#she is very whITE her hair/skin/feathers are all white

[tangledinink]

ODETTES A CHILD?!??!!! :0

[dosshie]

my mom, that studied african religion for more than a decade and is part of umbanda, live reaction to ororon and iansan:

"I don't care if you make them white with blue eyes, at least study the gods you're basing them from!!!!"

im too afraid of twitter so imma post this here, but for short: the skin color is not the only problem! lol

i asked my mom who is very knowledgeable of the religion for her opinions and this is what we talked!! please don't take this post as an flawless analysis, you should also hear the opinions of people from umbanda, candomblé, and specially from nigeria. i'm mainly doing this because this religion barely gets any representation at all, so this will be the first time many people will be introduced to this culture and while i'm happy that it's included in a game that i play, it's important to recognize its shortcomings, anyway enough rambling!

for iansan, her character is based on iansã, the orixá (deity/god) of the winds and storms, she is seen as a warrior and is associated with the color red

she said that they easily could've given her buffalo horns on her mask, since iansã's animal is the buffalo (tho i know some people may think this is insensitive since yknow, giving one of the few dark-skinned charactes an animal skull doesn't look very good), the other thing she said is that they could've given her some braids in her hair, because in history thats what iansã and her army used to wear when they were going in combat (which was like, VERY on point??? i didnt tell her natlan was the nation of war beforehand)

other than that she didn't gave much imput, probably because her design does look like someone who fights

now, as for ororon... he is based on olorum, the orixá closest to a god/creator, and is commonly associated with...... the color white..... and one of his visual features is his staff

she said that they could've easily given him light hair/eyes, for her ororon doesn't seem to resemble olorum in the slightest, i also asked jokingly what she thought about him being a wolfboy and she said that it was fine lol

she asked me what power (vision/weapon) they gave to him and i said that i didn't know, but from the leaks they said that he's a bow character, and she immediately said that they made logunedé, in her words: "HE'S A HUNTER AND HE LOOKS A BIT SISSY, IT'S LOGUMEDÉ!"

logumedé is the son of the orixás oxóssi and oxum, he is a hunter like his father and takes care of his looks like his mother* (that's why she called him sissy LOL), his weapon is the bow, his colors are blue and yellow and he's associated with the animal peacock, which was what made my mom make that connection, ororon's scarf reminded her a lot of a peacock feather

*the word used here is vaidoso but... that doesn't exist in english lmao?? the closest we have is "vain" but vain is much more akin to superficial, which is not a synonymous of vaidoso, so yeah, weird translation quirk here, vaidoso means that you care of yourself/your looks because they are important to you

erhmmm anyway 1 like and i'll redesign them based on the actual orixás (/hj i still have artfight attacks to finish lmao)

[deadbeat-motel]

ᐯᗩGGIE ᗩᑎᗪ ᑕᕼᗩᖇᒪIE ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ

These two are simpler than the angel dust design I did since I didn't have a lot to go off of. Posted on Valentine's Day because yes I can.

I don't think Charlie is significantly different from her Pilot design because I genuinely think it was the best design from the cast (before the redesign).

Thoughts below, though TW for the creepy charlie image at the end:

My issues with their Original designs:

Vaggie:

The giant "X" over her eye is really distracting and even world-breaking because

1. Why had no one put 2 and 2 together that the only character in Hell who has a visible 'X' mark on her face might be related to the angels who also sport that X mark on their faces.

2. Why is it shaped like an X? Her eye was taken out via a single slash.

3. If the hair's purpose was to cover it, why would it show through it? What's the point of the hair then?

The hair that was supposed to cover that wounded eye looked so ugly and confused as to what it should be doing. I mean every shot that showed that thing in a sideview shot of Vaggie felt like the animators had to make their own guesses as to how that was supposed to look like. It was distracting for me personally and I hated it so much.

It's been said over and over again, but her clothes look like she works at McDonalds. I get needing to change her outfit so that she looks like she works at the hotel, but it's just been poorly designed.

Why change her clothes' colors from white to red? the white helped her stand out from Hell and the Hotel's majority red background. (In the finale, she at least has a non-red attire)

She's also one of the very few women in HH and she falls under the skinny stick side of it despite being an angel exterminator.

Her hair is kind of hard to visualize looking at in any way other than what it is when it's static. However, when it changed into a ponytail or a bob, it's actually really nice to look at.

Unsure of what that bow's purpose is for the design.

Charlie:

Charlie is a simple but very confused design. The pilot design was a lot more coherent than the current show design

It's disappointing to see the bouncy Pilot hair go and be replaced by that boring bubble braid of all things.

Her undershirt peaks out of her tuxedo.... why???? to separate the top jacket and the pants? You wouldn't need to do that if her pants were a different color like the pilot design.

Thought about it and was confused, as a demon with an angelic father, why didn't she have wings as well? She didn't need the 6 wings like Lucifer but maybe a pair of one would appear?

Out of all the characters for the show's redesign, Her's was by far the MOST infuriating to me. Her pilot design wasn't perfect but it was good, they had to downgrade her for some reason.

I didn't have much to say about Charlie. it basically sums up to "the Pilot design was better".

On to the thought process for these two:

Valerie the fallen:

Yes, she got a rename. Sue me.

I had to remove the moth aspect of her design because it doesn't seem like it makes sense for a heaven-born to follow the sinner's rule of "gaining features based on the life you lived" since she basically never lived right?

In this redesign (and eventual rewrite), Valerie is not ashamed of her exterminator background. In fact, she was known as the most recent "fallen" in hell. her short stature doesn't make her less of a threat to the demons.

She's also visually thick with muscle because why not let one of the show's women have a body type that isn't stick-thin?

She's using the wings that were torn off of her as both an interesting article of clothing and as a way to remind others and her that she is (or more accurately 'was') an angel who could kill them if she wanted to.

Her clothes are pure black underneath the pale feathers to show that while she is an "angel", deep down, she is far from a good person.

She's also getting an actual skin color because from what I gathered myself from the show's heaven. Most of the souls there still retain a human appearance (Adam, Lute, St. Peter, and the other random human angels up there still look human..... but just don't mind the fact that most of them are white.)

Her hair is that ponytail she had in the finale because as much as I didn't like that episode, some designs looked actually decent.

Also, her hair actually covers the eye scar properly.

I wanted to keep her ribbon as a splash of brightness on her design but the OG ribbon looks a little out of place on a warrior so It became that (Plus it pays homage to her OG moth influence with its shape looking like the fluffy antennas of the moth)

Gave the spearhead a little bit of detail on it plus a chipped side so that it has a bit of charm as an old weapon she still decides to keep around.

A note about Valerie's design is that I haven't tackled the armor of angels yet so I was unsure of what pieces of the undesigned armor to give Valerie as of now.

Charlie:

I honestly actually enjoyed her Pilot hair, so I tried to put it back and also simplify it a bit so there are not a lot of strands for me to keep track of. Plus it was a genuinely cute design for her. (There's a reason that version was used in the Verbalase video.) <- I'M JOKING

Replaced her button nose with a goat's because a friend has commented how it looked like the noses of the women in a Goofy Movie and I will never be able to unsee that.

Her hair is also a lot brighter compared to her washed-out blonde color.

She has the same design thought process as Valerie, Covering the darkness of her true nature with white fluffy fur which is stylized like feathers at its ends. She has pitch-black skin underneath and looks like a proper nightmarish demon like the image below.

I ditched the tuxedo look, since almost all the cast has a similar outfit already, and gave her a jumpersuit instead. (Idk what it's really called but that's what I think it is). It's a light grey because she's a mix of bad and good (though a bright grey because she prefers to be on the good side)

Her horns are there and visible because yeah it's cute but also helps her read as the half-angel/half-demon character she is.

Tiny goat tail because can you imagine every time Valerie holds the rare angel smile of approval, her tail is visibly wagging in glee and excitement???? My heart would die. I love these lesbians with my life.

Has wings from her father.

Anyways, those are my thoughts and redesigns... I wanted to add more details to them but I didn't really know what to add that didn't feel unnecessary.

Also bonus! Concept art of Charlie's true form:

[queenie-the-court-jester]

where the birds and fish gather

A/n: my silly fish and bird hybrids! Few sexual references but mdni! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ASK ABOUT ANY OF THEM I'M DESOERATE FOR ASKS- ignore my grammar haha

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- ︶︶︶︶༉‧ ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- ︶︶︶︶༉‧

★ sydney the cockatoo

sydney's the most mischievous bastard out of all of them. Your watch is missing? In his nest. Your necklace? His nest aswell. Your hat? He's wearing it. You're never getting it back. He sees something shiny, it's in his little claws. Like all the avian hybrids, his arms are wings and he's covered in feathers. Having a human face with little beak like lips. His legs are bird legs. Black eyes staring at you from his nest in a tree. Be careful where you step after any surprise snow in's. He's probably burying himself in it. 5'4

★ Evangeline the peahen

The elegant, sophisticated, coy, angelic Evangeline. Gabriel's mate but she despises his guts, similar to princess, she much prefers you. Often dragging you to their nest and squabbling with Gabriel when he tried taking you away. She may not be as pretty as he is outside, but she certainly is Inside. Proudly showing off her brown little feathers. 5'6 brown straight hair, black eyes and a little pale

★ gabriel the white peacock

Egotistical bastard. He hates his wife for being so ugly, but he does think you are extraordinarily beautiful. He could definitely envision putting his clutch inside you. He'll figure a way out, don't you worry! An albino peacock male with red eyes, white feathers and extremely pale. 5'7

★ fajarah the ring necked parakeet

she's sydney's little partner in crime, but lately she's mellowed out more. Now preferring to watch the koi mers swim around and munch on some chips she stole from the main house. Tilting her head curiously at something she finds interesting. Bright green feathers and hair, black eyes and tan skin. 5'2

★ foolish the owl finch

often seen in the fields with the cows and bulls, he's quiet and prefers to watch. Hopping around quickly and pecking things that catch his eye. There's not much to say about him since he keeps to himself alot, but he does seem to like the biscuits you bring for him.

★ simon the tyto alba

Simon is deaf and mute, having been found wandering around the farm as a little chick. Now the farmers are looking for any way to help him with his hearing long term, but he seems to have adjusted to looking for any vibrations on the ground. Pale and white hair,black eyes, very pointy beak like lips

★ the koimer quintuplets

There's nothing much different between the quintuplets except their different patterns. Just that tancho is the leader and more mature, Kiko is more curious and childish, Hime is sweet and reserved, tsu is a chatterbox and humble, koromo is loud and nosy

★ mason the "lake monster" (crocodile)

Mason is like an older brother figure for the quintuplets, teaching them Little bits of English and watching you interact with them from the depths of the lake or hidden behind some underwater trees in the lake. You may not always see him, but he's always there. Silently watching. Messy grungy hair, green eyes, and has a light tan. 6'4

[flowerofbenevolence]

Queen Maleficia Draconia Headcanons

TW: I have not read CH 7 yet, so this may be inaccurate and will be edited in the future!

"So you are the human that my grandson keeps telling me about."

Appearance:

She is envisioned to be extremely and timelessly beautiful, but also old-looking, like an older version of Maleanor. Like her daughter and grandson, she has dark midnight bluish-black hair, except it is slightly greying, or having grey streaks and is usually tied up into a bun. She also has yellowish-green eyes comparable to that of peridots, with long eyelashes and a few wrinkles beneath her eyes. she also has alabaster moonlight white skin, and of course, the famous, elegant, S-shaped horns that dragons and dragon-fairies are known for. Her attire would typically consist of the silver crown of the reigning monarch of Briar Valley, and long, black robes with green and silver accents as well as jewel and feather details.

Personality:

At first glance, Queen Maleficia seems to be cold-hearted, stern, and regal to the point of approachableness. But underneath that is actually a strong-hearted and passionate queen who loves her kingdom and people dearly, loved her daughter greatly, and is affectionate yet protective and strict towards her grandson. For that reason, many of her subjects praise her for her vast wisdom, knowledge, nobility, and being an amazing ruler. Humans, however, both fear and loathe her for her dark, cold aura and tend to take her inspiration for the villains of fairytales.

Background:

Long before the Human-Fae War started, Queen Maleficia actually had a human lover whom she loved very deeply, and promised to make him her king consort, regardless of how weak he was as a human and how short his lifespan was. However, much to her heartbreak, her human lover left her for a human princess, believing her to be much more beautiful, according to human beauty standards, and being much more "kind, graceful, and benevolent", which really meant her preferred softer, timider, and more insecure girls who suited his ego. Maleficia, following her draconic instincts (which many of us had assumed meant being jealous, possessive, and "hoarding their treasure"), was enraged, but kept her composure, knowing she had an image to maintain, being royalty and all, and tried to reason with him instead. She tried to tell him that beauty, especially human beauty doesn't last forever, and that she was the only one who would love him despite that and how his new human girlfriend's beauty would eventually fade. She also tried to tell him about how he would need someone wise like her to point out his flaws and faults and advise him so that he would be able to learn and grow as a person. When he got angry and continued to insist on leaving her, Maleficia finally snapped and decided her little human boyfriend needed a "punishment". She kidnapped his royal human bride and demanded ransom while torturing her. In the eyes of the fae, this was seen as acceptable, since fairies seek long-term relationships, strongly value loyalty, and believe that it is right to seek revenge when cheated on. Humans, on the other hand, were outraged, since they are more easily prone to cheating, being unfaithful to their spouses, but also moving on, and believed that Maleficia should be doing exactly just that instead of being a "jealous monster". As a result, Maleficia became the inspiration for numerous villainesses and witches in fairytales about "a princess who falls in love with a prince, but is hunted by a witch who is jealous of her relationship with the prince". Green also became a color associated with jealousy and envy since she often wore it, and sayings like "green-eyed monster" became invented. In the end, her human ex-boyfriend managed to rescue his human bride as well as severely injure her and return home where he was glorified as a hero. Centuries passed, and even when her human boyfriend died of old age and Maleficia found herself Malleus' grandfather, she still continues to resent her human ex-lover and the woman he left her for.

Ah, and of course, when the Human-Fae Wars started, Maleficia's hatred of humans increased tenfold, and when they killed her daughter, Maleanor Draconia, it was the final nail in the coffin.

Relationships:

Her daughter, Maleanor Draconia - Queen Maleficia loved her daughter very much and was very doting and protective. Afterall, she was basically a carbon copy of her and she would loathe herself forever if the same heartbreaking fate that happened to her happened to her daughter. That's why she was very wary of her son-in-law but eventually accepted him when he proved himself to her. She was beyond devastated when her daughter died and vowed vengeance against all the humans that caused her demise.

Her grandson, Malleus Draconia - Though she loves her grandson very dearly, she is very strict and protective of him. She acknowledges that he is the only heir left of Briar Valley, and how hard it was to hatch him. For that reason, she takes being his only living relative very seriously and disciplines him to become the perfect ruler that not only she, but the entire kingdom needs him to be. She also strives for his safety above all else and only hires the best guards and retainers to keep him safe. Lastly, she would also be very picky and judgmental if her grandson were to fall in love - not only would she hate to see her grandson get his heart broken, but it would be terrible news if the Crown Prince of Briar Valley was distracted from his royal duties.

Y/N - If Y/N was introduced to her BEFORE the overblot and she and Malleus were NOT dating and just friends, Queen Maleficia would be very cold and wary of her at best, harsh and hostile at worst. She wouldn't like how casual, informal, and intimate she would be with the Crown Prince. However, if Y/N was introduced to her AFTER the overblot while just being friends with Malleus, Maleficia would at first be shocked and refuse to believe it. Afterall, how could a magicless human possibly save one of the top five most powerful mages in the world??? However, over time, when she sees that her grandson isn't joking and hasn't gone insane, she would eventually warm up to you and be extremely kind to you. Afterall, you DID save her grandson's life. If Y/N was introduced to her BEFORE the overblot and while she and Malleus WERE dating, she would be ardently against the relationship. Not only would a dragon fairy crown prince with powerful magic dating a magicless human commoner cause numerous political and social problems, but she knows better than anyone else that humans can leave behind the most devastating of broken hearts even before they're dead. But if Y/N was introduced to her while she and Malleus were a couple AFTER the overblot, as mentioned earlier, she would be very reluctant to believe such a revelation but would eventually come to quite passionately, support the relationship. With that said, the most that you'll be is Malleus' future queen consort, and the least that you'll be is his mistress. If you were to choose the former, she would be overjoyed and along with all your royal fae teachers, teach you all that you need to know to be a member of the royal Draconia family as well as the future queen of Briar Valley.

A like is a punch to Queen Maleficia's human ex-boyfriend!

[punk-in-docs]

A song of brides and hounds: part III

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 4.3k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW: for this chapter - mainly violence and some gore, also Caracalla being a nasty little bitch -- enjoy!

The servant girls’ hands are kind.

They undress you softly, and handle you with such reverence. Strip from you the ruined stola and tend your wounds.

They wash your feet, ply your cuts with a herbal paste of yarrow and uva ursi, wrap you in bandages. They rub new sweet smelling oil onto your unwounded skin.

Pick off your old jewellery and finery to be discarded. Slip you out your shoes. Lay you bare. Stood before them in naught but your skin as they tend you.

One is wetting, oiling and combing your netted hair to silky serenity again. Another is cleaning the wound on your elbow. All traces of dirt - and your previous life along with it - slowly removed.

Stood you in a shallow golden tub of warm water that laps at your ankles. Milky with oils and soaps. They put rose petals in the water. You watch them swim and dip.

You beg for one of the girls to keep the fibulae broaches that held your now damned dress to your shoulders. Your very last essence of home. Venus was enshrined in those very broaches. They gave you hope. Carrying a small kind piece of goddess with you. Laying your devotion to the majesty of the ocean on your simple shoulders.

They guided you to rooms draped in blue and gold. Stars moulded on the ceiling with the ornate marble that drips from every wall and corner. Giving the false illusion of a night sky. The flat ceiling between them clouded with bursts and puffs of dark blue that indicated churning night clouds. Boundless skies. Endless seas.

It felt like showing all the maps of the world to a caged bird.

Soft feminine blues befit these chambers. Statues and devotion to goddesses crown the walls and doorways. Urns of large stemmed white flowers. One wall holds a table lined with a huge offering of fruits, dried and fresh. Some bread and cured meats and oiled small fish. And an amphora of wine and goblet for after your bathing.

The air in here is scented all floral herb and clean. Too clean. No hint of sea salt or dried weed that tumbles on the shore to bake in the sun. It’s unfamiliar.

The huge slab of the cushioned bed is draped with silks and gauzy canopy curtains the colour of dove feathers. You don’t want to look at it. You dread thinking what will happen in it tonight.

A large maw of balcony gapes at another side of the room. This shows you the wall of rain outside. The violent tumble of thunder that must be shaking the very hills and peoples of Rome.

You feel as if the sea is raging because you’ve been stolen from it. Now it seeks vengeance on the land. Lashing and storming mercilessly until you’re found. Back where you belong.

Unlikely. It will have to rage on.

You stand, undressed, unseeing. Uncaring for the wealth of the room you’ve been pulled into.

The maid behind you, Oriana, a sweet and silent blonde, is scooping your hair back from your neck to comb and ply it with vanilla and orchid oil. Dark sweet musk.

Geta had specifically requested it.

Your head servant is a maid called Aeliana.

She has an accent you can’t place. It’s pretty, her tone husky. She had wonderful raven hair spilling silky and free over her shoulders, eyes dark as cassia bark, almond shaped. Long lashes. The epitome of tranquil beauty.

The colour of her dress is different to the rest of them. Indicating her higher status. Rusty red and it readily compliments the natural darkness of her skin. She wore golden bangles threaded on each wrist, and her touch is cloud soft.

She has a scar that intersects down from the middle of her forehead, across her left eye and cheek and ends there. Skin twisted and healed shiny. An old wound. It makes her striking to look at.

Worse still; She catches you staring.

Lowers her eyes as she tended you. Layering the sticky wet herbal treatment to your wounded elbow.

“Does my appearance displease you, my lady?” She lapses into silence for a moment or two.

“If you’d prefer I could send for another handmaiden to come tend you-“ She asks. Not harshly. There’s a hint of shame to her tone.

You look to her. Fearful of offence.

“I am not displeased. Forgive me. To stare so openly is rude.” You mutter. Eyes falling to your feet again. You watch rose petals sway on the water. You swallow thickly.

If she’s amused at your asking her, a servant, for forgiveness, she doesn’t show it. She calmly counters;

“You are Empress Salacia of Rome. You are allowed to stare at whomever you wish.” She tells you plainly.

Your eyes water. You bite inside your lower lip before you respond.

Not yet I’m not. And I don’t want to be.

“How came you by the scar?” You ask. Knowing full well you won’t like the answer. She gently washed your shoulder with a cloth.

“The Emperor.” She tells frankly.

At your doe eyed expression of horror she elucidates.

“Not Emperor Geta. His brother, Caracalla. Emperor Geta’s temper may be foul and quick to boil. But, Caracalla he is��� far crueler.” She explains.

Your mouth purses into a thin line.

Oriana has finished oiling your hair. Now she was styling it into waves. Decorated with ornaments of netted gold. Geta requested it down as opposed to the normal bridal style. Emperors have what they want.

“What was the reason…” You sought. Fearing the answer.

“I was too slow in bringing his wine one night.” She offers. Plucking a vial of oil from the side table and coming back to rub it into your bare arms.

You squeeze your eyes closed. Ignore the tickle of tears that threaten your scrunched eyelids.

This is the savage world you must inhabit now. Try to navigate with sharper hungrier teeth and deadlier instinct. You don’t feel ready. You must become lionhearted and fierce. Carry knives. Be ruthless.

You hear your mothers reverent voice in your head. Sweet sea child. You were not made that way.

“I am sorry for your pain. Aeliana. But I am grateful for your warning.” You decide.

She nods. “I thank the goddess’ for you. Empress.” She smiles at you.

Before going to the side to fetch your tunica recta, and the belt you’d wear on your waist in a knot of hercules. Which tradition dictated only Geta was allowed to undo.

Your husband.

You wince. Aueliana notices.

“Your majesty?” She seeks. Sensing your unease.

“I am nervous.” You tell her. You confide your worry in this woman with kind eyes and soft hands.

“It is expected of a bride to be nervous.” She awards you.

“I’m not a normal bride.” You confirm fearfully. She can see them shaking in your gaze. Threatening to breach your lash line.

She nods in understanding. You’re sure they all knew. The reason that placed you here. Spread like wildfire on dry plains through the servant halls.

“I know little of managing a husband. Of… starting a family.”

“If I may, your majesty. Your family is a noble one, yes?” She asks.

You nod. You lived in one of the richest houses in Corsica. You were never lacking in money or ribbons and new jewels. But at best you were a senators daughter. Not the ideal stock for an Emperors wife. Not the type to be governing one great nation.

“My grandmother is a well known seer in these parts. A healer. Purveyor of white magic. Many a time she has seen things that have yet to come to pass…” She explains as she wraps the belt around your waist. Speaking as she does.

“She foretold your arrival. Said the future of Rome would be written by rain and storm, when blood spills on the ancient serpent stone.”

Serpent. Synonymous with the Traitor. Two faced and shedding skin. Blood spilling, the death of your Brother. Rain on the rocks- this storm hammering down. You can’t believe it.

“What if Rome is your destiny?” She explains. Her voice kind and brave as the candles flicker and the storm rages on.

“Then I pray the goddess’ convey me the strength to survive it.”

“I will pray too.” She takes your hand. It feels like kinship.

They stepped you out of the tub and began to pat you dry with cloths and then dress you.

With each pass of their hands wiping the water from your skin, it removed you further and further from yourself.

Aeliana rubs a sweet balm like texture onto your pebbled nipples before she robes you. Said it was to increase your fertility. She also lines your eyes with burnt kohl.

They pulled your dress on around you. Let it fall into beautiful waves. You stood sedately and let them manoeuvre you.

Your skin positively draped with as much fragrant oil as it could take. Anointed with your new life as it drips off you in unbearable sweetness. Decorations not of your choosing put into your hair, on your ears, around your neck, on your arms. Strangled by someone else’s finery.

Slid fine golden sandals onto your feet. Aeliana brought a flame red veil and pinned it in place over your head. It floated down to your shoulders. Securing a crown of myrtle flowers over it.

It may have been gauzy fabric; rich and fine. But it felt like iron to you. Iron veil and a crown of thorns.

When they finish readying you, they bow and leave you alone to eat the fresh bread and fruits. Drink the sweet wine. Night closes in around you.

You didn’t ever picture the night before your wedding being like this. Alone and noiseless save for rain. You pictured the noise and gaiety of your sisters, dancing in their fine dresses. How they’d carry golden stalks of wheat to signify your prosperous marriage - how it would bear fruit. Be blessed by gods and fortune.

Your mother would bind your hands to the man you’d marry. To the man you’d love.

And you are here. Miserable in cold indifference. Clothed in perfumed oil and silence. With only your dour thoughts for company.

You pick at your offering of food. Feeling the milky eyes of those female deity marble statues watching you carefully. Judging. Maybe even disappointed.

When the doors next shudder open as the guards outside push them open, a divine older woman comes striding slowly, surely, into the room. Confidence woven into her steps like the very fine lavender purple cloth folded around her shoulders. A beautiful sage green palla. Her hair is dark and braided masterfully on her head. Shot through with bolts of silver.

You recognise her from coins. From statues. The Dowager Empress of Rome. Julia Domna.

She looks wise as Minerva. Goddess of education indeed. All of Rome had heard tale of not only her beauty, but her mind. Sharp as an arrowhead. A gentle mediator between her rabid sons.

Out of sheer politesse and nerves, you bolt out your seat and bow your head to her. Words shrivel on your tongue. Royalty is stood before you. Here you are plucked from the dungeons. You feel unworthy.

“Rise, my child.” She bids you. Holding out a hand laid with jewels on nearly every finger. Standing before you. Close enough to discern some of your beauty through the veil.

She examines you. Not unkindly. The way you’d expect a mother to examine the vessel that will carry her sons legacy. She’s discerning.

“Let me see my sons choice then…” she bids. Hands crossed in front of her, diplomatically, as she lets her deep set, serious eyes become acquainted with all of you.

Choice? Or chattel?

She walks around you. Eyes your hair. Your build. Your hips. The way you’ve been presented like a prized sacrificial swine before the crowds on Saturnalia.

And she doesn’t appear to find you lacking

“Goodness. You really are beautiful.” She says. It sounds mournful. Introspective. As if she didn’t intend on you hearing it.

“He’s made a fine choice.” She lauded

“Corsica, I hear you hail from?”

“Yes, Dowager.”

“I want to know one thing.” She says. Voice hard as newly forged steel. A shiver runs your spine. So she could be terrifying if she wishes.

“Are you a traitor against Rome?” She demands. “There are spies who would conspire to align themselves with this great house, under false guises, to murder my sons.” She speaks, crossly. Eyes aflame.

She has bite after all. Lions teeth and knows full well how to use them.

“I am no spy. I am not a murderer I have no guise. Like you. I only want to protect those whom I love.” You answer calmly. Placid easy waves. Gently now.

She smiles. Though something curious still lurks in her eyes.

“Then we are on the same page.” She awards slyly. You feel as if you’ve passed a test.

Her smile crooks on one side. Relieved.

She turns to the doors. The great sway of her earrings are big as chandeliers as she moves. Stunning gold. Bands of gold also cross her well formed upper arms. Every inch a woman of gentility and riches. She is perfumed with lavender. Oil made from dried plants fetched all the way from purple fields in Aquitania.

“My son grows impatient to see his bride. Come. Salacia. It is time.” She offers her arm to you.

Apparently your destiny lays in wait.

~

The wedding was a short and simple affair. The Dowager Empress led you to the grand rooms where they were to be held.

Grand, just like the rest of this humongous sprawling palace.

When you see Geta, he is clad in so much gold and armour. A blinding white cloak draped off his form. Armour golden. Carved with gods and victorious hero’s of battle. Golden laurel crown adorns his head. His smile at the sight of you makes you blush with attention.

You are suddenly grateful for the veil. It manages to hide you from every stranger in this room. You can make out Caracalla. Some other senators. Other guests you’ve no idea who.

The celebrant, a rather portly priest, ordered the evil spirits away. Asked for the fire spirits to bless you. He invoked Janus to watch over you from single people to a joined couple. New beginnings.

When it is time, he takes your hand and carefully threads an engagement ring on your finger. It is weighty, pure gold. An imitation of two dog heads joined together. A round sapphire cradled between their mouths. As if they’re fighting for it.

Remus and Romulus. It reminds you of him already.

You dare to meet his eyes as he does it. He looks ravenous. Umbra catching you where you stand. Swallows you whole. You don’t think you can get used to it yet.

“Wherever you go, there also go I, as your wife.” You speak.

The dowager Empress binds your hands together with blood red linen as the rest of the vows are read. The way his fingers turn and grip the inside of your forearm - firm pressing, hot like a brand - it makes you shiver.

Then comes the time for the marriage to be sealed with a kiss. Hands freed.

Your stomach is squirming unpleasantly as your stranger of a groom steps forwards to lift your veil. When he lifts the red gauze from your vision, you keep your eyes lowered until the last moment.

You feel the urging of his eyes. You could hear the fierce nature of his words as if he’d spoken.

Look at me. Salacia.

He looks entirely too boastful. His perfect little nymph. Caught and landed at last.

Hepulled you in by your waist. Locked his hand around your back. Gave you a kiss that was certainly gentler than before. Softness of his lips was maddening when the rest of him was all armour and metal. But you still felt the edge of his teeth on your lower lip. Bursting new pain from where it had split.

It was official. You had been dragged out a golden net cast in the sea. And now property of the Emperor of Rome.

You had no time to let your thoughts wander. There’s been quite the celebration planned for after. He walks beside you as congratulations ripple around you from nobles, senators, generals and high officials of the courts.

You ignore the way Caracalla sneers a particularly vile look your way when you pass him. Plotting.

You are lead to an opulent triclinium. Open to one huge side, guarded by pillars, which overlooked a garden where fountains trickled and plants bloom even in the storm that’s still brewing. Spitting rain on the landscape.

There are torches at the sides of the rooms, huge bowls boasting orange flames that lick at the walls, and freshly plucked flowers, still green branches and fronds sit in urns to the side. Filling the room with petals and heady nectar scent.

There’s a huge swarm of lectus’ in the centre of the room. Bronze laid with cushions. All pointing towards a huge table were bread and wine goblets awaited. You’re not used to how the room echoes. Unused to the sheer amount of people and formality that fills it.

The wine is poured freely by silent servants who sweep in and out. Some of them carrying plates as huge as carriage wheels. A whole roasted boar with grapes spilling out its mouth is brought in. Trays upon trays of cooked moray eels, cod and oiled anchovies. A whole platter of stewed nightingale birds, arranged around stalks of herbs and plums.

There’s fruit and bread the like of which you’ve not seen before. White bowls filled with cut purple figs and waxy oranges. Apples and yellow golden pears on tiered stands. Grapes and dried apricots heaped in dishes. It’s dazzling. So much wealth thrust before you.

You have a cup of sweet honey wine and take some of the unleavened bread. Watching as others around you gorge and toast with their goblets. Drinking strong wine and telling jokes and bawdy stories.

You feel disjointed from it all. You feel the Emperors eyes pass over you. The dowagers too. You are a source of mystery and intrigue.

Plucked from misfortune and placed here at the feet of gods.

You do feel when your new husband slides some pieces of fruit, or fresh breads onto your plate. A small bunch of sweet red grapes. His head may be cocked to conversation in this room. But his attention remains somewhat on you.

“Eat. Wife. I do not wish to force you.” He commands you. Prodding food and more wine in your direction.

Nursing his own cup and barking at the servants when he wanted more. You know his tongue must be stained with the taste by now. Sour purple. You wonder if you’ll taste it later in another of his animalistic kisses.

It feels like there is a boulder in your stomach. You swallow. You sip. You try to breathe. It all feels too restricted.

“Refill my wife’s cup.” Geta demands of the nearest servant. You flinch at his cutting commands.

You meet the servants eyes for a second and flicker them a smile. They look to the ground as they fill your cup. Their poor hands shake. You thank them. They don’t respond.

You’ve a feeling his plying you with wine has more than one ulterior motive. To make you loosen. Make you pliant. Make you slip down easier in his crushing grip.

“I have no appetite.” You admit weakly.

You can’t stomach the way the fat on the meat before you glistens. These poor stewed birds with clipped wings. The gutted boar. Glistening fat and dead meat. Same as the way of those poor flayed men in the coliseum.

Butchered animals. One and the same. The way blood sprayed out on the biscuit brown dirt under the sun. The way viscera glistened bright when spilled free from once living flesh. How these animals looked served on a platter. There’s no difference.

You take some grapes. Pick them from the vine. Bite into some apricots. The fruit rots on your palate. Fine sugary flesh and it bursts on your tongue like ripe putrefaction. You place it gently back on your plate.

“Do they not have fruit in Corsica?” He asks. It’s vaguely mocking.

“We had lemon trees in the gardens. An olive tree in the courtyard. Over 200 years old.” You state quietly. Not taking your eyes off the plate in front of you. You picked and prodded at it.

“You have more now. You are Empress. You have anything you want.” He impressed on you.

“I miss the ocean. The sun on the shoreline. My sisters.” You mutter.

“Don’t risk sounding ungrateful.” He threatens.

Geta followed the path of your reluctant hand with his eyes. He then scans across all of his guests. People of the senate. Rich merchants. Fellow royalty.

They come to snipe and drink wine and watch this new wedded spectacle.

“They are all dull.” Geta decided.

You wonder if the only source of amusement he could delight at was seeing people being beaten to black and blue paste in the coliseum. To have to see the spray of blood to feel something.

“They are intrigued. Their Emperor has placed a traitor in his marriage bed.” You comment.

Geta turned to you. “That sounds like treason to my ears.” A warning.

“Perhaps.” You answered. Boldly.

“But is it inaccurate? It is what they are all thinking.” You add. “You’ve wedded yourself to someone disloyal. Someone who is not their kind. They are curious.”

Geta scans his eyes over everyone again. Their laughter. The flow of wine. The way they stab and cut into food and fruit like they’re half starved. None of them quite meet your eyes.

Perhaps they don’t wish too.

His hand finds the meat of your thigh. Flesh firm and warm.

“They will believe what I tell them too. Wife. You only need worry about your loyal duty to me. Nothing else.” He makes clear.

You go back to pushing bits of fruit around your plate. Taking no more sustenance.

“No doubt you are unused to such finery.” Caracalla pipes up. Seeing you toy with your food. “I wonder what they eat in Corsica. Peasants sea food?”

You meet Caracalla’s eyes across the tables and mountains of rich food.

Getas eyes were dark. Fired by lust for you. That’s what you saw in them when he looked at you.

The same could not be said for Caracalla.

You saw nothing. Just darkness and his love of cruelty. Geta unnerved you. But it was Caracalla who scared you most. It was like gazing into a tomb. A bare skull eye socket. You’re certain nothing but darkness refracted back. Splintered twisted darkness. The purest distilled form of malice.

“Perhaps you are jealous, brother. The fact that I will have heirs meant for the future of the empire. And you will… not.” He snaps. Petulant.

“If she makes it that far.” Caracalla sneers. Daggering a smile right at you. A sneer that make you feel cold. He’s twirling a dagger in his other hand. Eyeing you with sick lustful interest.

He wants your goodness too. He wants it so he can spoil you for himself and ruin Getas legitimacy. By whatever means necessary. Geta has cruelly inserted you into this feud.

“And who’s to say the heir will be yours… who knows where her eyes will stray.” He jabs. Eyes widening as he leers.

Geta stabs into his food. Glaring at his smaller twin all the while. Eyes dark as shadow cloaked black jewels.

When some servants near you move from pouring wine, the sight of the persons impeded by them, slowed your world to a halt, ringing gongs in your ears when you caught sight of someone you recognized.

Macrinus.

The food in your mouth turns to ash which you can hardly stomach swallowing. Your gaze locked on the man as he lays content at your wedding feast. Drinking wine and roaring laughter with Caracalla. Garbed in robes of rich Aquarian blue trimmed with gold pattern.

Exactly the gracious easy way he had been when he dined with you and your father in his home.

His smile remains as he locks eyes with you. And raises his glass in a toast in your direction. You hear him drink to your new name with a blazing smirk aimed your way. “Empress.”

You mumble a pithy excuse. You don’t know if anyone hears you or if they’ll even look up from their plates when you get up and rush to leave.

Caracalla snorts as you race from the room on the verge of tears.

“She’s a flighty one. Your Empress. So full of tears.” Caracalla comments loudly. Cruelly. Turning his head to meet the acid stare of his brother - and the Dowager Empress as she lowers her goblet from her lips. Eyes cool as metal.

“Maybe if you shoved your cock into your broodmare, brother, as you doubtless plan to do this night. Maybe that would settle her down? Or maybe a good beating from the guards will see her right, make her see her place… maybe let a few of the guards bend her over a lectus and see to her first? Loosen her up a little for your uses.”

“Caracalla. Enough.” The dowager snaps. Lightning power in her voice. Tone fashioned from a fury storms could envy. Her dark eyes glow with it.

She turns to Geta and lays a gentle pacifying hand to his arm. “See to your bride, dear. She looked unwell.”

Geta sighs a snarl. Glaring at his brother as he does as mother suggested.

She watches him leave. Turns to her other son with barely concealed ire.

Caracalla snorts into his wine with the other guests. Making sneering, high handed remarks.

“Such marital bliss.” He mocks to the guests. Twirling his favourite silver dagger in his other hand. Laughing as he played with the dead meats on his plate with a sneer. His tooth winked golden in the light.

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

@ceriseheaven @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[wearebarca]

9. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 9

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed somewhere too long. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself at critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

Word count: 6,3k

Warnings: 18+ Smut

Alexia Putellas is a creature of habit. Every day at seven, she would be dressed and taking Nala for a small walk before eating breakfast and leaving for training. Even when she was out of town for games or training camp, she would be up and pacing in her room until it was time to go down to breakfast. 

But this morning was different. It was the sun shining bright and illuminating the room which pulled her from her slumber. Her body was still heavy with sleep as she attempted to rise from the very comfortable yet unfamiliar bed, but her efforts were cut short by an arm snaking around her waist and pulling her deeper in the covers. 

Rosalie was still fast asleep. Her hair was all over her pillow and the sheets were sitting at her lower back, which allowed the footballer a clear view of the curious tattoo snaking down her spine.  

 Alexia smiled at the sight, not quite yet processing the fact that she had finally made a move on the French-Canadian. A lot of questions and insecurities were still coursing through her mind but she willed them away for now, deciding to enjoy this peaceful moment.

Her eyes scanned the room. The walls were painted white and harboured many gold picture frames. All the images were in black and white and showed what Alexia guessed were some of Rosalie’s favourite shots. The decorations were simple, with a dark green, gold and dark wood theme. It was cozy and warm, which matched the brunette’s overall energy. 

Rosalie shifted in her sleep, turning around with her back facing the blond. The strange line caught yet again Alexia’s attention. She could not help but trace the pattern with her slender fingers, her touch light as a feather. 

“It’s the map of a hiking trail from back home.” A small sleepy voice said. 

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Alexia said, her fingers not leaving the smooth skin of her back. 

“You didn’t, I was just resting.” She said, turning her head to smile at the beautiful woman in her bed. 

“This path was like a little sanctuary for me. It ends at the foot of a small waterfall where you can swim. The water is freezing though.” She said, shivering half because of the memory, and half because of the feeling of cold fingers tracing her skin. 

“It’s very beautiful,” She smiled at the compliment and turned fully towards the captain. Alexia’s gaze shifted from her face to her body which had only the bottom half hidden by the covers. 

Rosalie smirked, “ Do you see something you like capitaine?”

Alexia blushed furiously and averted her eyes, only to feel a hand on her cheek pull her back in. “Oh Alexia, you are allowed to look.”

The declaration only made the blond blush worsened, but it didn’t keep her from leaning down to capture the photographer’s lips. “que suerte tengo”

Rosalie snaked her arms around the footballer’s shoulders and dragged her back down with her, without separating her lips from hers. The weight of the blond felt divine. Her hands lazily roamed over warm skin. They stayed like this for a moment, limbs tangled in the sheets until Rosalie moved suddenly. 

“What about Nala? Don’t you have to go take her out?” She asked, looking worried. 

“It’s ok, she’s with my sister. She’ll stay over there for national camp.” Alexia answered, her lips moving down the column of the brunette’s neck. 

“When are you leaving for Madrid?”

“Tomorrow night.” Alexia said, while her hands trailed down to caress the skin of her inner thighs, making Rosalie’s breath hitch.

“Alexia..”The photographer whispered breathlessly. 

“Si? Que quieres hermosa.” Her fingers were lingering dangerously close to her center. 

“We should probably get up.” The photographer said, not sounding the slightest sincere. Alexia simply hummed as her fingers made contact with her slick center. She spread her lips, gathering her arousal and started circling her clit. 

Rosalie grabbed her shoulders and buried her face in the blond’s neck, muffling the sound of her soft moans. 

Alexia kept her rhythm slow, working up the photographer before slipping her fingers inside. Rosalie’s grip tightened around her shoulders. She didn’t even need to say anything to the blond, who added a finger when she felt the brunette needed more. 

The coil was rapidly tightening inside Rosalie who wondered just how hard it would be to start her day when she had this beautiful woman in her bed. 

Her climax washed over her as she bit down on Alexia’s shoulder. She was left limp on the bed as waves of pleasure still travelled down her body. 

“Are you ok Rosalia?” The blond asked teasingly. 

“Oui, oui… just a minute please” she said, her eyes closing on their own accord. 

When the photographer came to, she was still in bed, but this time, Alexia was not laying at her side. A wave of sadness came over the brunette. Nothing had been said about what their situation currently was but, she couldn’t help but have some hope that this was not a one time thing. 

She slipped on an oversized t-shirt and underwear and stepped out her bedroom, only to be greeted by the smell of fresh coffee and what she guessed were crêpe. 

Alexia was in her kitchen, wearing what the brunette recognized as her old college t-shirt and training shorts that were very short on the taller woman’s frame. Rosalie took a seat at the kitchen island and watched the midfielder cook for a moment before deciding to make her presence known. 

Alexia spun rapidly around, but smiled as soon as she saw the smaller woman sitting in front of her. 

“Bon dia, Rosalia. Did you sleep good?” She asked, putting a cup of coffee in front of the brunette. 

“Very much so, you?”

“ Me too.” They stayed silent for a while, with Alexia focusing on the food while Rosalie was lost in her thoughts. Sure the blond had not left, hell she was making them breakfast, dressed in her clothes, so by all means, this meant more than just a hookup. 

That knowledge alone seemed to satisfy the brunette. “You are packed already, si” Alexia asked, motioning to the bags laying by the door with her spatula. 

“Yes, you know how I get when it comes to travelling.”  Alexia laughed at the comment as she started to plate their food. 

Rosalie was quite impressed with her cooking skills, especially since the blond had never made this dish before. They spoke about everything and nothing, simply enjoying each other’s company. They both felt the elephant in the room, the fact that they would both leave for at least two weeks, leaving this situation un-discussed. 

“What are you planning to do today?”Alexia asked after a moment. 

“I was going for a run then most likely working on some side projects.” The photographer said, putting away the dirty dishes. “What about you?” 

“I have to pack my bags and Alba is coming over later.” Alexia said, sounding a little exasperated by the fact that her sister would surely be pestering her for details of her night. “When will you be back?” She asked in a small voice. 

“In about two weeks, maybe a little longer, I’m staying a few days with Leah” 

Alexia stiffened slightly at the mention of the English captain, but Rosalie could not decipher if it was a question of rivalry or something else. 

“Si, Lucia mentioned it.” Alexia said, walking around the kitchen island only to cage the brunette between the counter and her. 

“You text me when you land, si?” She asked with a worried expression. 

“Oui, yes I will.” She captured the captain’s lips for a sweet kiss in which the blind melted. 

They finished picking up and Rosalie gave Alexia a pair of team issued track pants. The blond left soon after, much to the photographer’s disappointment. She did end up going out for a run, but sadly did not make it to her desired distance due to a certain soreness she could only blame on the midfielder. 

She was up at four the next morning. A mix of anxiety and febrility had prevented her from getting a proper night of sleep and now, she was out running again, like every morning before a flight. When the English couple showed up at her door, the photographer had already showered and was pacing her apartment. 

When they saw her, the couple mutually decided that teasing the brunette about the other night was not the best idea since she looked like she could snap at any given opportunity. 

Shortly after they reached the airport, Rosalie’s phone chimed. The message that pulled up on her screen was the cause of her first smile since the morning. 

La Reina - Have a good flight. You’re gonna be fine.

This message, as simple as it was, served as a reminder of the night the photographer had spent with the captain. The flashbacks which would randomly appear in her mind succeeded in keeping the woman busy during the short plane ride that separated them from Portugal. 

She had never been in this country before and was excited to walk around and capture what Lisbon had to offer. She sent a message to Alexia telling her she had landed safely before following the rest of the girls towards their transport. 

The drive to the hotel was short and filled with excited chatter. It had been a while since she had seen the lionesses and she was buzzing at the thought of seeing her best friend again. 

As soon as the bus stopped at the front of the hotel, they were called to the conference room where the rest of the team and staff were already gathered. 

Seeing as the briefing was about to start, Rosalie made a beeline to the rest of the media team, instantly recognizing the familiar faces with whom she had worked with for years. 

The players and coaching staff were gathered on one side while the rest of the media and administrators were on the other. The meeting was short, with the head coach welcoming everyone and explaining the schedule of the following two weeks. Then the head of each department gave a few words and scheduled some meetings to give out the details of each team’s missions. 

Timing was simply not on her side, since the media team was meeting right after in a different conference room, preventing the Canadian from seeing her friends. It wasn’t until much later, when Rosalie was prepping her camera for the first training session, that arms wrapped themselves around her from behind. She knew right away who they belonged to, and she spun around to properly hug the blonde captain. 

“I’ve missed you Frenchy.” Leah whispered, her head still buried in the brunette's neck. 

“Me too Williamson“

“Movie night tonight, your room cause it’s cozier, we’ll be there at 18h” Leah said as she sped back down the tunnel to the pitch. It was a tradition for the little group. Every camp, on the first night, they would all meet in one of the girls' hotel rooms and catch up while “watching” a movie. 

Rosalie smiled and shook her head at the blonde’s antics and made her way to the field. The practice went well, with most of the girls messing around in front of the camera, the first training always lighter than the rest of the program. 

As soon as it was over, Rosalie was swarmed by the rest of the girls who were trying to hug the photographer and rub their sweat on to her. 

“Non non non I have equipment on me don’t touch me!” She yelled while backing away from Beth Mead who was stalking towards the brunette with a devilish grin. Unbeknownst to her, Rachel Daly was behind her and trapped her in her arms. 

“Eh merdre vous êtes dégoûtante! Lâchez-moi bande de pestes!” She yelled, laughing while Rachel lifted her off the grass and took off with her. 

“Ok enough!” Lucy said, smiling at the two girls. “Careful Daly, she gets nasty when she switches to French.” 

It was agreed that the girls would be heading to their rooms to shower and get ready and they would all get room service delivered to Rosalie’s room and eat together. When she finally opened the door to her room, Rosalie felt a wave of tiredness wash over her. She took the few steps that separated her from her bed and flopped down on it. 

A rather harsh series of knocks jolted the brunette awake. The poor girl had completely lost track of time and checked her watch , only to realize that she only had twenty minutes before the girls would arrive. 

She silently thanked whoever was at her door For the interruption and opened it to reveal Leah in her lioness tracksuit and sporting her signature raised eyebrow. “You were sleeping, weren’t you?”

“Look that awful?” The French-Canadian said, stepping aside to let the captain in. 

“Like you got trampled yeah“ She said, walking around the room and grabbing her shower bag from her luggage. “You go shower, I’ll put away your stuff.”

When the photographer emerged from the bathroom, she found the blonde English woman sprawled out on her bed, with her phone in hand. “I take it all is well between the queen of football and you.” she said with a smirk. Rosalie lunged at her trying to pry her phone from her hands but the footballer was faster. 

“Bonita hm? I did not know you guys were at the pet name stage just yet.” 

“Give it back already!”

“Not before you tell me exactly what happened since the team bonding night.” Leah said, sitting on the brunette’s phone so she could not reach it. Rosalie was about to cave in and start spilling when voices followed by rapid knocks resonated in the room. Rosalie smiled as she walked to the door.

“Don’t think this is over darling.” Leah said, standing up to greet her teammates. 

It took a grand total of three days for Leah to finally catch the photographer alone again. Three days of watching from afar as the brunette kept smiling at her phone and texting while never divulging who was on the other end. Some of the girls had tried to know, Beth Mead being the most insistent. But the Canadian stayed secretive, avoiding the subject like the plague. 

It was getting late and the sun was slowly setting when she did find her, the brunette was laying on an outdoor chair with her computer, visibly working hard on something. Her hair was up in a messy bun and her glasses were perched on the brink of her nose. She was wearing an oversized Barcelona hoodie that looked like it swallowed her whole. Leah stopped for a second and snapped a picture, before making her way to the empty seat next to her.

“What are you working on Frenchy?”

“Do you remember that project I told you about? Well, I asked someone from the media team to make an announcement to ask people to submit pictures of them taken during games. I want to have a part of the expo where fans can share their own memories and what it means to them.” Rosalie said, her eyes not leaving the screen in front of her. 

The blonde smiled at her friend and stayed silent for a moment. This night was so similar to the countless ones they had spent on her balcony with her reading or studying games while the other was editing pictures. Leah would be lying if she said she didn’t miss these quiet nights, but also understood why the Canadian had to move away, and was glad to see her start to be happy again. 

Sha had had doubts when Lia had proposed that she come spend a few days in London with them and the rest of the Arsenal girls. She didn’t want to see her friend affected by a certain Irish footballer. 

She did trust the photographer’s judgement. If she said she’d be fine, she had to trust her. But she couldn’t help but be protective. 

It was that protectiveness that fuelled the English woman’s curiosity.  “Are you gonna make me ask again or are you finally gonna tell me.”

Rosalie stopped typing. She had hoped that the blonde would have forgotten, but she knew that it was very unlikely. “What do you want me to say? It was just a night out with the team.” She said, knowing that Leah had smelled her bullshit from a mile away. The look she sent her was confirmation enough. 

“Ok, I danced with some of the girls.”

Leah stayed silent, watching her friend, waiting for the brunette to unfold the true events of that night. 

“What?”

“Continue.” Leah said, her expression unchanged. 

“We were dancing pretty close..” Leah’s eyebrow shot up. 

“No no it’s not that. She was trying to get a reaction… and she did.” Leah straightened In her chair. The simple fact that her friend was so hesitant in telling her meant that things did happen during that night. 

“Rosalie Montmorency I swear to god if you don’t start making sense soon..” Leah did not have time to finish her threats that Rosalie blurred out a series of rapid sentences. Unfortunately for the brunette, Leah had heard enough to be able to piece everything together. 

“She dragged you in the bathroom and y’all finished the job at your place.” 

“How did you..”

“I’m an expert in French accented nonsense.”

“Va te faire foutre”

“I have Lia for that thank’s very much mate.” Rosalie laughed at her response. “Back to what really matters now. Is she serious about this Rosie?”

“I don’t know.” She said, her gaze fixed on the skyline. “Honestly, I don’t need to for now. It feels good. That’s what matters right now. I know it won’t be a one time thing that’s for sure.”

“Don’t let yourself be someone else’s secret Frenchy.” They stayed silent for a long while. Rosalie working on her project and Leah simply enjoying the calm of the night air.

 For the remainning few days, Leah helped the photographer get out of the none stop questions by changing the subject or draghing the brunette away when the girls got too intense. That, was a luxury Alexia could not afford, since half of the national team, also her club teammates, had seen her drag the photographer outside and disappeared for the rest of the night. 

Without much surprise, as soon as Jenni and Misa had caught wind of it, she became the target of unrelenting teasing and questionings. Rooming alone had become a blessing since the short amount of free time she had could be spent in the quiet of her hotel room. 

Or she thought. She should have known better. Jenni, who had transferred in Mexico, had watched from afar the social media slip up the captain and photographer had been victim of and had seen the small video with something the public does not have. She knew the midfielder. This was not a simple, playful interaction. Alexia was not like that with people she met not too long ago. 

Irene had also shared how she had reacted when the story was posted, which showed just how much the blonde really cared. So it was with all this in mind that the striker had showed up at Alexia’s door one night and demanded she tell every little detail possible. 

As reticent as the blonde was, she was still, in a way, glad to be able to talk about that night, since she had not seen Mapi before leaving for camp. Jenni knew everything, while Misa, Laia and Mariona knew only the brunt of it. 

Alexia could not be more glad to step into the familiarity of her apartment. She was tired, and her ears still buzzed from the incessant chatter and bickering. Her apartment was dark and still. Nala was still at her sister’s place due to the late hour of her arrival and the absence of the sound of her excited little paws made the space feel cold and empty. 

She dropped her bags in her bedroom and opened her phone. Rosalie must’ve landed in London by now, and her suspicions were confirmed when a notification grabbed her attention. They had not talked much about her stay in London. She knew that she would see the girls from Arsenal, which meant that she would be seeing McCabe. The simple thought made Alexia’s blood boil. Her own reaction surprised her and she shook her head in a vain attempt to get her out of her head.

The blonde unpacked her suitcases and tried to do some chores around the flat to occupy her mind, but her eyes kept drifting  to the clock in her living room. Barcelona was an hour ahead of London. She had a good chance of finding the French-Canadian awake. Without much thinking, the footballer grabbed her phone on the counter and opened the photographer’s contact, but instead of clicking  on messaging, her finger drifted up to reach the call button. 

There was no time for the midfielder to reconsider, because after two tones, the tired voice of the brunette resonated in her kitchen. “Allo? Alexia? Are you alright?”

Rosalie was getting ready for bed. Her skin was still red from the boiling shower she had just stepped out of. It wasn’t in her habit to stay up so late, but the flight and the anxiousness of being back here had come with a lot more strength than she had anticipated. She had felt the need to go out for a run in hopes of exhausting herself enough for a good night of sleep. 

Seeing Alexia’s contact name and picture light up her screen had been a surprise, but a welcomed one. The line stayed silent for a second. Alexia had not exactly planned what she would say. Hell, she didn't even know why she had called in the first place. 

“Hola Rosalia.” The nickname made the brunette blush, and she was glad the captain could not see her face right now. “ Si I am alright. How are you?”

“I’m ok, mostly tired from the trip.”

“You went running, si?” The blonde asked in a disapproving tone.

“How did you…”

“I pay attention Rosalia, especially when it comes to you.” The revelation stunned the brunette who stayed silent, speechless. “ I should let you rest.”

“Non, no please. It’s nice to hear your voice.” 

“Ok, Where are you?”

“At Leah’s place, she has a guest room.”

“Ah, England captain hm.” Her tone was curt, almost as if the blonde wasn’t a big fan of the defender.  Rosalie chuckled.

“Yes, her and her girlfriend are close friends of mine.” 

“ Ah, Lia Walti si? Or is it just a rumor?” Alexia asked, her voice a little lighter than before.

“Just between us, it's true. But they are very private about all this so please don’t say anything.” The brunette said.

“No, do not worry, I understand.” Alexia said, making her way to the bedroom where she let herself fall on her bed. “When will you be back?” 

“Is La Reina missing me?” Rosalie said in a playful tone. Alexia could feel her face heat up at the comment. The photographer was right, but there was no way the footballer would admit it. 

“I was just wondering that is all.” Alexia covered her face with her hand, cringing at her horrible attempt to sound casual. “I better let you sleep, You probably have a big day ahead tomorrow.”

Rosalie hummed softly. She would love to keep talking to the blonde but her eyes felt more and more heavy and sleep was harder to fight off as the minutes passed. “Thank you for calling me Ale.” She said in a small sleepy voice.

“Thank you for answering. Bona nit, preciosa.” The tone signaling the end of the call was heard before Rosalie could even register what the Catalan had just said. She dropped her phone on the night stand and fell asleep a few moments later, with a smile still apparent on her lips. 

The next morning was chaotic to say the least. She was woken up by a very grumpy English woman who decided that throwing a granola bar at the photographer’s face was absolutely the best type of wake up. When she groaned in annoyance, the brunette was only met with “ Should’ve gone to sleep instead of chatting with La reina.” and another granola bar hurled her way. 

Lia, who was decidedly more chipper than her girlfriend, was waiting in the living room, already dressed for training with two to-go cups of coffee in hand. She handed one to the photographer with an apologetic smile. It had been agreed that Rosalie would come with them during practice and would have access to the gym and facilities while the team was out on the field. Then, Beth, Viv, Victoria, Steph and the LW’s would all go for a coffee together. 

It seemed like a simple plan, nothing too fancy, nothing stressful. But on the car ride to the training ground, Rosalie could feel the steady build up of anxiety. She was happy to visit her old stomping ground and see the people she had worked with for two years, but she also dreaded seeing some others. The brunette did not have more time to prepare herself because Leah pulled up at her parking space and her door had already swung open. A second later, her own door was opened and a hand was dragging her out of the safety of the car. 

“ You listen to me very carefully now, Frenchy.” she said with a serious, almost scary look in her eyes. Lia had walked a few steps ahead, giving the two women the privacy they needed. “ If she so much as looks at you the wrong way, or tries to talk to you, you let me know, got it?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“You do that, and I’ll take care of her.” Leah said, turning around and motioning to the photographer to follow. 

The girls were already all on the field when the trio arrived. Rosalie had not realized that they had arrived later, most likely to prevent the photographer from being attacked by a bunch of eager footballers in the locker room before practice. As caring as the intention had been, the very same reaction happened, but simply not in the confined space of the locker rooms. For the occasion Rosalie had borrowed an Arsenal track vest, to try and blend in better, but the photographer still stuck out like a sore thumb on the field. 

The first to reach her side was Beth, who jumped in her arms despite seeing her two days ago, followed closely by Victoria Pelova, who reacted in a similar fashion. Viv and Steph arrived side by side, greeting the photographer with a warm hug and soon enough, the whole team huddled around their old photographer and friend. 

Rosalie was too busy meeting the new signings from the summer transfers, that she didn’t see who was hovering at the periphery of the circle. No one had told Katie she was coming. Seeing the brunette walk on the pitch, being surrounded by her whole team, seeing that smile stretched so wide on her delicate face, it brought back something she had not felt in a while. A voice pulled her out of her thoughts. 

“Don’t you even think about it.” It was Steph.

“ I’m not.”

“Tell that to your face.”She finally ripped her gaze from the brunette to look at the Australian beside her. “You made choices. And surprisingly, It all went great for you. You’ ve got a girlfriend that loves you, friends and teammates that forgave you and supported you.” Steph’ s eyes shifted to the brunette who had started to pass the ball with Beth and Viv while they all waited for practice to start. “ She left because staying here was too much, and she’s just started to be happy again. So McCabe please, leave her be.”

The gym had not changed since the last time she had set foot in it. It was smaller than the Barça one, she noted,  as she took place at the farthest squat rack. Time flew by quickly, so much so, that the Canadian did not realise that someone had been tasked to come get her, and was now standing next to her on the treadmill. She was startled and her steps faltered, which would have sent her flying off if strong hands had not stabilized her. “ Hey merde Miedema! You almost ended me there.”

“I’m sorry Rosie,” She said with an apologetic smile. “ We’re all done though. We’ll go shower at home and meet for coffee after.” She said, picking up the photographer’s things. They walked down to the parking lot together, without much being said. They did not need to talk, they both understood that much could be learned in the quiet stillness. It had always been like this with Viv, and the brunette loved it. 

They all met at the coffee shop which used to be their weekly meeting spot. It was small, and hidden in a small pedestrian street. The atmosphere was light and happy. Beth and Viv had brought their new puppy and Steph had brought her dog as well. 

It truly was like she had never left. The conversations were flowing. They explained to her the latest gossip among the team, skillfully skimming over a certain defender. Rosalie got to talk about her new life in Barcelona and the smile that was plastered on her face spoke volumes on how happy the brunette was. 

They moved to the park where the puppies got to burn their pent up energy, which made for very interesting pictures that would surely make it to the photographer’s instagram later. 

«Ok we’ve all waited long enough.” Beth said as they all watched the dogs roll around in the grass. “Alexia Putellas, what’s happening?”

Rosalie heard the facepalm from Leah and laughed as she turned towards the blonde. “The social media person thought it’d be funny to use our friendship to get views.” Rosalie said. She had had time to think of an answer to give her curious friends. “There’s nothing more between us, she’s just a friend.”

If the girls had noticed the light blush on her cheeks, they didn’t say anything. It was agreed that tomorrow night, they would all go out to the team’s favourite bar like they all used to. 

The next day, the team had training and other media obligations that would most likely take all day, leaving the photographer to go out for a run in her old neighborhood. She had brought in her vest a small film camera and stopped at multiple spots to capture what used to be her home. She ended up staying out for a good three hours and came back just in time to start supper.

The pub was cozy, with colourful fairy lights on the ceiling and old worn out furniture that gave the space an authentic vibe. Several tv’s were hung on the walls and showed a rugby match with teams the brunette had never seen before. The pub was busy enough with people clearly here for the game and others just enjoying a pint with friends. A few of the girls had already arrived and had settled on the large table at the back, engaged in deep conversation. 

It was easy to go out with the arsenal girls. They were not a rowdy bunch and there was no language barrier keeping her from having to concentrate to keep track of conversation. It was familiar and Rosalie realized that she needed this after being away and adjusting non-stop to a completely different environment. 

She was in the middle of arguing with Beth and Victoria over something completely frivolous, when the table fell silent and all eyes focused on the people who had just crossed the threshold. 

Most of the girls knew not to invite her, so Leah was clueless as to how the Irish woman had known they were all gathering tonight. But upon seeing the guilty face of the new girls, she realized that one of them probably wasn’t aware of the history between the photographer and the Irish woman. Thankfully the last chair available was at the far end of the table, next to Kyra and Russo. 

Rosalie tensed as soon as she heard the thick accent. She tried hard to tune out the sound of her voice, but her ears were so used to seeking out her voice, it was like she could not escape it. Slowly, the brunette grew more and more uncomfortable, and it was clear to all who surrounded her, so it wasn’t a surprise when finally, the French-Canadian excused herself to get some air. 

Fall was slowly creeping in, the wind picking up and stinging Rosalie's cheeks leaving them rosy and cold. She could hear the muffled sound of cheering from the sidewalk, another try from the home team no doubt. She heard the door open and someone stepping out, but she stayed still, not bothering to turn around. It was probably one of her friends making sure she was already anyway. 

“Still not a big fan of crowds?” The speed at which the Rosalie tuned would have given whiplash to anyone. 

“You don’t get to come out here.” It was a tone Katie had never heard from the photographer before. It was firm, every word laced with venom. She almost took a step back when her eyes met her green ones. There was a fire in them that told the defender she had not, and would not, forgive her. 

“ I just wanted to talk.” She said taking a careful step towards the brunette. 

“You already said everything. All I’m asking is for you to stay away. You’ve got everything you wanted, everyone you wanted. Leave me alone Katie.”

“What is wrong with you?” Katie said, almost offended by the brunette’s attitude. Rosalie had never held her own against her and it was nerve wracking for the arsenal player. “I just wanna talk! You can’t talk to me like this.”

“You lost all respect from me the day I discovered your lies. I'll talk to you how I see fit.”

“I already apologized for that. Rosalie please, it’s not the same with you gone. Just hear me out please.” Rosalie didn’t move. She faced the street, hoping that the defender would give up and go back inside, or even better, leave the pub. But it was all wishful thinking. She knew her too well and the defender never backed down from a fight. 

“What happened in Spain? You changed. What did she tell you to make you believe you could treat me this way?” Her last sentence threw her off. 

 “What are you…” 

“Oh so what, you attach yourself to the biggest name in women's football and think it won’t be the only thing we hear about?” She said with unrestrained anger. “Do you need that much attention?”

As if she had been summoned, Rosalie’s phone chimed with a new message, no doubt from the Spanish midfielder. Katie raised her eyebrows, knowing exactly who that text was from without needing to ask. 

“She has nothing to do with this! And even if what you are insinuating was true, why would it matter? Who I am seeing is none of your business.”

“It’s everyone’s business if you rub it all over instagram.” She spat at the photographer’s face. “It’s just a PR stunt. You’re a fool if you think otherwise.” 

There she was, the Katie McCabe she knew. The one who shattered her without any regret. She was speechless. All her bravado from earlier was gone, the defender had pushed too far and now she was back to how it was before. The Irish woman throwing her tantrum while she stayed still, with tears threatening to spill. 

“Enough.” Rosalie had not registered the arrival of another person, too focused on holding herself together and not showing any emotions. When Leah appeared in her line of sight, Rosalie let a long sight out. 

“Can you hear yourself right now? What would your girlfriend say if she heard you?”

“I’m just looking out for her!”

“This is clearly not for  her benefit, don't try to justify your jealousy McCabe.” She said standing between the photographer and the defender. “Go get your stuff and leave, we’ll talk about your bullshit tomorrow.”

Leah made sure that the Irish woman left and then met the photographer outside again. “Wanna talk about it?” She asked, knowing the answer already. 

“It’s ok, I kinda just wanna go to bed right now.” She said, eyes still fixed on the pavement. 

“I’ll go get the car.”

“I think I’d rather walk if that’s ok.” Leah knew that the woman needed some quiet, so she handed her her keys and left a kiss on the photographer’s forehead before watching her walk away.

[harryslittlefreakk]

can’t get you off my mind

(late night talking part 2)

Summary: your first night at LOT leads to a new depth to yours and harry’s… friendship

Warnings: smut, 18+!!!

A/n: i love this one. that’s all. this is all based off a very fun dream i had

hi guys!! thank you so much for all the love on this so far. if there’s anything you’d like to see, anything for me to add, anything at all you’d like in the upcoming parts then please let me know 🫶🏼xx

part one

my masterlist can be found here!

Harry spent the entire day thinking about you. He’d dropped you at your hotel that morning, slightly against his will. He woke before you, and couldn’t believe how adorable you looked sleeping. Your hair was a mess from tossing and turning in the night, your cheeks rosy from the morning heat and your rosebud lips puffing out with every breath.

He had places to be and you needed to shower, but once he saw the building you were staying in he decided you’d never go back there. It looked a state. The yellowing brickwork was falling apart, some windows were boarded up and the front door was wedged open for anyone to get in at any time. He made a mental note of your room number before he drove off.

You’d exchanged numbers as you left, but Harry hadn’t heard from you since then. Although he was busy with work at the venue, outfit fittings and some sneaky self-care, he was starting to panic that he wouldn’t speak to you again. So when he’d finally had enough of waiting by the phone like a teenager, he snapped a picture of himself with a sheet mask on. He sent it to you, then followed with a message.

harry: making myself pretty for you :)

He saw you were typing almost immediately, and his heart nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a picture from you flash up. You were wearing a tiny baby tee, and if he looked hard enough (which he absolutely did) he could make out the outline of your nipples under the shirt. You were surrounded by makeup, your hair already styled in perfect waves.

y/n: you’re pretty enough as you are. working hard on myself too 😋

Harry felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he read and reread your message. Tapping his fingers on the side of his phone, he stared up at the ceiling and wondered how you’d just been dropped right under his nose. He always shied away from women who were fans of his work, knowing it can get more complicated that way. But something was different about you, there was a reason he’d bumped into you last night, he was sure of it.

—

With soundcheck finished, all Harry had to do now was get ready. He wondered if you were outside already, where you’d be inside, what you’d be wearing. You hadn’t caved and given him any details, so the possibilities had been running through his mind all day. He paced his dressing room, stretching out his strong arms. Every show was important, every show needed to go right. His first night at Wembley needed to be a good one. He just hoped he’d spot you, know you were there so he didn’t have to keep looking for you. Sighing, he decided to send you one final text before shutting his phone off and getting in the zone.

harry: meet me at my hotel after the show? won’t be there until later but can give your name to the front desk :) x

y/n: only if i’m not intruding !!! good luck tonight, break a leg 🦵 x

Meanwhile, you were in the queue outside the stadium with your best friend, Joanie. You were both wearing denim halter playsuits, her with a blue feather boa and yours white. You’d met each other at school where you bonded over One Direction, so you wished to be able to tell her about your night with Harry. But you knew whatever friendship was blossoming between you two could only continue in private, at least for now, and you knew she’d understand when you eventually told her. She was watching you as you stood there, jittering and anxiously checking your phone. “What’s up with you?,” she asked, her face scrunched up. “Oh. Nothi- I’m just anxious to get inside,” you lied through your teeth, hoping she wouldn’t ask any further. You knew the last thing on Harry’s mind right now would be texting you, yet you still waited for another message. You had your phone brightness turned all the way down so no one could see, and clicked on your text chain with Harry every few minutes. You couldn’t stop looking at his selfie, his glistening green eyes against the white of the mask, the relaxed look on his face. He was shirtless, the heads of his inked swallows just creeping into frame. You hadn’t even clocked he’d slept shirtless last night. The things you’d do if presented with that again ..

The queue began to move inside, and every wall you looked at showed you pictures of Harry’s face. It felt totally insane that the same man you’d joked around with like old friends was the one you’d be screaming to shortly. Part of you wanted to dial down your enjoyment, make him think you’re just a casual fan so he felt more comfortable around you- but you knew the second he came on stage that would be out the window.

You found a perfect spot a few rows back from the front of the walkway, knowing Joanie wanted to see ‘little freak’ and ‘matilda’ up close. It wasn’t long until you heard the opening chords of ‘daydreaming’ and watched Harry burst onto the stage. The atmosphere was electric, and he looked divine in his red and white patterned jumpsuit. You and Joanie were screaming and jumping like children at a school disco, in pure disbelief of the love and wholesome vibes around you.

When Harry appeared just in front of you, you felt a buzzing in your chest. You’d seen his eyes scanning the crowds, as if he was looking for someone, and you really hoped he was looking for you. As soon as you thought about it, his eyes landed upon yours. He sucked in a long breath, losing his train of thought mid-ramble. Harry thought you were beautiful last night but you looked almost heavenly tonight. Your playsuit hugged your curves perfectly, the half-up zipper showing an inviting amount of cleavage. He could see all the tattoos dotted up and down your arms, and the way you were grinning at your friend made his heart melt a little. You had an air of innocence about you, which he loved. Suddenly, your friend was looking at him awestruck and nudging you to see. You half-waved, sending him a subtle wink so as not to alert Joanie to anything weird. Harry managed to carry on with what he was saying, but his eyes barely left you the entire time he was there.

By the time he got around to ‘late night talking’, Harry literally couldn’t get you off his mind. In a sea full of people, it’s like there was a spotlight on you. The way you were dancing, your hair flying around you, he was mesmerised. The rest of the show continued in a blur, with Harry barely in control of his own actions. Going through the motions until he could see you later on. Grinding against the microphone, acting out the dirtier parts of every song. You riled him up in the perfect way.

“I need a little help from you all,” he spoke into the microphone, one hand scanning the crowd. “It’s a little hot today, and I think we need to cool down.” His face remained serious, though the crowd laughed after his antics all night. He was positively feral. Rolling his shoulders back, Harry grabbed the microphone as the first lines of ‘kiwi’ tumbled out his mouth. It didn’t take long for him to be back in front of you, already drenched from the splashes of water he’d requested. He was standing there with a devilish smirk plastered on his face, full water bottle in hand.

She sits beside me like a silhouette

His hand traced the curves of his own body, eyes locked onto yours once again. The words you were screaming were no more than tiny squeaks now, heart caught in your throat as you watched Harry gyrating in front of you.

Hard candy drippin' on me 'til my feet are wet

He raked a hand down the front of his body, pulling away just before he reached his goods. Something in his eyes said he wanted to touch himself right here, right now.

And now she's all over me, it's like I paid for it

It's like I paid for it

He pointed towards you now, apparently totally incapable of anything except showing the world that he wanted to fuck you. Heat was swirling round your insides, this song did enough for you without Harry singing it for you.

I'm gonna pay for this

Just as the burning in your core got too much to bear, Harry unscrewed his water bottle and threw the contents right at you. You shrieked as the water hit you, drenching Joanie and the other girls around you. Harry returned your wink, the green of his eyes barely visible around his blown pupils, and moved on as if nothing happened.

“Oh my God!” Joanie screamed, jumping up and down at your side. “He was looking right at you!!”

You were so flustered, you couldn’t even find words to respond. You were almost nervous for the show to finish, hoping Harry still had this energy later.

—

Opening the door to your hotel room, you looked around with your jaw dropped. Everything was gone, all your makeup and clothes vanished from the piles around the room. All that was left was some gym shorts, a black t shirt and the pair of sneakers you wore last night. You turned on your heel, furious that someone had been fiddling with your stuff while you were away. It was only then that you saw the note pinned to the back of the door.

Y/N, this hotel sucks. Got you a room in mine. See you soon , H x

You couldn’t believe what you were reading. That cheeky little bastard didn’t even pre warn you that he’d cleared out your hotel room. You were desperate for a cold shower after the heat of the concert. Instead, you got changed quickly and scrubbed your makeup off, hoping that would make you feel a little fresher. Harry hadn’t even left you clean panties to change into.

—

Barging into his hotel room with the note still in your hand, you were half surprised to even see Harry standing there. You assumed he’d still be a while, but then, he didn’t have to battle through the crowds to leave the stadium. “There you are,” he grinned, so much more relaxed than you’d seen him a few hours ago. You flapped the note in the air, unable to even find words to question him. “Hey,” he started, stalking towards you slowly. “You can’t stay there alone, I don’t trust that place one bit. I put all your stuff in your room- it’s just one floor down from here.” You calmed down slightly at that, not even sure why you were so worked up to begin with. He was right, your hotel was the lowest of the low. “Thank you,” you mumbled, looking up at him. Harry was standing right in front of you now, wearing only a thin t shirt and the gym shorts from yesterday. He looked exhausted, but totally wired.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he whispered, barely audible above the hum of the music he had playing. “Are you kidding?!” You replied, eyes lighting up as a grin stretched across your face. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” you laughed, poking a finger into Harry’s muscular chest. He grabbed your hand when you didn’t move it away, looking into your eyes with parted lips. His own eyes were darkened, his pupils blown with a look you couldn’t quite place. They dragged up and down from your eyes to your mouth, and just being subject to his gaze lit a fire in your core. He was animalistic. Harry traced along your jaw with his free hand, tentatively as if waiting to be stopped. Only, you didn’t stop him. You weren’t sure you could speak, even if you wanted to.

He let go of your wrist and ran both of his hands through his damp hair, before wiping down his face with his right hand. Harry took a step closer, his big frame overshadowing you as you stepped back until your hips hit the kitchen counter. Please, please let this go as far as I want it to, you silently prayed, wishing Harry could read your mind right now. He was still looking down at you, his firm chest rising and falling quickly. You placed a gentle hand against his pec, checking his eyes for any sign as to his next move. Harry merely cocked his head in response, as if trying to figure you out too. “Harry, please,” you moaned softly, hoping this would be all the permission he needed to have his wicked way with you.

Almost instantly, his hands were under your thighs, scooping you up and placing you on the countertop. He tilted your chin up and looked over your face one more time before his lips smashed into yours, starting a battle of tongues, teeth and lips. You wrapped an arm around his broad shoulder, allowing his tongue further into your mouth. Harry’s teeth tugged at your lower lip as he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. You were panting, half from the lack of air but mostly from the heat in your belly. You mentally scolded him for not leaving you clean panties as they were double soaked now. You wrapped your ankles around his hips, pulling him closer into you until your cores connected. His thick shaft poked your inner thigh, leaving you moaning and crumbling in front of him. “You had me going crazy all night,” Harry moaned against your mouth, pushing his hands up and under your t-shirt. He kneaded your soft breasts as if they were warm dough, pinching your nipple as his lips moved down to your neck. His name tumbled out of your mouth over and over again, Harry, Harry, Harry, ringing around your head as he got to work on your body.

He stepped back, tilting your head up again to look him in the eyes as his fingers wrapped around the waistband of your shorts and panties. You gave him a small nod, knowing he’d take that as your consent to do whatever he fancied with you. Harry whipped them off in one go, his cock twitching at the sight of you. Your lips were swollen and pink, pupils blown with lust. He could see the wetness glistening between your folds, looking beyond inviting. His fingers trailed up your thigh, circling your button before slipping between your folds. Your head fell to his shoulder as he pushed in and out of you, stroking at your sweet spot. Your walls were tightening around his knuckles already, so much pent up pleasure pushing you close to your climax already.

“So close already, sweet girl?” Harry drawled, peppering kisses down your throat. You could only moan in response, feeling a ball of heat deep in your core. He slipped another finger in, rubbing on your button with his thumb, desperate to coax you to your high. “Right there Harry, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you panted, screwing up your eyes as he bought you closer. “Look at me, Y/N, look in my eyes as you come,” Harry warned, his tone stern yet breathy. The minute you looked up at him, your orgasm flooded over you. Your thighs were shaking as you called out his name through pants, a hand gripping the back of his thick curls.

He kept his fingers moving inside you, slower now as you came down from your high, before rubbing a hand along your waist. “You needed that, huh? Did so good for me baby,” he spoke softly, pressing kisses into your jawline. “I’m gonna take you to the bed now, okay?” He asked, pushing your hair out of your face. You simply nodded, unable to speak after such a fast and heavy orgasm.

Harry slipped off his shirt before sliding an arm under you and gripping you tight, carrying you over to the giant bed. He laid you down gently in the centre of the bed, kicking off his shorts and boxers. Your eyes were drawn to his groin as he gave himself a quick stroke, his erection bouncing up to smack the centre of his laurels. He was big. Bigger than he felt pressed against you, maybe bigger than you’d ever seen. “Fuck,” he groaned, looking down at you with his lips rolled into his mouth. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m clean, Harry. And I’m on birth control,” you offered. Harry grinned. He wouldn’t normally go raw, he knew the risks all too well. But man, did he want to. He could already feel the way your walls would stretch around him, the sheer pleasure of splitting you in two with no barrier in the way. It was risky, but he’d already taken enough risks with you. One more wouldn’t hurt.

He climbed on top of you, resting one hand to the left of your shoulder. Guiding his cock to your folds, he moaned at the slightest touch. You’d had him hard for so long now, Harry knew he wouldn’t last long when he finally got inside you. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips as he pushed his head inside of you. He took the first few inches slow, reeling from how tight you were around him. “Let me know if it’s too much, okay pet?” He looked deep into your eyes as you nodded, throwing an arm around his neck. “More, please Harry,” you whimpered, using one foot to nudge the back of his thigh. “You wanna take it all, princess? Gonna get fucked so good by daddy’s cock?”

You moaned louder at his words, pure filth tumbling out of his dirty, dirty mouth. Harry bottomed out inside you, throwing his head back in relief. He had every intention of starting off slow and careful, but after pulling out, his first thrust was already hard and sloppy. He needed you too badly to waste time warming you up. “You feel so good baby, never had someone so tight around me.” He rocked into you quickly, his free hand gripping onto yours. You had no idea sex could ever feel as good as it did right now. His cock was filling every inch of you, forcing satisfaction into places you’d never felt before. “Harry, fuck-“ you whined, “I’m close.”

“Come for me, I want you to come baby.” His groin was rubbing against your clit, your pleasure threatening to spill out of you again. You looked up at him, just as he’d requested before, and stretched your neck to press sloppy kisses along his collarbone. Your body started to tense up again, you could feel your walls clenching around his shaft. You writhed under him, this orgasm more intense than you’d ever had. “Fuck baby, fuck. Where do you want me to come?” He stuttered, throwing everything left in his body into thrusting in and out of you as you came down from your high. “Inside me, please, fuck Harry.” You panted, clawing into the back of his neck. He wasted no time in painting your walls with his come, his thrusts becoming sloppy and half-arsed as he cried out your name.

—

“You didn’t have to do that, you know. I wasn’t expecting it or anything,” you spoke softly, moving your head to look up at Harry. He only wrapped his arm around you tighter, pressing a kiss into the top of your head. “I know. I wanted to.” He replied, pulling the duvet on top of you both with his free hand. “Seemed like you wanted it too,” he smirked, nestling his chin into your hair. You slapped his chest playfully, eyes heavy after your long night. You both fell asleep like that, tangled up in each other, wearing nothing but a pair of pants each.

part three

[exilethegame]

Do you have a list of the ROs and like a description of them :( can't find it

I have one floating about somewhere, but here's an up-to-date one! :)

Vethna Mevnrael (they/them) Appearance: 5’9, skin the color of bronze with long wavy hair that’s only a few shades darker than their skin. Their eyes are a greyed-out blue-green and glow in the darkness due to magic. They wear a deep v-neck black gown with golden embroidery, an outrageous amount of rings and jewelry, and their signature wine-red lipstick. Background: Vethna hails from Vygrand-- otherwise known as the sworn rival land of your home country. Where you have been raised to resent most, if not all magic, they have been raised to thrive on it. You don't know much about them-- just that they're on the run from someone, something, powerful, and you're the only one who can protect them. That, and they have a whole lot of gold... almost as much as they have secrets.

Nikke Ivante (he/him) Appearance: 6’0, pale green skin and covered in iridescent scales. Purple bags sit under his pale green eyes, which, like all mythosi, glow in the darkness. Wears smudged black kohl across his eyes. His hair is long, half shaved, and braided, mostly black with streaks of white. His tongue is forked and his sharp fangs often protrude from out past his lips. His arms are covered in tattoos of snakes winding downwards, and on his neck sit geometric tattoos. Background: Nikke has been sent to kill you or kidnap you-- you're not entirely sure which it is, and you don't intend to find out. He's crude and sarcastic and overall a brute. He doesn't seem to take his own life seriously, nonetheless yours, and you have no doubt he's going to capture you or die trying. Hell-- maybe he'll just kill you both while he's at it... you know, for fun.

Jost Ivante (she/her) (Not romanceable in demo yet) Appearance: 6’0 with pale green skin and iridescent scales. Her features are sharp and she has multiple piercings, the most notable being her bridge piercing and snake-bites. She has tattoos down her arms and on her neck in geometric patterns. Her hair is waist-length and slicked back and filled with braids and tokens, and just like her brother, is streaked with white. While she wears dark paint over her eyes, it’s done in a manner much neater than Nikke’s. Background: Jost is Nikke's identical twin sister-- and, if possible, she's twice as mean and just as rude. She's more ruthless than her brother, but she doesn't quite have the fighting power to back up her venom-laced threats and taunts. Nonetheless, she fights dirty, and if you want to beat her, you're going to have to be smart.

Amilia Von Clamile (she/her) Appearance: 5’3 with snow white skin and blood red hair that’s poorly cut and uneven, coming to her chin on one shoulder and sitting well past her collarbone on the other. Her eyes are green and her face is covered in freckles. A deep scar juts into her lip on the right side of her face and runs down her jaw and neck. Background: Amilia's a fae-- the very kind of mythosi you've been raised to fear and have spent most of your life killing. She's all smiles and nerves, but you see something else in her eyes, sometimes. Something cold. Something calculative. Everyone seems keen to turn a blind eye to her, but you know a liar when you see one... don't you?

Syfyn Javall (she/her) Appearance: 5’11 with warm toned skin that’s often burnt red, leaving splotchy tans along her body. Her eyes are a steely grey, hair blonde and cut to barely brush against her shoulders. She tries to often wear it up despite this, resulting in most of the hair falling out messily. She's covered in scars with feathers in her hair, and her pupils are slits. Her teeth are all mostly sharp. Background: Syfyn Javall, The Brazen Griffin, Second-in-Command to the Plaithian Army. She used to work beneath you once-- used to fight beside you and honor you both as a comrade and friend. You grew up together within the military. When you had nobody, you had each other. But then you betrayed her-- or maybe she betrayed you. You don't know who started what, but you do know that the blood is on both of your hands now.

Sabir Du Vaelas (he/him) Appearance: 6’1 with dark, cool toned skin, black eyes, and long black hair kept in locs. He wears expensive robes that are a deep teal and is covered head to toe in expensive silver jewelry, most of which is covered in snake symbolism. Sabir's ears are pierced in several areas, and he tends to wear silver eyeliner and highlight. Background: Sabir, otherwise known as The Silven Viper, Eye of Plaithus, used to be your charge. He's a politician-- one of the better ones, if such a thing exists. Your past together was volatile-- perhaps you were lovers, or friends, or enemies. Either way, he saved your life when you otherwise would've been put to death by the state, and you owe him thanks for that much.

Freedom (gender selectable) Appearance: 6′0 with pallid, paper-white skin and bronze eyes that appear to almost be filled with a shimmering liquid. Their hair is waist-length and black with an iridescent sheen to it, long black claws bordering on talons on their hands. They wear long, tight fitting black robes. Background: You hear its voice sometimes, when it's quiet and you're alone. You try to tune it out. You try to ignore it. It forces you to remember things. To feel things. It's within you, wiggling and writhing, waiting for the right moment to attack. At times it feels predatory. At others, its presence is comforting-- protective and doting. It'll become whatever you want it to be. It'll become whatever you need it to be.

[themongrelcatcamehome-blog]

welcome to the party. try the punch.

Synopsys: A new type of trafficking begins to take place in Zaun. Commander Caitlyn Kiramman plans to attend the party where the trade agreement will be celebrated. But something – or someone – wasn’t part of her plans.

tags: smut, thigh riding, strap, switch and i don't know how this works it's my very first fanfic.

Caitlyn had read the full report. She found out that Baroness Velveteen's party would take place that night. She quickly came up with a plan and decided it would be a two-person mission.  

She called Officer Maddie, who wasn’t her brightest soldier, but she was the most passionate, and that would suffice.  

The plan was to enter the party wearing masks and accessories that would cover any very obvious features. Maddie’s orange hair and freckles were well known to the criminals of Zaun. And Caitlyn’s black-blue hair would attract attention from some.  

With the plan more or less complete and Maddie on standby, Caitlyn dressed in a way she normally wouldn’t.  

Many months earlier, she had traveled to the Bilgewater. The idea was to negotiate military weapons with the local police. At the time, Caitlyn was determined to live a little more outside of the police force, so she frequented some bars and tried the famous Bilgewater rum. In one of those bars, she saw a woman dressed in a way she would never forget. It was that kind of impact Caitlyn wanted to create at the Zaunite party. Seducing the right baroness would be the shortest path to achieving the mission’s objective: to arrest the person responsible for illegal alcohol trafficking and crack down on any facilitators of international trafficking of drugs.

Caitlyn told Maddie that they wouldn’t be going together and that they wouldn’t speak during the party. Her clear instruction to the young soldier was: if my tracker stops sending a signal to your receiver or if I stop moving for more than ten minutes, call in your troops and search for me.  

Maddie was aware and ready for the mission.  

Caitlyn took a long bath, washed her hair, and moisturized her skin as best as she could. She brushed her hair back and braided it into a long fishtail braid.  

The mask she chose was one that mimicked a mythical artifact called Lyandre. It looked like something out of a play: white with green and red details.  

For her outfit, Caitlyn decided to wear a red dress with a traditional Ionian cut: it cinched at the waist, had buttons all the way up to the neck, and reached halfway down her thighs. She chose not to wear any stockings. Her holster was across her chest, and her two smaller pistols were equipped.  

For shoes, she wore short and extravagant boots. The perfect excuse to wear footwear suitable for running, if necessary.  

The lingerie Caitlyn chose was a simple but elegant black lace set.

Caitlyn was ready.  

Upon arriving at the party—slightly late, which was part of the disguise— the commander already smelled like Zaun. She had stopped by a bar beforehand and sat on some old sofas to drink two beers. She took the opportunity to inform Maddie that, from that moment on, her location would need to be monitored. Maddie was already at the party.

At the entrance, she was greeted by a woman dressed in feathers. Her entire face was covered in very bright stones. She asked Caitlyn: "Guest of someone?"  

Caitlyn was prepared. She responded, "Don't insult me. Move."

Immediately, the woman moved to the left and nodded to Caitlyn.  

Inside, there were people from all corners of Runeterra. Yordles, Vastaya, humanoids... Most using shimmer. That alone would have been enough to arrest quite a few people, but the Piltover police had bigger concerns than the recreational use of a cheap drug.  

Caitlyn ordered a drink at the bar, and the bartender said, "The special tab is upstairs. Here, we only serve the usual."  

Caitlyn thanked him with a nod. Her outfit was working. She looked like she was from Ionia.  

Upon reaching the stairs to the mezzanine, a Vastaya guard asked, "Guest of someone?"  

And Caitlyn needed a more convincing answer this time. She was quick.  

"When the star of the party arrives, tell her she's my guest."

The young man twitched his ears, widened his eyes, and handed Caitlyn a card for consumption in the second booth of the mezzanine.  

Vi was in the seventh booth. Dressed in a simple yet elegant suit, her role at the party was to ensure that Madame Babette wouldn’t be disturbed by anything.  

The party was a celebration of the success of the Bilgewater rum brought by Velveteen, her business partner. Vi didn’t care about any moral implications. She was only interested in payment and having fun.  

Since Velveteen hadn’t yet arrived, Vi was acting like a regular guest: drinking, smoking a few cigarettes, and flirting with half the women in the mezzanine.  

One of them, very young and wearing a mask that covered her entire head, asked Vi if there was any drink she would suggest, something lighter. Vi called over the humanoid waitress and ordered a drink for the young woman. The waitress didn’t seem happy but nodded and brought the drink. It was a mimosa made with a citrus fruit from Bandlecity. The woman took the drink from the tray and took a sip.  

“Very tasty, really different!”  

The waitress shot a piercing look at Vi and said, "She should try the punch," as she left, in a bad mood.

The young woman asked:  

- What was that about?  

- You know, we have a history.  

- A history that involves punches or the wine punch?

Vi straightened up and scratched the back of her neck with her right hand. As she did, the opening of her suit at chest level widened, revealing that Vi wasn’t wearing anything under her suit.  

The woman blushed beneath her mask, her face heating up with every second she stared at Vi’s chest, and Vi said:  

- Want to find out?

Before any more words could be exchanged between them, Vi heard a noise coming from booth 7.  

There was no time to say goodbye to the young woman. Vi ran toward the entrance, only to realize it was just a Yordle popping a champagne bottle.  

When she returned to the mezzanine corridor, the woman she had been flirting with had vanished.  

Caitlyn had stiffened at the noise but soon relaxed. Her booth was enormous, featuring a half-moon-shaped velvet sofa that was extremely comfortable. Everything was impeccably clean. In the center  was a table with a built-in fridge and various types of drinks. The booth was enclosed, like a mini private lounge, and the curtains could be moved with a button next to the sofa. It felt strange to be in a closed space inside a nightclub, but Caitlyn understood that the patrons here valued privacy for committing their crimes—and other things.

Caitlyn left the mezzanine door open because the heat was getting almost uncomfortable, and she had already undone two buttons on her dress. The same waitress moved between the booths and approached Caitlyn.

“Madame, would you like something from our tobacco selection?”

The woman held out three containers: one with a glimmering substance in a golden pipe, another with a bluish herb, and the third was a pack of cigarettes. Caitlyn declined all three and requested a glass of ice.

The waitress shrugged and went to fetch the order. Just past the door of the booth, she stopped to chat with someone. Caitlyn ignored it until she heard a familiar voice.

“Are you sure she’s foreign?” Vi asked.

“Of course. She speaks differently, denied all the stash and asked for ice. Who in their right mind drinks ice from Zaun?”

Caitlyn grew anxious at the conversation, unfsure if this would catch Vi’s attention or if her cover was on the verge of being blown. She continued sitting, sipping Bilgewater rum, and watching the party below.

Before she could dwell further on the implications of the conversation, a loud noise erupted directly beneath her booth.

It was applause. Velveteen had arrived.

Caitlyn prepared to go down and complete the second part of her mission: to find a way to get close to the baroness in a friendly manner. Caitlyn knew of her preferences for foreigners, so she intended to use her disguise to her advantage. She spotted Velveteen heading toward the mezzanine entrance, but before she could continue observing the baroness, she felt her feet leave the ground, a sudden movement towards her back and her entire body moving toward the velvet couch.

“You think you’re clever, Cupcake?”

Vi was holding Caitlyn by the neck, having taken her down with a single move. She patted Caitlyn’s torso, searching for weapons, and removed her pistols, stuffing them into the fridge. Caitlyn grunted, struggling to free herself from Vi’s chokehold, but before she could think of screaming, the DJ started his set.

Vi loosened her grip slightly—just enough for Caitlyn to speak without coughing. Caitlyn raised her hands in surrender and said, “I don’t want anything to do with you or your psycho sister. I’m here for Velveteen.”

“I know. But Velveteen is a guest of my employer, and well, Cupcake, that’s not going to happen.”

“If you don’t stop calling me Cupcake, we’re going to have a problem.”

“Oh, really, commander? And what exactly can you do from there?”

Vi tightened her chokehold again, crossing her legs over Caitlyn’s thighs. “I could easily kill you now, and they’d only know when I wanted them to.”

“Violet, Violet… If you haven’t moved on, we can talk.”

Despite the difficulty in speaking, Caitlyn couldn’t miss the chance to tease her ex-lover.

“Come on, Violet. Admit you’ve missed me.”

Vi released the chokehold and yanked off Caitlyn’s mask. Looking at the commander, she saw that Caitlyn was smiling and mocking the situation. Caitlyn adjusted herself as best she could in Vi’s lap, taking the chance to massage her own neck, sore from the chokehold.

“I should have just taken you down, but one day I’ll learn.”

Vi let go of Caitlyn completely. She retrieved the pistols from the fridge, removed the ammunition, and threw them out the door. The empty pistols went into the trash, leaving Caitlyn defenseless.

Vi opened a beer from the minibar, leaned back comfortably on the sofa, and began to drink.

“If you want to act like my guest, at least sit properly.” said Cait.

Vi sat with her legs spread, beer in her right hand and her left resting on her knee.

“I’m thinking, Cait.”

“About what?”

“You weren’t supposed to be here. I didn’t plan on seeing you today.”

“I don’t think about you enough to keep you out of my plans, but it’s nice to know you’re alive, Violet.”

“And they say you have no sense of humor…”

The waitress stopped in front of the mezzanine and asked if she could come in. Vi stood, took the glass of ice from the tray, and said, “Thanks.” The waitress had no time to react.

Watching Vi standing, Caitlyn noticed that Vi was well dressed, but something about her outfit caught her attention. Vi had her back turned as she briefly interacted with the waitress, and Caitlyn saw two straps crossed across the back of Vi's waist. Her muscular butt was showing in the silhouette of her pants.

“Did you come to work or to have fun?”

“They’re the same to me. Work can be fun, but you know nothing about that.”

Vi turned toward Caitlyn, she was sweating from the brief fight, her pants weren't tight, but Cait knew what Vi was wearing.

Caitlyn tried to shake off the thoughts running through her mind. She needed to stay focused on the mission.

Vi set the beer on the table and leaned toward Caitlyn.

“Cupcake, I’m closing the door.”

Caitlyn tried to stand quickly but wobbled to the side, grabbing the edge of the sofa. The chokehold and drink had affected her body, and she was still recovering from the dizziness. She sat back down on the sofa and undid another button of her dress.

Standing, Vi approached Caitlyn and placed her cold hand on the commander’s forehead. Caitlyn felt a chill run through her whole body, unsure if it was from the cold or…

“Come on, Cait. I didn’t even squeeze that hard. It was almost like foreplay…”

“Shut up, Violet. You caught me off guard, that’s all. Is already passing.”

And it was true. Caitlyn was hot for a different reason now.

“Cupcake, I’m on the clock. And as much as you love my company, I need to work.”

Vi adjusted her pants, pulling the waistband up to her bellybutton. As she did, her strap became visible against her pants. Caitlyn gulped. Vi adjusted the lapel of her suit jacket and said, “When my shift ends, I’ll decide if I’ll come back here.”

Caitlyn didn’t give Vi a chance to react. When Vi leaned down to press the door button, Caitlyn grabbed her arm and twisted her into a perfect arm lock. Vi let out a loud grunt.

“Your shift just started, Violet.”

Caitlyn remained seated almost comfortably on the couch. As she tried to sit Vi between her legs on the floor, the sofa seemed to expand a little. Vi's hair smelled of smoke, alcohol, and shampoo. She was wearing a light fragrance, probably some kind of body lotion. Her sweat blended perfectly with all the scents, and Caitlyn felt she might get dizzy again.

She continued pressing her back against the backrest, tightening the arm lock without realizing.

“Damn it! Are you trying to break my arm?!”

Caitlyn released the hold. Vi immediately began massaging her shoulder and part of her back. As she did it, her scent grew stronger and Caitlyn caught a glimpse of a small part of her back. Caitlyn was kneeling behind Vi to apply more force to the hold she had been using. As she saw Vi’s back muscles tense under the suit, she sat with her legs around Vi’s hips. She held Vi’s right arm close to her own chest and whispered in her ear,“Did you miss me, Violet?”

Vi felt a shiver run through her entire body, stopping at her neck. She touched Caitlyn’s hand with her free hand.

“Oh, Cait. You don’t want to do this.”

Caitlyn didn't let Vi finish her sentence. She pressed her face into Vi's neck, kissing and biting her ear. Vi squirmed a bit but made no sound. Caitlyn started kissing the other side of her neck and bit Vi's ear harder. As she kissed her neck, Caitlyn held Vi's chin with one hand and slid the other across her chest. Vi's suit was damp with sweat, which only turned Caitlyn on even more. As she nibbled, she felt Vi's nipple harden under her touch, and Vi finally let out a moan. Caitlyn released Vi's chin and moved her hand to her neck.

"Not so tough now, are you?"

Caitlyn put her hand on Vi's neck, a gentle but firm grip. Vi took a deep breath. With her free hand, Caitlyn unbuttoned the suit and slid her hand down to her stomach, it was firm and had a perfect six-pack. Vi started moving her hips, trying to reach Caitlyn’s hand.

"Take off your pants," Caitlyn ordered.

Vi unbuttoned her pants and pulled them down to her knees. She was wearing black boxer-style underwear. The shape of her strap was visible, and her toned abs glistened with sweat.

Caitlyn continued watching over Vi’s shoulders. Now with both hands, she slid them over her chest, stomach, and the waistband of her underwear. Vi moaned, trying to guide Caitlyn's right hand toward her inner thigh. Caitlyn then began running her hands down Vi's thighs. Her nails moved lightly, sending chills over Vi's skin. She dug her nail into her right thigh, scratching her smooth skin a little. Vi's thigh turned slightly red, and Caitlyn caressed it for a while longer.

"Cait, please...", moaned Vi.

Caitlyn slipped her right hand into Vi's underwear, gently tugging it down to reveal the strap. Then she nudged the strap slightly aside to reach Vi's wetness.

“Is that all for me, Violet?”

Vi moaned a “Yes” without even realizing she was speaking. But Caitlyn didn't stay too long there. 

Caitlyn ran two fingers over Vi's entrance and brought them to her mouth. Vi licked the commander’s fingers, gently biting the tips. Caitlyn brushed the same fingers over Vi's nipples, causing her to shiver as if a wave of electricity was coursing through her body. Vi squirmed, her hips moving rhythmically. Her thick, muscular thigh was becoming increasingly tense. Caitlyn ran her fingers again on Vi’s clit in a gentle circular motion, sliding her fingers down to the entrance and gathering some of Vi's wetness. She then proceeded to put the same two fingers in Vi’s mouth again, prompting Vi to suck them. As the pink-haired started suckling her fingers, Caitlyn started rubbing her pussy on Vi’s back. As her breathing rhythm increased, she tapped Vi’s mouth and grabbed her left breast with a firm grip. 

Caitlyn rose from her position and moved in front of Vi. She pushed Vi onto the couch, telling her to keep watching.

Caitlyn unbuttoned the rest of her dress and slipped off her shoes. Vi was almost completely undressed. She tried to reach out and pull Caitlyn toward her, but Caitlyn dodged her grasp.

Caitlyn knelt in front of Vi. Vi sat back on the sofa, gently touching Caitlyn's face and pulling her closer. They shared an urgent, sloppy kiss and Caitlyn let out a moan as she tasted Vi’s cum on her mouth. She realized she was salivating, and a bit of it dripped onto Vi's abdomen.

“Don't waste it there,” Vi murmured.

Caitlyn began licking and kissing Vi's abdomen, moving up to her chest, lingering on her hardened nipples as she teased them with her tongue. Circular motions, up and down, biting and kissing them.  Vi closed her eyes, moaning softly, her hands caressing Caitlyn's shoulders as she opened Cait's bra and messed her braid.

Caitlyn felt Vi's strap pressing against her breasts, trying to keep herself composed. She resumed licking along Vi's stomach, hesitating at her inner thigh before trailing her tongue over Vi’s legs. Rising up, she held Vi’s chin, teasing her, bringing her face close to her cunt, as if to spark her desire even more. Vi tried to kiss it, but Caitlyn held back.

Caitlyn pulled her own underwear aside and lowered herself onto Vi's thigh.

“Violet, I'm so…”

Vi secretly enjoyed hearing Caitlyn say her full name. Something about her accent made everything even more thrilling, and the commanding tone just made Vi want her more.

As Caitlyn rode Vi's thigh, Vi held her back with her left hand and used her right hand to grip Caitlyn’s ass, pressing her body down closer against her thigh. Caitlyn’s entire body moved rhythmically. By now, her hair was loose, and she tried to tuck it behind her ear as she moved. 

"Leave it. You look so beautiful."

And Caitlyn kissed Vi like her mouth was the last thing she’d ever experience. She kissed, moaned, and panted against Vi’s lips, biting them each time Vi squeezed her harder. Vi lifted her leg slightly, pressing even more against the commander's cunt. She started kissing and sucking Caitlyn's breasts. Caitlyn threw her head back and moaned Vi’s name. Vi started moving her thigh, her muscles rubbing against the commander's pussy. Noticing Caitlyn’s movements speeding up, Vi knew her climax was near. So, she intentionally eased up on the pressure, and Caitlyn turned to her with a mix of frustration and longing.

"Don’t stop!"

"Look at me." Said Vi, as she pressed her thigh harder this time, steady and slow, adjusting Caitlyn’s panties aside a bit more. Her thigh was so wet that Caitlyn slid even more easily. The friction against Caitlyn’s clit and Vi’s thigh muscles along with the steady rhythm was driving them wild. Caitlyn braced both hands on Vi’s shoulders, sliding a few more times before settling onto her strap.

Vi leaned back on her elbows to watch Caitlyn ride. Their bodies were hot, almost igniting from the heat between them. Caitlyn held her panties to the side, her other hand resting on Vi’s thigh as she leaned back. Cait had to wipe her hand on her own thigh, since Vi's thigh was slippery. The way she moved, her hips rocking forward and back, even lightly brushing against Vi’s sensitive spot left Vi barely able to contain herself… But she had plans for later.

Vi took over holding Caitlyn’s nearly-torn panties, flexing her own hips to thrust deeper. Caitlyn leaned forward, her hands on Vi's abs and breasts. Her mind swirled as she moved faster, her climax drawing near. Vi was mesmerized, watching Caitlyn’s hips, her body moving forward. She couldn’t take her eyes off her pussy. Caitlyn’s head fell back as she started to climax on Vi’s strap, moving so fast that Vi had to hold the strap in place. Caitlyn’s body tensed, arching forward as she moaned, locking eyes with Vi. When her body relaxed, she collapsed onto Vi’s chest.

"Stay inside me a little longer."

Vi kissed Caitlyn’s head, inhaling her scent, fighting the urge to jerk herself off on Caitlyn's body. As Caitlyn’s heartbeat slowed, she gently pulled the strap out and adjusted her underwear. Vi chuckled, giving Caitlyn’s ass one last squeeze.

Caitlyn moved to the center of the room, searching for water and ended up taking a swig from Vi’s beer.

Vi finished removing her pants and as she was about to unstrap herself, Caitlyn pulled the straps, tightening them against Vi's skin. When Cait saw the muscles in Vi's hip bulging from the pressure of the straps, she loosened them slightly so Vi could feel the bite she was about to give. Vi tried to hold steady, but her balance was starting to falter. When she finished unstrapping Vi, Caitlyn stood up to kiss her. Their bodies stayed close, Caitlyn feeling each muscle in Vi’s back, running her hands over her arms, whispering compliments as they held each other tightly. As Cait touched Vi's ass, she felt the pink-haired leaning towards her as she rubbed her cunt on Cait.

Cait then proceeds to kiss Vi's neck, mouth, breasts, circling her tongue on her nipples and going back to her mouth.

As they kissed, Caitlyn pulled Vi's hair and whisper in her ear:

I want you to cum in my mouth.

Vi felt her vision blur, seeing colorful flashes even with her eyes closed. A growing wave of nervousness surged up her temples. She felt her face flush and couldn’t help but let out a subtle hiss. Something shifted inside and she was so horny that even a gentle movement on her sensitive spot could trigger an orgasm. She exasperated and tried to control herself. 

Vi tried to lay on the couch, but Cait grabbed her waist and said with a smirk:

"I want you to stand up," Caitlyn commanded, running her fingers teasingly along Vi’s folds but skipping her clit, just enough to ignite her. Vi's legs began to falter, trembling under Caitlyn’s touch.

Vi pulled Caitlyn’s hair, locking eyes with her. "Stop torturing me. And don’t waste a drop."

Caitlyn laughed; she was so wet. She slid her fingers along Vi's folds again, then brought them to her mouth biting her cheeks gently as Vi tasted herself.

Caitlyn hastily tied her hair up, kissed and sucked Vi’s nipples, then worked her way down to her abs, licking and kissing along her toned stomach before kneeling in front of her.

Vi couldn't control her reactions, shivers coursing through her body, her legs still shaky. She tried to steady herself against the couch, but it was too low. Caitlyn noticed and pushed her back against the wall, adjusting her hair as she looked up at Vi with an eager, heated gaze.

Vi placed one hand on her stomach and the other on Caitlyn's face. Seeing Piltover's most stuck-up commander on her knees was driving her wild. When Vi tried to pull Caitlyn’s face closer to her pussy, Caitlyn playfully bit her hand. Then, without further delay, Caitlyn’s mouth finally met Vi’s clit, drawing a deep moan from her. Caitlyn alternated between licking and sucking as Vi pushed her head closer to go deeper. Caitlyn resisted the urge to smile, not wanting to break the rhythm.

She spreaded Vi’s folds gently with her fingers and buried her mouth on Vi's clit once more. She felt Vi's body tense against the wall and knew it wasn’t fair that the wall got to feel all of Vi’s spasms. Pulling her slightly forward, Caitlyn placed a hand on Vi’s ass, feeling her muscles contract as Vi thrust her hips forward. Her other hand rested on Vi's thigh.

Knowing she wouldn’t last much longer, Vi spread her legs a bit wider, gripping Caitlyn’s hair and guiding her head firmly against her clit, each movement faster. As her orgasm approached, she relaxed her muscles, letting Caitlyn feel the wetness, drawing out the last seconds of her buildup. Glancing down, she saw Caitlyn’s eyes: they were wide open and focused on Vi’s gaze. Caitlyn pulled her head back briefly, a proud smirk tugging at her lips, a line of cum coming off Vi's pussy. She remained looking at Vi’s eyes. The fluid now on her lips only. Cait’s lips were gleaming. She licked it away, swallowed, and resumed. Moments later, Vi’s body tensed, her back pressing into the wall as she gasped, "Oh my god… Cait…"

Vi pushed Cait's head deeper, trying to enjoy every second of it. She felt when Caitlyn opened her mouth and moved her jaw a little bit lower and started tasting her warm, freshly released cum.

Caitlyn couldn’t contain her pride, thrilled to have made Vi come so intensely. Her chin was drenched, and she took in every drop of Vi’s release.

Standing, she kissed Vi deeply. Vi, still catching her breath, ran her hands over Caitlyn’s back as she kissed her back.

"We could stay here all night," Vi murmured.

"I’d stay here as long as you’d have me, Violet."

They both knew it was different between them, that no other woman could compare to what they shared. But they were also aware of the differences and baggage that stood in their way.

"We can stay a while longer. Then you can punch me, and life will go back to normal, Cupcake."

As Caitlyn relished the softness of Vi’s embrace, an urgent knock on her door interrupted them.

"Who is it?" Caitlyn asked.

"Commander Kiramman? Reinforcements are here!”

[rhiaarrow]

My favorite headcanon about the eggs will always be that they took on the attributes of their parents

But thinking about what each egg took from each parent got me thinking, what did the eggs look like when they first arrived then?

Today's 7am ramble is about how I imagine the og 4 eggs (Chay, Dapper, Leo, Ramón) appearance changed over time and what attributes they took from their parents! :D

Were the first 8 practically identical at first?

In my opinion, yes!

The first few weeks of the egg event everyone kept mixing up the eggs names and forgetting which egg belonged to which parent which of course was just because they were new and no one had memorized it yet.

But why not add a canonical reason for people mix ups?

Everyone was just identifying them by their personal accessories because when the first 8 were delivered they were practically identical.

All small children with tan skin, similar face shapes and the same bright yellowish eyes. The only obvious appearance difference was their hair. All different lengths, styles and shades of brunette.

But they were ALL brunettes to begin with.

(all the dead eggs are commonly depicted as brunettes as well so this adds to it, they died before taking on a lot of their parents attributes)

Now, the first really obvious change that had the Islanders noticing the subtle changes in their own kids was when one day Dapper just suddenly no longer had iris's or pupils.

She just had white sclera blinking back at people and they were clearly his Dad's eyes. Then when they looked closed to see if anything else had changed they realized that both Dapper's skin and hair had darkened a fair few shades when put in comparison with his siblings obviously making to become pure black in both areas like Bad.

But hold on, now that they were comparing hair, they noticed that Chayanne's hair had lightened by quite a few shades. It was now a very light golden brunette, clearly turning blonde like his Dad, and under the skull mask you could no longer see yellow eyes looking back at you. So they removed the mask and sure enough his eyes were the exact opposite of Dapper, just pure Black sclera like his Papa Missa.

And wait, Leo's eyes were purple now! Unlike his siblings she still had her iris's and pupils but the iris's were now a rich purple like his Pa Vegettas and their hair had started to darken too. Closer in color to Dapper's hair, both of them clearly developing black hair like their Dads.

On first inspection Ramón didn't seem to have changed at all. His skin and hair were still the same shades as they had been when he arrived but later that day, when tucking Ramón in for the night, Fit realized that the sleepy eyes looking back at him were the exact same color as the ones he saw in the mirror. The same strange concoction of green and brown that he'd never bothered to find out the name for. And if Fit got choked up over that when he went to his own bedroom for the night, well no one needed to know.

Overtime there were far more obvious changes and also subtle changes that went completely unnoticed.

Chayanne's tail scales shed then instead of growing a new set he grew in a thick plumage, so rather than the lizard-like tail he used to have it he now had tail feathers that matched his father's hidden wings.

Dapper's tail shed the scales entirely until only the base remained, thinning into a long line as the end began to grow and change overtime until she had a forked tail just like her father.

Leo's tail did the opposite, growing in size and the scales became smoother as the end of it began to resemble that of a shark, clearly taking after her Pa Foolich.

Ramón's tail didn't change at all in style, he kept the lizard-like tail they'd all had to begin with, he just adapted to his needs. Fit knew better than anyone that in order to survive it's better to adapt to the hand (pun intended) you're dealt. So he helped Ramón strengthen his tail and work on his motor control until he could hold tools or weapons with the end of his tail, to use the tail as an extension of himself.

In stature, it was pretty obvious that Dapper was starting to take after her Dad when they had their first growth spurt. He shot up a head above his other siblings, still a small child but much taller than the rest. But less noticeably her limbs and body were a lot thinner than the rest, similar to the lean and lanky physique of their demon father.

With the fact that his skin was now pure void black it was easy to miss that her nails had changed into taloned claws and they no longer wore shoes since they'd developed hoof/paw things similar to Bads. Her horns grew to double the size they had been, they grew straight upwards and were sharp at the end just like his fathers.

Chayanne unfortunately did the opposite, having taken up his father's height he stayed practically the same height as his younger triplet siblings all hit their growth spurts. Much like his father, Chayanne was short and sturdy but with the way Dapper was gaining height it didn't matter. Chayanne's own horns stayed the same height they had been but over time they adapted to fit perfectly against the skull mask Chayanne wore.

Ramon and Leo stayed the same height for ages, when one grew so did the other. But then Leo discovered platformed sneakers and since Ramon lived exclusively in steel toed work boots it was easy for Leo to seem taller than her triplet brother, even though they were the exact same height.

In stature Leo stayed the same, no obvious changes at all to her physique but Leo's horns grew slightly and curled backwards over her cap. The most noticeable thing about them though was the fact that the tips of them grew in a vibrant purple, the same color as her eyes.

Ramón did quite obviously take after Fit in his physique but the only one who ever knew that was Fit himself. Ramon wore baggy comfortable clothes all day so no one else knew about the solid muscle mass Ramon had effortlessly gained from repeatedly working with heavy machinery and regularly going to the gym to work out with Fit.

Ramón's own horns however didn't grow at all, in fact they shrunk. With the fact that they were continuously pressed underneath his meathead and goggles they reduced themselves to slightly raised stumps that poked out from under his fringe whenever he took the meathead off. Although he only ever did that when going to sleep, only Fit knew how tiny his horns had become in contrast to how his triplets horns had grown.

I am totally drawing this when I wake up tomorrow, I have thought about this waaaaaaay too much not to at least try to put it on paper.

We will not mention the fact that it's already tomorrow, 8am is a respectable time to fall asleep...yep.

More Miscellaneous Stuff I think the OG eggs picked up;

Leo's skin took on a more golden hue but since she was already tan skinned it was barely noticeable unless she was standing directly in the sun.

Ramón picked up Fit's eyebrows. No particular reason why, he just did. I mean he already had a flawless moustache so why not flawless eyebrows to match?

Chayanne took on Missa's hair texture, making his hair much more volumous than if his hair had been fully taken from Phil.

When Pac officially called Ramón son he took on Pac's pure black pacman shaped eyes which gave Fit a hell of a shock.

Chayanne's ears bent down overtime, he didn't know that they now looked similar to how Piglin hybrid ears did, but Phil did.

Leo developed a strong jawline, not quite as chilzled as her father's but definitely more than her siblings.

[kittenfangirl20]

((Prince and the Duck Au))

Adam had dreamed of being a performer since he was a little kid. His mom and dad always told him to shoot for the stars and follow his dreams.

But of course, being on the lower side of income and having your parents pass away at a young age didn't put Adam in the fortune 500.

By day he worked at a diner as a waiter, at night he moonlighted as orderly at the hospital. He barely made enough to get by. But his best friend since childhood, Emily and her mother Sera helped him out when they could.

To this day Adam still has his father's guitar and hoped to play in a place of his own one day. A restaurant where he could play his music.

The dream was just that a dream. But that was okay.

Until Adam got the chance to get the place of his dreams. An old place down by the water front and he wanted to show Sera. She was the closest he had to mother.

Adam: What do you think!?

Sera looked around, there wasn't much there. More rats than anything.

Sera: It's.... Interesting dear.

Adam: Oh Sera, once I clean the place up it will be great. I'm almost there! I can feel it.

Sera: Oh honey, I don't-

Adam: Just picture it!

Adam went into detail of everything he saw for the place and Sera smiled. She was so proud of him.

Sera: It will be a lot of hard work.

Adam: Always is.

*things were about to change for Adam in a very interesting way with the arrival of a cruise ship, it held twin brothers Lucifer and Michael, they were princes of a very far off kingdom and Lucifer was heir to the throne, but his parents wondered if he was the choice for the job and they told him if he didn’t prove himself responsible then he would be disinherited and Michael would be the heir, Michael watched Lucifer easily flirt with men and women with envy in his heart, everything came easily to Lucifer that he wanted to see him fail, just then he was approached by the richest woman in town Sera with an invitation to the Mardi Gras masquerade ball being held at her mansion tonight*

Michael: While I would gain from your failure, I would think that you would want to actually find a way to prove yourself responsible.

Lucifer: Don’t worry, it is just one masquerade ball, there will be good food and music. How about we relax for one night before I have to do the boring part.

?: Gentlemen, you must be the Princes that everyone in New Orleans was talking about.

*a man with short brown hair, lightly tanned skin, glasses, and dressed in all red stepped out of the shadows, the thing that stood out about him was his unnaturally creepy smile, what they didn’t notice his shadow moving on its own taking on many forms*

Michael: Who are you?

?: Why I am Alastor the Shadow Man and Master of Voodoo, would you like to see your future.

*Alastor started to play with his tarot cards while watching them, Lucifer then shrugged*

Lucifer: Why not?

*Lucifer dragged Michael while they followed Alastor to his shop, the shop was filled with many strange objects dealing with voodoo rituals and a radio playing an eerie yet cheerful tune*

Michael: How does this work?

Alastor: You could say that I have friends on the other side.

*after giving a very accurate reading of both brothers, Lucifer on how his laidback lifestyle was ruining his chances at the throne and how Michael hated being in the shadows of everyone around him, Alastor pulled out a pendant and used it to collect some of Lucifer’s blood and he started to chant a spell which made Lucifer turn into something smaller and covered in feathers, then Alastor turned to Michael asking him if he wanted to be involved in his scheme in taking over New Orleans which Michael agreed to while Lucifer ran away in shock once outside the shop he saw his reflection in a puddle of a white duck with red circles on his cheeks, but also had his top hat on, when he moved his arm in front of his face he instead saw a white wing*

Lucifer: What the fuck.

*at Sera’s manor Adam and Emily were hanging out while Adam popped a beignet into his mouth*

Adam: I should cut back on these, they made me gain a bit of weight.

Emily: There is nothing wrong with you, your cute and round chubby tummy makes you huggable.

*it was true that Adam had put on some weight because of stress, but if you asked anyone who knew him, they actually preferred him this way, he was mostly muscle but his stomach was soft round and chubby, his thighs were nice and thick, and his butt was nice and round*

Adam: The problem is that my costume for the masquerade ball from last year no longer fits me. This performance is important and I am hoping to buy the performance hall and restaurant tonight.

Emily: Don’t worry, your good friend Emily will buy you a fancy new costume.

Adam: You don’t have to.

Emily: I insist, you are my best friend. You know what, you should dress up as a prince tonight.

*they ran off to a high end costume shop where Emily looked through the costumes until she found a prince’s costume in Adam’s size which was dark blue, black, and gold*

Emily: This will look very nice on you. Who knows, you might get a boyfriend or girlfriend tonight.

Adam: I don’t have time for that.

Emily: I want to tell you a secret, tonight royalty is coming to the masquerade ball, as in princes. You might get one to help you on your music career. What if a prince falls in love with me and we get married.

Adam: You always wanted to be a princess,

*both smiled and talked about their dreams while making their way back to Sera’s mansion*

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

(Will Adam’s duck form be like Grumpy and be a girl duck)

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Hold me tight

Eris x OC

Word count: 2100+

Warnings: smut, 18+MDNI

For @erisweekofficial, Day 3: Healing/Betrayal

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

It was only the morning, the beginning of the day, the very first meeting of many and Eris was already tired and had enough. Correcting mistakes of his father and revising all miserable decisions that old man ever did, was so time consuming. It was two months since Eris became the High Lord, yet he didn't get a single moment to stop and just breathe. And the amount of work was increasing with each passing day. It was crazy.

The only reason why he worked so hard, why he could bear with this, was the vision of returning to his chambers to her. His mate. She was the fuel for his fire, the hearth where he could safely crack. He was doing it all for her. To ensure she would be safe and sound in his Court for the rest of her life.

When evening came, he was so ready to go to the bed. He wanted nothing more just the silence and peace, to stop the buzzing, to kick out all the bothersome assholes who still asked something from him.

Just a little more and I'm done, he was forcing himself to finish the stack of documents on his desk that somehow appeared during the day. It was almost midnight when he finally put down the pen and the last piece of paper.

Completely exhausted he dragged himself through the hallways of silent Forest House, everyone already in their beds, peacefully sleeping. As the doors of his room came into view, he sighed heavily. It was too late. His dear mate was certainly asleep at this time. Yet another day without talking with her properly and enjoying her company. Not that he wouldn't like the moment he slipped to the bed next to her, caressed her beautiful face with feather-light touch that always brought smile to her lips as she snuggled to him. It was actually one of his favourite moments.

Eris quietly opened the doors and halted in surprise. All her candles that she placed all around the bedroom, were lit up, the air smelled after apples, cinnamon and white musk. She loved that smell saying it reminded her of him.

Helen was seated on the bed, leaning against the pillow, long auburn hair like veil around her small shoulders, book on her lap. As soon as she heard him, she looked up and smiled. That was all he needed to instantly feel better. He missed that sweet, gentle smile whole damn day. His lips twisted into hardly there smirk.

"Love," he breathed out hoarsely and closed the doors.

Her smile only widened. "I was waiting for you." She closed the book and put it aside.

"You don't have to do that. You know that, don't you? It's pretty late," he seemingly scolded her, but he was happy.

"I wanted to," she shrugged and stood up. "I've prepared something for my hard working High Lord."

Eris had no idea what it could be, but he already loved it. He had her by his side only for last two months yet he trusted her more than anyone else, even more than to himself. She walked up to him on light steps, her arms immediately found their place on his waist. He squeezed her round hips, the thin silk nightgown under his fingers felt like another layer of her soft skin.

"I missed you," she whispered as she balanced on her tiptoes to reach to his lips.

"I missed you, too," he groaned into her mouth. His fingers traveled up her body and entwined with those soft strands of hair. He gently pulled on them, tilting her head back for easier access. She submitted and let him to kiss her like he had been dreaming about all day. His tongue found its way into her mouth, stroking and exploring until she moaned. That small, sweet noise was like a wave of new energy that hit him and Eris started to push her back to the bed. His hands roamed all over her hot body, slowly pulling up the long nightgown. They were almost there when she pulled away, running hand along his spine.

"Not yet," she whispered out of breath, eyes still closed. "First, let me take care of you, please. You are working too hard. You deserve it." He nodded. There was nothing he would deny her, not after all the suffering.

Helen took his hand and led him to the bathroom where dozens of candles flickered around a bathtub full of milky coloured water, petals of red roses floating on its surface. Eris smiled, really smiled for the first time that day.

"Baby, you spoil me," he purred.

"I haven't even started yet," she spoke from behind him with affection. When did she get there?

Eris swirled to face her and stiffened. She was gloriously naked, the light of the flames dancing on her perfect porcelain skin. He forgot even how to breathe at that sight worthy of the gods. His entire body buzzed with need and excitement. After the days of only seeing her sleeping face he finally felt alive, even the bond in his chest lit up and vibrated with the intensity of his feelings. She had to feel it too, because she looked baffled for a second, the expression immediately replaced with relief and soft smile he loved so much.

"How I come to deserve you?" he breathed out, breeches suddenly too tight and uncomfortable.

She only shrugged and danced to him on the light steps of forest faerie, her hands soothingly ran over his arms and chest to the buttons of the shirt. She undone them one after another, taking her time, her gaze grazing over the newly revealed inches of his pale skin. At last she took the shirt off of his shoulders while touching him as much as possible. She knew how to handle him the way he liked the most. They didn't have enough time to really get to know each other, yet she already knew him as if they were together for centuries.

Eris closed his eyes, letting her do whatever she wanted, simply enjoying her touch. Three months ago he didn't dare even to dream about moments like this. He thought he would never be allowed to love her fully and publicly, that he would never find peace in her arms.

The bond snapped for him exactly eighty-eight years ago and he had to hide it whole the time, dreading what his father would do to her, if he found out that his son was mated with a humble fae, a peasant as Beron called them. He learnt only her name before he winnowed her to the Spring Court and asked his brother Lucien to hide her somewhere and take good care of her. He hadn't seen her ever since then, not until he finally became the High Lord.

Meantime, Lucien moved her to the Day Court, to his real father's court and hid her in his palace. All the pain and suffering was worth it though. The very same night as Eris claimed his legacy, he broke through the wards of Helion's palace and literally kidnapped his own mate from the bed. And ever since then, he thanked the Mother for this gift every second of every day.

His breeches landed on the floor, his cock proudly standing at attention. Helen chuckled at the sight. "So eager already."

"For my beautiful mate? Always," he hummed with cocky grin.

"Come," she pulled him to the bathtub, urging him in and he gladly yielded.

As soon as the warm water embraced his tired body, he relaxed and in a single go he breathed out all the stress that had accumulated in him. His head fell back on her soft chest. Helen started to massage his shoulders and back as she washed him and he turned under her nimble fingers into a moaning mess. His amber eyes met her kind, warm brown ones.

"Come to the water, love," he pleaded.

Smirk appeared on her face as she gracefully slid in, straddling him. His tip brushed against her centre and Eris groaned, his hips thrusting up on their own. His fingers dug into her rear as he tried to get her where he wanted her.

"Tsk, tsk. My bad boy," she pushed him back down and sat on his thighs. He growled disapprovingly.

She kept massaging him, teasing him until he couldn't take it anymore and tugged her to his heaving chest. All the candles around them burned brighter as on command.

"Careful, Eris," she moaned into his ear, "otherwise you'll set the room on fire."

"I don't care. This damn place can all but burn down. All I need I have in my arms now."

His lips landed on hers heavily, hot like the flame itself, all consuming. He kissed her like man starved, gently navigating her hips where he needed her the most and this time she didn't stop him.

Helen slowly sank down and they both moaned in unison when their bodies came together.

"Fuck," Eris whined hoarsely, drinking in her heavenly expression as he filled her. He launched at her throat with intent to leave there his mark. She moaned loudly and her back arched while her fingers entwined with his long red strands, tugging him closer. She started riding him, small whimpers escaping her.

"Good girl," Eris rasped into her skin. He squeezed her ass firmly while his other hand traveled from her waist up, cupping her breast. Satisfied with damage he caused on her throat, he leaned down and took the other nipple into his mouth, sucking, squeezing and nipping. Helen even more arched back, her eyes closed, loud whimpers mixing with moans.

"Eris," she panted and he immediately knew what she needed. He felt it on his length, the way she tightened around him. His lips wandered all the way up her throat to the sensitive spot under her ear that made her see stars.

One of his hands still worked on her nipple, kneading the now sensitive breast. Meanwhile, the other one slid from her butt to the place where they were connected, drawing circles and teasing until Helen's breath became labored. She came on his cock, screaming his name again and again.

However, Eris wasn't done yet.

"Hands on the edge of the tub and hold on tight," he ordered sharply, his voice hoarse, the desire burning him in the most pleasant way. She did as he asked, climbing down from him, sticking out her bum. He growled, kneeling behind her as he pushed in in one smooth move.

Helen gasped loudly at the perfect way he filled her, arching her back she tried to reach for him, but he pushed her back down.

"Stay like this," he snarled. He thrusted into her, his pace growing faster. He needed the release and there was nothing gentle about the way he sought for it. They both turned into moaning, panting mess in no time. Water was splashing all around them even on the floor, putting out few candles.

"Eris," Helen cried out, the knot in her belly tightening again. "Faster.."

"I'm close, too. Together, okay?"

She couldn't speak, only nodded. Eris's hand moved from her hips down, reaching between her legs, his long fingers found her clitoris. His already so fast thrusts became even more deeper and stronger as wet skin was slapping against skin. The knot in her tummy finally snapped and she came with his name on lips. Eris came in the same moment as Helen, his roar bouncing from the walls.

Eris collapsed on her back, breathing in her sweet smell of forest berries. His hands roamed all around her body, caressing her, thanking her for this happiness.

"I love you so much," he said lowly into the skin of her back, leaving a trail of kisses there.

They both were so tired, they couldn't move for a while, just resting in the still warm water in each other's arms. When water cooled down, they moved to the bed. Eris stretched out on soft sheets and reached hand out for his mate.

"Come." He was so drowsy he hardly kept his eyes open, but he wouldn't sleep without her.

She just shook her head, mischief tugging her lips. "Roll onto your tummy for me, would you?"

Eris smiled tiredly. "Won't you go to the bed already?"

"In a moment. I'm not done with pampering my lord yet." She took out massage oil from bedside table. Eris hummed and rolled face down. Helen gently massaged oil into his scarred skin until his breath calmed down and he seemingly fell asleep.

"Good night, love," she kissed his forehead, wrapped him in the covers and snuggled to his side.

"Finally," Eris smiled sleepily with closed eyes. He rolled to his side and hugged her. His skin warmed up and they both fell asleep holding each other.

[friendship-ditch]

Whumptober Day 7 - Magic with a Cost

Galadriel x Fem!Reader ✼

Summary: Galadriel is weakened after Dol Guldur and you're charged with keeping her safe.

Warnings/Notes: None. Gotta admit I always wondered wtf happened after this scene so here's my rushed take on it.

Word Count: 1527

  Every being must at least once tamper with darkness. Even you had, dancing with the shadows in late nights where it seemed that was the only option left. But you didn’t expect the Lady of Lorien to turn so… terrifying.

  If there was anybody that could banish Sauron back to where he had come from, it would be her, but it didn’t go down how you would have imagined.

  Galadriel was already weakened from reviving Gandalf, her pale body draped loosely across the cold floor of Dol Guldur. But when the evil being began to reform in front of your very eyes, she was suddenly back upon her feet with a new strength.

  Instead of a warm light radiating from her body, it was dark, almost evil. Her hair flew behind her in murky blue strands as if she’d fallen down a well and reemerged soaked to the bone. Her face was dark, eyes wide and wild. You’d never heard a voice as deep and booming as hers as she banished Sauron from this realm with such a power you were almost cowering in fear.

  Though, the second the evil vanished, so did her power.

  Galadriel’s legs stood for only a second longer before she collapsed backwards with a cry. She would’ve fallen onto the ground had you not been there to catch her, slowly lowering her down so she was on the stone once more, her head against your shoulder and your arm around her back. She was shaking as violently as a feather in the wind, trying to catch her breath between weak gasps.

  “I’ve got you…” You whispered, maneuvering the weakened elf so her head could rest easy against your chest. Then you looked up at the others; Elrond and Saruman. “We were deceived.”

  Her shuddering breath tickled your neck, still trembling as the last remnants of her strength filtered from her body. “Sauron… his spirit endured…” She rasped in an airy tone. “We… we must..”

  Galadriel tried to stand but the sudden dizziness that swept her body dragged her back down. Her eyes fluttered shut and a weary moan escaped her lips as she sunk back into you. The idea of standing caused a sickening feeling to spread through her stomach. Oh, she was cold… so cold.

  “Stay still, my Lady…” You murmured into her hair, rubbing your thumb in soft circles over her back in a weak attempt to provide comfort.

  The other two continued their discussion about Sauron, but you could hardly hear them over Galadriel’s heavy but useless breaths. 

  “Y/n.” Elrond suddenly spoke, snapping you out of it. At once you tried to stand, but Galadriel grabbed your arm, leaving you half bent at the knee as she held onto you to keep herself from fully collapsing. “You need to take Lady Galadriel back to Lothlorien.”

  “Me?” You frowned, confused. Though you were Galadriel’s servant, yes, you were still nobody of importance. You’d come along because she asked you to, but the idea of trying to get her home in this state, alone, was terrifying. 

  Galadriel’s hand slipped from your arm but you caught it in hers, squeezing it tight. Her skin was usually quite cool to the touch, but now it was near freezing. 

  “I will help you get her there, but you must care for her after.” Elrond restated his words. His eyes flicked from yours to Galadriel’s as the ancient white being’s head fell onto your leg, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. “She needs healing, her strength has been all but destroyed.”

  You moved your hand to rest on Galadriel’s back, fingers trailing loosely through her hair. She could not stay here any longer, that was for sure, even if it seemed impossible to move her. But what other choice did you have? This was your lady, your boss, your friend… If the others trusted you enough to care for her in such a weekend state then so be it.

  “Okay.” 

  It turns out Elrond had predicted something of this manner would happen as he brought an extra horse. The two of you loaded Galadriel’s exhausted body onto the horse and you sat behind her, keeping her on the steed as you raced across the plains and through the forests.

  Lothlorien was only a day away, and with elven horses blessed by Rivendell, you arrived at a little less than that. 

  The healers whisked around you immediately once you arrived, practically carrying Galadriel away for healing. You were not allowed to see her until much later when she had been returned to her chambers.

  You peeked your head into her room, fingers clenched around the doorway. Your eyes fell upon the white shape in bed, asleep.

  With the quietness of a mouse, you snuck further into her room. You placed a tray down on her bedside table, pouring a glass of healing water and setting it aside for her inevitable waking. The healers had done well in changing her into a more comfortable gown but they left her other one folded horribly on the floor.

  You kneeled down to pick up the white fabric, shaking it out. You folded it back up and hummed to yourself. Then you placed the gown on her dresser when you heard her shifting.

  Galadriel’s face was still as pale as snow, though the softest hints of color were returning to her cheeks. She groaned softly in her sleep, eyes fluttering

  When you’d first arrived and spoke to one of the healers you had learned Galadriel had only ever exhausted herself this badly once, though they would not tell you why or how. They reassured you that she just needed rest. Lots and lots of rest. Using all of the power she did had drained her almost to the point of a magic-induced coma, but she was strong enough to fight the tendrils wanting to drag her down. 

  As far as you were concerned, Galadriel’s health and rest was the most important thing. After gazing at her slackened face you decided to have the cooks create her favorite meal so it would be ready when she woke up.

  But as you turned to leave you heard a soft voice.

  “Y/n…?”

  Galadriel’s eyes were hardly open, tiny slits of the ancient blue gazing at your blurry figure. Her soft cry was hardly more than a whimper. She tried to reach for your hand but fell short halfway through.

  You kneeled at her bedside and took her hand into yours. It was still chilly but not as icy as it had been before. A small smile spread across your lips as you looked at her. She really was healing.

  “I’m here…” You whispered. “I’m right here.”

  “I…” Galadriel was too weak to form any words but you sensed her need. You gently lifted her head as you held the glass of water to her lips, letting her drink until the glass was emptied.

  When you laid her head back down, her eyelids sank closed once more, but the corners of her lips were ever so slightly raised.

  “Stay…” She croaked.

  You moved one hand to gently touch the side of her face, fingers feather light across her skin. After you kissed her forehead, you nodded. “I will.”

  You stayed at her side the remainder of the day and even well into the night. Galadriel’s only fear at the moment was being alone, and you weren’t fond of the idea either, so you stayed with her as long as you could.

  By the time the next day rolled around she began to regain some of her strength though she was still bedridden and shaky.

  “Would you be able to stomach some soup?” You entered her room once more with another tray, a warm bowl of soup atop the metal platter. 

  Galadriel blinked a few times, lifting her head. A soft groan escaped her lips from the movement but once her eyes fell upon you and the soup, she smiled weakly.

  “Please.”

  You sat beside her once more, sort of propping her body up against yours. She was far too shaky to hold the spoon herself without spilling the hot liquid so you did it for her, feeding her until she was finished.

  Galadriel was not a fan of being unable to sustain herself but at your side she felt no need to protest. You were a safe presence for her, one she knew she could trust and be weak around. Plus… she secretly enjoyed the way you babied her, though she would never admit it.

  The soup seemed to do her some good as she could sit up on her own now but the idea of standing made her queasy so she stayed beside you in bed. Her body was still struggling to warm itself so at her request you cuddled with her, her head on your chest as your fingers ran gently through her golden hair, keeping her body and heart warm.

  You could certainly get used to a few more days of this. And so could she as the two of you drifted off in each others arms once more.

[withonly-sweetheart]

Feathered Fiend

You unburden yourself on a creature that should have no burdens. You tell it of your unrequited love, but is all truly what it seems?

a/n: MINT ANON!!! IM SO HAPPY THAT I COULD WRITE THIS FOR U! PLEASE REACH OUT AND TELL ME IF U LIKE IT BC THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA!! AHH KISSING YA RN

also if you think there should be a part two...? with a war and everything... between the two... hahahaha lmk! <3 <- READ IT HERE !!

tw: angst, mentions of blood, i think the kiss scene is a bit like nsfw but not really so be ready!

wc: 4.8k

You feel horrendous. 

Your world is coming very close to tipping one side, like an uneven scale of glittering gold, blurring at the edges of your eyes as you press the rim of the champagne glass to your lips, swirling the sickly liquid around your tongue before it swims down your throat.

Almost immediately you recoil from the taste, setting it down where it stands proudly, precariously, against the high ledge of your balcony. One swipe and it would splinter the pillows of snow, turning them a shade of maroon you won’t dare to imagine.

You nudge the blueberries on the plate resting on the connecting area of the railing, where the ornate designs curve into a final smile, disappearing into the concrete. You fight to keep disdain from your expression as one of them passes your lips, staining your mouth with a honeyed juice. 

You roll your tongue and glance over your shoulder, at the threads of light and velvet weave the tapestry that is the gala down the hall, where everyone is draped in dramatic, auburn brushed chandeliers that bronze their flushed faces and carry their lively chatter across the room.

Suddenly you find yourself longing for the bitter wind misting your skin that you had cursed away, the icy daggers pinching your skin, crawling into your blood, turning you cold.

Out here, with only the moonlight for company, you could forget that somewhere in those halls roams your mother, arms linked with yet another noble, feline eyes slanted as she paws at his crisp suit, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. You know for a fact that eventually, you’ll be shaking his hand, forcing a smile and pushing responses past your gritted teeth as you bet with yourself how many days he’ll last.

But you’ve forgotten that, eyes trailing a bird that has joined you. It’s a peculiar looking thing, with dappled, sunny and sky blue feathers and an underbelly of soft white. You curl a finger, mouth quirking in amusement as it hops near, tilting its head curiously.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen such a little thing,” you murmur as it pecks at the cloying remains of fruit left on your fingertips. However gingerly, you pinch the remaining berries between your fingers and hold them out, as an offering to this free spirit.

You watch as it chirps sweetly. How long has it been since you’ve had birds resting on your hands, laying serenely in a patch of sunlight in the forest, when your father would shake his head at you, standing at the edge of your little area, with that small smile that only you could coax from him?

As all things do, the bird quickly finishes its meal and hops away, flexing its wings to take off, leaving you breathless in its absence. It seems to hesitate, looking back at you for but a moment before soaring back into the sky.

If only you could do the same.

<><><><>

Just as it was when you left, everyone entertains themselves with far too animated conversations and laughter, and you feel perfectly alone in the midst of it all. Claire nudges your shoulder gently before linking her arm with her date - an imposing, tall figure with striking brown hair and a stoic expression on his chiseled face. He nods at you in a formal and somewhat cold manner before turning away into the swirling crowd of dancers.

"You okay?" Claire whispers in your ear, her brow creasing with concern as she glances around to ensure her date doesn't abandon her.

"Of course," you reply, digging your fingernails into your palm to keep your voice steady. Claire’s eyes narrow as she studies your face, clearly not convinced by your attempt at seeming unconcerned. However, she decides to let it go for the moment and hands you a glass of shimmering purple wine.

"Come on," she drawls teasingly, perhaps on her seventh drink, when you hesitantly decline her offer. "It's a party, enjoy yourself!"

You absently turn your head to survey the room and find yourself fixating on Leon. He stands across the crowded ballroom floor, surrounded by his family and friends. You’re pondering his absence for the first phase of the gala when your heart clenches involuntarily at the sight of a woman you don’t recognize, a vision in white and baby pink, clutching his arm possessively as if she owns him entirely. Her eyes glitter in the chandelier's light above you while a wide smile adorns her face that refuses to fall.

"Ignore them," Claire tells you softly, sensing your growing discomfort as she squeezes your arm reassuringly before abandoning her somber expression for a warm smile. "Promise me you won't spend the entire evening torturing yourself by watching him."

"Promise," you lie quickly, intertwining your finger with hers to seal the falsehood that hangs between you. Claire seems to sense the insincerity behind your words, but refrains from pressing further. Instead, she gently pats you on the back in solidarity before departing towards another group of friends as her long black hair flows gracefully behind her like a dark river.

But your thoughts inevitably wander back to him, and with them come the revolting parasite that attaches herself to him at every waking moment. Her strawberry blond hair is perfectly styled into a neat bun, and her stunning gown billows around her in soft ruffles of white and pink that seem almost ethereal.

With the threat of loathing searing your skin, you choose to turn and focus on the colorful assortment of snacks meticulously arranged on the long, elegant table nearby. However, it soon becomes impossible for you to ignore the situation, as she attractively lifts up her slender fork and taps it against her delicate glass with incredible poise. The resulting light, tinkling sound resonates through the grand and spacious manor, effectively quieting the gathered guests down.

"Thank you all for being here," she gracefully begins, a sinister yet charming smile curving her full lips. "I would like to commence this lovely evening by expressing what an honor it is for me to be present here amongst such distinguished company." Her words ooze deceit, dripping like thick layers of sweet honey on poisonous thorns just waiting to ensnare any unsuspecting victims.

"I am equally thrilled," she continues with feigned enthusiasm, "that my close friend - someone whom I hold near and dear - Duke Leon Kensington, has graciously invited me to cut the ribbon at the grand opening of the prestigious Arklay Academy."

The room responds with a unanimously enthusiastic round of applause. Feeling compelled by the atmosphere, you too mechanically tap your palms together, not truly understanding the need to celebrate her undeserved moment of fame. An ugly surge of jealousy courses through you as an alternative explanation for your unwillingness to participate in the celebration presents itself - you find it incredibly disheartening that it is this strange woman’s hands tightly wrapped around Leon’s arm instead of yours.

All around you, glass chandeliers cast dazzling reflections on the polished marble floor as sophisticated conversations fill the air. Delicate strings of pearls and fine silks brush against one another as finely dressed men and women exchange pleasantries with glittering smiles. You gaze down for a moment, closely examining the intricate embroidery on your sleeves, while your lips form a tight purse.

Your mother catches your eye as she slips between the crack of the door. There is a man’s hand on her hip, cupping the dip of her body. Her gaze seems somewhat apologetic, but you turn on your heel and march the other way, hoping no one sees her eyes trailing you, trying to leave behind the lingering embarrassment that tugs you back. 

<><><><>

"Why have you dragged me here?" Leon’s smooth, unblemished voice sends shivers crawling up your spine. Curiosity takes hold of you as you muster enough courage to slightly peek around the corner of the door frame - only to find the same woman standing there in front of him.

"The king cannot stop me now," she asserts defiantly, as she grasps a fistful of his shirt collar and forcefully presses her lips against his. They don’t fit right.

You can't quite remember what it was that you choked out in response to the scene before you. What you do remember is the overwhelming sensation of feeling like your soul was akin to a fragile mirror that he had smashed unreservedly, leaving jagged shards that pierced your chest, drawing blood and suffocating you from within.

Leon eventually pulls away from the girl with a noticeable expression of uncertainty on his face; however, his eyes undeniably glint with intense desire. "Duchess Graham… what if we're discovered by someone?" he questions nervously.

Ashley Graham. You haven’t heard much of her, but you don’t truly care for the gossip that passes through the kingdom, over who is courting who, over who was found with one too many glasses of salt-rimmed wine.

"Let them see," Ashley speaks softly as she trails her delicate fingers down the sleek contours of his muscular form, asserting possessively, "I want everyone to know that you're mine." She pulls him closer and once again locks her lips against his.

And with one erratic swing, you aren't just sad anymore. You are angry as well. It is sickening to see the affection between her and this man who has so easily captured your heart with his stunning azure eyes, smooth tawny hair that seems effortlessly tousled, and his dazzling smile that makes you weak in the knees.

Pain pounds against your chest as you realize how easy it is for you to imagine yourself in Leyla's place. Your thoughts wander to a fantasy where his long, slender fingers are tangled in your own hair as he touches you with practiced expertise, knowing exactly where you crave his touch the most. He would lean in, planting kisses on areas you didn't even realize needed attention, the pool of desire widening through your body, drowning you both whole.

As you storm back through the room from where you emerged, still trembling with anger coursing through you, the only sound that seems to mock your pain is the relentless echo of their muted kisses.

<><><><>

As Ashley wraps her arms tightly around his shoulders, he can't help but suppress a gag reflex and force a bright smile onto his face. His body tenses as he scans the bustling room, spotting no one he wishes across the crowd, his deep blue eyes fixed intently on the floor. The sight of his defeated expression fills him with a sense of disgust that's hard to shake off.

He notices your eyes dragging across his body, leaving him flushed when you look elsewhere. But the girl at his side assumes it's her doing. 

Being led into the hallways by Ashley, she suddenly pushes him against the cool tiled wall. Her cold fingers trail slowly along the skin of his exposed arms while he offers no resistance. Instead, he reaches out to bury his fingers in her thick, flaxen hair, the strands feeling like delicate spider silk. As their bodies press together, he can't keep his gaze from wandering toward her enticingly exposed thighs.

Kissing her is like experiencing something that he never knew he was going to. He isn’t sure whether or not he likes it, whether or not he finds it pleasing.

But as all men do, he expects to be overwhelmed by seductive desire as he tugs on her soft hair and melts further into her. He’s always felt that their only interactions are either at such social gatherings or the results of his mother’s malicious manipulation; sending him storming down the kingdom roads, only to find respite in Ashley’s comforting embrace. Whenever he lands in her arms, his troubles seem to transfer themselves into the air of his muffled sobs into the ruffles of her dress.

This time, though, something feels different.

Opening his eyes as they remain locked in their intimate position, he can't help but notice the complete absence of emotion in her distant gaze - a void that mirrors his own feelings at that moment. The once alluring smile has vanished from her face as she tilts her head to one side, letting her dress slip seductively off her shoulder without bothering to adjust it.

With nonchalance in her voice, Ashley asks him, "What's wrong?" Unable to find any words to respond, all he can do is focus on her hollowed cheeks. Suddenly finding her much less attractive than before, he fights the urge to pull away. Desperately trying to forget his unease, he presses his right hand deeper into her hair while allowing his left hand to hang limp at his side.

However, no matter how hard he tries, he cannot escape the vision of you cradled in his arms, hair weaving seamlessly through his fingers and eyes wide with innocence.

Had you been completely oblivious to what had happened mere minutes ago? The thought makes him smile faintly, which Ashley misinterprets as a signal of his enjoyment. Responding to that cue, she sensually guides his other hand onto her inner thigh, fixing him with a lustful gaze.

The sensation is overwhelming as every fiber of his being screams desperately for him to let go of Leyla, push her away, to reject her advances altogether. Panic rises within him like thick toxic smoke as she begins unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his vulnerable skin to the cold midnight air.

Suddenly, it strikes him that they are standing in the middle of nowhere, everywhere and existing in the plane of blank space all at one, his arm firmly pressed over her head, effectively trapping her against the row of cold metal lockers. The strands of her luscious caramel hair seem to capture the ethereal glow of the moonlight seeping in through the windows. Her plump lips, glistening with a layer of moisture, remain slightly parted and poised just inches away from his, patiently waiting for another taste.

And he’s always found her attractive, perhaps even more so than the other women who fall at his doorstep, with their silly, useless, profuse apologies that fall from their thin lips, with their meaningless gifts that end up stored in a closet somewhere in the castle.

But now, he struggles to find his voice, something that’s never happened with her. "I-I..." Something clicks inside his mind, and as if emerging from a trance, he swiftly pulls away from her. 

Leon’s eyes widen with confusion and shock as he tries to comprehend what has just happened. Leyla's expression is nothing like his own, fully aware of what is unfolding between them. She tugs at her dress to reposition it and then meets his gaze with a fierce glare.

“Bored already?” she asks quietly.

Leon cares, he truly does. However, he suspects that it has always been this way. The brief solace that she provides him whenever he’s fled from the thin definition of home that he has held close to his heart has always been the string connecting them.

And he’s just severed it.

<><><><>

The bird flutters back to you, after the moon and sun have exchanged greetings and said their farewells twice now, and you find yourself sighing in remorse.

“Did you know, little bird, that there is a boy?” You chuckle to yourself, shaking your head as amusement tints your expression. “No, not boy. He is a man now, yet I will always see him as the little boy who offered me lunch every day, back when we were all the same to each other.

“I will not tell you his name, for I fear you will utter a curse upon him to the gods, and then where would I be? More or less heartbroken, because if he is gone, no one else may love him.”

The bird stares back at you, beady eyes seeming to narrow in concern. You might as well entertain yourself with the idea he understands you, at least for the few hours you have before yet another gala your mother has requested your presence at.

Surprisingly enough, the woman in question waits quietly as you stroll back inside, shooing the bird from your balcony, wishing for it to not be burdened with your troubles. 

There’s a sheen of fabric splayed out on your neat bedsheets. There is a sense of guilt that hangs between you two, but you suppose, just for her pleasure, you could do this one small thing.

And you would be lying if you said you didn’t like the dress.

It fits perfectly. Waves of satin and gold shimmering together, like polished fish swimming in a clear ocean. They had arranged your hair in curls that fell over your shoulders and cascaded down your back like a waterfall. It felt prim and proper in a way that you had never experienced before - the feeling itself sent electric shivers running through your body. Perhaps you can treat yourself, just this once.

The looks are infinitely more worth it, especially when your presence renders even Leon speechless. You notice, with a small, smug smile, that Ashley is nowhere to be seen. You wonder what’s become of her. Perhaps her parents finally found the inevitable love child.

“You certainly know how to command a room,” he remarks, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you reply, your tone light yet teasing.

“Everywhere?” he suggests, voice dropping low as he shifts his weight to stand closer to you. If last night’s events had not transpired, you might’ve allowed it. But all you can think of is her skin under his, not yours, and suddenly you realize that must be such a normal occurrence.

“Watch your tongue,” you hiss, stepping back. With a small, knowing smile, you tilt your head slightly, a silent message that you are not easily swayed by mere words or charm. 

You hold your power, in your quick tongue, holding your ground, even as Leon’s face contorts with confusion, with hurt.

“Whatever happened to the curse of gods,” he mutters. 

“Are you referencing the required reading from the passage?” you drone. 

“Yes, no. Of course. That is what I meant.” He clears his throat yet his eyes cloud with an emotion you cannot identify. He glances past you, gives a little wave, dipping his head respectfully to you before stalking past.

You wait a moment, perhaps two, before twisting over your shoulder. He is standing alone at the wine table, cupping a glass carefully between his fingers, as if pondering the ripples that his lips send out through the crimson liquid.

You hope it will slip, staining the white of his linen shirt.

Perhaps that will show him your agony, how your heart had turned inside out and painted your chest red when he kissed her and not you, hidden in that hallway.

<><><><>

Bloody and broken is how the bird arrives, that same night, as you sigh your troubles away into a plate of cucumber, sprinkled with chili flakes you had stolen from the kitchen. It chirps in sorrow, pecking at the fabric of your dress.

You pull away, raising an eyebrow before finally noticing the red dripping down its wiry legs, pooling in small beads around the talons that scratch the concrete. When you reach to cup the feathery, suffering animal between your hands, the dust stirs and floats down to the dying snow.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you coo, ushering yourself back into your room. Where your mother has hidden the aid kits, you do not know, so you wrap its damaged wing in some gauze you find underneath the sink.

There doesn’t seem to be an infection, but perhaps you should call Duchess Chambers, plan for her expertise. But the moon has already swam up to its high perch in the sky, and you know she will be tending to the late night patients.

And, of course, when you wake, the bird is gone. Only the crimson splatters on your desk remain, staining the letter that had arrived the evening before.

Blood so perfectly covers the name of the man you are set to wed in a few weeks.

<><><><>

"What happened there?" you inquire casually. His gaze follows yours, and he prods at the bandage covering his right hand with a wince.

"I participated in a fight," he admits with a hint of amusement. Your eyes widen in horror, darting around to confirm no one else has arrived in the abandoned hallway where you once sought solace, now only fear.

"T-The peasants?" you stutter, taking a step back. He could be joking, yes, yet he seems unworried and advances toward you.

"No," he muses. "I… engaged in combat with a tree."

You pause. “A… tree?”

He nods solemnly, as if the problem was truly within his supposed ‘opponent’. “You need not inform me. I already know.”

You scoff, unable to stop the sarcastic response that climbs up your throat. “Of course you would fight with a tree. Who has upset you now, your mistress?”

He cocks his head to the side, confusion swimming in his distressed eyes, echoing, “My mistress?”

“Baroness Graham,” you seethe. “Do not fret, I suppose everyone has seen your bond.”

“We aren’t…” Leon flushes, staring back down, eyes glued to the carpet. “That has never been the case.”

“Perhaps look at your surroundings next time you exchange intimacy in a public area,” you mumble. “Just about anyone may have caught you both.”

If it were possible, you are sure he would’ve turned an even deeper shade of red, matching the burgundy curtains. You rub the bridge of your nose and turn away, unable to watch his flustered, regularly smart mouth open and shut.

“I even thought of courting you,” you say, slightly bemused. “That was how enamored I was with the idea of being yours. Of you being mine.”

This statement seems to spark something in him, because he rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, but there is nothing gentle about the way he whirls you around, forcing you to face him. You are mere inches from the wall, you think, and if he chose to corner you, your only option would be to throw your punches. Which hand, now, was the question.

“And why do you think I stopped?” he replies with just as much exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose before glaring down at you.

“Because I will always be a lesser priority to you.”

“You must be missing some pieces,” he grumbles. “Because never once in my life have I ever thought of you less than me.”

“Less than Ashley?”

“Never.”

“Then why did you stop pursuing her?”

“Because you told me!” he seethes. “Yes, I heard everything you said about me. Perhaps find better confidants than woodland creatures.”

His words leave you with broken sentences clumping in your mouth, your tongue feeling awkward and clumsy as you stammer, “T-The bird… you?”

“The bastard child of a nymph,” he admits with a dry chuckle. “Yet I will say that nothing you said was untrue, and that you are more glorious than a morning blossom. Still interested?”

“You… oh… dear.” You flush. “Your lineage matters… not to me.”

He arches a curious eyebrow, eyes glinting. “Our heirs will be of the forest. Does it bother you that your trusted little bird is truly me?”

A small part of you must’ve suspected this from the day in the gala, where he had alluded to your conversation, but it was a silly thought, no? A noble, a figure of society, a fluttering little thing that chose, of all maidens, to spend time with you?

You rest a hand on his chest, gazing up at him. 

“I would not have it any other way, little bird.”

<><><><>

It was your secret, meant to be between you. But the walls have ears, and behind the shades of violet and maroon are listeners, people waiting to break apart what must be the only good thing that’s ever happened to you.

His face is ashen, cheeks hollow when you finally gain the courage to visit him in the dungeons below the castle. You do not understand the cause for his punishment. Who is he harming if he is but two souls in two bodies, one of which is meant for your realm and the other, a wild, free spirit?

“My dear,” he rasps when you approach, clutching the bars like a madman. You stare blankly into his crazed eyes, unable to find the man you once loved.

It has not even been a full month, you remember. You were to be wed, to love one another for eternity, however his lifeline works. You had assumed he would die to join you in the haven past the clouds.

“Leon?” you whisper. 

“It is me, truly,” he chokes out. “Please, tell them.”

Your mother is standing beside you, touching your arm with those soft, slender fingers that always had the strange power to make you submit to her will. Perhaps she is also a creature of the woods, perhaps that is how she has managed to fancy all the eligible suitors even at her age.

But whatever she has done, she will always be your mother.

“Tell them what, Leon?” you ask softly. “Your kind has obviously caused us some harm, lest you be in this troubled, pitious situation.”

He looks up at you, confused, fingers slipping from their hold on the iron to reach out for you. As if on instinct, you and your mother step back, her face contorting in disgust.

“Do you see what happens if you keep secrets, dear?” she whispers, voice toxic in your ears. In some sick way, you realize that she must’ve manipulated some part of the puzzle, because how are you free from the consequences that both of you should be suffering?

“I have done no such thing,” Leon says, voice low since that seems to be all he can manage. In his disarray, in his mangled state, you find yourself unable to take any of his reasoning to heart.

“Pray tell,” you say quietly. “Is Baroness Graham also one of your kind?”

He draws back as if you have pinched him. “No. I thought my lineage did not matter to you.”

Your mother scoffs, cutting back in. “Lineage is everything, you deceiving traitor. You know that magic is forbidden in our kingdom, yet you sought to take my dear child away.”

What surprises you the most is that Leon offers no response. He purses his lips in a straight line and looks back down at his feet. You feel your own tremble.

“Is it true?”

“Would you have trusted a wolf at your door?” he mumbles. “I could’ve taken you at any moment, yet I resisted. I presented myself as the being you wished to be.”

“The beast admits to it, fooling you,” your mother seethes, and without another word, she turns and marches away.

"Mother, please," you cry, hurrying after her into the widening dusk. She stalks ahead, shoulders set in stony resolve.

You glance back at his silhouette, limned by flickering torchlight, and your heart strains near to breaking. But family has always come first. With a grimace, you tear your gaze away and redouble your pace to catch your mother.

"Why must you shun all who are different?" you ask as you fall into step beside her. "Leon has shown me only kindness." 

She cuts you a sharp look. "Do not be deceived. His motives are not as pure as they seem."

"And yet I went out of my way to save him," you insist. "He owes me his life - does that mean nothing?"

Your mother's eyes flash with some inner fire. "You should’ve let him die! You know not what evils his kind are capable of." 

Her strides lengthen, as if to outpace the doubts you sow. You match her pace, heartache weighing your every footfall. "Please, I beg you to give him a chance. Is peace not worth the risk?”

“You still do not understand,” she says, voice eerily calm.

“Then explain it!” You scuff the ground, stopping in your tracks. Your mother is not easily swayed, but her cloak billows around her, making her seem more intimidating than you know she is. “Explain why you hate such creatures-”

She raises a hand to silence you.

You do not foresee the tears that well in her eyes.

Her voice is broken.

Shattered glass once again pricks at your heart.

“Would you love a beast that has your father’s blood on his hands?"

[drewsbuzzcut]

I Want Your Midnights

nick moldenhauer x dallas blankenburg

a so it goes blurb

warnings: mentions sex and maybe alcohol consumption and I think that’s all

italics are flashbacks

The sun filters through the sheer, linen curtains. Dallas’ bare body is covered by a white sheet, but her shoulders and collarbones are on display. The sparkly “N” necklace rests perfectly on her delicate skin, reflecting the sunlight. He leans down letting his lips press a chaste kiss on her chest.

“G’morning,” the girl whispers, stretching and getting even more tangled in the sheets.

He loves her so much.

“Morning, baby,” he mutters into her cheek, brushing away the hair matted on her forehead.

Her fingers card his hair and he’s reminded of the night before. After watching the ball drop in Times Square, he took her back to their hotel room and feasted between her legs, sucking her clit into his mouth as she pulled on his curls. He can still hear her sweet moans.

“What’re you thinking about?” Dallas asks when she sees Nick bite down on his lip to cover up a smile.

“You. Us. Yesterday was fun and I can’t wait to have more new years with you,” he responds, almost shyly.

The girl reaches a hand out to pull his face to hers, needing to feel his plump lips.

“Yesterday was really fun,” she whispers into the kiss.

Small giggles fall from her mouth when she sits up and looks around their hotel room. Their bedazzled “2024” headbands, their clothes, and a few discarded condoms are strewn all over the floor.

“And crazy,” he adds.

“Very crazy,” she agrees.

Nick and Dallas have been waiting in the large crowd, dancing and talking along to whoever had been performing at the time. When the time came for Sabrina Carpenter to perform, Dallas was extremely excited. It made Nick smile when she’d look around in wonder and gasp at something she’d never seen before.

As Sabrina’s set started with “Feather,” Dallas started dancing in front of her hockey boyfriend. It was his way to make sure she was safe, and so he could watch her hips move. Her mini skirt- albeit not keeping her warm at all- sure did make the couple grow red in their cheeks. Each time Dallas swayed her hips to the beat, Nick’s hands went to rest on her body. The girl’s blush rose to her skin at his chilled touch. As for Nick, he’d blush every time he thought about taking her skirt off of her body. It was the only thing keeping him awake after their busy week and even busier day.

“Clark is everybody’s favorite dick type. Make a toast to everyone you dislike. Balls are dropping everywhere at midnight,” Sabrina sings her famous outro and Dallas goes wild.

The girl is grinding against her boyfriend and those poor people next to them, but she’s so incredibly happy so she doesn’t care.

“Did you hear that, Nicky? Balls are dropping everywhere at midnight,” she turns to face Nick, whispering hotly in his ear. He doesn’t even get a chance to respond before she’s turning back around to continue dancing on him.

“Is that a promise?” Nick whispers in her ear, both his arms wrapped around her body. His lips find purchase on her neck, sucking faint red bruises into her skin.

“It’s a promise, baby. I’m going to worship your body the second we’re upstairs,” she says against his lips, sealing her statement with a kiss.

Nick smirks at her, swiping a thumb over her cheek to get a giddy smile out of her. Her eyes reflect all the sparkling lights, and Nick knows his entire life is right there in front of him. He leans down, pecking her forehead before they continue swaying around to the live music.

They spend the remaining time joking around and just being in their own world. Dallas eventually brings out her retro camcorder to film Nick as they laugh and sing terribly. This night definitely has so many memories that she wants to document.

It’s when the countdown starts that Dallas starts to feel nervous. She’s about to have her first ever new year’s kiss while watching the ball drop in Times Square. Two firsts with the boy she’s so sure about. It’s honestly terrifying, but she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else with anyone else.

FIVE

“What’s one thing you want in the new year?” Nick shouts over the yelling crowd, but Dallas can hear him just fine.

FOUR

“Happiness. This last half of the year has been amazing and I don’t want it to stop,” she answered, staring deeply into his blue eyes. Her hand rises to rest on his cheek, his lips connecting with her palm to give her some semblance of warmth.

THREE

Dallas is so overcome with giddiness. She never would’ve thought, at the beginning of the year, that she’d be here with Nick. Nick who’s shown her a life so wonderful and full of love and new opportunities. She’s so lucky to have already found her person.

TWO

“What’s one thing you want this year?” She asks his question.

ONE

“You,” he pulls her face to his, their lips connecting as everyone welcomes the new year in hoots and hollers.

Nick moves away first, Dallas’ lips chasing after him. He gives her one more peck.

“Happy new year, June bug,” he whispers, intertwining their fingers.

“Happy new year, Nick,” she leans up to kiss him again.

She pulls away with a laugh, grasping his hand as she moves them through the crowd and on the way back to their hotel.

“I think I might need your help getting to the restroom,” she mutters once she snaps out of her memories, kicking the sheet off her body.

“Come on, June bug,” he says, lifting her body in his arms.

“I’m glad it’s just us last night and today,” she whispers into his neck.

“Me, too,” he kisses her forehead.

Their new year is starting off right.

a/n: ENJOY! Again, happy new year to everyone🫶