#envy adams fic

[ikarakie]

behind the scenes of battle of lovers

[danielleargentino]

save me college juliexenvy . college juliexenvy save me

[sporkhater]

FIRST SCOTT PILGRIM FIC WHOOO!!!

Forgot to post this last night but hehe little silly

[rustyarcade]

✨Ramona Does A Stunt for Envy✨

I’m back yall! But I’m back into my Scott Pilgrim phase. Here’s a fic I did about Ramona and Envy :3

Please note that it’s rated Mature due to suggestive themes!

You can also read it right here on tumblr! Just go under the cut :3

More Scott Pilgrim fics and art coming soon!

“Ramona! Come into my trailer before we have to start shooting this next scene. I have another stunt for you.”

Ramona rolled her eyes as she hung by her waist from the cables to the ceiling. Working on this movie had to be one of the most exhausting and stupidest things she ever had to do. It felt like an obstacle course she had to go through everyday so she could get to Todd Ingram and figure out what happened to that guy she kinda went out with one time.

What was worst of all was Envy Adams, Todd’s famous bitchy girlfriend. God, what a pain it was to work for her. She constantly asked Ramona to do “stunts” for her. “Stunts” being a code word for whatever the hell she needed her to do that day. From actually doing an intense stunt, to picking up her laundry, to feeding her pet dog, Ramona did everything Envy asked for.

But Ramona was willing to do anything to get Scott Pilgrim back.

Ramona sighed, “I’ll be right there. Can you lower me please?” A crew member gently lowered her to the ground and she caught up with Envy who was a few feet ahead of her.

No words were exchanged between them on their way to the trailer. Ramona studied her face. She was so calm yet so bold and confident. Her deep eye shadow complimented her eye shape. Her red hair flowed perfectly down her face and shoulders, framing her like the Mona Lisa. She really was hotter in person.

Soon enough, they arrived and entered Envy’s trailer. She shut the door behind them.

Envy’s trailer was as extravagant as she was. It was covered in luxury items. Ramona felt like she was in a limousine. Prada pillows were placed on high quality leather couches with Gucci tableware strewn about the side tables and sink. The entire trailer reeked of Chanel No. 5. A tiny closet was filled to the brim with luxury brands that Ramona couldn’t recognize or care about.

“What did you need me in here for?” Ramona asked.

Envy walked over to the couch and plopped herself down. She beckoned Ramona to sit next to her. She obeyed. As soon as Ramona sat down, Envy rearranged herself to be lying down, with her long legs stretching onto Ramona’s lap.

Ramona froze. It had been a while since she had gotten so close with a woman… Three years ago…? That doesn’t matter right now. Envy is happening right now. Envy propped her upper body up and pulled lip gloss out of her pocket. She dangled it in front of Ramona’s face. Her eyes widened.

“I know I have a whole makeup department to do all this work, but I am playing you after all. I need you to do my lips the way you do yours.”

“D-do your lips…?” Ramona muttered. Her mind wandered off into dangerous territory. “Get it together,” she told herself internally. She shook her head in an attempt to get her mind out of the gutter.

Ramona fumbled the lip gloss in her sweaty palms. She felt like she didn’t even have the strength to unscrew the cap. Envy was growing impatient. “Hey! Hurry up, Flowers! I don’t have all day.”

After what felt like an hour, Ramona took the wand out of the gloss. Envy opened her mouth slightly, ready for Ramona. She took a deep breath and slowly began to put the gloss all over Ramona’s lips. Her hands felt shaky, but her application was crisp. She took in the silhouette of Envy’s lips in excruciating detail.

All while, Envy looked at her with her big black eyes. Her big black beautiful eyes. Like those of a siren. That’s what she was. A siren. Luring men and women into her grasp just to crush them into pieces. That’s what she was doing to Ramona. She tried her best to avoid eye contact, but she struggled immensely. It didn’t matter where she looked, her nerves raged on. The way Envy’s chest rose and fell with each breath was addicting to watch.

Ramona was nearly done with applying lip gloss when her hands got too shaky for her own good. Her hand slipped causing a small streak of lip gloss to be marked to the corner of her mouth right outside the intended area. She let out a small gasp at her own action.

Envy made an annoyed sound and rolled her eyes in disgust. “Nice job, Flowers,” she remarked sarcastically.

“Sit up so I can fix it,” she pleaded. Envy positioned herself to be closer to Ramona’s face. Ramona’s thumb softly scraped the lip gloss off of Envy’s chin. Each light caress of her skin brought the two’s faces closer and closer. Their breaths becoming hotter and heavier by the second.

Before Ramona could even fully realize it, their lips were interlocked. Envy draped her arms around Ramona’s shoulders and Ramona’s hands found their way to Envy’s sides. Ramona instinctively held onto her tightly and tried her best to pull her in due to the limited space. Soon, she wrapped her arms around her entire body, fully embracing every part of Envy Adams.

Envy got up on her knees without parting from Ramona’s lips. She began to run her fingers through Ramona’s short and colorful hair and pushed her face into hers as much as humanly possible.

It was hot.

It was messy.

There were…

Sparks.

Ramona’s heart dropped when she felt them. She quickly pushed Envy off of her as she started to hyperventilate. Envy looked at her with an annoyed yet mischievous grin. She was breathing heavily as well.

“You ruined my lip gloss…” Envy sighed out.

“I can’t…” Ramona said in between breaths.

“Why’d you stop, baby?”

“Envy, I can’t-“ Ramona repeated. She was stopped by Envy’s index finger being pushed against her lips.

“I know you’re looking for Scott.”

Ramona tensed at the comment. “W-what are you-“

“I’m not stupid. Roxie told Lucas Lee who told Todd who told me all about your little plan to find out who kidnapped Scott. Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but it wasn’t me or Todd. We could care less about that loser.”

Ramona could only stare at her. Great. She still hasn’t found a solid lead on Scott’s disappearance and she has a sloppy make out session with his ex-girlfriend. Not only did they make out, but she began to feel some way about her. She felt the guilt spread all over her body. Ramona groaned and buried her head in her hands.

“No… no…” Ramona moaned out. She resisted the urge to cry.

Envy giggled at the sight. “Don’t worry. I make a lot of girls realize something about themselves,” She sighed as she pushed some hair out of Ramona’s sweaty face.

Ramona quickly got up and walked towards the door. “I have to go…” Ramona squeaked out as she put her hand on the doorknob. Somehow, Envy caught up to her. She slammed her hand next to Ramona’s face into the metal walls of the trailer. The sound made Ramona jump.

With one arm extended next to Ramona’s face and Envy standing tall and confident in front of her, Ramona felt herself getting smaller. Her knees buckled slightly as she looked into Envy’s eyes. “Before you go…” Envy got slowly and slowly closer to Ramona’s face. Her breath felt hot and heavy as she breathed down Ramona’s neck.

“If Scott ever breaks your heart, you can always come running back to me, sweetheart.”

Ramona felt herself shaking. Envy planted a small kiss on her cheek. Her unoccupied hand landing on Ramona’s side. Ramona’s heart skipped a beat and she gasped. Envy giggled at the sight.

All of a sudden, Ramona felt herself being pushed out of the door. She lost her balance and landed on her forearm. She whipped her head around to see a smiling Envy closing the door on her.

Young Neil was waiting outside in his golf cart. He seemed unaffected by Ramona’s fall. “Oh hey Ramona. Didn’t see you down there,” He commented.

Ramona said nothing as she climbed into the golf cart. Young Neil began to drive. “So. Did you help Envy out with the stunt she needed?”

“I guess you could say that,” Ramona answered solemnly.

Ramona stared at Envy’s trailer as it shrank and shrank into the distance. The place that changed her life.

[queenie-avenue]

Sent from Below, Fell from Above. [pt.1] [pt.2]

—> if angels can fall, demons can rise.

⤻ reader is a female, reader is a bunny-type angel(?), canon-typical cursing, very bad use of 1920s slang, heavily inspired by @jazjelspen 's angel baby fic, death, betrayal, mentions of racism, abuse of men against women and sexism, angst, spoilers for all of hazbin hotel season one, flashbacks

notes: a rather long one, and wrote another small verse for readers to sing. I wrote it while slowing down the melody in Emily and Charlie's parts.

💌 ⤻ archives.

You walked into the broadcasting room, your heels clacking against the clean floor as you looked about before acknowledging that someone was already there.

"Ah, are you my newest assistant?" The man seated there had the widest grin on his face as he sat there, legs slightly spread apart as you gulped, nodding your head so meekly. Ah, to be human again, when you were too scared to even raise your head. "Haha, that's wonderful, my dear. I was told you had quite the resume. Most impressive for a young lady." You nodded your head. "Very... very impressive indeed." He smiled at you.

"You are impressive too, sir." You quipped.

"Oh?" He tilted his head.

You blushed as he narrowed his eyes at you. "Both of us... we- we're not exactly what society deems as... correct."

"Is that why you're working here? You relate to me?" The creole man asked, leaning against his chair as he tapped a lanky finger on his desk.

"No." You shook your head, your wild hair shaking alongside you. "I admire you. I want to be like you. I imagine it must have been hard for to get to where you are now." You spilled your heart out to this man, because for years, you admired how someone that was meant to be pushed out of what society deemed 'right' managed to rise to the top, to become a striking star in the radio world. "So I'm here because I want to learn how to become a star, just like you."

His eyes widened as you faced him with that determined look on your face.

"What a bright young woman." He rose up from his seat, sauntering his way towards you as you stood there, waiting.

Alastor grabbed your hand, bowing down as he looked up at you, that sweet grin on his face. "Alastor, my dear, pleasure to meet you." He said, before sealing your fate with a kiss on your hand. "I hope that we can get along well." You gazed at him with wide eyes, your eyes raking over his bronzed skin and brown — almost red — hair. Glasses lined his gleaming eyes.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

"Hey, bitch! I'm talking to you over here!" Adam's voice rang throughout your head as your head snapped up to meet the first man on Earth. You frowned.

You never liked Adam. He was stuck-up, and you had heard the stories of how badly he treated Lilith and Eve, it reminded you of your high-school friends who unfortunately fell into the hands of those abusive men they had to marry. Adam had the same air as them, just less... smart.

"You want me to show up to the trial?" You repeated.

"Yes!" Adam yelled.

"I don't mind. That demon princess annoys me a little. I don't understand why she's trying to redeem a murderer like him." You hissed. The fact that girl — who probably knew of his sadistic nature — associated with him, left a bad taste in your mouth. Though wrath was a sin, you felt resentment and wrath for Alastor, and envy for how he did not seem to regret any of his actions that led him to hell in the first place. Meanwhile, you had to deal with the nightmares that came with being killed. For the first years in Heaven, you woke up in cold sweat as you remembered the knife that went through your heart.

"Well then, babe," you disliked Adam, but a temporary truce would be fine. "Let's start heading there, shall we?"

You nodded and unflapped your wings.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

You flew up to the seat beside Adam, eyes narrowed as you watched Alastor promenade in with the Princess of Hell and that girl you still had no idea about. The way he walked was still the same as it had been years ago.

You met eyes with Alastor, mustering all your courage to send a look of malice his way, as Sera announced the beginning of court.

"We are gathered here today to determine whether or not a soul in Hell can be redeemed to the Heavenly Realm by means of this Hazbin Hotel." Oh, you just knew Alastor named that Hotel, he always did have a sick sense of humour. You almost snorted at the name too, but refrained from doing so.

Adam nudged you. "Now." He practically hissed. Out of spite, you almost didn't stand up.

"Objection!" You said as you stared down at the Princess, then at Sera. "I apologise for interrupting you, your royal highness." You looked down at her, then up at Sera, who glared at Adam, instinctively knowing it was his idea to rope in the innocent you into his plans. "I understand that as a Winner, I typically have no say in how Heaven runs things." You summoned up all your might as you met Sera's eyes, utilising all that courage you had back as Alastor's assistant into your heavenly body. "But I must disagree on the type of people the Princess of Hell is trying to redeem." You pointed a finger at Alastor, his eyes widening in amusement as you accused him.

"This man, I knew him from when I was alive, my heavenly council." You looked at all the archangels and others that gathered around. "He was the man who killed me. A notorious serial murderer from when I was alive. More of his victims are no doubt here too, maybe some in hell. But what doesn't change the fact is that someone as dangerous as him," You pointed your finger at Alastor again, your face turning red as he simply tilted his head towards you, like a gentleman greeting a lady. The council gasped as they all whispered about, some glaring down at your murderer. For once, you felt like justice was being served for how abruptly your life had ended in Alastor's hands."Does not belong in Heaven after all the souls he has killed in his time in the living. No matter how much he repents, taking away another human's soul is an unforgivable crime!" You exclaimed.

The rest of the council agreed, as the Princess and the girl beside her looked about, frantic. Alastor simply smiled up at you, his little bunny.

"Order in the court." Sera said, attempting to calm everyone down after you riled them up with your voice.

"You've always been such a good public speaker, my little bunny." You saw red, he dared to call you that intimate nickname in front of the Heavenly Court? After you had revealed his crime to everyone to see?

It seems that Alastor's nerve had not died with him.

"Why is he even here?" You questioned Charlie, your fiery gaze never leaving the trio below you.

"I am the host of the hotel, my dear!" Alastor said, "I should be here to support my fellow colleagues in their endeavours. What kind of co-worker — let alone friend — would I be if I let them defend their case on their own?"

You were about to speak when you were interrupted by that Princess.

"In the Hazbin Hotel, we believe that everyone can be redeemed!" The Princess exclaimed despite the loud voices drowning her out. "Please, you have to listen!"

"You don't even have evidence that this Hotel can work. If you do, we'd be glad to see it!" Adam responded sarcastically, challenging Princess Morningstar.

"We have a patron that is showing incredible progress." She said.

"Who?"

"Don't tell me it's him." You glared at the Princess, daring her to confirm your doubts.

"Angel Dust!" What an odd name.

"Oh yeah! The porn demon, he's totally worth being redeemed." Adam blew a Raspberry at them. That was... immature. Still, your cheeks almost flamed scarlet as Adam gave you context for who and what this sinner the Princess referred to was.

"Well, if you know so much, what do you think it takes to get into heaven?" She pointed at Adam as your eyes widened. You had never thought about this before but... what did a person need to do to get into heaven? Did they need to be perfect? Because if so, you certainly belonged in Hell. Then, you remembered Alastor and your mood soured to think that you might have been in the same spot as him.

What was even more shocking was when Adam began to get flustered, flabbergasted by Charlie's question as Sera inquired as to whether Adam was okay. You watched even more shocked as Adam cursed at Sera and began to scribble nonsense onto a paper and sent it down to the girl. You caught a glimpse of the paper and your eyes widened.

"Are you fucking serious?" The ashen girl by the Princess' side asked, and honestly, that was your reaction too.

Adam snapped his fingers as Charlie challenged him, your eyes narrowing as an orb of light began to reflect, glowing bright before showcasing a bunch of sinners... partying? Was that how partying looked nowadays?

"Heavenly people, what more do you need to see? The pornstar chose a night of debauchery, that's not a soul worthy of being redeemed!" You side-eyed Adam. He had done way more debaucherous stuff than you cared to admit, and plus, if not partying was one of the factors for how you could get into heaven, the parties Alastor dragged you to would have caused you to plummet to Hell already.

"Are you telling me you never had a drink with friends after a hard day?" The Princess was right.

Thankfully, Sera was much more forgiving and less stupid than Adam, considering that she eventually allowed the Princess of Hell to continue. Still, you glared at Alastor, annoyed that you and Adam's ploy to get everyone so worked up over the serial killer in the room had not worked.

If the type of people the Princess of Hell, Charlotte Morningstar, wanted to redeem was a serial murderer, you would never accept the idea of redemption.

Alastor did not deserve such happiness.

You continued to watch, and the more you watched, the more you empathised with this Angel Dust... the more you felt inclined to care for him. You felt your heart — that you had assumed turned to stone for the sinners down in hell — slowly soften into clay for this sad man. Yet, despite how sad he clearly was, he was so strong. Stronger than anyone you had ever seen.

"See! He did everything on your list! He was selfless, he stopped Nifty from stealing and stuck it to that Moth man!" Charlie exclaimed, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

"Well, b- then why isn't he here then!" Adam sputtered out. "Hm?"

"Why isn't he here?" Emily and You said in unison.

"Wait, none of you know what gets someone into Heaven?"

The rest of the conversation was a blur to you as you struggled with the idea that you had no idea why you were in Heaven. If you had done one wrong thing... would that have condemned you to hell with Alastor?

You had not even comprehended the fact that they had started debating their ideas in song till Lute who was seated beside you, began to insult the sinner that all of you had been observing. Your eyes had solely been focused on Alastor the entire time, but theh quickly shot to Lute.

"What are we even talking about? Some crack whore who fucked up already! He blew his shot like the cocks in his mouth, this discussion is senseless and petty!" Lute sang, and you almost reached out for her, to not say such crude things in front of the Heavenly council and certainly to not insult a victim of abuse. Yet Lute and Adam flew away first and you frowned even deeper.

"Gotta say I can't wait to-"

"Adam." You turned to Sera.

"Come down and exterminate you!" Your eyes widened as you realised the severity of this situation. You now understood why this Princess was fighting so hard for this hotel.

Adam was killing the sinners.

He was no better than Alastor. No, even worse. Adam slaughtered an entire group of people without mercy. You felt bile rise up from your throat as they continued to sing, the tunes of their voice banging against your ears.

"Whoops!"

"Guess the cat's out of the bag!"

"What's the big deal?"

They didn't even see what was wrong with what they had said. You almost stumbled back thanks to shock and your absurdly long dress. Your entire world was sent into a frenzy as you felt so disgusted with yourself, for thinking that you could work with Adam, for siding with Sera and Adam — though briefly — for the idea of extermination. You felt yourself fall back, but someone was there to catch you.

Alastor's shadows manifested behind you, holding you close to his chest. "Be careful, Sweetheart." He said, helping you regain your balance as you felt too much anger with yourself to be angry at him.

"If Hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie!"

"Emily-"

"If Angels can do whatever and remain in the sky! The rules are shades of grey, when you don't do as you say, when you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again!"

Their words resonated with you, and you found your heart thumping to the melody of the song.

"Don't look there." Alastor whispered as a red hand came up to your face, covering your eyes. "I don't like to see you stressed, my darling." The warmth of his hand felt like that time when he had surprised you on your birthday, covering your eyes before revealing the cake he had bought and the decorations he had put up for you.

Despite how he covered your ears, you could hear the court arguing amongst themselves.

That's when you heard it.

Sera's voice boomed throughout the entire court, facing the sinners with a verdict. "I'm sorry, but this court finds that there is no evidence souls in Hell can be redeemed."

"Oh fuck yes! I win, suck it, bitches!"

"You better save the date cunts, because we're coming to your hotel, first." That's when Alastor manifested in front of them, his shadows pushing Adam back, almost causing him to topple over.

"Not a very clever idea, chum, it's rude to curse at ladies." Alastor warned, the shadowy tentacles slithering about, ready to attack Adam.

"Ugh, son of a bitch!" Adam cursed as he grabbed out his guitar. "Or maybe, I can just kill you fuckers now." He took out his guitar-axe and in a flash of light, you flew towards them, shielding the trio from Adam's strikes with your wings. Adam flew back when his guitar-axe made contact with your angelic wings, enchanted by a spell that slammed Adam and Lute back, crashing into the wall.

"Just because you're a winner, does not give you the privilege to harm someone else!" You yelled, never having such a fit of rage in your life as you spread out your wings. You were a bunny; prey, never the predator. But as you spread out your Enchanted wings, you felt yourself grow angrier as you thought of how Adam — that sadistic motherfucker — no doubt killed multiple sinners. Sinners who were just like Angel Dust, misguided, but deserving of redemption.

"Are you seriously defending them right now, you crazy bitch?" Adam grunted as he glared at you.

"I'm defending the principle of it." You hissed.

Sera and Emily looked down at you. Sera, in particular, had a sour look on her face.

"You say that demons cannot be redeemed to Heaven, but why can Angels fall?" You questioned. "Lucifer himself, was once an angel, God's favourite angel!"

"If angels can fall, then why can't demons rise?" You looked towards the Heavenly council as you sang. "After this, will you really believe all their lies?" You questioned through song as Adam got up, knowing you had little time to convince the court. "The rules aren't black and white, who decides what's wrong and right? Can you say that this is justice when you kill them again?" You sang, pleading for the court to just look past their prejudices.

Just then, you heard a snap of Adam's fingers as a portal emerged from behind all of you. "No!" You yelled when you noticed how the portal was leading to a red fiery pit you assumed was hell, but before you could even protest, you had been pushed in by Lute, causing the rest of the four of you to stumble back down into hell.

tags: @duckydinglers @ghostdoodlen @belletifeshyl

[thewritingbeforesunrise]

Love On My Fingers, Lust On My Tongue.

18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

A/N: This story is totally self-indulgent and was inspired by one specific line from the fic Wild Child, written by the lovely and immensely talented @writingcold. If you haven't already, go check it out, you won't regret it, believe me😉

I really hope you like this one. It's been ages since I last indulged in writing this kind of fics.

Special thanks to @edgingthedarkness for suggesting this delicious gif!

Join my taglist here.

Word count: 6K

Pairing: Jake x female!reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+ONLY, graphic sexual content, handjobs, oral (m!receiving), use of toys, anal play, pegging.

Summary: Coming home late from work, you decide to skip dinner to better savour dessert.

________________________________

Winter really didn't seem to let the warm rays of spring sunshine free to dissolve its icy tentacles.

Snow kept falling for the entire day without a pause but your boss was adamant in his decision of not letting you go home early. That bastard.

You were angry, freezing and starving and you couldn't wait to finally go home, shower, inhale dinner, bury yourself under at least three blankets and cocoon in Jake’s warm embrace.

He was lucky. He was home from tour and still asleep when you had left for work. You had been thinking about him the whole day. You envied and longed for him at the same time.

When it was finally 5pm, you clocked out and reached your car as quickly as possible, while trying not to break your neck slipping on the copious snow on the pavement.

After pushing the snow off the windshield, your gloves were soaked and your boots were full of icy snow slowly melting in your socks.

You felt anger increase in your chest as a passing car hit a puddle and soaked your jeans. You were about to flip them the bird and send them to hell but karma took the matter into its own hands before you could, sending the way-to-fast proceeding car to spin out in the middle of the road. Thank God there was no-one else there or it would have caused a big accident.

You were about to go check if they were alright when they drove off.

You climbed in your car and turned the heat at maximum level.

When finally you started to feel your own hands again, you took the road and started driving home.

But unfortunately not for long.

Traffic was always bad in your town but when snow was involved it was a proper nightmare.

You were proceeding so slowly that it was a miracle if you could be home in two hours time.

You phoned Jake and told him you were basically trapped on the road home.

He reassured you that he would cook for you and run you a hot bath for when you would be home.

You thanked him profusely. Mentally you were already home with him.

~

After an hour or so, the traffic jam went down unexpectedly and you found yourself pulling up your driveway much sooner than you had originally anticipated.

You wanted to surprise Jake, so you didn't call him to tell him you were early.

When you opened the door of your house, warmth and the fragrant smell of pizza engulfed you and your mouth watered instantly.

Jake was surprised to see you.

He was sprawled on the sofa wearing only a soft robe around his body. When he saw you were there, he approached you, placing a lingering kiss on your freezing lips.

He looked freshly showered and so soft you wanted to climb inside his body. He smelled wonderfully too.

As soon as your eyes landed on him, you were no longer hungry.

Well, at least not for actual food.

You couldn't wait to be tangled with him under many blankets.

When he asked about your day you didn't answer. You just crashed your lips with his and reveled in the familiar and comforting taste of him.

You started backing him slowly back into the living room and, when he reached the couch, you made him sit down.

You admired the way his damp lips glittered in the soft light coming from the lamp in the corner of the room and the way his big brown sleepy eyes watched you ever so submissively from below.

When you slowly dropped down to your knees between his slightly parted legs, you saw his eyes roll back into his skull as a low growl escaped his throat.

You started caressing his thighs through the fabric covering him and you saw him shiver lightly when you reached for the knot holding the robe closed.

You made quick work of it, uncovering his chest and starting to place little kisses on the expanse of soft smooth skin. Your icy hands travelled lower and he hissed sharply when you touched the warm bare skin of his hips, the contrasting temperatures making goosebumps raise on his body.

You uncovered him completely then, moving your kisses lower onto that soft tummy that you loved so much while your hands rounded around his perfect ass.

He hissed again then and tensed, but relaxed soon after, when your hands started warming, thanks to the heat of his body.

Your kisses moved lower and lower and you made him gasp when you stuck your tongue out and circled his navel, before dipping it inside.

Then, you placed a quick kiss on his hip bone and you bit down harshly, sucking the skin inside your mouth and making him groan again.

You had been purposely neglecting his growing erection, but when his hips rutted up almost imperceptibly, you took pity in him.

Now you were face to face with it. He was absolutely perfect and you knew you would never get tired of him.

You gently took him into your hand and he stiffened even more. You both sighed, contentedly. You knew that the feeling of his weight growing in your hand and on your tongue would cure your upset. It always did.

“God, please, baby yes” he muttered, sounding already on the verge.

You started stroking him gently and seductively.

“Did you take care of yourself today, baby?” You asked him as your lips started kissing, nibbling and leaving marks on the inside of his thighs.

Surprisingly he shook his head.

“I didn't. I was waiting for you. Actually I kind of edged myself all day” he confessed, already out of breath.

“You know I love when you take care of this beautiful cock of yours when I'm not here to do so, but fuck it if I don't love the idea of you edging yourself because you wanted to wait for me.” You whispered on his damp skin, making him shiver again as your grip tightened slightly around his erection.

“I know, but I missed your touch so much that nothing compares” He confessed, moaning lowly as your tongue dragged up and down the underside of him from base to tip to base again, in one slow broad lick.

Your hands stroked his hips again and you thought you felt something in one of his pockets.

You were about to reach inside to discover what it was but he begged for your mouth , blushing a little.

“I need your mouth, angel” he whimpered, sounding desperate.

You nuzzled your nose against the warm skin of his balls, making him close his eyes and whimper.

Unexpectedly, you started stroking him with purpose, making him grit his teeth and pant at your sudden change of pace.

You even added the little twist to the tip that he loved so much, gaining a pained groan from him.

You placed his wet tip between your lips and gave him a light suck before plunging him to the back of your throat without warning while kneading his balls gently between your fingers.

That action made him almost lose it completely but he recovered, biting his bottom lip with force and clawing at the couch.

His back arched as your throat constricted around his length and his movement caused something to finally slip out of his pocket.

Lube.

You slowed down your rhythm but kept your mouth on him, arching an eyebrow and silently asking him for an explanation.

And he couldn't stop himself from confessing.

“Since you were late, I wanted to try something. I was ready to turn on the TV on some suggestive video and edge myself until you came home.” He whispered, averting his eyes from yours, embarrassed.

You gently removed your mouth from him and sat back at his confession.

An idea slowly slithered inside your mind.

“Go on then, baby. Show me what you had in mind” you winked at him, tossing him the lube and making him curse.

“Really?” He asked, a little annoyed about your change of heart.

“Hm-hm” you nodded and sat back to enjoy the show.

You watched him closely as he placed a generous amount of lube onto his hands and warmed it a little.

Then he wrapped a hand around himself and started stroking his cock slowly, groaning and whimpering every now and then.

Just when you saw his body tense and you knew he was almost ready to let go, you spoke, ordering him to stop and remove his hand from himself completely.

“Stop, Jakey” you said. Your authoritative tone made him almost jump.

His eyes shot open in shock, as if in reality he forgot you were there and didn't enjoy your little teasing game.

But you knew better. He was the one who taught you that edging, and consequently being edged, was one of his favorite things. Ever.

You had learned that at your expense way too many times.

“Baby, pleaseee. I need it so bad.” He begged you, pouting adorably and hitching to wrap his hand around himself once more to finish what you had started.

He looked at you with a pained expression and with his rosy lips wet and parted as he panted, but obeyed nonetheless.

“First, you have to tell me what's inside your other pocket.” You went on, sounding incredibly serious.

His eyes widened in utter panic and he blushed the deepest shade of red you had ever seen.

Then, he cursed himself out loud for even thinking he could outsmart you and get away with it.

He knew he was in trouble. And the more he waited to finally show you the content of his pocket, the more you were going to punish him for even thinking he could get away with it.

Even though he knew that, he couldn't even bring himself to say it out loud but after a few agitated minutes in which his heart threatened to jump out of his chest, he finally relented.

You followed the slow path of his hand from the couch to inside his pocket with bated breath.

You saw him grab something in there.

Then his eyes fluttered closed, he took a deep breath, muttered a low “oh my god” and then removed his hand from there, finally showing you what he had been hiding from you.

You gasped.

You really didn't expect that.

His cheeks were ablaze. He was covering his eyes with his bent arm as he placed the object on the sofa for you to see and, immediately, removed his hand from it as if he had been burned.

You didn't know what to say.

You recognised it.

It was the vibrating dildo he had once discovered inside your nightstand drawer at the early stages of your relationship.

You had been so embarrassed that night but he, being the gentleman that he was, had brushed it off like it wasn't a big deal. He had even told you he was happy you took care of yourself properly.

You had almost forgotten about it until one night.

You were grasping the sheets for dear life as Jake was railing you from behind.

Sometimes he was the most careful and gentle lover, but other times he treated you like a filthy whore.

That night was one of those times.

And you were loving every second of it.

But suddenly you had felt him move and you had jolted forward in utter shock when you felt something wet and slightly vibrating circle your back entrance.

“Shh, angel.” He reassured you as he kept thrusting into you, “it's just your pretty little toy. It was a bit jealous. It wanted to say hi to your pretty ass as I take care of your sweet pink pussy.” You moaned at his words and started pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts.

“Are you ok with this?” He whispered into your ear from behind, dragging the vibrating toy up and then down your spine, making you shiver, while keeping his thrusts steady but gentle.

You quickly nodded, you needed it so bad.

It wasn't the first time you two indulged in such depraved activities.

To be fair, one night you'd had one too many drinks and you had confessed to him you wanted to try double penetration but since then he had never acted upon it.

He must have thought you weren't paying enough attention to his question because he stopped abruptly and bent his entire body over yours.

The contact with his hot skin made you shiver and moan.

His lips quickly found your ear and his voice, sweet and raspy, made goosebumps raise on your skin.

“Are you really ok with me doing this?” He said gently while pushing strands of your hair out of your eyes to better see your face.

The more you thought about it, the more you couldn't wait for him to do that.

You shivered in anticipation and kissed him passionately.

“Please, Jake, yes” You said, involuntarily clenching around him and making him groan.

You felt the distinct sound of him getting the toy ready for you with copious amounts of lube and then you tried your best to relax.

The feeling of the lightly-vibrating toy sliding inside of your back entrance while Jake kept his hard, flushed cock inside your pussy was something you had never experienced.

You felt so deliciously full you couldn't think straight.

When he started gently moving his hips while keeping the toy still inside of you, you couldn't stop your mouth from hanging open, making you drool all over the sheets.

The sounds that started leaving your mouth were delirious and unbridled when he started pulling the toy slightly out and then back again, picking up the pace.

But you reached the point of no return when he coordinated his thrusts with the toy and increased the speed of the vibrations.

“God, fuck, I can feel it vibrating through your walls, angel. It feels so fucking good.” he groaned on the verge of exploding.

Your brain shut down completely when he increased it at maximum level and you came, making an absolute mess all over the sheets and dragging him with you in a matter of seconds.

Those were the thoughts that crossed your mind when you saw that toy, but you were brought right back to the task at hand when a pained whisper reached your ears.

“Please, just say something” he whispered, still refusing to look you in the eyes.

Your hands immediately found his hips, giving his soft flushed skin a gentle squeeze to try and ease the tension in his body.

The embarrassment had caused him to lose his excitement completely.

As your hands massaged his hips, thighs and back, you felt him relax again.

You skimmed your lips on his soft tummy and started to nibble at the skin of his hipbone, while wrapping a loose hand around his now soft cock.

He mewled a little and sunk further into the sofa.

“It's ok baby, don't be embarrassed. May I ask you what exactly you had in mind?” you asked him, keeping a gentle rhythm on him and circling your tongue around his head.

With a shaky intake of breath he started speaking.

“One night we were staying in a hotel somewhere and there was no way I could sleep. I was so tired but I just couldn't. I didn't want to bother you so I just started messing around with my phone. I ended up on an adult website and…fuck, baby just like that.”

You had successfully derailed his train of thoughts by sucking gently on his tip, tasting his sweet precum.

But the distraction was short-lived.

You needed to know more.

“And?” You pressed him to continue.

“And I randomly chose a video to watch and touch myself to. But when I scrolled down I ended up on a video about…this” he said, pointing to the toy that laid there abandoned on the couch.

He knew you wanted more, so after a few seconds, he went on.

“Fuck, I still get so hard thinking about it. In the video there was a woman penetrating her man with one of this things and he sounded like it was the best thing he had ever had. It looked and sounded like she was ripping the soul from his body. And damn it if I didn't want to try it. It made me cum so hard and so quick I was so embarrassed. I felt so ashamed but I couldn't stop watching it. I wanted to finally try this when you arrived earlier.” he confessed with his cheeks ablaze.

You had completely stilled your hand and mouth on him. You felt incredibly overwhelmed by his words and your brain was having a hard time concentrating.

You two weren't new to that kind of fun either.

It all started the night after a delicious wine-tasting event. The two of you were pleasantly tipsy and you couldn't take your hands off each other as soon as you got home

You were on the couch, clothes already scattered all over the floor and your hands were wandering on each other's bodies. Yours had taken residence on his perfect perky ass and you were kneading the muscles in your hands, making him groan and whimper.

Suddenly your hand slipped and your fingers made contact with his back entrance causing him to whimper and moan your name.

You had frozen after that, looking him in the eyes completely lost in his reaction.

Right there, with a little smirk on his upturned mouth and his eyes glittering from wine and arousal, he wrapped a hand around your wrist and brought two of your fingers to his lips, sucking on them sloppily. Then he dragged them down to repeat the motion that had him moaning over and over again until you were knuckle deep inside of him and he was a whimpering mess.

Maybe your fingers weren't enough anymore and he needed more.

And you were going to give him anything and everything he ever wanted.

He noticed you were lost in your head and his gentle touch on your lips brought you back to the task at hand.

You wrapped your lips around his thumb, sucking lightly, and then letting it drop from your mouth.

You met his eyes and your heartbeat sped up considerably.

He looked so needy and fucked-out already. Delicate and delicious.

“Did you want to try this all alone?” You asked him pouting slightly because he hadn't told you he wanted to try that before.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn't… I guess I didn't know how to bring this up. I can't even say it to be honest” He confessed sheepishly.

“Really? You didn't know how to tell me you wanted me to fuck you in the ass with this bad boy here?” You told him patting the silicone at his side and making him groan out loud at you choice of words.

“Fucking hell baby. You are torturing me. Don't stop.” He said in a pained tone and you winked at him.

“Did you edge yourself with it before I arrived and interrupted you?” you asked then, in a sliver of voice.

He nodded, biting his lower lip, embarrassed.

“Well, Jakey, why don't you show me then? I'd like to watch you have some fun with our little friend here.” You whispered, sensual and dirty, handing him the dildo and the lube and then making yourself comfortable on a cushion on the floor, right in front of his spread legs.

His breath hitched in his throat as he saw you there watching and admiring him like that.

Yours was just a façade. You appeared to him absolutely calm and collected, but internally you were exploding and fighting the urge to jump his bones and destroy him with that toy.

The moment he switched the toy on at the minimum speed, you imperceptibly jumped and bit your tongue to stop yourself from moaning when you saw his hard cock twitch against his flushed tummy.

Your eyes followed his every move with bated breath as he drenched the toy with lube. You watched as he angled his erection upwards with the thumb of his free hand and brushed the tip of the vibrating toy against his flushed head.

A whimper left his lips.

Then he started circling the toy around his tip, focusing on the little spot right under the head and his toes curled at the sensation.

You were going to implode.

He started caressing his shaft with it, up and down, up and down, panting heavily, first just with the tip of the toy and then grabbing the length of it and placing it flush against his member. .

He almost screamed when he prodded the toy against his full tensed balls and you felt your arousal absolutely drench your panties at the sight.

He was about to drag the toy further down but he stopped abruptly, blushing furiously and abandoning it on the couch with a pained groan.

His brain was taking over, making him feel ashamed for what he was doing.

The moment he made eye contact with you, you knelt on the cold floor and crawled towards him.

You closed the distance between the two of you and sat on the sofa at his side, kissing him and stealing his breath away.

“Relax Jakey, let me take care of you” you whispered on his lips and he sighed.

You slipped back on the ground and took him in your hand and then in your mouth, the warmth of it making him hiss.

Your rhythm was slow on his dick and it was making him go crazy.

After a while, when finally he had managed to relax again, you grasped his hand and placed it on the toy that was still humming lightly at his side.

His eyes met yours questioningly but you just nodded and hummed approvingly when he took the toy in his hand.

You placed his hand between his legs and made him almost double over in pleasure when you gently made him press the silicone tip against his taint while keeping your mouth on him.

The scream that echoed into the room was heavenly.

You wanted to hear it again.

You pressed his hand with the toy with a bit more intention there and he cursed, his body tensing.

At that moment your hand slipped further down and you made him push the toy right against his hole, eliciting from him a low moan that made a shiver run down your spine.

You removed both the toy and your mouth from him and he cursed and pleaded with you to just touch him again.

He was about to take the matter into his own hands when you bit on the inside of his thigh to stop him.

Then, while maintaining eye contact with him you licked a broad stripe on the underside of his balls and you pressed your pointed tongue right against his taint and further down, rimming his fluttering hole over and over again while your eyes burned into his.

His eyes rolled back and you chuckled. You loved teasing him like that.

“Holy shit, angel!” He whimpered and clawed at the couch as your tongue kept licking at his entrance with different kinds of pressure.

When, abruptly, you stopped he started begging you, immediately.

“Please, baby, pleasepleaseplease, just fuck me already I can't take it anymore” he slurred, out of breath.

But you were feeling cruel and you didn't want to give in just yet. You wanted to play with him and you were sure he was going to love every second of it.

You removed your mouth from him and he shivered when you started whispering against the sweaty skin of his hip.

“Now, my sweet good boy, would you like to play a game with me?” You said while skimming your lips from his hip to the underside of his cock.

You knew he was going to agree to everything you suggested. He was always down for this kind of games.

“Fuck yes, I do” he answered, closing his eyes and relaxing back.

“I am going to give you everything you want over and over and over again, but on one condition.” You stopped talking until his eyes were open and focused on yours.

When you knew he was looking at you, you started caressing the outside of his muscular thighs, reveling in the way the muscles jumped under your delicate touch while maintaining a devilish eyecontact.

When you reached his knees, you let your hands wrap around them and you pushed them upwards until he was deliciously spread open for you with his bent legs close to his face.

“Keep these beautiful legs of yours spread open for me and wrap your hands around your knees, Jakey. Oh, and hold on tight because if you take them off I'm going to stop and you'll go to bed with blue balls. Understood?” You deadpanned and he knew you meant business.

“Fuck me. Yes, I understand.” He whimpered as your hands caressed the back of his thighs and pressed them further apart.

“Are you ok with this, Jake?” You whispered and he started nodding and saying yes even before you had finished the sentence.

You chuckled but he interrupted you, sounding already on the verge

“I'm beyond the point of no return. I think I may go crazy if you don't just fuck me already.” He confessed spreading himself even further for you.

You delved right in then, skimming your tongue against his entrance and wrapping a tight hand around his leaking cock.

You loved feeling him flutter under the steady licks of your tongue.

When you knew he was relaxed and ready, you stopped stroking him, you let a few drops of lube fall on your fingers and started pushing one inside him, making his scream in pleasure.

“Please, another” he groaned when the first wasn't even fully inside of him yet but you didn't even think twice before giving him exactly what he was asking for.

Soon a third finger joined the other two and you couldn't take your eyes off from where his body was rhythmically swallowing and enveloping your fingers into its warmth.

That image would be engraved in your brain forever, you were sure of it.

He was being such a good boy that you wanted to reward him, so you slightly curled your fingers upwards, making him exhale a high-pitched moan as you easily found his special spot.

“Now I'm going to use the toy, Jakey” you whispered, gently removing your fingers from him and he nodded, struggling to keep his eyes open.

You grabbed the toy you had previously switched off and drenched it one last time with lube.

You circled the tip of it around his hole and Jake whined when you turned the light vibrations on.

You kept teasing him like that for a few minutes before he begged you again to just push the toy in to the hilt. He was desperate.

As you pressed the toy a few inches inside of him he moaned your name, relieved, and arched his back trying to push it in further.

“Please, push it all the way inside. I need it so bad.” He whispered and you obeyed, watching him shiver and arch his back in pleasure as the toy penetrated him deeper and deeper. Watching his toes curl in your peripheral vision was having the worst effect on you, making you moan.

As you kept the toy inside of him you took the opportunity to observe him closely.

He had slipped further down the sofa and was now laying with his back almost all the way on the seat of the couch with his head bent against the back cushion.

He had trapped his hands in the crease behind his spread knees to prevent himself from letting them go and disobeying you.

He was panting heavily, his lips were reddened and sleek with saliva and swollen from the constant biting.

His neck and his heaving chest were covered in sweat, making his skin glitter.

His long hair was completed damp with sweat and strands of it were plastered all over his cheeks and collarbone.

You couldn't help yourself.

You bent over him and kissed him intensely. His tongue wasn't fighting for dominance, like it usually was. He was granting you total control on his body, and you were about to reward him.

As you kept your eyes planted on his face, you started pulling the toy out of him and you saw his face scrunch up and then relax again when you pushed the toy back in.

You repeated the motion again and again, angling the toy so it would massage his special spot and he started whimpering lowly every time it did.

The need to see him unravel completely by your hand was increasing in your chest so you quickened your rhythm, bending to whisper into his ear.

“You better hold on tight, baby, ‘cause I'm about to fucking ruin you.” you hissed in his ear and began moving the toy at a punishing rhythm. That caused his back to arch violently from the couch and a string of curses left his mouth.

“Oh fuck me, angel, just like this, oh my god. Yes fuuuck, right there” He moaned out loud with his eyes squeezed shut as a sequence of particular harsh thrusts hit his prostate in rapid succession.

His eyes snapped open and he cursed loudly when you sucked his balls into your mouth. You started massaging them delicately with your tongue, making him almost scream, while his cock, rock hard and leaking, laid twitching but still neglected on his sweaty tummy.

Your arm started cramping with the unforgiving rhythm you were using to fuck the toy inside of him but you didn't plan on stopping until he was coming harder than he ever had.

With your other unoccupied hand, you were grasping his hip so strongly you were sure you were leaving marks there. You couldn't wait to see his bruises there and remind him who he belonged to.

A particularly intense suction on his full balls paired with the harsh punching his prostate was enduring were what sealed his fate.

He held his breath and you knew he was about to unravel.

When finally he reached the point of no return, it looked as if he had completely lost control over his body. His head started thrashing around and a prolonged scream left his lips.

Ropes of cum covered the sweaty skin of his chest, creating a beautiful painting. Some drops of it even landed on his neck, chin and lips since he was still pretty much folded in half.

The intensity of his orgasm made him dig his nails so hard into the delicate skin behind his knees that he ended up scratching himself.

You kept your eyes peeled on him, admiring him in all his naked glory as his chest heaved and his mouth dropped open in the throes of utmost pleasure, before he started to finally calm down.

You slowed down the thrusts of the dildo and bent over him again. You licked away the drops of cum still on his lips and kissed him, making him taste himself on your tongue and groan.

You were about to remove the toy from inside of him and pamper him with a nice hot bath when you noticed something.

He was still very much hard and you wanted to prolong his pleasure, since he had obeyed your orders so diligently.

You were about to make him remember that night forever.

A loud hoarse curse echoed in the room as you angled the vibrator upwards and put it at maximum speed moving it gently against his prostate without thrusting too harshly.

Then, to maximise his pleasure, you plunged him down your throat while one of your hands gently massaged and squeezed his balls.

He was completely gone in an instant, babbling and moaning unintelligible words that sounded very much like a mix of curses and your name.

You hadn't noticed that he had removed his hands from his knees until you felt one of them bury in your hair.

His grip got progressively harsher on you but you were loving it.

At one point his thighs snapped closed, trapping your face between his legs and muffling the beautiful sounds he was making.

His back arched abruptly and his other hand gripped the back of the couch in an iron grip as his mouth dropped open in a scream so loud it was absolutely impossible that your neighbours didn't hear it.

You felt him twitch in your mouth and, immediately after, he spurted his warm release down your throat. His body twitched and shook and his chest heaved like he had just finished a marathon. He was so beautiful you wished your eyes could take pictures.

An indefinite amount of time had passed when finally he relaxed the grip of his thighs from your face and of his hand from your scalp.

You clearly saw some of your ripped hair hanging between his fingers when he moved his hand from your head, but you didn't care. You were ready to do that all over again as soon as he asked you to.

He couldn't keep his eyes open and he was having a hard time calming his heartbeat and breathing.

You removed your mouth from around him and he shivered but still he was a sight to behold.

His hair was completely damp with sweat and clinging onto his forehead, cheeks and neck.

Little rivulets of sweat adorned his chest and strings of pearlescent cum decorated his tummy chest and collarbone from his previous orgasm.

He had the most relaxed and blissed-out face you had ever seen with his rosy tortured lips slightly parted and his eyes closed.

But still he wasn't talking.

You started to worry. He was about to slip entirely off the couch so you tried to call his name, but he just mumbled in response, without opening his eyes

You tried to keep him from falling, but with your sore knees and arms you couldn't and, at some point, he fell dragging you down with him and landing with his head on your chest.

You chuckled at his expenses. You had never seen him so fucked-out.

“Jakey?” You whispered after a few minutes, caressing his hair.

“Hmhm” he grumbled in a sliver of voice.

“Are you ok?” You asked him, moving your hand gently down his spine.

“Yeah” he whispered, but he didn't move.

You two laid there a bit more reveling in eachother's presence until you felt him shiver.

“Jake?” You whispered again.

“Yeah?” He answered this time, sounding almost asleep.

“We should take a nice hot bath, what do you think?” You suggested, trying to sit up but failing miserably.

“No” he said, the pout evident in his tone.

“C'mon, we can sleep afterwards” you tried to convince him.

After a little more persuasion and a few giggles from your part, he finally relented and you managed to make him roll off of you. Getting him up wasn't exactly easy, since his legs were shaking with the aftermath of your devilish ministrations.

When finally the two of you were pleasantly immersed in hot water and he was laying with his back against your chest, you started washing the sweat and remnants of that crazy evening off his spent body.

“Are you ok?” You finally asked while you rinsed his hair one last time.

He didn't answer you.

Instead he turned around in the tub and kissed you deeply, caressing your body gently but passionately with his calloused fingers.

Then swiftly, he grabbed your hips and pushed you out of the tub, making you sit on the edge of it with your back against the cold wall and your legs spread open in front of his face.

You gasped and grabbed at his shoulder to steady yourself while you observed him astonished.

You were about to speak but he stopped you, placing a wet finger against your parted lips.

“Remember, angel, the one who laughs last laughs best” he whispered, bringing his mouth closer and closer to your heath.

He was going to get his revenge, and you were absolutely ready for it.

____________________________________

Taglist: @gvfpal @sammyslappers @spark-my-nature @highladyofasgard @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jessicafg03 @doodle417 @hellowgoodbye @ejoygvf @jaketlover @jakekiszkasbabymama @objectsinspvce @indigostreakmorgan @witchofendora @myleftsock @gretavanshmeat @gretasfallingsky @giraffehippy @jennasometimesreads @katiegvf @sinarainbows @laney_gvf @themorningbirds @starcatcherchords @lipstickitty @meetingthestardust @joshskittytickler @livkiszka @twistedmelodies @ignite-my-fire @gvfmarge @writingcold @brujamagik @edgingthedarkness @gold-mines-melting @mindastreamofcolours @blacksoul-27 @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @mapelsyrup07 @klarxtr @takenbythemadness @peaceloveunitygvf @lyndz2names @jazzyfigz @its-interesting-van-kleep @katuschka @fleet-of-fiction @lvnterninthenight @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @hollyco

[shadeysprings]

YOU

—Art Collector!Steve Kemp x F!Reader

Summary — Your unexpected meeting with the famous art collector takes a dark turn when you learn the secret of his private collection.

Warnings — oral (female receiving), dismembered bodies, disrespect to the dead, entrapment, plots of killing, serial killer vibes, Steve being a calm psycho. There may be more I haven't mentioned but please read with caution.

Word Count — 5.4K

A/N — Story #1 for my FREAKtober Fest. The fic was heavily inspired by the movie itself and House of Wax. I'm happy to finally explore Steve's character in writing and I must say, I enjoyed every bit of it. The title was taken from the song You.

Gif by the amazing @steve-kemp

Shout out to @vellicore and @sgt-seabass for bouncing ideas with me and being my beta.

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

They didn’t come.

It was all you could think about as almost 2 hours had passed since your grad show started. Despite your parents’ — mostly your mom’s — disapproval of pursuing an arts program, you still invited them to the show. You hoped that if they saw what you were truly doing, they would understand your passion for paints and charcoal.

But it was a long shot, and you knew that. Though at least you tried…right?

You envy your classmates who carry bouquets while they present their artwork to their families and strangers alike. You were lucky enough to have a few come by your cubicle, delighted to explain the medium and process of your work. Some seemed genuinely intrigued while others, you can tell, only came by and endured your talk for the free stickers you offered at the end of your spiels.

Another hour passes by and you look up front when you hear an announcement being made by your instructor; a class photo. You’re reluctant to join, seeing no value in such a thing to be done as it’s obvious that once the day ends, they will be strangers once again. But another adamant call from your instructor has you heading to the front, a frown forming on your face when you’re pushed at the back, towered by your classmates—unseen once more. 

As parents and several others grab the opportunity to take a photo, your eyes suddenly divert back to your cubicle when you see someone looking over at your main art piece. You can’t put a pin on his face but you know you’ve seen him before. 

Once the group photo has ended, you immediately head back to your spot, catching the familiar stranger taking one of your stickers as well as a business card that sits beside it. It’s when you finally recognize him—and you’re in utter shock that he would be looking at your work. He finally notices you, a smile on his face as he holds out his hand. 

“Hi.” He begins, “I’m—”

“You’re Steve Kemp.” You finish for him, the confidence you suddenly displayed startling the both of you. But you push on when you see a smile of amusement on his face, taking his hand to shake. “You’re the famous art collector.” You wouldn’t have known it was him with how dressed down he looked with the corduroy jacket and navy jeans, but you’ve seen his face several times in art articles that you wouldn’t miss it.

“I wouldn’t say I’m famous.” He humbles himself but he lacks the conviction to make it believable. “I think I’m just skilled in finding pretty things—like this one.” He gestures towards your charcoal painting, the look of interest evident on his face. “What compelled you to incorporate a whale and an astronaut? What’s the story behind it?”

His question makes you smile. Maybe he is interested, you think to yourself and look towards your artwork before diving deep into your answer. 

“The artwork was inspired by the 52 Hertz Whale.” You begin. “Just to give you a little background; out of all the whale species, it’s the only one that makes a call with such a distinct pitch. Researchers had guessed that it could be a hybrid of two whale species but any attempts to search for the creature for further study have failed. Though some have been saying that it’s not a whale but an entirely different animal.

“Loneliness was the main theme of the piece—just like the whale, if it truly exists, it is alone in the vast sea; with no family to call its own and with it being different from the others, no one would listen or understand their cries. Akin to the lonely astronaut floating in the endless void of space. Though the flowers and the seagull represent hope and freedom—that one day, everything they thought to be true would change, that someone is there to listen and welcome them in their arms.”

You feel yourself shiver and your heart race as you end your interpretation. How the art piece truly mirrors your life and your cry for recognition from the people who truly matter. You try your best not to shed the tears that well in your eyes, presenting the collector with a smile and hoping he sees it as passion and confidence. 

But the look on his face startles you; there’s no judgment but you see a hint of amusement in his sapphire eyes. You think he’s about to say something, to comment on what you said, instead, he looks back at the artwork, seemingly appraising it. 

“How much?” The question stuns you. Did you hear correctly?

“I’m sorry?” 

“I want to buy your art piece.” He expounds. “How much are you selling it for?”

That’s the last thing you expected to be asked in a college grad show. Was he seriously wanting to purchase it? You try to answer, to tell him that you’re not really looking for buyers nor expecting to sell any of your work but no words come out of your mouth, still taken aback by his surprising inquiry.

“I don’t—” You stutter. “I’m not really—”

The chuckle he makes has you pulling on the cuffs of your oversized flannel, feeling slightly anxious at the thought that he’s making fun of your state of shock. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He says with a smile, one that you mimic if only to ease the tension building within you. “But I am serious. I do want to buy it.”

Still, you don’t know what to say. Do you just give him an amount and call it a day?

“Why don’t you sit on it? Let’s say two days and I can give you a call for your price.” He holds up your business card between two fingers, the smile on his face turning into a playful smirk. “What do you say?”

Under-dressed.

Not that it was a concern you realistically should have but the patrons of the bar made you feel as such with the men clad in suit jackets and the women, either in dresses or whatever you call the style of attire that was classier than your hoodie-jeans-sneakers combo. At least you brought a coat—that’s fancy enough, right?

You nurse your Bellini cocktail and thumb through your phone while waiting for Steve, popping your conversation thread with him every second or two just to assure yourself that he confirmed, or rather, planned the night of drinks to discuss your “Lonely Whale” piece as he coined it. It seemed odd at first but his determination was what compelled you to agree to meet him. 

The hiss of the straw fills your ears as you suck the last dregs of your drink. You shouldn’t have come early, you tell yourself, then you wouldn’t need to order another glass to accompany you on your wait. 

“Need a top-up?” A familiar voice from behind startles you and you look up to see Steve, decorated in a maroon wool sweater and that tantalizing smile he seems to always have. “I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad coming here to this part of town.” He says as he takes a seat beside you in the booth. 

You scoot over to give him room, surprised that he didn’t take the one across from you. “Please, don’t be sorry. I wasn’t waiting long.” You assure him with a soft smile, tapping a finger on the rim of your glass. “The drink kept me company.”

“Are they any good?” He asks but he’s already called the attention of a server before you can even reply. He orders a Bloody Mary—quite peculiar, you think, but you’re not one to judge someone's preference. “And the lady will have another, please.” 

Silence envelops the both of you as you wait for the drinks to arrive, feeling shy and anxious when he rests his arm against the back of the booth and turns in his seat to face you. You’re not used to being seen yet here’s this man, well-known in the field you didn’t think to excel in giving you such unwarranted attention. 

“Uhmm, so I asked my instructor about the painting,” you begin as you try to break the ice, “and he said that—” but stop when he shakes his head and lets out a gentle laugh. 

You think he’s playing at your lack of knowledge of these types of transactions that it makes you second-guess your words. Maybe you should have come off more confident and prevented showing him an inkling of your cluelessness. But the smile he sends your way speaks of something different. There is no presence of ill-intent yet you still keep your guard up. 

“We can talk business later. I’d like to get to know the artist more first.” He says and for some reason, it could be how comfortable he seems to be around you, that you nod at his request, a soft smile forming on your lips. 

“Well, what do you want to know?”

Giggling. 

It’s been a while since you’ve done it but you guess after 4 glasses of the Bellini and a sip of his Bloody Mary, anyone would be in a lighter and more carefree mood. Just like how you are. 

The anxiety that filled you when you first walked into the bar seems non-existent with how well Steve carries a conversation. He listened to you complain and laughed at your sarcastic comments, throwing back another to keep the exchange alive. There was no dull moment to be recorded, only understanding when you shared the struggle of an art student living in a fast-paced environment. He’s probably the first person in your life who knows almost everything there is to know about you and even if he is a total stranger, he feels more familiar than any other. 

The night rolls by quicker than you’d hoped and the next thing you know you’re in his car, the alcohol messing with you as you begin belting out garbled lyrics to an Adele song. You’ve never felt so free and relaxed, and who would have thought you’d find it in someone who simply wants to buy your art project? 

You arrive shortly at your apartment building, a curious thought passing through your head as you don’t recall typing in your address in the GPS. But it goes just as quickly as it came when the passenger door is opened and Steve holds out a hand to help you out. 

He says your name, the syllables rolling like honey on his tongue and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the way the moon shines against his face, but you truly notice how his sapphire eyes glow brighter with how close he stands to you, his cologne permeating your senses and his warmth mixing with yours, keeping away the cold autumn breeze of the night that surrounds the both of you. 

“I had a lovely evening.” He breathes, allowing him to take your hand in his. “And I don’t want it to end just yet.”

And it doesn’t. 

You invite Steve into your apartment for coffee, something to help completely sober him up and drive home safe. But as soon as you close the door and toe off your shoes, his hands are on your face and his lips capture yours, a soft grunt escaping you when he presses you against the door. You’re too stunned to process that he’s kissing you, only finally realizing it when he breaks the kiss and looks at you with his eyes so blue. 

You think he’s about to speak, to apologize for his forwardness, but instead he smiles while his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek. You don’t understand what he sees in you to warrant such soft affection, or to even consider you as someone to kiss. 

He leans closer once more, this time you sense the apprehension in his movements and with the way his eyes linger on your face. You shut your brain off completely, not wanting reason and rationality to stop whatever force that was pulling you together. So you meet him halfway, hands resting against his chest when you press your lips against his, a moan escaping you as when you feel him pull you further into the kiss. 

To say he was a good kisser was an understatement with the way his wet muscle caressed your own and how his lips wrestle you into a passionate exchange. He chuckles when he bumps against a side table while walking backwards, blindly into the living room, hands pawing at each other, groping, touching, and you lift up his sweater as the desire to feel his skin blooms in your head. 

But he doesn’t give you that chance as you drop back onto your loveseat couch, Steve’s hands pushing up your hoodie to expose the tank top hidden within. His fingers tickle your skin, teasing, taunting, and in one swift move he pulls down the cups of your bra having your tits spill out from them. 

Mewls and moans are the only sounds that leave your lips, coherent words nonexistent with how his lips wrap around a mound, sucking, licking, and dampening the fabric to expose your stiff nipples which he gives his undivided attention to. You try to reach for him, to at least make sure that this is all real and not a dream, but his hands take yours, preventing you from even running your finger through his dark hair, the act only heightening your senses further. 

But his venture to your breasts eventually stops and you look down at him when he trails butterfly kisses against your stomach, hands releasing yours only to undo the button and fly of your jeans. The garment flies but your panties stay, and you swear you could almost combust just from the way he looks at you—his eyes swirling with hunger, eagerness, and desperation for a taste. 

Slowly, he trails kisses against your inner thighs, lips, and teeth meeting skin, not hard enough to hurt but enough to feel. The nervousness swirls around you like twine, making your heart beat loudly against your chest as everything feels too new, too alien, despite this no longer being your first. But you’ve never encountered anyone as captivating as Steve and you feel as if he would run away once he sees you completely. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers into the air, his warm breath grazing against your heated core. 

It’s only then you comprehend what he’s done, your panties pushed to the side to expose you completely before him and all at once you feel your body burn when he laves his tongue against your pussy lips, gentle at first, testing the waters which shift to intent as he pushes them apart with his fingers, your sacred bud caressed by his expert tongue. 

You whisper his name as he begins delving into your pussy, strong hands keeping your thighs apart and pushing them down against the couch with his groans of pleasure filling your ears and fueling your desire for him. You reach down to run your fingers through his hair which you end up grabbing as a gasp is pulled from your lungs when he begins to suck your clit. 

The room feels like it's spinning with the ecstasy that climbs higher within your body, your senses no longer feeling like your own as Steve pushes on with his pursuit, his mouth dancing beautifully against your clit, his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. But he stops, and a small wave of panic arises in your chest. Though it washes away like footprints on the sand when he ventures lower, his thumb taking purchase of your clit, rolling and adding pressure while his mouth ventures lower, teasing your slit at first before slowly pushing inside. 

Oh, how your body sings. Your back arches from the coach and you call out his name, louder this time, turning into a moaning mess as his regard to your cunt never wavers. You then feel the dam filling up at the pit of your stomach and all you can do is buck your hips against his mouth, encouraging—no—pushing him to pull you over the edge. 

“Steve—” It’s all you manage to say, your breath catching in your throat. 

His actions then become erratic, as if he can feel you teetering towards your peak, pulling you more to his mouth and devouring you whole. Sloppy, wet sounds of his mouth echo from below your waist, Steve letting out a low and guttural growl which only sets you ablaze. His thumb pushes more onto your clit, the pressure digging into your pelvis and finally having the dam at the pit of your abdomen burst.

Your body shakes and you grab onto Steve as your pussy walls flutter from your release, choking a sob as your sweet essence flows out of you. His awaiting mouth then laps each and every drop you offer, the sensation making you shiver yet at the same time cocoons you in euphoric bliss. 

The alcohol in your system then appears, mixing with the pleasure that continues to loom around you, and your eyes begin to droop, a smile forming on your lips. Your limbs ache deliciously, cunt buzzing from the orgasm that has taken over. You feel tired all of a sudden but happy at the same time and you forget all, even Steve, as you’re ready to end the night with such a good note. 

But a tap on your thigh pulls you from the serene moment, startling slightly to see Steve looking down at you with a grin painted on his face. “Stay awake, Baby.” He says, his hand running up your side and grabbing the hem of your hoodie. “I’m not yet done with you.”

Nervous.

It’s all you feel as you stand outside of Steve’s home—if you could even call it that. With the modern exterior and floor-to-ceiling windows of the one-story home, you’d think you’re about to enter a museum. But it’s only reasonable for him to have such a lavish abode; he is an art collector after all. 

“You okay?” You turn your head to the side to face him when he stands beside you, his warmth brushing against your skin as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close.

“A bit—but more excited really.” You tell him, the giddiness of seeing his private collection dominating the restlessness you felt earlier. 

“Only the people who matter have seen it.” The smile he gives you is so contagious that you give one back and follow him inside his home.

After the night spent at your apartment, your life slowly revolved around Steve. Mornings begin and nights end with him and his attentiveness—one that you found more endearing than suffocating, as what some people you assume would say if they knew of your relationship. 

You don’t even know if you both have a relationship as neither of you discussed anything about labels, simply enjoying each other’s company. But you know that Steve has rooted himself deep in you, and you know that no matter how hard you try if anything comes that would sever you both, you’d have a hard time letting him go. Steve is the only one who has truly seen you and accepted you as you are.

A chill brushes your skin when you pass through the threshold of his home which has you pulling your knitted jacket more around your frame for warmth, and the first thing you see are the gallery lights mounted on the wall, with each one shining down on art pieces of different forms. The ones that stand by the door are wax figures of a woman’s pair of legs, one on each side. You look at it closely, the craftsmanship so intricate that you’d think it was real. The ones that come after it are different sets of arms and hands of women, again, each one posed differently and elegantly, as if welcoming you further down the hall.

It gives you pause with how unusual of a collection it is—women’s body parts—but you suppose that the world of art is filled with oddities. There was even one you heard who collects glass eyeballs, not caring if it was worn or not.

What greets you next are several paintings—if you can even call it as such—that litter the wall just the same, though you’ve never seen anything like it; one is of a canvas that houses different strands of hair that form into waves. You’re in awe with how they mimic the raging seas and how detailed and time consuming it must have been to complete. There’s even an image of a boat topped over it, as you inspect closely, you assume is made of leather. 

There’s another like it, though this seemed more like a showcase of all types of tresses, spaced out perfectly in rows of five. Each one portrayed a distinct person, with colors ranging from blonde to black and textures from curly to the straightest you’ve seen. The urge to touch it grows strong, wanting to check if they’re real or not.

“They’re real,” Steve answers your unspoken question, and you turn back to face him, feeling shy all of a sudden when you see him staring at you. “I call it live art.”

“You made this?”

“Oh, no.” He smiles as he nears the artwork, Steve’s hands tucked inside his pockets while he looks up at it. “I had it made. Though I did provide the materials—volunteers donated the hair.” His explanation has you thinking; you never knew people would donate something so personal for art. “I’m hoping to add more to the collection—a prized one that can be my center of attention.” He says and you catch him looking at you from your periphery. 

“What kind of prized piece?” You ask, curiosity nipping at the back of your head. 

“Something I could never get tired of looking at.” The smile he gives you sends a chill up your spine but your mind flows out into a daze when he steps forward and takes your face between his hands, his lips meeting yours in a soft kiss. “Like you.” He whispers and you can’t help but feel your face heat up with how beautiful he makes you feel. 

“Come on. There’s more in the living room and I wanted to show you where I would place your painting.” He says, giving you one last kiss before taking your hand and leading further inside. But you don’t miss the piece that sits just at the end of the hall; a torso of a woman, the composition almost similar to Alexndros’ Venus de Milo, except this one was missing its head. 

The living room is a sunken living room and it’s just as exquisite as the front of the house with paintings and figurines scattered in an organized fashion. Two couches sit on either side of a low table with a small cart that holds an array of spirits. You look around, mesmerized at the beauty he keeps within but stop when you notice a small greek style column sitting in the corner of the room. 

“What’s that?” You ask, pointing at the unusual fixture. 

“That’s just a chair a friend of mine made.” He responds while pouring the both of you some drinks. “It’s pretty cozy even if it’s made out of stone. Why don’t you try it out? Pretend you’re an art piece.” He urges and the giddiness you feel allows you to humor him. 

Soft jazz music then begins to play as you run your hand against the top, having a feel of the material before you take a seat, grabbing onto the sides to properly set yourself on top of it. The smile you catch on Steve’s face is wide as he approaches you and hands you your drink, his hand reaching up to caress your face. 

“You look perfect on it.” He sips on his drink and so do you. 

You can’t help but look at his eyes, how soft they look yet full of amidst the muted lighting that surrounds the both of you. You feel his hands continue to linger on your skin, resting gently on your shoulder with his thumb caressing the expanse of your neck. 

“Dance with me.” 

It’s all he says and you don’t have time to respond when he takes the glass from your grasp, setting both of them on the shelf that stands nearby and he reaches for you, his hands taking yours and placing them over his shoulders while his own finds purchase around your waist.

It feels like you’re walking on clouds with how he sways the both of you, his movements in sync with the music that fills the air. He holds you close, feeling his fingers drumming lightly on your back and how your feet follow him aimlessly, blindly with each step he makes. You’re suddenly aware of the intimacy that slowly winds the both of you, much different from the times he’s slept on your bed, and you feel shy, eyes casting down to stare at the edge of his navy turtleneck.

“Don’t hide from me, Baby,” He breathes softly, tilting your head back when he pinches your chin and feeling the warmth of his breath ghost against your lips. “I want to see you.”

Giddy.

It’s the only feeling you describe as soon as you wake up, your body sore but in a good way and the sheets atop the mattress warm, not just because of you but from the man that sleeps soundly at your side. You turn to face Steve and examine his face, his beautiful pointed nose and his dark hair askew from the pillow underneath his head. 

You couldn’t believe your luck that someone like him would find interest in someone like you. You must have done something good in your previous life to feel such happiness that the neglect and disapproval you once received from the people you expected to love you is being provided by someone you’ve barely known for a week. 

Good things come to an end, you hear the pessimist in you say but you push it down, deep down where you cannot hear its cry. You’re going to enjoy this, whatever this is, and if time comes that it should indeed come to a stop—well, you’ll cross the bridge when you get there. 

You move to cuddle closer to Steve, wanting to feel more of his warmth but it’s interrupted by your need for relief that you settle on placing a kiss on his forehead before turning to leave the bed and find the restroom.

Washing your hands when you finish, you find a robe hanging at the back of the door and boldly take it, putting it around you to shield you from the cold that continues to circulate within the house and venture back to his room—back to Steve’s arms. Except the lone light that shines in the darkness catches your eyes and you glance towards the bedroom. You don’t want to be caught snooping but the call of the void is too strong for you to ignore. 

Silently, you pad down the hall and find yourself face to face with a staircase that leads to a closed door. Must be the basement, you think to yourself, taking one step at a time, you descend to your destination. You hesitate to hold the knob, not wanting to spoil your welcome but you soldier on, pushing through the barrier. 

A row of yellow muted light illuminates the entryway, and you see nothing but several black barrels neatly pushed against the wall and a few scrubs hanging from mounted hooks. You thought you would see more artwork but are left disappointed, deciding to turn back but the white light at the end of the room stops you, curiosity once more taking over your senses.

Fear then grips you tight when you step into the light, hands flying to your mouth and a gasp unwillingly escaping you when you see a woman laid down on a metal table with her lower half missing and her head free of her scalp. What hangs on the wall makes your stomach turn even further, body parts—arms, legs and a severed head coated in something you can only assume to be wax.

You run. Your heart beats hard against your chest as you make it back again to the door and close it as quietly as you can, not wanting to awaken your host—a monster you never thought him to be. Carefully, though quickly, you climb the steps and the only thing you could think of is to leave and run as far as you can where he cannot find you. 

Relief slowly washes over you when you get to the last step. Now all you have to do is go—call the authorities and—your thoughts take a dive when you feel someone grab you by the waist, trapping your arms along with it and a hand covering over your mouth as well as your nose.

“Where were you, Baby?” Steve’s calm voice forms from behind and your panic only rises further. You struggle against his hold, flailing as much as you can for him to let you go but he’s too strong and you feel the tears spill from your eyes as you think that this is the end. He’s caught you. You’re going to die. 

“You never should have seen that.” He simply says and you grunt when a stabbing pain forms on your neck, a cool sensation flowing through your veins. 

It’s then that he lets you go, your hand flying to where you felt the sting before turning to look at him. What did he do to you? You notice the syringe in his hand. Is it poison? Your vision almost instantly goes blurry, your limbs heavy and you drop to the floor, eyes cast to the ceiling as you try to make out your current state. The last thing you see is Steve, a sinister smile on his face and incoherent words coming from his lips before everything goes dark. 

You’re dead.

It’s the first thing that comes to your mind when you come to. Everything slowly comes into clarity; the room you’re in is somewhere you’ve not been and the cool metal you feel around your ankle only solidifies the fact that he’s successfully trapped you in the hell he dwells in.

A door opens and closes and you curl up small on the bed you lay in to hide yourself from him. You’re crying once again a multitude of emotions surge from within—is it fear? Hopelessness? Anger? Towards him for lying to you or to yourself for believing him. 

“I never wanted you to find out this way.” He sighs. “I never wanted you to find out at all.”

“Are you going to kill me?” You can’t help but ask, even though you know what the answer is.

“Not yet.” His calm in his voice brings a chill to your spine. “Despite what you believe, I meant what I said; you matter to—”

“Stop lying to me!” You shout and sit up from the bed, grabbing the pillow on the bed and throwing it at him. “Why are you doing this?! What did I do to deserve this?! Why me?!” You shout, the anger that was settling in your bones turns into a raging fire. You go to lunge for him, wanting to rip his skin with your bare hands but the cuff on your foot stops you, making you fall to the ground in front of him. 

He tuts and you see his leather shoes in front of you. A groan then leaves your tongue when he grabs you by your face, your hand taking hold of his wrist as you try to pull away from him. But he only pinches tighter, making you shout in pain that fades all too quickly when he shakes you and makes you face him dead in the eyes.

“The more you fight, the harder it’ll be.” He snips. “I enjoy you a lot—don’t make me kill you so soon.”

“Just fucking do it!” You spit. “Do it! Kill me now!”

The laugh he gives you is menacing. He shakes his head, his other hand moving to run his finger on the side of your face. You see the darkness swirling around the sapphires of his eyes and you question yourself why, for the many times he’s stared at you, you’ve never seen it before. 

“Soon.” He promises. “For now, I’ll keep you. I don’t mind that column being empty just a little longer.”

[ymechi]

A brainrot suddenly came over me when reading your latest fic about lynette. You know that Freminette banner is now out right? What if he was added to mix of envy along with Lynette being the first to feel their Grace’s warmth. And now, there’s suddenly another sibling from her that can feel the creator’s warmth.

Just a brainrot that occured to me when reading your fic. BTW your writings are amazing!! Don’t pressure yourself to writing

- 🕰️

first off i want to start by thanking you when i read this i was screaming on the inside, i was so happy! I must apologize for writing so late i haven't been in the mood and there was school work to do (i should be doing that right now hehe;;; ) BTW I SOMEHOW GOT FREMINET IN HIS BANNER! So this is a really happy coincidence

hmm for the different character reactions I think for Lynette she would be glad for Freminet that hopefully he can get out of his shell a little more but there would also be some part that is selfish of her that wants to keep her grace's attention on her? Though she would hope that Lyney would become an acolyte as well so all three of them can be complete

Lyney would also be happy for Freminet thinking the same as Lynette that he hopefully can get out of his shell, he does wish the best for Freminet but i also see him as being envious, both of his siblings now are acolytes and it's only him left behind, the same situation in the past where his sister got a vision first (( Poor Lyney i have shit luck with 5 stars it is unlikely he will ever come home to me :') ))

Also for Arlecchino the fact that HER kids are now acolytes she is just smug i can imagine but also a bit worried about the bad attention they can receive but i think she trusts them enough they can handle themselves, though there is a part of her that is bitter she can't be chosen by her grace, perhaps she is too jaded and cracked at the edges compared to her children who still has their future ahead of themselves

previous parts:

rant , lynette meeting the tsaritsa

In Fonntaine much recent gossip has been keeping the city folks chattering and even those living outside of it. The newspapers are eagerly typing about the recent happenings and editors hurrying to work before publishing the news. It seems that another child from *the* House of Hearth had become an acolyte much to the shock of the general citizenry.

The chosen one was none other than Freminet the diving prodigy. Once the divers heard of the news and others in the field knew about it cheers erupted in the taverns.

Said person in question was not seen there.

Rumors have it that a certain pink-haired reporter has been pestering the House of Hearth for days now to get a glimpse of the person but to no avail.

Said person was inside his room, the wooden walls sheltering him from the chatter of the outside world. There he sat in the bed seemingly calm on the outside but on the inside was a different matter. His heart was beating so fast and he knew the slight flush on his cheeks betrayed his fake calm visage.

In his lap he held a book, it was old and worn yet well taken care of. All children in Fontaine around his age have had this book and read it. Freminet remembers the first time he got his hand on the book. He held it softly in fear he might damage the beautiful cover, in awe at the drawings and tales inside of it.

The tales of the creator. While it was a religious text it was watered down with illustrations accompanying it so children would be able to read and understand its contents.

The "old father" was adamant that every child was acquainted with the religious text of the creator and made them read many books on the subject. As they aged this book became unnecessary for when he had to read the thicker and more complex books but Freminet was unable to let go of this book.

Even now he loved to read the tales of acolytes long gone before the time of the oldest archon. The golden swirls and hues of the elements that would surround the creator being depicted in the pictures captured younger Freminet.

Yet now the tales that seemed almost like fiction were becoming true. Now he was an acolyte. He did not know if it terrified him or delighted him.

Would he be able to measure up? Was he enough? Why was he chosen when there were more brilliant and capable people (a selfish part wanted to reject the notion of another being chosen).

Another part of him was delighted. His heart beat as he felt himself being enveloped by warm waters. This was their creator's blessing and he was chosen to get it. Perhaps it would all be fine after all, Freminet thought as the warmth enveloped him in a comforting embrace.

. . .

Lynette pov:

Lynette blew on the hot tea as she took a sip. Besides her Lyney was working on- or well rather trying to work on a new magic trick. Lynette knew her brother and she also knew what caused his frustration as of recently. Yet trying to cheer him up would only be hypocritical of her.

"Maybe you should take a break?"

Lyney did not answer but rather made a huff and continued to tinker on his project. Lynette sighed.

Ever since Freminet was called to the creator's side Lyney has been in a tense mood. He became too frustrated with small mistakes and spent longer time honing his skills. Lynette was worried he would over-exhaust himself.

What could she say though to ease his heart?

Who the creator chose and when was unpredictable, many scholars has tried to see a pattern, see a reason, or even a hint of a formula to no avail. The creator did not discriminate or favor any specific group on whom they summoned and Lynette was witness to that as a member of the fatui and a recent acolyte. There was at least some hope for her brother if she and Freminet were summoned.

A selfish part of her that she would never listen to or admit was how she wanted her grace's attention only on her.

For now, she would wait and see hopefully soon their grace would summon Lyney soon.

. . .

Arlecchino pov:

The fire in the office crackled warming the room and its lone occupant. The letter she received laid on the table as she looked out the snowy scenery outside the window.

It seems another one of her children has become an acolyte.

From the reflection of the window Alrecchino could see her face was donning a smug smirk. She turned around and went back to her desk, a congratulations was in order and she would need to inform the Tsaritsa as well. Arlecchino would need to be delicate when informing her Majesty unless she heard the news already. She would have to tell the pair to be careful it would not do to have an envious archon's gaze.

She tried to erase her own envy from her gaze as well but the reflection in the window said otherwise.

. . .

Extra Freminet birthday bonus:

A package had arrived on the mail addressed to the House of Hearth. At first there was nothing off with the package, many had taken to send Freminet a birthday present as congratulatory gift for becoming an acolyte and gaining his favour. Freminet ignored those, he had no reason to accept or reply those superficial gifts. That was until he saw the symbol and lettering on the package and he almost dropped it in panic.

Now all three siblings were staring at the package in serious contemplation. It was rectangular and had simple packaging it looked rather unassuming as it laid on the table where they put it.

There was one neat card that gave away its significance. The symbol usually associated with the creator was neatly stamped and ancient lettering was on the card. What added further proof to the fact was that both Freminet and Lynette could feel the power of the creator, although faint, imbued within the package.

"Do we wait for father?" Freminet quietly said.

"I think it is your choice Freminet, this is addressed to you," Lyney answered.

"I agree with Lyney on this one, the creator gave this to you for a reason."

Freminet thought about it and a large part of him wanted to take the package and open it another screamed at him to wait, what right did he have to open a gift from the creator.

The curious more selfish part won over and he took hold of the package. The siblings held their breath as Freminet carefully opened the present taking care not to tear the wrapping.

What he did not expect was an inconspicuous book that looked like a fairytale book.

Oh.

Freminet blushed.

Lynette looked at it curiously and Lyney who had an idea had a teasing smile on his face.

Freminet held the book carefully as if anything might damage the book. It would be the best to find a good chest to store it in.

.

.

.

Deep into the night he would trace the illustrations and memorize the words as the moonlight shone on him. The wrapping paper and card were safely tucked inside of his desk.

[jophiel-extras]

Hi hello! I would love an Aziraphale x reader first time kissing fic

Thanks a lot!❤️

summary :: after spotting Adam and Eve in the garden with their romances, you decide to bug Aziraphale on the details

warning :: none, fluff!!

note :: takes place somewhere during the start of Eden. Loooveee angel reader fics

From the Heavens, you watched over God’s new creation with an intrigued delight. For some time, you’d been observing the “humans,” (if you remembered correctly) and their marital love.

God had called them wife and husband, Adam and Eve. You adored their interactions, practically feeling the love they shared between themselves. It filled you with glee and possibly, a bit of envy. The envy being something you suppressed to no end.

When you weren’t observing from the Heavens, you were observing from the Eastern gate, alongside your companion Aziraphale who loved your visits, though often wondered if they were permitted.

Hours you’d sit in comfortable silence, watching the two humans live in blissful harmony.

Hugging was something you saw often, both in heaven and on earth. Angels were no strangers to affection, neither were you and Aziraphale who often shared warm hugs filled with ethereal love. So the sight of it from the humans never crossed your mind as ‘new’ or ‘innovative’.

“Aziraphale, do you think God will make any more?” You asked, seated over the ledge into Eden.

“No, no, remember? This is a breeding pair.” He explained.

“Oh. Right,” You pondered it for a moment, then asked; “what does breeding mean?”

Aziraphale thought on it for a minute. “I’m not quite sure.”

Kicking your hanging legs back and forth, your eyes laid perfectly on the couple embracing in the garden. Only, this time it were their lips that embraced. You had gasped, fluttering to your feet and pulling at Aziraphale’s robes.

“Look! Look what they’re doing now!” You pointed.

“Oh yes, well, that’s new.” Aziraphale muttered.

Flittering for a minute, you inspected the love they shared in this new embrace of the lips. You watched as they melted into one another, eyes closed to focus purely on the touch of the other. The way they bonded from it, love renewed with a new form of affection. Excited from the prospect, you blurted;

“Aziraphale, we should give it a go.”

“Pardon?”

“Let’s do what they’re doing, with their mouths.” You pointed eagerly to the pair, who’s lips still latched onto one another. Aziraphale’s eyes darted between the pair, yourself and occasionally your lips.

“But- but why would we do that?” He asked.

“Why not?” Your logic was solid, Aziraphale couldn’t argue with that.

“Uhm,” a few more hasty looks and Aziraphale caved to your excited plea, “well I suppose we could give it a go.”

You’d given Adam and Eve one more quick look for reference before placing your lips onto Aziraphale’s (who seemed to be bracing for the impact) gently. Aziraphale then learned how sweet an Angel’s kiss could be.

The tight bracing became soft, and suddenly Aziraphale was acutely aware of butterflies that flew within his stomach, the tingle that zapped his hands and feet and most notably, the hot swelling that turned his cheeks red.

Your lips were gone all too soon before Aziraphale could pick up anymore effects he had felt. The new feeling soon fizzled as your lips left him, but the bashfulness stayed.

For once, Aziraphale felt deaf on words. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I liked that, what did you think?” You asked.

“Good, yes, jolly good.” Aziraphale said, awkwardly tittering over his words.

“Let’s try again. Longer this time.”

[sydsaint]

Working on a survivor series fic for the trio so have this to tide y'all over until then.

Summary: Adam Pearce enlists the help of the Smackdown GM and her trio of boyfriends to handle Rhea Ripley and The Judgment Day.

You're sitting in your office enjoying lunch while answering a few work emails when someone knocks on the door.

"Come in." You call out, mouth half-full of food. "Adam? I wasn't expecting to see you today, Pearce. Did I miss an email about a meeting or something?" You swallow your food and glance at your laptop.

"No, no meeting." Pearce shakes his head and shuts the door behind him. "I saw you come in early and was hoping that we could chat. If you're not busy, of course." He explains.

You gesture to the empty seat in front of Adam and he takes a seat. You push your laptop off to the side of your desk and turn your attention to your fellow general manager. "I'm just having lunch, nothing important. So, what's up?" You ask him.

"Well, Y/N, if I'm being completely honest with you, I have a favor to ask of you." Pearce gets straight to the point.

"Oh?" You reply, curiosity piqued. "Alright, what can I do for you?" You ask him.

Pearce hesitates for a moment, unsure if he even wants to ask you for help. But he needs it. So he swallows his pride and gets to his point.

"I'm sure that you've been at least keeping up with Raw these past few months since I took over?" Pearce asks you and you nod. "Well, then you must know that Rhea Ripley and the rest of Judgment Day have been causing me grief." He adds.

"Oh yeah, I don't envy you there, Pearce." You tease him lightheartedly. "Kind of makes you miss dealing with Roman's BS, doesn't it?" You laugh.

Pearce lets out a small chuckle and shakes his head. "Not a chance in hell." He smiles at you. "But back to my point. I know that this must sound terribly desperate and in poor taste on my part. But, to be frank? I'm out of options."

"Alright." You nod. "So, what do you need me for?" You urge your colleague to get to the point already.

"Y/N, I'm here to ask if you'd consider helping me in handling Rhea and the rest of Judgement Day," Pearce explains.

Your eyebrows raise a bit in surprise. "Help you how exactly, Adam?" You prompt him.

"Rhea is the main problem that I'm facing, but as a man, there's only so much I can do when it comes to her behavior. But if a woman was to confront her. Specifically one in a position of power equal to my own. Then I believe that I might have a better chance of reigning her in." He explains.

"So essentially you want me to come over to Raw and put Ripley in her place?" You clarify for yourself. "Knock her down a beg so she's not such a pain in the ass for you all the time?"

Pearce nods and confirms your clarification. You study his face and can tell that there's something more that he'd like to ask you.

"Yes, essentially," Adam confirms. "I was also hoping that you might enlist a certain trio to aid with Damian, Finn, Dominik, and JD." He adds suggestively.

"Right." You crack a smile. "Well, you do seem desperate coming to me for help." You tease Pearce with a smile. "So, I'd love to help out, Adam."

Pearce seems slightly surprised by your willingness to help him out. "Really? Thank you, Y/N." He smiles eagerly at you.

"Of course, Adam. What are friends for? Just let me make a quick phone call." You pick up your phone and dial a number. "Hey, yeah I know I'm at work right now. Listen, I need you to come down to my office right now...Yes for work." You roll your eyes. "Mhm, and bring the two stooges with you. Alright, thanks. Mhm, love you too, bye."

You hang up the phone and turn back to Adam waiting patiently for your conversation to continue. "They'll be here soon." You inform him.

"That fast?" Adam replies.

"What can I say?" You giggle. "They're good boys. Always come when called." You joke.

You chat with Pearce for a while and finish up your lunch. Then, around half an hour later, a knock sounds at the door again.

"Come in!" You shout and turn your attention to the door.

"I grabbed Waller and Theory from the gym. So what's up sweetheart? What did you need all three of us for?" Knight walks into the room first and is quick to spot Adam sitting behind the desk with you. "What's Pearce doing here?"

You wait for Grayson and Austin to both file into the room after Knight. Austin shuts the door behind him and the two turn their attention on you before you speak up.

"Thank you for getting here so fast, Shaun, sweetie. And picking up Gray and Austin for me." You thank him with a smile.

"Yeah, no problem, hun." Knight nods. "So, are you going let us in on what you've got going on here?" He asks you.

Austin and Grayson share a small look before they both nod in agreement with Knight. "Yeah, what's he doing here?" Grayson points a finger at Pearce.

"It's a pleasure seeing you all again." Pearce nods to everyone.

"Pearce and I were just having lunch and discussing some business." You begin to explain the situation. "Adam has been having some trouble with Rhea Ripley and the Judgment Day. And he's requested our, or rather, my help. So, you three are coming to Raw this Monday with me. I'm going to handle Rhea, and you three are going to help Pearce with the rest of her entourage." You explain.

Knight, Waller, and Theory all turn to one another and share a few glances before they all turn back to you and Pearce. "What if we're busy on Monday?" Grayson asks.

"You're not." You reply plainly. "I have all three of your work schedules. And I also know your personal plans for the rest of the month." You remind them. "Austin has a mandatory physical next Wednesday. And Shaun has a PR thing on Tuesday. Besides that? The three of you are mine to order around."

"Well, she's got us there." Knight chuckles. "We'd be happy to help out, Y/N, of course." He grins at you.

You nod and turn to Pearce. "Well then, it looks like we've got a deal then, Adam." You reach out to shake his hand. "We can discuss the details of our little arrangement later. But for now, I'll be seeing you on Monday in Kansas City." You shake his hands firmly.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Y/N." Pearce nods. "I look forward to seeing you all on Monday." He adds before he makes his swift exit from your office.

The door clicks shut and the onslaught of questions starts to pour in. "What did he mean by arrangement?" Austin asks you.

"Just a little trade we've got going on. Nothing you three need to worry about." You reply.

"How are you planning on handling Rhea?" Grayson asks you. "I mean, if Pearce can't keep her in line?"

You smile to yourself and laugh a little. "Oh, I've got my ways." You assure Waller. "Rhea won't be a problem for Adam anymore when I'm done with her, trust me."

"Which one of us are you planning on traveling with this time?" Knight asks his own question.

You shrug and glance at your laptop when it pings with a new message. "Probably you so I don't have to share a room with those two again." You tease Grayson and Austin. "They get all possessive when it comes to who gets to share the bed with me." You giggle. 

"Now hold on a second." Grayson protests.

"Yeah! We can get along for the night." Austin agrees. "Why don't you travel with us, Y/N?" He whines with Grayson.

You roll your eyes playfully and shake your head. "You two also get up to the most nonsense when you're on the road." You remind them. "And I don't need distractions when I'm trying to work?"

"Oh, so I'm not a distraction now?" Knight chimes in.

"You're plenty distracting, sweetie." You reply. "Just in a different way." You assure him. "Now all of you out! I've got another meeting soon." You usher the trio toward the door.

Austin, Grayson, and Knight all nod and head for the door, knowing better than to interfere with work. "We'll see you later, Y/N." Knight waves before he steps out the door.

"Yeah, take care, babe," Austin adds.

"We'll see you later, gorgeous." Grayson winks at you.

[again-and-then]

part one of several, my redesigns/outfit edits of the Hazbin Cast as they appear in my Fanfic: Pride, Envy, Wrath.

my design commentary under the break.

going from Left to Right.

Lute: Classic Angel Lute design as she appears at the start of the fic. fairly unchanged from her canon appearance (my style just has some more notable curves.) She's picked up a new silver arm as is a pretty common fandom prediction but in my tale, Lute takes up Adam's old guitar in place of her sword. Just felt right, even if i hate drawing that fucking thing.

Alternate Lute: spoilers I guess, but this will be the look Lute opts for much later into the Fic. You can guess at what went down to lose her wings and Halo... she will be working for the Hotel eventually, but it has no official uniform, so I think Lute would opt for something official looking but styled off Charlie's outfit and color scheme as its Charlie's Hotel. I will admit, Lute's new fit is heavily inspired by Helltaker outfits, particularly Justice and Malina. its just good fashion.

Vaggie: Vaggie's design is one that I think is honestly pretty good, she had a unique silhouette and a cute outfit. Mostly all I've gone is give the girl the curves she deserved, particularly in the hip department... and cute new boots :]

Charlie: I adore Charlie, her new design for the show was what sold me Hazbin Hotel as I thought her old pilot look was.. pretty not great. I really didn't want to make any drastic changes beyond some color changes (her old undershirt seemed to imply a white button up but red cuffs? the fuck girl.) a lot of people have really unique ideas when it comes to Charlie redesigns but they all lean towards making her more obviously inhuman... which she isn't human, but i feel that misses the mark. its personally been my opinion that Charlie's primary form is entirely by choice, she wants to look human to seem more appealing to the former humans around her.

Husk:... Husk, oh Husk. one of my favorite characters, one of my absolute least favorite designs. Fucking Hell. I will fight Vivziepop personally to get her to stop adding minature top hats and bowties to every other goddamn character. also, think about Husk without fur. man is going bare chested, wearing a child's top hat, a bowtie, baggy pants with suspenders and no goddamn shoes. I get pathetic drunk is the idea, but give the man an ounce of dignity. if we must keep the top hat, then make it big enough to be used as a magician's top hat and get his fucking hand in. Also, a shirt. was that so hard? I don't care if his fur has little dots that look like buttons.

[stitched-mouth-vs-the-world]

Welcome to Stitched's first Kinktober! I'm very excited to share what's in my drafts as I am very proud of myself for once. Chapters will be posted midday (BST) everyday, chapters that have been missed thanks to Tumblr will be posted today as soon as I can. If you can’t wait go to my Wattpad or AO3. Here's a run down of what to expect in this book:

Day 1: Master’s Whore (Creampie Kink)

Summary: Vincent Phantomhive fucks his maid just a room over from his 'happy' family.

Vincent Phantomhive x Fem! Maid! Reader (Fic)

Day 2: Making Porn With The Number One Pro Hero (Amateur Porn)

Summary: You had a sex dream about your boyfriend, the Number One Hero, All Might wants to make that fantasy a reality after you punch another All Might slut in the face.

All Might x Younger Fem! Pro-Hero! Reader (Fic)

Day 3:  Being FWB With Ramona Flowers (Casual Sex)

Summary: Imagine being FWB with Ramona Flowers.

Ramona Flowers x GN! Reader (Headcannons)

Day 4:  Before Her Show (Behind The Scenes Fucking / Affair)

Summary: Imagine secretly banging the World's biggest singer.

Envy Adams x Scott's Sibling! GN! Reader (Imagine)

Day 5:  Mommy’s Sweet Praises (Praise Kink)

Imagine Layla El Faouly with a major Praise kink.

Layla El Faouly x GN! Reader (Imagine)

Day 6: In The Dark Of The Night (Demon Fucking)

Summary: After arriving at and joining a Covent you so didn't want to join, Valak takes an unusual liking to you.

Valak x Nun! Fem! Reader (Fic)

Day 7: Just For Research (First Time)

Summary: When Rick discovers his top student is a virgin, he knows he must change that so she can write her paper on human pheromones.

Rick Sanchez x College Student! GN! Reader (Fic)

Day 8: Inappropriate Workplace Behaviour (Office Sex / Boss x Employee)

Summary: Lord Death can't stop jacking off to his decades younger secretary.

Lord Death x Younger! Secretary! Fem! Reader (Fic)

Day 9:  Naughty Girls Are Punished (Spanking)

Summary: Georgia decides to teach her mischievous girlfriend a lesson.

Dom! Georgia Miller x Fem! Reader (Imagine)

Day 10:  Hot Ice (Temperature Play)

Summary: Nadia has always liked ice. It was always nice to crunch down on after a cigarette and you liked how cold it made her mouth feels. So by accident one nice, it joins you two in the bedroom.

Nadia Vulvokov x Fem! Reader (Imagine)

Day 11:  Revenge, You Thought (Bondage)

Summary: John enjoys teaching his naughty little thing a lesson and you enjoy learning it.

John Brown x Fem! Reader (Imagine)

Day 12: Car Hookups (Car sex)

Summary: You and Oboro regularly meet up late in his car for sex.

College AU! Oboro Shirakumo x GN! Reader (Imagine)

Day 13: Pegging L Would Include… (Pegging)

Summary: You manage to convince L to part take in a kink you've been wanting to try out.

L x GN! Reader (Headcannons)

Day 14: Wet Fucking (Shower / Tub sex)

Summary: Whilst the Handler is away, you and Lila decide to make good use of the beautiful bathtub in the hotel.

Lila Pitts x Fem! Reader (Imagine)

Day 15:  Insatiable Needs (Marathon sex)

Summary: When Steve is unable to satisfy his new wife's insatiable needs, he calls a friend.

Estefania x Fem! Reader (Imagine)

Day 16: Mommy’s Baby (Lactation)

Summary: Carol's duty as a mother is to make sure her baby is always well feed. She's your Mommy now so she must make sure your well fed.

Carol from Cobweb x Fem! Reader (Fic)

Day 17: Bruno Needs A Spanking (Orgasm Denial)

Summary: Denying Bruno Madrigal an orgasm includes…

Bruno Madrigal x GN! Reader (Headcannons)

Day 18:  Slowly Stripping (Exhibition)

Summary: Julieta can't help but find something so hot about being fully nude in front of her lover.

Julieta Madrigal x GN! Reader (Headcannons)

Day 19: Choking and Gasping (Breath Play)

Summary: Morpheus discovers he loves the sound of hearing you struggle to breathe.

Dream x GN! Reader (Headcannons)

Day 20: Edge You To Death (Edging)

Summary: Undertaker enjoys ruining your orgasms.

Undertaker x Fem! Reader (Fic)

Day 21: (Nun Fucking)

Summary: Sister Irene teaches you a holy lesson.

Sister Irene x Fem! Reader (Fic)

Day 22: Only Good Girls Get To Cum (Mirror Sex)

Summary: Ming forces you to watch yourself fall apart from just her fingers, just so you know how much of and dirty girl you are.

Ming Lee x Fem! Reader (Imagine)

Day 23: Pegging Fantasy (Pegging)

Summary: Jaime tells you his biggest sex fantasy and you make it your mission to make it happen.

Jamie Reyes x Fem! Reader (Headcannons)

Day 24: Green Mommy (Monster Fucking)

Summary: Your girlfriend's new power has made your sex life a whole lot more interesting.

Jennifer Walters x Fem! Reader (Fic)

Day 25: Papa’s Pet (Public Sex)

Summary: Dr Brenner will absolutely use you teach someone a lesson about the consequences of trying to steal what belongs to him.

Dr Martin Brenner x Fem! Reader (featuring 001?) (Fic)

Day 26: Blindfolding The Snake (Blindfold Sex)

Summary: You blindfold your good boy and reward him for all his hard work.

Servant! Snake x Master! Fem! Reader (Headcannons)

Day 27: Othello’s Experiment (Pregnancy / Breeding Kink)

Summary: Othello's newest obsession is pregnancy and all the symptoms that come with it. You've so generously agreed to help him in his little experiment for his research.

Othello x Fem! Human! Reader (Imagine)

Day 28: (Threesome)

Summary: Nemuri, your girlfriend, is shocked to hear about a filthy fantasy you've been thinking about. But still, she's more than willing to help her lover made said fantasy come true.

Midnight x Mt Lady x Fem! Reader (Fic)

Day 29: (Vouyerism)

Summary: Gabe has been watching you for a while now and has finally decided it time to come out and introduce himself.

Gabe x GN! Reader (Imagine)

Day 30: (Size Kink)

Summary: Nana is big and buff for a woman. She is quite used to hearing negative things about her muscly figure. The first thing she's ever received a compliment about her body was when you, her young girlfriend and successor's older sister, make a comment on how sexually aroused you are by her big muscles and all the filthy things you imagine she could to do to you with them.

Nana Shimura x All Might's Sister! Younger! Fem! Reader (Fic)

Which ones are you the most excited for?

[blackbutlerbrainrots]

First post!! This all started with a brainrota and ended with a full on fic😭😭😭 Anyways, there will most probably part 2

WC: 1.8K 

Now imagine this, you were the oldest daughter of the Phantomhive household. You had everything you would ever want. A caring mother, a responsible father, new set of clothes everyday and you were basically spoiled rotten. Given that you were Vincent and Rachel’s first daughter and child, Angelina (Madam Red) was very fond of you. Luckily, you didn’t inherit your mother’s asthma and that made your mother’s worries disappear. 

You were a perfect mix of Rachel and Vincent. You have your mother’s overall attitude while you have your father’s cunning and calculative mindset. 

At a young age, Vincent knew you picked up a few traits of his manipulative side. He taught you just like how he would teach himself, although not that harshly. You are after all his only daughter that he wishes to cherish. Vincent taught you all the ways he could, teaching you how to be the next Queen’s loyal guard dog. 

On the other hand, Rachel was nothing like her husband. She saw you as a child, flesh and blood, who was naive and kind. In which, you are but in her perspective, you were one of a kind child who was obedient and honest. And she would like it that way. 

Both Rachel and Vincent are somewhat isolating. Vincent knows that he should let you out of the manor but Rachel was very adamant about you staying. Lest you get dirty by all of those… nobles. 

Everything changed on your 8th birthday, where the couple announced that Rachel was pregnant. You were happy, of course! You would get another sibling that you’ve always wanted! But there was this sinking feeling deep in your chest that what if…

“What if I’m not their favorite anymore?” 

You know it was childish of you to think of that. Even if all the attention you got from your parents were to move from you to your unborn sibling. You often thought about whether you hated your sibling. After all, all the attention that you got was stolen away from you.

How wrong you were. 

You never once hated your siblings, much less your younger brothers. They were everything to you. Your parents were glad that you accepted your brother’s even with the age gap. They were relieved to know you accepted your brothers warmly. And it should’ve stayed that way. 

Until… That happened. 

Fast forward to the twin’s 10th birthday party. You grew up to be a carbon copy of your father. Whether it may be your gestures, how you talk, even all the way to how you sit. Vincent thought every time he saw you, he felt like looking at a mirror. You were just like him. Not that Vincent himself was complaining. Oh no, no, no! He was proud of you for being just like him. Although you were still just like your mom in different ways too. 

You were known in high society as the fashion queen. All the noble girls envy and admire you all the same. There was even one time where you despised a noble who was throwing a banquet and openly said;

“I’m not stepping one foot towards that… rancid place”

You said it in a calm manner. More like a threatening tone. Ever since you found out that the noble who lives there was a secret pedophile, you never wanted to go everywhere it went. 

Who knew you saying a statement will get a harsh blow into that noble's reputation? 

Not a single noble lady that was invited showed up at the designated time. And that is where it hits the Queen. You were no ordinary Lady, it would seem like it. 

And from being a spoiled Phantomhive, you were known as the Queen’s goddaughter. The Queen was very fond of you, and she makes sure it shows. 

It would seem like you had everything you ever wanted. Until that happened. 

—--------------------

You were in your room, getting ready for the twin’s 10th birthday party. You were excited to see the Twin’s reaction to your gift. You know that the younger twin has asthma, inherited from your mother. And you tried all the best ways to make sure that he was included in everything you all did as a family. 

While your personal maid was doing your hair, you both heard a loud crash outside. You were about to get up, but it seems like your maid beat you to it. 

“Stay here, my lady. I would check it out quickly and come back here as soon as possible. You already look splendid in your necklace and rings. And just look at you! You’re going to make the gentlemen swoon head over heels for you~!”

You sigh. “I sometimes envy your optimistic attitude, Lily.” The said maid giggled cheerfully. “I’ll be right back!” She said as she was leaving. You then look at the mirror in front of you. You were covered in jewels, most are probably gifts from the Queen herself.

You were left alone in your room and it was quiet. You put your hand on your forehead. “I know it should be quiet, but not this quiet, no?” You asked yourself. You often find yourself talking to yourself whenever you are alone. And you have a point there. It was a birthday party but the eerie quietness made it feel like a funeral instead. 

5 minutes…. Turns to 10 and that turns to 20..

“Just where the hell is she!?” You weren’t one to be irritated easily. But you aren’t fond of being late, especially to your younger brother’s birthday. 

You stood up from your chair to find out why she took so long. 

And you consider yourself to be smart. But that decision might’ve been the worst one you ever made. 

Outside, you saw Lily’s detached head on the stairwell. You put a hand on your mouth to prevent you from screaming. “What is going on!?” Your first thought was to make sure your younger brothers were alive and well. You tried to move quietly and swiftly but your dress makes it more difficult. 

You also found your jewelry in the way of you moving quietly so you quickly took them off. Except for your earrings and ring. They were a gift from your family so how could you ever throw it away? 

“Is mother and father safe? Are they with Ciel!?” 

You heard some voices getting closer and closer to where you were so you ran as quietly as you could in a room.

“Man, can’t we already just snatch those boys up?”

“Don’t yer get impatient now, boy! We still have to find that brat!”

You heard one of the men, who you were sure was not a servant, talk, having a deep scottish accent. You put both of you hands on your mouth to control your breathing and to prevent yourself from getting a panic attack. You couldn’t afford to get caught now. 

You heard the voices get further and further again and you sighed. Your breathing has become more steady and calm. Just as you were about to open the door-

“What a delectable birdie we findin’ today boys!” It was unexpected. “B-but I thought-!” The man giggled, it was disgusting and horrible to your ears. “You thought wrong sweetheart! Let’s get you all nice and sleepy, now, would you?”

And that was the last thing you remembered ever since you got kidnapped and was put into a slave auction a few weeks later. 

You were in a cage, a metal choker with chains to prevent you from escaping. If anyone were to see you in this state, they would have never thought that you’re a noble. Well, was once a noble, that is. Your parents are surely dead, the twins were kidnapped and you? You’re in a slave auction ready to be bought by people in this… cult. You don’t know how to explain where you are. But it was definitely a cult. A cult obsessed with your family, that is. 

You were just in this cage, all alone. You tried remembering what happened the first time you got here.

—--------------

DAY ONE

You groan as you try to sit up from the cold wet floor. Your head started pounding; ‘Just what happened?’ You tried to open one of your eyes, despite the aching of your head. 

You hissed and closed your eyes again. You don’t know where you are but it was too bright. As you tried to open your eyes slowly, you heard a voice. 

“Now ladies and gentlemen! Let me introduce you to this special specimen!” You heard some woah’s and just over all sounds of fascination. You heard the voice call out again. “Why is this specimen so special? Because this is the only and eldest daughter of the Phantomhives!” And at that, you heard shoutings.

“5 thousand!” 

“Enough! I’ll bid 100 thousand!”

“I bid 500 thousand!”

‘W-what..? What are they..’ You knew what they were doing. But perhaps you were questioning what exactly they were doing was some type of coping mechanism. You fully opened your eyes and that was the moment where you couldn’t believe your eyes. 

You were in some kind of cage and you had your wrists and ankles bound with shackles, both connected so it made it more difficult to escape. You couldn’t exactly see what’s ahead because of the cage but you could definitely see the person announcing you as if you were some kind of item to be purchased. He wore a mask for a masquerade party and had a tuxedo. What really sets him apart from all the other guests was his oddly bright red ribbon. 

He was dressed like it was a celebration. If you saw him alone, you might’ve thought it was. But it wasn’t. Because you were obviously in a…

“...A slave auction?” You questioned yourself. Even when you couldn’t hear yourself because of the loud shouts (Bidding) of the people that were wearing cloaks. And the masks. They were wearing masks. And that’s when it fully hits you. 

‘I’m the one they’re bidding for… They’re…. Buying me..’ You found yourself shaking at the thought.It was so unbelievable. Really. You couldn’t fully move because of the shackles that were bound to you. But either way, there was no escape. Too many eyes are on you. You wouldn’t really mind that most of the time. As you were the Queen’s favorite and the eldest daughter of the Phantomhives so of course eyes were on you. 

“One million!” 

“One million and 500 thousand!”

‘They really are… Do they want me that much..?’ You knew your value. Time after time again, your father always tells you about your position in high society. It was your duty to always remember your worth. And even when your father didn’t remind you, everyone reminded you. Of who you are as a whole. 

“5 million! Sold!” 

Your heart sank. Were you really worth that much? 

You heard some people grumbling in frustration. About why they didn’t bid higher or why they didn’t bought more or… 

Before you could think, you saw your now master. And that’s when realization fell on you. You aren’t the Queen’s goddaughter or the eldest Phantomhive. 

You’re now a slave and the man in front of you is now your… “You can call me Master, my belladonna.”

[laiqualaurelote]

Good Omens fic masterlist

A long long time ago (at least longer than this Tumblr has existed) I used to write Good Omens fic, and now that S2 is getting closer every day, here are all my GO fics in one place! they are all Aziraphale/Crowley and all their titles are from Queen songs.

your smile speaks books to me (5k, Aziraphale/Crowley, Anathema/Newt)

Crowley remains rather proud of Instagram. On an average day it rustles up at least two sins - usually Pride and Envy - and on a good day it can hit all seven. He’d been angling for a commendation for it, but Hell typically backdates commendations by decades, centuries even, and now it seems unlikely he will ever get his. Not that it matters.

Having prodded Instagram into being, he left it to fester in the Petri dish of humanity, as he does most of his projects. And as his projects are wont to do, it is now coming back to bite him, like the M25 and automated checkouts sensitive to unexpected items in the bagging area. 

Aziraphale's bookshop becomes accidentally famous on Instagram, to his great distress. Since Crowley invented Instagram, it's also his problem.

till one day they call your name (6.5k, Adam/Warlock, Aziraphale/Crowley)

“What happened to the one that you did raise, then?” Adam asked. “Instead of me?”

“Blessed if we know,” said Crowley. “Made a hash out of that one, we did. Probably up to his ears in therapy now.”

“Oh, I rather think we did all right,” put in Aziraphale soothingly. “I daresay we were rather good at being godparents.”

“You tried to kill me,” Adam pointed out. “Literally the first thing you did when we met.”

Nine years after almost causing the end of the world, Adam is working backstage in university theatre when he meets a high-strung, melodramatic, manipulative American director who happens to share his birthday.

I Live And Lie For You (12.9k, Bond/Q, Aziraphale/Crowley, Adam/Pepper)

“Absolutely, unequivocally no, you’re not getting a Bentley. Of all the vintage cars in the world, did you have to break into that one?” “At least ask him where he got it,” says Bond, cajoling. “He made a pact with the devil,” says Q. “Which you cannot do, as I believe you are already spoken for.”

In which Wensleydale and Pepper grow up and join MI6 so they can continue saving the world. One becomes the youngest Quartermaster in history. The other shoots James Bond.

[kylorengarbagedump]

Playing Soldier: Chapter 7

Read on AO3. Part 6 here. Part 8 here.

Summary: The longest stay you've ever had from home is about to become much longer.

Words: 5000

Warnings: Medical trauma

Characters: William Tavington x Reader

A/N: Cowritten with @bastillia <3

Off we go into the field! We are loving your comments, your thoughts, your excitement and engagement in the story - truly, we are so lucky. I hope you continue to enjoy what we have planned for the future!!

Please credit all of Grace's letter to Bastillia and her genius. Also, please thank Bastillia for her newly formed fixation on the American Revolutionary War - it's because of this we can't help but bring in actual historical figures like they're our blorbos as well, HAHAHA. It's been a lot of fun learning about history and integrating it into the fic (even if The Patriot was not always hyper-concerned about this LOL)

Love you so much! <3

The letter was crisp, addressed in handwriting that swirled across the page like fairy dust. Grace’s penmanship, for certain—something you’d always envied when comparing it to yours, which bore more resemblance to cresting waves in a storm than anything meant for man’s eyes. It had been dated for a little over a week prior.

“Thank you,” you said to Goddard. “You said this was given to you by whom?”

“Major Ferguson,” he said, stepping further into the kitchen. Then, upon glimpsing your expression and perhaps realizing you couldn’t have possibly known who in God’s sweet Holiness that was, he continued bashfully, “The Major, er, commands another unit that was deployed into the backcountry. Lord Cornwallis ordered most of us to return here to Charleston about a day ago.”

You nodded, turning the paper over in your hands. “I see.” What you wanted to ask but didn’t: Does that include Colonel Tavington, then?

It’d been about two weeks since you’d last seen him in his office. You supposed he’d made good on his intention and set out from Charleston that evening. But he’d been in the field since then, and the status of your parole hung in the balance. Ghoulishly, a part of you had hoped he’d been killed in action. Perhaps even more ghoulishly, another, hungrier part of you had wished for him to return.

You’d tried to sate that part with nightly hand-feedings proffered between your legs—but still its appetite rose anew and greedy every morning.

“Who is it from?” said Lottie. “Your sister?” She peered over your shoulder, her red curls bouncing into her face.

Goddard gave a playful frown, running his hand through hair that matched his sister’s in color and texture. “I suppose I’m not offered a greeting?”

Lottie laughed, moving around you and throwing herself into his arms. “Welcome home, Benny.”

You grinned. “Yes,” you said. “It’s from Grace.” You peeled open the wax seal and started to read.

June 10 1780

My Dearest Sister,

Though I write this on only the sixth day since I bade you farewell, I feel it has been a lifetime. You will be glad to know that I was yesterday evening delivered home in most agreeable fashion by the company of a Major Ferguson, who attended to my utmost comfort and happiness the whole journey from Charlestown ; a great improvement, I say, upon the accommodations granted to me thence.

It has been made plain to me that the disruptions we endured, Sister, were the most unfortunate results of misunderstanding. A pity that though I beseech God to upend time, He does not heed me. Impossible notions vex and bedevil my sleep night upon night—would that I might stay Death’s hand before he took Mary and Nathaniel and Elijah and Adam. I can hardly bear to think of them, yet it is with shame and difficulty that I place my thoughts anywhere else.

In my most fitful hours on the road—

“I hate to interrupt,” said Goddard, very irritatingly interrupting. “But I fear the hospital may soon be teeming. We skirmished with militia on the road, and our field medic couldn’t attend every man.”

“Oh!” Lottie looked at you, her brown eyes wide with concern. “We should certainly go and help, then.”

You frowned. You were already feeling a little concerned about Grace’s inclination to Loyalist sympathy in the letter. “Can I not have ten more minutes?”

Goddard shook his head. “The colonel already wishes to depart this evening and needs every possible man made fit.”

So Tavington was back in Charleston. For now.

“Out again?” Lottie said. “But you all only just returned.”

“Yes.” Wincing, Goddard stepped past you both to grab a cloth hanging from the stove. As he wiped his face, he sighed. “Lord Cornwallis is holding a council of war. Colonel Tavington is in attendance with the other commanders, but he hopes to gather more cavalry and depart again by nightfall.” He looked apologetic. “You know how he is.”

You pursed your lips, folding the letter and stowing it in one of your skirt pockets. You know how he is, he’d said, as if everyone in the room all had the same experiences with Colonel Tavington, and everyone in the room all held the same opinion about his demeanor, body, face, hair, hands, and eyes.

And mouth.

“A council of war?” you asked, pushing thoughts of all of William Tavington’s body parts to a corner of your mind that you’d revisit in the evening. “What ever for? I thought the Continental army had left South Carolina.”

“Most of them,” said Goddard, plucking a peach from a bowl on the counter. “But they aren’t the problem. Evidently there’s been a disaster involving a group of Loyalists that the General sent north.” He bit into the fruit and sighed, savoring it.

“What sort of disaster?” Lottie asked, her eyes great dark pools of worry.

Goddard shrugged. “Men died,” he said around a mouthful of peach flesh before swallowing. “Lots of them. Don’t know the specifics. I expect we will be receiving new enlistment quotas, though, especially with these militia pestering us now.”

Lottie frowned. “Perhaps we should—”

“Have you had many encounters with militia?” you asked, your pulse picking up. “They seem to have amassed rather quickly.”

“Putting it lightly,” said Goddard, sighing. “Even with Charleston back under the Crown, it seems the rest of the colony remains determined to resist. We even found a small holdout of Continentals up the Santee.”

“Continentals?” you pressed, struggling to maintain a neutral facade. “I query why they would not have rejoined their forces in North Carolina by now.”

“Seems they received a dispatch following the Waxhaws battle, and stayed.” Goddard shrugged and took another bite of peach. “Tenacious, those men, I’ll admit as much.”

“I’m sure it’s all very interesting,” Lottie said, waving you toward her. “But if the hospital—”

“Did your forces engage them? How many were there?” You spoke just a little too quickly, but you were finding it harder to restrain yourself. “What was in the dispatch they received?”

Goddard raised a brow and glanced at Lottie. You consciously corrected your posture so that he might not think you liable to lunge at any moment. He relaxed.

“I, er, I can’t be certain what it said,” he replied. “I never saw the message.”

You exhaled in frustration. “I imagine you were unable to capture the messenger himself, then.”

“Actually, we were able,” Goddard said. Your heart leapt into your mouth. “Colonel Tavington became nigh on feverish in his pursuit.”

Your next question hung like a noose from your tongue, your body rigid as a gallows. “Who…” You swallowed. “Who was the messenger?”

Goddard furrowed his brow and shook his head, like he couldn’t fathom why you were so interested. “Some boy.” He waved his bitten peach through the air. “A… ‘Martin?’”

You nearly sagged in relief, instead bracing a hand against the kitchen table and affixing a passive expression to your face. “Oh.”

“The colonel made a…” Goddard winced, “compelling example of his family.” He paused, grimacing again. “And of their property.”

“I don’t want to hear of such dreadful things,” Lottie interjected. “Anyhow, we really must be off.” She grabbed your wrist. “Let us not stay the King’s men their care.”

“Yes, of course,” you said, forcing a nod. Though your worry was assuaged, your curiosity was very much not. You had, however, pushed both too far. “Let’s be off, then.”

The morning air was already ripening with heat, sticking to your tongue as you breathed it in. You were glad to be rid of your sling, sweltering thing that it was, before the summer’s wrath descended in full. In the smallest of ways, it was freeing. Even if your shoulder did still twinge with pain from time to time, it grew stronger each day. One less restraint upon your body. And one less reason for anyone to insist you couldn’t be of use.

You had welcomed the introduction of hospital labor into your routine. It hadn't been necessary, but staying in the Goddards’ home on your own only chafed your invisible shackles. Without a distraction, you imagined yourself as an anxious dog pacing in a barren cage. Working in the hospital also gave you the opportunity to collect information while wearing one of the most innocuous disguises available.

And besides all of that—you were good at it.

“I hate that the colonel keeps Benedict away so frequently as of late,” Lottie said as you followed her on the cobblestone. “I worry about him.”

You nodded. “I'm sure he worries about you, too.”

“I’m sure he does,” she said, sighing through her lips in a blubbering sound. “He knows I languish in his absence. It’s so difficult. The loneliness, I mean.”

“The loneliness?” You frowned. “You don’t keep busy?”

She laughed. “Of course I do! But it’s no replacement for companionship. Especially of family. You know as much.” With a playful smile, she added, “Benedict tells me it’s all the more reason for me to be married.”

“Is he pushing you to marry?”

“Not in so many words,” she said. “He does seem invested in introducing me to his fellow officers as often as possible.”

You couldn’t imagine doing the same to Grace. She had been your primary companion in life since your mother had passed—in some ways, more your responsibility than your father’s. After all, for those first few years, you were the only one able to tend to the animals or the crops, you were the only one able to make the meals, or sweep the floors. You would climb into bed with her, hours after she’d fallen asleep, after your father had emptied his glass of gin and you’d gotten him to his room.

Thankfully, your father eventually put down the gin. You didn’t think it was possible to put down responsibility. You didn’t even know if you wanted to.

“I see,” you replied. “Are they kind, at least?”

Lottie snorted. “No,” she said. “Most of the Green Dragoons are utter villains.” She folded her arms protectively over her chest. “I’m much more inclined toward Major Ferguson’s corps. He only oversees men of honor.”

There was that name again, said with the same dreamy insistence that Grace had tried and failed to conceal in her writing.

“Major Ferguson,” you said, as if recalling a long-forgotten acquaintance. “I keep hearing that name today. Do you know much about him?”

“Oh, I dream of it.” She giggled with all of the secrecy of a girl with a crush on a church boy. “I think—besides my brother, of course—he might be my favorite officer of all His Majesty’s soldiers.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Truly?”

“I promise you,” she said, “you have never met a man with greater wit, charm, or passion.” She laughed and gave a teasing smirk. “I think he could convince General Washington himself to throw down his arms and pledge allegiance to the King if given half a chance.”

“I will take your impressions under advisement,” you replied, grinning. You suddenly had an idea who was likely responsible for Grace’s shifting sentiments.

When you arrived at the City Hospital, Lottie dipped off to check on the sick she’d tended to the day prior. You, personally, didn’t see the purpose in conversing with those you had no duties to and decided to sit and read through more of Grace’s letter.

In my most fitful hours on the road, when grief seemed to me a dark and terrible ocean without shore, I was sought by the gracious Major Ferguson, who told most diverting stories and drew from me laughter of a mystifying source. I query whether he may be adept with some beguiling magick to have so oft performed a vanishment of my tears. He is a clever and skillful man as well as kind.

You, I am sure, would think more highly of him than you did Nathaniel, though I fear I am now far ahead of myself, Sister, and must stay my pen lest my flights of fancy make off with me, as you know they are apt to do. I am besieged now by shame to even write it, and know that were you here, Sister, you would soothe me by turning my mind to practicalities. As such, and to ease the pain of your absence I feel again coming upon me, I shall address them. I know the welfare of our home indispensable to your peace of mind, so let me assure you of it.

Despite your growing suspicions surrounding Ferguson, a smile crept over your face as you read Grace’s report on the farm. She listed every crop that had needed tending on her return, the condition of each chicken and goat by name, and included an effusive exaltation of your neighbors who had kindly fed them in your absence.

I do not wish to be alone. Major Ferguson is to depart with his men two days hence—

The delicate clearing of a throat resounded from somewhere to your side.

You snapped from the letter, looking up to see a bashfully pleading Lottie leaning around a doorframe. This version of Lottie was becoming all too familiar given the short time you’d worked alongside her. You let out a sigh.

“Now?” you protested, raising the letter to emphasize that you were occupied.

“Please, oh please,” she stepped into full view to clasp her hands in adjuration. “There’s so much blood, it’s horrid, and the bone is broken, and—”

“All right, Lottie.” You couldn’t help yourself. You smiled. “I’ll help.”

Down the hall and into the ward, a dolorous assault slammed your senses. Injured men groaned out in chorus, and the scent of blood hung in the air like coppery vapor. Lottie ducked her head and led you over to the hospital physician—Dr. Moore—who was hovering over a badly wounded man. From what you could tell, he was a young infantry soldier, his coat removed and head wrapped in bandages. Blood smothered his face, dirt smattered his legs, and his right arm was stripped of clothing.

At least, you believed it was his arm. In its current state you couldn’t imagine it being of much use for any purpose other than occupying a dog’s mouth.

“Go on,” Lottie murmured, urging you forward. “I—I’ll be ill.”

Moore caught you both approaching and adjusted the spectacles over his nose. “Charlotte,” he said, testing with his fingers what some might call flesh, but you’d probably call meat. “Where were you? I need your assistance setting the bone.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I, um, I…”

He frowned. “He doesn’t have all day, Miss Goddard.”

She elbowed your ribs, and you hopped forward with a wince. “Actually,” you said, “I’ll assist in her stead, doctor.”

“Hm?” He looked up, squinted at you. “Poultice girl?”

You nodded, even though you'd introduced yourself multiple times. “My name is—”

“Fine, yes. Come now. Hold this for me. Just there above the wrist.”

As you stepped to assist, Lottie quickly backed away, turning pale beneath her freckles as she watched you support the bloodied, blue-mottled limb. “Oh, yes, thank you so much,” she said, turning away, “I’ll be right, ah, right down that way, so, not too far!”

“Hold on, Charlotte,” said Moore. “We still might need you.”

She whinged. You weren’t fully sure how she served in medicine when she halfway lived in fear of it.

Standing by Moore, you propped up the soldier’s wrist and elbow. He stiffened and groaned through his teeth, seeking out reassurance in your eyes. Why yours, you didn’t know—you had no words of wisdom to offer him and didn’t particularly care to think of any, especially when he was impeding the work with his wooden limbs. Lottie swept to his side and patted his other shoulder, keeping her focus on his face.

“It’s all right, sir, we’re going to take care of this quickly, I promise.”

He winced, nodding, and loosened in your grip. You glimpsed her for a moment, her gaze like a deep, warm embrace. This part came as naturally to her as yours did you.

It ached, how much she reminded you of Grace in that moment. The last line you’d read of Grace’s letter—I do not wish to be alone—pricked your heart like a needle. You did not wish for her to be alone, either. You did not wish to be here, in Charleston, spending time gathering scraps of information when you knew she waited as the tender, vulnerable center of your home.

Moore started to work, and you stood still, bracing the soldier’s arm as he wiped away the blood. Even if granted leave, however, you were uncertain if you wanted to return home. The threat of the British grew greater in South Carolina, and under the supposition that both Grace and you were Loyalists, you could maintain a semblance of safety. Especially with your father’s condition still unknown and Tavington still itching for the opportunity to wring all of your necks.

Behind you, the clicking of heels. “And this is our most esteemed physician, Dr. Henry Moore.” It was the matron of the hospital. “Dr. Moore?”

“A bit busy right now,” Dr. Moore said. The soldier groaned as Moore palpated the skin on his forearm, coaxing the severed halves of bone together beneath.

“Can you take a moment?” she asked, before walking toward the other end of the ward. She tossed over her shoulder, “Colonel Tavington wishes to speak with you.”

Your eyes widened. You turned, met Tavington’s gaze and flinched, jerking the soldier’s arm. He howled in pain, and you grumbled, grabbing a wad of unused bandages and stuffing them in his mouth. He whimpered into them. Dr. Moore sighed, manually readjusted your grip, and got back to work on his sabotaged bone setting.

Tavington, meanwhile, regarded you as you imagined he might regard a body climbing to its feet after he’d gutted it. His right hand flexed absently at his side. All you could do was stare at him completely normally and not at all like a bolt of excitement had zipped through you at the sight of him.

He cocked a brow, his focus flicking over you before he turned to Moore. “Dr. Moore—”

“Busy.”

“—the British legion requires your services immediately.”

“I’m sure you believe your needs to be of great importance, Colonel, but—”

“The field medic I’ve currently retained is indisposed.”

“—as you can see, Charleston keeps me preoccupied as is.”

“You should be prepared to depart as early as this evening.”

Moore paused with a sigh, and turned to face Tavington. “Colonel, I make no assumptions regarding the frequency with which you hear this word, but no.”

Tavington’s eyes fluttered as if the doctor had clapped in front of his nose. “Perhaps you believed me to be making a request, doctor,” he replied. “I was not.”

You pinched your lips between your teeth. Moore had stopped his work on the soldier’s arm entirely. Silent, you caught Lottie’s attention from the corner of your sight, and found her face flush with anxious warmth.

“Colonel,” Moore said, with even more exasperation than the previous time, “I am the only physician in Charleston—perhaps all of South Carolina—at present. I cannot abdicate my duties here to ride with cavalry all night.” He stared at Tavington, who did not move or even shift his expression, like Moore was a fussing baby. “But I can—all right. Listen.” Moore looked at Lottie, then back to Tavington. “Miss Goddard here will be able to serve your needs adequately, and she has the added benefit of having no additional responsibilities aside.”

Lottie tensed, her gaze darting between Moore and Tavington. “M-me, doctor?” With a nervous smile, she said, “Of course, it would be my honor, but… would it be possible for my friend here to join me?”

“Your friend?” said you, the doctor, and Tavington at the same time.

“Please,” Lottie whispered, looking at you. She turned to Dr. Moore. “She’ll be a great help to me.”

Moore sighed and grabbed two splints, lining them up along the man’s forearm. You didn’t blame Lottie for wanting you there. But this would mean you wouldn’t return home. It would mean more time Grace would spend alone. You pinched the splints together, and the soldier whined, muffled by the bandages. As he twisted his head, blood trickled down his cheek, right in Lottie’s line of sight. She choked, turning to try and cough away her clear growing nausea.

“If you insist, Charlotte,” Dr. Moore mumbled as he started the bandaging process.

Tavington, who was watching with winnowing patience, looked at you. “Unfortunately,” he said, “your friend’s freedom does not extend beyond the borders of Charleston.”

You frowned. “But my intelligence was valid.”

“Yes,” he said, “but it did not produce the promised results.”

“A dispatch rider was found and detained, was he not?”

Tavington’s brows raised fractionally. “What was not found was a certain Captain Michael—“

“I am not my father’s keeper,” you growled, shifting more to face him. The soldier whined again and you shot a leer at him. “Shall I next beseech the pagan gods to divine his location, Colonel?”

Lottie glanced at you wide-eyed, alarmed at the tone you were using with a colonel of the British army. “She’s overworked from all of the injured we need to treat,” she offered. “She doesn’t mean that, Colonel Tavington.”

“She does,” he said, still focused on you. He stepped forward, voice lowering. “Divine? No. Reveal—given the insight you possess—yes.”

You snorted. Moore grabbed another roll of bandages and started using it to constrict the soldier’s arm. “If you are still unable to locate my father after everything I’ve told you, I hardly—”

The man groaned in agony, and you realized you’d started tightening your grip as you spoke. You relaxed, and he groaned louder.

Tavington sighed. “Do shut up, Private.”

Your face scrunched, almost amused. The man settled, and you took a breath. “I hardly believe that’s an issue with which I need concern myself.”

“I would say your investment in your father’s life concerns you a great deal,” he replied.

“Alas, but I cannot serve as your prophet, though you flatter me with the notion.” You shrugged. “All of those men under your command, and no success. Perhaps there’s a deficiency somewhere you need to address.”

Lottie hissed your name under her breath. “Please don’t make this harder on me.” Then, turning to Tavington, big brown eyes pleading, said, “I beg of you, Colonel. She’s simply tired. I’ll vouch for her myself!”

“Do you want to take them or not, Colonel?” Moore was tying off the second round of bindings. “If not, I’ll ask you to kindly and politely depart the ward so I can continue getting work done. You may have noticed this, but we’ve a couple dozen of your men here who need my assistance.”

Tavington’s tongue rolled in his mouth, and his eyes met yours. There you found the curiosity you’d spied while in his office, familiar glimmers of interest as he studied you. You swallowed, holding his gaze, wondering what exactly was going through his mind, wondering if he could see your speeding pulse. His head tilted, his chest fell in an exhale.

“And you… You wish to come.”

That really was the question. Your participation in this war had already dumped guilt onto your back as you unceremoniously condemned strangers to suffer and die. The thought of going along with Lottie brought a new deluge of emotions, some of which you worried would war fiercer than the soldiers in the field.

A terrible guilt for abandoning Grace. An even more terrible sadness that you wouldn’t know when you next would see her. And perhaps the most terrible excitement at the thought of waking daily and sleeping nightly within the domain of the most despicable bastard you’d ever met.

Despite it all, you knew that if you kept up the Loyalist facade, Grace would remain safe at home. Your father was the one in danger. And if you were out in the country with his primary—and deadliest—pursuer, you had the highest chance of protecting them both.

All you had to do was stay alive.

“I do, Colonel,” you replied.

“Both of you,” he said, with some amount of dread.

That wasn’t a question, but Lottie nodded anyway. “She’ll be an asset to you, Colonel. A great asset. I promise!”

“I somehow doubt that very much,” he mumbled. “Very well.” He turned to Dr. Moore, who still couldn’t be bothered to look at him while he wiped off the remaining blood from the soldier’s hands and face. “Send them along to the barracks at once. They’ll need to be briefed and supplied before we depart.”

Moore nodded. “Right away, Colonel,” he muttered.

Tavington’s eyes found yours a final time. Whether there was want or warning within them, you couldn’t discern. He turned on his heel and left the ward.

Your shoulders sagged, weight dropping to the ground that you hadn’t known you’d been carrying. Lottie provided you an expression you would’ve described as contrite if there wasn’t so much relief hidden behind it.

“Thank you so much,” she whispered. She rubbed the soldier’s back as he stood and swayed, his arm properly stiff at his side. “Off you go, sir. Get yourself a bed.” Turning back to you, she frowned. “I’m not sure if I can put my appreciation into words, really. I know how badly you wished to return home.”

“Thank you, Dr. Moore,” you said as he stood and moved to the next man. As expected, he did not reply. You shook your head and shrugged to Lottie. “It’s better for me to be doing what I can to serve His Majesty.” You hoped that didn’t sound as contrived as it felt leaving your mouth.

She pursed her lips, waiting for when Moore was out of earshot to whisper, “You have a funny way of showing it, the way you speak to Colonel Tavington!” The horror of your conduct had pinkened her cheeks. “Were you trying to get yourself hanged?”

You frowned. “Of course not.”

“Well, be more careful, then!” She huffed, crossing her arms. “I won’t always be around to rescue you.” She shook her head and brushed her hands down her dress like that would shoo the gore from her person. “Or perhaps he just favors you.”

Your next breath lodged in your throat, and you coughed. “I’m sorry—” You coughed again, straightening. “He what?”

She laughed, nudging you gently. “Oh, you are funny. Imagine, Colonel Tavington favoring anyone,” she said through giggles. “If you’d seen your face…”

“Right,” you said, bizarrely disappointed.

With a sigh, Lottie adjusted her sleeves. “I’ll tell Mrs. Smith that we need to be departing. Oh!” She gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth in delight. “This means that I’ll be in the field with Ben!” With a smile, she skittered over to the matron as she attended an ailing woman.

You tried to grin, but strained your cheeks, deciding to settle into the seat where the soldier had been instead. If you were to be departing with Tavington’s legion tonight, you needed to finish Grace’s letter. You pulled it from your pocket.

I do not wish to be alone. Major Ferguson is to depart with his men two days hence and I must admit that I dread his absence. Already once he has made a most welcome visit to certify my welfare. I told him I was indeed well, but that I should like very much to know the condition of my dear Sister. Though I with most indocile nature demanded his intelligence on the matter, he remained to me gentle and courteous. He wishes it was in his power to oblige me but it is not. He suggested however that should I wish to write you, that he may deliver you my Letter when next he is called to Charlestown. A gallant and charitable offer indeed!

Despite Papa’s endless grievances of the British army I believe he construes them all unkindly. Perhaps every one he encountered was akin to that murderous devil we so unfortunately met. In that case I should understand his misgivings.

A sense of irritation grew in your chest. You decided you didn’t particularly care if this man Ferguson was in fact Jesus Christ himself rose from the dead. The fact he was busy using your sister’s naivety to his advantage made you want to crucify him despite it.

Murderous devil, perhaps, but at least Tavington…

You paused. You couldn’t think of anything he’d done that wasn’t, in fact, worse.

But enough of wars and men. Never have you and I been apart so long, nor our home so reminiscent of a cavern. How clamorous the sound of my pen in this silence, dear Sister. Pray write me when this letter finds you. Until then I shall look each day to the South road and hope to see you return. Do not fret that I am well. Mrs. Jones has called upon me to come for supper and company, she insists, whenever I feel the pangs of solitude too keenly. For this I am grateful.

Ever, ever I remain

Faithfully and Lovingly Your Sister, Grace

P.S. I am sorry for the words herein whose inking is damaged. Mr. Mouser trod upon this Letter and entreats me now with uproarious meows to attend him.

You smiled as you finished the letter. But your heart wilted. You weren’t sure when you would be coming up the south road, or when you’d be able to unburden Grace of solitude. You knew only that you were making the choices you felt were right to keep her safe. Just as you’d always done.

Dr. Moore had left some parchment out on the table with the medical supplies. You grabbed a few pages of it along with his pen. The letter wouldn’t be long, but you could at least let her know that she did not need to worry. That you wouldn’t be returning home, but you would promise to find her, to see her soon.

You dipped the nib in the ink. You started writing.

[lady-hibiscus]

read this fanfic idea and tell me if i should write it

it's a crossover, hazbin hotel x genshin impact. there will also be sprinklings of helluva boss

reimagine teyvat as a single ring of hell, and its archons as the deadly sins. celestia is heaven

the tsaritsa is the sin of envy (also known as leviathan). the harbingers are hellborn

the harbingers have missions to retrieve gnoses from all seven deadly sins and then take the fight up to heaven, where the tsaritsa hopes to defeat archangels/ultimately rule the world/hell/heaven?

main pairings will be cherrisnake (cherri bomb x sir pentious) and chiscara (childe x scara)

this will be set after hazbin season 1 so (SPOILERS) adam's dead, sir pentious is in heaven etc

the traveler doesn't exist sorry (too op for this world) however, lumine and aether are normal people somewhere in the universe

cons of me writing this fic

it's definitely going to end up a 100k wip, revisited erratically throughout several years

I ALREADY HAVE 5 WIPS

but...it could be good...