#violet boudoir | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thedamselzelda · 5 months ago

Text

Two Hearts Torn

Featuring: Fyodor Dostoevsky & Dazai Osamu

Summary: Broken, beaten, battered, and bruised. What keeps a heart from beating as one? For two, it's torn between losses and consequences of years past. However, in this twisted game, only calculated moves will stitch these hearts back together.

word count: 7.7k+, fem!reader, HOTD!reader, nsfw (oral sex m! receiving, unprotected sex, quick moment of domestic abuse [possessive Fyodor, very unhealthy relationship]), reader referred to with other names (no use of y/n), Russian words used (general meanings at the end), reader dissociates.

Author Chat: After an overwhelming poll, I have written another part of this story (tbh, I was a little too happy for it to win)! This part isn't as dark as I originally wrote it, as I couldn't bring myself to slander Fyodor too much. What can I say, the man is my #3 (behind my b-day buddy Chuya and my #1 Dazai ofc).

I also feel the need to mention before this part that this is an installment apart of the Beast AU. Yes, reader is married to Fyodor, however, the story is primarily a Dazai x reader story.

Hope you guys enjoy!

previous part ~ next part | LBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

You stared at your reflection in the ornate vanity mirror, the face looking back at you feeling strangely unfamiliar. With delicate movements, you began to remove the bobby pins from your hair, allowing each strand to cascade onto your shoulders. Your eyes, a striking violet, searched your own gaze in the mirror, desperately grasping for clarity amidst the whirlwind of memories from the night. A weary sigh escaped your lips as you closed your eyes and rested your head in your hands, succumbing to the flood of memories about him. The lingering effect he had on you was both frustrating and thrilling, a contradiction that left you feeling dizzy.

There was no doubt in your mind about the reason for his visit - he came solely to see you. The realization sent a shiver down your spine. Yet, his unexpected question about what it would take for you to leave the House of the Dead, to abandon your husband, had caught you completely off guard, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

You extended your arm forward, observing the glistening ring on your finger. The alexandrite stone caught the dim light of your boudoir, its colors shifting mesmerizingly from a deep emerald to a rich purple as you turned your hand. Regret washed over you like a cold wave, seeping into your bones as you contemplated your choice of gem. The stone, his birthstone, now felt like a silent betrayal, a constant reminder of the man you couldn't forget, couldn't refrain from loving despite everything. Disgust rose in your throat, bitter and biting, as you berated yourself for not choosing a simple, neutral diamond instead. The realization that your heart had once again acted without your conscious consent left you feeling raw and exposed.

Your mind drifted to the circumstances of your marriage to Fyodor. The decision felt rushed, almost impulsive in hindsight. It served no real purpose for either of you beyond Fyodor's antiquated notion of propriety. His timid words echoed in your memory, tinged with an air of pious restraint:

"I could not lay with you unless we were wed..."

You rolled your eyes at the thought, irritation prickling beneath your skin like tiny needles. Initially, aligning yourself with Fyodor had been a calculated move, a way to strike back at Dazai and the unfair hand of cards you had been dealt in life. But over time, it had evolved into something more complex, a relationship built on stolen moments - chaste kisses on hands and lips, always restrained by his devout adherence to religious principles. His unwavering commitment to God frustrated you; for what cruel deity would curse you with such an ability?

The irony of your situation wasn't lost on you. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined yourself married, not even to Dazai. Life within the Mafia, and now in the House of the Dead, seemed incompatible with such conventional milestones. You had been content in your life with Dazai, before his gradual descent into whatever labyrinthine plans now consumed him.

Now, you found yourself in a precarious position. Isolated, you focused your efforts on seizing The Book from Dazai, the key to Fyodor's grand plan of overwriting this hellish reality. The weight of this mission hung heavy on your shoulders, a constant reminder of the complex web of loyalties, desires, and regrets that now defined your existence.

A soft click of your bedroom door stole you from your thoughts, your eyes shifting in the mirror to the figure entering your room. Fyodor's reflection appeared behind you, his rich purple eyes tired, as if he had paused his work to come and deal with you.

"Oh, moya lyubov', I wasn't expecting you." The lie slipped easily from your lips, even as you knew he would see through it. You had expected him, especially after how easily Nikolai had caught on to the change in your demeanor. Damn Nikolai...

"Moya zhena, I hear you've had quite the exciting day." His voice was smooth, yet laced with an undercurrent of something you couldn't quite place.

You made no indication of moving from your position as you looked up at Fyodor in the mirror. His weary smile was laced with fondness, yet you could detect icy undertones beneath the surface. He drifted over to you, his movements graceful despite his apparent exhaustion. His hands, cool and slender, came to rest upon your shoulders as he leaned down to place a kiss upon your undone hair.

His warm breath caressed your scalp, his lips parting as if on the verge of speech. Before he could utter a word, you smoothly began recounting your evening, carefully omitting any mention of Dazai's appearance.

"It was so tedious," you sighed, reaching for your makeup remover. "And now I'll have to get the carpet replaced." You dabbed at your face, the cool liquid erasing the traces of the night. Fyodor merely hummed in response, his intense gaze following your every movement.

"I suppose I'll have to search for a new group to take on the Port Mafia," you continued, your tone deliberately casual. "Maybe I should seek help from that Detective Agency. Perhaps they would work for the right price."

"No," Fyodor interjected sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. You turned; shock evident on your features. He had never disagreed with your suggestions before, always supporting your efforts to obtain The Book.

His knuckles grazed your cheek, sending an involuntary chill down your spine. His lips curled into a malicious smile, violet eyes glittering dangerously in the dim light.

"Moy dorogoy, you've never been a terrible liar," he purred, his voice silky smooth yet laced with venom. "However, the secrets you keep have always been so apparent."

Your eyes narrowed as you searched the storm brewing before you. Suddenly, his hand wrapped around your throat, swift and firm, forcing you to your feet. The pressure increased, making each breath a struggle.

His face hovered mere millimeters from yours, his breath fanning over your lips. "You forget yourself, moya zhena. You belong to me. I know every move you make here, malen'kaya mysh'."

A desperate squeak escaped you as you gasped for air, your fingers clawing at his hand. "I know, please," you managed to choke out.

"He was here tonight," Fyodor hissed, his eyes blazing. "And I hear you two did more than just talk."

He released you abruptly, causing you to stumble back. You massaged your throat, gulping in fresh air. After regaining your composure, a smirk played on your lips. "All this because I danced with him?"

In a fluid motion, the back of his hand struck across your face, swinging back up to grasp the back of your head firmly. His voice dropped to a menacing whisper, "He is still in love with you. From how you feign the mere mention of him, I would suspect that you, moya lyubyashchaya zhena, also still love him."

A pain sparked upon your lips as you smirked, a breathy laugh escaping as you slipped into Russian, "Budto. It's as you suggested; I have initiated another plan by indulging him in a dance is all."

His eyes softened slightly, his grip on your scalp loosening. "Speak."

"He wants me to come back, to rejoin the Mafia," you explained, the words flowing effortlessly. "We can use that. Let me slip back into his good graces. He's bound to eventually have me up in his office. There, I can do what none of those assassins could, and take The Book for ourselves."

His anger was quickly replaced at your obedience, a soft smile reappearing. "Chudesnyy, moya lyubov'. I believe that is a great plan."

His eyes darted to your lips, urging you to quickly grasp the collar of his white buttoned shirt and pulled him into a kiss. His eyes fluttered closed as he kissed you lightly. You could feel him reveling in your compliance. His hand drifted from the nape of your neck, down to your waist, pulling you flush to him. His lips danced among yours, fervently melting.

Your fingers deftly toyed with the hem of his pants, coaxing a chuckle from your lover’s lips. He hummed as your body pressed against his, your hands slipping past the cloth to grasp his hardened cock. You smile at his breathy moan by your mere touch, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"What you do to me, ty lisitsa." His eyes trailed you as you dipped down to your knees. His fingers combed into your hair, pulling every last strand from your face. Your eyes panned to his as you pulled his pants down slightly to free his hardened, leaky member. One hand rested upon his hip, the other supporting him as your tongue slips out, barely brushing against his tip, tasting the salty cream from his slit. He hissed, rocking himself forward slightly to you. You hum, releasing his gaze, closing your eyes as you opened your mouth to fully take him in.

"Ugn, so beautiful, moya lyubov'." His praises reach your ears; his lips uttering your name, like a thankful prayer to his God above.

His tip reaches the back of your throat, and your eyes squeeze together to feign from gagging. You draw back slightly, barely parting your lips to allow your tongue to trail behind. Your hand pumping in your lips wake, applying gentle pressure.

He gathered your hair into one hand, using the freedom to brush a dripping tear from your cheek. "Takaya khoroshaya devochka."

Your lips close around his cock once more, dipping yourself to push your nose flush with his hips. You suppress a gag once more as your throat spasms against his length.

"I must have you, moya lyubov'," his voice shaky, nearly causing you to laugh at his submissive behavior. You don’t release him just yet, however, gently sucking as you bob upon him. His knees slightly buckle at your defiance, earning a tug of your hair, pulling you from him.

He pulls you to stand by your hair, a slight burn forming from the aggressive pull. He releases you, grasping at the vanity seat to shove it out of the way. You were next on his brief redecorating of your room. Grasping you firmly by your hips, eagerly pulling at the skirt of your formfitting dress and forcing it up to your waist. His hands roughly grip onto you before pushing you into the vanity.

You’re lifted by Fyodor to sit upon the cold surface, legs slotting open as he aggressively grasps your face to kiss you once more, as if it was his last dying breath. His member plays at your clothed cunt, slightly dripping from your arousal. His hand leaves your face, his fingers tugging at the cloth to pull it aside, aligning himself. He pulls at your waist once more, fixing the angle to allow himself to slide between your plush walls.

“Fuck!” You sharply exhale, your eyes slotting closed. Instinctively, you lurched forward to grasp onto him, and to rest your chin upon his shoulder. Your hands rested upon his nape and back, holding onto him as his hands gripped yours in a way that would leave bruises behind. His lips grazed your neck, leaving behind a trail of kisses and soft bites.

Your eyes slowly opened as his thrusts grew sloppier, evident of his impending release within you. Across from you, you saw your reflection in the closet mirror, allowing you to observe the explicit moment before you. However, your mind saw and heard different; the black hair entangled within your hands was brown and curly, the muffled, breathy moans against your neck were replaced with lowly grunts and words of praise, and the suit of the man before you became stained black.

You wanted to utter his name as you felt your release, like a call out to him to stay far away from the danger you would inflict upon him. Yet, you stifled the moan by biting your lip as you felt a warmth fill you to your core.

Fyodor sighed contently, releasing you from his harsh grip. He pulled his softening cock from your cunt, his seed dripping from you. He stepped to the side, observing his appearance within the mirror as he begins to fix himself before leaving you.

“I will get started on that plan tomorrow, moy dorogoy.” You utter as you slide from the vanity.

“Ochen' khorosho,” were his parting words to you as he began to leave for the door. You slip your dress back down, not worrying about the state of it. You notice as you look up that he is awaiting your attention before amending his last words. “See you in my next life, moy angel smerti.”

You give out a plain breathy laugh, “Till true death do us part, moya lyubov'.”

The pulsing energy of weekend nights had faded, replaced by the more subdued atmosphere of a weekday evening at The Midnight's Caress. Yet, even on these quieter nights, the club maintained a steady flow of patrons - a mix of devoted regulars and wide-eyed tourists drawn to its allure. Tonight, however, held special significance. A special visitor had arrived, someone who held a place in your heart from the days before Dazai's induction into the Port Mafia.

You made your entrance with practiced grace, descending from the second-floor terrace. Your presence commanded attention, drawing admiring glances from across the dimly lit space. Ignoring the adoration, your gaze remained fixed on your destination - the sleek bar opposite the sunken dance floor and stage.

A solitary figure occupied one of the barstools. Even from a distance, you recognized the familiar shock of unkempt auburn hair and the well-worn light brown overcoat. As you approached, you watched him raise an ornate crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid to his lips.

"And here I thought," you began, your voice carrying a hint of amusement as rich chocolate eyes met yours, “that you avoided lurking around Mafia territory at all costs, mister detective”

A warm smile spread across the man's face as he spoke your name, his tone tinged with fondness. “Well, if it's to see an old friend, I'm willing to take my chances.”

You feigned offense, placing your hands on your hips in mock indignation. “Sakunosuke Oda, did you just call me old?”

His head fell into a gentle shake, accompanied by a soft laugh that seemed to momentarily erase the tension from his features. You joined in his laughter, sliding onto the barstool next to him. While maintaining a careful distance, you positioned yourself to face outward, keeping a vigilant eye on the space between you and the stage.

Glancing sideways, you studied Oda's familiar profile, your gaze lingering on the amber liquid swirling in his glass. A mischievous glint sparked in your eye as you asked, your voice a playful whisper, "Did you pay for that?"

Oda's eyes met yours briefly, a flicker of amusement passing through them before he looked back down at the tumbler. His voice was steady, tinged with a hint of pride. "Of course."

You sighed, rolling your eyes in exaggerated exasperation. Leaning across the polished mahogany surface of the bar, you beckoned the blonde bartender with a subtle, elegant gesture. "Reimburse him," you commanded, your tone leaving no room for argument, the words crisp and authoritative in the dimly lit space.

"No, you don't have to do that," Oda protested, a faint blush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

Your response was swift and sharp, cutting through the ambient noise of the club. "He does if he would like to keep his job." The words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play in this world you both inhabited, albeit from different sides. You softened your tone slightly, adding, "My friends do not need to worry about such things here."

A teasing glint returned to Oda's eyes as he accepted his reimbursement. "Oh, you have friends now?" he quipped, his voice warm with familiarity."Oda!" You laughed, the sound genuine and unguarded. "I almost do want to make you pay now."

"That was the goal," he replied, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. He stuffed the money into his pants pocket before grasping his glass once more.

The bartender materialized behind you, placing an identical tumbler filled with amber liquid onto the bar. You gave the glass a cursory glance before turning your attention back to the club.

Oda's voice drew you back from your reverie, curiosity evident in his warm tone. "So, how is it, being a club owner?"

"Boring," you replied dryly, a hint of amusement in your eyes. "How is it, being a detective?"

"Anything but boring. I'm always doing something, it feels like," Oda responded, his voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction.

You nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing your face. Memories of your shared past flickered through your mind, a reminder of the complex relationship that bound you both.

Oda's voice softened as he continued, "We just recently recruited this boy."A breathy chuckle escaped your lips. "So, you've taken in another orphan. I swear, are you raising an army over there?"

Oda's rich laughter echoed within the glass at his lips, the sound warm and comforting. "It does seem like that, doesn't it?" He paused, his expression growing more serious. "I worry about this boy. I picked him up on the riverbank, and he attempted to attack me."

You listened intently, grateful for the chance to lend an ear to your friend's concerns. The ambient noise of the club faded into the background as you focused on Oda's words.

"I don't know what it is about this boy," Oda continued, his brow furrowing slightly. "He's in search of his sister... harbors the unruliest plans for this man that he describes as 'the man in black.'"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you turned to meet Oda's intrigued gaze. "This boy," you began cautiously, "does he have black hair? Two little tufts of white on the ends?"

Oda gave a hesitant nod, his hand now outstretched to offer you your glass. You accepted it carefully, the cool crystal a stark contrast to the warmth of realization spreading through you.

"Be careful of that boy. I remember his name clearly. Akutagawa Ryūnosuke." Your voice lowered, heavy with the weight of memory. You looked down at your glass, tapping your fingers along its surface rhythmically. "I was there when the Port Mafia found him, shortly before I left for Italy. There were plans to recruit him. However, it was determined... that he was unfit to join us."

Your eyes rose to meet Oda's, his face a careful mask hiding his thoughts. "There is a beast inside of that boy, Oda. I pray that you teach and guide him, to learn to tame it."

You paused, bringing the crystal glass to your lips for a sip. As the whiskey touched your tongue, your eyes widened in surprise. You pulled the glass back, glancing towards the shelves behind the bar. Your gaze settled on a familiar bottle, its amber contents glowing softly in the low light. You eyed it with a mixture of suspicion and resigned amusement. That snake, you thought, recognizing Dazai's handiwork in the choice of spirits.

Shaking your head slightly, you made a mental note to address that matter later. Your voice grew heavy with warning as you continued, "Or that beast will one day consume him. I've seen it near happen to the boy they did take in."

Oda's brow furrowed in concern. "I can agree; I share those thoughts exactly. Do you, by chance, know what happened to his sister?"

You gave a curt shake of your head, the movement causing the dim lights to dance across your features. "I know that the Port Mafia took her, however, I don't know what became of her."

Oda finished off the rest of the whiskey in his glass, the ice clinking softly as he set it before the bartender for a refill. "I see," he murmured, his voice tinged with disappointment.

A moment of contemplative silence fell between you, the ambient noise of the club fading into the background. You could feel Oda's gaze studying your face as you surveyed the array of guests for the evening, your eyes scanning the crowd with practiced ease.

"So, what happened with that?" Oda's question broke the silence, his hand gesturing towards his own lip and the side of his face.

"Oh," you replied, feigning ignorance about your appearance. You had attempted to cover the cut on your lip and the small bruise that had formed across your cheekbone from the night before. "Just an unruly guest. Unfortunate, and obviously for him, he didn't make it."

Oda hummed, a note of skepticism in his tone. It was clear he didn't fully believe the story you had fabricated. You huffed as you finished the rest of your glass, the warm liquid burning a path down your throat. Turning to him, you shifted the conversation once more. "What about your book? When will I be able to read the first draft?"

A soft smile graced Oda's features as he looked back down into his glass, swirling the amber liquid absently. "I've been having horrible writer's block. I know what I want to say, it's just getting it to paper that's the problem."

"Well," you gave a breathy chuckle, rising from your seat with fluid grace. His eyes met yours, a shared understanding passing between you. You both knew these encounters were rare and precious, a stark contrast to your shared youth. "You know where I'll be, ready to receive and critique. But to love it all the same."

"For the long wait, how about I dedicate it to you?" Oda offered, a hint of warmth in his voice.

You gave a warm smile, placing your hands upon your chest in dramatic adoration. The gesture was playful, but the emotion behind it was genuine. "Awe, Oda. You do care!"

Oda's head dipped down once more, his shoulders shaking with muffled laughter. You took a deep breath, the familiar ache of longing settling in your chest. More than anything, you wished you could embrace him, to feel the comfort of his brotherly affection that had been so freely given in your childhood. You knew deep down that he wished the same; on several occasions, he had forgotten the limitations of your ability, only to be reminded by Flawless.

"I have business I have to attend to, but you may stay as long as you like," you said, your voice softening with regret at having to cut the reunion short. You tapped the polished bar top twice, a silent signal to your bartender. He understood immediately, preparing your glass as well as a secondary pour of the whiskey you had been drinking.

Grasping the two crystal tumblers, the amber liquid catching the low light, you gave a final look to your dear friend. Your eyes lingered on his face, committing every detail to memory. "See you around, Odasaku," you said, the nickname slipping out unexpectedly.

Oda's eyebrows raised slightly, a quizzical look crossing his features at the unfamiliar moniker. You found yourself equally surprised, giving him a small shrug in response. The corner of his mouth tugged upward into a warm smile, and he raised his glass in a silent toast as you began to walk away.

Your heels clicked softly on the polished floor as you made your way back toward the staircase leading to your office. The weight of the glasses in your hands was a tangible reminder of the responsibilities waiting for you, pulling you away from this brief moment of connection. As you ascended the stairs, you could feel Oda's gaze following you, a bittersweet mixture of fondness and longing that mirrored your own emotions.

Dazai's keen eyes followed your figure as you made your way back up to your office. His gaze then darted to Oda, who was nodding to the bartender, offering thanks and sliding money across the polished bar top. A wry smile found its way onto Dazai's face as he admired Oda's persistence in compensating the man. He felt a familiar twinge of jealousy watching you two interact from afar, reminded of the bond you and Oda shared which transcended any version of yourselves.

Turning away from the window, Dazai met your gaze as you entered the office. The soft click of the door closing behind you seemed to punctuate the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"Thank you, Dimitri," you called out, your eyes never leaving Dazai's. He could tell by the set of your jaw that he was in trouble, especially noting the two crystal tumblers in your hands. You raised an eyebrow questioningly, holding up the glasses. "We've only reconnected for one night, and you decided to take it upon yourself to amend my liquor choices?"

Dazai suppressed a small laugh, gratefully accepting the offered glass. The crystal was cool against his fingers. "I only had Chūya go up to the bar and request a drink. When the bartender replied that you don't supply this brand, I had it ordered and shipped to you immediately."

He watched you roll your eyes, unamused but continuing to listen before objecting. The light from the desk lamp cast dramatic shadows across your face, emphasizing the slight furrow of your brow.

"What can I say? Something just told me I'd be back here sooner than expected, so I made a few liberties—"

"Liberties?" You scoffed, though there was a hint of amusement in your tone. You glided past him, the subtle scent of your perfume lingering in the air. Settling back into your chair, you continued, "You quite literally had my bartender stock something without my knowledge, most likely due to knowing it was the Port Mafia Boss's favorite."

Dazai savored the rich, smoky flavor of the whiskey as he took a long sip, a contented sigh escaping his lips. He gracefully lowered himself into one of the chairs facing your desk, his keen eyes noting how they seemed slightly out of place in the otherwise meticulously arranged office. During your absence, he had seized the opportunity to explore the room, his observant gaze catching details that others might overlook.

A rug, he deduced, had once adorned the space before your desk. Now, a faint square of fresh wood flooring, spanning no more than six feet, stood in stark contrast to the worn, darker planks surrounding it. At the center of this cleaned area, Dazai's sharp eyes detected a slightly darker outline. His mind, ever quick to analyze, immediately recognized the telltale signs of a bloodstain that had been hastily, if not entirely successfully, concealed. The discovery sent a small thrill through him.

"You enjoy the drink, too, don't lie. I saw you down there drinking it with Odasaku," Dazai said, his voice carrying a hint of familiarity he hadn't intended.

You gave Dazai a puzzled look, your brow furrowing slightly as you processed his words. He realized his slip immediately, watching as a flicker of confusion passed across your features. The usually composed demeanor he wore like armor had cracked, revealing an experience he hadn't been granted in this life.

"My apologies," he quickly corrected himself, his voice regaining its usual smooth rhythm. The words flowed like silk, masking his momentary lapse. "I had only heard you call him that a few times before you left. You always spoke fondly of the man who defected."

He observed intently as you silently began to question yourself, your hand reaching back to scratch your head in recollection of more than four years ago. The gesture was subtle, but to Dazai's keen eye, it spoke volumes about your inner turmoil. However, much to his relief, you quickly moved past the topic without dwelling on it further.

You set your drink down upon the polished surface of your desk, the crystal making a soft 'clink' against the wood. Clearing your throat, a confident smirk coated your peach-stained lips, the color a striking contrast against your skin in the warm light of the office.

"Besides the topic of my apparently new inventory," you said, emphasizing the word with a hint of playful accusation, "did you want to continue your losing game?"

Dazai chuckled, the sound low and rich. He leaned forward, the leather of the chair creaking slightly under his shifting weight. "I think you've forgotten, but I was winning."

A light laugh escaped you, the sound filling the room with a momentary lightness. "I had your queen for the taking. Without it, what even is the game?"

Dazai hummed thoughtfully, his mind racing through possibilities far beyond the chessboard. In his mind's eye, he saw not just chess pieces, but the intricate dance of allegiances and betrayals that defined their world. Indeed, his queen was cornered - both in the game and in life - but Dazai was nothing if not a master strategist. Just as you had been hasty to claim victory, he knew exactly how to turn the tides. His plan wasn't just to save a piece on a board, but to reclaim the Queen before him that he had lost to Fyodor's trickery.

His lips curled into a subtle, knowing smile. This game was far from over, and Dazai intended to win back what was rightfully his, piece by carefully manipulated piece. The anticipation built within him, not just for his next move in chess, but for the grand strategy that would bring you back to his side, away from Fyodor's influence.

Dazai's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Ah, but you've overlooked something crucial," he said, his voice smooth and confident. “It's my turn, remember? And with just one move, I'll not only save my queen but put you in a rather precarious position."

He set his glass down and leaned forward, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on the desk as if recreating the chessboard. "My knight to F6. It simultaneously blocks your attack on my queen and threatens your bishop. Now, you're faced with a dilemma – do you capture my knight and leave your bishop vulnerable, or do you retreat and lose your advantage?"

A sly smile played on his lips as he continued, "In chess, as in life, it's not just about the pieces you have, but how you use them. Sometimes, a seeming disadvantage can be turned into a powerful opportunity with the right strategy."

His eyes met yours, the intensity in them suggesting he might be talking about more than just the game. "So, shall we continue? I'm quite curious to see how you'll respond to this... unexpected development."

You leaned back in your chair, a mixture of amusement and respect flickering across your features. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you shook your head slightly, your eyes meeting Dazai's intense gaze.

"Well played, Dazai," you conceded, your voice carrying a note of admiration. "I should have known better than to underestimate you. Your knight to F6 is indeed a clever move."

You paused, your fingers drumming thoughtfully on the armrest as you visualized the board in your mind. After a moment, a sly smile crept onto your face. "However, you're not the only one with tricks up their sleeve. I'll move my rook to E4. It puts pressure on your knight and maintains the threat to your queen. Plus, it opens up a potential attack on your king's flank."

Leaning forward, you picked up your glass, and place it against your plump bottom lip. "In chess, as in our line of work, it's all about adapting to the unexpected, isn't it? One must always be prepared to shift strategies at a moment's notice."

You took a sip of the whiskey, savoring its rich flavor before continuing, "So, Dazai, what’s your move?"

Dazai's eyes narrowed slightly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he considered your move. "Interesting," he murmured, taking a thoughtful sip. “In that case, I'll move my bishop to D3, threatening your rook while maintaining defense of my queen.”

The game continued, each of you calling out moves, the imaginary board shifting in your minds with every declaration. The office fell into a rhythm of quiet contemplation broken by decisive statements, the clink of ice in glasses punctuating each turn.

"Knight to C6," you said, your voice steady.

"Pawn to A4," Dazai responded smoothly.

As the imaginary pieces dwindled, the tension in the room grew. Finally, after what felt like hours compressed into minutes, you both fell silent, a mutual realization dawning.

"Well," you said, a mix of frustration and admiration in your voice, "it seems we've reached an impasse."

Dazai nodded, his expression mirroring yours. "Indeed. By my count, we each have a king, a rook, and two pawns left. Neither of us can make a legal move without putting our king in check."

"Stalemate," you both said in unison, then shared a quiet laugh at the synchronicity. As your laughter died down, Dazai couldn’t help but admire you. While it seemed much had changed about you within the last four or so years, you were still sharp, quick on your feet, and though your encounter before last with one another within the confines of his penthouse was heated, it was as though it never happened.

Dazai raised his glass in a toast. "To a game well played. It's not often I encounter an opponent who can match me move for move. I’ve missed doing this with you."

You clinked your glass against his. "Likewise, Dazai. This was fun."

Dazai's intense gaze bore into your violet eyes, searching once again for a shred of the girl that once loved him. He knew you had to still harbor something, given your willingness to allow him into your office just one night after reconnecting, although you had resisted at first. A heavy sigh escaped your lips amid the charged silence, your eyes darting down to his lips. He mirrored the action, his tongue unconsciously brushing across his top lip.

In the days of your shared youth, the victor of these mental chess matches would be granted one request, no limits ever set. Trust and honesty were once pivotal, sacred even. But after touching The Book, everything changed.

Dazai watched intently as you shifted in your plush leather chair, leaning forward to examine the documents he had laid before you earlier. Your slender fingers opened the tan folder, eyes scanning its contents. Nervous anticipation built within him as he awaited your reaction.

A scoff broke the silence. It was somewhat expected.

"You want to buy The Midnight's Caress?" You looked up, an exaggerated eye roll accompanying your words.

"You're already paying us to leave you and your business be. I thought it would make more sense to annex your club since you already serve many mafiosos," Dazai explained, his voice smooth and persuasive.

Your eyes returned to the proposition. Dazai had been uncharacteristically considerate; you would remain owner, permitted to run the club as you saw fit, retaining eighty percent ownership.

"Ninety," you countered, your gaze drifting up from the paper. With practiced ease, you opened a drawer within your ornate desk, fingers grasping for a sleek box of cigarettes. The soft scrape of the box opening filled the quiet room as you extracted a single cigarette. The flick of your lighter cast a brief, warm glow across your features as you lit it. You inhaled deeply, the ember glowing bright orange in the dim office. Exhaling a plume of smoke, you placed the cigarette delicately between your index and middle fingers before uttering your next argument. "Giving you twenty percent would be grossly over what I already give you, which I've already been quite generous with."

Dazai raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. Given the club's popularity and the financial records he'd meticulously reviewed, he'd calculated that twenty percent ownership would be a small sacrifice. Yet, he'd anticipated some resistance from you.

You held the box out to him, one cigarette poking out invitingly. He leaned forward, long fingers grasping the rolled tobacco. Rising smoothly, he placed the cigarette between his lips. Leaning over your desk, he pressed his unlit cigarette to yours. His eyes, intense and searching, locked with yours as he contemplated his counter.

"Giving twenty percent would include more than just protection, Bella," Dazai remarked, his voice low and smooth as he relaxed back into the chair.

You laced your fingers together, resting your elbows on the polished desk. Your eyes fluttered, the lit cigarette dangling slightly between your lips. "How much are you assuming I'm already giving for this protection?"

“I calculated that it was around twenty percent now.”

A laugh escaped your occupied lips, followed by a click of your tongue. "Twenty? Oh, moye temnoye zhelaniye, I give you way less than that."

Dazai jerked his head back in surprise, questions flooding his mind. How much did you actually give of your earnings? The only logical explanation was the records he had did not contain unreported earnings. Additionally, when did you learn to speak Russian? He had no idea what the phrase meant, but curiosity burned within him.

He watched, transfixed, as you rose from your seat with fluid grace. The soft rustle of your clothing seemed amplified in the hushed office; his senses hyper-aware of your every movement. He tracked your progress as you rounded the desk, his heart rate quickening with each step you took towards him.

When you perched upon the edge of the desk directly in front of him, Dazai felt a rush of heat betray him, crawling up his cheeks in a flush he couldn't quite control. He found himself looking up at you through his eyelashes, acutely aware of the power dynamic shift. The dim light of the office played across your features, casting shadows that accentuated the curves and angles of your face. Dazai's breath caught in his throat as he drank in the sight of you, commanding and alluring in equal measure.

He watched, mesmerized, as you took another leisurely puff from your cigarette. The ember glowed bright for a moment, illuminating your face in a warm, fleeting light that seared itself into his memory. With practiced ease, you blew the smoke out above you, creating a swirling haze that danced in the air between you. The sharp scent of tobacco mingled with your personal fragrance, an intoxicating mixture that seemed to cloud his senses.

As Dazai gazed up at you, he found himself making a silent vow. He would let you have anything you wanted - any percentage, any terms. All that mattered was that you allowed him to remain in your presence, to bask in the captivating aura you exuded.

"I give ten percent of my yearly earnings to you now, Dazai. You're basically asking I near triple that in my eyes, as it's not only money; it's ownership." Your voice carried a hint of steel beneath its smoothness, a reminder of the strength that had always drawn Dazai to you.

Dazai stood to meet your gaze, his movement fluid and deliberate. Your eyes darted from his visible eye down to his lips again as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Seventeen then.” The words hung in the air between you, charged with unspoken tension.

"You're good at a lot of things, Osamu, negotiating is apparently not one of them." You leaned further in, your breath warm against his skin.

He took a moment, relishing the closeness that you'd allowed once again. However, his keen eye caught sight of a cut upon your bottom lip and faint evidence of a bruise upon your cheekbone, which you had evidently tried to cover, which wasn't there the night before. He saw your eyes widen slightly, likely realizing he'd noticed the wounds marring your features. Before he could question you, you spoke again.

"I own the entire property as of right now. I even live upstairs." You took the cigarette from your mouth, gesturing with your fingers toward the area outside the office. Osamu recalled the elevator he'd noticed across from your office doors. That explained its presence. "You might as well buy the whole building, since it seems you're trying to buy me back into the mafia."

Osamu passively heard you, however, he couldn’t bring himself to reply to you just yet. His mind wouldn’t move past the subtle signs of abuse on your face. The cut on your lip, the faint bruise on your cheekbone - they weren't there last night. His heart clenched painfully in his chest, a mixture of worry and rage threatening to overwhelm him.

He reached out instinctively, his hand hovering near your face but not quite touching. He remembered how you used to flinch in worry of touching others, but you remained still, even slightly leaning toward his touch.

Finally, his voice whispered your name out, softer than he intended, "This isn't about buying you back into anything. Do you really think I'd try to manipulate you into a life you chose to leave?"

He watched your eyes, those stormy violet orbs that had once looked at him with such trust and affection. Now they seemed guarded, wary. It pained him more than he cared to admit.

"I respect your decisions," he continued, "even if I don't always agree with them. But those marks on your face, cara mia… they weren't there last night."

Osamu felt his hand clench at his side, anger surging through him at the thought of Fyodor laying a hand on you. He fought to keep his voice steady. "This isn't about ownership or percentages. It's about keeping you safe from a man who clearly doesn't value you the way he should. The way you deserve."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within him. He needed you to understand, to see beyond the business proposition to the genuine concern that drove his actions. Fyodor, in this life and every other, was not a man to be trusted, let alone be married to.

"I won’t ask you again to come back to the mafia. All I'm asking, is for you to let me protect you. Because right now, your independence is coming at a cost that's far too high."

Osamu’s unbandaged eye searched yours, silently pleading. He saw a flicker of something - vulnerability, perhaps - behind your carefully constructed walls. It gave him hope.

"Let me help you," he said softly. "Please."

In that moment, looking into your eyes, Osamu realized just how much he still cared for you; it was overwhelming. The thought of you in pain, of Fyodor hurting you, was unbearable. He knew he'd do whatever it took to keep you safe, even if it meant putting himself, his plans, in danger. Because despite everything that had happened, you were still one of the most important people in his world.

Osamu watched as your eyes widened slightly at his words, a mix of emotions flickering across your face. For a moment, your carefully constructed facade seemed to waver, revealing a glimpse of the vulnerability he once knew so well.

His breath caught as you reached up, your fingers gently brushing against his hand that hovered near your face. The touch was electric, sending a shiver through him. Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper when you spoke.

"Osamu... it's not that simple."

He held his breath, hoping for more, but you seemed to steel yourself before continuing. "I appreciate your concern, truly. But my life, my choices... they're complicated. More than you know."

Osamu felt a pang in his chest as you slid off the desk, putting a small distance between you. The internal struggle playing out in your eyes was painfully clear to him.

"Ten percent, if you buy the entire building," you said suddenly, your voice regaining its businesslike tone. "That's my final offer. And I maintain full operational control."

The abrupt shift back to business threw him for a moment, but he quickly recovered. He recognized your deflection for what it was - a shield, a way to avoid the deeper conversation you both knew you needed to have.

"Agreed," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "But this conversation isn't over. I won't stand by and watch you get hurt, no matter how complicated things are."

You nodded, a small, sad smile playing on your lips. "I know you won't. That's what makes you... you."

As you moved to return to your seat, Osamu caught the briefest flash of something in your eyes. Was it longing? Regret? Or perhaps something more calculating? He couldn't be sure, and it frustrated him. There was a time when he could read you like an open book, but now... now parts of you were a mystery to him.

Watching you settle back into your chair, Osamu began to feel a sharp pang of guilt. He knew he was being selfish, pursuing you when his time in this world was limited. The weight of his secrets - the truth about the Book and his inevitable fate - pressed heavily upon him. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to tell you, it would cost too much. Instead, he made a silent vow to protect you from Fyodor and his plans, and, if possible, win back your trust and affection, even if it was only for a brief moment in time.

As he gazed at you across the desk, Osamu felt a familiar warmth in his chest, accompanied by a sharp ache. Despite everything, despite the years and the pain and the complications, you were still one of the most important people in his world. And he would do whatever it took to keep you safe, even if it meant putting himself, his plans, in danger.

"With that matter settled," you said, a smile reappearing on your face as you extinguished your cigarette. "Would you like to try another game of chess? I'd understand if you say no, as assuredly going to win this time."

A rich laugh escaped through Osamu’s lips. "I'd like to see you try," he responded, his eyes gleaming with challenge and amusement.

The game was on, and Osamu intended to win.

previous part ~ next part | LBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

Author Chat: This part took a lot out of me. Again, I had intended it to be much darker, as I see so many write Fyodor as this sweet, quiet man who's tenderly loving his s/o, but I was like "but what if...?" So, that's partly where the inspiration came from, because let's be honest, that man is dark and twisted (you know the looks like a cinnamon roll, will actually kill you).

If you liked, feel free to like and reblog <3 ~DamzelZelda

Song Inspos: Rule #34- Fish in a Birdcage Watch- billie eilish

Russian Word "Dictionary" (Curtesy of [unreliable] Google translate):

moya lyubov': "my love"

moya zhena: "my wife"

moy dorogoy: "my dear"

malen'kaya mysh': "little mouse"

lyubyashchaya: "loving"

budto: "as if"

chudesnyy: "marvelous"

ty lisitsa: "you vixen"

Takaya khoroshaya devochka: "such a good girl"

Ochen' khorosho: "very well"

moy angel smerti: "my angel of death"

moye temnoye zhelaniye: "my dark desire"

#bsd #bsd x reader #bsd x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #dazai x y/n #bsd dazai #beast dazai x reader #fydor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor #bsd fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor smut #bsd smut

118 notes · View notes

endless-ineffabilities · 2 years ago

Text

Lavender Haze

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

An imagine loosely based on the song Lavender Haze of off Midnights by Taylor Swift ▪︎ read more Daemon & Aemond midnights imagines here: masterlist

themes: incest (uncle/niece - aged 18+), soft smut, fluff, Aemond as a lover (which, in one word, is perfect)

written for anon request: reader is the youngest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon. Aemond and she have a secret affair. Aemond goes to her room one night and sees her while she is taking a bath.

word count: 1.1k

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

If anyone were to ask Aemond what his favourite scent is, he probably would not be able to give a direct response. How could he, without going into detail about you?

A detail, such as, the distinct contrasting lushness and subtlety of lavender on your skin.

A welcome assault to his senses when he licks a stripe on your neck, during the nights you spend wrapped around each other.

Or, a tantalizing urge to abandon secrecy when you sit next to him during supper, when you lean closer, you little minx, and he breathes you in.

Either, or. Aemond loves it, wishes to bathe himself in it, wishes to rub his skin on yours until he can walk away smelling of you.

His sweet, little lavender-scented niece, he once teased. Only his. It matters not that he cannot flaunt you to the world, as much as he aches to pull you close and kiss you everywhere. Impropriety be damned.

But this sense of danger, of tasting the forbidden fruit, also drove him wild.

How it all started, you merely confronted your uncle Aemond, demanding that he cease his taunting of your brother Lucerys.

"I did not think that you lost your astuteness along with your eye. That was an accident, from much too long ago, and Luke has only tried to make amends. You must not give him any more grief or call him names. This hostility is unnecessary, uncle."

"Are you ordering me to do so, little niece?" His velvety voice raised goosebumps along your arm, your body unable to hide your attraction to him.

"If need be, then yes, I order you." You try not to croak, as he saunters over to you, his gait so fluid as if he was walking on air.

He stands ever so close, tracing his fingertip along your jawline, "Hmm, very well. But I shall have something in return."

You swallow, wishing him to finally say the words.

He did. And so it began.

It used to be one chosen night, once in a blue moon, which grew into two, three. You have learned to welcome his visits more often, awaiting him when the castle slumbers. When your daylight hours of longing stares, hidden caresses, and lewd whispers all culminate in the hour of the owl.

Aemond finds himself smiling as he walks to your chambers. He can't help it; he's enamoured with you. You might not be completely aware of the hold you have on him, but it is undeniable. You can bring that boy to heel with a single snap of your fingers.

The two of you made an arrangement with Ser Erryk to redirect the guards posted at your door when necessary. Aemond has no trouble reaching it. He takes a deep breath, then pushes your door open. It barely makes any sound.

Slowly, and then all at once, his senses are assaulted by that scent. Lavender, and long-lost innocence, and perfection. The one he should not have, should not touch, but still does.

Aemond's heart is yours.

He assumes that you did not hear him enter, but you did. Your ears have learned to detect his foxlike movements. Most would not know that Aemond has appeared until their eyes finally drink him in, your silver-haired prince moving light as a breeze. And their eyes usually linger. After all, Aemond looks as if he was shaped out of a bard's sweetest song.

You sit in a large porcelain tub, having drawn up a bath. The once warm water has turned tepid, but you stay, enjoying the scent of lavender from your bath tablet, which transformed the water into a shade of violet not unlike your Targaryen eyes.

The boudoir is in the right corner of your chambers, partially covered by a translucent screen. He sees your silhouette reflected by the warm candlelight, and he stands there, taking it all in.

His steps are light as he approaches, hands gently furled at his sides aching to reach your skin. He materializes in your vision, his violet eye shamelessly running over you.

“Uncle,” you greet in a singsong voice, smirking, “what brings you here at such a late hour?”

“Hmm,” he purrs, his pupil dilating, desire blossoming. He runs his tongue over his lips, and bites his lip. “Do you normally take baths this late, dear niece?”

“Perhaps,” you run your fingertips across your collarbones, drawing his attention. Your figure disappears in a pool of violet foam, but he can distinguish your nipples peeking from the surface.

“Might this simply be a show for me?” he moves even closer, and with one smooth movement, he peels his eyepatch from his head, setting it down atop your carelessly discarded clothing on the seat.

“Oh, you know me so well,” you tilt your head, and he ponders how you can make such a small movement seem so damn provocative. So beautiful.

You sit upright, revealing more of your body to him. You reach a hand out, and he brings it to his lips, keeping his eyes on yours.

“I have something for you, uncle,” you gently pull his hand, slowly, and the two of you watch it disappear under the violet-tinged water. His sleeves become soaked through, but he pays it no mind. There is only you. His darling niece. His lover. His very own silver-haired lavender haze.

“Have I ever told you just how heavenly you are?” he muses, as he moves his arm, knowingly searching the depths for the sweet sensation of your skin. Of your warmth. His fingers reach your nub, pressing gently, driving you mad.

“Aemond,” you whisper, “I want you.”

He leans close, your noses almost touching. “Oh, my pet. What would your mother and father think?” He enjoys this, and he is aware that you do as well.

Aemond has always been reserved, his passions held close to his chest. But if he had to protect this illicit affair from the entire world, he would. His mother’s disapproval. His brother’s heedless taunting. Even your father Daemon, and that surely means something.

“They would…” you pretend to be deep in thought, “probably take your one good eye.”

“Oh, yes.” His fingers resume in movement.

“Have me immediately married off to some Lord, just to save me from you.”

“Surely.” Lightly stroking, increasing the pace.

“And what would you do then?” you lean back, resting your head on the edge of the tub.

“Whatever you wish. Whatever you ask me to.” A truth that need not be spoken. A promise bound by blood and fire and love.

“My sa…pphire.” Your voice shakes as his finger enters you.

His heart sings as he watches you unfold, writhing underneath the water.

If anyone were to ask Aemond what his favourite sight is, he probably would not be able to give a direct response. How could he, without revealing that he is absolutely, irrevocably, in love with you?

💜💜💜

I'm aware that the song Lavender Haze is not about something as shallow as the colour of bathwater or a scent, but the theme matches the plot so... 🤷‍♀️

Incest is only semi-tolerated if you are a Targaryen living in the fantasy land of A Song of Ice and Fire (apparently) so for gods' sake dear readers, do not ever even consider this in reality. 😂

Aemond/General HotD taglist: @aemcndtargaryen @cryztalline @fairaardirascenarios @blackravena @vensidia @xinyourdreamsx @mrswhitethornbelikov @mikariell95 @thermiting @witchofthenorthstar @m00n5t0n3 @booknerd2004 @throughgoeshamilton @xcallmetaniax @wrendermeuseless @m-indkiller @graykageyama @nsainmoonchild @immyowndefender @moonmaiden1996 @caspianobsessed @wrendermeuseless @schniiipsel @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @random-human02 @icarusignite @flourishandblotts-inc @siriusdumblittlepuppy @just-a-harmless-patato @moni-cah @boofy1998 @huntycola @angel6776 @sanguinalia @thelastcitysposts @daeneeryss @wondergal2001 @huntycola @blackravena @vyctorya

#aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #midnights #ewan mitchell

775 notes · View notes

max1461 · 9 months ago

Text

Ok well. whats so wrong with writing in an elegant boudoir with violet colored ink and a ruby pen

28 notes · View notes

land-of-candy · 1 month ago

Text

Hours of the Day in the Kingdom of Candy

The life of a citizen of the Kingdom of Candy is marked by the passing of its daily clock, and the gentile lady is no exception. Her comportment, her dress, and her activities are all dictated by the necessities of her oft busy schedule. On the coasts of the Port of Taffy or in the candy capital of Cornetto, our lady begins her days at the gentle toll of a nine o'clock bell.

[Meringue Cookie Person]

Our lady slowly rises, turning to her toilette and morning rituals. She may remain in a state of half dress for an hour or more on a calm day, taking her time selecting her outfits for the day or conferring with her servants. Diaphanous candy cottons from the Chocorock commonwealth or pre-softened wools from sugar floss sheep from the Licorice Duchy are popular for these types of morning garments.

[Peppermint Elf in Strawberry Day Frock]

After some time in her boudoir, our lady will dress herself in sensible daily clothes. She will need an ensemble to carry her through her morning of writing letters, balancing the ledgers of her estate, and planning social events or the possible early day social call. Gloves and long sleeves are forwent to avoid ink stains during the busiest period of our lady's day. These clothes prioritize comfort for the wearer.

[Left: Black Sesame Mushipan Cookie Person, Right: Turrón Ice Cream Half Elf]

The devout lady may instead opt to visit the Temple of Sucrose during in the morning and one can expect to see no fewer than 10 carriages at any time in the capital city's temple on a day with fine weather. Though Sucrose mandates a life of temperance and charity, the clever and affluent lady has found cleverly subtle ways to assert her status and wealth. Plain cloth is most popular here, in darker and natural colors but a lady may find a lovely statement shawl or wrap to pair with her dress, echoing the styles of the temple clerics.

In the north, noble ladies will pay young servants or town girls to bring them fresh flowers in the morning before their visits to adorn their hair. Ladies have made the case that flowers are an honest and simple accessory, suitable for the Temple, but anyone who has seen peasant girls scamper into the meadows to find buttercups or violets knows that the economy of flowers is hardly either.

At the southern coasts, the mantilla cone is the popular accessory. This molded piece of decorative waffle cone is tucked into the hair of a lady's arranged hair and draped with a translucent scarf.

[Lemon Meringue Pie Cookie Person with Half-Sour Cambion Lemon Drop Daughter]

By this time, the clock has well chimed one and our lady has had lunch. The afternoon marks the leisure hours of our Lady's day and can be spent on various past times. Our lady may embark on a promenade in town, to visit shops or fulfill other public activities. She takes extra care in her appearance on these excursions as this is when she is most in the public eye. The fashionable silhouette requires a domed skirt and large puffed sleeves popularized by her Highness, the younger Princess Lollitina.

Children's fashion oft mimics their adult counterparts but with considerations for the more active and vivacious nature of their age. Cupcake skirts of a domed top and wrapper underlayer are especially popular these days.

[Peppermint Elf in Apple Tart Ensemble]

One visiting the manor of our lady may be forgiven for mistaking a lady at tea with that of the lady on excursion. No other time is given so much private attention within the home as Afternoon Tea, a highly exclusive and cultivated event and the single most crucial social event of our lady's day.

Tea parties mark the war ground of a social lady's day to day encounters, a place where she may rise to the top of her social circle or fall behind. Hosting tea places you a the center of the volatile salon of nobles and our lady takes great care arranging the menu, the decorations and her own attire. It is unquestionably when our lady is dressed most ornately, barring balls or court appearances. Clever execution of finery and cutting edge fashion may be just the step needed to advance her station.

[Milk Chocolate Cookie Person in Raspberry and White Chocolate Court Dress]

Finally, our lady may, on special occasions, be called to the court of His Majesty, King Candy. An occasion calls for a special ensemble, a court dress, which meets the gravity of this appearance.

Stiffened conical bodices of yesteryear mix with the fashionable domed skirt and voluminous sleeves of today. The expense of fabrics for such a garment can not be overstated. Rare fabrics like dragon's beard satin or Black Cherry spider silk are imported in whatever quantities can be afforded. A baron or count could expect to spend almost a year's worth of their income on a conservatively designed court dress.

[Peppermint Elf in Spearmint Ballgown]

By eight in the evening, our lady has returned home for a light dinner and might be preparing for one final outing. Dressing for balls is treated with a similar level of care to court visits but for different reasons. A ball might be a young lady's best chance to meet a partner and arrange social exchanges. A ballgown is most popularly styled with a wide necked or off shoulder bodice to show off the decolletage.

Enterprising young ladies have even developed a secret language of dress so subtle that those of the commonwealth would be none the wiser without being told. While the popular style of dress is that of the domed and fully rounded crinoline supported by a hooped under-structure, a young lady in search of a partner of the same persuasion may adopt an elliptical shape to their own dress. This invention rose out of necessity as two fair lady dancers both in round crinolines would push each others dresses out like a pair of bells tolling. Such circumstances revealed more of these ladies than desired and led to quick changes in style to accommodate the modesty of the bashful lady dancer. Such changes in style have rendered the preferences of a dancer visible to the eye without conversation, sparing the eager bachelor an otherwise embarrassing proposal.

By this time, the clock is well past ten in the evening, and our lady is likely to dance long into the night returning home as late as three in the morning.

#candyland #elf #digital art #fantasy prose #historical fantasy #world building #kingdom of candy

9 notes · View notes

abbatoirablaze · 9 months ago

Text

Behind Closed Doors, Chapter 1

Word Count:2k

Warnings: some cursing.

“So what I’m hearing is you made a mistake?”

Sebastian growled as he tried to keep from throwing his cell phone at the wall, “I didn’t make a mistake, Petashnik. My manager did. I’m calling you because I want you to fix it. Tonight is a big night, and I want it to go perfectly.”

“Sounds like you need to shake things up with your manager then, Stan. Not me,” the man on the other line said apathetically, “I understand that you may be having a big night, but I’m not the man that caused the problem. I’m the man trying to offer you a solution.”

“Trust me,” Sebastian growled through the phone, “Marty is done with me. I’ve decided that I’m going to personally see this through.”

“So then…what can I do for you?” he reiterated, asking the question once again, “you’ve got a girl for tonight, so you do have a date, correct? She showed up to your apartment?”

“The girl…the one that I actually wanted…I want her…not…this girl that showed up at my apartment.” He frowned as he looked over to who was supposed to be his date for the evening to the party. She was sucking in her cheeks, and giving him a dissatisfied look in response. He frowned and held a hand up, “no offense. I’m sure you’re wonderful. I just-hadn’t picked you, so I-”

“If she’s wonderful, then what’s the problem, Stan?” Petashnik asked, cutting the actor off as he tired listening to his complaints.

“She’s not the girl I chose.”

“And who did you choose?”

“Excuse me?”

“What girl were you meaning to pick before your manager fucked it up?” the inpatient man repeated, “What was the number on her headshot? I don’t mean to be blunt, but our call is nearing a half-hour and you’ve yet to tell me who it actually is, when she might be on call. If it’s a simple mistake like that, then we can switch out the girls.”

Sebastian’s eyes lit up, “Really?”

“Really. What is the number on the back of the shots we sent you? I take it you still have her shots. Most of the men like to keep the ones they pick so that they can…compare.”

Sebastian stalked over to his counter where surely enough, the boudoir photo of you sat. Flipping it over he repeated the ID number on the back.

There was a moment of silence on the other end and Sebastian could hear the clicking of something being typed into a computer, before the guy sighed on the other end, “Sorry, kid. She was booked tonight as well. She’s not available.”

“Well then why did you send out her picture?”

“Actually…looks like late last night we had a gentleman come in and signed her for a short-term contract…PR relationship deal. You know how it goes. She’s not going to be available for twelve to fourteen months, that is if you’re still as interested as you were initially. You’ll have to wait at a shot for her.”

“TWELVE TO FOURTEEN MONTHS?” Sebastian yelled, “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ELROY?”

“Some actor shooting up in the ranks needs a serious relationship to show that he’s not just some East Coast party boy…sorry, Stan. She was signed late last night after your manager already turned in the request for Violet.”

“SON OF A BITCH!” he growled, his hand slamming down on the counter while his mind ran at lightspeed, “what’s the actor’s name? Maybe I cou-“

“It doesn’t work like that, Stan,” Elroy chuckled from his end of the line, “she signed the contract agreeing to the PR relationship, and we don’t just give that information out. Paying customer or not. Looks like you’ll just have to keep an eye on the tabloids and track her down on your own dime if you’re that serious about the girl.”

“God damn it…” he hissed.

“Need anything else?” he asked, “still got time before your party! Did you want me to send over a different girl?”

“No…” he grumbled, “I don’t have time to get to know another one…”

“So how did the two of you meet again?”

Sebastian felt his breath catching in his throat the second he saw you. Your melodic laugh had him drawn even closer, ignoring the date he’d brought with him.

Sure, it was a short-list preliminary party for men and women who were considered for the Marvel films slated for a few years from now, but he couldn’t believe his luck when he saw you on the arm of one of the other guys.

“Well, I was at a café…and Chris just happened to be there-“

“Did you ask for an autograph?” another of the men asked, cutting in.

“Actually…I accidentally took her drink,” Chris lied, a blush rising on his cheeks as he looked at you, “she was there studying for one of her midterms and I grabbed her drink…”

“He was hungover from a party the previous night, so he didn’t think twice when he’d barely paid and they called the drink order. I guess he thought that they were just giving him he celebrity treatment because they recognized him from a previous film,” you said playfully as you leaned into him, “and apparently, he didn’t hear it when they called my name at the end of the drink order, either.”

“In all fairness, what are the odds that two people got that drink?” he asked, adding his own laughter in as his arm looped around your waist, pulling you even closer to his side, “I’ll have you guys know that it was a very particular order…I wasn’t just being a douche, grabbing the first drink I saw!”

“Our names sound nothing alike!” you accused, “and I get mine with cinnamon sprinkled on top…god your face was amazing when you tasted it. You looked appalled that someone would get cinnamon on it.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but feel drawn to you as you giggled again, eyes never leaving Chris’.

“A more romantic person would have called it fate!” Chris teased, nudging, “fate intervening and pushing us together.”

“You two are cute, I’ll give you that!” Another actor, Mark Ruffalo, had smiled as his own arm held firm on his wife’s waist.

“So…what happened from there?” his wife asked curiously.

“I not so nicely asked him how my drink tasted, to which the barista apologized and began to remake it, while Mr. Doe eyes here tried to play innocent, acting like he’d had no idea that he’d just chugged half of my drink down.”

“I was!”

“Long story short he tried to play the actor card, and I told him that I didn’t know who he was.”

“I still think you were trying to knock my ego down a peg…” he shrugged, “I mean…come on everyone’s seen Fantastic Four…”

“You know darn well I saw Not Another Teen Movie…Mr. Wyler!” you teased playfully. A blush rose to his cheeks, like there was some inside joke between the two of you, and it made Sebastian’s blood boil as you leaned in and brushed his cheek before leaning against him, “Worked, didn’t it?”

He smirked and pressed a kiss to your temple, and Sebastian frowned. The two of you seemed to have a very easy connection, and he found himself wondering if it would have been the same with him if he’d gotten to you first.

“You two are too cute!” Marks wife commented, softly, leaning against her own husband.

“You’re giving us too much credit!”

“No, really…things don’t happen like that anymore!” Mark commented with his own smile, “its…refreshing.”

Chris gave them both a polite smile, but it was you that spoke as you gently pointed across the room, “babe…isn’t that your friend, Scarlett? I thought you said she was going to pass on the Marvel stuff?”

“So it is,” he commented, his brow furrowing as he turned his attention back to Mark and his wife, “ I’m sorry to ask this, but do you mind if we cut out and say hi to Scarlett? I haven’t seen her in months.”

The people that they’d been in a conversation with were perfectly okay with the two of you leaving it, and so you made a polite and curt goodbye before following Chris along to another group, threading seamlessly through the people.

“Are you sure you even want me here?”

Sebastian’s gaze shifted to the woman that he’d been with for the past few hours, and he shrugged to himself, her presence not entirely mattering in the slightest to him, “do you want to be here?”

The two shared a look and she frowned, “I saw one of my regulars in the other room…he’s probably upset that I took another booking-“

“Go…but tell Elroy I’m not paying for the night.”

She shrugged, making her way away from him and he frowned to himself. Taking out his phone his frown only deepened when he thought about how much longer he’d have to plaster on a smile and work the room before he could slink back to his apartment alone; thoughts of you on his mind.

“Twelve to fourteen months!” he muttered to himself as he shook his head.

“Those things will kill you, you know…”

Sebastian nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the door closing behind him. You took a few steps towards the balcony and leaned against the railing, looking out into the open air.

“You look like you could use one…” he said softly, “know it can’t be easy lying like that in there…”

You frowned as you gave him a look, “e-excuse me?”

“You and Evans,” he chuckled, taking another drag before blowing the smoke away from the two of you, “I know he went to the company…you were in a lineup of available girls yesterday…”

“I saw you with Violet…” you uttered softly, “Before she started hanging around a director…did she ditch you? I-I could mention it to Mr. Petas-”

“Didn’t care for her company,” he said with a shrug as he cut you off, “I was supposed to have a different girl…my manager screwed up the order.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, flicking the butt over the edge, “tried to rectify it myself…but when I called today…you weren’t available anymore.”

“Oh…” Your eyes widened ever so slightly as you looked at him, the realization that he had wanted to order you crossing your features, “y-you wanted to book me?”

He leant against the rail and nodded, not feeling confident to look at you any longer, “Yeah…but Elroy said that you’re going to be booked for the next twelve to fourteen months…so it doesn’t look like I’ll get to enjoy your company any time soon…”

“Oh…uh, yeah…Chris and I-“

“I know what it is…” he chuckled, “PR relationships happen all the time in our business, sweetheart. Just uh-you know…if you are interested, after it’s all said and done…you should give me a call…”

“I-It’s not just a PR relationship,” you admitted softly, not daring to look at him either as you thought about the details of the contract that you had signed, “Chris…he wants to settle down…have kids…a wife…he uh-his manager explained it all to me when they sat me down last night to go over the contract. I-I’ll be staying with him…and I’m with him. We’re a couple.”

Sebastian’s eyes snapped to yours his brow raising, “What? Elroy said-“

“Twelve months is the time frame Chris set as a minimum…if nothing happens after fourteen months then we can readjust and see if we want to continue,” you admitted softly, “he-he wants to start trying immediately though. So he-“

“You’re a high-profile escort. You don’t have kids with the client. There’s not a contract for that sort of thing.”

“There is though…”You laughed, shaking your head at him, “it’s called a Behind Closed Doors contract…and it means just that. The PR relationship is just a part of it…but I’m obligated to get to know him…just as he is with me…I won’t be available in twelve to fourteen months…if uh-things go well, I won’t be returning to the company. I’m going to be with Chris…the contract signing was last night, but that was also the night of the final interview, where he chose between me and Violet. I’m sorry Elroy gave you the wrong information, Mr. Stan.”

Chapter 2

#behind closed doors #chris evans #sebastian stan

19 notes · View notes

mrfancyfoot · 4 months ago

Text

Raphael x Evie (f!OC)

Fic Rating: E/Varied | Chapter 1: AO3 + Tumblr | Master List

Chapter 16: (Blood)lust Pt.2 "Raphael interrupts Haarlep’s scheme of sabotage and then has to figure out what to do with a very angry fox."

< Previous Chapter: Ch. 15 (Blood)lust Pt.1 | Next Chapter: Ch. 17 Violet* >

I HC that when Haarlep has someone’s form, there’s a mutual ability for both parties to be able to feel echoes of varying degrees of sensations, most notably pleasure and pain. The stronger the sensation, the more the other can feel it, but it will never be like they are experiencing it themself.

❤️ Thanks for reading! :3 ❤️

Please mind the tags/warnings!

Ch. Rating: E / NSFW Ch. Word Count: ~1.1k Ch. Tags: POV Raphael; Unexpected Frenzied Bloodlust Reaction to an Aphrodisiac Ch. Warnings: Haarlep; Implied Sexual Assault (non-consensual touching and kissing - carried over from events of Pt.1); After Effects of Non-Con Drugging/Aphrodisiac (Incubus Venom); Restraints (carried over from events of Pt.1); Blood/Injury; Sleep Spell

Read under the cut or on AO3-

Haarlep’s moments of growing and abating arousal were nothing unusual to brush off.

His writing paused when there came taps and pricks against his chest and a roaming pressure against his mouth and tongue. They were with someone…

After what could only be the phantom pinch of fangs clipping his lip and then tearing into his hand so deeply that the sensation of pain crossed over to him, Raphael shot up from his desk in a fury, his intuition warning him that something was awry. Did they-? A flash later, he was in the boudoir-

-looking down upon a scene he would never have anticipated.

Evie had been chained to the headboard and Haarlep's head was between her legs…being strangled by her thighs.

He felt the ghost of pressure around his own throat and their hitches of breath while Haarlep struggled to free themself, their claws carving into her and leaving behind welts and deep streaks of blood that beaded and welled to drip and soak the sheets below.

The incubus managed to pry her grip and flung themself backwards from the bed, stumbling to the ground gracelessly - but not before the fox’s claws raked their flank in a wayward kick.

The yowl that came out of the fox while she twisted and pulled at her bindings promised murder should she break free.

Beautifully ferocious screams of a trapped fox gone completely feral.

Raphael grinned at Haarlep, malicious and sharp. His hand waved down the visage of the toppled incubus. “I should allow her the privilege of killing you for so deliberately disobeying me,” his voice sunk to a hiss through his clenched teeth as his hands tensed with the strain of holding himself back.

Raphael did not miss the flash of uncertainty from Haarlep before they hopped to their feet and slunk into an attempt to play up their charms that were not going to work this time - not while he was so enraged over their malignant scheming.

They approached with swaying hips and hands splayed disarmingly as they put on a gleeful facade and echoed his gesture at the thrashing fox. “It would seem my venom manifests as blood lust in this little hellhound. A thrilling surprise! Master, we can-”

His hand shot out, wrapping his claws around their neck and squeezing to cut them off before they could start spinning excuses and pleas.

They would not weasel their way out of this.

“Out of my sight!”

With a snap, the incubus was gone - bound in the dungeons to deal with later.

As much as he would prefer to extract the price of their indiscretions immediately.

With a huff, he rolled his head to the fox, still trying to free herself from the cuffs that rubbed her wrists bloody and appearing about to gnaw at her own flesh and bones to free herself. “How far gone are you?” he asked rhetorically. As expected, he received no reply but incoherent, beastly snarls that he was in no mood to analyze.

For what they had been attempting to achieve - compliance compelled by heightened arousal from someone reluctant to submit to their will - Haarlep had gone overboard for any frenzy to be this extreme. Their venom inflamed arousals that were already present - be they of lust, greed, gluttony, wrath… For a stubborn fox that they failed to seduce at all, this was the most likely outcome. They well knew this and yet still took the risk, then hoping he conveniently forgot that knowledge amidst this fallout. Just as he had not until mere hours ago, Haarlep may not have known the extent to which they had already earned her ire.

With a sneer and barely controlled wrath, Raphael spied more of her crimson blood painting her belly from where the incubus had clawed at her to get away. Its scent was provoking him. From his own hand, he may have taken pleasure in the sight, but being spilled by another’s - explicitly against his orders - colored his vision red.

The torn and messy gash across Haarlep’s hand was no doubt the cause of the blood smeared across her mouth and face. He felt a flash of pride.

The incubus had underestimated her resistance and fighting spirit.

And he had underestimated Haarlep’s drive to interfere.

His mind whirled to account for all possible outcomes.

He may not yet own her soul but the fox was within his care at present by virtue of his own invitation.

Had she been a willing lover of Haarlep’s, this may have played out differently. However, there was little that he could do on the matter until she was coherent once more.

Plan determined, Raphael strode to the bed and half-knelt upon its edge to reach out, pressing his fingers to her forehead. It took a much stronger sleep spell than expected to overcome the frenzy caused by the venom, but at last she was still.

He gently ran his knuckles down her cheek.

He would have control.

There would be order!

She was released from the cuffs, cleansed, and healed. He tucked her between fresh linens.

A mockery of how he imagined her first in his bed.

It would be some time before the venom and sleep spell wore off on their own. He had eyed the drawer containing a vial of incubus anti-venom countless times - force it down her throat, wake her up, send her on her way - however, there was a need to ensure Haarlep had not irreparably damaged what he had fostered with the fox. While doubtful that she would be able to recount much, if anything, of what led up to and occurred during its influence, he refused to take that chance. It was necessary to steel himself for damage control - be prepared to soothe and assure that the monster was gone, to find a way to contort this to his advantage.

The chaos and discord that clung to him like sticky tar were washed away as he bathed in the adjacent pool and regained composure. A calculated decision was made to switch to his human form prior to her awakening. He robed himself in fresh silk and momentarily basked in the feeling of the cool fabric slipping over his flesh.

Feeling the weariness that had doggedly pursued him the last day settle into his bones, he twisted to sit upon the bed and pushed himself to recline into pillows braced against the headboard.

He would stay to guard her and get some much needed rest of his own, confident in the knowledge that he would awaken well before her. There was much to think on and a mind clear of exhaustion was needed.

His hand rose and the room was sealed and dimmed.

❤️ Thank-you for reading!! Please consider liking & reblogging.❤️

< Previous Chapter: Ch. 15 (Blood)lust Pt.1 | Next Chapter: Ch. 17 Violet* >

#Plots & Prosody #baldur's gate 3 raphael #bg3 Raphael #raphael x tav #raphael the cambion #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 raphael fanfic #mrfancyfoot #raphael x oc #non-con #aphrodisiac

6 notes · View notes

moonrevolutions · 8 months ago

Text

some of vi's favorite perfume / fragrantica reviews...

on shocking by schiaparelli

To all those who would refer to Shocking as a "grandma fragrance" - - your grandma is a whore. Please give me her number, I want her to be my wing woman. Honey dripping over everything: gardens, thighs, kitchen cabinets, up those damn stairs, all the way to boudoir. Why wear this in winter and hide it? In the summer heat it shines, corrupting all those around it as the sweetest air of ruin. (the older the vintage, the better - - ferment that skank!).

on rauque by robert greco:

A gloomy, greasy haired biker stands in front of an opening to a cave in a damp forest. He’s holding a bouquet of violets. He ushers you in and you sit together quietly on a leather couch listening to the sounds of the woodland. You notice some mushrooms and wonder whether you left the heating on at home.

on dark vinyl musk by bohoboco:

A group of people making out intensely, some wearing heavy lipstick. Saliva. Heat. In a church while doing lines of snow off the Bible. This sexual encounter so close to demonic possession. Charismata. Speaking in tongues. My husband says it smells like a sandwich shop. We are not the same.

on yesterday by room 1015:

smells like yesterday's ass.

on female christ by 19-69:

really fruity car and panties smell. like you just had sex in a dealership vehicle and are spraying something to cover it up. not really for me but i love the fantasy of it

ngl he be talking like this regularly too in conversation for no reason. he's always had the cadence and vocab of an unhinged, but deeply poignant perfume reviewer... i should compile a list of his poetic, but troubling and fun quotes...

#*･༓☾ about! a shimmer in the night.#/ if u dont have an account on fragrantica ur missing out.#/ musing blogs wish they had this kind of pizzazz and depth.

9 notes · View notes

queermtl · 3 months ago

Text

Queer MTL things to do: September 2024

As Montréal switches over to its fall wardrobe (and looking incredible doing so), the city’s queer scene continues in high gear! And like every month, Montréal is stuffed to the brim with events, parties and unique experiences painted in all the colours of the LGBTQ+ rainbow. From drag to community, circuit to underground, here’s some of our picks for the best LGBTQ+ things to do in the city. For further announcements, including those not announced at time of publication, follow QueerMTL on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook and Tumblr! Got an event coming up? DM it our way!

LEGEND

🎥 Cinema 👑 Drag 🥳 Parties 🎶 Concert ✊ Activism 🏳️‍⚧️ Trans 🏳️‍🌈 Community 😆 Comedy 🎭 Performance 💪 Sports 👯‍♀️ Dance 🎤 Karaoke 🎨 Arts 📚 Literary / Educational 👠 Ballroom / Vogue

Sunday, September 1, 2024

👠 Ballroom 4 Community and LA SERRE present ÉLÉMENTS, a 10 week exploration of Ballroom culture. For week 3, they host a SLAY PICNIC, LA SERRE—arts vivants

🥳 L Nights / Work Hard, Play Harder with Gallant, Datcha

🥳 Cirque De Boudoir, DEBASEMENT and BERLIN TECHNO presents BERLIN TECHNO FETISH 2024 with DJ Davidé, DJ Mushin and Xris Smack!, Cabaret Berlin

👑 Jimmy Moore personifies Madonna: The Celebration Tour, Cabaret Mado

👑 Le Tracy Show with Tracy Trash and special guests Marla Deer, Rawxy and Lulu Shade, Cabaret Mado

👑 Dimanche Show with Michel Dorion, Bar Le Cocktail

Tuesday, September 3, 2024

😆 Ladyfest presents Zaddies, A Drag King Comedy Show with Niko Lubie, Claude Depussy, Rev Love, Uncle Marley, Jay Show, Timothy Toxic, Casanova and Delam in Drag, Theatre MainLine

👑 Full Gisèle : Full Tim Burton with Gisèle Lullaby and special guests Bambi Dextrous, Marla Deer, Victoire de Rockwell and Derek Wood, Cabaret Mado

👑 Adèle: Someone Like You with Sarah Winters, Bar Le Cocktail

😆 Stand Up St. Henri Open Mic focusing on women, non-binary, queer and allied comedians, Impro Montréal

Wednesday, September 4, 2024

🎭 Ladyfest hosts Pretty Funny: Burlesque vs Stand-up Comics with Velvet La Touche, Sara Quinn, Marianne Mandrusiak, Yumi Blake, Kyra Carleton, Maïté Sinave, Ri Ma and SugarVixen, Theatre MainLine

🎭 The Poly Mic open mic, Bar Notre-Dame-des-Quilles

🎭 Back to School with Bring Your Own Juice with Bring Your Own Juice, Bar Notre-Dame-des-Quilles

🥳 Soirées QUARTZ lesbian event with Rosie Bourgeoisie and DJ Douce, Club La Porte

🎨 Drink & Draw by @Hommehomo, Bar Le Cocktail

👑 Smoke & Mirrors with Sherry Vine, Cabaret Mado

Thursday, September 5, 2024

🥳 L’Orage presents Jeudi diversité !, L’Orage Club

👑 Mado Sings ABBA—50 Years of ABBA! with Mado Lamotte and special guests, Cabaret Mado

👑 Butterfly de nuit with Miss Butterfly, Bar Le Cocktail

Friday, September 6, 2024

🎭 As part of Ladyfest, Lucy Gervais and Melissa G present Cabaret Debauch with Malinka Molotov, Léo Lux, Mina Minou, Tongues, Mariam Khan and others, MainLine Theatre

😆 Ladyfest hosts A Very Pretentious Comedy Show, produced by Raquel Maestre and featuring Elspeth Wright, Marianne Mandrusiak, Mbissine, Mason Terry, Caroline Garon and Florence Trépanier, Theatre MainLine

💪 2SLGBTQ+ sports team ACC Water-Polo hosts an Open House for women, trans and non-binary folx, Cégep du Vieux-Montreal

👑 Mado Reçoit with Mado Lamotte, Sasha Baga, Bobépine, Velma Jones and Nana, Cabaret Mado

👑 Vendredi Fou with Michel Dorion, Bar Le Cocktail

Saturday, September 7, 2024

😆 Bulge and Ladyfest present Dykes on Mics with Becca Love, Laure, Sadie Moland and Raquel Maestre, MainLine Theatre

📚 The Violet Hour Book Club reads Oliver Sacks’ On the Move: A Life, Archives gaies du Québec

🥳 Super Taste and HOMOPOP present BEYONCÉ DANCE PARTY: Virgo’s Groove with Kiara, Cabaret Berlin

🥳 After Palomosa: The Dare / Discoño with The Dare, Frost Children, Nation, Tyler Skye and Indie Sleaze in the ESPACE SAT and MJ Nebreda, Cheba Iman, mCherry and AyyBrino in the DÔME SAT, Société des arts technologiques [SAT]

🎤 Bareoke: Strip Karaoke, Café Cléopatra

👑 Jackbox Games with Uma Gahd and Selma Gahd, Bar Le Cocktail

👑 Mado Reçoit with Mado Lamotte, Sasha Baga, Bobépine, Velma Jones and Nana, Cabaret Mado

👑 Late Night with Jessie Précieuse, Cabaret Mado

👑 Drôles de Drags with Miss Butterfly, Ciathanight, Crystal Starz or Emma Déjàvu in rotation, Bar Le Cocktail

Sunday, September 8, 2024

👠 Ballroom 4 Community and LA SERRE present ÉLÉMENTS, a 10 week exploration of Ballroom culture. For week 4, they host a DJ and Commentator workshop, LA SERRE—arts vivants

😆 Ladyfest presents LEXPERTS with Eve Parker Finley, Ray Resvick, Becca Redden, Lauren Mallory and Raquel Maestre, MainLine Theatre

😆 Ladyfest presents QT Shop Talk featuring new and seasoned comedians trying out new material with a focus on Queer and Trans comics, MainLine Theatre

💪 Montréal Roller Derby’s BOOTCAMP 2024 kicks off today with two practices per week, Patro Villeray

🎶 Helene Rose Session : Queerly Iconic! with Helene Rose, LaRude and Leo Luxe, Turbo Haüs

🎶 Andrew Jamieson's B-Side with Andrew Jamieson and Sophie Lane, The Wiggle Room

👑 Le Brunch Aux Folles with Misty Waterfalls, Bobépine and Suri Racha, Bar Social Verdun

👑 Le Tracy Show with Tracy Trash and special guests Bobépine, Lady Boom Boom and Pétula Claque, Cabaret Mado

👑 Dimanche Show : Les succès oubliés with Michel Dorion, Bar Le Cocktail

Tuesday, September 10, 2024

👑 Full Gisèle : Full Country with Gisèle Lullaby and special guests Misty Waterfalls, Foxy Lexxi Brown, Clay Thorris and Yikes Macaroni, Cabaret Mado

😆 Stand Up St. Henri Open Mic focusing on women, non-binary, queer and allied comedians, Impro Montréal

Wednesday, September 11, 2024

🏳️‍⚧️ Studio ZX and Aide aux Trans du Québec (ATQ) present Trans-Gen, a meeting for Trans folx of all ages, Place du Village

🎭 The Poly Mic open mic, Bar Notre-Dame-des-Quilles

🎭 The Alt Comedy Show hosted by Raquel Maestre, Bar Notre-Dame-des-Quilles

👑 Bonne fête Jessie 30 ans! with Jessie Précieuse and Victoire de Rockwell, Cabaret Mado

👑 Trashilaz : Édition Next Génération superstar with Infernal Desires, Moh Dafok, Val The Freak, Kitty Catcherr, Lorenzo, Swordverine, BiG SiSsY, Hailey Well and Mia Moore, Cabaret Mado

Thursday, September 12, 2024

🏳️‍🌈 Board Games evening, Robin Des Bois

🥳 L’Orage presents Jeudi diversité !, L’Orage Club

👑 Girls' Night Out with Krystella Fame and special guests Celes and Lana Dalida, Cabaret Mado

👑 Butterfly de nuit with Miss Butterfly, Bar Le Cocktail

Friday, September 13, 2024

🎥 Studio ZX, Village, Village pour Toustes and Ballroom 4 Community present a screening of the documentary KIKI starring Twiggy Pucci Garçon and Chi Chi West in Place du Village

🥳 Picket x Kadera VOL. 2 with Kebra, Jaiju, La Niña Kiwi, Rico Rica b2b Teykirisi and mCherry, Church St. John the Evangelist

👑 Mado Reçoit with Mado Lamotte, Kitana, Celes, Tracy Trash and Nana, Cabaret Mado

👑 Vendredi Fou with Michel Dorion, Bar Le Cocktail

Saturday, September 14, 2024

🥳 LEZ DANCE lesbian party with DJ Franklyne, Stock & Soda

👑 Jimmy Moore personifies Adele, Cabaret Mado

👑 Mado Reçoit with Mado Lamotte, Kitana, Celes, Tracy Trash and Nana, Cabaret Mado

👑 Drôles de Drags with Miss Butterfly, Ciathanight, Crystal Starz or Emma Déjàvu in rotation, Bar Le Cocktail

Sunday, September 15, 2024

👠 Ballroom 4 Community and LA SERRE present ÉLÉMENTS, a 10 week exploration of Ballroom culture. For week 5, they host a Ballroom: Codes & Moments workshop, LA SERRE—arts vivants

👑 Le Tracy Show with Tracy Trash and special guests Sasha Baga, Marla Deer and Crystal Starz, Cabaret Mado

👑 Dimanche Show with Michel Dorion, Bar Le Cocktail

Tuesday, September 17, 2024

👑 Full Gisèle : Full Fashion Week with Gisèle Lullaby and special guests Lady Boom Boom, Pétula Claque, Kiara and Ladrag On-Fly, Cabaret Mado

👑 Garden of Shade : Pokémon Édition 2 with Lulu Shade, Sarah Winters, Prudence, Soleil Levant, Queen Latina, Kleopatra and Spiked Corona, Bar Le Cocktail

😆 Stand Up St. Henri Open Mic focusing on women, non-binary, queer and allied comedians, Impro Montréal

Wednesday, September 18, 2024

🏳️‍⚧️ Studio ZX and Aide aux Trans du Québec (ATQ) present Trans-Gen, a meeting for Trans folx of all ages, Place du Village

🎭 The Poly Mic open mic, Bar Notre-Dame-des-Quilles

🎭 Advice By The Fireplace Live hosted by Daniel Carin, Bar Notre-Dame-des-Quilles

🎨 Drink & Draw by @Hommehomo, Bar Le Cocktail

Thursday, September 19, 2024

🎥 Queer Cinema Club of Montréal hosts a screening of William Wyler’s The Children's Hour starring Audrey Hepburn and Shirley MacLaine, Cinema Moderne

🥳 L’Orage presents Jeudi diversité !, L’Orage Club

👑 Butterfly de nuit with Miss Butterfly, Bar Le Cocktail

Friday, September 20, 2024

📚Lancement guide coming out et questionnement, L’Euguélionne, librairie féministe

👑 Mado Reçoit with Mado Lamotte, Adriana The Bombshell, Peggy Sue, Carmen Sutra and Nana, Cabaret Mado

👑 Vendredi Fou : Soirée sans pantalon with Michel Dorion, Bar Le Cocktail

Saturday, September 21, 2024

👠 Ballroom 4 Community and LA SERRE present ÉLÉMENTS, a 10 week exploration of Ballroom culture. For week 6, they host The Éléments Kiki Ball, Parc Nicolas-Viel

🎤 Bareoke: Strip Karaoke, Café Cléopatra

🥳 Queen & Queer present QUEEN & QUEER Dance Party ⭐️ 100% Latino & Caribbean with DJ Sam, NanaZen and Empress, La Sala Rossa

👑 Jimmy Moore personifies Taylor Swift, Cabaret Mado

👑 Mado Reçoit with Mado Lamotte, Adriana The Bombshell, Peggy Sue, Carmen Sutra and Nana, Cabaret Mado

👑 Alix au pays des merveilles with Cismon Genderfuck and La Dolce Follia Bar Le Cocktail

👑 Drôles de Drags with Miss Butterfly, Ciathanight, Crystal Starz or Emma Déjàvu in rotation, Bar Le Cocktail

Sunday, September 22, 2024

👑 Le Tracy Show with Tracy Trash and special guests Kiara, Marla Deer and Jessie Précieuse, Cabaret Mado

👑 Dimanche Show : Gala du Cocktail with Michel Dorion, Bar Le Cocktail

Tuesday, September 24, 2024

😆 Stand Up St. Henri Open Mic focusing on women, non-binary, queer and allied comedians, Impro Montréal

👑 Full Gisèle : Miss Full Gisèle Univers avec Tootsie with Gisèle Lullaby and special guests Sasha Baga, Lady Guidoune, Carmen Sutra and Velma Jones, Cabaret Mado

Wednesday, September 25, 2024

🏳️‍⚧️ Studio ZX and Aide aux Trans du Québec (ATQ) present Trans-Gen, a meeting for Trans folx of all ages, Place du Village

🎭 The Poly Mic open mic, Bar Notre-Dame-des-Quilles

🎭 The Poly Showcase hosted by Lauren Mallory, Bar Notre-Dame-des-Quilles

Thursday, September 26, 2024

🥳 L’Orage presents Jeudi diversité !, L’Orage Club

👑 Le Sami Party with Sami Landri and special guests Sasha Baga, Lady Guidoune, and Uma Gahd, Cabaret Mado

👑 Butterfly de nuit with Miss Butterfly, Bar Le Cocktail

Friday, September 27, 2024

🥳 Laylit celebrates their 6 Year Anniversary with MNSA and others, Ausgang Plaza

👑 Mado Reçoit with Mado Lamotte, Gisèle Lullaby, Marla Deer, Pétula Claque and Nana, Cabaret Mado

👑 Vendredi Fou with Michel Dorion, Bar Le Cocktail

Saturday, September 28, 2024

🎭 Sprung: An All Rabbit Revue raising money for rabbit rescue group Sauvatage Lapin Errants with Votre Dame, Quincy Chase, Bambi Van Boom, Odala Moore, Flame Fatale, Bebe Elle, Odala Moore and Kitty Catcherr, Café Cléopatra

👑 Mado Reçoit with Mado Lamotte, Gisèle Lullaby, Marla Deer, Pétula Claque and Nana, Cabaret Mado

👑 Drôles de Drags with Miss Butterfly, Ciathanight, Crystal Starz or Emma Déjàvu in rotation, Bar Le Cocktail

Sunday, September 29, 2024

👠 Ballroom 4 Community and LA SERRE present ÉLÉMENTS, a 10 week exploration of Ballroom culture. For week 7, they host a Clips & Chill workshop, LA SERRE—arts vivants

👑 Le Tracy Show with Tracy Trash and special guests Pétula Claque, Victoire de Rockwell and Kelly Torrieli, Cabaret Mado

👑 Spécial Mireille Mathieu, Bar Le Cocktail

OTHERS / LES AUTRES

👠 Twice a month on every second Tuesday, Bring It! hosts an OTA night of ballroom and vogue with commentator and DJ. Follow their Instagram for dates and details.

💪 Montréal Roller Derby hosts regular matches and open boot camps throughout the year. Follow their Facebook page for additional info.

🤠 Club Bolo—Danse Country Montréal meet on Fridays at the Association sportive et communautaire du Centre-Sud.

👯 Tango/Salsa Queer holds lessons every Saturday, visit queertangomtl.com for information or contact [email protected] or call +1 (514) 709-4678 for prices and signup information, Espaces des Arts.

🏐 Les Ratons-Chasseurs (Montréal’s LGBTA dodgeball group) holds regular events. Keep an eye on their Facebook for upcoming opportunities to join in and play.

🕹Montréal Gaymers hosts regular gatherings including board game nights and gaming gatherings. Check their Facebook for what’s next!

🏃🏾Join the Out-Run run and workout club for people relating to the queer / sapphic experience. Details on their Instagram!

🐦 Bird lovers should keep their eye on Queer Birders' regularly scheduled birdwatching events and excursions. Join the Facebook group and get those binoculars at the ready.

#mtlmoments #lgbttravel #2slgbtq #drag #montreal #queermtl #lgbtq #nightlife #thingstodo #events

4 notes · View notes