever, making sure you were comfortable and cared for.

Eventually, the group dispersed, heading to their respective rooms. When it was time for bed, you found yourself hesitating. The choice between Seungcheol and Mingyu was still there, but this time, it felt different.

Mingyu watched you, his expression open and hopeful. “I know we’re not back together yet, but… would you like to share a bed tonight? Just to talk, I mean.”

You considered his offer for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, but just to talk.”

He smiled, clearly relieved. “Just to talk.”

The two of you headed to the room, and as you settled into bed, you felt a strange sense of peace. There was still a long road ahead, and you weren’t sure where it would lead, but you were willing to walk it together, one step at a time.

Mingyu wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with warmth.

“Goodnight, Gyu,” you replied, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to drift off, feeling safe and hopeful in his embrace.

The next two days were uneventful. You played games, danced, and slept. During this time, you and Mingyu grew even closer, often spending time together in the pool and frequently ending up making out.

For the party tonight, you wore a leather lingerie set paired with heels, while Mingyu sported tight shorts and a collar—a sight you never knew you needed. Mingyu was standing with some of the guys, talking about football, while you danced around with Angela and Larissa

“So, Y/N, will you and Mingyu date again, or is this just a fling?” Angela asked, taking a sip from her cup.

“I think we’re on the right path to start over,” you replied dreamily. “I loved Mingyu—I still do. We’re just a good match. I couldn’t let any other man get close to me, and I’ve always craved him.”

“Do you think another ex will show up?” Larissa asked.

“Hopefully not,” you replied with a slight blush. “As far as I know, I was his first and only girlfriend.”

“You two are so cute. I’m rooting for you,” Angela said, grinning widely.

Suddenly, you felt two arms wrap around you and soft kisses on your shoulder. “You two are disgustingly cute,” Angela joked, pretending to gag. You giggled, and Larissa muttered, “I need to get some dick right now,” before rushing off towards Josh.

You turned around to face Mingyu. “You look so good in this,” he whispered, kissing you.

“Mhm, you too,” you giggled, gently tugging on his collar.

“If we keep making out, I’m going to die of blue balls, baby,” he whispered in your ear, making you blush. You took his hand. “Let’s fix that.”

You both walked into the private suite and locked the door behind you. The hunger for each other was undeniable. Hovering over him, you kissed along his abs. “You’ve been working out a lot,” you murmured, pulling down his tight pants, revealing his hardened dick.

“Needed something to clear my head,” he groaned as you kissed his tip. “You drive me crazy,” he said, his hands tangling in your hair.

You quickened your pace, and deep moans escaped his lips as you worked your magic.

When Mingyu began pounding into you from behind, the sounds of your mixed moans filled the room. “God, I missed your pussy,” he groaned, and you let out breathless whimpers.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he praised, knowing it was your weakness. He pulled your hair, bending over you, slowly choking you from behind as you reached your high. You lost control completely, your entire body shaking. Shortly after, you felt Mingyu spurting his cum onto your back, both of you breathing heavily.

Mingyu cleaned you up and lay down next to you, whispering loving words until you both fell asleep.

“Y/N, please come to the news box, and Mingyu, you’ll need to go to the beach,” the robotic voice instructed. You looked at him, concerned. “Why the beach? Isn’t that just for ex-girlfriends?” Suddenly, Mingyu looked guilty, and you realized something. “Were you in a relationship after me?” He tried to explain, but he had to go to the beach, leaving you bitter as you walked into the interview room.

Inside, there was a small envelope.

’Y/N, It seems your Mingyu wasn’t entirely honest with you. She never stood a chance?’

You read the lines and gasped. What was that supposed to mean?

“Y/N!!” Angela screamed as you exited the room. You looked towards the stairs leading to the beach, and all the color drained from your face. “No, no, NO!” you said in desperation and panic.

Mingyu walked up the stairs with Somi by his side. They were talking, and Mingyu appeared angry, but you couldn’t register anything. Your ears were ringing like crazy.

“Y/N, breathe, okay?” Seungcheol rushed to your side, and you leaned against him. “He told me she never stood a chance,” you whispered. When Mingyu saw you, he rushed over.

But he did not get the chance to get closer.

“Mingyu, please introduce the new guest,” the robotic voice prompted. Mingyu sighed.

“Guys, this is Somi. We’ve been friends since I was thirteen, and we dated for two months,” he said, sounding ashamed.

“When?” was all you could ask.

“Baby,” he whispered.

“WHEN?” you screamed, and everyone gasped.

“One month after our breakup,” he admitted quietly. Tears stung your eyes. “Wow, you replaced me quicker than I thought” you let out a bitter laugh.

“Please, let me explain,” he pleaded, but you shook your head. “No, I don’t want to hear it,” you said, rushing into the room. You locked the door, trying to forget the pain.

Mingyu knew he had messed up. He hadn’t considered the possibility of Somi showing up. “Should we get a drink?” Somi asked, batting her eyelashes.

“Not in the mood right now,” he muttered, walking away.

As you stood in the bathroom applying skincare, Somi walked in. “Hi, Y/N, long time no see. How are you?” she asked with a fake smile. You rolled your eyes.

“Save your fake kindness, Somi,” you spat, and she laughed.

“Oh, poor pathetic Y/N. I always told you he wanted me. He chose me after the breakup. He believed me. All those nights he thought you cheated, but it was just a really good edit,” she said, flicking her hair.

“Mingyu is mine, Y/N, and everything shows it. In those two months, he fucked me so good. He even told me I’m the best he ever had,” she taunted. You stared at her, speechless. “And you know what? A week before this show, we hooked up in your old bed,” she smirked.

You pushed past her. “Aren’t you ashamed? This show will be seen by everyone, and you say such things? It’s disgusting and cheap. If he wants yo, fine. At least I’m not a manipulative hoe.”

You slammed the door shut and started packing your suitcase. You changed into biker shorts and a large shirt, grabbed your things, and rushed downstairs where the others were gathered. Mingyu was sitting by the water.

His Shoulders slumped and his head hanging low, like he was ashamed of all this.

“Y/N, what are you doing with your suitcase?” Seungcheol asked, and Mingyu quickly came over. “What’s going on?” he asked, panicking.

“I’m leaving. I thought I could handle this, but it’s not my world. I’m grateful for this experience, especially for you, Cheol, and you, Angi,” you said with tears in your eyes. “But it just hurts too much to find out the person you loved for seven years replaced you with someone he told you not to worry about.” You looked at Mingyu. “This was the final straw.”

Angi let out a sob and you hugged her softly.

“Let me take this,” Cheol said, taking the suitcase and your bag.

“It’s better this way. You don’t deserve this,” Angi said, hugging you tightly. Mingyu could only hold your hand. “Please, let’s talk. I should have told you,” he sobbed.

“Let go,” you whispered.

“I love you, Y/N,” he pleaded.

You shrugged. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have dated her—the woman who never stood a chance,” you said bitterly. “Goodbye, Mingyu.”

And with that, your journey on “Ex on the Beach” was over.

Two days later, you were back at your father’s small restaurant, helping out on a busy night. Two waitresses had called in sick, so you came directly from the airport to assist, jet lag and all.

You felt tired and your limbs were hurting.

“Two Caesar salads for table two,” you called out before going to greet the next customer. As you looked into familiar brown eyes, you felt like screaming. “Mingyu? How? What about the show?” you stammered.

“I left after you did. I really meant it when I said I love you. Yes, I dated Somi, but there was barely even a kiss. I couldn’t. I never touched her because I only wanted you. I ended it with her because I couldn’t give her what she wanted,” he rambled, catching you completely off guard.

“But she told me you two had sex and that you wanted her,” you said, confused.

“No, I couldn’t. You’re the one I want,” he said sincerely, and you smiled slightly.

“I’d really like to kiss you, but you know what?” you giggled. “Get an apron from the back and help me out here.”

“Of course,” Mingyu rushed to the back, where you could see your dad hugging him tightly. They had always been close—Mingyu was like part of your family. When the two of you broke up, your family couldn’t believe it.

The two of you used to help your dad out a lot back in your school days.

After the shift ended, you were happy to grab your things. “Can I drive you home?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded. “I think we should talk,” you said, saying goodbye to your dad and following Mingyu.

The ride home wasn’t awkward at all. Both of you were just happy to have some peace at the moment. You unlocked the door, and Mingyu followed you inside. “Your apartment is really pretty. It feels so homey,” he said, looking around.

"I really tried to make it feel like home. I loved our old apartment so much that finding a new one was incredibly difficult,” you confessed, your voice tinged with the emotions you had been holding back for so long. Your eyes fell to the floor, unable to meet his gaze as the memories of what you had lost resurfaced.

Mingyu leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he listened intently. “I never moved out,” he admitted softly, his voice filled with the weight of his own regrets. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Every day, I hoped that one day you’d come back, and we could try again.” He looked up at you, his eyes reflecting a deep vulnerability that you hadn’t seen in years.

“Did you date Somi because of me?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, your need for understanding outweighing your fear of the answer. The thought of him with someone else had gnawed at you ever since she showed up.

Mingyu sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It wasn’t because of you, Y/N,” he began, his voice steady but laced with guilt. “After you left, I was lost. When Somi came around, I thought I could move on, that maybe it was time to let go. But I couldn’t. After everything she said on the show, I felt sick to my stomach. She played me—none of it was true. Like I said, we never had sex. I never even wanted to. Every time I was with her, all I could think about was you.”

His words hung in the air, a mixture of pain and sincerity that made your heart ache. You could see how much he regretted his actions, how much he wished he could take it all back. But the hurt was still fresh, the wound still raw.

“I don’t know if I can just forget everything,” you said quietly, your voice trembling as you tried to keep your emotions in check. “We’ve just found each other again, and then this happened. It’s like… I’m afraid to trust you.”

Mingyu reached out and gently took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing motion. “I understand, Y/N. I know I messed up, and I’m so sorry. But I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right, to rebuild the trust we lost. Just… please, don’t give up on us.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of deceit but finding only genuine remorse and the deep love you knew he still held for you. Despite the hurt, despite the betrayal, you couldn’t deny that a part of you still loved him too—loved him enough to want to try again.

“Let’s talk,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart heavy with the weight of your decision. “But first… let’s have that kiss.”

Mingyu’s eyes softened, relief flooding through him as he leaned in slowly, as if afraid you might change your mind. But you didn’t. You met him halfway, your lips finding his in a tender kiss that spoke of all the unspoken words between you—words of regret, forgiveness, and the hope for a second chance.

The kiss was everything you had missed and more. It was familiar yet new, filled with the promise of a fresh start. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other as you savored the moment.

“I’m not letting you go again,” Mingyu whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks.

You smiled softly, feeling a warmth spread through you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. “Me neither,” you whispered back, your heart finally beginning to heal.

The two of you sat there for a moment longer, just holding each other, letting the silence speak for you. It wasn’t going to be easy; you both knew that. But for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful. You were ready to face whatever challenges life would bring, together.

„The production team just let you go?“ you asked while taking a bite off your toasted waffle.

„They agreed that you actually were my perfect match and they said this gave the show some drama“ he chuckled.

„Well I can happily let the drama go, I don’t need it“ you admitted laughing.

„No more drama, no more ex on the beach“

And so, their journey on “Ex on the Beach” came full circle, leading them back to where they truly belonged—wrapped in each other’s arms, ready to rebuild the love they had once lost and face the future with newfound strength.

[mitsiepitsie]

Awaiting

Ahhhh, the secret times audio for this card painted such a vivid scene in my mind, that I had to write out the rest of it. Sylus's lines are taken verbatim from the card, the rest is my interpretation. Unproofed as always, here's 1500 words and a bit for your reading pleasure. TW gunshot wound, gunfight.

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

The darkness around you is oppressive as you glance around, briefly spotting the tiny red lights on the visors of the men surrounding you in the bushes. Five, six, no, more, a dozen strong, at least. You don’t know what faction or organization they’re with and why they’re after you, but you know you need to get out of here, now. 

A quick look at your watch tells you one of his safe houses should be nearby, the abandoned villa where he rescued that kitten that day. A bullet whizzing past your head snaps you to attention, and then you’re running, making a mad dash for the relative safety of the abandoned villa, trying to lose the people following you by darting left and right randomly.

You burst onto a small clearing, cursing as a masked man, completely in black intercepts you with a shit eating grin on his face. You aim your gun at him, but he was waiting for that, and suddenly, pain blooms blindingly in your left shoulder. You recoil from the impact, reeling in pain, and then, he’s standing above you, aiming again. Without thinking, you fling out your right arm and blindly shoot in his general direction, his howl of pain somehow satisfying to your ears as he crumples to the ground in front of you. 

You grit your teeth and force yourself to your feet again, groaning at the lurch in your stomach as you do, but then you’re running again, gaining momentum with each step, though you no longer have it in you to zig a lot of zags. And then, the villa comes into view, and you’re through the gates and crashing into the door, the old lock no match for the impact. 

Still having the sense to close the door behind you, you lean against it and try to calm your erratic breaths. You can hear some shouting in the distance, the voices barely audible over the sound of your heart beating out of your chest. You drag yourself to the end of the hall, facing the door as you sink down onto the floor, trying to inspect your wound and think of a course of action. 

Just as you discover the bullet went straight through, the door flies open, your arm flying up in instinct as you aim for the intruder. 

“You welcome this house’s owner by pointing a gun at his head?” Sylus intones, shaking his silvery head at you incredulously, “Ok then..”

Before you manage to retort, he brings a finger to his lips and quietly shuts the door again and stalks over to where you are sitting on the floor. “Shh, they might still be listening in. Keep it down.” 

You lower your gun and resume your inspection of the wound on your shoulder, muttering wryly that you could’ve used his presence a few minutes earlier. 

“How was I supposed to know you were here?” he mutters as he crouches down beside you, his eyes fixed on the bloody stain on your uniform. 

You let out a mirthless snicker. “It sure didn’t take you long to find me.”

His voice is suddenly in your ear as he closes in on you. “Look up,” he says, gaze not leaving the bullet wound, “To your right. See that black spot? It's a surveillance camera.”

A colorful swear is on your lips as Sylus simply continues. “The system notified me as soon as the door lock was broken.”

He shifts, carefully peeling back the lapel of your jacket. “Does it hurt?” he asks, voice laced with concern.

You try to shrug, forced to wince as you do. “I’m sure you’ve had worse,” you grunt at him as you stand up, trying your damnedest to ignore your wobbly legs as you slide your gun into it’s holster on your leg. 

He grins wryly. “You’re still acting tough, huh?” You try not to be affected by the disapproval underlying his words. 

Sylus grabs your waist, gently supporting you as he guides you into one of the adjoining rooms. “Sit, on the bed,” he directs you. 

It’s all you can do to blow a raspberry in his direction as you sink down on the mattress. You watch as he pulls open a nearby dresser and starts fishing out packets of bandages and other first aid supplies. He walks back over to you, a single eyebrow raised at your antics. 

“Now is not the time for you to be a big girl,” he says sarcastically, lightly sitting down on the bed beside you, “Well…unless you have arms on your back to treat your injury.”

You’re tempted to blow another raspberry right into his smug face, but decide to settle for a roll of your eyes instead. “I’d rather grow a pair of wings, instead,” you say, trying to best his stupid little joke. 

You think you see a flash of surprise flit across his eyes, but it must’ve been a trick of the light, as the next second, he’s right back to commanding you in a tone that brooks no discussion. “Turn around, take off your jacket.”

Begrudgingly, you comply, carefully shrugging off the company issued jacket and turning your back to him. There’s some rustling behind you, and suddenly, a cold substance is spread onto your broken skin. You suck in a breath through your teeth. “What the fuck is that?” you hiss at him, the stinging bringing tears to your eyes. 

“It’s medicine,” he simply answers, “hold on.”

His hand returns, spreading more of the salve onto your shoulder. You suck in another breath, groaning at the intense burning spreading from the wound. 

“Quiet,” he mutters into your right ear as his other hand clamps over your mouth, “I know it hurts, but if I have to keep my hand over your mouth, I won’t be able to treat your wound.”

He releases you again, and you mutter under your breath about not being certain you want this kind of treatment. 

“If you really can bear it, I have some canned meat,” Sylus says, a playful lilt in his tone now, “The slices should be thick enough for you to sink your teeth into.”

You glance back over your right shoulder, frowning at him in blatant disgust. 

He catches your eye, grinning. “It was just a suggestion, you don't need to look at me like that,” he chuckles, “Isn't it better than being spotted because you're too loud?”

He takes a second to look around the both of you, searching for another option. “Do you want to bite down on the gauze pad?” he asks, waving an unopened packet in front of you, “that works too.”

You shake your head, gritting out the retort that you would rather bite on his hand, if anything.  

“Bear with me a moment,” he says, and he leans back as if he needs to collect himself, “Ok. Let’s continue.”

His breath is right in your ear as you feel a dull pricking sensation, and you realise the medicine earlier was some kind of numbing agent, and now he is suturing the bullet hole in your shoulder. Another breath, another prick and pull at your skin. 

“I’m almost done,” Sylus mutters gently, “One last-” He trails off, sitting up straighter on the bed. Footsteps resound on the pavement outside, or, at least you hope they’re still outside. You hear him breathing heavily for a moment as he weighs your options. 

“Where’s your weapon?” he whispers, lips almost touching your ear this time.  

You twitch your right leg in answer. “ It’s on your right leg?”

Before you can bend over to grab it, he halts you by grabbing your wrist. “Don’t move,” he says, “Your wound will open up. I'll get it.”

Sylus releases your wrist and you watch, almost in a trance as his large hand ghosts around you from his position at your back to move over your thigh. Despite the situation, despite yourself, you shiver at his questing fingers, almost disappointed as they make contact with the cold metal strapped to your leg. 

“Load the gun for me,” he breathes, holding the gun up to your face.  

Deftly, you blindly snap the magazine in place. He snickers into your ear, and you shiver again as he quietly stands up from the bed to stand before you.

“We make a good team,” he comments, holding out his hand to you, “Give me your hand.” 

You shake your head, holding out your own hand for him to place the gun back into. He raises an eyebrow at you, staring down his nose at you. 

“Do you want to do it yourself?” he whispers, a pointed look at your wounded shoulder as he weighs your weapon in his hand, “But I have your gun. There’s also no place for you to take cover. Just don't let go, if you want to stay out of the crossfire.” 

He grabs your hand and pulls you to your feet before leading you towards the hallway again, careful to keep you covered behind him. “I’d rather not bandage more wounds in the next few minutes,” Sylus offers over his shoulder with a winning smile, before raining down hell and damnation at the people who dared wound his beloved. 

[burningembers91]

The Secretary - Park Min-Su x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Park Min-Su is the heir to a company he doesn't want. He's not made for the cutthroat world of business. His father hires you to be his secretary, nothing more than a bit of eye candy for the son he can't figure out. But you're so much more than that. And you know Min-Su is worth more than he thinks. If only you can teach him to be as confident as you are.

A/N - Picture the scene: a high stakes investment company, a heir who is terrified of his own shadow, and a sexy secretary with the patience of a Saint who'll teach Min-Su about business, power and sex. I am so excited for this storyline because I love a dominant female lead!

Park Min-Su’s life had been planned out for him before he’d even been born. His grandfather had set up an investment company in the 1970’s, one that had grown to almost dizzying heights of success. The company had then been passed to Min-Su’s father in the 1990’s, with the view to make everything his one day. But Min-Su didn’t want the company, he hated the pressure that came with being a CEO, detested the cutthroat manner his father and grandfather possessed. He didn’t have a keen eye for business, he couldn’t command a room full a people like his father could.

Min-Su was timid, and quiet, and preferred to fade quietly into the background where no one would notice him. He hated having to wear a suit every day, forced to sit in meetings about things that he didn’t fully understand. All the conversations about investments and portfolios went right over his head; he wasn’t the keen businessman his family wanted him to be. He’d thought about telling his father that he didn’t want the company, that perhaps it could be passed off to someone more deserving. But his father wasn’t in the habit of listening to Min-Su; he thought he knew best, and that his son needed to be guided by him in order to succeed.

He dreaded coming into the office, hated walking through the expansive marble hallways as people bowed to him, sucked up to him and pretended to like him. No one in that company liked Min-Su; they liked his father, and his father’s money. He’d often hide in the bathrooms at lunch, praying that no one would notice his absence. At 28 years old, he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life, but he knew he didn’t want to be a CEO.

His father could see Min-Su was struggling, but failure was not an option when it came to the business. He just needed a push, an incentive to get him to see that the path laid out for him was the right one. He knew nothing about his son and never had the inclination to attempt to bond with him. He’d given Min-Su luxury cars, villas in several countries and access to an unlimited amount of cash but couldn’t understand why his son still wasn’t happy. So, he hired you, a secretary who was easy on the eyes, someone to give Min-Su something to look at while he worked. You had a stellar CV, and excellent work ethic and his father hoped you’d bring his son out of his shell.

Min-Su had never been good with women, had never even so much as kissed a girl. He was constantly rendered speechless around you, his mouth agape whenever you walked into the room. you commanded attention in your heels and silk shirt, the lace of your bra visible through the thin fabric. He couldn’t even say his own name around you, let alone have a conversation with you, but you were so patient. You helped him get to grips with his diary, taking mundane admin tasks off his hands. You accompanied him to meetings, taking notes and then typing them up, making sure everything was in a language that Min-Su could understand. You knew he struggled with the fast-paced environment in the meetings, not entirely understanding the technical words used by the partners. You made sure his notes were clear, concise and simple, giving him the ability to get to grips with his role. You fetched his lunch, his dry cleaning, and his coffee. He never once asked you to do any of these things for him, but nothing was too much trouble for you.

His father had hired you to keep his son entertained, but Min-Su was so soft and gentle, far too kind for the cutthroat world of investments. You did your best to shield him, pretending you didn’t hear the things employees whispered about him behind his back. You did your best to encourage him to come out of his shell, telling him everything about yourself in the hopes he’d open up. But he wore the permanent look of a rabbit caught in the headlights, terrified of his own shadow. You noticed the way he stared at you; the way he stammered his words whenever he spoke to you. You so badly wanted to bolster his confidence, to show him he knew more than he thought.

You bided your time, chipping away at his terrified exterior little by little. You worked long into the night, never once giving up no matter how little he gave you. You knew there was a fire deep within Min-Su. He just needed a confident woman to help bring it out.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Airport Security

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here !!

authors note - this video gave me a few ideas to write with but this is the one i decided to write so i hope that you all enjoy. 💗

word count - 1.2k

in which, harry and his daughter madison have a tradition of going on a little father-daughter holiday, they first did it when she was six months old, just before her first birthday and now there doing it just before her second birthday, but today, let’s just say little miss is in a very cranky mood.

As Harry's Range Rover glided along the quiet road towards the airport, he stole a glance at his sleeping daughter, Madison, nestled cosily in her car seat.

Her hair, tied up in two adorable ponytails by his wife just before they left the house at the crack of dawn, bobbed gently with the rhythm of the car. Madison's dummy was nestled in her mouth, her little hand clutching her favourite stuffed bunny.

Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight of his precious daughter, her peaceful slumber filling him with warmth and tenderness. The early morning light cast a soft glow over her delicate features, illuminating the innocence that radiated from her angelic face.

When Madison was six months old, harry took her on a little overnight trip so that the wife could have a bit of a break and then he took her to the Lake District just before her first birthday and now, with her second birthday vastly approaching, he had decided that they were going to spend the weekend in his Italian villa.

Father-Daughter holidays had quickly become a tradition in the Styles household.

As they neared the airport, Harry drove with extra care, mindful not to disturb Madison's rest. He reached back occasionally to tuck the blanket more snugly around her, ensuring she remained comfortable throughout the journey.

As the Range Rover rolled to a stop at the airport, Harry turned off the engine and stepped out of the car, his heart brimming with anticipation for their adventure ahead. With gentle steps, he made his way to the boot of the car, where Madison's stroller awaited.

Carefully lifting the stroller from the trunk, Harry marveled at how quickly Madison had grown, from a tiny infant to a lively toddler. He couldn't wait to explore Italy with her by his side, every moment an opportunity to create cherished memories together.

As Harry opened Madison's car door, he leaned in gently to lift her from the car seat, expecting her to wake up with a sleepy yawn. However, as he cradled her in his arms, he was met with a different response than he anticipated.

Madison grumbled sleepily, "Daddy, noooo... tired."

Harry chuckled softly, "I know, m’pickle, but we're here. S’a quick stop at the airport, then we'll be on our way."

But Madison wasn't having it. Her tiny fists balled up, and she kicked her legs in protest, "No, no, no! Sleepy!"

As Harry tried to settle Madison into the stroller, she resisted fiercely, her tiredness manifesting in stubborn kicks and squirms. Despite his gentle efforts, she continued to protest, her tiny form wriggling in his grasp.

"Come on, Maddy-moo, just a moment longer," Harry urged softly, his voice laced with patience and understanding.

But Madison was having none of it. Tears welled up in her eyes as she cried out, "No! Want Daddy!"

With a determined but gentle touch, Harry managed to secure Madison into the stroller, though her protests continued. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked up at him with pleading eyes, her bottom lip quivering with emotion.

"I know, pickle," Harry murmured, his heart aching at her distress. "M’right here with you.”

As Harry secured Madison in the stroller, her tired cries still echoing in the early morning air, he quickly retrieved the baby bag from the trunk of the car. With practiced efficiency, he slung it over his shoulder, ensuring he had everything they needed for their journey ahead.

Next, he grabbed the bags filled with their clothes, one for himself and one for Madison. Despite her tears and protests, Harry remained steadfast, determined to make their trip as smooth as possible.

As he locked up the car and began pushing the stroller towards the airport entrance, Madison's cries persisted, tugging at Harry's heartstrings with each step. He longed to soothe her, to ease her discomfort and frustration, but he knew that sometimes, all he could do was be there for her, offering comfort and reassurance.

As they approached the check-in counter, Harry heaved a sigh of relief as the process went smoothly, the airport staff efficiently tagging and loading their bags onto the conveyor belt.

Madison's cries had subsided slightly, replaced by quiet sniffles as she clung to her stuffed bunny for comfort.

With their bags checked in, Harry took Madison's hand and guided her towards the security checkpoint, a sense of apprehension gnawing at his stomach. Airport security was always a daunting prospect, especially with a tired and cranky toddler in tow.

As they joined the queue, Harry mentally prepared himself for the inevitable challenges ahead. He knew that keeping Madison calm and cooperative would be no easy feat, especially with the long lines and strict security measures.

As they reached the front of the security line, the security officer motioned for Harry to take Madison out of the stroller. Harry's shoulders slumped slightly as he anticipated Madison's reaction. He nodded in acknowledgment to the officer, trying to hide his apprehension.

"Sir, I'll need you to remove your daughter from the stroller for a moment," the security officer said kindly, gesturing towards Madison.

Harry forced a smile, his heart racing with anxiety. "Of course, no problem."

"Hey, Maddy-moo," Harry cooed, crouching down to unclasp the straps holding her in the stroller. "We just need to go through security real quick, then we can get moving again."

But Madison wasn't having it. As soon as Harry began to lift her out, she protested loudly, pushing his hands away and crying out in frustration.

"Hey, s’okay, pickle," Harry reassured her, trying to remain calm despite the rising tension. "We just need to do this real quick, then we'll be on our way."

But Madison's cries only grew louder, her tiny fists clenched as she threw her head back in distress. Harry could feel the weight of people's stares, their curious glances making him feel even more uncomfortable and self-conscious.

"Everything alright over here?" another security officer asked, approaching them with concern.

Harry nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. "Yeah, she's just a bit tired, that's all. sorry.”

As Harry placed Madison on the ground for a moment to fold down the stroller, he felt a knot of unease tighten in his stomach. He knew Madison was tired, but her behavior seemed beyond mere exhaustion.

As he straightened up, he noticed with a sinking heart that she had darted back through the security lines, her tiny figure disappearing into the crowd.

"Madison! No, sweetheart, come back!" Harry called out desperately, his voice tinged with panic. He quickly folded the stroller and abandoned it, pushing past startled travelers as he raced after his daughter.

"Sorry, sorry," Harry muttered apologetically as he pushed his way through the crowded terminal, his heart pounding in his chest. He finally caught sight of Madison, several yards ahead, running as fast as her little legs could carry her.

"Madison, stop!" Harry commanded sternly, his voice tinged with frustration as he closed the distance between them. "Y’shouldn't have run off like that. S’not safe!"

But Madison paid no heed to his words. She kicked and squirmed in his arms, her cries piercing the air as she pushed at his face in defiance.

"Madison, enough!" Harry's voice was firm now, his patience wearing thin. He grabbed her hands to stop her flailing, his grip firm but gentle.

“If y’donf behave yourself then we’re going back home,” he parented, stopping her hands from hitting his face once again. “Do y’understand, daddy?”

[inquisimer]

Arlow and Viago “can you hear my cry, an old lullaby drifting through the sky?” >:]

HELLO MY LOVE I am kissing you on the lips, I put that one on the list and was like "this is an arlow & viago prompt", thank you for reading my mind

Arlow de Riva & Viago | 808 words | for @dadrunkwriting - da4 spoilers, Viago ruminates (regrets?) Arlow's absence from Antiva

-

Viago missed Salle.

Not that the accommodations in Treviso were lacking—his apartments here were more than sufficient. But they were suffocating without Arlow there to fill the empty spaces where she usually was. He wished things were such that he could lock the door and flee to his villa in Salle.

But the Antaam remained. And he had no right to be missing Arlow, when he was the one who sent her away.

As she deserved, he reminded himself. If she had simply thought before launching herself at those Antaam, they would never have been in this situation. Yet, the ache in his throat remained.

Treviso’s skyline was bathed in the pink and orange hues of sunset. From the balcony, it was easy to imagine that the city was still theirs, and that Arlow would be tripping off a zip line any moment, reporting in on this contract or that surveillance. Smirking and insufferable, but alive and there.

“You’re brooding again.”

A Qunari war horn blasted Viago’s reminiscence to pieces. His fingers tightened on the railing. “I’m always brooding. You like it.”

Teia’s bare feet padded softly against the slats and Viago wrinkled his nose. Off the top of his head, there were half a dozen poisons easily concealed in wood stain and best absorbed through the skin. But she didn’t care about that—or, at least, she knew that he had the antidote for any toxin that could touch her only a whisper away.

“it is not half so attractive when you are truly troubled,” she murmured, propping herself as close to his side as she could without touching him. Her hair fell loose and unruly over the collar of his shirt. But even that only just hitched the melancholy tune of his thoughts. “You miss her.”

Viago huffed. “She is the most competent assassin in my House and we are under an occupation. It is like being without my best blades.”

“Do not pretend she is nothing more than a weapon to you,” Teia chided. “Lie to yourself, if you must, but do not lie to me.”

Viago’s nostrils flared, as they always did when Teia saw straight though him. He was learning to trust the tightrope she asked him to walk, but after a lifetime without a net, it was a hesitant process. Luckily for him, she had a penchant for hard cases.

“I have never sent her off for so long, nor so harshly,” he admitted. “And I do not know when she will return. It is… difficult.”

“You could know,” Teia suggested. “You could summon her back.”

“She has a contract.”

“And how will she know if she’s allowed to report in on it if you do not tell her that Antiva is open to her again?”

“You read my letter?” Viago raised a brow, but Teia’s smirk was unabashed. She shrugged and his gaze followed the fluid motion of her exposed collarbone.

“I wouldn’t have recommended leading with ‘idiot’, but she’s probably used to it.”

“If she wasn’t such an idiot all the time, she wouldn’t be,” Viago muttered. He looked down into the murky canal below and frowned. “She did not write back.”

Teia laughed, which only deepened his scowl. “Did you expect her to?”

“If the job was done, yes,” he snipped. “But it has been months.”

“And you sent her on an open-ended contract. I’m sure if anything drastic happened, Varric would write. That is why you hooked her up with him, no?”

Viago pursed his lips. “He has a track record of pulling asses out of fires. But I am not confident in his definition of drastic.”

“He is perfectly competent, as you well know. You’ve never let your conscience get in the way of logic before, don’t start now.” Teia laid her hand out, palm up on the railing. After a beat, Viago laced his gloved fingers with hers and she squeezed.

“If you want her back, Vi, you will have to face the other Talons and tell them so. Tell her so, in no uncertain terms. This is the corner you have painted yourself into.”

Viago glowered at the neighboring building. He hated few things as much as he hated Teia being right in a way that grated on his nerves. She could have at least done him the courtesy of acknowledging that he was not the only party at fault in this scenario.

“She will tell me when the job is done,” he said stubbornly. “When the job is done, and her lesson is learned, then we will bring her home.”

Teia sighed and shook her head. The sun slipped below the horizon and a familiar cloak of darkness covered them both. Covered Arlow, too, in the east. In Tevinter.

His throat tightened. Use it well, he thought. Use it well, and come home.

[tightjeansjavi]

Et Auream - Act III : Even In The Darkest of Places

A/N: despite the state that our world is currently in, I’m really proud of this chapter and how it has turned out. This was another chapter that I had completed gutted and rewrote from July. As always, a huge thank you to @sinsofsummers for being my beta 💗

word count: 4.8k

Summary: Even in the darkest of places, hope remains.

Pairing | Marcus Acacius x f!oc

Warnings: canon typical violence, enslavement, power imbalance, domestic abuse, language, transactional sex (not between Marcus & oc) misogyny, derogatory language, +18 minors dni! Let me know if I missed anything

series masterlist

SENATOR CASSIUS’S VILLA

“Amalthea, I have never witnessed such an act of defiance!” Aurelia whispered excitedly. The kitchen maid had become one of her dear friends—perhaps even a mother figure to her. She cherished the moments away from Cassius where she could simply be. Amalthea was old and wise, and she served Cassius longer than any of the rest of his servants had. She had taken Aurelia under her wing in every sense.

“It has been many years since a gladiator so boldly defied an emperor,” Amalthea said in disbelief. She was seated at the meager prep table, a basket of freshly plucked peas from the field were waiting to be shucked for Cassius’s dinner later. “Come sit with me, child. Help shuck these peas and tell me more of this brave gladiator.”

Aurelia tore her gaze from the archway window where in the distance she could just make out the city of Rome, and the looming Colosseum. She could still hear Cassius’s voice droning in her ear about how rogues like Acacius should be terminated. With a sigh she walked to the empty seat next to the older woman and sat alongside her. She reached into the basket and pulled out a few pea pods.

“They called him Acacius the merciful, but I fear that he is not receiving the same mercy that he gave his opponent,” she said quietly, her voice laced with genuine concern.

Amalthea reached over the table and gently squeezed her forearm with a saddened smile. “Defiance against an emperor is often met by cruel punishment, Aurelia. Acacius the merciful may not live to see another day,” she said pensively.

Aurelia’s shoulders slumped forward at the thought of Acacius being wrongfully punished for his defiant actions. She knew that this was customary, but it didn’t make it any less morbid.

“I want to go to him,” she said suddenly, surprising not only herself, but Amalthea as well.

“Aurelia,” she warned. “That would be foolish of you, and not to mention extremely dangerous. Our Dominus wouldn’t stand for it either. You and I both know his disdain towards the gladiators all too well.”

“Amalthea, your concern will not go unnoticed, but our Dominus will be at the brothel for hours after dinner. He won’t return till the early morning hours, if at all.” She had wishful thinking in her mind that her abuser would miraculously never return again and she would never have to endure his cruelty for another day.

“Would your intrigue for this gladiator weaken if he had not acted in defiance?” Amalthea said teasingly, a playful lilt in her tone.

“Amalthea!” Aurelia gasped and giggled softly at her teasing. “My admiration for Acacius is not what you’re thinking it is, I swear!” she protested.

The older woman laughed and the corners of her eyes crinkled, showing her own buried youth appearing, even if just for a moment.

“Forgive me, child. I had to ask,” she said softly and reached for another peapod. “I know well enough that once your heart is set on something, there is no deterring you. The Ludus Magnus is no place for a woman, Aurelia.”

“Rome is no place for a woman, and yet, here we are,” Aurelia solemnly reminded her.

Amalthea huffed out a laugh and shook her head with a knowing grin, “I just want you to be careful, Aurelia, but if you’re truly that determined, take Luna from the stables. She will guide you.”

“I knew you would come around eventually,” she winked subtly at the older woman, and the two returned to their fits of giggling as the sun began to slowly make its descent from the heavens.

When dinner was prepared, Cassius requested for Aurelia to present him his meal in his private study and she knew what this entailed, but she had no choice but to obey.

Amalthea gave her a sympathetic look as she placed the tray that contained Cassius’s meal in her awaiting arms and Aurelia wordlessly turned on her heel and walked towards the direction of his private quarters.

Cassius was seated at his desk, hunched over and focused on the parchment laid out in front of him when he heard a soft knock on the other side of the door.

“You may enter,” He said.

Aurelia took a deep breath and quietly pushed the door open while keeping the tray steady in her arms.

“Good evening, Dominus,” she bowed her head slightly before approaching his desk and gently placed the tray down in front of him, careful to not disturb the papers laid out in front of him.

Cassius paid no attention to her and reached blindly for a piece of thigh meat from the perfectly roasted chicken and tore off a chunk with little care when the savory juice dribbled down his chin.

Aurelia assumed that she could take her cue to leave, but as soon as she turned to walk away, Cassius finally acknowledged her presence.

“I did not dismiss you, Aurelia,” he sighed through his nose. “Sit with me,” he commanded.

She steeled her expression, her fists clenched at her sides. She had foolishly hoped that tonight she would not have to endure his unwanted touch.

“Don’t be shy,” He said wryly, and with his freehand he tapped his knuckles along the desk impatiently.

Aurelia moved towards his side, expecting that he had wanted her to sit in his lap, but when he tilted his head to the side and his eyes flickered towards the floor, she slowly lowered herself to her knees.

He placed his hand against the crown of her head and threaded his fingers through the tresses of her mahogany hair and let out a content sigh from the back of his throat.

“That’s better.” He was pleased, but not as much as he would have liked to be. And when he sensed her discomfort, he tightened his grip around her skull, just enough to make her wince from the sensation. “Although, you could be doing more than just sitting there,” he said suggestively, not masking his true intent when he guided her head towards his lap. “It would please me even more if you were so kind as to tend to me with your affections.”

So much for wishful thinking.

—

When Cassius finally left for his evening excursions, Aurelia crept from her chambers and headed down to the stables. Amalthea was waiting for her, unexpectedly, and while she focused on tacking up Luna, Amalthea reminded her of the very real dangers to being out after dark. Aurelia appreciated her concern, but this did not deter or sway her mind to stay within the safety of the villa.

“I will be back before the sunrise, I promise. Cassius won’t even know that I was gone,” Aurelia reassured her as she gracefully swung her leg over the front of the saddle and gathered up the reins in her hands gently.

“I’ll pray to Fortuna for your safe return, and to Salus for the gladiator Acacius. Ride swift and silent and do not let anyone see you. Bona fortuna, Aurelia.”

“Et videbo vos ante solis ortum,” (and I will see you before the sunrise) Aurelia whispered and gently squeezed her heels against Luna’s sides to ease her into a trot down the gentle sloping hill. She used the moon as the only guiding light to where Acacius and the rest of the gladiator’s were imprisoned within the city.

A cloak over her head concealed her identity, and when she neared the Ludus Magnus, she slowed Luna to a walk before she carefully and quietly dismounted in a secluded area. She imagined that the structure would be well guarded, but after investigating the area, she discovered a side entrance that was well hidden by shrubbery.

The interior was dimly lit, with only a few torches providing limited light. As far as she could see, there were no guards keeping watch in the immediate vicinity.

She could hear the crackling of flames from the torches, and the scurrying of rats along the floor, and just as she was turning a corner to head down one of the many corridors, a hand reached through the darkness and clamped down around her mouth. She struggled in its grip as she was forced back against a hard chest.

“Well, well, well,” a darkened voice chuckled against the shell of her ear, holding her captive. “What do we have here?” The voice belonged to a male, one of the guards she had presumed. “A pretty little lamb that has wandered far from her flock? Perhaps the gods have finally answered my prayers!” he cackled gleefully.

Her voice was muffled against his hand as she continued to struggle in his grip. “Un-hand me!” she cried out, but it was useless.

“Absolutely not!” he laughed and with his freehand he blindly searched for the knot to her stola. Her eyes widened in fear, and she bit his hand that held her mouth captive as hard as she could. He let out a surprised yelp, and his hand instinctively loosened around her mouth just enough for her to wriggle out of his grip, but he recovered quickly and shoved her roughly against a nearby wall. “Stupid fucking bitch!” he spat and unsheathed his dagger. “You’ll pay for that,” he snarled and pressed the edge of the blade against her throat. “Been waiting for something pretty to stick my cock into. I’ll give you a real reason to scream, whore.”

“Wait!” she yelled in fear. “If you release me now, I will see to it that you are rewarded!”

He narrowed his eyes, brows pinched together and dragged the tip of his blade down the column of her throat, but he didn’t get very far, not with the iron collar on her neck blocking the path of his blade. There was even a tag dangling in the middle of it, and when he leaned in closer, he could make out the engraved lettering: Si repertus sum, Cassium me senatorem redde. Retribuetur vobis. (If I am found, return me to Senator Cassius. You will be rewarded)

The guard stowed his dagger back into its sheath. “I wonder how well rewarded I will be when I return you to your Dominus,” he mused with a grin.

“You will be rewarded less if you have come to harm me. My Dominus will not take it lightly if there is even a scratch upon me,” Aurelia said boldly.

“Senator Cassius will reward me for what I feel is owed,” he snapped and grabbed her roughly by her forearm.

“Before you return me to him, I have one request,” she winced from his tight grip on her arm. “Must you handle me so roughly? I will go without a fight, I assure you.”

“I don’t believe you’re in the position to be requesting anything of me,” he scoffed and started to drag her towards the exit, but she dug her heels into the ground in an attempt to slow him down.

“Please!” she cried. “It is one simple request,” she pleaded. “I can offer you more than just coin if you agree!”

He sneered at this and loosened his grip around her arm. He turned around and faced her fully. “Is that so?” his eyes trailed down her body, lingering at the gentle swell of her covered breasts, and the curve of her hips. He licked his lips in anticipation. “Perhaps I can be…persuaded.”

She fought the urge to turn her nose up in disgust at the way he was violating her with his eyes alone.“I will give you what you want, and I will not fight it. But in return, you will show me where the gladiator Acacius resides.”

“Acacius?” he questioned with a scoff. His frame towered over her and his eyes held nothing short of malice in them. “What’s a pretty thing like you want him for, hm?”

She refused to make direct eye contact with him and turned her head to the side. “It does not concern you.”

“Oh,” he laughed. “I think it does concern me and unless you want me to make it hurt, I suggest you start talking. Don’t be so naive to think that just because your Dominus would be angered to see his prized whore scuffed up, that I won’t be cruel.”

Aurelia had always found it morbidly fascinating to experience just how quickly men would resort to threatening violent measures if women did not immediately give them what they wanted. She had experienced this exact scenario many times with Cassius, and by now she was numb to the mistreatment and cruelty she endured almost daily. Her heart, nonetheless, would always sink to the pit of her stomach whenever situations like this would arise.

Were all men truly this cruel?

He studied her intently, and when she didn’t respond, he grabbed her chin between two fingers and forced her to look at him. “Do you want to fuck him, is that it?” he questioned her dryly, amusement dripping in his tone.

“I beg your—”

“Oh, don’t act like you’re pure all of sudden. Besides, it was a fair question.You think you’re the only whore that has skipped down here in hopes to lay with a gladiator?” he snorted. “You’ll be met with sheer disappointment m’afraid. I heard a rumor that all of the gladiators were gelded.”

She fought her immediate urge to glare at him and his wild accusations.“I do not wish to lay with him.”

“Sure, sure,” he waved her off dismissively. “That's what they all say.”

“Well, rest assured, that is not why I am here. I just found his act of defiance in the arena today…admirable,” She admitted truthfully.

“Admirable?” he released her chin only to grab her by the waist and yanked her roughly in his grip so her chest collided with his own. “Defying the emperor’s command is admirable? Hm. I’m sure that’s exactly the reason why he was punished for his merciful actions then.”

Her face fell at his words. Was she too late? Was Acacius beaten to death for his defiance? No, he couldn’t be. The guard was just toying with her vulnerability. Acacius was surely alive. He must be.

“Don’t look so sad, whore. Acacius is still breathing. I’ll gladly escort you to his cell, after you complete your end of the deal, of course,” he said with a twisted sneer.

A deal is a deal, after all.

____

Just down the corridor, in a compacted cell, Marcus Acacius laid in filth. His bed, the single form of comfort that he had, was stripped from him, and he was forced to sleep upon the cold, unforgiving floor. His ankles were bound in iron, shackled to the stone wall, and his back was bare. The lacerations on his marred skin had since begun to crust over with dried blood, but he was badly wounded and received no care. His dreams were restless, and images of his mother flashed behind his trembling eyelids.

Let me go home, please. I wish to feel her gentle embrace. To hear her voice. Gods, take me out of my misery, I beg you.

“In this life and the next, you will always be my son, but your time has not yet come, Marcus. There is much life you have left to live. Remember, you must continue to be brave, gentle, just and compassionate. No matter what life throws your way, promise me you will always remain true to your heart and the values I have instilled in you.”

“How can I be brave, gentle, just, and compassionate in a world that is so cold, and has only been cruel to me?”

“You have to believe in your heart that there is goodness left in this world. There is kindness you have yet to experience, my son. Do not close the door on the possibilities of happiness. There is evil, yes, but there is also light in this world, Marcus. There is hope and there is love that dwells even in the darkest of places.”

Her image began to fade from his conscience as his body began to stir and wake at the sound of approaching footsteps, and hushed voices.

“Wait! Please, don’t go! Mother, please!” he called for her in his dreams and his hand reached for her in the darkness, but he grasped nothing but cold, damp air between his calloused fingers.

“Why has no one tended to his wounds?” a soft, feminine voice filtered in through his semi-conscious state.

“The orders were not given,” the guard, who Acacius knew as Cato, said to her in a hushed tone.

“Well, I am giving them. If his wounds are not treated soon, they will fester and he will die of infection,” she whispered in urgency.

“What do I look like to you? A charity service?” Cato laughed, and the sound grated Marcus’s ears.

“Please, just fetch me a pail of water, and do so quickly.”

Cato let out a grumbled sigh and nodded before turning on his heel and walked back the direction they had come from with little urgency in his pace. He was unsure as to why he was so willing and compliant to obey her request, but did little to question it.

Acacius sensed her presence as she knelt on the floor outside of his cell. Who was she? Why had she come? What was her purpose? Questions ran wild in his head.

She was relieved when she could just barely make out the shaky rise and fall of his chest, and the wheeze of labored breaths escaping through his chapped, parted lips. The pale moonlight from a single window in the cell, casted an eerie glow upon his severed and torn back and the stench of death permeated her senses.

He will not die tonight, this is certain. I will save him. She was determined.

“Sir!” she whispered through the stagnant air, not wanting to raise her voice enough to startle him from his rest.

Acacius, however, did not stir from his light slumber, and even when she rattled the steel bars that kept him imprisoned from her, and her from him, between her fists, he laid there, unmoving except for the slight twitch of his hand that was still outstretched, as if he had been reaching for something in the never ending darkness that consumed him.

“Acacius, please! You must—”

His eyes snapped open at the sound of his name leaving her lips like a plea, and out of reflex he immediately reached for his sword, forgetting that it was no longer on his person. He was in a daze, feeling delirious from dehydration and the unbearable pain he felt in his pulsing shoulder and in his back from the deep, exposed gashes that marred his beautiful tanned skin.

He let out a grunt as he struggled to pull himself up into an upright position from where he laid on his side. Every muscle and tendon in his body screamed at him to rest, his brain sensed danger until he whipped his head around and his hardened, and disoriented stare landed upon her.

“I mean you no harm, sir. I swear it,” her words were rushed as she wanted to reassure him that he had nothing to fear, not from the likes of her. She didn’t even have the desire to harm a mere fly.

“How do you know my name?” he rasped through clenched teeth. His voice was even deeper than she imagined, with an edge of hardened grit, but she could sense a warmth residing in his tone; hidden but unmistakable.

She opened her mouth to speak and explain herself, but Cato had poor timing and arrived with a pitcher of water and a vial of olive oil.

She tore her gaze from Marcus’s and glanced upwards at Cato with a desperate look in her eyes. “Unlock his cell.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“How am I to tend to his wounds if I am not in there with him?” she retorted.

“Di boni sint,” (Gods be good) Cato muttered under his breath and reached inside of his tunic pulling out a set of bronze keys. Acacius warily watched him from where sat.

The iron bars swung open, making a creaking sound along the hinges, and Marcus scrambled towards the wall till his back was met with cold hardness. His eyes widened with fear, and for a moment he was just a boy again and enduring the cruelty from a father who never wanted him.

“Peace, Acacius,” she said softly and rose to her feet. Her features were illuminated by the torch clasped in Cato’s hand and Marcus felt that the gods themselves were playing a cruel trick upon his already mangled brain. Surely, he was dreaming, for he had never gazed upon a maiden as beautiful as her. Was she even real? Or was she just a sick figment of his imagination? He did not notice the iron collar fastened around her dainty neck, he saw the softness in her eyes, a genuine kindness and warmth in them that he had not experienced for many years. He was awestruck.

“Gods, am I truly being blessed by Venus in the flesh?” he gasped. His eyes widened further before drooping from exhaustion. His mouth was dry, lips cracked and bleeding.

Cato couldn’t help but snicker at his delusions, but he was silenced by a stern look from her and quietly backed off.

“Leave us,” she said firmly, without looking at Cato and he retreated from the open doorway.

“Sir, I’m afraid you are mistaken. I am not the goddess Venus. I’m just…a girl,” she said quietly.

His fear manifested when she crouched down in front of him, the sincerity in her eyes did not fade, and she cautiously outstretched her hand in his direction. “I am here to help you, Acacius.”

His posture stiffened at this. His apprehension was apparent and he glowered in her direction. “I am not requiring your help, girl,” he hissed.

“You are untrusting of me, and I understand why, but if I do not tend to your wounds, they will fester and you will die,” she said soberly.

“Do you think I am not aware?” he scoffed. “Let them fester. Let me die. Why should you care what becomes of me?” he snapped.

She did not flinch or cower from his tone and her hand hovered near his reach, but he still did not acknowledge it. “I cannot allow you to die, Acacius. It is against my morals and nature.”

“Then you must be a figment of my imagination,” he muttered and turned his head to the side to stare at the wall. “Morals don’t exist here, my lady. Only suffering and death. It is only a matter of time,” he said defeatedly.

“I am as real as they come, I assure you.”

He tore his gaze from the nearest wall and looked upon her once more. He eyed her hand suspiciously, and then trailed his gaze across her face and down to her neck. His stare paused at the mark of ownership, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“You’re just a slave to the Empire…like me,” he whispered and his hand slowly rose from his side, brushing the brass tag attached to the collar. He expected her to flinch from his touch, but she did not.

He dropped his hand back to his side and sank further against the wall with a deflated sigh. He eyed the pail of water and vial of olive oil alongside her that would be used to cleanse his wounds, if he allowed it. “You have yet to answer my question, my lady. How do you know my name? How did you know where to find me? Who sent you?” he fired off questions that were buzzing in his brain.

“No one sent for me, Acacius. I came here on my own accord after watching you bravely fight in the arena today. That is where I learned of your name.”

“I wouldn’t say I was brave,” he said humbly. He eyed the collar around her neck once more, and despite his guarded demeanor, and his engrained nature to lash out like a wounded animal, his shred of empathy extends to her. “My lady, I mean no disrespect, but the Colosseum is no place for a selfless, kind soul such as yourself. You shouldn’t be exposed to such…brutality,” he trailed off.

“Acacius, I am no lady. I am just—a common whore. My Dominus takes great pleasure in watching you and other Gladiators fight to the death. I’d even say it’s his favorite event.”

“Who is your Dominus?” his question lingered heavily in the stagnant air.

“Senator Cassius.”

“He may have labeled you as a whore, but in my eyes…I see a lady,” he whispered without understanding just how greatly she appreciated that he saw what others did not.

“You are too kind, Acacius. Your words touch me.”

His grim, hardened demeanor quickly returns in the form of a deepened scowl on his face and he leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. He inhaled a lungful of air, his chest expanding and then deflates as he released the air through his flared nostrils. “You truly should not be here. This is no place for a lady, and if something were to happen to you, I could not protect you. These chains bind me till the morning,” he said quietly and yanked on the chains that bound his ankles to stone for good measure. “You should leave immediately. Leave me to rot here.”

“Acacius, I cannot stomach leaving you here and allowing your wounds to fester. Not when you have done nothing to deserve the punishment you endured. Bravery should not be met with the cruel lash of a whip,” she reached her hand near his shoulder, to brush her fingers against his tarnished skin, but he recoiled from her touch and pressed himself further against the wall. He felt the torn skin on his back wailing for reprieve, but he grits his teeth to mask the pain.

“Bravery?” he seethed through clenched teeth. His pupils seemed to darken under the shallow guise of the pale moonlight. “My acts of mercy upon my opponent made me appear weak. As if my heart wasn’t forged in steel! As if my compassion for humanity means more than the pride I feel when my blade pierces through the hearts of my enemies! I am a gladiator. I was raised as a ruthless fighter as soon as I could grasp a sword!” he exclaimed. The whites of his eyes showed a faux fierceness, but hidden in the depths of brown, there was fear.

“I have the blood of the innocent on my hands. Killing has been ingrained in my being since I was a small boy! My duty and honor lies with the empire, to the Emperors. It is all I have ever known, and all that I will ever know,” he gritted out, but his voice wavered, trembling with each syllable spoken as if he was trying to convince himself that being a gladiator under the Emperor's rule was truly all he’ll ever amount to in life. That he would never know softness, or genuine—real love from another unfortunate soul like his own.

She felt his pain, heard it seep in through his somber tone, and saw it in his anguished expression on his rugged, gold-kissed face. He may have been a bloodthirsty warrior in the Emperor's eyes, but in her own softened gaze, she saw a frightened boy that had been broken, ripped apart by cruel hands. “No,” she said sadly, “You’re just a boy.”

Aurelia and Acacius were two sides of the same coin; slaves to the Empire and forced into a life of endless servitude, bowing at the feet of those born into riches with their fancy silks and golden adornments. Their cruel whips in their dominant hands, and overflowing goblets of wine in the other.

A heavy charged silence simmered in their close proximity. He could hear her heart beating from where he sat and the sharp inhale of breath that she took.

“Please leave me here, my lady,” he said quietly, tone deflated of any emotion. He was giving up, she was certain of it.

“Please, Acacius,” she tried one more time to break through his guarded exterior. “Let me help you.”

His feelings were conflicted, it was written across his face, between the furrow of his brows, the subtle pout of his lips, and the swirl of brown and flecks of gold in his irises. He wanted to fight against the softness inside of him that begged to be released. The part of him that he had buried for so many years. He wanted to fight it tooth and nail, barred teeth and sharpened claws ready to strike at a moment's notice, but he remembered the words his mother had spoken to him.

“There is evil, yes, but there is also light in this world, Marcus.”

Could this unnamed stranger be the light that his mother spoke of? Could she be his purpose? His reason to fight to see another day?

“Marcus,” he whispered, “my name is Marcus.”

star banner made by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications

[miryum]

Trust (Mattheo Riddle x Reader) Southern Regency AU

Warnings: Reader is a bit of a brat/empty-minded at first but it gets so much better, 10-ish age difference, Reader is in love with Harry Potter at first (or thinks she is), set in the South (of the US), inspired by Gone With the Wind

Y/n L/n was the belle of the South. She had the Weasley twins running after her every weekend and at the weekly balls, their older brother, Charlie, had to have the first dance with her. Her father had rejected numerous suitors, but that didn’t mean they stopped trying. The Diggory family had made a large offer, but their estate was too small for the L/n family.

The L/n’s consisted of the patriarch, William, and the matriarch, Peggy. While William ran the fields, Peggy ran his heart and household. Their oldest was their pride and joy, Y/n, followed by Odessa. Odessa hated being in her sister’s shadow. It meant her infatuation for George Weasley was seen as childish and unwanted. The L/n’s had one last daughter, Della, who was ten years younger than Y/n. Della was a sweetheart who trailed after her mother, following every step religiously.

The family had many acres of fields stretching around their mansion, as did everyone else in the county. Their fields were rich with grains that shipped out to the rest of the state. William had built up an empire that was now run smoothly by his wife. So, no, not a Weasley or Diggory was good enough for their daughter. She was much too young and had years ahead of her before she was considered an old spinster.

Many boys trailed after Y/n, begging for a chance to court her, and she was happy to flirt with them. The boys, after years of growing up around the same children their entire lives, soon learned how to gain Y/n’s attention. They had to catch her when her father was busy, otherwise she would turn into his perfect, sweet little girl who could do no wrong. If her sisters were around, the younger girls would try to steal the attention and Y/n would revert to her cool, unimpressed self that none of the boys could crack. However, if the girl was at a ball or they rode over to her house to catch her reading on the porch, that’s when she would flirt and touch their arm lightly with her coy smile.

But it was not the Weasley twins or the Diggory boy that Y/n wanted. It was Harry Potter. The boy was so oblivious, it was tantalising. He had a mature air around him that no other boy did. He would ride up to her house every Sunday on his majestic white horse, Hedwig, and speak to her like no one else did. He read her poems and took her riding and was just so pretty. He talked a lot about politics and the different families of the South, and that Y/n didn’t like, but he made it up with the little gifts he brought her. There was that lace fan he brought her after his Grand Tour and even some pressed flowers in a thick book. She tried to read the book to show Harry that she cared, but it had such tiny print and was about boring law that she gave up after the first couple of paragraphs.

It was a cool June evening and the windows were open at the L/n villa. The soft breeze ruffled the curtains when the neighbour’s gossip finally reached the ladies in the house. A new engagement in the state! The four females sat at the dining table, William at the head, seemingly bored. Odessa asked excitedly who would be going to the engagement party, thinking of her dear George Weasley.

“It seems like everyone in the county,” Peggy commented, regurgitating what she had learned from the women in her cross-stitch group. “The Weasleys, the Longbottoms, the Malfoys.”

William scoffed and rattled off, “the Weasleys? Their entire brood? And the Longbottoms? They’re hardly in high society. Why invite them? And must we engage with the Malfoys? You know how they get, dear Peggy.”

“William,” Peggy reprimanded, clicking her tongue. “It’s Ginerva’s engagement. Do be kind.”

Y/n raised her head from her plate and asked, “Ginny’s getting married? The little one? To whom? Wasn’t that boy Dean Thomas pursuing her?”

“No, no,” Peggy waved her daughter off. “He was a nice young lad, but they never got along.” She took a bite of food as if she wasn’t about to deliver earth-shattering news to her unsuspecting daughter. “She’s getting married to Harry Potter.”

Y/n didn’t think she heard the rest of the conversation. Small Ginny Weasley, the girl with the choppy red hair and ugly dresses, was marrying her Harry? The Harry that had the most beautiful eyes and lovely lilting words and understanding conversations? Yes, their families were close and Harry was best friends with Ginny’s older brother, but he loved Y/n. She knew it. The way he lit up when he saw her and the way his smile slowly stretched over his lips until he was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. All of that was her Harry.

“Y/n?” Della asked from the other side of the table, always aware of her elder sister. “Are you alright?” But the girl couldn’t say anything. For if she did, then her whole family would know her secret. And then her mother would be embarrassed and aghast. Her father would think of her as yet still a child, brushing away her affection. Lousy Odessa would gossip to George Weasley and his twin, wanting to win over their favour, and the twins would surely tell their engaged sister. Della wouldn’t understand, the poor girl just an infant in Y/n’s eyes.

“Yes, yes, I’m alright,” Y/n muttered. “Father, I’m feeling a bit faint. I think something with the salad didn’t sit right with me. I’m to lie down.”

William muttered permission, waving his daughter away. Y/n tried not to run to her room, for fear it would give her emotions away. But the moment her door was locked safely behind her, she fell onto her bed, sobbing. How could Harry do this to her?

Oh, what was her life coming to?

Y/n had a plan. If only she could get Harry alone at his engagement party and confess her true feelings, he would see they were meant to be together. The problem was that Ginny stuck to his side like annoying glue. It seemed as if the two were off in their own little world, gazing into each other's eyes. Well, Y/n huffed to herself, two can play that game. That’s how she found herself surrounded by beaus from all over the county.

Cedric Diggory sat on the bench next to her and the Weasley twins sat at her feet on the grass. Fred Weasley went even farther and laid his head on her skirts dramatically whenever he wanted her attention. Neville Longbottom stood beside them all, looking nervously back at his Gran, who was determined to get her grandson connected to the L/n’s. Even Dean Thomas, still getting over his loss of Ginny Weasley, was there, trying to talk to an anxious Neville.

Batting her eyes and fanning herself playfully under the pretence of the hot sun, Y/n walked the line of flirtatious and bashful perfectly. She could feel the glares of all the other girls at the party, but she ignored them. She was talking to George Weasley when she spotted another boy to catch in her web. “Oh, Georgie, the Malfoy’s are here,” she commented smoothly.

This caught the rest of the suitor’s attention. “Oh, joy,” Fred said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Come, Y/n, let me whisk you heroically away before that greased boy tries to woo you.”

“You mean Draco?” Y/n laughed melodically, which made Neville blush deeply. “Oh, he’s no harm. A bit rude and uppity, but just a boy when it all comes down to it.”

“Yes, but a boy,” Fred confirmed. “You, love, need a man.” At that, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Y/n opened her fan and hid her face behind it teasingly. “Oh, Mr. Fred, you charmer,” she chastised.

“Oh, my,” Cedric breathed out, which made Y/n’s attention turn from Fred, who pouted, to the Diggory boy. Did the Malfoy’s bring a girl that captured Cedric’s eye? Oh, that would be horrid for her plan. But, no. Following Cedric’s stare, Y/n saw another man emerge with Mr. Lucious Malfoy.

“Who is that?” she asked without thinking, placing a hand on Cedric’s arm.

“What on earth is he doing here?” Dean Thomas demanded, back stiffening and hands clasping behind his back. His voice was just loud enough for Y/n and her suitors to hear. But he didn’t answer her question.

Y/n huffed slightly and turned to Neville. He would always be at her beck and call. “Neville, who is that man?” she asked again, tone firm.

Neville tore his eyes away from the mysterious man and stuttered, “uh, well, Miss Y/n, that’s Mattheo Riddle.” He slowly sat down next to her, as if testing the waters.

“Mattheo Riddle?” Y/n repeated, the name feeling heavy on her tongue. “Why, I’ve never heard of him.”

“Then your father did a good job,” Fred glowered. It seemed as if he wasn’t the only one shooting dirty looks at the new man.

Dean Thomas agreed, “yes, no respectable lady should have heard of him. An absolute abomination of a gentleman.”

Y/n’s eyes widen in the presence of new gossip and scandal, something all ladies of the county grasped for. None were above whispering to their friends behind their hands whenever they heard something enticing. “Whatever did he do?” she asked desperately.

Cedric was the one to inform her that Mr. Mattheo Riddle was the infamous bastard child of Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Lestrange. That made him the nephew of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. Allegedly, Mr. Riddle’s father had left him and his mother at a young age, only making visits when he felt it necessary to shape Mr. Riddle into a harsh young man. Mr. Riddle had left to join the military, but was dishonourably discharged when he shot and killed another man for speaking ill of his family and upbringing. He then followed in his father’s footsteps of backalley trading and illicit affairs. With his father and mother’s separate fortunes, along with the one he earned, he had amassed large wealth.

Y/n couldn’t help but watch Mattheo Riddle. Neville tried to hold a conversation with the girl, and she tried to entertain him, she really did, but the way Mr. Riddle held himself on the outskirts of the party captivated her. With a drink swirling in one hand and the other tucked smartly behind his back, he looked… perfunctorily debonair.

For a man a decade older than her, he was incredibly handsome. He was easily the best dressed man at the party, even better than Lucius Malfoy himself. And his hair was most unusual. Rather than the slicked back style that most young boys wore, his had more volume, showing his curls. Y/n could see his striking and calculative eyes from across the yard. They took one sweep around the party, yet glazed over her.

It took everything within Y/n not to march over to the newcomer and demand his attention. Why were his eyes not on her? But then Neville placed a concerned hand on her back and asked if she was okay. He really is a sweet boy, Y/n thought to herself. “Yes, I’m alright,” she assured him. “I just may go lie down with the rest of the ladies.”

“Oh! Of course!” Neville scrambled to his feet and helped her up. Fred Weasley let out a whine when his headrest disappeared, but understood how a delicate lady needed her rest.

“Thank you, Neville,” Y/n said sincerely. She patted his hand and whispered theatrically, “you know… you didn’t hear this from me, but I think Miss Luna Lovegood fancies you.” Neville turned a dark shade of red as Y/n made her way to the house.

But she wasn’t going to nap. With the rest of the girls also laying down, including Ginny, this was her chance to speak to Harry. She would confess her love and he would tell her he always reciprocated and then he would break off his engagement and perhaps Ginny would be sad, but Y/n’s parents couldn’t get mad once they saw how happy their daughter was.

Once inside, Y/n saw Harry bid a loving goodbye to Ginny, the latter who went upstairs to nap. Her future fiancé then turned around and noticed her. “Y/n,” he greeted with a grin. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. “How are you? You’ve been so busy all party, I didn’t have the chance to talk to you!” Ah, so he had seen her with her suitors. Pride filled her. This was going perfectly.

“Harry, could we talk in the library?” Y/n asked, smiling up at him, an intoxication of love filling her veins. Harry raised a curious brow, but agreed. He followed her into the library where he asked if everything was alright. “Yes, I’m fine,” she told him. “I only need to tell you something, Harry.”

“And what is that?” Harry replied with a grin, thinking it was all some lighthearted joke.

Y/n pressed a hand to her chest and looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading. “Oh, Harry,” she began. “I must say something now before you go on with this whole affair! I mean, it is truly noble of you to sacrifice yourself for the poor girl, but I couldn’t let you go on with it! Especially when I know your feelings, Harry,” she said. The boy’s expression slowly changed to one of merriment to one of guarded concern. “I’m in love with you, Harry!” Y/n exclaimed, reaching forward to clasp his hands. “I have been all my life and I know you feel the same! So why marry Ginerva when you could marry me?”

Harry didn’t say anything for a moment before he slowly retracted his hands from her gloved grip. “Y/n,” he said slowly. “I’m utterly flattered. But I’m marrying Ginny. I can’t… I can’t love you, you know that, yes?”

Confusion showed on Y/n’s face, but a small smile still managed to quirk up on her lips. “But you do, don’t you?” she asked. “Love me, I mean. I know you do, Harry.” After a moment of hesitance, she added, “right?”

“Dear,” Harry said, taking her hands in his and patting them reassuringly. “I’ve always been fond of you. You’re very witty and brave. But that’s not… that’s not who I need. I need Ginny,” he stated, looking uncomfortable. “You’re a lovely girl. Any man would be lucky to have you. But… I’m not that man for you.”

Y/n didn’t remember the rest of the conversation. She was sure Harry said some more nice things, all very awkwardly, and she remembered that he kissed her lightly on the cheek, but then she was left alone. She let herself fall onto a nearby settee, face flushed and hand on her stomach. She felt sick. But she also felt mad. Terribly mad. And yet, depressed. Too many emotions were swirling around her that she wasn’t herself when, with a yell, she picked up a vase and hurled it across the room. With a satisfying smash, it crackled and split onto the floor, just like her poor heart.

A low, amused chuckle filled the room and Y/n whirled around to see Mattheo Riddle sitting up on a couch. “What- who- what are you doing here?!” Y/n cried.

“Why, I was just taking a nap when I got disturbed by an unrequited declaration of love and a splintered vase. Whose is that anyways?” Mr. Riddle asked smoothly, shoulders still shaking from his laughter. “Whom will your father have to pay off?”

“Don’t you dare tell my father!” Y/n said, somewhere between desperate and demanding. “Oh, you sordid man! You have no right to listen in on a private conversation.”

“A rather amusing conversation,” Mr. Riddle chuckled, a wry smile stretching his lips. “I never thought you the type to lust after Mr. Potter.”

Y/n’s skirts swirled around her as she turned away from him in anger but then rounded on him again. “You don’t know a thing about me, sir! Why, I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“And yet by the way you court all those other men, them begging after you like dogs, gives me a glimpse into your character.” It was then that Mr. Riddle took her hand in the most gentle way possible and laid a kiss upon her knuckles. The girl stilled. “Mattheo Riddle, at your service only, dear.”

“My service only?” is what Y/n could think to reply, not even giving her name like a proper lady would.

Mattheo inclined his head in a coy manner. “Yes.”

After a beat, Y/n grumped, “is that all you’re going to say?”

“I have nothing else to say.” Mattheo shrugged. One of his brows raised innocently. But Y/n got the feeling he was anything but. “Other than to ask for your name,” he added.

“Miss Y/n L/n and you will address me as such,” Y/n declared. “None of that ‘dear’ sobriquet.”

“Well, Miss Y/n L/n,” Mattheo began. “You best be hurrying along. The other women will wake from their rest soon and you wouldn’t want to be caught in the library with me, a sordid man.” He repeated her words back, but mockery laced his tone.

Y/n’s face grew hot and she spluttered a bit, looking very flustered and angered. Mr. Riddle watched on in amusement. “And how do I know you’ll keep your mouth shut about what you heard?” she asked finally.

At that, Mattheo Riddle smirked. “You don’t. You’ll just have to trust me.”

A week later was Harry and Ginny’s wedding. Y/n wore a deep blue dress, bordering on black. Yet she smiled and cheered along with the rest of the guests, even as her joy slipped away. She had half a mind to propose to Neville just to pull some attention onto her.

Mr. Mattheo Riddle was not there. Not that Y/n noticed.

She was sitting on the porch about three days later, pitying herself as she worked on her embroidery. She was trying to stitch a lovely sunrise, but she just couldn’t get a cloud right. She hardly heard the sounds of horse hooves clopping down the drive. “Miss Y/n L/n,” a gratingly familiar voice called out.

She sighed and her hands fell to her lap in exasperation. “I’m doing my embroidery!” she called back. “I don’t have time for eavesdropping men who dub me frustrating monikers.”

“You sure know plenty of synonyms for nicknames,” Mattheo commented, swinging his leg over his horse to dismount.

“Father keeps me well read.”

Mattheo bounded up the porch steps to reach her, but then realised that looked too childish, no matter how much he wanted to see her. He quickly composed himself. “And what is the lovely lady sewing?” he asked, settling into the rocking chair near her.

“I don’t recall inviting you up for a chat,” she said snarkily. After a moment where he just smirked at her, she replied, “and it’s a sunset. Or a sunrise. I’m not entirely sure yet. Whatever it is, it’s mightily frustrating.” She pricked her finger with the needle and exclaimed out.

Mr. Riddle’s brows furrowed and he took the cross-stitch away, not wanting her to get any more hurt. “Don’t you have a maid to stitch this for you?”

“Mother thinks every proper lady should know how to wield a needle and thread,” Y/n said, her back straightening. She then scowled. “Of course, Odessa has already perfected hers.”

It was then that the girl noticed Mr. Mattheo Riddle carefully stitching her embroidery, his nimble fingers tugging and looping the needle perfectly. Noticing her shocked face, Mattheo explained, “my grandmother taught me how. It was one of her favourite pastimes. I pricked myself many times — just like you. Of course, my father found it too feminine, but I just liked spending time with my grandmother. Perhaps that’s why my grandmother taught me her craft: so I could spare you some trouble and pain. I will gladly do so, darling.”

The air settled around them. Her father’s hounds were barking in the field and she could hear the servants singing from behind the house, doing laundry. She shifted in her seat. “What was her name?” Y/n asked cautiously, still not trusting this man.

“Merope,” Mattheo answered softly. “The poor thing had memory loss, you know. She couldn’t remember my name, much less what we had stitched last time I had visited. But she loved me. And so she taught me how to embroider over and over again.”

Y/n swallowed thickly. She could almost envision Mattheo as a child, climbing onto his grandma's lap to watch her sew out a work of art. Maybe they had sat on a rocking chair on a porch, just like she and Mattheo did now. She watched him finish the cloud she had been working on before handing her back the hoop. “Why are you here?” she wondered, staring down at the cloud, which was done much better than her own.

“To convince you that you can trust me.” And with that, he stood and kissed her forehead before straightening his suit and walking back to his horse. As he gripped the reins in his hands, he yelled back, “oh, and to inform you that I’ll be competing for your hand!”

She saw him next about two months later, at another county party. But this party was special. It was all for Y/n.

William L/n had gone all out for his eldest daughter. This was the day when all the formal suitors presented themselves. Yes, Fred and George Weasley had been courting her for years, but it would now be official. Not only were two of the Weasleys there, but Cedric Diggory, Oliver Wood, Ernie Macmillan, and Dean Thomas and his close friend, Seamus Finnigan. Neville Longbottom was now happily engaged to Luna Lovegood.

As much as Y/n put on a front, being surrounded by men, some of which were years older, was intimidating. She flirted and blushed and acted like a lady, but when Seamus Finnigan talked to Cedric Diggory about the growth of their family’s crops, talking around Y/n as Oliver Wood tried to entertain her with polo facts, she felt useless. Bored. Like a prop to be placed on someone’s arm.

That’s when Mattheo Riddle walked in. He stayed on the outskirts of the party for a long while, observing. He didn’t hide the fact that he was watching Y/n’s attention be snapped up by suitor after suitor. His eyes were already on hers whenever she glanced up to him. It was a dangerous game he was playing, but one he didn’t want to quit. Maybe this was what had drawn him to this little county in the countryside. Maybe Draco’s letter of invitation wasn’t all for naught. It couldn’t be, not when her eyes made him feel more alive than ever before. Mattheo Riddle made a promise to himself, then and there, as he watched the seven suitors surrounding Y/n. He would marry that girl.

Only a few minutes later did Ernie Macmillan chuckle in disbelief. “Is that Mattheo Riddle?” he asked. Y/n let the other men answer, for fear of sounding as if she had been gazing at the forbidden man. Which, if her father asked, she had not.

“Sir!” Seamus Finnigan called out from where he was lounging on the couch. His arm hung over the back of Y/n’s chair, something he found courage to do with the whiskey flowing through his veins. “Come join us, I beg you.”

Mattheo quirked a brow but strode over from where he was leaning against the wall. “Gentlemen,” he greeted smoothly. “How are you all this fine day?” He shook hands with each man. It was only then he allowed his eyes to settle on Y/n. “Ah, my dear Miss Y/n.” Her eyes watched the way his lip curved into a smile. “It’s lovely to see you here.” He took her hand in his and brushed her knuckles to his lips. It took all of Y/n’s restraint not to take in a shaky breath.

“Why, this is her party, after all,” Fred Weasley said, smirking. “Why wouldn’t she be here?”

“Mr. Weasley.” Mattheo turned to the man. “Perhaps if you had paid attention to my words, I never said I was surprised to see her, only delighted. And I can assure you, I am very delighted.” George Weasley snickered and clapped his twin on the shoulder. Fred just glared at the Riddle heir.

Mattheo sat down on the ottoman by Y/n’s feet, posture straight and perfect. An electrifying shiver ran down his spine as Y/n asked how he was. “Splendid,” he told her. “After all, I am in your presence. Darling, if any of these men told you they were less than splendid, I’ll offer to kick them to the street at your command.” The suitors chuckled at the joke, but Mattheo just held his future wife’s gaze. They both knew he meant every word.

Oliver Wood shook his head. “I still can’t believe I have the honour to meet the Mattheo Riddle. From all the rumours, I thought you were surely a ghost story.”

“I hate to disappoint,” came the easy reply.

“No, no disappointment here.” Oliver held up his hands. “Just surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Mattheo stared down the man. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Oliver stammered out, “well, because people see you as- as well, good sir, I needn’t offend, but-”

“Cruel?” Mattheo supplied. After the awkward glances were exchanged between the suitors, he continued, “Unwanted? Cynical, unfeeling, only out for himself and his riches? Well, I can’t say you’re wrong,” he said simply. “I’ve done unhonourable things and I’ve lived my life for my own gain. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings. Or that I can’t love,” he finished, eyes on Y/n.

She shifted under his stare and opened her fan to hide her blush. “I may go lay down,” she whispered out. The seven men around her began to protest, but Mr. Riddle simply held his hand out for her to take. He helped her stand and then bid her farewell. He settled back onto the ottoman to which the other men glared at him.

“Why can’t you corrupt some other girl?” Ernie Macmillan grumbled into his whiskey glass that he took a long swallow of. The other suitors seemed to deflate as well, now calling for more alcohol, slouching in their seats, and using more vulgar language. It was only Mattheo Riddle that kept his posture, his little cup of whiskey, and preserved tone. But even he felt a flare of anger at Mr. Macmillan’s words. “Take another girl for your wife. But leave this one for the rest of us. Why do you suddenly have a claim over her?”

“Another girl, you say?” Mattheo repeated, voice low and protective. “Take another one for my wife and leave her for the rest of you? Is that what you think I want? To just take any girl as my wife? No,” he stated, plain and simple, “I want her and only her. And why do I have a sudden claim over her? I don’t. And do not mistake her for a girl, Macmillan. She is a fierce woman, one none of you boys could handle. But perhaps… Perhaps I have fallen in love with her. Against all reason and sanity,” he added in a mutter, taking a swig of whiskey.

“But it’s foolish!” Fred Weasley exclaimed as all other men were stunned to silence. “You- you’ve only met the girl – pardon, woman – once. More than two months ago. And serving my memory, you never even talked to the Miss.” Fred’s memory didn’t have all the facts, as Mr. Riddle had met Y/n twice and had talked to her on both occasions.

Mattheo shot back, “love often makes us do foolish things, does it not? And I’m willing to be a fool for her, if that’s what it takes.”

Cedric Diggory studied Mattheo for a moment before musing, “you’re an admirable man, Mr. Riddle. But you must know I, along with the rest of these men, will still fight for her hand. And we have an advantage: her father’s approval.”

“What does her father’s approval mean if you don’t have her heart?” Mattheo asked. “If she doesn’t love you, what good does it do?”

“Well, does she love you?” Seamus Finnigan implored, trying to turn the tables on the man.

At that, Mr. Riddle rested his weight on the palm of his hand, leaning back. Even though his face was collected, a brush of pain swept over his heart, knowing the answer was uncertain. “Does she love me?” he echoed, tone soft. “I hope so.” He knew when it was best to shut up, so he didn’t say what he really wanted to; she hasn’t said the words, but I see it in her eyes. I see the fire in her, the same fire that burns within me. “You may think it hopeless,” he observed, looking at the other men. “That it’s foolish, believing she could return my love. Call me a fool, then. But I know what I feel, and I won’t give up on her, no matter how hopeless it may seem.”

Y/n had made it a habit of sitting outside, in case Mattheo Riddle came riding by again. Her efforts weren’t in vain, for a couple days later, his horse trotted up.

The coy look on his face showed he was feeling sly and quick-witted that day. He would make Y/n vie for his affections, no doubt in her mind. He dismounted with a flourish and a smirk, his coattails flipping out behind him. “Ah, my dear Miss L/n,” he called out, his voice carrying mischief. “I hope I find you well today!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me by my last name,” Y/n replied, setting her book down. “‘Miss Y/n’, or perchance ‘dear’ or ‘darling’, but never Miss L/n.”

“Hmm, my apologies, my dear,” he said as he strode up towards her, mock formality in his voice. “I suppose I’ve become accustomed to calling you by your given name. But I do like the sound of ‘Miss L/n’ as well. It has a certain… ring to it.” He took a seat on the rocking chair next to her and studied her book. “Never thought you the type to read Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

“It’s a love story,” Y/n defended.

“It most certainly is not,” Mattheo chuckled. “You’ve read it before, I assume?”

Y/n huffed. Why she continued to entertain Mr. Riddle was beyond her. “His devotion is clear. And yes, I have. Anyway, before you so very rudely interrupted me, I was going to say I thought you would detest my last name.”

Mattheo clicked his tongue and leaned back in his chair. “There isn’t much I could detest when it comes to you,” he admitted, glancing over slyly at her.

“How sweet.” Y/n rolled her eyes sardonically, but couldn’t help but smile. She added after a moment, “though I still thought you would dislike it.”

He shot her a lazy smile. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time, looking out over her family’s lands. “And why would I dislike it, my darling?”

Y/n let out a soft, mischievous laugh. “Well, I thought surely you’d want to change it.”

“Change it, darling?” Mattheo raised a brow. “Pray tell, what would I change it to?”

Her eyes travelled to the sky, for if Y/n was to look at Mr. Riddle, her gaze would be transfixed on his lips. She swallowed and said slowly, “something that sounds like yours?”

Mattheo’s stare snapped towards her. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?” he murmured in a soft tone.

Ever playing coquettish, the woman responded, “what do you think I’m suggesting?”

Mattheo leaned in a bit closer, his heart beating faster at the notion he was about to say. “I think you’re suggesting you’d like to carry the Riddle surname, my darling,” he replied. “Is that what you’re implying?”

“Perhaps,” Y/n forced out after a short silence.

“And here I thought you thought me brutish and sordid.” When Y/n didn’t answer, an embarrassed flush on her cheek, he said in a quiet voice, “you know, if you enjoy Hunchback, you should see Notre Dame in person. Paris is lovely. We should go sometime.” He crossed one leg over the other and turned his attention back towards the horizon.

Y/n’s lips curved into a small smile. “I would like that.”

“Of course,” Mattheo added, clearing his throat, “if you’re still hung up on Mr. Potter, then you should probably go with him.”

Why, Y/n hadn’t thought about Harry once in the past weeks. How peculiar. And based on the little smirk on Mattheo’s face, he knew it. “I don’t think Harry and I were the right fit,” she said eventually.

“Oh?”

“No,” she mused. “It’s frustrating, yes? You think you have your whole life planned ahead and then… it gets ripped away from you.”

“Or maybe it’s just getting started,” Mattheo muttered. “Your life, I mean. You’re young, Y/n. And Harry Potter shouldn’t dictate whether or not your life has started or ended.”

“I’m not getting any younger,” Y/n complained. “Father wants to marry me off to a good, wealthy man before I turn twenty-five. I thought with Harry, I could get some love out of it as well.”

Mattheo asked honestly, “would it matter if you loved your husband if your husband loved you with everything in him?”

Y/n’s fingers fiddled with the pages of her book. “I think if someone loved me that much,” she whispered, “it would be impossible not to love him back.”

Mattheo felt his hand twitch as he looked down at her fingers. Slowly, he reached out to encircle her palm in his. His warm hand held hers loosely, so that Y/n could pull away if she wished, but just firmly enough that she could sense his devotion.

“Why… why are you doing this?” Y/n asked.

“The truth?” Once Y/n nodded, he continued, “I see the fire in you… The same fire that burns in me. Well, that used to burn in me.” Mattheo paused. “I’m sure you know of my father. I hated the man, and am ashamed to call him a father. But, even so, after he died, I’ve felt… stuck, Y/n. If we’re to keep with the fire analogy, I fizzled out. Yet with you…” he chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I’m sure you know where I’m going with this.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Y/n whispered. “Is this you proposing marriage, Mr. Riddle?” She smirked, even though her heart began beating a bit more quickly.

When Mattheo shook his head, she couldn't help but feel just a little bit disappointed. “No, that’s much too soon for you. Maybe in two or three years. But…” he threw her a wry grin, squeezing her hand lightly. “This is me proposing I begin courting you.”

“What?” Her hand flexed around his. “Really?”

“You can trust me.”

Four years later, because Y/n was notoriously stubborn when it came to her beau, Mattheo Riddle got down on one knee. “My darling dear,” he teased, using the nicknames he knew she hated. Y/n rolled her eyes in response. “You have made me wait what seems like millennia to finally officially call you mine. Of course, I’d wait aeons more, but I’m hoping that today, you’ll put me out of my misery and give me the honour of being your husband.”

“You’ll take me to Paris for the honeymoon?” Y/n asked, despite the tears shining in her eyes.

Mattheo let out a loud, joyful laugh. “Yes, yes I will.” And as he slid the ring on her finger, he murmured, “you can trust me.”

“I always have.”

[desertfangs]

DesertFang's (rainandcoffee's) Fic Masterlist 💖

For easy reference. Oldest to Newest.

Armand/Daniel

The Vampire Bar - M, 2.5k [Humor, Angst] Daniel, with his book newly published and still on the run from Armand, finds a "vampire" bar full of mortals.

The Mundanity of Mortality - M, 2.8k [Humor, Angst, Slice of Life] Daniel wakes up one night and realizes he has to take care of some boring human stuff, like laundry.

The Madness of Mortality - M, 3k [Angst, Hurt/Comfort] Daniel finds some gray hair, runs away, and loses it a little as he tries to decide where he belongs.

Pumpkin Carving - T, 1.5k [Boyfriend Era, Exploring the World] Armand learns about this Halloween tradition with Daniel's help.

Just Another Party - E, 1k [Public Sex] My first foray into writing smut

The Dancer - M, 3k [Angst, Grief, Comfort] Daniel learns that young dancer he and Armand sponsored in the late 70s has died.

Rings - M, 1.8k [Chase Years, Angst] Armand is surprised when Daniel is more observant than expected.

A Series of Decembers - M, 2.7k [Christmas, Angst] Daniel experiences Christmas through the years.

Turning Circles - M, 8k [Reunion, Angst, Fluff] My first attempt to write their reunion missing from Prince Lestat.

The Christmas Village - M, 3.2k [Christmas, Angst, Fluff] Daniel decides to build a Christmas village, but his obsessive nature causes Armand to worry he's falling into a dangerous old pattern.

So This Is the New Year - M, 8.9k [Humor, Fluff, Mild Angst] Armand is throwing a New Years party at court at Lestat's request, and Daniel is trying to avoid being there for too long.

Turn Me to Dust - M, 2.2k [Hurt/Some Comfort, Angst] Hurt and angry that Armand won't make him a vampire, Daniel threatens to go out and find another vampire who will.

Every Time I Look at You - T, 1.3k [Angst w/ a Happy Ending] Seeing Armand for the first time in years, Daniel doesn't know how to talk to him.

In the Midst of Madness - M, 8.3k [Angst, Hurt, Missing Scene] Armand begins to wonder where Daniel is and doesn't like the answer.

In the Mouth of Madness - M, 2k [Angst, Alternate POV] Daniel's POV of Armand's phone call from In the Midst of Madness

Changes - E, 3.8k [Angst, Humor, Fluff, Smut] Daniel isn't sure why Armand is hellbent on running them ragged but he's determined to figure it out before it blows up in his face.

Shadows and Stars - M, 6.5k [Humor, Fluff, Angsty Conversations] Daniel tries to surprise Armand for Valentine's Day. Post-Canon.

Collapse Into Me - E, 2.6k [Smut, Humor, Fluff] While Daniel and Armand fool around, Daniel discovers that Armand is ticklish and uses that to his advantage (somewhat).

Dead Drunk - E, 5.2k [Vampire Drunk, Smut, Humor] Armand and Daniel drink from intoxicated people and get vampire drunk together

Lace - E, 4.4k [Public Sex, Lace Panties, Humiliation] Armand gets Daniel a pair of lace panties for his birthday

In the Blood - M, 4.8k [Angst with a Happy Ending, Humor] A few months post-Queen of the Damned, Armand finds Daniel alone, avoiding everyone inside the Villa.

Wicked Designs - E, 4.9k [Smut, Light Bondage, Handcuffs] Armand buys novelty handcuffs.

Hey Pretty - E, 6.3k [Reunion, Voyeurism, Sentimental Smut] Daniel and Armand try to find their footing again in NYC (post-PL)

Carnal Pleasures - E, 2.7k [Smut, Chase Years] During the early years of the chase, Daniel finds himself in a motel, alone and wishing Armand would appear.

Five Times Daniel and Armand Almost Kiss During the Chase Years and One Time They Did - E, 5.9k [Chase Years, Humor, Angst, Pining] What it says on the tin.

Goddamn Aliens Part 1 and Part 2 - Mature, 2.5k each [Missing Scenes, Angst, Humor] Two scenes of Daniel reacting to the aliens and plot points in PLROA.

Forbidden Desires - E, 3.8k [Humor, Mild Angst, Smut, NI Era] Armand gets a new coffin and Daniel is determined to see it

Broken Orchid - E, 3.7k [Fighting Then Making Up, Angst, Trauma] Daniel and Armand are at Trinity Gate when they discover one of Louis' precious orchid flowers has died, and Armand blames Daniel.

Make the Season Bright - E, 6.1k [Christmas, Chase Years] Daniel finds himself in a shopping mall on Christmas Eve with his vampire stalker.

All Dust and Stone - M, 6.9k [New Year's Eve 1989, Angst] Daniel is not about to ring in the new year without trying to fix things between them, no matter how frustrating that may prove to be.

St. Patrick's Cathedral - M, 3.3k [Grief, Daniel's Madness] When Daniel learns that Armand has gone into the sun, his grief threatens to destroy him.

Haunted House - T, 2.3k [Daniel's Madness, Angst, Comfort] Armand and Daniel venture back to the house Daniel shared with Marius in Norway, and Daniel has to face is demons.

Grave Decisions - M, 3k [Grief, Angst, Comfort] Daniel is off by himself dealing with a personal matter when Armand finds him to make sure he's okay (and doesn't do anything stupid).

Dangerous Obsessions - E, 3k [Smut, Angst, Chase Years] Armand and Daniel discuss the meaning of Valentine's Day... and love. And get a little handsy, leaving Daniel extra confused.

The Amethyst Ring - M, 11k [Humor, Fluff, Angst, Reunion] Four interconnected stories about a ring.

Swipe Right - E, 18k [Human AU, Dating App, Smut] In this modern, human AU Daniel is a radio intern with a podcast who installs a Dating App to find love. Some Louis/Daniel as well.

Drifting Across the Moon - M, 3.8k [St. Patrick's Day, Angst, Fluff] A St. Patrick's Day Story: Daniel returns to Chicago, the last place he was alive as a mortal, trying to figure some things out.

Shake and Sway - E, 3.6k [New Vampire Daniel, Humor, Smut] Having finally arrived at Night Island after a long road trip, Daniel just wants some time alone with Armand.

Inebriated - M, 1k [Angst, Alcoholism] Daniel is drunk and pleading for the blood. Again.

The Chameleon - T, 1k [Chase Years, Humor, Armand in Glasses] Daniel is thrown a small surprise launch party for his book, Interview with the Vampire, and a special guest crashes.

Telephone Line - E, 2.6k [Vampire Phone Sex, PL Era] Daniel gets Armand to talk dirty about his latest kill over the phone.

An Evolution of Intimacy - E, 4k [Smut, Humor, Angst] A series of vignettes about Armand and Daniel being intimate in all the eras of their relationship.

Caught in the Crush - E, 2.9k [Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Smut] Armand, feeling a little dismissed and uncertain at Court, finds comfort in his only fledgling, Daniel.

Is it possible you never knew? - M, 5.1k [Angst, Reunion, Daniel's Madness] Armand pays a visit to the little house in Norway where Marius and Daniel are living, and Daniel worries about what his maker will make of him now.

Candy Cane - E, 3.4k [Christmas, Smut, Object Insertion] Armand & Daniel find non-traditional uses for a novelty candy cane.

Lestat/Daniel

Night Out - M, 3k [Angst, BroTP w/ Bennies, Humor] Daniel and Lestat meet up in New Orleans, vent some frustrations about Armand and Louis respectively, stalk a serial killer, and then make out a little.

The City Never Sleeps - M, 13k [BroTP, Angst, Humor] Lestat comes to Trinity Gate surprised to find Daniel alone and Daniel takes him on the Molloy Tour of NYC circa 1979

Leave Your Mark (+ Armand) - E, 5.2k [Hickeys, Smut, Threesome] Armand returns home to Trinity Gate and sees the very large mark left on Daniel's neck by Lestat.

One More Kiss, Dear - E, 4.6k [BroTP, Vampire Smut] An interlude between The City Never Sleeps & Leave Your Mark in which Daniel and Lestat return to Trinity Gate together.

Through the Garden Gate - E, 4.4k [Smut, Deep Discussions] Lestat and Daniel talk about Lestat's body swap and how Daniel worries his relationship with Armand is falling apart.

Marius/Daniel

Comfort and Joy - M, 2.9k [Christmas, Fluff, Humor] Daniel convinces Marius to decorate for Christmas.

Goddamn Aliens Part 3 - M, 2.5k [Missing Scene, Angst, Humor] Daniel tells Marius that he and Armand are leaving Court after things settle

Peripheral Ghosts - M, 1.7k [Angst, Daniel's Madness] Daniel thinks he sees Armand in a club and he and Marius discuss it

The Prime Minister's Assistant - E, 4.2k [Clothed Sex, Smut with the Boss] Marius wearing a sexy suit distracts Daniel

Red Wine - M, 2.7k [Angst, Fluff, Comfort, Daniel's Madness] Daniel ducks into a wine bar and stares at a glass of wine instead of hunting. Marius finds him.

Soul of an Artist - T, 1k [Fluff, Humor] Marius paints flowers on the walls of an abandon house and he and Daniel discuss art.

Five Times Daniel and Marius Almost Kiss and One Time They Did - M, 6.2k [Angst, Fluff, Daniel's Madness, Yearning, Kissing] Exactly what it says on the tin.

Another Halloween - 1.3k, M [Angst, Brooding] On a Halloween after he's recovered from his madness, Daniel is ruminating on the anniversary of his turning

Teetering on the Brink - M, 3.7k [Daniel's Madness, Hurt/Comfort] When Daniel has a mild relapse of his condition, it puts him in a danger and Marius has to come to the rescue.

Passion Play - E, 2k [Angst, Jealousy, Sexual Healing] Marius gets preoccupied by his thoughts and Daniel does his damnedest to pull him out of it.

Marius/Armand/Daniel

Into the Woods - M, 3.5k [Plot Driven, Relationships] A mysterious presence has been noticed in the woods around the Chateau. Marius, Armand, & Daniel try to find it.

Look Right Through - M, 20k [Plot Driven, Mystery, Relationships] When Daniel finds a corpse in the house, he isn't sure if it's a prank, a threat... or worse, his own madness rearing its ugly head once more.

Mortal Desires - E, 4.8k [Hormone Use, Smut] They use Fareed's hormones to allow the three of them to have a night of mortal intimacy together.

Armand/Lestat

Subtle Salvation - M, 3.4k [Night Island Era, Angst, Fluff] Lestat is ruminating on his concert and the fall out from it when Armand attempts to pull him out of his malaise.

O Tannenbaum - M, 6.5k [Mild Smut, Court Era, Holiday Fluff] Lestat bets Armand that he can decorate a Christmas tree better than he can 

Stitches - E, 3k [Angst, Humor, Smut] Lestat comes across Armand alone in the Villa, and decides to see what he's up to. He teases him a bit then one thing leads to another…

Sentinel - T, 428 words [Angst] Armand stands in Lestat's dilapidated little house during a storm.

Louis/Lestat

Delicate Desires - E, 3.2k [Rue Royale Era, Angst, Vampire Smut] Lestat is moody on his birthday.

Armand/Louis

A Ghost In Our House - M, 3k [Hurt/Mild Comfort, Angst] Louis is living like a ghost in their shared home. Armand wants to bring back his passion and joie de vivre, but doesn't know how.

General/Other

San Francisco, 1985 - M, 4k [Missing Scene, Angst, Conversations] Before they head to Miami, Armand, Daniel, and Louis visit the little place on Divisadero where it all began

Little Motel - E, 1.6k [Masturbation, Fantasy] Daniel, alone in a motel room, fantasizes about Lestat and then Armand

Necessity - T, 948 - Marius/Pandora [Angst, Humor] Pandora watches Marius get frustrated and leave a council meeting, and follows him out to talk.

The Recruiter - T, 999 - [Angst, Humor, Outsider POV] Thomas, a Talamasca agent, is sent to observe and talk to Daniel Molloy to assess if he might be a good fit for the organization.

Collections

Vamptember Prompts 2022 - Armand/Daniel, Louis/Lestat 13 Short Fics filling prompts

Bites & Bruises - Armand/Daniel, Armand/Lestat, Marius/Daniel, etc. Short fics, drabbles, vignettes that I didn't know where else to post

Shorts/Misc/Tumblr Only

Reassurances - Armand/Daniel Hurt/Comfort Fic

Marius and Daniel Experiment With Novelty Handcuffs

Record and Play - Armand/Daniel Short Fic

*Just a note that I did leave off a few super old fics that don't really reflect how I see the characters anymore. But otherwise this is a pretty complete list.

[deonn-jaelle]

Island of us

word count : 1,700+

warning ‼️: mentions of conception, flash back to the beginning of the conception, descriptions of intimacy but not straight up smut

paring : husband aurelien and wife blackfemale reader

summary : as you enjoy your much needed beacation you can’t keep your secret bundle of joy away from your husband any longer.

The Seychelles sun hung low in the sky, casting shades of amber and gold across the crystalline waters as the gentle breeze kissed your skin. You stood barefoot on the deck of your private villa, a silk robe fluttering around your body as the sounds of the ocean lulled you into a blissful trance. Behind you, the faint shuffle of Aurélien’s movements brought a smile to your lips. Even after four years of marriage, the anticipation of being near him still sent a ripple of warmth through you.

“Taking in the view without me?” His deep voice carried over, laced with playful accusation.

“I am” you teased, turning back to the horizon. “But it’s not nearly as nice as the view inside.”

You glanced over your shoulder, your eyes drawn to the sight of him standing in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun. He looked effortlessly relaxed, his loose linen pants hanging low on his hips, the soft fabric swaying slightly in the gentle ocean breeze. His shirt was unbuttoned, the light material framing the sculpted planes of his chest and the faint sheen of moisture that lingered on his golden skin from a quick rinse in the outdoor shower.

His curls were damp, tousled and glistening, catching the sunlight in a way that made him seem almost ethereal. A few stray droplets clung to his jawline, trailing down the strong column of his neck before disappearing beneath the open folds of his shirt. He held two glasses of chilled passionfruit juice in his hands, the condensation dripping down the sides of the glass and pooling at his fingertips.

The casual ease in his stance made your heart skip a beat. His lips curved into a soft, knowing smile when he noticed you watching him, his dark eyes warm and filled with a quiet kind of affection. He walked toward you with a confidence that was unhurried, his movements fluid and deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world to spend with you.

The light filtered through the palm trees above, casting dappled shadows across his skin, and as he approached, the faint scent of saltwater and his cologne wrapped around you like a comforting embrace.

“I thought you could use this” he said, his voice low and smooth, holding out one of the glasses to you. The coolness of the glass against your fingers was a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from his hand as it lingered briefly against yours.

You smiled, taking the glass and sipping the sweet, tangy juice. “Perfect timing,” you replied, your voice soft, your eyes lingering on his as you felt the familiar flutter of butterflies in your chest.

He leaned against the railing beside you, his gaze drifting out toward the shimmering turquoise water. “This view never gets old” he murmured, but the way his eyes flicked back to you made it clear that he wasn’t just talking about the ocean.

Aurélien chuckled as he approached, his bare feet silent against the wooden deck. “Flattery will get you everywhere by the way, madame.” He handed you a glass and slid an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips brushed the curve of your neck, sending a pleasant shiver through your body. “But you already know that.”

You leaned back into him, savoring the warmth of his skin against yours. “What can I say? I have good taste—in views and in husbands.”

“And I have impeccable taste in wives.” He turned you gently, cupping your face in one hand as he brought his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, unhurried, as if time itself had slowed just for the two of you. The scent of the ocean mingled with the faint citrus of his cologne, wrapping you in an intoxicating cocoon.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his brown eyes shimmering with mischief. “What do you say we skip dinner tonight? Room service and a dip in the pool sound more appealing.”

“Are you suggesting we ignore the five-star restaurant you insisted we book three months ago?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned. “I’m suggesting that we enjoy the one-star experience of me feeding you grapes while we float under the stars. Far more romantic, don’t you think?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I can’t stand you.”

“And yet, here you are still standing in my arms.” He nipped playfully at your lower lip before pulling away, leaving you breathless and more than a little flustered.

The night unfolded just as he suggested, effortlessly romantic and entirely unhurried. Dinner plans were abandoned, replaced by a tray of vibrant fresh fruit—mango, passionfruit, and ripe berries—and decadent desserts delivered directly to your villa. The sweet aroma of caramelized pineapple mingled with the salty breeze drifting in from the ocean, creating a sensory backdrop that felt nothing short of magical.

The infinity pool, shimmering under the glow of soft underwater lights, became your private sanctuary. The water was warm, wrapping around you like a cocoon as you both slipped in, the cool air above only enhancing the inviting heat of the pool. Beyond the pool’s edge, the ocean stretched out endlessly, its rhythmic waves harmonizing with the soft hum of crickets hidden in the lush greenery surrounding the villa.

Aurélien leaned back against the edge of the pool, his arms stretched out, his relaxed posture a picture of ease. His dark eyes glimmered under the faint moonlight as they watched you move through the water, his lips curving into a playful smirk.

“You’re staring” you teased, tilting your head with a knowing smile.

“Can you blame me?” he shot back, his deep voice carrying a warmth that sent a shiver through you despite the heat of the water.

It wasn’t long before his playful side emerged, and he waded toward you with mischief written all over his face. “You’re too relaxed” he teased, his hands slipping to your waist.

“What are you doing?” you asked, narrowing your eyes as he began to lift you slightly out of the water.

“Just helping you enjoy the pool” he replied, laughing as he tried to hoist you over his shoulder.

You let out a shriek, clinging to him for balance as water splashed around you both. “Aurélien, don’t you dare!”

Your stern glare only made his grin wider, but your mock-serious tone eventually gave way to laughter as he loosened his grip, letting you slide back into the water with a dramatic splash. The sound of your giggles echoed into the night, mingling with the soothing symphony of waves in the distance.

When you finally caught your breath, you swam to him, wrapping your arms around his neck in retaliation. “You’re lucky you’re cute” you muttered, pressing a kiss to his jawline, your lips lingering against his warm, wet skin.

“I know” he said with a low chuckle, his hands settling on your hips to pull you closer. His gaze softened, his playfulness fading into something deeper as his thumb traced slow circles against your waist.

The two of you drifted together in the quiet stillness of the pool, the only sounds now the faint lap of water and the occasional crash of waves against the shore. The night felt endless, and for once, there was no need to rush—just the two of you, lost in your own private paradise.

Later, as the moon hung high in the sky, you found yourselves lying on the pool’s edge, your bodies still damp as the night breeze swept over you.

“Do you ever think about how we got here?” you asked softly, tracing a finger along his chest.

“All the time” he replied, his voice low and intimate. “Sometimes I wake up and can’t believe it’s real—that I get to call you my wife, that we built this life together.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I feel the same way. Especially now.”

There was a pause, and you felt his body tense slightly beneath yours. “Especially now?” he repeated, his tone curious.

You pushed yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him. The moonlight illuminated his features, highlighting the slight furrow of his brow and the spark of concern in his eyes. “I wasn’t planning to tell you like this” you began, your voice trembling with emotion. “But… Aurélien, I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you. His dark eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief softening into something deeper as his lips parted, as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, his entire body frozen in place as if his brain was racing to catch up with the reality of what you’d just said.

Then, as the realization began to sink in, his expression transformed. The hesitation melted away, replaced by pure, unfiltered joy that lit up his face like the morning sun breaking through the clouds. His brows lifted, his mouth curved into a slow, disbelieving smile, and his eyes glistened with an emotion so raw it nearly brought fresh tears to your own.

“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice low and trembling with a mix of excitement and awe. He sat up so quickly that he nearly knocked you over, his hands instinctively reaching for yours, gripping them tightly as if anchoring himself to this moment. “You’re not joking, right? Because if you’re joking, I—”

“I’m not joking” you interrupted, your laughter bubbling up through the tears that blurred your vision. “I’m six weeks along. I found out a few days before we left, but I wanted to be sure before I told you.”

His gaze dropped briefly to your stomach, his hands trembling slightly as they moved, almost hesitantly, to rest on your waist. His fingers brushed against you with a tenderness that made your heart ache, his touch reverent as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“You’ve been carrying this secret for days?” he asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. “How—why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I wanted it to be perfect” you admitted, your voice cracking as the weight of your decision hit you. “I wanted us to have this moment—here, where everything feels right.”

His eyes met yours again, a tear slipping down his cheek unnoticed as he pulled you closer, cradling your face in his hands. “Ah my wife is pregnant” he whispered, his voice a mixture of awe and love. “We’re going to be parents.”

Hearing him say it out loud made the reality hit even harder, and you nodded, tears spilling freely now as you both laughed and cried, holding onto each other like the world had just shifted beneath your feet in the best possible way.

Aurélien stared at you, his hands cradling your face as if you were the most precious thing in the world. His gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips, then down to your belly, as if he were trying to process the enormity of your words. “We’re going to have a baby” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “We made a baby. You and me.” The way he said it—awed, almost reverent—made your heart swell. His thumbs brushed gently across your cheeks, and his lips quirked into a crooked, boyish grin. “Mon amour, we really don’t miss, do we?”

“Well” you teased, biting your lip as the blush crept up your neck. “You certainly put in the work.” A quiet laugh bubbled out of you, but it was muffled when Aurélien pulled you into his chest, wrapping you in his strong arms. His embrace was warm and grounding, his heart pounding steadily against your ear as you both soaked in the reality of what was to come. “You should probably be thanking me for being such a good teammate” you added, your tone playful. “I carried a lot of that effort.” He tilted your chin up, his grin widening as he kissed the tip of your nose. “You’re right. You’re the MVP of this team.”

His laugh was deep and full of relief, echoing like a melody in the open night air. “I mean, I distinctly remember how much effort I put into it. What can I say? I’m a man who commits.” His hands moved down to rest lightly on your hips, his fingers drawing slow, lazy circles that sent a tingle up your spine. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he added, “And I don’t just mean on the pitch.” His tone was teasing, but the heated look in his eyes made your pulse quicken. You swatted at his chest, laughing despite yourself.

Your cheeks flushed as memories of that night flooded back. It had been a rainy evening in May, the kind of night where the sound of the downpour against the windows begged for warmth and closeness. The air had been thick with the earthy scent of rain and the seductive notes of his cologne, a combination that lingered in your mind like a favorite song. You had slipped into his oversized soccer jersey, the fabric soft against your skin and far too big, the hem grazing your thighs. He’d smiled when he saw you in it, his eyes flicking over you with a mixture of amusement and unfiltered desire.

Throughout the evening, his gaze had lingered on you, darkening with each subtle shift of your body under the jersey. When he caught you absentmindedly fiddling with the edge of the fabric, the teasing smirk on his lips gave away his thoughts. The tension had simmered between you all day, growing heavier with every stolen glance and casual touch.

By the time you both retreated to the bedroom, the unspoken restraint between you had completely unraveled. The moment the door closed, the atmosphere shifted, the dim light casting shadows across the room as he stepped closer. His hands were on you in an instant, pulling you flush against his chest, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that stole the breath from your lungs.

Nothing else mattered as his hands and lips explored you, his touch igniting a fire that made the rain outside feel like a distant memory. That night, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, you surrendered entirely to him, the sound of the rain blending with the whispered promises that only the two of you could hear.

6 weeks ago~

As Aurélien enters the room, the faint creak of the door announces his presence before his deep, honeyed voice fills the space. “Mon amour” he murmurs, his French accent wrapping around the words like a caress. His mischievous smile widens as his gaze lands on you, lounging in his oversized jersey that just barely skims your thighs. He locks the door behind him with a quiet click, his long-sleeve compression shirt clinging to his chiseled torso and his sweatpants slung low on his hips, teasing you with every step he takes closer.

“You’re staring” you tease, raising a brow as his muscular frame looms over the bed, casting a shadow across your body.

“How can I not?” he counters smoothly, his voice dripping with playful arrogance. “You steal my jersey, take my bed, and still look better in both than I do. It’s unfair, vraiment.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head at his dramatic tone, but your breath catches as he sits on the bed and effortlessly pulls you onto his lap, his strong hands sliding around your waist with an air of possessiveness that makes your skin tingle.

“Baby” he whispers against your neck, his lips brushing your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine. His large hands begin to creep up your thighs, fingers teasing the hem of the jersey. “We need to make a little football player, yes?”

You giggle, nuzzling into his neck and inhaling his musky scent, laced with the faint, earthy notes of the football field. “You’re already planning positions for a baby that doesn’t exist yet?” you tease, letting your fingers trail over his broad chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. “And you’re so sure it’ll be a boy, huh?”

“Of course, yes” he replies, his tone rich with mock confidence as he hooks his fingers under the hem of the jersey, inching it higher to reveal your smooth, dark thighs. His lips hover just inches from yours, his smile downright sinful. “But boy or girl, it doesn’t matter. They will be strong, like their father” he says with a cocky grin before his voice softens “and beautiful, like their mother.”

“You’re something else” you whisper, biting your lip to hide your smile, though the warmth spreading through your chest betrays you.

“It’s only the truth, ma chérie” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your collarbone in soft, deliberate kisses that make your heart race. His hands splay over your stomach, his thumbs brushing the bare skin beneath the jersey as if imagining it round with life. “I can already see it. Our little miracle. Can’t you?”

Your teasing demeanor falters as his words sink in, their sincerity making your breath hitch. “Aurélien” you begin, your voice soft, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“Shh” he whispers, his lips curving into a smile against your skin. “No words. Just us.”

With a gentle but firm motion, he lifts you from his lap, placing you beneath him on the bed. His eyes lock onto yours, a perfect storm of love and desire swirling in their depths. Slowly, reverently, he peels the hoodie over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. His gaze roams over you, lingering on the soft pink of your bralette against your dark skin, and he exhales deeply, as if the sight of you steals his breath.

“I love you so much mon amour. I cant wait for you have our baby” he says softly, his hands running over your bare belly, his touch warm and tender. “My baby’s mama” he adds, his voice thick with both adoration and lust.

Your lips part to respond, but all coherent thought dissolves as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that is slow, deep, and consuming. The world around you fades, leaving only the heat of his body, the strength of his touch, and the unspoken promise of the future you’re about to create together.

back to the present ~

“I think it was that night after your match” you mused, running a hand through his damp curls. “The night you scored that free kick and came home looking for an even bigger win.”

Aurélien grinned, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. “I knew I was on form that night. Guess I should thank my teammates for setting me up so well.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting his chest. “Don’t push your luck, Tchouaméni.”

He caught your hand, bringing it to his lips. “I’m serious, though. I can’t believe this. You’re going to be the most incredible mother.”

“And you’ll be the most amazing father” you replied, your voice soft. “I can already see it.”

For a while, the two of you simply sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms and the magnitude of the moment. The weight of your news settled into something warm and grounding, a quiet assurance that your love had grown into something even bigger than the two of you.

As the night deepened, Aurélien carried you back inside, his strength and tenderness making your heart swell. He laid you gently on the bed, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, filled with the depth of his love for you.

“You know” he murmured against your skin as his hands roamed over your body, “I feel like I should thank Seychelles for this little miracle. Maybe it’s the air here. Or the sunsets. Or the fact that I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”

“Maybe it’s all of the above” you replied, your voice hitching as his lips found the sensitive spot below your ear.

He hummed in agreement, his kisses growing bolder as he trailed them down your neck and across your collarbone. His hands mapped your curves with reverence, lingering on the slight swell of your belly as if he could already feel the life growing within you.

“Aurélien” you whispered, your hands threading through his hair as he continued his exploration of your body. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

“Good” he replied, his voice husky. “Because you’ve been driving me crazy since the moment I met you.”

The night stretched on in a haze of passion and intimacy, the two of you utterly consumed by each other. Every touch felt electric, like rediscovering a familiar map with new terrain to explore, each caress igniting a fire that burned hotter than ever. Aurélien’s hands moved with purpose, his fingers tracing the curves of your body. He lingered at your waist, his palms warm and firm, before settling over the gentle curve of your belly. There, his touch softened, tender, as though he could already feel the faintest heartbeat of the life you were creating together. His lips followed the path of his hands, pressing tender kisses along your skin, trailing from your shoulder to the delicate hollow of your collarbone and down to the swell of your stomach.

Each kiss felt like a vow, his whispered praises in between making your heart ache with love. “My wife, I love you” he murmured against your skin, emphasizing wife, his voice low and thick with emotion. “Perfect. My everything.” His breath fanned over you, sending shivers down your spine, and the way he gazed up at you from where he knelt—eyes filled with awe and devotion—made you feel like the center of the universe.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains, casting a silver sheen over the scene. It illuminated the sweat-slicked planes of his shoulders and the tender curve of your body beneath his touch, painting the moment in an ethereal light that made every movement between you feel sacred. Time seemed to stand still, the outside world fading as you and Aurélien became completely entwined—body, mind, and soul.

By the time the first rays of dawn began to filter through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues of pink and gold, you lay tangled in each other’s arms, the warmth of his body a comforting shield against the morning chill. Your bodies were sated, a pleasant ache lingering in your limbs as a reminder of the night’s passion, while your hearts felt impossibly full—overflowing with love, joy, and the quiet anticipation of what was to come. Aurélien’s strong arms enveloped you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go, his breath slow and steady against your hair. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, the tender gesture carrying an unspoken promise of devotion. His fingers moved in lazy, absentminded patterns on your back, tracing invisible shapes that sent a soothing warmth through you. Occasionally, his touch would pause, his fingertips pressing lightly against your skin as if savoring the connection, before continuing their gentle path. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the ocean in the distance, the serenity of the moment cocooning you both in a world where nothing else mattered but the two of you—and the tiny life growing inside you.

“Thank you” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?” you asked, your eyes heavy with sleep.

“For being my everything,” he replied, his lips curving into a smile. “And for making me the happiest man in the world.”

As you drifted off in his arms, your head resting against the steady rise and fall of his chest, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of peace. His warmth enveloped you, his heartbeat a soothing rhythm that seemed to sync perfectly with your own. The faint scent of his skin—a mix of salt, his cologne, and something uniquely him—wrapped around you like a lullaby, anchoring you to this perfect moment. You closed your eyes, letting the weight of his embrace and the soft whispers of the ocean beyond the villa lull you into a dreamy haze. A smile played on your lips as a singular thought nestled in your mind: no matter where life took you, no matter the challenges or changes ahead, as long as you had Aurélien by your side, you’d always have your own little paradise. Not just in Seychelles, but in every touch, every look, and every moment you shared with the man who was your home.

note: i really loved writing this one. i live for a lover boy, soft aurelien fic but there aren’t too many so i figured i would just write one myself :) tell me what you think!!

[red-moon-at-night]

Etruscan or Faliscan Red Figure Stamnos, attributed to the Painter of the Oxford Ganymede, Classical Period, 400–350 B.C.

Descriptions below taken from MFA Boston:

Side A: Polydeukes is binding Amykos to a tree trunk in front of a fountain, which consists of a stream flowing from the center of a flower into a tub. A plant, a folded cloak, and an alabastron are represented on the ground below. Polydeukes braces himself with one knee against the tree to draw tight the bindings, which themselves consist of young saplings. Like Amykos, he is infibulated and wears leather boxing thongs.

Amykos, king of the savage Bebrykes of Bithynia compelled all strangers to box with him, otherwise denying them drink from the spring. Polydeukes, a skilled boxer, overcame him and punished his hubris by binding him. Except for the fountain, the composition of side A is very close to that on the bronze Ficoroni Cista in the Villa Giulia; the postures of the figures are nearly identical, and the cloak and alabastron are present at the base of the tree.

Side B: Hermes, Polydeukes, and a satyr old and fat enough to be called Silenos are shown in a scene possibly inspired by a satyr play. Hermes stands at the left, his right leg propped on the tendril of an adjacent palmette. He wears high-laced sandals and a winged helmet and carries his caduceus in his left hand. He looks back to the right at Polydeukes, who stands looking at the egg in his left hand that contains his sister Helen. In his other hand is a mattock, with which he will crack open the egg. Approaching from the right is Silenos, wearing shoes and carrying a situla in his right hand and a phiale in his left.

The subject of side B may be unique. Beazley listed two vases and eight mirrors representing either Hermes or Polydeukes delivering the egg of Helen to Leda or Tyndareos or both (EVP, pp. 115-116). Both the god and the hero are present on this vase, but Silenos is a poor substitute for either of the two recipients. Beazley suggested that Polydeukes has just discovered the egg while loosening the soil in the palestra with his mattock, a preparation for exercising on the hard ground (EVP, p. 60). The egg had been hidden there by Hermes, which explains his presence. Silenos comes up with a bucket of water to wash the egg (or perhaps hoping to boil it!). The presence of Silenos suggests the influence of satyric drama; compare the phlyax actor on an Apulian bell-krater, who cracks open Helen's egg with an axe (Bari 3899: RVAp. I, p. 148, no. 96; LIMC, IV, pl. 291,Helene 5) According to Horace, Polydeukes and his brother Kastor were also born from an egg (Sat,2,1,26). Evidence that this story was known early enough to be parodied by an Apulian vase-painter of the mid-fourth century may be provided by an unpublished Gnathian bell-krater recently in the New York art market, with an actor in female guise watching an egg on an altar give birth to an erect phallus.

[theyungihven]

Truth Or Dare ⁉️ ⁕ Hongjoong

HALLOWEEN EVENT

☆ pairing: hongjoong as Dracula x Human? Reader

☆ genre: mystery, fantasy, horror,

☆ warnings: mentions of blood, sacrifice, vampires and ghosts

☆ word count: 2.1k+

☆ synopsis : You and your friends dare to spend a night at the infamous Dracula's Castle but things go astray as one by one everyone goes missing and you come across the man rumoured to be Dracula.

“You gotta do this!” You hear your friends yell or more like discuss something in the secret hideout. 

The hideout is an abandoned laboratory where you sometimes work on illegal stuff. The discussions take place every day here where everyone in your friend group (it's just 2 people) gather to share about the current news (conspiracy theories) and rumours they heard around the town while you are busy building your prototype.

“Bro, I don't wanna die too early. First, fucking global warming, now this shit? Nah I'm out!” Claire shouts as she bangs the old lunch table discarded in the room. Well that's Claire, one of you two friends, being herself. You smile at her humour which strangely manages to entertain you.

“But they offered a reward of 250 grand, if we spend a night there and return alive.” You listen keenly to Kevin who explains the plan before you to decide to jump into their conversation. He's obviously got a strategy if he's pitching the idea, doesn't he? He has to!

“Alive? The fuck is going on there?” Claire yells  in terror as it laces her body manifesting itself in her tone which shivers and shrieks.

“Rumour says, it's Dracula, who was sleeping till last month in the villa.” Kevin whispers loudly as if he intended you to hear on their spill the tea session.

“Which shithead woke him up, for fuckssake?” Claire huffs and pushes back her chair. You hear the screeching of the rusty metal and make a note to check their safety because you don't want anyone to break their bones from falling off that thing.

“Someone from med school. They're missing apparently.” Kevin slurs his sentence as if he's making things up or masking up the important details. Cheeky little Bastard who's always up to something. Probably some anatomy geek must have gotten all curious to see Dracula in the flesh and fainted in there or lost his way.

“And now, we're going there to feed him?" Claire shrieks, whose voice sounds like a scared five year old upon seeing a clown which she is to be honest.

“No, obviously! To show whoever is hiding in there, that they cannot hide for long.” Kevin's sentence catches your attention and you think whether to join them or wait and hear more. Of course, you choose the latter.

“So... we're going to expose them?”Claire asks excitedly as if in hopes of going on a ghost hunting mission. They are her time passing activities and the ghost files is her favourite show. “What if it's a cannibal or serial killer?”

“Can you speak positively for once, Claire?” Kevin shrugs, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Sorry.” Claire says softly and the conversation stills, creating an awkward silence in the room. 

You finally decide to interrupt as you pull your chair to their table and make yourself comfortable on it. “So, what's the plan?” You say, chewing the strawberry flavoured gum and reading the expressions on their faces.

“See who finally decided to pay attention?” Kevin mocks you and you roll your eyes at his statement. 

“Does the area have connectivity? Comms? Anything?” You ask him, because he certainly has some information on this if he's even mentioning the topic but he has a tendency to hide things till after the disaster is done.

“Nope everything's dead. There's a strong magnetic field apparently…” He trails on his words, again and clicks his tongue.

“What in the Stranger Things?” Claire wonders with her mouth hanging open. 

“Shut up Claire! You’re watching too much science fiction.” Kevin yells at her, sending a stern glare at Claire who turns her head down with a frown on her lips.

“We gotta do it the pirate way.” you suggest calmly, leaning back on the chair and folding your arms.

“Pirates?” Claire asks, raising her eyebrow and leaning forward with enthusiasm.

“I forgot you had pirate blood for a minute.” adds Kevin and Claire acknowledges the fact with ahh. 

“So, if we don't have comms, drones and walkies aren't gonna work. We gotta get flares and some type of marker to make a path for entry and exits.” You say looking at the table and your friends exchange looks.

“A blueprint of the place!” Claire exclaims as if she has figured out the answers to one of the world's unsolvable riddles.

“It's not your fucking aunts house!” Kevin says loudly, giving Claire the ‘I'll murder you’ eyes.

“Yeah he's right. But the villa is not that big to get lost.” You mumble, moving forward and setting your arms on the table. 

“How do you know that?” Kevin gives you the sceptical look as if you're a notorious criminal with disgusting crimes.

“It was once our family property, that was a long time tho. Some feud happened and we lost it.” You confess and their faces have the funniest expression you've ever seen. Confused, surprised and wtf?

“You have a map?” Kevin yells in your ear and you retort meters away, squeezing your eyes close  due to the pain.

“Kinda, it's a tracing, rather than a map.” you say, rubbing your ear and a flicker of hope lights up on Kevin's face. 

“Atleast, we have something.” Claire mumbles as she shares a smile.

“Be at my house at 7, we'll discuss stuff there. That's it for now.”

***

“Listen, the Manor has two exits.” You explain, spreading out the old one dimensional tracing of the Manor and its illustrations.

“Didn't you say it was a villa?” Claire says, setting her hands on her waist as she stares at the floor plan.

“Can we kick her out?” Kevin suggests and the idea doesn't sound bad considering her level headed ass. 

“It's dangerously close to Yes, but what if I get bored? We'll need her.” You trail, spreading out the second floor plan of the Manor.

“Fair. So, Claire, just shut your mouth and listen. No speaking over someone.” Kevin says and shushes Claire who pouts, giving him the puppy eyes.

“Okay so the first exit is at the front, obviously for the people and the second is at the back for the goods.” You say with your finger tracing the main gate of the Manor and then the back gate. 

“Ohhhhhh!” Claire coos, and Kevin giggles at her reaction while he gets ready to smack her on head.

“Yeah. Shut your mouth before a fly lands in there. Anyways, moving on!” You say, thinking about your next sentence and Claire slaps her hand to her mouth. 

“Are we dividing up and going from two exits?” Kevin asks, and you look up at him, eyes diverting themselves from the map and landing on his face.

“Yes, you read my mind. You two will go from the front door to distract whatever is in there and I'll go with someone else from the back.”

“Is this someone else, late to the meeting?”

“Hey there!” A voice says and it is followed by the garage door smashing open with a thud, “Sorry I had soccer practice.” Yunho, your arch nemesis on friendly terms, says and shares an awkward smile.

“This is my neighbour, yunho.” You introduce him and drag him by his arm to make his tall ass body stand next to yours.

“Hello, very nice to meet you.” He waves at your friends with a bright smile and Claire gives him heart eyes at which you cringe. 

“You both are polar opposites!” Kevin comments and you feel heating rising on your cheeks.

“We get that a lot!” You and Yunho say at the same time only to meet each other's eyes the next second and shy away. 

“What did I miss?” Yunho says after clearing his throat as he glances in your direction. His golden blond hair falls over eyes and you observe the way his gaze flickers from your face and back to map.

“Whatever I said to you, last night.” You say, finding something to stare at besides his brooding figure.

“Okay then, I'm saved I guess!” Yunho says as he nervously chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“The next phase of the plan is when I signal you, we move to the first floor. The highest is the second floor which has a library in the attic.” You say and it excites something in Yunho judging by the creepy smirk on his lips.

“Attics scare me!” Claire says, her voice shrieking with fear of the darkness.

“What doesn't scare you Claire?” Kevin says in a monotone as he turns his head in her direction.

“Him!” Claire points in Yunho's direction at which you can't help but sigh.

“Flirt somewhere else, lovebirds. We got shit to do.” You roll your eyes then go back to thinking about what to say next.

“How are you going to communicate?” Yunho asks, giving you his starry puppy eyes and you can't help but gulp nervously. What is he even trying to do?

“Well, I have a perfect device for that.” You say, distracting yourself from the tall and beautiful blonde beside you with a bright ass smile.

“Where?” Claire asks as if she's looking for something and fails to find it.

“Our friendship bracelets. They work with a higher bandwidth of 7GHz.” You say, pointing at the bracelet on Claire's wrist.

“7g WiFi?” Claire exclaims and you hear an audible sigh from Kevin, at which Yunho giggles and earns a glare.

“Yeah kinda like that.....i guess.” you mumble under your breath.

“Yunho doesn't have one, though?” Someone asks while your mind pulls you in a trance and you start to zone out.

“He does.” You say, almost mumbles as you start to slip into the fever dream.

“He DOES?”  They yell. 

AT THE MANOR

“You know what to do. On the signal, disperse. It's two taps, distinct and repeating 3 times. If anything goes down, the distress signal is continuous tapping. Light the flare ONLY if its a fucking emergency, and if we need to abort the mission.” You yell as low as possible while they listen to you attentively. 

“Yes sir!” Everyone shouts, tightening the strap of their backpack of supplies.

“Remember to mark your way up to the second floor. People get lost there.” You say and everyone exchanges confused looks. “It's a spell.” You remind them and they nod their heads. “Now, go. Meet you at the library!”

According to the plan, you and Yunho go through the back gate while Claire and Kevin from the front gate. The sound of the rusted iron screeching when Kevin pushes the gate echoes around the Manor and you curse under your breath. 

The way up to the first floor had been easy, then after the signal from the other team gave clearance, you decided to head to the second floor alone bidding Yunho a goodbye. It had been strange for a while, walking down the eerie, empty hallway with the feeling of something watching you the whole time. 

You stand in the middle of the never ending hallway, a ghostly whisper greets your ear and sends shivers down your spine. 

What in the fucking hell?? 

There's a ghostly touch on your arm, ice cold as it traces its finger down your warm skin. When you turn to face the monster, there's no one behind you. Then you feel it, a looming shadow over your shoulder but when you turn again, it's gone. 

So, you walk on because standing still is more dangerous. You choose to run when you see a pale face in the middle of the corridor grinning wildly at you which sends terror down your body. Your heart beats at an amazing speed as your breath shortens, adrenaline running through your body which initiates the flight mechanism because there is no way you're dealing with that demonic thing in this haunted mansion. 

“I've been searching for you for so long.” A voice echoes in the hallway or is it your brain playing tricks on you. Luckily you find the stairway leading to the second floor and run towards it but things take a turn when you realise, it is a trap. 

“I thought you were a smart girl.” The sinister voice echoes in your mind again as you walk away from the door that shut itself only to bump into something hard. Turning around you come to see the very pale face you had seen in the hallway but very clearly now. 

The man stands in front of you in his full glory, the navy uniform and wounds from the battle still decorating his lifeless body. “You traitor!” You feel a sharp pain in your chest and you look down to see a dagger pressed to your heart. “You'll repay the blood we shed that night, you vampire.” Everything goes black when he twists the knife and the last thing you see is a scared yunho trying to save you.

[farmerlesbian]

Hi! Leather anon back again. I would absolutely love the shop list, Mod Alfalfa, if you have the time! Thank you all for helping out a (wannabe) leather dyke here, I probably won't have the time and money to really get into the subculture for at least another year but in the meantime... I can look!

Hi sorry finally getting around to this! Been busy!

First, I'll give the caveat that I have not purchased from any of these shops so can't vouch for them. One exception, I do have the Camryn harness from Switch Leather co. which I like and would recommend! I like that it's custom sized so I could get it with long enough adjustable straps so it can be cinched to fit both me and my partner, I also liked that it was relatively locally made by hand and is made with real leather so it'll wear nicely and last a long time if I care for it.

Okay let's get to the list of links! These are various styles and aesthetics, things they specialize in, materials, locations, price points, types of kink and bdsm. These are in no particular order at all. As I went through my bookmarks and saves I made sure to stay focused on leather shops specifically, so this list is not including models or influencers/popular people, publications like zines or blogs, photographers or artists, kink things of other adjacent varieties, sex toys, or other assorted things like that. Hard to limit it but I have to keep this list focused! Shop around see what you like. Reblog and add your recommendations or thoughts!

Switch Leather Co. / Instagram (I have the Camryn harness)

Nocturne Leather / Instagram

Riverqueer Leatherwork / Instagram

Fruit Leather Fetish / Instagram

Leather Coven / Instagram

Kolby Brianne / Instagram

Relena's Vegan Bondage / Instagram

Boundaries Leather / Etsy / Instagram

BDSFemme Leather Instagram

Little Death Leather Instagram / Kofi

Theirs + Theirs / Instagram

Emma Alamo / Instagram

Transform Leather Co. / Instagram

Daddy's Leather Shop / Instagram

Ocelotl's Trade / Instagram

Leather Archives Instagram - not a shop but nice to follow

Black Bone Co / Instagram

Ryce NYC / Instagram

Doghouse Leathers / Instagram / Craftingroom Instagram

Current Lace and Leather Instagram (I have a hanging plant holder! It's super cute)

Shop Tina Villa / Instagram

Lupine Leather Co. / Instagram

Yama Craft Space / Instagram

Fleet Ilya / Instagram

Toxic Vision / Instagram

Agate Leather / Instagram

Creepy Yeha / Instagram

Cassandra Von Creep / Instagram

Spill Adornment / Instagram

Peg n Pedal / Instagram - not leather, but repurposed bicycle tubes

Rodeoh / Instagram - not leather, but fabric harnesses

Leather Dyke Club / Instagram

Gnat / Instagram

Leonard Condemine Instagram

Church Leather Instagram

Love Lorn Lingerie / Instagram

Dewy thee occult Instagram - not seeing a way to purchase but felt worth including

Manmade Skins / Instagram

Naassene Leathers / Instagram

Cabbage Cottage / Instagram

Activest Project / Instagram - not leather, but polypro webbing straps

Devil's Remains / Instagram

Pansy Leatherwork / Instagram / @thyfleshc0nsumed

Also, all this said, don't be afraid to buy a hide or some vintage leather items and work with it yourself! You could get an old bag and rip the seams out and use the leather for something new, or find an old jacket and turn it into a vest and add spikes, or get a hide and have a collars and floggers making craft party with your friends!

[chic-a-gigot]

L'Art et la mode, no. 33, vol. 15, 18 août 1894, Paris. La journée une élégante. Dessin de F. Fournery. Bibliothèque nationale de France

Pour faire un tour le long des grèves, avant dîner, elle tient à être particulièrement élégante, et la voici dans une robe forme Empire, en soie Liberty, vieux rose ou vert-Nil à dessins crème. Des valenciennes et des nœuds de satin noir relèvent la tonalité pâle de l'ensemble. Le chapeau, un très gros paillasson, porte au centre un nœud assorti à l'étoffe de la robe.

To take a stroll along the shores before dinner, she wants to be particularly elegant, and here she is in an Empire-shaped dress, in Liberty silk, old pink or Nile green with cream patterns. Valenciennes and black satin bows enhance the pale tone of the ensemble. The hat, a very large doormat, has a bow in the center matching the fabric of the dress.

—

Veut-elle faire une apparition le soir au Casino, ou bien faire un tour de valse dans quelque villa voisine, elle revêt une robe de soie crème à raies inégales semée d'arabesques mauves. De très fines guipures forment la berthe. Gants blancs très longs, plaquant sur les bras, et ceinture de satin noir cerclant la taille gracieuse et souple.

If she wants to make an appearance in the evening at the Casino, or to take a waltz in some neighboring villa, she puts on a cream silk dress with uneven stripes sown with mauve arabesques. Very fine guipure lace forms the berthe. Very long white gloves, flat on the arms, and a black satin belt encircling the graceful and supple waist.

[leclsrc]

for ur 3k i just want to see an omitted scene from its never over pleaseeeee <3333

i need more childhood friends to lovers w charles 🥺🥺 angsty fluffy childhood friends for the 3k please 😩😋

say it all – cl16

You bid farewell to a myriad of memories, rolled into the most memorable summer of your teenage life. (was originally part of this, can stand alone just fine)

auds here... features snoopy and childhood friend!charles again :)

You run the stretch of sand to the dock from the villa, a downhill sprint that requires stamina and laughter and constantly ends with you crashing into Charles, legs wrapping around his waist as you both flop with a thud onto the sand. It happens again now, his hands wrapped around your waist, your dress tickling the top of your thighs as you fall and laugh.

You get up on your elbows, watching him sweep sand out of his eyes. “Did you close the villa window?” Both your parents are still at dinner, so you’re both in charge of making sure nobody gets burgled or whatever.

“Yeah.” He pauses, smiling up at you, his eyes light and so green. “But it doesn’t close all the way.”

You hum in agreement. “The wind always gets in.”

Your tolerance is so bad you’re loopy from one drink, and it’d been cut with juice, even. Your hair’s littered with fine sand when you get up, hauling Charles with you as you make the slow walk to the dock for the last time. Ever since he told you he’d be in Spain for karting next year, you’d anticipated the grief over your summers in Villefranche, knowing that in time, they’d grow more and more intermittent, happening less and less—

Before you know it, you’re weeping with it. You’ll miss it. You’ll miss all of it. All of him. All of Charles. There’s always been a window for you two, something there, something unnamed. But next summer it won’t be there, and that’s what you grieve.

“We can always come back,” he says, nudging your foot with his, both half-submerged in the cold dusk water. You laugh, wiping tears away messily, leaning on his shoulder. It’s grown more sturdy with how often he’s driving, no longer lanky and “noodle-y”, as you’d joked once. It’s safe, secure. But then again, you think—it’s always been.

“I know we can,” you sniffle, staring at the blue below. Of course you can. One day you’ll be old enough to drive yourselves up to the villa, old enough to be trusted with the keys (never you), or the parking (never Charles), old enough to join the clubs with IDs that aren’t doctored. By then you might find the dress you’re wearing tacky, and Charles might be a Red Bull driver already. 

But the summers before and the summers to follow won’t be this summer. They will never be this summer. The summer of sandy toes and being old enough to have an aperol with a smidge of alcohol, the summer of beach-crunched hair, hot sun and cool evenings where you’re satiated by pasta.

The same summer you found drunk Charles is sleepy Charles, an epiphany that arrived when you saw his tanned skin against the white of your duvet, eyes fluttered closed. He wouldn’t budge if you or Hervé tried pulling him off, but he moved enough to let you sleep beside him.

The summer you tried getting him to stop calling you Snoopy, because it was too childish for you, but he’d say goodnight Snoopy before bed every night without fail. The summer you dove off a cliff a few hours away and watched as Charles chickened out from below. The summer of your first cigarette, ashes flicked into the bushes by the villa at two-thirty in the morning. The summer that started with your first heartbreak. The summer that ends with another.

Gingerly, you lace your hand in his. It’s normal, but in your head it means something else. You play out the fantasy that he’s yours, if just for a minute. This will always be the summer you spent being seventeen and feeling old enough to be loving your best friend, but young enough that you wouldn’t tell a soul.

“Any plans for the fall?” You ask, shutting the window.

“I’ll drop you off at uni,” he says. It doesn’t close all the way.