#somehow I think she’d still look upwards

[woso-story]

2 Much

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Based on the song '2 Much' by Justin Bieber

Alexia lay on her side, propped up on one elbow, staring at you beside her. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the early morning sun sneaking through the curtains, casting a golden hue over your sleeping face. Your hair was tousled across the pillow, your chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, completely at peace. Alexia’s heart swelled, and she couldn’t help but smile. How could someone so perfect be lying here, in her bed, in her life?

She reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, careful not to wake you. Her fingers lingered for a moment, grazing the soft skin of your cheek. She often found herself wondering how she got so lucky, but mornings like this hit her harder than usual. Watching you sleep, so unguarded and serene, felt like a privilege—a glimpse into the purest part of you.

Alexia’s mind drifted, unbidden, to one of her favorite memories. You were out with her teammates, laughter and music filling the air, the kind of night that felt infinite. You had been on the dance floor, hair down, moving with an ease and freedom that seemed to defy the chaos around you. Alexia had been rooted to the spot, utterly mesmerized. She’d forgotten to blink, let alone breathe, because in that moment, she knew: This is it. This is where I’m supposed to be.

Her heart raced just thinking about it, even now. The way you lived your life—with so much love, so much care—astounded her. Whether it was your family, your friends, or the weight of your demanding schedules, you somehow carried it all with grace. Yet, you always made time for her. It was as if you had a way of stopping the world, just for her, even when it felt like it was spinning out of control.

Alexia looked at you again, taking in the delicate curve of your jawline, the slight upward twitch of your lips, even in sleep. She thought about the first time you met—really met—and how she didn’t realize at the time she was meeting the biggest blessing of her life. All those nights spent praying for a love like this, and now here you were. God really had done something extraordinary.

She thought about how often she told you, “I love you,” over and over again, probably too much for you to fully process. But she couldn’t help it. Every time she said it, it felt like the first time, and it was never enough to capture how she truly felt. Every syllable of your name was music to her ears, a melody she could play on repeat forever.

And those nights—those quiet, intimate nights—when your head was resting on her chest, the sun already peeking over the horizon. Alexia could never bring herself to sleep. She didn’t want to miss a single second of this—of you. She would rather fall in love over and over again than waste even a moment in unconsciousness. When you weren’t near, it felt like something essential had been taken from her, as though two seconds apart stretched into two unbearable months.

She sighed softly, leaning down to press the gentlest kiss to your temple. Even eternity wouldn’t be enough, she realized. If she had every day, every hour, every second with you, it still wouldn’t feel like enough time to show you how much you were loved.

You stirred slightly at the touch, your lips parting as you let out a small sigh but didn’t wake. Alexia smiled, her heart aching in the best way. I don’t want to miss this, she thought, letting her fingers trace invisible patterns on the sheets. I don’t want to miss a single moment of loving you.

Alexia settled back down, her head close to yours, her eyes never leaving your face. She whispered into the stillness of the room, words just for you:

“You are my everything.”

[twanettee]

[flowerywoso]

the babysitter || irene paredes x reader

Summary: You've had a thing for Irene ever since you started babysitting for her. When she comes home after a night out with the team, you realize that your feelings might not be as one-sided as you thought they were. Pairing: Irene Paredes x Reader Words: 3,992 Warnings: 🔞, smut with plot Notes: I haven't written anything in quite awhile (I honestly wasn't planning on writing ever again but here we are), so this might be a little rough! Please don't hesitate to let me know (politely, please!) if you notice any horrible grammatical errors or notes to myself that I somehow forgot to take out. Do not post my works on Ao3. And I am horrible at titles.

You peek your head into the room once more, carefully easing the door open and, just as quickly, shut, once you determine that the toddler is definitely still asleep. It’s a habit you adopted after your friends began to have their own children, and one you’ve maintained for the kids you babysit. Tiptoeing back down the hallway, making sure to keep your footfalls as quiet as you can, you plop back down on the sofa, settling into the corner and taking a sip of your sparkling water, grabbing your novel and flipping it back open as you wait for the boy’s mother to return home.

It’s not that much later, only long enough for you to finish a single chapter of your book, before you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, announcing Irene’s return from the Barcelona squad’s night out. You don’t get up from the couch, merely setting your novel aside and uncrossing your legs, letting one dangle off the cushions.

She enters the room quietly, the low heels she’d left the apartment in abandoned on the mat by the front door so they don’t click on the wood floors, and when you look up you can see the flush on her face. You're not sure if it's the result of the chilly evening air or of her night out, but either way it's enough to make you swallow around a lump in your throat. The top and pants she'd left the house in are just as enticing now as they were several hours ago, and you wonder as she walks further into the apartment how you manage to stay sane around her.

“Hola,” she says quietly, setting her purse down in the center of the coffee table and taking a seat beside you on the sofa, sighing in relief as she relaxes into the cushions after a long night out. Your heart, as it so often does in the presence of the older woman, skips a beat as she comes nearer to you.

“How was everything?”

“All good,” you reply, beginning to recount your evening with Mateo. As always, the toddler had been easy, listening to you as well as one could expect a two-year-old to, and had fallen asleep on the sofa halfway through an episode of Bluey, only stirring briefly when you carried him to bed.

“He ate most of his dinner,” you relay with a smile, shaking your head at the memory of how the toddler had wrinkled his nose at the "yucky green" you'd provided for him, far more enthusiastic about the special treat that was the chicken nuggets unearthed from the freezer. “We had a bit of a struggle with the veggies, but other than that he was a perfect angel, like always.”

Your words bring a smile to the older woman’s face, and you can’t help but stop in your tracks for a moment, transfixed by the way her lips perk upwards, faint lines around her eyes becoming visible. You’ve seen her take an extra minute in the bathroom more than once after you arrive in the evenings, trying to conceal the bags beneath her eyes or the smile lines beginning to form at the corners, but you think that each and every part of her face is a work of art. 

You had no idea, when you first started babysitting for her, just how quickly your feelings for the older woman would grow. In the stolen moments at the beginning and end of the nights, before one of you walks out the door, you've learned more and more about Irene Paredes the person, not just the footballer, and something about her kept drawing you further and further in. You couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but you knew that you wanted her.

“Did you have a good night?”

Irene shrugs, shaking her head with a fond smile as she tells you about the Barcelona squad’s night out. She had mostly stayed on the sidelines alongside the other older players, keeping an eye on the girls closer to your own age as they enjoyed themselves, but Pina and Cata had managed to coax her and Alexia into having a drink and dance before she had excused herself.

The thought of Irene on the dance floor makes your heart pound, imagination beginning to run wild.

You’ve never been to Manuela’s, but from the way you’ve heard Irene describe it, there's absolutely no shortage of beautiful women. You know from the bits of information she’s given you that the Barcelona girls normally stick with one another, even while they’re out, but you’ve never been able to help yourself from wondering if any of the beautiful girls who frequent the club have tempted her enough that she’s taken one of them to her bed.

It's that thought, the unpleasant idea of her tangled between the sheets with a nameless, faceless girl from the club that makes your chest hurt. Before you fully notice what you're doing, you open your mouth and begin to speak, some jumbled mixture of thoughts spilling from between your traitorous lips.

"I mean if... If you ever wanted to stay out later... If someone..."

You trail off, clamping your lips shut as you realize just how inappropriate what you're implying is. You cringe, cursing yourself as you watch for her reaction, wait for her to get up off the couch and hand you your bags, let you know that now might be a good time for you to go home.

But she doesn't. Instead, all the older woman does is fix you with a questioning gaze, seemingly losing herself in thought for a moment.

She’s seated closer to you than she normally would be, than she ever has been before, and for a moment you wonder if she can hear your heart as it pounds in your chest, speeding up as she enters your space. You aren’t sure if it’s your imagination, the way her eyes seem to have fixed on you, tracing the details of your flushing face, eyes following your bottom lip as you nervously run your teeth over it.

“No,” she says at last. “None of the girls there have ever been who I wanted.”

Something about the word there catches your attention as it leaves her mouth, and you're certain that you must be losing your mind. Because there's no way, no way in the world that she wants you the way you want her.

The older woman reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and you’re fairly certain that you’ve stopped breathing. Her hand pauses by your left cheek, which you're absolutely certain is flushing redder than the cap on her cherry flavored chapstick.

And suddenly, before you can even fully process the fact that her soft but strong hands are cupping your scarlet cheeks, the older woman is leaning forward and pressing her lips to yours.

You must have imagined this moment a thousand times, but never in your wildest dreams had you imagined it would actually come true. The older woman’s mouth is soft but insistent against your own, exploring your lips with hers, and every coherent thought you’ve ever had is a distant memory as you move with her, kissing her back.

Kissing Irene is even better than you imagined it would be - and you could fill a planner with the amount of times you’ve imagined this exact scenario. Her mouth is gentle, but there’s an edge to her kiss that contains a promise, the knowledge that she’s capable of being anything but.

When your lips finally part, after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, you let out a little gasp, pupils blown wide as Irene stares into your eyes, both of you trying to process what has just happened. Even though she’s the one who kissed you first, Irene seems just as shocked as you are. But, behind her wide eyes is the same feeling you know she can easily spot in your own.

Desire.

“I… Fuck.”

You’re the one who leans forward this time, lips pressing against the older woman’s, the faint flavor of alcohol on her lips mixed with a hint of cherry from the chapstick you’ve seen her spread across her mouth more than once. The taste of her lips is intoxicating, and you can feel it going straight between your legs.

This kiss is deeper than the first, your arms wrapping around her strong shoulders to pull her closer, wanting to feel her body against your own. You part momentarily, gasping for air and only managing a brief breath before she’s kissing you again, every movement raising the stakes. You whine as her lips meet yours once more, hands coming to rest on your hips, pulling you closer. The older woman uses her own lips to pry yours open, her claiming tongue slipping into your mouth and beginning to explore further.

You let her take control of the kiss without protest, the arousal between your thighs intensifying exponentially with every second her body spends this close to your own. 

“Fuck,” she gasps, breaking away from your lips only long enough to grunt in your ear. “Fuck, I want you so badly.”

All you can do is nod, shaking your head up and down in agreement, because you don’t think you’ve ever wanted another person this badly in your entire life. 

“Irene,” you whine, pressing impossibly closer to her. “Please.” 

“Can I touch you?”

You’re nodding again before the question has even fully left her lips, and the older woman’s pupils go dark with how eager she is for you. She kisses you again, her football player’s strength showing as she pushes you backward onto the sofa, hands working their way up under your shirt. She doesn’t bother with the clasp of your bra, instead slipping her hands beneath the fabric to cup your breasts. Separating her lips from yours with a low groan, Irene immediately begins tracing a path over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a further wave of shivers up and down your spine. You moan quietly, remembering that you two aren’t alone in the apartment, but tilt your head anyway, granting her better access to your throat.

Advantage is rapidly taken, the Barcelona player letting a hint of teeth scrape across the delicate flesh of your throat as she rolls one of your nipples between her fingers, moaning quietly at the way you arch, pressing your chest further into her touch. 

Your nipples aren’t normally this sensitive, but something about the way Irene rolls and tugs at them makes the two buds feel as if they’re direct links to your most sensitive spot. Her touch is magical, and all you want is more.

As if the older woman can read your mind, the hand not busy exploring your chest slides further down, slipping under your black leggings and making you gasp, bringing a hand up to muffle your own sounds as long fingers begin to rub at your pussy over your panties. 

There’s far too much fabric between the two of you, and every thread feels like a cage. You need it off, need the last bits of separation between your heat and her touch gone, now. 

“Off,” Irene commands and, needing the barrier gone just as badly as you do, she doesn’t wait for you to obey before she’s hooking her own fingers in the waistband of your leggings, yanking them down over your legs. Your panties are removed in the same motion, both pieces of fabric coming to rest at your ankles. You try to kick them fully off, but only manage to completely free one leg before the older woman is pushing her way between your thighs, eagerly beginning to explore your bare pussy.

Her experience is clear from the first touch of her slender fingers against your naked heat, and you can’t help but press closer, spreading your legs further to give her better access. The older woman draws in a sharp breath as she circles your clit gently with one finger, exploring, watching for your reactions, the others gathering the rapidly accumulating wetness at your entrance. Irene's touch is electric, and the older woman finds herself becoming rapidly obsessed with the way your clit seems to plead for her touch.

With two of her fingers, Irene traces the outline of your pussy, hyper aware of just how wet you are, how your hole is begging silently for her fingers inside as she continues to rub your clit.

You let your eyes fall shut, eagerly anticipating just how good it will feel when the fingers you can sense lingering just shy of your entrance finally slide home, burying themselves inside your welcoming cunt. You’re practically pulsing with it, with how badly you need her inside, need to know just how she’ll fill you, what previously unknown spots inside the tips of her long fingers will be able to brush.

“Where do you want my fingers, bebita?” 

You whine, shifting your hips in an attempt to get even closer to her, to get her to slide her fingers into your throbbing heat. The digits, wet from your own slick, only withdraw further away from your needy hole, and you nearly sob with how badly you need the older woman, need her touch. 

Obvious as it may be, this nonverbal expression of how desperate you are for her to take you isn’t enough to satisfy the older woman, and she rubs your inner thigh soothingly. 

“Use your words, baby,” she coaxes. “Tell me where you need my fingers.”

The idea of using your words seems borderline impossible at the moment, your brain simply too overwhelmed with the reality of just how close her fingers are to slipping inside, but you can tell that you won’t get what you need until you do.

“My pussy,” you manage to whine, trying to stay as quiet as possible while pulsing with the need for her. “Please, Irene, I need your fingers in my cunt.”

Your words, base and simple as they are, are enough to get you what you need, and when Irene finally slides her fingers home, you can’t conceal the moan that tears its way free from your throat. You’re wet enough that the stretch of going from zero to two fingers inside your cunt brings nothing but pleasure, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning aloud when you feel the ridges of her fingers settle against your walls, the older woman pausing for a moment to let you adjust to the feeling of her digits inside.

Irene has to swallow a wrecked noise of her own as she finally slides her fingers inside your soaking pussy, the sensation of your silky walls against her skin sending her brain into overdrive. The sound of your voice, desperation tinging your whispers as you plead for her to move, to fuck you, is absolute music to her ears, and she doesn’t hesitate to comply with the enticing request. 

Her pace is slow at first as she starts to move, the older woman eagerly exploring every curve and contour of your cunt, leaking around her fingers. It’s so warm and inviting, and the older woman has no idea how she’s lasted this long without knowing what feel like inside.

Once she’s sure you’ve fully adjusted to the stretch of her digits inside of you, Irene speeds up her thrusts, curling her fingers in search of the most sensitive spots hidden inside your pretty cunt. 

It’s clear when she finds what she’s looking for, because your cunt clenches down around her fingers and you squeeze your pretty eyes shut as pleasure rocks your body. 

“Oh,” she says, voice a whisper that tickles your ear and makes you shudder happily. “Is that where you need me?”

You nod desperately, the entirety of your reality reduced to the sensation of her fingers against the sensitive tissue inside you, stroking it insistently as her thumb comes to brush against your swollen clit. As she fucks you with her fingers, the older woman tests out different motions on your bud with her thumb, searching for the pattern and pace to take what’s left of your breath away. 

You can’t help but let out a cry as she presses a little harder, circling your needy clit at just the right angle. Irene quickly presses her lips to yours again, reminding you that you’re not alone in the apartment.

“Shh,” the older woman says, swallowing your noises with her own tongue, collecting each one. “You’ve still gotta be quiet for me, bebita.”

You nod in understanding, kissing her back desperately, bringing a hand up to tangle in her hair. You can be quiet, no matter how good it feels, you can be quiet, just so long as she doesn’t stop what she’s doing between your legs. Irene chuckles against your lips, redoubling her efforts between your legs. Her talented fingers thrust in and out of your pussy, each time hitting the spot that makes you see stars.

“That’s it, baby,” she whispers, lips right beside your ear. “That’s it, take it for me. Take it, just like that.”

You toss your head back, more than willing to comply. Every cell of your body feels like it’s on fire, and you want nothing more than for the burning to consume you completely. 

Your orgasm arrives without warning, Irene’s thumb on your swollen clit combined with her talented fingers inside your cunt sending you crashing over the edge with a fury you haven’t felt in a long time. You have to bite down on your lip to keep in your sounds as your it overwhelms you, nails digging into Irene’s bare shoulders. You can feel the older woman’s smile as she kisses your neck, fingers still moving gently inside you, working you through your climax, helping you ride it for as long as you can.

You shudder, aftershocks still shaking your body as you begin to come down from your peak. She slides her fingers out and you bite down on your kiss-swollen lip to keep yourself from whining at the loss. It takes another minute before you're able to gather yourself, fully opening your eyes and taking in the sight of the gorgeous older woman above you.

Irene presses another kiss to your lips, this one gentle, and you can feel the smile on her face as you give a final shudder, sitting up and leaning into her.

"How was that, bebita?"

"Fucking perfect," you reply, unable to conceal a grin of your own as you note how flushed her face still is. Knowing that touching you has her seemingly almost as worked up as you are sends a thrill through your body and you reach for the button of her jeans, aiming to return the favor, only for the same pair of hands that had just brought you to such an incredible orgasm to push yours down, Irene’s lips brushing against your forehead.

“Don’t you worry about me, baby,” she says, and you feel your heart sink with sudden disappointment.

“Are you sure?”

Irene wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, clearly oblivious to the way your shoulders sink. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

You blush, wanting to protest that getting to touch her would be just about the furthest thing away from a worry- dream or fantasy come to life would be a more accurate description- but a sudden wave of shyness overcomes you, the whiplash of going from the high of your orgasm to the valley of being denied an opportunity to make Irene feel as good as she’s just made you feel making your throat close up.

“O-Oh,” you say quietly. “Okay. I just…”

You trail off, not sure what to say to that. It feels like, without meaning to or realizing what she’s done, the Barcelona defender has just tossed a bucket of ice water over you.

“I… I guess I should head home then,” you say quietly, trying not to let her hear the hurt in your voice, reaching down and pulling your leggings back up over your calves and thighs until they rest around your middle. Your panties aren’t quite soaked, for the pure fact that they had been around your ankles soon after her lips first met yours, but they’re still wet enough that putting them back on isn’t exactly comfortable. 

And more than that, you don’t want to leave. Your body is still purring with the aftermath of your orgasm, the last thing you want to do right now is leave her apartment and walk the few blocks home to your own. The route between your apartment and Irene’s is one you know well, lit with plenty of streetlamps and well-frequented on a Saturday night, so any anxiety you might feel can be connected purely to leaving her after what’s just happened, without being certain where you stand. 

Irene opens her mouth and you pause with your hand on the knob, waiting, hoping that she’ll say something, offer her bed to share for the night. 

“Let me know when you get home safe,” she says quietly, and you can’t help the way your chest clenches with a strange sort of pain. You hadn’t really expected her to offer for you to stay, not with the amount of eyes that could be watching someone like her at any given moment, but you still can’t help but wish she had.

You nod in response to her question, clutching your bag close to your side as you shut the door behind yourself, beginning the short walk home.

...

“Fuck.”

The second the door shuts behind you, the defender wishes she could throw it open again and call you back in.

She had wanted to, especially after watching you come apart under her touch, seeing how pretty you looked as your orgasm overwhelmed you. The words had been on the tip of her tongue, but you had beaten her to it, reaching for the door handle and exiling yourself before she could even offer, and she hadn’t offered any protests. 

Peeking in the door, ensuring that Mateo is still safe and sound in his bed, the Barcelona player tiptoes quietly down the hall, two doors down, and pushes her own door open and shut behind her.

As she pulls off her top, letting it fall to the floor, quickly followed by her pants and bra, Irene curses herself, pulling back the covers and slipping into the too-big bed on her own. It feels cold compared to the contrast of your warm body against her own, and her chest pangs with the regret of not asking you to stay the night. 

Back in your own apartment, you slide beneath your own covers, mind racing at a million miles an hour.

No matter how your chest might ache at the fact that you’re here, alone in your own bed, the memory of the older woman’s lips on yours, of her talented fingers bringing you to orgasm right there on the sofa, of muffling your moans in her shoulder, still sends a familiar jolt of electricity between your thighs. With a soft whine, you reach for your the bedside drawer where you keep your vibrator, turning it up before pressing it against your still-swollen clit.

Blocks away, Irene is doing the same, quietly gasping out a much-needed orgasm with your name on her lips, the memory of your mouth on hers and your silken flesh beneath her fingertips sending her over the edge.

As the older woman drifts off into an uneasy slumber, the space beside her conspicuously empty, she knows that, now she's had you once, she won't ever be able to get enough.

[xxsabitoxx]

Unfortunate [Teaser] full fic has been posted

Sekido, Karaku, Aizetsu, Urogi x AFAB! Reader

Warning the full length fic will include the following: gang banging, dub-con / non-con, forced oral, forced orgasm, BDSM themes… which just means they aren’t easy on you whatsoever, humiliation, bukkake, outdoor sex, brain washing, etc etc etc

A/N: so I will say, this fic is going to be a darker one. I don’t think I’ve ever written like… full on non-con… honestly this fic will somehow lean towards dub-con anyways. Like let’s be honest, it’s gonna be a very morally gray fic. I mean we aren’t moral people let’s be real.

You had fucked up, big time. “Such a stupid thing! You couldn’t figure out that we wanted you to do this?” The green eyed demon laughed again, watching as you looked between the three of them. Laughing just a bit harder as you realized only three of them stood before you. “I-but…” there was a fourth. You were certain of it… so where the hell did he go? “Karaku…you’re so loud…” the blue eyed demon whined, eyes locked on you as he referred to the green eyed demon. “Shut it, Aizetsu.”

The red eyed one spoke again, staff hovering just a bit off the ground as he scowled at you. “You’re probably wondering where the fourth one went, huh sugar?” The green eyed demon taunted you, completely torn, you couldn’t figure out where to look. If your eyes left the three of them they’d likely attack. If you didn’t try to figure out the location of the fourth, it was likely he’d kill you instead. “C’mon, little slayer… Show us what you got…” the blue eyed demon spoke, voice somber and eyes filled with sadness.

“Urogi, quit playing around.” The red eyed demon bellowed, another name, but your brain was going too fast to remember it. The flapping of wings pulled you from your daze, head whipping in the direction of the noise but it was too late. Two claws grabbed around your waist, the sudden thrust upward knocking your blade straight from your grasp. A scream of shock left you as you were torn straight off the ground, head flying upwards to see what had grabbed you. Somehow, it was the fourth demon.

He looked just as the other three did, the only differences being his eyes and his limbs. Golden eyes stared down at you, a familiar smirk on his lips. Instead of arms and legs, he had claws. His limbs resembled that of a bird or reptile, large wings expanding behind him. You jerked as he stopped, hovering in the air as he looked you over. It wasn’t until he raised his legs that you realized he was using them to grasp you opposed to his arms. “What a pathetic thing you are…” he laughed as he let you go.

You began to plummet to the ground, body and mind so disconnected from your reality that you couldn’t even muster a scream before he swooped down to grab you again. Now, you were facing him, eyes wide and chest heaving. “You humans are so easy to break… though I must say I’ve never seen the fighting spirit leave someone as quickly as it left you.” He admired your petrified face, slowly descending until he was in earshot of his other halves. “Yah know, Sekido? We shouldn’t kill her just yet…”

His eyes trailed over your body, a cruel grin covering his face as he spoke. “Why don’t we have some fun with her? It’s been years since I’ve gotten my fill of human…desire.” The implications had you feeling hot, panic ebbing up the back of your neck as you squirmed in his grasp. “Oh? There it is…” he dropped you a moment later. The fall wasn’t a big one but it still hurt when you hit the ground. The panic was mixing with dread as you realized what the situation was turning to. “Fun? Urogi why can’t we just eat her…” the blue eyed demon whined softly as he stared at you.

“Oi, Aizetsu don’t be such a prude…” the green eyed demon spoke, walking over to where you sat on the ground. He crouched before you, smiling in a way that made you want to run. “She’d certainly have a good time, don’t you think Sekido? You know we need your approval to do anything…” he turned to look at the red eyed demon, a soft thump behind you told you that the winged demon had landed. You met the red eyed demon’s gaze, swallowing thickly as you waited for him to decide your fate.

“There are rules…you know. We each get a turn, no hogging her.” You got the chills, listening intently to the demons conversing about having their way with you. “Listen here, sugar.” The green eyed demon grabbed your face, keeping your attention on him as he spoke. “We’re gonna have a hell of a time with you… satisfy us and maybe we’ll let you leave here with your life.” Behind you, the winged demon snickered, feet dragging on the ground as he too crouched behind you. “You’ll be able to satisfy the four of us with your body, right?”

[bishopsbeloved]

a night in

kate bishop x female reader

After dinner plans are cancelled, Kate Bishop skips straight to dessert

straight up smut, kate topping, she is so fucking horny, fingering, oral (R receiving), mentions of her strap, 1.4k words

Dating Kate Bishop keeps you on your toes.

At the last possible minute, as the two of you were ready to leave her apartment in white tie attire for the high-end Valentine’s dinner reservation awaiting you, she got a call from Clint that had her huffing and grunting and tugging off her blazer.

“Stupid— fucking— superhero thing,” she’d muttered, fumbling with her quiver, “won’t— give me a, uhm, a couple hours, baby, I’ll be so quick.”

When she comes home, you’re at the kitchen counter, preparing a homemade meal in place of your prior plans. You’re still in the tight little number she picked out for you to match with her suit, figuring she’d still want to take it off you. The front door slams, and almost instantly she’s dropped her gear on the ground and made a beeline towards where you’re stood.

“Hi, baby,” you murmur, setting down the knife and turning to face her. Within a moment she’s pressing herself against your back, hands on your hips, stopping you from moving.

“No,” she sighs against your skin, her chest to your back, her mouth on your neck. She leans into you, draping herself over your back to pin you between her body and the counter, and hold you in place. “Stay.”

You’re quiet, cheeks reddening as her lithe arms curl upwards to let her hands cup your tits. Sometimes she’ll hold them just for the sake of holding them, but today she wastes no time in beginning to roughly grope them over your dress, fingers tugging hungrily at the cleavage.

“Katie,” you sigh, unable to stop yourself from leaning back, instinctively relaxing into her touch. She’s solid behind you, deceptively strong, groaning against the skin of your neck and then taking it between her teeth. You whimper.

“Was thinking of these the whole time I was gone,” she tells you lowly. She fumbles with the front of your dress, whining in the back of her throat when she can’t free your tits with ease.

“J— just my tits?” you manage, overwhelmed by her, arching your back into her touch.

“All of you,” Kate admits hoarsely, her hands moving to undo the zipper of your dress now. “Just you. Fuck.”

She’s all over you, she’s everywhere, beginning to grind herself against your ass as she trails open-mouthed kisses across the newly exposed skin of your shoulders. She tugs your dress down further still, impatiently rutting against you like a dog in heat, and you wince as you hear fabric rip.

“S’fine,” she mutters against the skin of your spine, sending shivers down it. She begins to tug you towards the sofa. “C’mere.”

“Katie, the food,” you remind her.

“I don’t— screw the food, we’ll get takeout. You taste better.”

She grips your hips as she sits on the sofa and pulls you onto her lap. The dress is somehow squirmed off of you entirely, leaving you in nothing but panties, and as Kate fights with the buttons of her own shirt you’re finally able to take her in — her pretty lips are parted as she pants softly, cheeks a little flushed, pupils blown. She looks up at you as she tosses her buttonup aside and a thrill of arousal shoots through you as her darkened, hungry eyes lock onto yours and finally your lips meet.

You whine openly into her mouth as her tongue slides against yours, and her hands make their way to your tits again, her thumbs toying with your nipples. Without the boundary of your dress you can feel how cold her hands are, and it makes you tense, squirming a little.

“Shhh, sh sh,” she soothes against your lips, “just let me play with you. Been— been thinking of you like this all night, baby, fuck.” She drags out the syllables, her voice dripping with need, and she’s not the only thing that’s dripping.

“You’re so wet, huh?” Kate muses as your wetness seeps through your underwear and onto her trousers. She jogs her leg, rubbing against your cunt and watching with amusement as you squirm. “Yeah? That feel good, baby? You want more?”

You cry out in the affirmative, and one hand stays on your tits while the other slides down to nurse your overwhelming wetness. She toys with you over your underwear, teasing your clit until you’re shivering in her arms, before growing impatient with her own games as she often does and sliding her cold hand beneath the lacy fabric. You yelp at the contact, and let out a low guttural cry as she slides two fingers into you without hesitation.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she soothes you, lazily curling her fingers inside of you as the pad of her thumb makes its way onto your clit. “Just be a good girl and take it. I’ve been outside working, I’ve been so cold, and I was thinking of this the whole time. You’re gonna be good for me and warm me up, okay? You gonna warm up my fingers?”

“Y— yes,” you cry out. You’re rolling your hips into her, arms curled around the back of her neck, and as the pleasure grows more intense your head falls forward to rest on her shoulder. You pant softly as, on every thrust into you, Kate fucks into the sensitive spot of your gummy walls that makes your vision go white.

“So— s’good,” you whine, breath hot against her skin, and you feel her shiver a little.

“Yeah?” she murmurs, picking up the pace a little. With every thrust your wetness seeps out of you and down onto her thigh, soaking it. “God, you’re so fucking tight,” she says desperately, whiny, her own hips beginning to rut up into you as she fucks you, and it’s the way that she gets off on your pleasure alone that has you gasping and teetering on the edge.

“Cum— cum on my fingers, baby,” she almost begs, an arm looped around your waist to hold you in place as she fucks you steadily, sinking her teeth into the soft skin of your neck. With a cry you obey, blinding waves of euphoria rolling over you as you clench around Kate so hard that she struggles to continue thrusting into you.

“Fuck, fuck,” she grits, fucking you through your orgasm and shuddering a little. The realisation that she’s cum in her pants just from fucking you has you whining, dragging your fingernails down her back, rocking into her. Eventually she pulls her hand from your cunt, sucking your slick off of her fingers and whimpering at the taste.

“Have to taste you,” she mumbles, almost to herself, easing you off of her lap onto the sofa and then getting on her knees. “Just take what I give you, baby, so good for me.”

Kate nudges your thighs apart, burying herself between them and running her tongue up your slit. She groans at the taste, not caring for your little whimpers of overstimulation.

“So fucking good,” she breathes, one arm wrapping itself around each of your thighs to hold you in place. You’re too far gone to muster a reply.

Kate Bishop always eats you out like a woman starved. Tonight, though, she’s hungrier than you’ve ever seen her. She laps at you messily, her nose nudging against your sensitive clit, desperate to engulf you. You’re crying out her name, writhing, and when you reach out to wind your hand through her hair she looks up at you through her lashes. Her eyes are wide and dark, lips swollen, the entire lower half of her face glistening with your juices. She blinks up at you hungrily, still lapping at your clit, swallowing everything you have to offer her, and the sight paired with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you is enough to have you cumming on her tongue. She hums approvingly against you, the vibrations only prolonging your orgasm, and you feel so overwhelmingly good you can’t even move. Eventually she slows down, sensing your need for a break, and makes her way back up your body to tug you into her arms and hold you close to her.

“So good for me,” Kate soothes you, a hand combing through your hair. “So good at taking everything I give you. So, so good, my gorgeous baby.” She waits until you’ve come down a little more, until your eyes are a little less glassy, before grinning at you. “Happy Valentine’s, sweet girl. You want to ride my strap next?”

[hotreadingwitch]

Bucky x Reader - Again?

Content Warnings/Kinks: dominance, praise kink, daddy kink, choking, scratching (marks), breath play, breast play, finger sucking, fingering, cum swallowing, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex (multiple rounds) 

Again? 

“You know I wasn’t sure if you were going to ask me out again…”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky smiled slowly in that way Y/n was starting to think might just drive her crazy, “Why’s that?” 

“No reason in particular I guess” she blushed.

“You should give yourself more credit you know? You’re a beautiful and smart woman Y/n” 

His steel eyes lingered on hers for a beat too long before he moved to hold the restaurant door open for her. 

~ 3 hours later ~ 

“Well, this is my place” she smiled nervously as she invited Bucky into her apartment. 

“It’s very nice Y/n” he nodded curtly as he assessed the place. 

Y/n shook her head, chuckling at the polite way he talked. She’d noticed him talking this way on their last date, using odd expressions, almost sounding as if he was from a different time. 

“Come, I’ll give you a tour” she offered with a small chuckle, gesturing to the small space. 

She took his gloved hand, leading him in a small circle through the apartment. He glanced down at the connection but if he had anything to say about it he kept his thoughts to himself. 

“Kitchen” she pointed. 

“Kitchen” he affirmed, bobbing his head slightly. 

“Living room” 

Another curt nod. 

“Bathroom, in case you need it” she smiled, “and…Bedroom” 

They stood in front of her door. It seemed to Y/n as if Bucky was trying his hardest to not peak into the cozy room or maybe there was something else that he was trying to resist. 

“Bucky…” she said quietly, her voice thicker than she’d have liked. 

His gloved hand came up to her cheek, caressing the skin with a softness she somehow hadn’t expected, the leather smooth against her skin. 

“Can I—“ he seemed to gather himself, “Can I kiss you?” 

“You can kiss me” 

The tension between them crackled. As Bucky leaned down, his tall, broad frame curving down to meet hers as she tilted her parted lips upward. When he finally captured her lips with his it was like they both were suddenly put in a trance, unable to keep their hands off of each other. Bucky’s hands slid under the fabric of her shirt, gripping at her waist just as hers secured themselves behind his neck. 

“Fuck” he groaned onto her mouth. 

Guiding them into her bedroom, she moved backward until he knees hit the edge of her plush mattress. His hand grazed her neck lightly as their kisses slowed. She melted into his touch, sighing onto his mouth at the feeling. He parted their lips slowly, dragging away from her only by an inch or two to ask, “May I?” 

When she nodded, both his hands gripped her breasts, kneading their tender tissue. He kissed between them and down her stomach, stopping above her pussy, concealed still by her short skirt and panties. 

“You’re so fucking perfect doll” he groaned as he slid them down her legs. 

“Doll?” She chuckled lightly, arching a questioning brow, “How old are you?”

Bucky looked completely serious when he replied, “106” 

She laughed harder, her chuckle interrupted as Bucky caressed her cheek, pulling her in for another hungry kiss. Their mouths collided, mashing their lips and teeth together. They kissed for minutes but somehow it felt like hours. Y/n knew she could kiss him forever if given the opportunity. 

When he finally spread her legs, not bothering to take off her skirt, his eyes darkened in a way that, at any other time with any other man, might be considered scary. 

“I—” he started, uncharacteristically shy. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, I just…it’s been a while since I’ve done something like this—I don’t usually…” he gulped, slipping his glove off, revealing a dark metal arm that shimmered in the low light. 

He looked at her expectantly as her eyes widened slightly. 

“I need you to touch me” she begged then, her voice breathy, “Now” 

His gaze trailed down her slowly, skirt scrunched up, face flushed, pussy bare, and all for him. The first contact of his fingers was desperate, like he couldn’t resist touching her and was so glad that she needed him as much as he needed her. He rubbed over her clit gently, using three warm fingers flat against her, making her hips buck upward in response.

“Fuck” she breathed, gasping as his fingers spread her lips, playing with her clit with intense focus.

As he rubbed against her, his mouth dived down, tasting her hole. He moaned onto her, the vibrations making her shiver, as he licked up the slickness that was already there. 

“You taste so fucking good” he groaned again, “Fuck—doll you’re driving me crazy” 

She ground her pussy up to meet his prodding tongue, shaking as his fingers pleased her clit. Y/n felt his other hand, the mysterious metal one, reach up and caress her neck, the cool material sending another shiver down her spine.

“Yeah that feels good doesn’t it?” he chuckled as her back arched upwards, her clit connecting to his other hand’s calloused fingers. 

Warmth shot through her body, making her cheeks flush and her breath hitch. Y/n practically screamed, crying out and shaking as he removed the hand from her neck, pushing two fingers just inside her wet hole instead. She was soaking, yes, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t tight. In fact, she was so clenched that he could barely press his fingers further than an inch or two into her. 

“Doll…” he groaned as if in awe, “Fuck—this pussy’s so tight”

Y/n could feel the familiar sensation building in her lower belly. He plunged his two metal fingers in and out of her, caressing a low, sensitive spot within her. 

“Fuck” she whined, the feeling intense and rising quicker and quicker by the second. 

She kept her grip on his thick hair as her hips bucked rhythmically toward his eager hands. He didn’t even have his mouth on her and yet he’d brought her to the edge somehow anyway. “Ah—shittt” she gasped, her breath hitching. 

He held down her hips with his arms, holding her pussy in place as she squirmed with pleasure. 

“Cum for me doll, cum on these fingers” he commanded, eyes full of lust. 

Bucky ordering her to cum with his fingers pleasing her like she’d never been pleased before was enough to make her burst all over his hands. She throbbed and throbbed, pleasure coursing through her like a rushing river. 

“Mmm,” she moaned quietly, satiated as Bucky rubbed slowly over her whole pussy, the feeling calming beneath his large palm. When he finally removed his fingers from her, her legs shook as if instantly missing the loss of his touch. He chuckled darkly before kissing her, capturing her mouth in a quick tangle of tongues. She felt his flesh hand gripping her neck, the feeling causing her to whimper on his lips. 

“You’re killing me doll” he groaned, eyes dark, “So fucking beautiful when you cum for me” 

His lips kissed at her jaw, right above where his hand was squeezing roughly at her neck, as he raised his other hand to her lips, placing two soaked, metal fingers on her lips. 

“Open” he instructed, his tone leaving her with no other option, not that she’d want to say no. Y/n obeyed, taking his fingers into her mouth, making him groan at the sight. She moaned as she closed her lips around them, appreciating the feeling of fullness and the taste of her own cum on his cold fingers. 

She reached down his front, pulling at his belt buckle with a low, desperate whine.

“Please Bucky” she begged, her doe eyes conveying her need. 

“Fuck, I want to…but I can’t—“ he paused frustrated, his voice a low growl, “I can’t go slow, it’s gonna be rough doll, I need it rough—fast”

She nodded obediently, slinking back further onto the bed until she hit the headboard, Bucky following in her wake as if literally mesmerized by her. His left hand caressed her side, pulling the rest of her clothes off of her, as she did the same to him, leaving them both bare. 

“Daddy?” His head snapped up to look at her, eyes darkening more and more as the silence stretched. 

When he finally spoke, his voice strained, “Yes?” 

“I need you to fuck me now” 

“…I don’t want to hurt you” 

“I don’t care” she shook her head, reaching back to spread her ass cheeks, making him grunt at his view, his palms immediately gripping her ass, “Don’t you get that I want it as much as you do? I want you to hurt me, to fuck me so hard you can barely control yourself. Unless you don’t want me anymore?”

“Fuck—doll, I—” Bucky slipped himself between her legs, grinding his hips slowly forward and back so that his massive cock became coated with her slick, “Are you sure?” 

“Yes Daddy” 

With a grunt, he stretched her hole with his large size, pushing so much of it into her that her legs spread on instinct, one hooking back over him. His hands grabbed at her waist, every inch of his taut, naked body on display for her to turn and see as he pulled her fully down onto his cock. The fit of him was so snug, so tight that his groan was practically feral.

“Yeah—fuck yes” he encouraged as his cock began to slap in and out of her, “Shit, I’m fucking stretching you doll” 

Bucky tilted her head back with a small nudge under her chin, his lips crashing down onto hers so fast that she barely had time to breathe.

“Mmm,” she moaned into his mouth, wincing at the size of him and the immediate speed of his thrusts. 

His cock was ridiculously big but she took it like the good girl she was, practically beaming the more he praised her, telling her how good she was and how much her tight pussy drove him crazy. Each thrust felt like heaven and it was only made better when he slunk a hand down between her legs to start rubbing her clit, pleasing her in every way. 

“Hold your breath doll” he ordered then, his voice husky in her ear, “And choke yourself for me”

She obeyed without a second thought, sucking in a breath, struggling as she squeezed her throat, using both hands to cut off her air supply as much as possible. "Yes,” she moaned, her noises muffled. 

The feeling of her own hands tight around her neck, paired with Bucky pleasing her, was everything she needed to be sent over the metaphorical edge. Her body writhed in front of him as heat pulsed within her. Her heart raced in her chest the more and more she refused to breathe, her body making a mess all over his cock.

“That’s it” she finally gasped, her lungs filling up with short stifled breaths, “Daddy…” 

His pace was fast, dangerous, and practically animalistic. Her breasts bounced up and down as she ground backward, her hips snapping to meet each and every one of his powerful thrusts. “You—you” she stuttered, her voice quivering before turning to a sigh, “Fuck, that feels so good” 

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s my girl” he praised, grunting.

Soon, the feeling began to dissipate, the strong waves of her orgasm lessening, her legs shaking. But he kept thrusting. 

“Again?” she whimpered, looking back to meet his steely gaze. 

“Again” he grunted. 

Her pussy was aching, overstimulated, and sore but the feeling of him hitting even deeper within her was enough to make her nod her head obediently and murmur a small yes. Bucky flipped her over then so that she was on her back, facing up at him. He continued fucking her then, roughly thumbing her stiff clit. Her hole was so sensitive, the combination was enough to make pleasure rise up quickly within her all over again. 

“Fuck” she whispered as he curved forward over her, sucking her jaw as his other, metal hand, squeezed her throat. Her eyes scrunched closed, allowing her mind to focus exclusively on the feelings.

"Don’t take your eyes off of me doll” he growled, “don’t you fucking dare” 

Eyelashes fluttering, she resisted the urge to close her eyes, his tight, relentless grip on her jaw making sure her eyes never dared to look away from his dark gaze. Her body shook beneath him, her legs and arms all quivering, “Yes Daddy…” 

She arched her back, pushing her breasts up to touch his chest as she threw her head back into the pillow and her hands up to grip the headboard. The angle of her body only allowed him to fuck her deeper, her hands holding on so tightly that her knuckles were turning pale. Y/n’s room filled with the sounds of sweaty skin slapping as Bucky’s hips snapped against her soaking wet pussy. 

“Do you feel that doll” he growled as one hand played with her clit, still thrusting in and out, “That’s how it feels to have my fucking cock throbbing in your pretty little pussy”

Her head lulled to the side but his strong hand kept her face forward, looking straight at him as she came. She whined as her pussy pulsed, tightening around his pounding cock. Bucky moved his hand down under her back as it arched up off of the mattress, her body overwhelmed by the pleasure. As he grunted hoarsely in her ear, she could tell he was cumming too. The feeling was like a bucket of ice water washing over her body, sweet intensity running through her veins, making her shiver. She cried out, the pleasure was too intense. 

Bucky groaned, fucking into her faster and faster, playing with her clit all the while, as he pushed them both through their second orgasm. 

“Fuck, that’s it doll” he cursed, “So wet—fuck—so fucking good for me”

She gripped his broad shoulders, scratching down his tanned back, her nails no doubt leaving marks that claimed her as his as much as the cum dripping out from her pussy made sure she belonged solely to him. 

[celestibabs]

pairing; billy hargrove x f!reader

contents; 18+ mdni. boudoir photography, heavy petting, dry humping if you squint | wc: 1k

note; starting off simple for my return to writing... nothing too long or too spicy, but we all know that won't last very long.

Billy snatches the cigarette from his mouth as if it scolded his taste buds, flipping the envelope you’d handed him in his hand with intrigue. His perfect blonde eyebrow raised in query, he raises his gaze at you pointedly. 

“What is it?” He speaks flatly, exhaling the smoke in his lungs slowly so it kisses at his cheekbones. 

“Just open it,” you murmur quietly, worrying your lower lip with your teeth. Billy hums softly, fussing with the lip of the envelope with his fingertips and teasing your nerves. 

You’d tortured yourself over a Christmas gift for Billy, thinking of all possible options and how he’d be entirely unimpressed. Minus a new set of weights or a large tub of some kind of protein-shake powder, you knew he’d probably shove your gift in a cupboard and forget about it until he needed to take the Christmas lights out next year. 

Desperation had kicked in around two weeks before Christmas day. Wandering in and out of the few shops in Hawkins like a demented zombie had resulted in empty hands and muttered curses of frustration. Unprompted comments by Billy insisting that he didn’t want any gifts had fueled your indignation, especially given his tone had somehow strayed into something pitiful in comparison to the monotonous, bored drawl he usually offered.  

The idea came to you spontaneously. Nancy had called to tell you about a playful tiff she’d had with Jonathan over some Playboy magazine’s she’d found in his bedroom while moving her things in for Christmas. Her voice had practically faded into oblivion when you’d remembered the torn-out Playboy pages plastered to the wall above Billy’s dresser. 

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that Billy was pulling apart the ribbon you’d tied around the neatly wrapped gift, you’d begun to feel queasy.

Before tearing the wrapping paper, Billy prolongs your suffering with a smug smirk, clearly noticing your anticipation. He lifts the item, shaking it like a five year old rattling their present box as though it would offer insight into what lay inside. “Give me a hint.”

“Billy,” you huff, exasperated already with his antics, “Just open the stupid thing before I take it back.” 

He hums, finally pinching the edge of the wrapping between his thumb and forefinger before pulling upwards, the paper ripping open to reveal the contents inside. 

Billy paused, slowly exhaling the dregs of his cigarette in a gentle stream of smoke through his nose. 

Your heart catches. 

The glossy pages of the personalised Playboy Magazine rippled slightly as Billy brought the images closer for a better look. It was unmistakably you on the front cover, perched in a seductive position on a stool dressed in an unbuttoned blouse with peaks of the black, lacy lingerie you wore underneath. 

Poor Jonathan had been mortified when you’d begged him to take the last minute images. Despite his reluctance, and Nancy observing his every move to ensure he didn’t stare too long, he’d worked hard to ensure he could emulate the magazine quality. Of course, you hadn’t told him who they were for.

You knew you looked fantastic, but Billy’s silence was unnerving you. 

“There’s more inside,” you murmur, cheeks burning, “Some don’t have my face in them so you can tear them out and put them on your wall.” 

Another slow exhale, Billy’s eyes flitting over the magazine cover had your heart lurching in fear. Was he angry? He still didn’t say much when he began to thumb through the pages, stopping on a particularly scandalous page where you swept aside the bounce to reveal the curve of your breast, lips parted seductively but the image excluding the rest of your face. 

“Billy, I’m–” 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, taking his cigarette from his lips and stubbing it into an ashtray settled on the arm of the sofa you’re both perched on. “You want me to pin photos of you half naked on my wall, for everyone to see?”

Billy reaches forwards, taking a hold of your chin in his palm and pulling you forwards so your noses bumped together. Your breath hitches, seizing in your throat when you feel Billy’s breath fan across your face. 

“You little slut,” Billy coos, his free hand working its way between your knees to inch up the inside of your thigh. His touch leaves a delicious burn, like the smouldering embers of his cigarette end had set his fingertips alight. 

Billy’s lips brush against your own as he speaks, his fingers ghosting over the seam of your trousers to apply slight, teasing pressure to your clit. “I’ll put them up on the wall opposite the door. Make sure everyone gets to see how much of a slut you are for me.” 

You can see Billy’s cock straining against the right denim of his jeans. He’s all worked up at the idea of showing you off like this, and seems intent on dragging you down into a horny-haze too. 

“If you’d like that,” you whisper, voice catching slightly in your throat as Billy leans his head down to drag the flat of his tongue across your pulse point. You hear him chuckle softly, feel the rumble against your neck, and you’re almost certain it’s because he can somehow taste your arousal through your skin. 

“I’d love that,” he smirked, his hands slowly working their way beneath your shirt and pushing it upwards to expose the naked flesh of your stomach, squeezing at your breast when you arch your back for him. 

“Merry Christmas, Billy,” you laugh at that, your giggle faltering into a soft whine when Billy punches at your nipple, rolling the stiffened bud between the pads of his thumb and forefinger to tease you further. “Mhmmm,” Billy hums, nipping at your neck and slowly laying you back against the couch. He doesn’t seem to mind that the ashtray that had balanced on the arm of the sofa tips off onto the floor, or that the magazine falls to the floor. He’s far too busy grinding his hard cock against you. “A very merry Christmas it is.”

[dearharriet]

About Time | Chapter 1

james potter x reader time travel au | 3k words | contents

page 1 | next

00:00 — 1 JANUARY

James waited until he’d fallen into his childhood home, half-plastered and sad and staring himself in the eyes through his bathroom mirror. His gaze seemed colder, lonelier than usual, and when he splashed his face with cool water it chilled him to the bone.

He’d never been unsettled by solitude, never minded much retreating to an empty bed at the end of a long day. Until then.

That’s when he knew he had to go back.

+

“Pardon me.”

The voice from behind you was so sudden and deep that you jumped, whipping around clumsily to meet it.

“God, you startled me!”

Laying eyes on the man responsible, you instantly released any ill-will you had.

“Hi, sorry,” he said, and you were already quite smitten.

He was young, though surely not any younger than you. Handsome too, in a dismantling way, like he might take you apart if you were an old clock, just to see what made you tick.

And if he wasn’t young and handsome, he’d still gain a little credit just in looking so guilty for spooking you.

“Hi.”

This was January, and you were out on the veranda, so your breath escaped you visibly. You were aware of it trickling upward as the handsome man smiled shyly and introduced himself.

“I’m James.”

Leaning up against a white banister, you snuggled further into your shawl, watching him. He was a few steps above you, and taller by a lot anyways, so it posed a bit of a strain.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Lovely name,” James commented, not missing a beat. It surprised you, but you rallied easily.

“And yours.” You sipped your drink, and when he hadn’t formed a response, decided to elaborate. “Classic.”

James ducked his head in a dashing sort of way, adding a little humility to the lethal mix of attractive traits he contained.

“Yeah, but don’t let it take any precedence. It's strangeness across the board for the rest of me.”

Your lips curled up at the corners.

“For some reason I think that’s true,” you teased, eyes shining with mirth.

There were lots of ways to be flirted with, several of which left a bad taste in your mouth and a loneliness that felt unquenchable in your chest, but this you liked.

James spoke like he was on his toes, constantly steeped in anticipation. If possible, he seemed to savor every moment while simultaneously rushing into better, deeper territory.

He came further down the steps then, and you appreciated the relief on your neck. The smell that drifted off of him was like honey and biscuits, perpetually warm on your senses, even in late winter.

“So how do you know Marlene,” James asked, and you felt the tightness of excitement in your chest realizing that he was going to stay and talk to you.

“Work,” you told him, “she’s a madwoman. Flirts with all the customers.”

James kept a polite distance from you, gravitating toward a patch of light from the windows. He wore a tailored suit that was primarily night blue, which somehow fit him with both strict lines and a charming rumpled messiness.

You wondered if he’d get any easier to look at.

“That sounds like Marly,” James agreed, looking fond. A tiny needle of jealousy pricked you, which was ridiculous, because if this were Marlene’s boyfriend she’d have been shouting it from the rooftops.

Clinging to that affirmation, you asked, “you two are familiar?”

Each of James’ hands held the opposite bicep in a half-hearted cross, aiding a small shrug.

“We went to school together.”

You nodded, growing envious for new reasons.

“That seems to be the theme around here. I’m sad I missed it.”

James smiled warmly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Would it make you feel better if I told you it was boarding school? We had to share dorms all year.”

Fiddling with a ring on your finger, your gaze skipped to the square orange portal that led to the party inside. The window was one on the back wall of the parlor, and it became devastatingly easy to pick out the school club from the others inside. Marlene lounged beside other sharp girls and well-dressed guys, all of them laughing and bickering like siblings. You craved to be at the heart of it more than anything.

“Co-Ed?” you asked abruptly, tearing away from the vibrant crowd to see James’ face contort.

“No,” he laughed. “I roomed with Sirius, Remus and Frank.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Four to a room?”

James’ laugh thickened, his spectacles glinting white as his head tossed back. His amusement was acerbic, corrupting your bewilderment until it was lost to a goofy smile.

“I do feel much better, thank you,” you said. “Private school sounds awful.”

“Well, don’t rub it in, now,” he chided lightly.

An army of wind marched around the corner of the estate then, fighting through your thin shawl. James’ eyes traced your shivering frame as he stepped ever closer.

“Erm, hey, I was wondering—”

The patio door opened, delicate glass inlaid with iron, and yet your moment with James seemed the thing to shatter. A fair-skinned man stepped out, a hunt in his eyes, and you hoped whatever it was for wasn’t James.

Nyx-dark hair moved like shadows over the night sky, reflecting the party inside glossily. His head turned, and then he was laying eyes on your companion.

“James!” The man said, his poised effect splitting down the middle, revealing a collie’s energy. He motioned for James to meet him up on the landing. “C’mon mate, Remus has a plan.”

James shook his head simply.

“Do it without me, yeah?”

Something territorial swept over James’ friend’s face, and he suddenly looked you over. You were embarrassed to only warrant a millisecond of his attention.

“Bollucks,” he declared, challenging James to disagree. “Let’s go.”

Then he returned swiftly inside, leaving both French doors and your chest swung open. James sighed, the weight of a lost battle on his shoulders, and found your eyes again.

“Sorry, that’s Sirius,” he explained, and you supposed that would make sense.

“The roommate,” you provided. James nodded.

“I swear he’s nicer.”

You wouldn’t say you found him rude, just unfriendly. He certainly seemed warm, as did everyone at the party, but to a select few people. A select few that didn’t include you.

You said, “I’m sure.” If James thought someone was nice, they probably were. He seemed a good judge of character. Unless you had very poorly judged his character, which you wouldn’t put past yourself.

James winced. “I have to go. But, um—”

“James, mate, come on,” Sirius called from inside, and then he and another, taller man poked their heads out to check his progress in detaching himself from you.

“Alright, one second!”

You’re not sure why you said it, perhaps the people pleaser overriding your system, but you said, “it’s alright, James. You can go.”

It didn’t make him look any less torn. His head whipped back and forth between you and his friends, trying to find a solution.

Of course you wanted him to stay, but you didn’t want to hold him hostage, so you tried your best to look supportive of whatever he chose.

In the end, he stepped close to you, brows pinched with regret.

“I won’t be long. Will you—would you stay?”

You pressed your lips together in a tight smile, choking back the clawing barrage of disappointment.

“‘Course,” you said.

James blew out a breath, relaxing his tense posture.

“I really swear it. Back before you can say ‘private school,’ yeah?”

You laughed weakly, taking a long look at him for memory.

“Yeah.”

Reluctantly, James backed away from you, then turned to climb the steps toward his friends. They were sagged with impatience, hanging onto his every step the same way you were, except for different reasons. In a way, you were more jealous of these two than you were of Marlene, because they were like James’ brothers. They knew him better than probably anyone, you guessed.

James hopped up onto the landing and glanced back to you, frowning slightly. The light from inside caught his lenses just so, hiding his eyes from you, and that small detail alone felt like the end of all things.

Then, Sirius and his accomplice took each of James’ arms and hauled him inside, shutting the doors behind them.

Shivering again, you watched the three of them appear in the window, heads bowed together in conspiracy. James looked different there, like something out of a movie. He snapped right into place with the rest of them, glittering and masterfully made.

It was clear he had a world of his own—one that you would likely never penetrate, no matter how badly you wanted for it, no matter how long you waited in the cold.

Marlene would forgive you for running off, but you’d never forgive yourself if you got sick for a silly dream, so you left the party and made peace with the what-if that was James.

+

James fell headfirst out of the cramped coat closet, cursing as his legs tangoed and lost to a tall pair of rain boots. In his fall, he took down with him three raincoats and a hanging organizer (six hats, a bucket of gloves, and five and half pairs of sandals).

He was already tired and fuming when he entered the closet, and now he felt he’d completely lose it any second. Disengaging from his fight with evil clothing, he scooched on his bum to the scrunched up hall runner that paved the Mckinnon’s entry.

Near the end of it someone cleared their throat, and James looked up to see Fabian and Gideon Prewett, the nosiest blokes in the world. Fantastic.

“Look who we have here,” said one twin, the other smiling wickedly, ready to pick up the second half of their routine snooping.

“Off for a snog-sesh with someone, are we, James?”

Battling to his feet, James let out a long-suffering sigh, already moving their way.

“Yeah, your mum,” he snarked.

As they both laughed, James prepared to push between them, but they parted before he had to. He walked through their flank, relieved yet nervous—the typical reaction those two elicited.

Leaving them behind, the narrow hall forked off into several different rooms, offices and kitchens and a library. James played here even before he was in school with Marlene, so he knew every corner like it was his own home. He headed for the parlor.

Even for someone who had never been in the house, finding James’ destination would be easy. All they had to do was follow the music.

In the parlor, chaise lounges were hardly visible under old school friends and their families, the walls lined with business partners and gossiping aunts. Smaller children ran amok, like birds weaving between a forest of mingling adults. The hearthfire hissed and spat, bound to take down at least one fashionably dressed lady before the year was over.

James swept his gaze over the bobbing heads and flying hands, looking for someone in particular. Sirius’ thick black hair beat like a raven's wing near the back of the room, so that’s where the bespectacled boy went.

On his path, Remus stood glued to a wall, looking very antisocial. He pinged from one crutch to another, taking up new residence at James’ side.

“Where’d you run off to?”

“Had to take a piss,” James said casually. He’d grown accustomed to small lies like that, since no one knew about his little habit.

Remus didn’t question it, just picked through the crowd to where Sirius was.

“Padfoot,” James called, and he didn’t have to say anything else. Sirius excused himself and met the two of them without question, a silent understanding that forged the undercurrent of their friendship.

James led them all into another hall, one closer to the crystalline patio doors.

“I heard,” James started, “that Marlene has a pot stash somewhere ‘round here.”

Sirius and Remus glanced at each other, and James knew he had them. Even if they came up dry, the two of them would snoop just to snoop, and Remus obviously wanted away from the party anyways.

“Whereabouts do you think it is,” Sirius asked, looking at a mounted painting like it might be involved.

“Dunno,” James said, “but if we split up I bet we’d find it before the new year.”

Sirius grinned, and it spread onto Remus’ lips.

“I can take downstairs, and you and Pads can go up,” Remus said.

James shook his head.

“No, you two can go.” The two of them gave James skeptical looks, but he shrugged. “I have heavy footsteps, they’d hear me up there.”

Sirius’ expression cleared, and then he was nodding along. ���Right.” He took Remus’ arm in his grasp and pulled him along. “Let’s go, Moony. I bet we can find some before Prongs.”

James heard Remus object that, “it’s only in one place,” before their conversation was lost by distance. Then, he turned around and pushed through the back doors, praying you were where he left you.

You were. Just like last time, your back was turned to him. You were staring at the clear sky, gripping your wrap close to your chest. James remembered that he’d startled you before, so he latched the doors as noisily as possible. You still didn’t come around.

He supposed that was for the best, actually, since he’d changed something already. He crept down the steps, feeling terrible for sneaking up on you, and wondering what you might’ve been thinking about that kept you so distracted.

“Pardon me,” James begged, and you spun around in shock.

“God, you startled me!”

James smiled, and your eyes trailed all over him. He couldn’t say he minded, since he was doing the same.

You reminded him of a mouse—shy but necessarily bold, holding yourself up outstandingly well as a stranger in a roomful of friends. That was, until you dipped outside and didn’t return.

“Sorry, hi,” he apologized, really meaning it this time. As expected, you smiled shyly, golden champagne tilting in the glass you held.

“Hi.”

A swath of mist escaped your mouth with the exhaled greeting. James had to remind himself that you didn’t remember the first time this happened, so you wouldn’t know his name.

“I’m James.”

You leant back, neck craning to keep his eyes. James stepped down to accommodate you, and your brows smoothed.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“That’s a pretty name,” James said, getting bolder. It was hard to hold himself away from you.

You dropped your head then, smiling primly at the stone steps.

“Thank you,” you said, instead of complimenting James in return.

James blinked. What happened?

“Yours—”

“I’m—”

James paused as you both spoke at the same time, looking at you the way someone might look at a tricky puzzle.

“Sorr—”

“You can—oh.”

Fingers pressed to your mouth, you looked at James, a tentative smile in your eyes. James sighed, and then laughed strangely. He motioned for you to go ahead, only to find your hand unfolding into the same gesture. Both of you stared at each other for a beat before falling into a fit of giggles.

“You go,” James said finally, smiling. You just shook your head.

“I don’t even remember.”

James squinted at your rosy cheeks, his lips picking up at the corners. You could lead a horse to water, he supposed.

The temptation to learn more about you began to win him over, so he bent a few rules.

“So you work with Marlene, I hear,” he spoke, fibbing ever so slightly.

You smiled a bit, none the wiser. “I do, yeah.”

James looked inside, checking for dark hair or an itchy sweater, but Remus and Sirius were still missing. Good.

“What’s that like?”

Brows furrowing, you followed his gaze.

“It’s…interesting. She’s really nice, but she—”

“Flirts with all the customers?” James supplied, peeking at you out of the corner of his eye.

You stared at him for a tick. “Yeah. You must know her?”

“Childhood friends,” James decided, nodding. When he turned back to you, you were raking your eyes over his dressy outfit, lip caught between your teeth. Your eyes found his, and you looked away. James thought he saw a flush to your cheeks.

The wind whipped around the corner then, and James began shouldering his thick jacket off, finally doing what he’d wanted to do before.

“You must be crazy,” he said, coming closer. “It’s freezing out here.”

You braved a look at him, and alarm sunk into your features.

“No, James, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

“Don’t be polite, lovely, you’re shivering. Here.”

James slowly held his coat over your shoulders, leaning back to watch you carefully. He saw the moment you accepted his offer, sinking back into the warmth the garment still held.

“Thank you,” you breathed as James pulled away. He shoved his cold hands into his pockets, now looking to conserve heat.

“‘Course.”

Though his hands weren’t on you anymore, James stayed just as close as he was moments ago. He could smell the champagne in your glass. He glanced around to the garden, to your feet on the step, just below his.

“D’you want to head inside?” he asked. “It’s almost midnight, I think.”

Your lips turned up, and James hoped to God he’d get to kiss them.

“That sounds lovely.”

+

James flipped his phone open, the small screen giving off just enough light in his dark room to make him squint. He was wondering what you’d put for your contact—a smiley face, maybe, or a heart? He hoped you put a heart. It took his brain far too long to catch up to reality.

With a shock of gut-twisting dread, James realized he’d been so wound up over kissing you that he forgot to ask for your phone number. Your phone number.

He groaned, glancing at his bed longingly, but he knew he wouldn’t fall into it very soon. He’d go back a hundred times before he slept that night if it got him one date with you.

thank you for reading! xx | masterlist

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[sleepyspudbrainrot]

Indulge Me

Roman Reigns x Lale (OC) | 18+, NSFW, smut, fluff | 1908 words

This is absolutely part of Carry You Home, but not Pt. 3 if that makes sense? It's a scene that will absolutely happen in the fic, but down the road... but I was in the mood to write it tonight so here we are?

You can blame one of my friends for picking the prompt for me ~ Enjoy this attempt at smut! I'm a bit rusty...

“How is it you always know what I need, huh?”

A hand wrapped around Lale’s throat, eyes fluttering as Joe took steps towards her.  Each step brought them closer to one another, and then far once more, until she was met by the wall at her back.  A soft gasp escapes her, his grasp around her throat tightening.  His face lowers to meet hers, lips brushing gently across hers.  Once, twice, and by the third time, his lips are pressed to hers in an attempt to claim them. ”Joe…” A soft murmur, her head meeting the door behind her as she struggles to focus.  ”The door… neighbors…” A large hand encompasses hers, guiding it over to the lock behind her and allowing her to lock it before pressing closer once more.  ”They’ll have to wait…”  The only neighbors she could think of would be the twins.  And somehow, she knew, they’d know exactly what was going on tonight.  They’d seen the way she’d looked after Joe after the nights events.  The way she’d bit her lip as he’d brushed closer to her in the gorilla.  But for it all to lead to this?

His lips left hers, brushing along her jawline, down to her neck.  Teeth grazing at the sensitive skin just underneath her jawline.  Another soft gasp escapes her, hands tightening in the loose fabric of the shirt he’d thrown on in the locker room.  It still smelled like sweat and the ring, scents that were wrapped up in the scent of him. He buried his face in her neck and collarbone, leaning against her, his body a welcome pressure even as she found herself pinned to the wall.  “Fuck Lale…”  They’d done so little and he seemed to be struggling to control himself.  Even now, she could feel the way his length pressed into her hip bone, with a little adjusting… 

She shifted as much as she could given the presence of his body, allowing his hips to meet hers.  Two pieces of a puzzle, a piece of him that was made for her, at least she could hope that.  She groaned softly and reached up to tangle her hands in his hair.  Her nails met scalp and a soft his escaped him as his teeth sunk into the spot between her neck and collarbone.  “Joe…” His name fell from her lips in reverence, her grip in his hair tightening as his lips trailed lower.  To the collar of her shirt, his hand sliding up from the bottom.  Rough callouses against smooth skin, the fabric of her shirt lifting as he explored further and further upward.  

“This night is supposed to be about you ya know…”

Her hand comes to rest on his wrist, stopping his journey upwards.  He pulls away from her collarbone, an eyebrow raised. “And if I wanted to indulge myself in you ma?”  Indulge himself in her… One hand remained on his wrist, the other reaching up to cup his cheekbone.  A tender gesture that was a stark contrast to the heat that radiated between them.  

“Let me indulge you instead?”

She’d stepped away from the wall now.  Using Joe’s momentary confusion to push him towards the center of the room.  It was easy to sink to her knees in front of him.  Her hands trailing down his chest and down the length that she could feel straining against his pants.  “May I?” Joe merely nodded, swallowing visibly as she tucked her fingers into his waistband.  Inch by inch until the gym shorts were pooled around his ankles.  His cock was standing at attention, even longer than she’d anticipated.  Her hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking slowly, watching his face shift through her eyelashes.  His eyes closed, his lips pursed, his hands at his sides. 

“Lale…”

She paused in her stroking, tilting her head. “Yes Joe?” Her words came out in a low sultry murmur. 

“You look so damn beautiful on your knees for me mama..”

The reverence returned to her ten fold, sending her heart stuttering and even more heat pooling at her core.  She couldn’t speak, she had to focus on the cock in front of her.  No matter how beautiful he thought of her, she knew that this was her time, her chance to take care of his needs.  She leaned forward with a soft smile, her tongue darting out to lap at the precum that had beaded at the tip.  A hiss escaped the man above her, his hands reaching out to cup her head.  “Easy now…”  A teasing laugh before she took the tip into her mouth.  Her tongue swirled around, a teasing gesture that was paired with a few more languid strokes along his shaft.  She had to ease into this, to make sure that she wasn’t going to take on too much.  She wasn’t sure if she could take all of him, but she was going to try.

Inch by inch she drew more of him into her mouth, cheeks hollowing out as her tongue wrapped around more and more of his shaft.  A low groan vibrated through Joe, his hands tangling in Lale’s hair that hung wildly around her face. She hummed softly, letting the vibrations carry as she began to bob her head up and down.  Slowly at first, pairing it with similarly paced strokes.  His hips twitched and it was very clear that Joe was holding himself back … for her.

That only served to encourage her to go faster.  Her cheeks hollowed out, her lips a vice grip around him as her head bobbed up and down.  Closer and closer to the edge, she wanted him to lose control.  To allow himself to lose himself in her, and to indulge her in the care she was willing to give. And give in he did. His hands clasped her head, hips bucking up to meet her on each stroke.  He hit the back of her throat over and over again.  Her eyes began to water, her groans adding more vibrations that only served to encourage his wildness further.

“Lale.. I’m close…”

She met his gaze through her eyelashes. 

“Are you sure?”

If she’d been in a place to do so, she would’ve nodded.  He seemed to understand the yes, his movement quickening now.  Each thrust more erratic than the last, his fingers tangled in her hair, until her face was pressed to his skin, his cock throbbing as he found release.  She could feel the thick liquid pumping into her throat, the warmth in her core only encouraged by the pleasure she’d been able to bring the man above her.  Once he’d finished, he pulled her head away from himself, a hand curling around her chin.  He drew her up to his level, his thumb wiping away at the drool that had coated her chin.  

“How on earth do you look even more beautiful now?”  

Joe’s thumb rubbed circles against her cheek.  “Now let me indulge myself… please?”

Lale fell back against the bed, Joe standing over her with a look on his face that she could only describe as feral.  He’d discarded of his shorts, leaving his cock out and still erect despite her draining him only moments before.  It was his turn to get on his knees for her, kneeling at the foot of the bed.  His hands grabbed at her hips, drawing her closer to the edge and pushing her legs apart.  “We’ve really got to do something about these…”  Her panties exposed, her skirt doing little to hide the wet spot that had been slowly growing since they’d gotten back to the hotel. His finger trailed downward, hooking around the edge of the fabric and pushing it to the side.  

“So wet for me ma…” His nose brushed against her lips, before his tongue flicked at her clit.  The sensation was sudden, pulling a moan from deep within her.  Her back arching, legs twitching with the urge to close around Joe’s head.  “Easy now ma…”  Another languid drag of his tongue, this time focusing less on just her clit, and more on consuming her.  Darting inside of her, then out, swirling patterns that had her moaning over and over again.  His fingers slid inside her at some point, one at a time til he’d gotten three inside of her, his tongue drawing her closer and closer to the edge with each deft stroke.  

“Joe god… fuck that feels…”

She cried out as he sucked on her clit, the change in sensation almost sending her tumbling into an orgasm.  But then he pulled away, grinning up at her, her slick coating the strands of his beard.  “You think I was going to let you go that easily? I want to feel you come apart around me mama.”  He stood now, padding away from the edge of the bed to grab a condom from his suitcase.  He rolled it over his cock as he returned to the bed.  It was easy for him to lean over and pull her close, her legs against his chest as his cock teased at her entrance.

“You ready?”

Lale could only nod, her teeth worrying her lower lip as he pushed into her entrance.  Even with the preparation, the size was enough to sting as he stretched her out.  Inch by inch, easing into the discomfort, she couldn’t help but watch him as he did so.  Her discomfort quickly shifted to pleasure, to admiration and reverence, as she observed the way he looked at her.  It was as if she was something precious, something that he wanted to take care of, whether it be physically or…

No she couldn’t think of that now.

Especially as Joe was now sheathed within her.  His hips pressed to hers.  Without warning he snapped back, the thrusts starting slow, but increasing in intensity with each one.  Each thrust brought her back to that edge she’d nearly hit with his tongue earlier.  She groaned, eyes rolling back into her head as he leaned over her, one hand holding himself up on the bed, the other moving to thread his fingers with hers.  

“Come for me?”

A question that she was all too eager to answer.  She tightened around him with a cry, her back arching and her legs shaking with each continued thrust.  At some point, the pulsing from within her became to much for him as well, and for the second time that night he came apart as well.  His chest rose and fell as he slid out of her, the condom tossed in the vague direction of the trash can across the room, before he joined her on the bed. 

“We should probably get you cleaned up…” Joe murmured softly, brushing her hair away from her face.  Lale laughed softly, reaching out to cup his cheek with one hand.  “Only if you come clean me up?” Her laughter carried through her words, the teasing clear as she remained curled on her side.  “That’s if I can move… I’m comfortable.”  A yawn escapes her, leaving Joe to laugh with a shake of his head.  “It can wait… for now, come here.”  He pulled her close, moving to lay on his back and allow her to settle against his chest.  He pulled a blanket over the pair, stroking Lale’s hair until she fell asleep.  Once she was settled and asleep, it wasn’t long before he too had fallen asleep.

[kiyomitakada]

This is not in Halle’s contract. Yes, she’s in the SPK to avenge her brother — not to make a quick buck — and yes, she’s more of an independent asset anyway, but nevertheless she is quite sure this is not in her contract.

“Well, you think I’m stupid,” Amane muses, poking at the glass of wine in front of her. “So you’d put the poison in my glass.”

“I would never think so lowly of you,” Takada says innocently, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. “You are a dear friend, Amane-san.”

“Riiight, and I’m not stupid, so I’d go for your glass instead. But,” and Amane leans forward to jab a finger in Takada’s face, “you told me that just so I would go for your glass, so you actually put the poison in your glass.”

“I really don’t know where this misconception came from,” Takada says calmly. “I never said I poisoned either of our glasses.”

“You said you hoped I’d enjoy it!”

“An entirely benign thing to say—”

“No no no,” Amane says. “You said it like—” She lowers her voice to a purr. “‘I hope you… enjoy it, Amane-san.’”

Takada is now clearly fighting down a smile. “You’re imagining things.”

“‘Because it would be such a shame if this was your last meal, since the Kira activity has been ramping up so much lately’—”

“Is that really what I sound like to you?”

“Yes. And, and then: ‘it’s really rather fitting we have red wine, just as Judas did before he kissed the Messiah’—”

“I absolutely did not say that,” Takada says, amusement dancing in her eyes. Halle almost does a double take; she looks so different from the Kiyomi Takada who exits hotel rooms with the beginnings of sadness in the creases of her smile. “Where did you even get that from?”

“The goth look is researched, you know,” Amane huffs. “I don’t just slap crosses on and call it a day, the aesthetic has to make sense!”

“Unlike you,” Takada murmurs.

“Hey!” Amane leans even further forward, almost knocking her wine glass over, and pokes Takada in the shoulder. “I heard that.”

“I know,” Takada says, and slaps her hand over Amane’s, trapping it on her shoulder. Amane freezes. Halle expects her to pull back, but — no, they’re both just staring at each other now, Amane’s eyes wide and Takada’s narrowed. A stalemate.

Halle gives it ten seconds before she clears her throat.

“Ah—!” Takada lets go, leaning back. Amane collapses back into her seat, eyes still rounded. “Apologies, Lidner-san, I…”

“Hey,” Amane interjects, “I almost deduced your whole thing there! You distracted me. Which means the poison has to be in your glass!”

Halle internally revises her report to Near. This is not a catfight. This is something much weirder than that.

“Yes, congratulations,” Takada says dryly. “You’ve uncovered my evil plot.”

Amane reaches for her own glass, then pauses again. “But then… why are you letting me think that?”

A smirk is growing on Takada’s face. “Why indeed?”

“Alright, Kiyomi,” Amane declares, slamming both hands onto the table. “This battle of wits begins! Today!”

Honestly. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Halle had prepared the wine herself and therefore knew perfectly well that it was nontoxic, she’d probably be hoping both glasses were poisoned by now.

On the plus side, at least she’ll get to surprise Near with the knowledge that the suspected second Kira and Kira’s spokeswoman have started flirting. This is probably good for the strategy. Somehow.

“I accept your challenge,” Takada says coolly, but it’s all too easy to see the sparkle in her eyes.

Please for the love of god let this be good for the strategy.

[ @deathnotetober day 20: poison (with apologies to the princess bride) ]

[charcoalgrayswriting]

Drop

Read on AO3 HERE!

Words: 2968

Summary: After a honeypot mission with a dom, she is suffering from subdrop. After noticing this, Adler helps her out. (OFC is not described, and can be interpreted as Bell)

“Fuck,” she grumbled as she stumbled against the ugly patterned wallpaper as she tripped over her own two feet. Sighing she forced her tired aching back to straighten, despite the dizziness and black spots it caused. 

Adler had called her to his room to discuss something. However, she had already been in bed and half asleep, so he would have to just deal with her lack of professional attire. She had simply thrown a hotel-provided robe over her pajamas, not even bothering with a bra. 

Shoulders rolling back, she knocked on the wooden hotel door. The motion caused some nausea, and the knocking made her head pound, but nonetheless she pushed through. 

It was yanked open, revealing Adler standing in the doorway with a lit cigarette perched between his teeth. He almost looked… soft, or maybe domestic with his work polo unbuttoned and untucked, hair mussed, and signature shades swapped out for a pair of normal glasses. It made a part of her want to submit and sink to her knees, before she shoved her urges down and forced the fantastical thought away.

 “Good, you’re here,” he muttered, and she tried not to let it show how his unintentional praise affected her. It was like pouring warm honey into the cold empty pit inside her stomach she’d had since the last op. She didn’t think she was very successful, judging by his subvocal hum and the aborted upward twitch of his lips. 

Ushering her into the room, he sat her down at the small table, standing just behind her. Before she could turn her head around and ask just what he thought was doing, two large warm hands landed on her tired shoulders, forcing her to keep still with a simple squeeze before they traveled under her nightshirt. A non-verbal order that she hastened to obey with a shudder. 

Adler always exuded a certain amount of dominance that was nearly overwhelming on a good day. Whether or not he intended it to be was unclear, but with her state the way it was after her last mission, well, it was nearly unbearable. It made her lean back into the warmth of his body, ever so slightly tilting her neck to expose it to him. Submitting to him in a way she never allowed herself to before. 

The pleased noise he made nearly made her cry with relief. When he began to work at the tense muscles in her shoulders a low whine broke from her lips before she could even attempt to stop it. She didn’t know it was possible to become more tense, but somehow, she did despite all his hard work. 

The urge to run warred with her instinct to be good, to stay put like he had commanded. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to, and it nearly paralyzed her. 

“Well isn’t that interesting.” Adler all but purred, and she could practically feel the smile on his face, even if she couldn’t see it. 

Nausea and shame curled in her gut as she tried to turn around and face him, swaying as she did so. “Adler I can expl-” 

Clamping his hands down on her shoulders, Adler stilled her. “Oh?” Leisurely, he continued to work at the knots in her shoulders, and the easing of her muscles made her slump forwards so that her nose almost touched the hotel table. 

“Mhm,” eyelids drooping, she tried to force herself up, fight the impending subspace, but failed. A small huff of laughter could be heard behind her, though she could barely muster up enough strength to feel indignant on her own behalf. 

“You’ve been doing so well,” The praise hit her like a punch to the gut, and she let out another whine, this one closer to a wheeze. 

“Oh you liked that, didn’t you?” He paused as he dug his calloused fingers into a particularly tough knot, letting out a small grunt, before continuing. “You know, I’ve been watching you.” 

Though her mind recoiled at the statement, she found that her body was unwilling to move. Maybe she could trick herself into thinking it was just her biology, urging her to let him put her under. 

But she knew the truth. No other dom she had met had the effect on her that he did. Though she did kneel for them, she’d never felt the urge, simply doing it to take care of her biological needs. 

Ever since the last op, she had been dropping, hard. She felt dizzy, nauseous, pained, empty, and cold all at once. And now, Adler was helping her through it, her prior positive experiences with him seemed to be enough for her subconscious to want to obey him. He had proven himself to be a capable dom. Good at taking care of his people, willing to provide, and dole out fair punishment. And it didn’t hurt that he wasn’t all that bad to look at, either. 

“At first I thought your file was wrong.” Fingers holding her head in place by the jaw, Adler’s thumbs pressed into the base of her skull, where her head met her spine, kneading it slowly. The migraine that had been plaguing her, magically, mercifully, reduced. Breath stuttering, she felt such relief she could cry. She held back, for that would only make the pain worse, though her eyes still watered. 

“I mean, you acted so much like the rest of us, so much like a dom that I just couldn’t see you as a sub.” Adler tilted her head back, pulling her up and into his chest, leaning her into him. His body was warm, the scent of cologne and cigarettes wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. Inch by traitorous inch, her body began to relax into him. 

A firm hand wrapped gently around her throat. She should be panicking, these hands were responsible for the deaths of hundreds, maybe thousands. Not only that, she knew that he would not hesitate to end her with them if he thought she was a threat. Instead, she just felt safe with his calluses scraping along the delicate skin of her neck. 

“But then I began to notice things. Little things that most people overlook” His thumb began to rub up and down her pulse, his other hand twirling his lit cigarette around in her peripheral vision. 

“You lean into anyone who touches you,” much like she was just now. Hastily, she tried to pull away from Adler, only to have him stop her, pressing back her against his chest with his firm but gentle grip on her neck, squeezing it lightly in warning. 

“Careful now,” and she took the reprimand for what it was, a pained whine sneaking through her lips before she could stop it as the gaping pit in her stomach deepened. 

“Your eyes light up beautifully at praise,” her cheeks heated at Adler’s murmured proclamation, trying to shrink in on herself before remembering his reprimand. He didn’t verbally acknowledge this, but he did huff another laugh. She didn’t want to, but she treasured the rare sound. 

He sighed, continuing on when she settled, his thumb rhythmically stroking across her carotid artery. “You de-escalate well, don’t immediately start a fight unless there’s no other option.”

“You show a high degree of emotional intelligence, not normally seen in doms.” She tilted her head up to stare at him through heavy lidded eyes, halfway to subspace with no more than light praise and a gentle touch. It should have made her feel pathetic, had her brain not already shut off all higher thinking. Once all this was over, she would feel embarrassed for how little it took for Adler to get her to relax. 

Adler continued on, the hand holding his cigarette coming to rest on her shoulder, the lit end pointed away from her face. “You know exactly how far to push, and how to push to get the intel you need.” 

She was barely listening to him anymore, letting his honeyed words wash over her mind, slowly and carefully lowering her into subspace.

For an undetermined amount of time there was silence, “And I think you dropped after this last op.” 

Well she was certainly listening now, a cold dread set into her stomach at the reminder of her last op. She jerked away from him, a panicked noise dying in her throat as Adler held her close to him. The hand around her neck tightened, cutting off her air for a few seconds before he released her. She took the reprimand for what it was, tilting her neck to him in deference as she shook. 

He sighed above her. “Truthfully, I never considered that your lack of aftercare would be a problem. Had I remembered, I wouldn’t have pulled you out so quick.” the hand on her shoulder rubbed up and down her arm, like he was trying to soothe a skittish horse.

For some reason, it was working, and the icy-cold wrongness of subdrop began to thaw. 

Under his breath, Adler muttered, “Hudson really reamed me out for that one.” and she was unable to hide her rasping laugh. So that had been what all the yelling was about yesterday. Everyone had heard it, but no one could say for certain what had made Hudson so furious he started screaming. Especially at Adler. 

“You’ve been so good.” It was like he injected serotonin right into her brain, she was so close to subspace, teetering on the edge of floating off the cliff into a peaceful abyss. 

Now beyond words, she settled for a small hum. 

“Let's get you more comfortable,” before she could completely register what he was saying, Adler was tugging her up and out of her seat, leading her over to the leather cuck chair that all hotels, regardless of where they were in the world, had. On the floor was one of the pillows from the bed, and without thinking, she knelt on it, looking back up at Adler for direction. 

He graced her with another one of his rare smiles before sitting down in front of her, and the euphoria of pleasing her dominant nearly knocked her over. 

“Good girl,” the praise went right to her head, and she whined again, swaying as her arms fluttered in front of her, unsure of what to do. 

But she didn’t need to worry, Adler understood, and he placed a hand in her hair, gently tugging her head into his lap. His actions unbalanced her, and she wrapped her arms around his legs as she fell into them. 

“Just like that.” The hand stayed in her hair, petting her, while he continued to smoke leaning back into his chair, watching her with heavily lidded eyes. 

It was too much and not enough, and she could tell that she was so close to subspace, and she didn’t want to disappoint Adler, but she just couldn’t– 

As her thoughts began to spiral, Adler tugged her hair. Not enough to hurt her, just enough to get her to look back up at him. 

“What do you need?” she shuddered, mind blanking as she scrambled for something to tell him. 

“I don’t know sir,” she whispered, voice cracking, frustrated tears welling up in her eyes. If he was surprised by the title, he didn’t show it. Instead he examined her closely. 

“Alright,” his hand slowly stroked through her hair again, and she leaned into the touch like a cat. 

“I need you to relax for me, can you do that?” and she nodded against his legs, realizing that she hadn’t truly relaxed yet. She may have submitted, but she was still waiting to be jerked back out of her hazy state. 

Her muscles take a few seconds to respond as she tries to relax them, slowly going boneless. It makes all the difference, and when Adler resumes petting her hair with some more praise, she’s gone. 

Lips parting, her head lolled to the side as she closed her eyes, listening to Adler’s words. But she did not truly hear them, just allowing herself to be tugged deeper and deeper into the ocean of subspace. The scent of whatever brand of cologne and cigarettes Adler used became a warm blanket around her as she just breathed. 

The pain that had been plaguing her slowly receded, and tears pricked at the corners of her closed eyes. 

For an undetermined length of time, they just sat like this, his hand in her hair, her head in his lap, their breath and hearts synced with each other. She could stay like this forever. 

Unfortunately, her body had other plans, and her legs began to cramp. Adler noticed her shifting her weight to try and get comfortable again. 

“Look at me,” and she could feel the command in his voice, impossible for her to disobey with all of her defenses down. 

Staring up at him with wide, wet eyes, she waited for his next command. 

Adler merely hummed, studying her like she was something precious, carefully running his fingers across her cheek. He handled her like she was important, and perhaps that was the best thing of all. 

“You look so beautiful down there,” his thumb brushed along her cheekbone, and again, she leaned into his touch, feeling the way her cheeks heated as she did so. 

“Ready to come up yet?” considering for a second, she shook her head, squinting as she shifted uncomfortably again. 

“Alright then, gonna move this somewhere more comfortable for you then.” 

Before she could even make a sound, Adler was repositioning her. Slowly, he raised her head from his lap, making sure she could sit up on her own. 

He tugged her up and led her to the bed, supporting most of her weight as she struggled to walk. 

She must have made some sort of panicked noise, because Adler stopped, tilting his head down at her. Whatever he saw on her face made him displeased, and he continued to tug her reluctant body towards the bed. Once she was seated on the left side, he took her face in both of his hands, thumbs brushing over her cheeks. The action caused tears to leak out of her eyes, startling her. 

Unable to do anything but stare up at him from where he towered over her, she waited for his next direction, resigned, despite the disgust curdling in her stomach. 

“What’s wrong?” His hands laced into her hair, holding her in place. 

It takes her a few seconds to process his words, simply staring up at him before her mouth moves without her conscious input. “I’m sorry sir,” her voice cracking on the last word. She looked away from his burning eyes, unable to look at him as she whispered, “Don’t want sex.” unable to hide the repulsed shudder that worked its way through her body. 

“Don’t worry,” he slips his hands out of her hair, though he keeps one on her arm at all times as he pulls the covers back, and she follows him with her foggy eyes. “I won’t touch you like that,” and the last of the remaining tension recedes from her body. 

Adler sat next to her, shifting to the middle of the bed, and gestured for her to follow. Once she shuffled close enough, both of his arms gently maneuvered her so that she was chest to chest with him, laying the entirety of her body on top of him. A large hand pressed her face into the crook of his neck, sliding down and under her hair to gently scruff her neck. 

His other hand pulled the covers up and over them enveloping her in the bed’s comfortable weight and warmth. 

 Uncaring as she heard the sound of his lighter spark, and the fresh scent of a new cigarette filled the room. She allowed herself to float back into subspace, her aching arms tucked close to Adler, their legs intertwined. 

Slowly, the world around her sharpened at the edges. The birds chirped in the background, and there was a vague honking in the distance. Adler’s cigarette had long since burned out, though its smell still lingered. Blinking sleepily, she shifted, attempting to pull away from him. 

The hand on the back of her neck tightened, “What’re you doing?” he murmured, and she felt his lips on the back of her head. Miraculously, it no longer hurt, though her cheeks did heat at his actions. 

“Mmm, gotta– gotta go sleep.” she mumbled, not quite all there yet, though her senses had sharpened, her mind was still fuzzy. The hand he held his cigarette in tightened across her back, fingers digging into her waist. Not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to make itself known. As if she could have forgotten it. 

“Stay.” it wasn’t a request, more of a demand, but she knew that if she truly wanted to leave, he would let her. Perhaps that was why she didn’t feel bothered by the idea of staying, of letting him keep her. Because she knew, if she stayed, it would be permanent. Russell Adler was not a man who liked to share. 

Despite the heavy hand across her neck, she lifted her head to stare imploringly at Adler. “S’okay?”

Scoffing, Adler rolled his eyes, decisively stating, “If I wanted you gone, you would be gone.” staring into his eyes for another second, she nodded, marveling at the lack of nausea it brought her. 

“Kay.” she settled back into him with a sigh. The hand on her neck moved to the back of her head, running through her hair. The gentle rhythm soothing her to sleep.

And if she joined for sleep every night they were both available? 

Well. That was no one else’s business but theirs. 

Banner by @cafekitsune

[clumsiestgiantess]

Lots of people wanted a continuation to the short I made for @entomolog-t’s prompt, so here you are! I already had ideas for a second part the moment I finished the first one!

(First part here)

I was so tired the night of my disappearing act that I barely made it to the scraps of insulated fabric I call my bed.  Just as my head hit the comfortable fluff, a thud echoed above my head and I dashed to the doorway in seconds, heart racing.  More thuds rumbled over the floorboards as I stood frozen looking fearfully upwards — believing Alice somehow knows where I am, and is trying to pry up the wooden planks to get to me.  Faintly, I can hear her muffled voice.  “Please, I know you’re scared, but hiding isn’t going to do either of us any good!  Just come out; I swear I’m not dangerous!”  

Oh.  She’s probably crawling around on the floor trying to find me.  Well, unless she can crawl beneath it, she’ll have a tough time finding anything but dust!  I sneered at the thought, trying to reassure myself enough to get back in bed.  I’m safe now.  She’s not going to find me here.  However, no matter how many fabric scraps I press over my ears, I can’t drown out enough noise for me to sleep.  Even when I lay on the cold floor with everything over my head until I’m nearly suffocating, I can still feel the vibrations of Alice moving around.  Just go to sleep already!  Thud around all you like in the morning when I leave for the day!  Regardless of my mental harassment of her, the human didn’t give up until it was early morning.

Finally, I have peace and quiet, and I fall asleep in record time.  Come morning, the house is still silent as ever.  I wake up with a gnawing ache in my chest.  Briefly, I think it’s guilt over what I’d done the day before — turns out it was just hunger.  I’d run away before getting to eat yesterday.  Thankfully, I have some provisions that I’ve stored away for emergencies.  I grab a few crackers and glance at the little watch piece that’s fastened to the wall.  Oh, what?!  I slept in!  I usually never sleep in!  My natural alarm wakes me up at almost the exact time every day.  Then again, I’m usually asleep much earlier than last night, too.  

No wonder the floor is so quiet; Alice is probably out of the house by now, or in her room working on human things.  Quickly finishing breakfast, I slip on my bag and head out to the large kitchen.  Now that my emergency stash of food is diminished, I’m a bit anxious to get it stocked again.  I walk the same trek I’d sleepily walked the night before, but stop at the end of the hall where the electrical cover sits.  Maybe I’ll.. go a different way.  

Taking the long way through the walls, I come out inside a cabinet with windowed doors.  Reaching out to push one open, I glance out of it and flinch.  With cautious steps, I slide backward behind some cups.  Alice is in the room.  None of her usual music is playing, she isn’t watching videos on her phone, she isn’t talking to herself or a friend on the phone, either.  She’s just sitting there with what appears to be her breakfast, staring numbly at a wall.  Huh.  Whatever ‘exams’ are, they really seem to be stressing her out.  Usually she’s done with breakfast by now.  

Her strange behavior can’t be because of me.  She had spent less than twelve hours with me, and most of that time she spent ignoring me.  Logically, she wouldn’t be that upset over someone she barely knew, right?  She’d given up her search hours ago when she finally stopped keeping me up all night.

A while later, she leaves.  It’s strange, though.  Alice steps lightly across the room, glancing around the floor before each step.  Maybe she lost something important?  That tends to make humans fairly stressed.  Hell, it makes me stressed.  If a human’s missing something, it might mean I made a bad judgment call on what I could take without being noticed.

My nerves settle when the sound of her footsteps fade off.  Back to business.  My day runs relatively smoothly from there.  Of course, I had to come across a knot or two in my climbing rope mid-scale, which I wasn’t too happy about.  After collecting up some food, I spent a long while getting the knots to untie.  It’s always best to get them out before you make a climb, that way your weight won’t tug them tighter.  It was too late for that lesson to come in handy, though.  

My next chore on the list is borrowing some more thread to stitch winter linings back into my clothes.  The winter weather caught me by surprise.  It had come earlier than I thought, and I’d nearly died because of it.  Briefly, blurry visions of the inside of that knitted hat fade in and out of my consciousness.  I nearly froze to death that night.  If the thing hadn’t been left there accidentally, I wouldn’t have made it long enough to even try to get help.  Blinking away the memories, I realized I was shivering and rubbed my hands over my arms for a bit more warmth, reminding myself that I’m safe here.  The apartment never gets that cold.  Ever.

At my home under the floors that afternoon, I gather up the materials I already collected.  I have the fluffy inner lining that I’d taken from an old coat Alice left in a storage bin — I’ve been using it as bedding — my knife to cut everything to size, and a smaller needle I’d whittled out of a long chunk of wood.  Now all I need is the thread.

Back in my little passages, I head in the opposite direction through the floor.  I slow as I make my way up into the walls towards Alice’s room.  Unfortunately, that’s where the sewing kit is, directly under her bed.  Alice will be there for sure.  Whatever she’s working on this time must be important.  I haven’t heard her leave her room all day since I saw her walk in this morning.  She hasn’t even gotten lunch.  Maybe she has a snack on her desk!  Perhaps when she’s asleep or out of the house I’ll steal some of it.

Sliding out of a crack in the baseboards behind a large bookshelf, I creep up to the very edge of it and scan the room.  Sure enough, Alice is there doing schoolwork, watching a video on something called ‘trigonometry’ that I can barely pronounce — I don’t dare try to imagine what it actually is.  At least she’s not being unnervingly still anymore.  

I dart from my place beneath the bookshelf to beneath her bed.  The sewing kit sits further towards the wall, right beside her desk.  Alice seems distracted enough, scribbling down something while mumbling about things I don’t understand.  She does that often enough that it isn’t as concerning as this morning.  Maybe she’s finally returning to normal.  That’s a relief.  A human on a schedule is a good human to live with.  Memorize it, use it to your advantage, and you’ll practically own the place — at least while they’re not around.

Making my way to the box, I wait for the video to start playing again before popping open the lid — timing it so she doesn’t pick up the noise amidst the other sounds she’s concentrating on.  Sliding a few things around, I manage a clear path to the spool I want.  Rummaging through various different items larger than yourself is no easy task, but I make it look practically effortless.  A shrunken human would never be able to do half the things I do on a daily basis, I think with a smirk.  I yank out the spool of thread and reach for my knife.

“No!  What?  How?!  I used the same formula and everything!”  I flinch as Alice yells, her angry voice edged with dismay.  Cautiously, I tiptoe over to the side of her bedframe and glance up at her.  She’s frantically writing something down, biting at her bottom lip with furrowed brows.  Whatever it is, she isn’t too happy about it.  I’m just about to continue my work when she glances over at the computer screen again.  “What the heck?!”  Furiously, she crumples her paper into a crushed ball, looking ready to throw it across the room in a fit of rage.  I brace myself instinctively, thankful I hadn’t stuck around to anger her.

Suddenly, a sob wrenches out of Alice’s throat, catching me entirely by surprise.  She curls her arms around her head as it falls to the surface of the desk.  The paper ball drops dully to the floor.  Her whole body shakes as she cries onto her desk, and my relief drops into a muted kind of confusion.  “I’m gonna fail,” she whimpers, “I can’t do this.  Why is everything going so wrong?  I just wanted to help him; why’d he run away?  I feel sick.  What if he’s hurt somewhere and can’t call for help?  What if he’s too scared to call for help?”

She.. really is worried about me.  So worried that she’s acting like a complete mess — and not the silly endearing mess I’m fond of her for.  If my disappearance amplifies her worries over these exams…  Well, she didn’t tell me what would happen if she failed them, just that she couldn’t.  I abandon the thread I’m after and rush for the crack in the wall behind the bookshelf.  A plan’s forming in my mind.  It might backfire horribly, but I’m hoping it’ll work.  Alice is much too distracted for me to even bother checking if the coast is clear.  Her light sobs still echo against the surface of her desk.

I slip between the two halves of the wall and take a large calming breath.  Then I start shouting.  “Alice!  It’s ok, I-”  The human sits up so abruptly I stop talking fearfully.  I don’t know how beings as big as her can move so quickly.  She scans the floor of the entire room in only a few seconds.  Of course, I’m smart enough not to be in plain sight.  “Hello?”  Alice’s voice is slightly muffled like her nose is stuffy.  I swallow a lump that formed in my throat.  “It’s.. It’s ok.  It’s me, the ‘little guy’.”  Alice hastily rubs away her tears and stands up.  “You’re… alright?” she asks me, glancing around.  “Yeah.”

“Oh thank god!” Alice gasps, relieved.  “You made me so worried for you!  Are you hungry still?  I- I know you haven’t eaten in a while since you.. ran off when I tried to get something for you.”

The room falls into an awkward silence.  I can’t see much of her from beneath the bookshelf, but I watch Alice nervously shuffle from foot to foot — waiting for my response.  She can’t stay silent for very long, though.  “Look, I’m sorry I scared you off…  I don’t know what happened, but I’m willing to work with you to try and get your memories and your old life back.  I can’t imagine how terrifying it is to suddenly be so small, not even knowing how you got that way-”

“Stop.”  Alice quieted at the single word.  “That’s.. a lie.  I remember everything just fine.”  I want to say that I’m not terrified of being small either, but I can’t bring myself to say it.  Even if I’ve lived my whole life this way, I still have my moments.  Yesterday and that whole escapade with the freezing car was one of the worst of them.  “So.. you just didn’t want to tell me how you shrank?”  I sigh, “No.. Alice, I- I never shrank.  I’ve always been this way.”  She starts and stops talking a few different times — syllables barely leaving her mouth.  “I’m not human, Alice.”

The silence that follows is worse than the last.  It feels almost suffocating.  A gentle thud reverberates over the floorboards and I peer out.  Alice is kneeling on the floor, leaning down to peer under the bookshelf.  Quickly, I duck back behind the wall.  “Is that why you left?”  Her voice softens, tears entirely gone.  “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.”  “You promised the tiny human me that you wouldn’t hurt me.”  I glance out of my hiding spot just as Alice’s gaze wanders, thinking through something.  

“You thought I would go back on my word if I knew you were lying to me?  Or you just.. thought that I wouldn’t care because you’re not human?” she asks me, sounding hurt.  I feel almost chastised.  Her gaze flickers to me.  “I promised you that I wouldn’t hurt you.  You.  No matter who or what you were.  I’m a bit upset you wanted to lie to me about… everything.  But I can’t be mad at you for being scared of me.  I won’t ask you to talk to me anymore if you don’t want to, but just know, I’m glad you’re alright.”

Tears of relief well in my eyes and my throat tightens.  Tentatively, I slide out from within the crack in the wall.  “You- You really mean that?  You don’t care that I’m not one of you?”  A small smile spreads over Alice’s lips.  Of course not, don’t be silly!  You’re safe here, I promise.  I understand if you want to go home, though.  You probably have others of your kind to get back to, and I’ve accidentally trapped you in my house.”  I glance away sheepishly, “Well, about that…  I kind of.. live here.”  “What?!”

I end up telling her every part of the truth — how I really got into her car, where I’d gone to when I ran off — everything.  “I actually did remember my name.  It’s just.. not really a human-sounding one, so I couldn’t exactly give you it.  My name’s Fennel, but I mostly just go by Fen.”  “Fen?” she asks a bit confusedly.  I nod.  “Nice to finally really meet you!” Alice laughs, “How long have you been living here.. with me?”  I think back.  “I moved in after you were already here, but you were still unpacking things, so I don’t think it was very far off from when you moved in, too.”  Alice makes a surprised noise.  “Where were you living before?”  “Eh, another apartment in this building.  The new people were too loud, so I moved out.”  She giggled, “I wish I could just pack up and slip into a new home whenever I have problems with the neighbors.”  I sigh, “It’s harder than it seems; I have to rebuild a livable space for myself every time.”  Alice nods thoughtfully, sitting back up.  Some of her bones crack as she does, and I flinch.

“Hey, if you don’t mind, can you maybe come out from beneath there?  It hurts my back to try to bend all the way to the floor to look at you.”  She won’t hurt you, she won’t hurt you, she won’t hurt you.  “Alright.”  With slow deliberate steps I make my way out from beneath the bookshelf.  Alice sits a foot away from me.  I have to crane my neck back vertically to see her face, peering almost all the way downward at me.  She offers me the palm of her hand.  “Can I hold you?  Please?”  My heartbeat thunders so loudly I almost don’t hear what she asks.  Cautiously, I nod and step up onto her hand, raised just a bit higher than a stair.  She won’t hurt you, she won’t hurt you, she won’t hurt you.

I’ve never interacted with a human before her, but I’ve seen it happen before.  My brother — well, he wasn’t actually my brother, but we always called eachother that — had been found by a human.  I was there.  It was pitch dark, perfect time for borrowing.  We’d forgotten a light, but Gin scoffed at the idea of going back for one — until he stepped into a mouse trap.  Every once and a while I’ll still hear the awful noise made when the trap snapped closed on him.  The human came running when they heard the gargled shriek, and the last thing he told me was to leave him there.  The metal beam that had crunched around his midsection somehow hadn’t killed him, but his body was far from unharmed.

From a grate in the floor nearby, I watched as the human found him, ensured him things would be alright, and pulled him out of the trap — tearing him in two.  In hindsight, I don’t think the human meant to kill him.  They screamed and dropped the half of him they were holding.  I was too stricken and horrified to process that in the moment, so I just ran.

“Fen?”  I flinched so violently I nearly knocked myself in the face with my hand, instinctively trying to cover my head with my arms.  “Are you ok?  You look sick.  If this makes you uncomfortable, I can put you back down.  You didn’t have to get on.”  It’s just like in the car — her blue-eyed gaze looking me over with genuine concern.  “I- I’m alright.”  She gently shakes her head.  “You aren’t, though.  You’re shaking.”  The gentlest pressure alights on my chest as a soft finger brushes up against it.  “And your heart’s beating really fast.”  Her touch is so soft — incredibly cautious like she’s holding something precious and delicate.  Maybe I am, to her.  It’s nothing like what I had imagined a human would feel like, nothing at all.

In a brief moment of weakness, my eyes tear up and I squeeze her finger closer, pressing my forehead against it.  It is absolutely terrifying thinking about where I am.  I’ve spent all my life believing it’s a place of certain death.  Why is it so comfortable?  All Alice would have to do to hurt me is close her fist and squeeze.  My fate wouldn’t be that much different than Gin’s.  She won’t hurt you, she won’t hurt you, she won’t hurt you.

Everything shifts around me and I rush to get out of her grip, immediately fearing that my imagination somehow willed an awful reality.  But Alice brings me up to her chest and holds me gently against it.  She tucks me against her sternum as her head comes to rest behind her hands that hold me.  “It’s alright now.”  I’m not sure if she’s assuring me, or herself, but I accept it and bring myself snugly against her.  It’s blissfully warm there.  While the walls where I live aren’t nearly as freezing as the outdoors, they’re still plenty cold.  The heat is more than welcome.  My wild pulse softens into a much normal rhythm while I listen to Alice’s own heartbeat thrumming beneath her skin.

Things are fuzzy in my mind beyond that moment.  I’ve been up for a full twenty-four hours, and the night before was only worse than the last.  I remember stumbling off her palm onto her desk, watching dazedly as Alice looked around the room for something.  She finds it and places it down for me.  It’s a little blanket folded over so it can be both a mattress and blanket at the same time.  I crawl into it, listening to the sound of pencil scratches on paper for only a few minutes before I fall asleep mumbling a weary ‘thank you’.

[velidewrites]

Don’t Look Back

Five hundred years ago, the humans fought hard for their freedom in the Great War and won. Now, their former masters seek retribution in a rebellion that grows stronger year by year. When Elain Archeron finds out marrying Greysen Nolan might be the only solution to keep her family safe from the ancient, cruel Fae, she doesn't hesitate to fulfil her duty. What Elain doesn't know, though, is that the man with the fiery hair and russet eyes is not her fiancé, but his killer—and when she finally finds out, well…it will be far too late to turn back.

Chapter 5/15 || Read on AO3 || Go to Chapter 1

Chapter 5: The Hold

Much to Elain’s dismay, Lucien decided to put a blindfold on her before she managed to examine the strange place.

The Vanserra Hold, Lucien had called it. All Elain had caught a glimpse of, though, was the circular clearing, and the fire burning around it. As far as she was concerned, the only things this forest held were the Vanserras’ egos and a rather pungent collection of mud.

She could feel the magic around her, though. The metallic tinge of it was familiar enough for her to make out through this blend of autumn and sunlight—she had scented it on more than one occasion in her father’s private repository. It was almost like autumn had somehow found a way to trap this piece of land as the rest of the world moved through the rest of the seasons unaffected.

Despite herself, Elain enjoyed the way it warmed her skin. Her body seemed to move of its own accord as she tilted her chin upwards, as though to soak up whatever light the gaps between the trees offered.

Doing so had been a mistake—something sharp caught in her hair, grazing against the back of her neck lightly, and Elain jumped at the sensation.

“Stop moving,” Lucien instructed, tying the piece of cloth around her head at last. The blindfold may have covered her sight—her entire face, really—but Elain could practically hear his eyes roll at her reaction to his claws. “I thought you weren’t afraid of monsters, Princess,” he teased.

“Stop calling me that,” she barked. Frankly, she was starting to get quite sick of his little jabs—sick of everyone calling her the title she had not earned. In their mouths, it had always sounded like at worst mockery. At best, it had been respect for her father, not Elain. Never Elain.

She felt Lucien shrug. “I’ll call you whatever I like,” he said, taking a step back as if to admire his work. “You’ve had no trouble calling me a beast earlier.”

“I never said beast,” Elain corrected.

A sigh. “Beast, monster,” Lucien said. “Creature. It’s all the same to me, just as I know it’s all the same to you.”

Behind the blindfold, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t presume to know what I mean,” she hissed. “You are a monster. You killed my mother.” 

“Eris did.”

“I don’t imagine you tried stopping him,” Elain said, crossing her arms over her chest in accusation. “He doesn’t even feel a shred of remorse about it.”

Lucien snorted. “No, he does not,” he said. “And neither do I. Think of me whatever you like, Princess, but I’m not even half the monster your mother was.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d heard the Fae slander her mother in the past few hours. The two of them had never been as close as Elain had wished—Mother had always seemed to prefer Nesta, which, as disappointing as it once had been, was not surprising in the least. Nesta was, and always had been, a force to be reckoned with—an heir that would strengthen the Merchant’s position in the new world no matter the odds. Elain…Mother had never once looked at Elain the way she would look at Nesta. With pride, with determination. Still, Elain supposed, it was better than Mother never looking at her at all.

As much as she’d always underestimated Elain, and ignored her youngest daughter completely, Elain had never believed her mother to be a bad person. She was ambitious, yes—stricter than most parents would have been, even the titled ones—but a monster…

She wished she wasn’t blindfolded, if only to give Lucien the nastiest look possible as she told him, “I don’t believe you.”

An equally nasty retort must have been armed at the ready on Lucien’s tongue, because Vassa interjected, reminding them both of her presence, “Give them a chance, Elain.” A hand on her shoulder—Vassa’s, thankfully, if the gentleness of the touch was any indication. “I promise you, all will be explained soon.”

“Ah, yes. The truth.” Elain rolled her eyes, and, as politely as she could muster for old time’s sake, shook Vassa’s hand off. “I want to believe you, Vassa, but how can you be sure they didn’t use their magic to lure you over to their side?” she asked, then added, “In New Prythian, they tell us if the Fae who could hold a person’s mind like it was nothing. Who could make it their own with less than a snap of their fingers. How can you be sure they haven’t done the same to you?”

To her utmost surprise, Vassa giggled. “Eris doesn’t have this ability,” she said. “And neither does Lucien—though I imagine he feels very bitter about it.”

A low scoff sounded beside them. “Can you not see me standing here?”

“Either way,” Vassa continued as if Lucien hadn’t spoken at all, “I didn’t simply trust their word, if that’s what you’re afraid of. There is…” she hesitated. “An object.”

Perhaps it was the Merchant’s daughter in her—but Elain’s brows rose. “An object?” she asked, her interest piqued as her mind began running through her father’s collection of truth-enhancing artifacts.

Lucien hissed. “Not here, Vassa.”

Vassa sighed deeply. “Sorry, Elain,” she told her. “You’ll have to be patient with us, I’m afraid.”

Elain huffed. “It’s hard to be patient with a blindfold around my face,” she complained, blowing the loosened cloth away from her mouth. “I can hardly breathe.”

A light step towards her crunched one of the autumn-coloured leaves as long, slender fingers reached for her, gently adjusting the blindfold and pulling it high enough to expose her mouth to the sunlight once again. It was a nice change from Lucien’s talons and Vassa re-tied the piece of fabric—a little tighter this time, yet not tight enough to pull on so much as a strand of hair.

“Thank you,” Elain told her, shoulders relaxing in Vassa’s warm presence.

But it wasn’t Vassa’s voice who spoke back, so close to Elain’s face she could almost feel its owner’s breath on her neck as he pulled back. “You’re welcome,” Lucien said quietly, leaving nothing but a light tingle on her skin.

The memory of his body’s closeness to her own made Elain suck in a breath, and, for the first time, she truly allowed herself to think about the events before she discovered Lucien’s deception. The way he’d swayed her in a dance, a strong hand braced gently on her waist. The way his laugh rasped against her ear as he told her her eyes were the most beautiful he had ever seen—as she had confessed the exact same to him before pressing her mouth to his own.

The reminder of it—the lie, made her empty chest tighten. But before she could take her thanks back, before she could blow up at him for tying her up and taking her from her home all over again, the sound of someone’s steps reached her ears.

Eris stopped by her side, tall and commanding. “If you three are done wasting our time, I suggest we get moving.”

“Let me help you,” Vassa offered, taking Elain by the arm. “This really wasn’t necessary, Eris,” she added pointedly, her gaze palpable on the cloth covering half of Elain’s face.

“I can’t have her running back to the Merchant and spilling all our secrets,” Eris said calmly. “The entrance to the Hold is sealed and has never been opened by anyone who doesn’t bear the Vanserra name.”

And with that, he simply turned and left again.

“So demanding, these males,” Vassa hummed, and, with a light tug as her only invitation, Elain started walking.

The heat of the fire burning atop the pillars signalled that they reached the very centre of the bizarre circle—the entrance to their family hold, Elain suspected from Eris’s words. As much as she hated to admit it, Eris had been smart to demand a blindfold be put on her. Elain would’ve started noting every corner of this place into her mind had she only been able to see them.

Still, she would make do with whatever clues she’d been offered. The ground changed beneath her feet, the heavy echo of stone signalling what had to be a door. The Vanserra Hold laid underground, then—it was not some invisible fortress hidden between the trees she’d initially suspected had been glamoured using whatever remnants of High Lord magic Eris still possessed. If he indeed was the direct descendant of Old Prythian’s Fae regime, Elain needed to be careful. The Fae’s magic had become nothing but a shadow of its past might, but—as Elain had learned—darkness could be haunting if one walked into it blind.

Silently, she cursed the damn blindfold again.

Around her, the flames intensified, and Elain could feel it blaze high up into the sky at whatever command Eris had given it. To have such power over an element, especially one as uncontrollable as fire, filled Elain with unease. Just what, exactly, could the Vanserras do with the fire in their blood?

The stone rattled loudly beneath her feet, and she felt Vassa pull on her arm once more as if to get her to step back. Elain obeyed. She may not have appreciated being taken here, but that hardly meant she’d let herself be swallowed by the depths of the earth itself.

Apparently, she was instead supposed to walk into them of her own volition. The entrance had stopped moving after a few seconds, its final groan sounding in what had to be a hallway stretching underneath. After Vassa murmured something that suspiciously sounded like “stairs,” Elain realised this might take a while.

To have survived this long—five hundred years after the War, to be exact—the Vanserras must have taken all the precautions their magic had allowed for to protect themselves. The Hold must have been carved deep into this enchanted piece of land. Elain couldn’t help but feel some excitement at the thought of being one of the few humans allowed to step foot in it.

Kidnapped or not, she was in Old Prythian. She had visited Braemar only once as a child, and, even so, she had spent the entire trip either in her father’s golden carriage—so unlike the half-rotten wooden wagon Lucien and Eris had her travel in—or the Huntsman’s fortified castle. She wasn’t even allowed outside—not that the Huntsman had any gardens or sights to offer beyond the hunting rounds surrounding his residence. Elain wondered how Vassa must have felt leaving that place for good—seeing the world beyond her father’s iron gates.

Elain had always found ways to occupy herself. The Archeron Manor boasted acres upon acres of rolling green hills, of greenhouses and little fruit orchards Elain tended to on summer days. It was her way of being useful, in whatever way she could. She was not a tactician the way Nesta or her mother had been, or a free spirit like Feyre, sneaking off the family grounds whatever chance she could. Perhaps it was why Elain hadn’t ended up married to one of the most powerful men in the world, like Nesta. Perhaps it was also why she hadn’t ended up killed like Feyre.

The thought made something heavy lodge itself into her throat as she began descending down the stairs. Her quiet life spent conforming to the rules may have avoided her being married to a family as cruel as the Harvester’s, or being taken by the Fae and presumed dead. But, about to discover the trove of one of the most ancient magical families Prythian had ever seen, Elain couldn’t help but wonder if she ever truly lived at all.

Nesta had hardly written her at all these days, kept under the Harvester’s close watch, but Elain had no doubt her older sister’s scheming did not end with her marriage. And Feyre—her wild, wonderful Feyre—while she hadn’t lived very long, Elain knew that, if given another chance, Feyre would not have let herself be trapped in their family’s manor for the sake of something as fleeting as safety.

Perhaps, eventually, she would have run away the way Vassa had, which brought Elain back to the question she’d been meaning to ask ever since that awful carriage ride to the Hold.

“How on earth did you manage to kill twelve men on your own?” she turned to Vassa, grimacing at yet another wet drop of watery mud gracing the top of her head. From the amount of cracks in the ceiling, Elain deduced the Vanserra Hold was a lot older than five hundred years—perhaps twice that, or even more.

“You don’t get to be the Huntsman’s daughter without learning how to fight,” Vassa said, a sly smile creeping into her tone. “I became a warrior on the day I learned how to stand.” Then, “I could teach you, if you’d like,” she offered.

“Oh, I’m no warrior,” Elain said. Someone like Feyre or Nesta may have taken her up on the offer, but Elain…

“Just because you’re not a warrior doesn’t mean you can’t learn how to fight—to defend yourself,” Vassa said. “Lucien isn’t a warrior, but I can assure you he knows how to land a strike or two.”

Somewhere behind them, Lucien scoffed. “Excuse me—“

“Oh, shut it,” Vassa interrupted, much to Elain’s content.

The corridor rumbled with a snarl in answer.

Elain jerked her chin pointedly at Lucien. “He sure seems like a warrior to me,” she told Vassa, who laughed at the comment.

“Lucien commands one of our legions, but his primary role is diplomatic in nature.” Elain felt her shrug. “He’s an emissary—sometimes even a courtier, when the situation demands it.”

Elain arched an eyebrow. “Courtier?” She scoffed. “I’ll make sure to advise all the other human courts to keep him off the guest list.”

Courtier. The Fae certainly had some way of showing it. As far as political envoys went, Elain was pretty sure she’d never heard of kidnapping their host being one of their responsibilities.

Lucien seemed entirely unbothered by her not-so-subtle dig. “I have no desire to attend your human parties—if you can even call them that—ever again,” he said.

Rude. “Looks like he could use some additional training,” she said to Vassa. The woman laughed again, apparently all too happy to play witness to their exchange.

Lucien hummed lowly, the sound reverberating into her bones. “You seemed to find my presence perfectly enjoyable, Princess,” he teased, the stupid nickname quickly prompting the return of the anger she’d been stifling.

Lucien Vanserra was such a liar.

“Is he always this insufferable?” Elain asked gruffly.

Vassa’s chuckle danced off the stone walls. “Oh, yes,” she told her. “Worse, even.”

Elain didn’t get the chance to play along—the entire party came to a halt.

She heard the crackling of flames again, followed by a quiet whisper of something she couldn’t quite discern from Eris’s lips—and then, a loud grunt of heavy, wooden doors, protesting against the clearly rusted, iron hinges.

Vassa led her into the room, an almost indiscernible gust of wind greeting them as they entered. Elain felt the wooden panels beneath her feet—then a balustrade, smooth and polished as though recently renewed. She rested her hands on the wood, then reached out only to find an empty space.

A pair of hands reached the knot tied at the back of her head, working smoothly to undo it. Elain nearly sighed with relief as the material fell from her face, and her gaze immediately darted to follow its direction.

It did not rest discarded on the floor—no, her blindfold kept on floating downwards, down what had to be at least ten stories built deep into the core of the earth, each of them a trove for the Vanserras’—for Prythian’s—most ancient history.

Books, tomes so old she could make out their yellowed pages from the balustrade overlooking the cylindrical space—filled every shelf along with scrolls Elain’s trained eyes couldn’t even begin to try to date. Chests, scattered and squeezed into every empty corner, It did not rest discarded on the floor—no, her blindfold kept on floating downwards, down what had to be at least ten stories built deep into the core of the earth, each of them a trove for the Vanserras’—for Prythian’s—most ancient history.

Books, tomes so old she could make out their yellowed pages from the balustrade overlooking the cylindrical space—filled every shelf along with scrolls Elain’s trained eyes couldn’t even begin to try to date. Chests, scattered and squeezed into every empty space, containing what Elain had to imagine were artifacts the family had gathered over the course of their entire lineage. Sofas, ottomans and small, cushioned puffs waiting at every level, as if to provide reprieve for every Vanserra wishing to take a moment to study the knowledge and wisdom of his ancestors. The entire place had been crafter of warm, auburn wood, with small globes of fire trapped within stained glass floating around calmly, illuminating the space.

It was a library. It was a treasury. It was a home.

Eris led them to the left of the small balcony, then through a foyer where the staircase to the first downstairs level stretched out, and a door waited patiently to let new visitors in. Eris ignored the staircase, much to Elain’s disappointment, and wrapped a freckled hand around the golden handle—then twisted.

They walked into an unassuming, circular study, with red sofas and a large, heavy desk placed at the back of the room. The entire wall was clad in paintings—some of them portraits of the Vanserras of old, most brown or red-headed, all with a piercing, fiery stare—and others displaying scenes of a hunt, with the family mounting proud stallions and flaunting red banners, hoardes of greyhounds running at their side.

The Vanserras, Elain realised right there and then, had once been royalty.

“Stay here,” Eris instructed, as if thoroughly unimpressed by the scenes laid out before him. “Vassa, I need you with me,” he then said, and, without so much as turning over his shoulder, went out the door.

The only thing Vassa offered Elain before following in the High Lord’s footsteps was a rather exaggerated roll of her eyes. “All those centuries, and they never learned to say please.”

***

Because luck seemed to have made its personal nemesis out of Lucien, he was left in the room with Elain Archeron. Alone.

He did not support Eris’s decision to bring her into the Hold. It had always been a trove of their family’s legacy, and, more importantly, their secrets tha Elain was not privy to. With the exception of a few close allies, no living beings apart from Lucien and his brother knew about this place, and Lucien preferred to keep it that way. There were so few places he could call home these days.

The truth, as Vassa had so eloquently put it, could have been revealed to Elain somewhere else. As far as Lucien was concerned, the Merchant’s daughter, of all people, had no business stepping foot into the Vanserra Hold.

But, for some reason far beyond Lucien’s imagination, Eris wanted her here, even when her family had proven time and time again they were not to be trusted.

He would speak to his brother about this later. For now, apparently, he was Elain Archeron’s assigned guard dog.

Lucien dared a glance at the human Princess, and regretted it almost immediately. As much as he didn’t enjoy her presence in his home, she might very well have been the most beautiful thing that had ever made its way into the Vanserra thought.

He could almost feel his ancestors’ sharp looks of disapproval from the portraits above him, as if they had heard the traitorous thought. They haven’t spent much time alone, and yet, whenever the two of them had found themselves with no company to interrupt them, Lucien had a hard time remembering what Elain truly was. It felt strange—that something so beautiful could have come from a lineage of such monsters.

There was simply something about the way she took in her surroundings, wide-eyed with the awe written all over her face—as though she could feel the magic buzzing in this place. It lit up her features like the fire shining above them, like the sunlight warming the entrance to the Hold, turning her brown eyes into pure, liquid honey.

There was some wariness etched into her face, too, though. She must have recognised exactly how much power this place housed, and how unmatched she stood in comparison had she tried to run away again. Clever little thing—he could practically see the wheels of her mind turning, cataloguing every image, every object into the pages of her memory to report to her father later.

Over Lucien’s dead body would he ever let that happen. 

“I have to ask,” Elain’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “What was so horrible about our human parties?”

Lucien blinked—how she’d always managed to catch him off guard, he did not know, and frankly, he didn’t want to. Perhaps it truly was some magic the Archerons passed down to one another generation after generation. Perhaps it was in their blood to be the thorn in the Vanserras’ side.

Their conversation from a few minutes ago flitted back into his memory. What wasn’t wrong with the humans’ dreadful balls and ceremonies, really?

He told her exactly that. “They lack…life. You walk into the room and the very air drowns you.” He shook his head, recalling the engagement festivities arranged by her father. “It’s impressive at first, I’ll give you that—the walls and chandeliers dripping in gold, and the finest cuisine the world has to offer.” He grimaced. “But then, the music starts playing—and it may be performed by some of the most sought after quartets in Prythian, but…”

Elain’s perfect brows rose an inch. “But?”

“The dancing—all of it, really—it feels like a chore. A formality required to earn some standing in society. Your parties,” Lucien added, the word he’d been chasing finally finding its way onto his lips, “feel like a contract. The dullness, the lacklustre monotony of it—

Elain huffed. “Alright, I get the picture,” she interrupted, but Lucien hadn’t missed the curiosity in her gaze as she side eyed the scenes of the hunt stretched out beside them. “What are your parties like, then?” she asked.

It may have been the longest the two of them had spoken since the ball, Lucien realised. So little time had passed since then that it almost felt as though they were continuing their conversation from the night before. “I’m only a little over four hundred years old,” he told her, ignoring the shock parting her mouth at his words. “I never got to witness my predecessors’ celebrations before the War, or any of their holidays for that matter. A shame, really.” He felt his mouth twitch. “One of those holidays, I think I would have been a most devoted participant of.”

“I have a feeling I know where this is going—something terribly Fae and uncouth.”

“Quite,” Lucien agreed, unable to keep the grin off his face. Something told him he was going to enjoy scandalising this female—this woman—his mind immediately corrected, but he ignored the voice anyway. “In most parts of the world, they called it Calanmai, or Fire Night. It originated in the Spring Court, actually—the lands your family has claimed as New Prythian.”

Elain frowned. “We do not have any such holidays in our records.”

Lucien scoffed. “Of course not. I don’t imagine you humans would have found it appropriate by any means. Calanmai was a celebration of the coming of spring—and in the Court itself, it was a most sacred ritual performed by the High Lord to imbue magic into the land. Think of bonfires, thousands of them, lighting up every hill, smoke lilting into the stars. Drums, loud and echoing into the night. And wine—so much of it that you’d end up falling asleep under the sky, waking up to the spring breeze in your hair. The sun warming your face.”

Lucien cleared his throat. “Or, at least, that is how it was described to me.”

He could have sworn something pink heated in Elain’s cheeks. “I could see it, you know. You being a courtier—when you’re not such a condescending asshole, that is.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “I have never met a Princess so crass before,” he purred, deeply revelling in the resentment she bore for the nickname. How could she not be a Princess, though? Everything about her stance radiated command as she crossed her arms in disdain, her full lips pursing and those doe-like eyes flashing with challenge.

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Lucien’s mouth twitched. “And I told you I’ll call you whatever I like,” he said. “Comes with the Asshole title, I’m afraid.”

Delighted, he watched as Elain whirled back to the Vanserra family portraits, murmuring something that suspiciously like prick and ridiculous, even her ears flushing that warm, lovely pink. Lucien smiled to himself.

“So, what was the ritual?” Elain’s voice reached him, still gruff as she focused on the rather unpleasant profile of Lucien’s great-great grandfather.

“Ritual?” Lucien questioned, his attention refusing to step back as far as two minutes ago for reasons unbeknownst to him.

Finally, Elain turned to him again. “Calanmai,” she reminded him.

Right. Lucien coughed again. “As I mentioned, infusing magic back into the land was the primary aim of the celebrations—it was the High Lord’s obligation to perform what was called the Great Rite.”

Elain’s brows knitted. “And how, exactly, was he supposed to do that?”

The grin made its way back Lucien’s face as he explained, “Every year, the High Lord of the Spring Court allowed the power of the Rite into his veins. Transformed into a beast, a creature of the very essence of spring, he would allow it to seize his body, his mind, his senses entirely.” He met Elain’s gaze directly as he added. “Each year, the magic would choose a Maiden—usually one of the members of Calanmai celebrations—a companion for the High Lord to…complete the Rite.”

Elain’s eyes widened. “They—they would—”

“Fuck, yes,” Lucien completed for her with a wave of his hand, eliciting a small gasp from Elain’s lips. He chuckled. “And, with the act, they would ah, release the magic into the land. To allow crops to grow healthier, of course.”

The silence hung between them long enough that Lucien couldn’t help but tease her some more. “Something wrong, little fawn?” he asked, realising that he was indeed thoroughly enjoying this—and that perhaps it was a good thing Eris or Vassa weren’t here to scold him for scandalising their guest a step too far. In his defence, Elain had asked him first.

“Your parties sound outrageous,” Elain finally said, that heat in her cheeks rising.

Lucien winked. “That’s exactly what parties should be, Princess.”

Elain smiled at that—a true smile, the kind she’d offered Vassa when she first saw her at the camp. The same kind she’d offered him when she hadn’t yet thought him an utter monster. “Is that why you brought me here? To show me how to throw better parties?”

Lucien choked. “Show you?”

The picture of it invaded his mind without warning—an image of him and Elain partying the way Lucien’s ancestors demanded it. A cave, lit up by faelight and thrumming with magic, their bodies naked and intertwined on the mossy earth, its fragrance mixing with their sweat. Elain laid out bare beneath him, her breasts heaving up and down in panting, shallow breaths as he entered her, so perfect and ready for his taking, his—

Lucien sucked in a breath, nearly choking again on the force of it, the force of the picture pushed back into the darkest, most secret corners of his mind. Eris and Vassa should have been here after all, if only to remind him of what happened the last time Lucien Vanserra had decided to trust a human like Elain Archeron.

Because she was a human. And the humans—the humans took his mother. His father, however horrible he had been. His brothers. They had nearly taken Eris, too, and Lucien’s heart right with it.

Lucien would not let it happen again. He would not let another Jesminda into his life.

“Of course,” he said tightly, “My people’s traditions would not have faded from common memory had it not been for you humans.” He shrugged. “As for why we brought you here—take it up with Eris. If it were for me, I would have never brought you into the Hold.”

He could see it—the way Elain’s smile faded. The confusion filling her shining stare, blending into hurt, so sharp it could no doubt pierce his own chest if she only stepped in closely enough.

Lucien could see it all, and the worst part of it was that he hated himself for it.

“We brought you into the Hold,” Eris voice sounded from a place Lucien was not yet ready to return to yet as his brother walked back into the study, Vassa falling into step beside him, “Because it was the safest place to show you this.”

In a few long strides, Eris reached the desk, and placed the heavy object right at its middle, the wood croaking slightly under its weight. A thick red fabric—an old Vanserra banner, from the looks of it—covered the globe entirely. Eris motioned for Elain to step in closer—and she did, as if drawn by the mystery of it alone. Lucien, though—Lucien remained frozen in place.

“This,” Eris began, placing his hand atop the smooth surface, “is the Veritas Orb.” In one, swift motion, he slid the banner off, revealing one of their family’s most prized and priceless possessions. The Orb shone a quiet, crystalline light, as though somehow made of all the colours and none of them at all, humming gently at the closeness of its owner’s hand—as if begging. Touch me. Talk to me. Ask me.

But Eris turned from its whisper—and looked at the Merchant’s daughter who stood in utter shock, mesmerised by the treasure laid out right before her.

“So, Elain Archeron.” Eris smiled. “Are you ready to learn the truth?”

[electricbluebutterflies]

Cala and Tenax, bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go

PG-ish and also on ao3.

She won’t ask. She’s learning not to want to ask. It is somehow enough that he comes home at all, at a decent hour by the standards that seem to be kept, intact except for-

“Let me.”

Cala is nothing if not adaptable. If damage control is the tradeoff for being able to sleep safely, so be it.

That’s all this is right now, she thinks as she finds water and cloth. Just her being a decent person to live with, something she’d do for anyone she was in equivalent position with, not that she’d know, not that she’s ever lived with anyone she wasn’t related to before or-

“Nothing happened. It’s not… it was an accident.”

She believes him, and she can see how it could happen. A brush of a sharp object not noticed on the way home, such things do happen, there is still that tendency in her to worry but-

“Bleeds like an accident,” she murmurs. She wonders if he can even feel anything so minor anymore. The stories she hears sound like miracles of survival, like the gods don’t want him either, like-

“I could’ve-“

“You’re not alone anymore.”

She looks up to see a certain catch of breath, then back to her task. It’s just a light cut and the bleeding has mostly stopped, and a bandage for a few days and… telling him to be careful until it’s exposed again might be the only thing he wouldn’t listen to, she’s starting to suspect, but-

Her fingers linger as she knots the bandage, and her mind wanders. He doesn’t casually touch anyone else, she’s noticed, and she suspects there’s some frightful reason for it that she doesn’t know yet, but somehow she’s an exception, and-

His fingers curl upwards to cover hers, and she should recoil, and she doesn’t. This isn’t particularly forward, doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t-

“That should do.”

“You don’t have to-“

“Easier to tie a bandage with two hands.”

Even now, she learns to justify. Even now, making sure the ends are tucked and the strip of cloth isn’t too binding, she finds reasons for things she also does because she wants them.

Let there be time, she thinks as she takes a step back, as she feels the absence of touch she has barely accepted she wants. Let them have time to figure this out. They’re going to need it.

“You do too much.”

“Earning favors for when you have something I want.”

“You already have… everything.”

Not whatever heart may or may not lurk under all those walls and thorns, she thinks as she walks away. Not yet. But soon, maybe.

[serendipitys-teapot]

Guys, guys, guys 🥰

Loyalty and Limerence just hit 🎉700 kudos🎉, and I'm just so touched and joyful that so many people read and enjoyed my last fic. Thank you to all my lovely readers!

I'm currently writing the last chapter of my next fic, which I'm really hoping to have edited and out the door in the near future. Side note, I think I'm going to look into commissioning some art for it, do I have any artist friends who might be interested before I go searching? I'm hoping to find someone whose style matches the vibe of the fic.

Speaking of which, I'd like to share a snippet from this fic for those who are interested!

“Who is she?” Shepard whispered as Jack took a few tentative steps closer to the asari standing by the fountain. “A Spectre.” Garrus growled under his breath, and she felt a shiver run down her spine as her entire body chilled. “It might not be the worst case scenario, but it’s damn close.” Shepard forced herself to stillness, even as every fiber of her being screamed for her to run. If Garrus thought it was safe to stay, then perhaps it was. But it was hard to not begin inching back into the shadows of the alleyway. Somewhere in the back of her brain, a voice chuckled as memories prickled across her skin like needles, pressing into all her most sensitive spots. I win again, Jane.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d show up.” Vasir announced flippantly, and Shepard looked up as Jack appeared to stiffen. “I gave you my fucking word, didn’t I?” She snapped angrily, and the asari’s amused brow crept further upward. “Whatever. You’re here now, and that’s what matters.” “Now what the fuck do you want from me? Who are you, and how did you get my contact info?” Jack took a step closer, and both began to speak with low voices that didn’t carry well across the space. They listened for a minute or two without picking up anything they could understand. Garrus cursed. “I don’t understand.” Shepard frowned as she looked at him in confusion. “Why isn’t Vasir attacking her? Don’t Spectres try to kill people like her?” Even as the words left her mouth, Shepard remembered the proposition given to her the instant before Saren had thrown her from the rooftop. “Or is Vasir trying to use her to get to us somehow?” Garrus seemed to consider his words before responding quietly as he looked back at her. “Spectres don’t always want to kill them. Sometimes they recruit them instead.” Shepard’s eyes widened in shocked surprise.

“Recruit them? So, you think Vasir wants to make Jack a Spectre?” “It’s possible. Either that, or she wants to recruit her to join Cerberus. It’s impossible to tell at this point.” They both watched as Vasir gestured to Jack, her expression turning serious as the human woman turned and rolled her eyes at something the asari had said. Vasir took a step closer, her smile returning as she placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder, causing her to look back up at her with suspicion. “Come on, we need to get out of here.” Garrus murmured as he gestured for Shepard to back up. Carefully, she scootched backwards before slowly getting to her feet, her heart suddenly hammering in her chest again. She’d been training for months, and yet this was the first time she’d truly been within danger’s reach since joining the crew. It made her knees weak, and she worked hard to reign in her fear. Taking one more step backwards, she froze as something clattered to the ground behind her. She turned to see a metal garbage bin on its side, the lid rolling to a stop noisily. Turning, she looked up in horror as Vasir’s and Jack’s eyes landed on their hiding spot. Vasir’s smiled widened like a snake’s as she brought her omni-tool up and said something under her breath. “Run.” Garrus hissed as he turned and took off down the alleyway, Shepard hot on his heels. “Liara, we’ve been spotted. We need an exit. Now!” “On it!” Their footsteps were now the ones echoing off the walls as they sprinted back the way they’d come, and though they couldn’t hear anyone pursuing, they could hear the far-off sound of sirens as they exited the alley into the busy shopping district. “She’s called C-Sec on us.” Garrus stated as he started off down the sidewalk, and Shepard noted with relief the difference in her stamina from the last time she’d followed him at a full sprint through the Citadel. “Do Spectres hold official ranks? Is that why they can command C-Sec officers?” Shepard asked as she caught up to him, the sirens growing ever louder. “C-Sec,” Garrus spat with a sneering flick of his mandibles, “are nothing more than pawns. The Spectres and the GETH move them around the board like game pieces for whatever purpose they need.” The words were said with such vehemence and spite that Shepard blinked in surprise. “Okay, I have an route for you, but you’re not going to like it.” Liara’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and Garrus groaned. “How far?” “You’re going to need to get all the way to the Silversun Strip.”

[newtabfics]

Returned: Rauru x Fem!Reader NSFT Series. Part 1

Summary: Rauru is somehow revived in modern Hyrule and his instincts have gone insane as he realizes he's lost his mate.

Triggers for mild dubcon elements as well as just nsft stuff.

He had gripped his wife’s hand. If he had a heart still, he knew it’d be hammering. His mate before him always left him feeling content. Burying her felt like burying his own heart. He pulled her close as he felt the pull of the afterlife, knowing he was content being with her again before cold sucked him down.

With a shout, he lurched upward, blinking up at the thundering sky. His body trembled as he looked around, hoping to see her. When he found nothing but trees surrounding him, he let out an animalistic cry of anguish that sent the birds from their trees.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Please do be careful,” Zelda sighed as Y/N mounted her horse.

“Z, you have to relax. I know what I’m doing. Besides, it’s probably an Octorok. Master Link taught me enough to know what I’m doing when it comes to those suckers,” she said proudly.

Link snorted behind Zelda, looking away sheepishly at her look before she sighed and nodded. “Alright. Just don’t get over your head.”

“I won’t. I’ll retreat and report to any security members if it comes to it,” She promised before looking to Link. “Master, you should consider telling your woman to stop fretting,” She joked, earning a blush from both of them as she goaded her horse into a gallop. She laughed and waved back at them as Hateno Village disappeared behind her.

The journey through Hyrule to the Great Plateau wasn’t necessarily an arduous one. In fact, she counted herself lucky to not run into any storms in the three-day ride.

Her mission was to investigate the strange animal supposedly seen at the once-honored Temple of Time. Though it’d fallen into ruin after the Calamity, it was regarded as sacred ground. Not many people even dared to near the Great Plateau, mostly out of superstition. 

The Outskirt Stable reported a strange creature seen in the shadows of the Great Plateau. Zelda immediately wanted to investigate but everyone insisted she not as only a few short months had passed since her return. She only relented when Y/N offered to go in her stead.

She’d trained under Link, like many other alleged knights of Hyrule. Though the term fit, it hadn’t felt the same. Y/N trained under him as one of the many people who admired him.

As she trotted up to the Outskirt Stable, she was greeted by the many stable hands, smiling at the sound of the Stable Trotters–er, Stable Heroes, as they liked to go by now, playing a lovely show on the nearby stage.

“What brings you out here?” A man asked her as she entered the stable to register herself at the inn.

“Investigation. I’m sure you might’ve heard something about the weird animal out here,” She confessed, looking to him. Thanks to Link’s training, it didn’t take long for her to realize this guy was all talk. Most of his gear hardly looked used.

“Oh yeah. I’ve been avoiding the Plateua walls actually,” He confessed. “Apparently people have been avoiding it, thinking it’s a cursed spirit. With the Demon King’s defeat, people are saying something bigger might be coming.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” She chuckled, shrugging. “I mean, if what you say is coming does, then why did they hide? I mean, given they’re theoretically bigger than the Demon King, wouldn’t they have come about regardless of the Upheaval because they’re so much stronger.”

He smirked, nodding. “You got a good point. Good head on your shoulders.”

“It can do so much more,” She added, winking playfully.

She happily accepted following him out to a small camp away from the inn. There, he’d buried himself in her, her nails digging into his back as she met his thrusts.

Y/N grunted and moaned, biting her lip as he gripped her hips. His moans reverberated in her ears as he somehow managed to miss every sweet spot inside her, ensuring she hadn’t been fully satiated.

Maybe she could blame his lack of an actual length which she’d promised. Perhaps a few centimeters didn’t matter to anyone else that cared about him, but she didn’t so there was that. Thankfully, she did manage to get off enough to help her sleep that night.

Y/N sighed happily as her horse trotted up to the wall. She dismounted, patting her side as she pulled out an apple and dropped it for the horse. With a kick in her step, she began to scale up the hill into the plateau.

Looming overhead, she could see the sky islands. They never left after the Demon King’s defeat, which felt almost like a taunt to adventurers like her. She wondered if she could ever see Hyrule from above the clouds.

The sun began to set as she neared the Forest of Spirits, she stretched and scanned her surroundings. She blinked at the distant sound of bell chimes and looked up to the sky islands. She smiled as she made camp, thinking only of her investigation as she eyed the trees.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The embers died out as she lay in her tent, unaware of the being lurking closer to her. Drawn in by her scent, he moved closer to her.

His mate. His mate was nearby. He found her. He’d found his mate.

His inner beast was practically screaming with excitement as he crawled into the tent. He couldn’t stop as he crawled over her, kissing her exposed neck and rutting against her desperately. He snarled as he caught the scent of someone else on her. Someone had tried to make a claim on her and clearly failed.

She stirred at the contact before ripping away from him and kicking him away.

“Mate,” He rasped, grabbing at her leg. She kicked against him, forcing him back and out of the tent as she crawled out. As she made to escape the tent, he was on her again, burying his face into her neck and taking in her scent.

Y/N shuddered as his hands grabbed at her hips and shoved him away before running. The trees blurred past her as the chase began, trying to understand what he was. He was clearly intelligent, given he could speak Hylian, but it came garbled, almost foreign.

As she hid deep in the Forest of Spirits, her mind wandered to the way he’d rutted against her. She felt him through the clothing. She could barely make out his features, but he sure as hell wasn’t Hylian nor Zora.

When his hands found her, he pinned her to the nearby tree, eyes glazed from desperation as he loomed over her. It was then she finally took his clothing in and realized this man was Zonai.

Part Two