#the lady in front of me was journaling/taking notes

[goatmilksoda]

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile VI

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Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: It's a long chapter because it's Alastor's Point of View from the beginning until the end of Chapter IV. There is dark theme here, like racism, blood, dark thoughts. But I guess you know about it, it is about Alastor's story ! Please enjoy and tell me your thoughts, if you like having a long chapter about Alastor's thoughts.

“ Do you promise to be a good boy bébé?”

Alastor smiled at his mother and nodded. He would always be good for his mother, even if he didn’t like what he was supposed to do. Today, his mother had invited an old friend of hers, someone she used to know before she married his father, and this woman would bring her child with her, hoping that they could play together. His mother was so excited.

He didn’t care about them, but if his mother was happy, he'd put on a show.

He went into his bedroom to be sure everything was clean, but mostly to be sure that his secrets were kept safe. He took his journal, where all of his thoughts were written down. He hid it under a pile of clothes, if his father were to fall upon it,  it would be a disaster and frankly, he didn’t want to get into another beating.

He lifted his head up as he heard noises downstairs. So the parasites have finally come. He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled brightly. Easy. He tried different types of smiles before going downstairs quietly. He has learned not to make noises when he was walking, sometimes he could walk behind his fathers without him noticing. 

And there you were. He tilted his head as he saw you took a photo and stared at it. You didn’t even sense him, you weren’t paying attention to what was going on around you. Your life must be so easy.

“  Do you not know that it is rather rude to touch others' belongings?”

He stopped himself from chuckling as you jumped, surprised. Heh, too easy.

“And it is rude to come unannounced behind a lady!” 

A lady? His mother was a lady. Always proper, always smiling… You? You were… a naive, uninteresting girl so far. He did say to his mother that he would play nice… But he couldn’t help himself.

“ I see no lady.”

He wanted to laugh at your expression. How strange. You were giving him your reaction without faking it. In this house, everyone was faking it to make it out alive, even his Mother, faking a smile so his father could be “happy”. And when the emotion wasn't faked, it usually meant that problems were on their way. But you, you just expressed your expression out loud, without fearing it could put you in trouble. How strange. 

He turned his head toward his mother who introduced you both. He was ready to go shake your hand but you came toward him and kissed him on both cheeks. The only person who kissed him like this was his mother. Who did you think you were ? His cheeks flushed with anger but he contained himself,  not here, not in front of his mother… You wanted to play that game? Alright.

He waited for both of your mothers to go back in the kitchen before stepping closer to you, his face near yours. Hah, how you liked it when someone came too close toward you. He stared at your eyes, your eyes that seemed to say so many things, things he couldn’t comprehend, that he couldn’t grasp because he… he wasn't like you.

“ It’s rude to look at someone face this close!”

He almost coughed, you were the one who kissed him first but now HE was the one being rude? He easily made a lie saying he needed to be close to see. He saw your eyes relax and you almost seemed sorry. Were you watching him with pity? Oh no, he wouldn’t accept it. He’d prefer seeing you angry at him than watching him as if he was some kind of helpless kid who couldn’t fight for himself. 

“ But now that I have seen you up close I can clearly say… I see no lady.”

He smiled when he saw your angry face.

----

Your parents were really curious about him. He didn’t really want to talk with them but he put on his mask and talked about school and other boring stuff. He almost lost his calm when he felt you kicked him in the shin. He stared at you as you were beaming with pride and joy because you were now the centre of attention. How naively cute.

His mother always told him to never hit a girl but… If it was an accident ? And you were the one to begin this war. He kicked you on the same spot you had kicked him. His smile widened when he saw you spilled your drink on the table. You were panicking so much and you had every reason to be.. if his father were to be here. He stared at you, drinking.  You were a living experiment with your emotions shown so easily. You were still naive… But a tiny bit interesting. 

He stood up from his chair when his mother invited you both to play outside. He walked in front of you but he was looking at your shadows which made it so easy to dodge your so-called kick. He looked at you with a beaming smile when he spotted your face. You seemed so surprised.. and a bit impressed.

“ So unladylike.”

He watched you as you stuck your tongue to him, he was sure you were thinking he couldn’t see you. How funny. He let you go toward the swing and watched you as you went higher and higher with each swing. He walked toward you as you closed your eyes and arched your back toward the ground. You seemed so light, like you could just fly at any moment. Now he was curious.

“Jump.”

You didn’t seem keen on jumping, saying things like you could hurt yourself or dirtying your dress. He kept his smile but felt kind of disappointed. Oh well, maybe you weren’t interested. 

Or maybe you were!

He stared at you as you jumped when the swing was in its highest spot. He opened his mouth as he saw you, almost floating in the air, you seemed so free, so alive, so colourful, so… out of reach. He wanted to drag you down in hell with him. In his personal hell. In his life. Why were you so happy and he was–

“ Wow! Did you see that Alastor ! I did it ! Haha ! That was super amazing !”  you laughed. He looked at you, you were looking at him like you wanted him to be proud of you. You were beaming, you were… cute. You just jumped off a swing because he dared you to do it and you did it. No question asked. Most of the people would have said they didn’t want to play with him and left. But you stayed. Strange…

He tried to suppress his laugh when you dared him to climb the tree. So easy. Once he climbed it he watched you. Now you were the one on the floor while he was near the sky. He looked at you as you watched him, impressed. It made him feel something so he decided to tease you once again.

“ I should thank you, now that I’m here, I don’t have to see your face.”

“ My face is pretty !”

Yes, it was.

“ Pretty ugly.”

“ Alastor !”

You played all afternoon, you always had another game to play, another riddle to solve. Your mind was always thinking about something new… But then you put your hand on his eyes and said that you had a great time with him. What kind of manipulative game was that? Saying a secret, trusting the other person to hold their tongue and never breathe a word of what you just said? How could you be so naive ? Life wasn’t fair. Sharing secrets would make you weak. Never reveal your scars, your secrets or your emotions. 

He asked for another game, not wanting to see your face. Did you know that he could see everything in your eyes? Was that why you said your secret with a hand in front of his eyes, so he couldn’t see if you were in pain or happy? 

He looked at you as you proposed  a game of hide and seek. How cute. He would find you. He was a master of “hunting”. He closed his eyes and counted until fifty. He could already hear where you were going as you ran toward the forest. He smiled as he made you think he didn’t know where you were, he waited some time so you could be so sure of yourself you wouldn’t see him come.

And there you were.

“ Found you.”

You ran.

But what shocked him even further was that he couldn’t catch you. It was like you were flying through the grass, you weren’t watching where you were putting your feet while he was watching the floor, dodging the puddle of mudd, jumping over the branches that would have made him fall. He watched as you ran, he wanted to catch you. He didn’t know why, maybe to prove something to himself. 

It seemed like it was time to say goodbye, he didn’t even see the time passing which was surprising, he always knew what time it was, knowing when his father would come back. You came toward him, you seemed sad.

“ Well.. Goodbye…”

Were you really sad ? How cute. But if it was the last time that he saw you, he would rather see you smile.. And , well , he wasn’t going to see you again right? He could tell you a secret. He covered your eyes.

“ I had fun and… you are pretty.” 

He went to his mother as he watched you and your family leaving his house. When he went back home, his mother was watching him with an expectant smile. He tilted his hand, smiling at her, she seemed to have had a great afternoon, he was relieved.

“ Did you have a great time Alastor?”

He froze for a second. Did he? He stared at his hand, the hand that didn’t manage to catch you. Well, you were like a fresh breeze. Needed but short. He would have to live once again without feeling it.

“ Yes, I had a great time.”

—----

Alastor was doing his homework in the kitchen while his mother was cooking. Most of the time, his Father was away all week because he worked far from home, so his boss would give him a place to stay to avoid doing long travel. Which meant, when it was the weekend, his Father would do nothing but lay around in the house and if he had a bad week, well.. Let’s just say that his body remembered those days.

There, done! 

He stood up from his chair, now that his homeworks was done, he could go and listen to his radio. He went to his bedroom and sat on his desk, listening to the radio until he heard noises downstairs. He didn’t remember his Mother telling him that they would have guests over… And then he heard them. Your footsteps. What was that feeling? His heart was beating louder as your footsteps were getting closer and closer.

He smirked when he heard his door open, did you really think you were being quiet ? He stayed silent waiting to feel you closer to him, and once he saw your shadow, he opened his mouth.

“ How rude, entering a boy’s bedroom without permission.”

“ I see no boy.”

He smiled as he approached his face towards yours making you blush. He didn’t know why, but he was… content seeing you in front of him with all of your emotions written across your face. 

But he didn’t like this thought.

The fact that just your presence could make him feel things. You didn’t have the rights. That would mean that you had the upper hand on him, playing with him. No, you couldn’t know.

“ Why are you here?”

And there it was. You looked like a kicked puppy. He didn’t like it. He clearly didn’t like it. You were cute like this but he’d rather see you smiling even if he didn’t like what it made him feel. He suppressed his need to sigh at your face. You stuck your tongue at him, trying to hide the fact that he hurted you. You really were the cutest. Didn’t you see that he already saw your heartbroken expression? Seems like he needed to make things right. He touched your shoulder but you didn’t move. You were such an obstinate brat. He really was trying to be nice ! He sighed. Well… 

He covered your eyes, smiling when he saw you flinching and spoke.

“ I didn’t expect…to be content to see you today.”

Your smile was really blinding. He wondered if you were aware of it? How could you smile so easily without fearing that you showed too much emotion? How could you trust him not to use the information you just told him with your smile: You liked being with him. 

He was almost worried for your future. He looked at your hands as you raised it toward his face, clearly trying to cover his eyes. You really liked to touch him, didn’t you? He helped you as he took your hand and placed it in front of his eyes. Now what?

“ I wanted to see you too.” you confessed.

…

So that’s what it was.

He wanted to see you too.

How could you speak so freely? He took your hands off him and stared at you, maybe if he stared long enough in your eyes, he could get an answer. The only answer he got? He didn’t flinch when you kissed his cheeks not because he was scared but because didn’t feel the need to push you away. How strange…

He smirked as you told him about making him food. So you asked about him. You didn’t forget about him. Interesting..

He tilted his head as you ordered him to dance. He could dance, his Mother had teached him, he couldn’t wait but show you. He gave you a big smile and held his hand toward you but you went off script. You took his hand and just started to jump around, holding his hand. You encouraged him to do just like you but he was so confused. Was that dancing ? Maybe it was your way of dancing… Well, it was chaotically cute.. But let him show you how it’s done.

He took your hands and twirled you just like his Mother taught him. You seemed impressed once again, he really liked that. He didn’t know why but he wanted you to keep on watching him like this. You let go of his hand and walked toward his bed before throwing his pillow in his face. He didn’t expect it. He stared at your laughing face. You thought you were funny huh?

He took the pillow and ran toward you, pinning you on the floor and hitting you softly with his pillow. “ Rule number one, never drop your guard.” He hitted you with his pillow. “ Rule number two, I’m the strongest here.” he hitted you once again. “ Rule number three, give up.” He smiled as he watched you trying to sit up. You were really trying to get away ? He held the pillow above his head and then he saw it.

Your gaze fell on a bruise from his father. Ah, were you going to ask questions? What excuses should he invent this time? He tried to help his mother but failed? No, it was impossible. As he was swimming through his thoughts you took his hand, placed it on your eyes and  began to talk. You talked and talked and talked, you really couldn’t stop huh?

But he listened.

To every word.

He stood up and helped you when he heard his mother calling you downstairs. He followed you to the sofa and sat down, listening to your mothers talking. Seemed like you weren’t as patient as him, he could already see boredom settling on your face. But then you ran off the living room saying stuff about a kitty. He smiled at the ladies and went outstairs, staring at you and the cat. This bloody cat who was always hissing at him…

Maybe if he stopped affraying it, the cat would calm down? Huh…

He came closer and as expected the cat began to hiss but then it hurted you. He stared at your bleeding hand and took it in his. You were trying so hard not to cry. Why? You’ve been showing him every single of your emotions since you have met, why would you hide something that he wanted to see? Why did you not want to share yourself with him? He didn’t remember the last time he or his Mother cried. What would you look like? Without even being aware he dug his nails in your cut making you scream. He stared at you, you didn’t seem angry at him, but confused.  

“ Don’t be ashamed, you can cry. I… I think I want you to cry.” Now he was the one being confused.  Why would he want to see you cry? Because that means you trusted him enough to show yourself at your weakest. You began to cry, louder than necessary for such a little cut. But he let you. You were crying in front of him without feeling ashamed. You trusted him not to hurt you even more. You were an open book for him, a book he wanted to keep on reading.

But he’d rather see you smile.

He opened his mouth, ready to make a joke but he froze once he heard his voice.

“Alastor.”

He kept you against him. He remembered his Father hitting him because he was crying, he needed to hide your tears from his Father. He didn’t deserve to see you in that state. He didn’t trust his Father and neither should you.

“ Why is this chick crying ? For God’s sake, what have you done boy?”

“ The cat scratched her.”

“ This stupid cat… I’ll shoot it next time.”

He stared as the man went inside the house. It was going to be a hard night… He didn’t want to explain everything to you about his Father, you didn’t need to know. All you needed to know was how to be safe from this man. He covered your eyes with his hand.

“ Never cry in front of this man.”

He didn’t let go of you until you nodded. Then he took you to his Mother so she could clean your cut. Better safe than sorry.

Before leaving you told him about the pizza that you made with your Mother. He sneaked with you to the kitchen, he knew that his Father would eat all of the food you made so he wanted to share it with you before it could be stolen from him.  You were so eager for his feedback, he almost wanted to say it tasted bad but after what he did to your hand he decided to be honest and made the promise to cook you something next time. You beamed and kissed him on both cheeks before leaving with your Mother.

—--

He was so excited.

His Mother had told him that you would have a sleep over while his Father wasn’t home. It was perfect! He also had another game he wanted to play with you. His Mother had bought him a microphone thanks to his good grades at school. He wanted to do a radio broadcast with you. He wanted to share his dream with you just like you shared your emotions with him. He was in his bedroom, re-reading his note to be sure that everything was perfect. He asked his mother to do his hair like adults, so now his hair was slicked back. He looked at himself in the mirror. That would do. 

“ Can I come in yet?” you asked, outside Alastor’s bedroom, waiting for him to open the door.

His grin got even bigger. He opened his bedroom door and stared at your outfit. You were cute, as always. You kissed him on both cheeks, like usual and he tugged you inside his now radio booth! 

“ Welcome to my humble Radiobooth !” He said with glee as he shoved you on a chair. “ Welcome New Orleans to Alastor’s podcast ! Thank you for tuning in, today I’m thrilled to announce that I will not be alone, I am blessed with the best singer in all Lousianna !” he claimed and shoved the microphone to your face. You gave him a big smile and began to introduce yourself even saying he was the best radio host of all New Orleans. He couldn’t help giggling, you were playing your part perfectly. Maybe when he would have had his own radio station he would invite you as a very special guest. 

He kept talking as you read the notes he had just given you, he kind of expected you to fumble but once again you surprised him. You were natural, talking about what was written on his notes but then you went off script and made him laugh. You were amazing.

He kept doing his part as the radio host, explaining about why your sleepover has to be delayed to this day. You didn’t ask much more information but was happy he punched the boy who badmouthed his mother. Calling her such a disgusting word…

You both kept playing, sometimes he would forget about your presence, but when he noticed that his voice was the only thing he could hear he would turn toward you, ordering you to talk. You had a pretty voice, why not use it?

Well, he didn’t expect you to raise your voice against him when he said he couldn’t understand people liking sweet things. You were so convinced that there was something wrong with him for not liking sweets. Well, shouldn’t you feel appreciated ? You were the sweetest thing he ever laid his eyes upon and he kept you by his side, didn’t he? He closed his eyes still smiling as you kept blablating with his Mother’s laugh echoing in his bedroom. He liked it. He really liked this moment, if he could, he would like to record this moment so he could play it again and again.

After his Mother’s departure he went toward the letter he wrote with questions for you. You thought the game was over? Think again.

He asked you many questions, well of course the questions weren’t from him, but from the audience ! You answered to all of them honestly and there came the last one. He took the letter and read it to you.

“ And now, our last question before our guest’s performance. What do you think about our dear radio host Alastor ?”

He could see your answer in your eyes before you even opened your mouth. He already knew what you were about to say. He already knew. But he was waiting eagerly so you could say those words he desperately needed to hear. Say it, say it, say it…

“ He is the best!”

Yes, and so were you.

And you needed to know it.

He tugged you downstairs saying you needed to sing or the broadcast couldn’t end. He sat in front of the piano as you were flustered with his microphone in your hands.  He smiled at you and then closed his eyes. He wanted you to feel powerful. But first, he needed you to be less insecure about your abilities. So the first lesson would be: singing.

And sing you did. When you stopped being a coward and really sang like the singer that you were, he couldn't help but open his eyes to admire you. Even if some of the notes weren’t the best, you were giving it your all. You were giving him all of you at that moment. 

He couldn’t be more proud.

You were the best.

He couldn’t stop himself from crushing you against him as he said goodbye to your audience. Everything was perfect, you were here, his mother too and there were smiles on every lips. 

—--

“ We are still playing with Alastor! When we are finished, I will join you.” you said with a shy smile, holding a plushie. He was behind you, waiting for his Mother's command. Truthfully, he didn’t want you to go to sleep with his Mother right away. He still had other games he would like to play with you. As soon as his Mother accepted, you ran into his bedroom with him following you. You were on his bed with this…

“ What is it ?”

“ Well, first of all, it’s a He and he is a deer.”

He listened to your story. So you didn’t know how to swim, he would have to train you. You shouldn’t have so many weaknesses, it was dangerous. But then you started talking about how your deer plushie was protecting you. What were you saying, were you so tired that thinking was too difficult for you?

“ So, a deer saved your life from drowning…”

“ Yes, so my parents bought me this deer plushie so now, when I'm scared I can just squeeze him and feel safe!” you demonstrated your words by squeezing your plushie against you. “ Do you want to try it?” 

Did he want to try to squeeze a plushie? Not really. Not at all.

“ How can he protect you?”

You rolled your eyes at him before pushing your plushie in his arms. You forced him to hug it, once you were satisfied, you nodded and looked at Alastor who was clearly confused. “ Now, squeeze him !” 

Once again , you were looking at him with those eyes he couldn’t refuse anything. He suppressed a sigh and squeezed the deer against him and closed his eyes. It has your scent. He could feel himself relax. Yeah… It felt nice. If he were to hug you like this, would you also be this soft?  He was getting taller than you, have you noticed it? Maybe one day, he would be able to hug you just like this plushie? Would you feel safe in his arms? Or would you try to run away?

“ Mister Deer could be our very first guest in our radio show?”

Our.

He opened his eyes, staring right in your soul. Ah, you were panicking. Did you think he didn’t like that you use “ our” instead of “ his” ? You were so cute! 

“ I’d like that.” he whispered with a soft smile. “ Our first guest.”

You both laid on his bed, he still held the plushie against him. He really needed to find him a name, names are important. He listened to you blablating about how he was supposed to take care of the deer. It looked like a fawn for him but whatever.

“ Now that I have Mister Deer, who will protect you?” he asked, with no trace of fatigue on his face, he was used to not sleeping, because of nightmares or just because he needed to be aware of what his father’s doing in the house. You smiled tiredly at him, putting your head on his pillow.

“ Well, because you hold Mister Deer, it’s your job to protect me now.” 

It was his job to protect you..? He would do it. He would protect your smile, he would protect your dazzling eyes that seemed to never lose their sparkes.

“ … So, do I need to hug you?”

“ M-maybe but…Do you want to …?”

Does he want to?

He covered your eyes with his hand. Within the next five minutes you were asleep, he took off his hand and stared at your face.

 Did he want to hug you? 

He looked at the fawn in his arms. You were cuter than your plushie, so that made you huggable. He touched your cheeks with his finger but you didn’t move. He nudged you with his feet but you stayed asleep. You must be feeling very safe to sleep like this. He would awake at any noise in the house. 

Did he want to hug you? 

He wasn’t touching you but he could feel your body warm from here. Were you too hot? Did he need to take off the blanket ? But maybe you liked being warm? You were so problematic, did you know that? He stared at the ceiling, he knew he wasn’t going to fall asleep soon… 

Did he want to hug you?

He put the fawn between his body and yours, whispering in your ear. He hoped you would stay asleep, he didn’t want anyone to witness what he was going to say.

Did he want to hug you?

“ Yes, if you hug me back.”

—-----

He was blushing as his Mother was asking him if he slept well. She had a teasing glint in her eyes, she must have seen! When he woke up, he had you in his arms. He quietly left the bed, leaving the fawn with you. 

“ Alastor, this  was a very cute scene!” 

He didn’t care if this was cute, it was embarrassing ! He hid his face in his Mother dress. Could she just forget about it? 

“ Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.” she kissed the top of his head with a beaming smile. He smiled at her, his mother seemed happier since she found your mother back.  He liked it. He decided to go back to his room to see if you awakened but what was surprising was that he saw you with his microphone, talking with the fawn. How could the fawn protect you, it looked like you were the one protecting it with the way you were holding it against you. You were so strange.

“ I knew you would play with it.” you blinked at him. He looked at your bed hair and couldn’t help but smile. You looked silly like this ! “ Eamon told me you were using the microphone.” You tilted your head.

“ Who ?”

“ Our deer. He needs a name, don’t you think?” he stroked your plushie’s head while mumbling “ even if he looks more like a fawn than a deer…” 

“ He is a deer ! I’m sure you never saw one !” you huffed as you squeezed Eamon against your chest. 

“ Actually, I did when Father took me hunting.” he tilted his head as he saw your horrified face. Why did you take a step back?

“ You killed a deer ?”

“ No, I saw one. And most of them have brown fur, not like ours who have a white one.”  Why did you seem so confused?

“ But…  Why is your father taking you with him.. to hunt..?” you asked, confused.

To kill of course. 

But he couldn’t tell you that. His father wanted him to be a man, and man went hunting.  His father showed him how to kill while threatening him.

If you don’t want to end up like this, shut your trap.

When he first went hunting , he was terrified but now, he would just stare at the dead animal wondering if he will be the target next time. So far, he was alive. How lucky ! But once again, he couldn’t tell you that, could he? Would you be worried for him? 

“ It’s not for little girls, that’s for sure. You wouldn’t bear it.” He teased you.

“ Hey! I saw things too, I’m not a little girl!”

Did you? Were you like him? Did you see things that made you reconsider your morals? Did you see things that made you throw up? Did you see things that made you want to run away and never look back. Did you–

“ My father tried to eat my mother one day.”

…

Now, that was horrifying.

—--

You went downstairs to eat breakfast as he went to the bathroom to wash up. He stared at his body. The bruises were no longer on his body, that was nice. He went to the kitchen and sat next to you. Strange, you were looking at him like you knew something that he didn’t. Did his Mother tell you what happened ? No, she wouldn’t. So why–

“ Next time, we should have a sleepover at my house ! I could show you my room !” you smiled excitedly.

He tensed. He would love to go to your place, being able to see your house. How did you decorate your room? But he couldn’t leave his Mother alone with his Father. What if he decided to come back drunk and beat his mother while he was enjoying himself, free of worries, at your place. No, he couldn’t. He looked at you and there was the kicked puppy stare… 

“ I… I don’t like leaving my mother alone at home.”

“ But we will choose a day where your father is home!” you nudged him, trying to coat him to come with you at your house. “ Please Alastor… I really want you to come.” you pleaded as you held his forearms with your small hands. “ You don’t want to..?”

I want to.

He bit his lips, he wanted but he couldn’t. Wasn’t it the meaning of his life? Wanting without having the power to be able to do what he wanted. Fortunately, his Mother had sensed his discomfort and she offered to come with him for your next sleepover.

He relaxed. Yes, like this, it would be perfect.

The day went on as you both “gossiped” as his Mother called it. But unfortunately, it was time for you to leave. You asked Eamon to take care of him and then you asked him to take care of Eamon.  You were cute but as asked, he would take care of your Fawn.

—-------

He was in the forest with his Father, holding a rifle. It was a familiar feeling to hold the weapon in his little hand. He was used to it now. He was walking, alongside his father who was making so much noise, how could they hunt like this?

“ Here, be a useful brat, shoot it.”

He shot the partridges which fell down near him. Should he be afraid of himself ? He couldn’t feel anything as he watched the life leaving the animal’s eyes. It was almost boring, he was stronger so he won. It was that easy.

Would you be scared of him?

 He stopped himself. You were the first real friend he has ever made. If you were to see him like this, would you be afraid of him? Would you let him explain? He turned his head toward his father as the man pointed to a deer not too far. He could shoot it. It would be easy.

But then he saw your face. He knew this deer wasn’t the one who saved you but this time, for you, he would not kill it. He knew you wouldn’t forgive him.

“Alastor, shoot it..!” 

He just stared at the beautiful beast not too far from him. He stared into its eyes as the animal saw him before running off. How he envied the animal right now…

He heard his Father before feeling the punch in his face.

Ah, today it was going to be harder than usual.

“ You brat!” 

A kick in his stomach.

He wondered if you were sleeping right now? You always fell asleep so easily, he was almost envious. Maybe next time, he’ll ask you how you manage to find the sweet relief of falling asleep.

“ How useless!” 

Another kick in his stomach.

Ah, his Mother was going to be so sad once she saw him. Maybe his Father would let him wash himself up in the water? 

“ You nigga !”

Aand there it was. That disgusting word. He felt his Father grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him toward their home. His Father threw him inside his bedroom, Alastor’s head hitting the wall. 

Seemed like his mother was out buying groceries. Good, she wouldn’t have to see that. He stared at his Father, smiling. The man took off his belt and began to hit him on his back, forcing him to lay on his belly. Alastor stared in front of him and saw Eamon, staring back at him. He didn’t know why, but he moved. He stood up as his Father shouted at him to stay in his place. He took the plushie against him, keeping his back toward his Father but he stayed standing. 

His father hit him on his back with his belt once again but Alastor didn’t fall on the ground. He crushed the plushie against him as he closed his eyes. 

It was going to be over soon. He would see you this weekend, you would play together, you would show him your neighbourhood, you would give him something sweet to eat.

He opened his eyes and saw with sadness that Eamond was dirty with his own blood. He touched his nose, oh yes, his father did punch him in the forest. Aah, he needed to clean it before you came back.

His back felt wet and stinky. Was he sweating that much? Normally he could handle it better? He sniffed.

Ah, blood.

He didn’t remember when he passed out but when he woke up, Eamon was still in his arms.

“ ça va aller mon bébé, regarde Maman.” 

He looked at his Mother, her smile wobbling. He just closed his eyes and squeezed Eamon, the plushie didn’t have your scent anymore, but it has his blood’s. 

—---

He didn’t know why, but each week his Father would hit him with his belt on his torso or back even when his Mother was begging for him to stop. He had to go to school with bandages all over his body but his face. But he never cried, nor asked his Father to stop. He would just think that soon, you would come and the Hell he was living would come to a pause. Each time, he was thinking.

Next week.

But you never came. 

It’s been almost a month. Did something happen to you? Were you sick? Maybe he could ask his Mother to see if you were okay? He was on his bed, clinging to Eamon, his back was hurting so much he almost wanted to bite off his hand from the pain.

But no, he just stared in the void, losing his smile. And then, a thought struck him.  

Was killing a human any different than an animal?

His eyes widened, but before he could deepen his thoughts on the subject, he heard footsteps downstairs. Yours footsteps. It was you. He was sure of it. He heard the door smashed open, well, weren’t you full of energy today?

“ So unladylike. I could recognize your footsteps anywhere.”

He frowned when he didn’t hear any witty come back from you. Well? 

“ I.. I made your favorite dish..” you whispered, your voice trembling with each word as you tried to speak out loud.Why did you sound like that? “ Can… Can I see you?”

You wanted to see his pathetic self right now? You really had a bad timing, you’ll have to work on it, really.

“ No.”

“ Please…” you begged, it sounded like you were crying, why were you crying?. “ I was so worried… My father told me what happened–” 

“ What did he tell you?” His voice was colder than usual. He didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want anyone to know.

“ That… That you went hunting with your dad and–” you approached the bed and flinched when you felt his hand covering your eyes. So you were crying, he thought. He could feel your tears wetting the palms of his hands. “ Because of your father you- you have been hurt.” you cried, holding his wrist with one of your hands. “Alastor, I was so scared..!”

Me too, I was so scared.

“ Keep your eyes closed.”

He couldn't help himself. He hugged you. You were finally here. Hell was over for some time.  He wanted to see you so bad. He wanted to see you…

“Yes, I wanted to see you.”

“ Are you hurting?”

“ No. Remember Rules number two: I’m the strongest here.”

He smiled as he heard you laugh. Yes, everything would turn out nicely. He just had to be more careful. To be more observant. He would be the strongest for you. You’ll never have to worry for him to the point of crying. Nobody would keep your friendship from you. He sighed in relief, you were here…

“ I want to see your face.”

Mhn.. Well, as long as it is just his face. He stepped back and smiled at you. You didn’t have to worry.

“ Be my guest.”

 His smile widened when he saw your confused face. You must have thought he would have injuries on his face heh? 

“ You said you wanted to see my face, not my injuries.” he smiled cunningly at you while holding Eamon against his chest. 

“ Why do our deer have pink…red spots on him?” you tilted your head, stroking its fur.

Ah, right. His Mother had tried but she couldn’t wash all the blood he had lost on the fawn each week. Were you going to be upset ? He didn’t protect your fawn even though he told you he would take care of it. Were you going to be disappointed in him?

“ I’m sorry. I bled on him.”

He watched as you sat next to him and gently kissed his cheeks, resting your lips against his skin. Did you know it was the spot his father had punched weeks prior ? Of course, you wouldn’t know. He only could feel your lips, the pain in his back wasn’t there anymore. He squeezed your hand. He missed you… He missed this…

“ I missed you.” you both said.

He smiled softly, as you began to explain all the week he has missed. He felt his heart soared when you explained how you had made a scene so you could come and see him. He had to tease you, because if not, he felt like he would explode with happiness. You have missed him, his presence was something you wanted, he was important for you.

Unfortunately, you had to go.

Well, Hell is forever, right?

He went downstairs, keeping his hand around yours. You seemed so worried. He looked at you after your mother asked about his well being. Why were you so quiet ? 

“ I promise, I’ll see you soon.”

“ You promise? How do I know if you are going to be sick, or injured once again?”

Oh that’s why.

You were so cute. Unfortunately, he couldn’t promise to never be injured again, he would be breaking his promise tonight. What kind of promise could he conjure that would make you both ties to each other forever.

“ Let’s make a deal.”

He approached his face close to yours and kissed your forehead. You blushed and he couldn’t feel bad about it, red suited you.

“ You always kiss me good morning, so now, I’ll kiss you goodbye. Now, you owe me a good morning kiss.” he smiled at you teasingly as he took a step back. “ Do we have a deal?”

Please, say yes.

“ Deal.”

He smiled, now he knew that even though he would suffer because of his father, you would always come back to him, healing him without being aware of it. You were his special.. Something. You were the one painting a true smile on his lips. You were his special person.

Tag List: lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @boogiemansbitch @sodavizz @tessemerick @slytherin4ever

[puckarchives]

personally, i found it very attractive: l. hughes

blurb: in which an interview with the devils' upcoming rookie takes the intern by suprise. / word count: 1.5k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

To be fair, all that I wanted to do was leave the Prudential Center, go home, and take a long bath. The game between the New Jersey Devils and the New York Rangers had gone into overtime, and as much as I loved my job, it truly had been a long day.

Flashing my lanyard at the security guard standing outside of the Devils' locker room, I was ushered into the room, joining the growing cohort of other journalists; writers who had made their entire career off of reporting on the comings-and-goings in the sports world. Now that the team had been solidified with major additions, and taken players off of their Injury Report roster, the Devils had put up a good fight against their Hudson River rivals.

Grabbing my phone and opening voice notes, I made a beeline for the one player that I needed to cover— Luke Hughes, one of the newest additions to the Devils, and a hell of a defenseman that I needed to talk to on his play earlier on the ice. And, thanks to the work I had put in weeks before trying to get this same interview, I had the opportunity to actually talk to him, instead of having to wait around in a circle while other journalists droned on (and asked) practically the same questions over and over again.

I had fallen in love with sports journalism because of this— because of the opportunity to speak with the players who have it their all on that ice, and who had a true passion for the game they played.

I once again flashed my I.D. to one of the team's publicists, Sharyl, and she smiled over at me— shaking my hand and calling over Luke.

"Hi Y/N! How are you holding up over this season?" she asked as we stood in our corner, both angled to see the player coming towards us.

"Hi Sharyl, I'm doing well! Just finished up my third-year, and I just need this last interview to finish up the project I've been working on these past few weeks," I told her. It was true— I had been working on this player profile for the past few weeks, and currently, this single nineteen-year-old rookie was the only person left on my list before I could publish the article that I was hoping would help my career.

"Oh that sounds so good, sweetheart! I know just how many hours you've been putting in here, and I'm so excited to read!" the older lady said.

"Here's Luke now!" she said, saying hello to the defenseman, and then turning back to me.

"Luke, this is Y/N, the reporter I mentioned from ESPN's journalism internship cohort. She's just going to go over a few things with you, and finish up her profile," she told the curly-haired boy.

"Hi, Luke, I'm Y/N, it's nice to meet you!" I spoke up, putting my hand out for him to shake.

It seemed to take him a few moments to catch up with me; and, to be fair, that was to be expected. I was his age, and from the way Sharyl was speaking about me, you'd expect me to be much older, or even a man. When I had begun working for ESPN's College Internship program, I had started with baseball as my main coverage sport— slowly growing from that to hockey as the seasons changed, and then, finally, landing on the Devils as my main beat at the beginning of the season. With all that, however, I knew the way people looked at me— questioning as to why an eighteen year old college student was interviewing men in sports that others thought I didn't even know existed, or even know how they worked. So, his reaction was expected.

The six-two boy in front of me seemed to be struck out of whatever stupor he was in, however, and shook my hand back.

"Hi, Y/N, it's nice to meet you. Sharyl said you'd be stopping by," he said. He was quiet, and I could tell how much of a toll the game had on him— despite being freshly showered, he sported his signature smirk— looking down at me as the cheers and celebrations kept it up behind him. 

"Yeah! I just have a few questions to ask, but do you want to follow me out to the media office? It shouldn't take too long, especially since I'm sure you want to go celebrate your win tonight," I told him.

Not really looking for a response, I looked over the boy— he was, admittedly, cute. His eyes were full of life— and he filled out his after-game clothing well. That, and the coupling of beauty marks over his face just enhanced how handsome he was. God, get it together, I told myself. You're on the job!

Finding ourselves in one of the various media offices hosted in the Prudential Center's basement, I sat down across from the rookie, and waited until we were both situated to start the interview. 

“So, thank you for sitting down with me! It was a long game out there, but you’re really pushing through,” I laughed, trying to ease the tension I could feel on my end. I really didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of this very cute boy, and even less knowing that he was a professional player in the sport I covered heavily. 

“No— no it’s all okay, no worries,” he said, “I’d rather be here than listening to Shmido trying to recap the entirety of the second-half,” he laughed. 

“Well, you’re the first to say that,” I smiled back. “So, now that you’re on your second official NHL game, I kind of have to point out— you went from playing for Michigan, and then skating for the league in just a few weeks, and you admittedly have had a huge transformation—” I started. 

“Yeah I got faster,” he laughed, his cheeks tinging a shade of pink, and I couldn’t really lie to myself and blame it on his earlier celebrations. “Don’t worry, you can say it— Jacky has.” 

“Well, I’ll be honest, it’s really been great to watch. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you the entire game,” I said, and then admittedly felt my own cheeks flush, because truly, what was I thinking? Was I openly flirting with a guy I was supposed to be interviewing? Before I could feel myself blush even further, or even make the situation even more awkward, the silence was broken with Luke’s laugh— a stark and loud chuckle that made me look up automatically. His blush had now traveled from his cheeks to the tip of his hair, peeking out of his wet curls. 

He ran his hand through his hair, “Well I mean, that’s definitely great to hear— are you serious?” he said, and for the life of me, I couldn’t tell if he was joking— if he was making fun of my obvious lack of flirting ability, or egging me on. 

“Very,” I said. “It was a great game, and the goal you made in OT was just so smooth! Personally, I found it very attractive” I said; I had spent the entirety of the game looking at Luke skating— the smooth and strategic moves he made on the ice, passing the puck back and forth as if he was moving in water. He was beautiful on the ice— weaving between the opposing team’s players quicker and way more efficiently to the point where they couldn’t even keep up with him. 

“And I have to point out the pass you made to Jack in the second-half and the assist you sent to Nico! I haven’t seen a lot of puck work that really resembled that in such a while, and—” I cut myself off, trying not to let myself ramble any farther in front of the boy I could feel myself crushing on. 

“I mean that’s really a high compliment, thank you,” he said. “I mean, I know this might not be entirely appropriate for the interview, but I’m free after this, if you are two?” he asked. This had to be some kind of cliche, I thought, not really thinking that he had just asked me out. 

I did, however, hope he wasn’t egging me on— and, besides, after this profile came out, I wouldn't be covering the NJ Devils until next season, so why not? Why not spend an afternoon with a hot hockey player who I had already called cute?  “You know what? I am also free, and I was going to get dinner, if you wanted to join me,” I responded, hoping the youngest Hughes would take me up on the offer too. “I also don’t have class tomorrow, so yes, I am very free after this,” I laughed.

The boy in front of me smiled up, pushing the curls falling in his face back, and saying a quick “Well, then let’s get this thing started.”

[strawberri-elixir]

Sleepless nights

╰⇢ 9. Good shit

Warnings: just yuta being in denial again?? (no surprise tho)

note: THERE’S WRITING AFTER THE FIRST 10 IMAGES you don’t wanna miss it :] also thank you for all the support?! i never thought there would be many people who would want to read this series. but i’m thankful for all of you <3

“Alright. So how about we all split up into pairs while we go around the mall?” Nobara took a sip of her drink as you all began leaving the food court.

“That would probably be easier.” Yuta nodded.

“But there’s seven of us.” You added.

“You guys will just have to be in a group of three.” Maki slung her arm over Nobara’s shoulder, giving a sly grin to the black haired boy.

“I don’t think-” Yuta tried to protest.

“Perfect! Inumaki, you’ll come with us!” You interjected, taking a hold of the boy’s hand.

Maki watched with an amused look as Yuta glared at her. He knew exactly what she was trying to do, but it’s not like he could do anything about it.

“Let’s go then!” You began dragging the two boys away.

The three of you then began strolling through the mall, pointing at windows and looking inside the stores. You did most of the dragging, pulling Yuta and Inumaki into whatever store caught your eye.

“Look at this!” You smack Yuta’s arm to get his attention. The three of you were currently stationed at the front counter of an antique shop, looking at all the various trinkets that were displayed behind the glass barrier.

In this case, you were focused in on a simple silver ring. The obviously well-loved wedding band sat in a velvet box, practically begging for attention. You couldn’t help but stare at it.

Small engravings ran through the material, creating intricate designs across the entire surface. A truly beautiful piece of jewelry. It almost drew you in, in some way. Like a magnet.

“I’m almost scared to ask how much that is.” Yuta chuckled.

“It can’t be as bad as you think.” You smile. “How much is this ring?” You ask the old lady behind the counter, pointing at the silver ring.

“That one? It’s 50 dollars. But for a young one like yourself, I’ll let you have it for 40.” She smiled.

As much as you appreciated the kindness, you politely declined. Not because you felt bad, but because you simply couldn’t afford it. It was times like this when you really wished you had a job.

“I can pay for it.” Yuta offered.

“No way! I’d actually feel bad if you payed for this. 40 bucks is a lot even for you!” You immediately shut him down.

It’s true, 40 dollars is a lot for broke high school students, even if they have jobs. You couldn’t allow Yuta to spend that kind of money on you.

“You sure? You’ve been eyeing that ring for a solid 15 minutes while we looked around the store.”

“Positive.” You gave the ring one more glance before forcing yourself to leave the store. “Let’s go. Any more staring and I’ll regret not having enough money.”

“Alright, I just want to look at some of those old journals before we go, just wait outside for me.” Yuta shooed you away.

You roll your eyes with a smile, turning your attention to Inumaki as the two of you walked out. “I bet he’s gonna take a long time.”

The two of you found a bench to wait for Yuta, sitting down side by side, the two of you sat in silence. It wasn’t long before Inumaki pulled out his phone, swiping to a game and started playing.

“What are you playing?” You lean over and watch the boy tap away on his screen. He angled his phone to you, displaying a familiar game layout. “Oh! You play Genshin?”

The boy gives you a simple not. It was obvious he wasn’t much of a talker, but that didn’t bother you.

“That’s cool. I don’t really play but I really like watching this one streamer play.” You started going on about the game. “If I’m annoying you, just tell me, okay?”

“You’re not bothering me. Keep going.” He mumbled.

It was the first time you ever heard him actually speak to you. His voice was low, lower than Yuta’s at least. A little husky from the lack of use. But soft at the same time.

You couldn’t help but smile. It was like the next step in your already growing friendship. You continued to watch the boy play, leaning on his shoulder as time went on.

Masterlist | Next

fun facts:

— even though she’s all for the chaos, maki does genuinely want yuta to be happy and confess his feelings

— inumaki has his phone always on do not disturb because of the amount of notifications he gets

— the original monster energy drink is yuta’s favourite because he rarely drinks them (you try to get him to try different flavours but he just doesn’t like them)

taglist:

@sur-i-ki @aespaforlifersyall @camilo-uwu @butterflyqueen234 @shinsukeee @tanchosanke @emii4evr @lees-chaotic-brain @you-always-made-me-blush @jayathelostdragon @chilichopsticks @polarbvnny @instantmusico @sad-darksoul @hellyyy06 @rosieandthethorns @zellwa @iluv-ace @h3xi2g0n3 @morgyyyyyyy @bellaabee082

Bold means I for some reason can’t tag you! I don’t know why :[

[milknhonies]

The Negatives of Shooting People

Chapter 2 || MasterList || Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: A new job creates a new problem for August who decides he needs to remind you of his power. You let Lloyd inside, and he has an offer to make.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Masturbation, Referenced Non-Con Events, Implied Illegal Weapon Arms Trading, Threats, Manipulation, Stalking Journalism.

Pairing: Kingpin!August Walker X F!reader

Word Count: 9.4k

Author Notes: in my mind and casting, Jude Driver is played by Adam Driver. Wesley Gibson is played by James McAvoy. Brandon Sullivan is played by Michael Fassbender. Katarina Vikander is played by Alicia Vikander.

Inspiring Song: "Woman." by Ke$ha.

10:23am Thursday 8th August 2024, Brisbane CBD.

“These photos Miss Y/L/N, they’re magnificent. I haven’t seen quality this good since…well…never really…When can you start?”

You grinned, sitting across from the head editor of one of the smaller local newpapers.

You knew you had to find a job quickly…you were sick of the employment agency and their unhelpful attitude. You knew if you were going to remain safe and take down the billionaire asshole, you needed to be the best version of yourself.

It had been a three days since you first met that monster... August Walker. And he had seemingly invaded your every thought. He was there in the back and front of your mind haunting and taunting you with his smirking lips and roguishly deep voice.

The gentleman who sat in front of you had no idea. That was something you were okay with, how could anyone know? No one knew. You hadn’t called or replied to any text messages Lloyd had sent.

You made a resume portfolio of your best photos you’d taken since your first camera your dad ever bought you. Both Polaroid and electronic. You still hadn’t forgotten that August had stolen one of your father’s cameras from the day he forced you to cum on the recliner chair.

You knew you were inexperienced in journalism…but your photography was a master skill unlike any other.

Your successful interview, you put it up to a great sense of confidence, as well.

“Right now if you’ll have me,” you winked. He was an older man of an older generation. Clearly he knew and was a deep fan of Australian banter that borderlines the aesthetics of flirtation. You were a young woman and he was an older man, the math was simple. Bat your lashes, pretend to be coy and then slide in with a sarcastic remark or sexual innuendo.

He laughed and leant over his desk. You shook your new bosses hand.

He liked that very much. ‘Of course he would, he’s practically old enough to be someone’s perverted uncle.’

“Oh most definitely…” he said biting his bottom lip, he was milking the banter.

He was a handsome even for a classic perverted elder fellow. John Luther was a grey fox so the ladies might say. You were sure that from now on never to truly trust a man…so when he winked back and looked down your shirt- at your chest, you smiled wider, ‘predictable men…he is going to be easy to manipulate…’

You had to thank August one day…if he hadn’t hurt and humiliated you the way he did…you would never have felt the rage of all women and the desire to use your assets to get what you wanted in this Man’s World.

You sat back a lit and lifted your chest as you gave a big happy sigh while watching Mr Luther continuously ogle your chest.

It sent a shiver even down your spine thinking about it…entering a villainess era…a femme fatale story….a tale of revenge and justice.

“I admire a woman with confidence,” he said sucking his teeth, his right hand slide down beneath his desk out of view. You had half a mind to assume he was palming his dick in his trousers.

“So how about I assign you your first assignment? See how you go? I’ll even let you choose…”

“Choose?” you asked with a faux coyness, fluttering your lashes.

“Well, we have a very interesting story idea in regards to the Woolloongabba Doggy Day care that just moved to East Brisbane, rumour has it that the business is understaffed for the amount of dogs they keep in care. And they only use half of the required sanitization required. A spread of kennel cough and many dogs having their ears ripped off by other larger dogs belonging to rich clients the owner of the doggy day care refuses to lose business towards.”

Oh dear, you noted, that sounded tragic….it’s a good thing you never had a pet as a kid. It would hurt too much to be in that position. Hearing a pet dog had its ear ripped off by savage untrained dogs.

“...And the other case?” You sweetly chirped.

His smile fell, “There’s a certain gentleman that’s running around allegedly smuggling drugs and arm deals…” he repeated, “’Allegedly’…”

He rolled back in his chair to reach for a folder on his bookshelf, flicking through it.

Your craning neck had time to catch the outline of his prick beneath his pants. ‘Oh yes...this man is putty in my hands.’ When he swivelled back, you dashed your eyes back to his desk trinkets and smiled at him.

“A bloke named August Walker selling to or buying from an old money American philanthropist Brandon Sullivan…”

‘No fucking way’….just your luck…

You were going to fucking take it no matter what….

Luther grimaced, “It’s a big task so I won’t judge you for not taking it. I’m just hoping to catch the sons of bitches at it. It would be a huge story for media not even those wankers at seven, nine or ten news could think to report.”

You reached over his desk to steal his pen and stick note pad. You took down the name he mentioned on a sticky note- Brandon Sullivan...you made sure to memorise it well.

“How about we even make those conniving morons at sky news jealous, sir?” You smirked and watched as the rockets soared in his eyes with his white tooth grin.

He laughed hard.

He wiped his hand down his chin, “I love a girl with ambition Miss Y/L/N. I’m sure you won’t disappoint me! The dead line for photos is in a week, he’s having some soiree on next Friday or something so it’s got to be before then because you’re never gonna be able to enter those clubs, chicky. Respectfully.”

You smile and shake his hand again, “Mr Luther, I swear…I’ll give you the best goddamn shots you’ve ever seen of that criminal.”

Now your man hunt had truly commenced, you smiled to yourself. Who knew that revenge could come so easily and quickly…

Luther gave you your own cubicle to work in. A place to hang and edit your photos. A place to file your evidence. He may have mentioned that the work they did in his agency was on par with the police but by no means legally police work. So if the cops arrived, you stayed hidden and kept your fucking mouth shut....

You had a job and began researching the bastards name again on your laptop, compiling the sources from Google and the notes from Luther’s folder files.

You discovered the following about August J. Walker.

He was born in New Jersey. He was twice your age and almost as old as your father. He had a plethora of connections in businesses from alcohol distillery to Chinese restaurant vendings. Actually you were confident that a restaurant he help partnership over had a familiar logo. You tapped your lip and wondered briefly if your father ever delivered there as a truck driver.

August was a fan of European and Asian based foods and sold it at his clubs. He owned over fifteen around the world. One of his biggest in Australia was The Lions Lounge, it was on the edge of Fortitude Valley. It was for the richest social elites of the country. The price of food alone was almost your weeks rent.

On the website of his club you could see information regarding the tightship of his security. It seemed supreme so there wasn’t a chance of you going to his club without a fat purse and invitation.

A party was coming up, a celebration for the ten year anniversary of its opening. A soiree with a “The roaring 1920s.” Theme. You scoffed at the cliché.

It was exclusively invite only, it was only on the website so that those who received a invitation could reply a rsvp. And with you fresh out of luck of an invite like Luther even said, there was little to no chance of clawing your way inside.

So...that’s when you had to resort to extra creativity. You held up the sticky note and smiled.

09:07am Wednesday 14th August 2024, Robertson Brisbane.

August Walker was a man with a craving to remain in power. He had fought tooth and nail to get where he was and for now he felt incredibly comfortable…he had enough money to buy the fucking country...he had the power to make politicians kneel and kiss his shoes if he demanded it. To the police, with his legal team, he was currently untouchable.

He could literally have any woman he wanted…but he wanted you. Since that night he first saw your photo, he starved. He had given you time to mourn. Now you were alone and he righteously believed you needed him.

Yet to his surprised pleasure, he liked the fight and push you tried to dish out on him. Your guts to go to the police sent blood to his cock. He hadn’t expected it. He believed you’d roll over and cry only. He never predicted you’d immediately leave the apartment before he could wish you a good morning or afternoon after leaving you drugged up. He snooped for hours in your father’s bedroom and yours. He’d flicked through your old school reports and photos. He tried tidying your mess and clutter, washing your vomit covered duvet and even had cigarette to pass the time.

So when he received that call from the police requesting his presence, instead of anger, he felt surprise. Not many could surprise him. But you did...

He pushed away from his desk and rubbed his eyes chuckling,  you were definitely a tasty little thing.

It made his dick hard when he remembered you crying beneath him. He loved to fantasise your pathetic excuses and spitfire words. He only wished you’d push the boundary more. The more you fought, the sweeter the submission.

He pulled out his ‘other’ phone. His ‘business’ phone. The phone no police would ever know or see. He swiped his thumb across the screen and groaned at the sweet nude thing he took photos of the night you’d both met. Oh how pitifully adorable you were with your desperate pleas and confusion as the pill quickly broke down into your blood stream.

He wished he had a video of it. How he teased your phone away from you. How he mocked you. Half of it he imagined you probably didn’t remember. After all it wasn’t long that you were totally out of it, limp and softly snoring.

He liked how much control he had over you. Laying the strips over your hairy body and tearing it away to be baby smooth as he liked it. How delicate you looked as he rubbed the baby oil into your skin to settle any potential irritation. Perhaps it was sick of him to prefer you like this. He sighed, licking his bottom lip, staring at the photo he took of your freshly waxed pussy.

He had done sicker things to other people. But you were someone who didn’t deserve this. That is where the guilt lied. You didn’t deserve this and August Walker fucking new it deep in his bones.

He wasn’t shy of hurting innocence but your situation was different. This was personal.

So really could he hold it against you for going to the police? No... And besides...his false alibi had been solid... especially after the rape kit evidence had been tampered with, concluding as inconclusive...

Something about the thought of making you submit but never fully breaking, constantly challenging him- turned him on so much, he found it impossible to work. He slapped his phone down and chewed the inside of his cheek while he considered calling up Natalie, one of his go to escorts. His payable whores. She was expensive but she knew how to suck him off to completion quickly and he wanted to focus on work and finalising the details of his party in two days, not on you.

As fate would have it….he wouldn’t have a choice…the phone rang on his desk.

He pressed the reviewer to his ear and turned to look out the window.

“Walker.”

“It’s Gibson.”

He smiled and leaned back in his rolling chair, “Ah Wesley, yes, how are you mate?”

“You’ve got a little problem, sir,” he heard his public relation specialist sigh, “A tail.”

“Oh?”

“I’m sending the email now,” the click clack typing of the keyboard echoed in the headset Wesley wore,” It seems the paper has started to find better journalists…”

The email notification came in quickly. The ping from his monitor forced August to spin around in his chair. He pursed his lips and scrolled to click the link.

He hovered the mouse arrow down and noticed the collection of photos taken of him in the high class restaurants talking with a old underworld buddy of his. Some of the images however were incredibly exposing. His hand was shaking Brandons in one when he made a export deal with him, another photo showed August’s fingers touching a contract, his eyes looking at a phone Brandon was holding with images of guns. This was not good at all…

“What the fuck…” his hand pressed to his lips, he mused, “The photographer was smart, he knows how to pick a decent angle, Jesus what camera took this?” He clicked another photo, “These details…you can practically see every pore on Brandon’s bloody face…”

His mouth felt dry. He knew he needed to hire Natalie’s services now, the stressed building up had him tense. His erection had vanished, now it was a matter of pain in his shoulders and back.

He scrolled further and stared at the headlines jumping out. “Playboy or Pathological Criminal.”, “Party King or King Pin.”, “Australia’s own insider terrorist.”

His eyes widened at seeing the publishing office. John Fucking Luther & Co. News.

His jaw cracked with the tightness he clenched. No. He didn’t have time for this shit.

“She, sir,” The lackey corrected, “Newest of Luther’s flock. His word usually isn’t credible but this? This is going to be hard, expensive press to erase or cover up. Other news outlets are fighting over the rites.”

She...

He picked up a pen and clicked the button. Why was it even that important.

She...

She? His eyes sharpened. He looked closer at the photos on his screen. Something about the photo style reminded him of something earlier he had seen the previous week. So many….on a wall…beside a bed…filled with a captivating woman he defiled…but surely not you? Surely not you...

“What did you say?”

“Sir the cost to-”

He shook his head and sighed into the phone, cutting of the agent, “No, no, I meant the photographer. You said ‘she’? Luther? Are you sure this is real? His lot are the worst, always blurry or grainy if they’re lucky…who the fuck is this new photographer or editor or whoever the fuck is getting these images.”

“We can only assume,” Wesley mumbled, “You’ve had this little thing on your tail for the passed few days, she tries to be sneaky we’ve noted. We didn’t expect her to release decent pictures…we followed her back to the Luther office. The angles fit the locations we have caught her in.”

His thumb pressed hard against the pen.

“Show me this bitch,” he growled under his breath.

Another email ping and a link later, your face filled the computer screen. Your eyes burned him right back…you were in a few photos. Some where you hid among a roof top, another you were hiding in a corner at the restaurant, and finally one where you were just in a park looking down at your camera probably going over the shots you’d taken.

“Want us to deal with her, sir?” he suddenly heard Wesley ask. Deal with her...Destroy her reputation...beat her up…sell her…or kill her....no…no...not his new puppy.

He blinked with bewilderment and hummed, “No...” He cleared his throat, “No, no thankyou, Wesley. I know this kid; don’t worry…” he smirked, “This is just a simple misunderstanding…bit of…play. Trust me.”

Oh how he could’ve whipped the skin from your back raw for this if you were anyone else...

“Sir, if you can’t get her to stop, if she’s going to keep doing this…” Gibson warned, “Anything more in depth- you’ll wind up in court or prison at the worst, the pigs aren’t taking the pay like they used to…”

August shook his head and sighed, “It wouldn’t be the first time Wesley. Ignore her. I’ll deal with it. She’s my responsibility.”

His public relations officer seemed to pause for a moment. As if he had something else to say but he knew better than to total talk back to August Walker.

“Alright sir, have a good evening,” August heard before he slapped the phone, hanging up.

He scooted closer to the screen and scrolled back at the photos you’d taken. He bit his lip and chuckled, shaking his head at your profiling photo, “You little-...you want to play this game? Fine, now it’s my turn.”

He began dialling up a new phone number. He held it back up to his ear and waited for the receiver to pick up.

“Jude mate, I’m gonna need you to develop some photos for me...oh yes,” he replied pinching the pen in his hand, “Red room style.”

06:19pm Wednesday 14th August 2024, Woolloongabba, Brisbane.

“Who needs a man? Huh!” You said to yourself testing out the new bolts and chain locks you installed on the front door. They rattled and locked. They didn’t budge when you jiggled the handle and pulled. You still had three more you planned to drill in.

You wiped the sweat off your forehead and grinned proudly. This is something your dad should have taught you how to do. Thankfully with the help of a YouTube tutorial and a bit of bravery you managed to take full control and ownership of your front door.

If your new landlord wanted to charge you for damages to his door, so be it, as long as this kept you protected from him while you slept at night that was all that mattered. He’d either have to pick every complicated lock, guess or, he’d have to hire the damn firefighting crew to use a battering ram.

When you opened the door again to test it a second time, a squeak of surprised popped from your lips. You clenched your dad’s power tool tightly.

A man in a black suit and black sunglasses stood outside the door with an large yellow envelope in his hand. He held it out to you silently. He looked ominous and familiar, he wore leather gloves…your eye widened, he was August’s driver.

You glanced between him and his hands. Every second was a risk you weren’t sure you could keep taking. You hesitantly pinched the bottom of his flat package and he let go. He pulled the edge of his sunglasses down his face, looking at the plethora of door locks.

‘What was his name again? Judea, Judas?’

He said quietly, “It might be better if you open it inside...” his eyes glanced at the door again before smirking, “Nice locks...pretty crappy if you think it’s going to stop him though.”

‘Him...August Walker...’

You stood still in shock. He gracefully spun on his heel and left. Your tongue caught in your throat…what the fuck was this?

The package was as thick as your hand.

You had to know it was from August…I mean who else could it be from? Especially since you speculated it was his driver that delivered it…especially since there was a massive cursive ‘A.J.W’ on the tab of the envelope.

You held your breath and walked hurriedly backwards inside.

Your teeth caught your upper lip. You slammed the door shut and locked all the locks before going to the couch, disposing the drill on the coffee table, and tearing open the envelope.

You pinched the top wide open and hovered your eyes inside. There was a white papery page ripped out from a note book. You pulled it out and unfolded it to read his handwritten warning.

“Careful Puppy, you’re lucky my men didn’t bite when they sniffed you out, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I think you need a break from your little hobby. So I’m going to remind you...I have copies of these. Scratch me again and I’ll bite back. Stay down or I will put you down.”

Your mouth became dry as your eyes raced over that one last line again.

‘Stay down or I will put you down.’

When you ‘put down’ an animal, it usually means death…your insides grew cold. You were confident this was a strict warning, not a threat but a promise, August walker was telling you to stop investigating or he would kill you…

Your hands shook uncontrollably. You wanted them to stop. Your body felt the reeling anxiety. You dumped the rest of the envelope over the counter. All the content spilled across the entire floor. A camera came clattering out. Your father’s camera in fact.

Inside were photos of you. A photo of you working in the editor office. A photo of you walking in the deli section at the underground Woolworths grocery store and photos of you sitting at the Queen street bus station, even the bus numbers showed up. The bus 200 via Carindale. Then at the bottom of the spread out deck of photos were the shots from the night he forced you to cum on the recliner and the night he had drugged you, naked on his bed.

Your teeth clenched hard.

You felt your eyes grow hot quickly with tears. You didn’t like how pathetic and helpless you appeared, covered in tape, and totally lost in the bliss of his sexual torture. You didn’t realise how sweaty it had made you until noticing the intense wet shimmer over your body in the photo, the hot light of the camera shone reflectively from your skin.

You closed your eyes and choked on a sob. He made his point loud and clear but it wasn’t fair. Why could he get away with all of this? You wanted to tear all the photos up one by one until they were tiny papers the size of your pinky nail.

But they sat in a piled collection on your coffee table.

Your hand cupped your mouth as you fought your wails. You clenched your teeth and stomped your foot.

You kept rereading his note. Memorising his handwriting. His Y’s had a straight tail that didn’t curve upward. It made you hate him twice as much as irrational that detail was.

August hadn’t come back since then. He had not made any personal contact since he cornered you in your father’s bedroom. It wasn’t the last time you saw him though…you saw him almost daily, but you confidently were sure he never saw you until now. You were gathering all the evidence possible to put him in the doghouse...

You pressed yourself against the wall and slid down it on your back until your bottom hit the floor.

Now what would you do? Take photos and write about abused animals instead? Always worrying about August coming into your home to take his revenge for the humiliation and defamation you brought to his name?

You settled your hands into your lap. Your heart was pounding. You could hear every awful thud.

Your phone came to life. Lloyds number ran across your screen.

‘Oh god, Lloyd. Sweet, wonderful Lloyd. Maybe he could help me.’

Hitting the green button, you picked up the phone and cleared your throat, “Hey, how are you?”

His voice was a cool balm, “I’m getting on alright. I thought I’d call and check up on you. You haven’t been very chatty over text is all. I still think you should move Y/N.”

Lloyd kept you as updated as he could. He said he interviewed August a few days ago and the excuse was laughable. August had lied about being at his club during the time he had been with you. He had staff members who could vouch for him, Lloyd suggested they’d been paid off and supposedly security footage, all which Lloyd assured must’ve been edited. It was comforting knowing out of everyone, Lloyd stayed true in his belief that you were a victim.

Another tear rolled down your face, your voice became shaky, “Yea...I think you’re right. Lloyd...things have been happening...and...can you- can you just come over please?”

You were breaking down hard and couldn’t stop the wave of anguish coming over you. The detective was compassionate and said softly, “Of course. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

When the phone disconnected you rubbed your face and flared your nostrils. Seeing the photos made you feel dirty, unclean. You decided a quick shower before Lloyd arrived might help you relax and calm down from the absolute panic attack creeping under your skin. You stood under the hot spray and tried to control your breathing.

And under the water your thoughts persisted to race. A particular question shot through you.

‘Why would he even send those to me?’ Your eyes shut. ‘Why’? If you were just some women, he liked to fuck and humiliate... ‘Then why didn’t he just come in and do it in person?’

It was like a pin had dropped. Your eyes flashed wide open, and you turned off the water. You scrubbed your face and got out of the shower, rushing to put your pyjamas on. You almost slipped on the tiles and hard wood.

You crashed to your knees at the coffee table and spread the photos around trying to find that one.

The one where you were sitting inside the editor building at your cubicle. It had been taken from a low angle on the street. A small laugh escaped you. If he sent you an image of you at the office he knew where you worked, and who you worked for…he had read your articles...a light laugh escaped your parting lips. Tears dripped from your eyes, not from grief or fear, oh no, it was relief. Now it made sense.

'Of course!' August had read your articles...and they- you chuckled; they frightened him!!! Yes, maybe not to the extent of full fear, but enough that he felt it fit and necessary to send these too you. He felt threatened. The articles were piling up on speculation against him now in the paper. You were walking a thin line between defamation and creative liberties in alleged speculations, but Mr Luther assured it was legal in the laws of journalism and gossip.

If August had copies of your lewd rape photos, if he published them…you didn’t care...what was the point in caring about that?

You knew humans could be animals. It didn’t matter what was seen. Anyone can masturbate to anything, even just a selfie – so an image of you cumming on the recliner chair was really nothing at the end of the day…sure you might lose your job but the confidence to get you there would be used in the future again. And it would be all worth it just to watch the cuffs slap over August’s wrist. Because even if he’d never go away, locked up for your abuse, you could at least drag him further down with as many criminal activity charges as possible.

You glanced at the note he wrote…maybe he didn’t even write this. If he really wanted you dead, you were sure you would be. This wasn’t a threat, this was a game. He was toying with you, clearly trying to scare you into stopping any investigations of his hidden underground work.

Little did he know, he had no idea that your rage and hunger for revenge was greater than your fear of him.

You pinched a photo to the light and smirked. If only a week ago, this poor defenceless girl knew how her life would change for good...her eyes the mirror of yours. You slapped it flat in the table and pinched your eyes. August was definitely no talent in taking photos.

You smiled recalling how Luther reacted to the first photo you brought him the third day of working...

02:36pm Thursday 8th August 2024, Brisbane CBD.

On the sticky note you’d written down a name Mr Luther had shared. You looked up that name, Brandon Sullivan, with deep dive searches and found very little of him…however he did have a single photo up on his Facebook, he was holding a gorgeous woman.

Once you had reversed search the woman’s face, Katarina Vikander, you could have peed with excitement. She was some Swedish ballet dancer and super model. She was Brandons girlfriend. And she was happy to share a dozen photos over all her social media platforms…and yes, Brandon clearly wasn’t a fan of his personal paparazzi, but there were hiccups in his cover ups.

Katarina had taken a selfie on a balcony; her sunglasses reflected her phone and Brandon coming out of their hotel bathroom.

Behind Katarina was a marina in the background. That area was very rich and popular and easy to find. You recognised the area only by chance. The were staying at the JW Marriot Gold Coast Resort and Spa. You could see the JW Marriot logo on a bath robe in a previous photo while she wore a creamy face mask with cucumber slices over her eyes.

Katarina seemed to have this obsession with a Americana aesthetic, her favourite artist was in her saved Instagram stories, Lana del Rey.

The caption of her post with Brandon hidden in the background under a broad brim hat said, “Sunny and happy with my love, he doesn’t like the seafood here, he wants ‘real truffles.’ **eyeroll emoji**”

You remembered how you sat back after seeing that and searched every restaurant in the area of the Gold Coast region and only one sold authentic truffle dishes…men are fickle and usually won’t try new things…he was clearly a man set in his ways if he wouldn’t let her post photos of him. or at least that was your theory and assumption about the almost non-existent Brandon Sullivan.

You went back and searched August. He had a decent amount of information, he was very private however, no named girlfriends or family. He was very business oriented….and what did you know? Two years ago on his LinkedIn profile you could see August had been at the opening of the same little truffle restaurant nearby where Katrina and Brandon were staying. You scrolled.

‘Looks like he was or still is an investor.’

It wasn’t solid evidence, and you didn’t know if August would be there to meet with them…so all it took, was a simple phone call…and the great skill of confidence with a stride of lying.

As the phone dialed, you selected a fake name. Your co-worker had a F.R.I.E.N.D.S coffee mug, and you stared at the dark drink stain…it’s dark colour making a perfect name.

When a staff member of the restaurant answered you hurriedly got through your plotted lie, “Hello? Yes, my name is…Jennifer Brown, I’m Mr August Walkers new assistant…listen his last employee was quite begrudged and threw out all the known appointments Mr Walker was to attend in the next three months. I’m pretty sure he has a table booked for your restaurant?”

The administrator paused. You hoped he wouldn’t ask you to repeat yourself or question you further, so you sarcastically joked, “He will murder me if I can’t find out, it’s very important.”

You prayed he’d bite the banter.

The administration clerk had a boyish tone, “Of course! Would you like me to look up the time and date of his reservation?”

You smirked and held back a cackle, you feigned a sweet joyful cry, “I would be grateful if you could be a dear, thank you so much!”

And that was how you found out the schedule and exact location of August Walker and his criminal associate.

09:45am Friday 9th August 2024, Coomera, Gold Coast.

Getting inside the restaurant wasn’t too hard. It had an open-door area with French doors. You made sure to wear a large sun hat and a plain dress. Your dad owned a small camera, about the size of an apple. You put it on a timer and leant to the floor, aiming the view finder at their table.

The entire time you swore you were sweating bullets. If August had seen you and confronted you, you probably would be chained to a pipe laying naked on a dirty mattress…maybe with those missing women you heard about on the news, Rachel, Stephanie, and Alison.

‘Why didn’t he keep me then? We did he return me back home? Did he kill those other girls?’ the more you thought too deeply on the topic, it made your skin crawl.

You clenched one of the forks, staring at the kingpin in the reflection. He looked to smug for a man that got off on harming women. You wished you could stab out his eyes with the prongs. And when the waiter came around to ask what you wanted to order, you held up the fork and requested a new one, apologising for “dropping it”.

You determined the camera had taken enough footage. You knew you’d need to make your escape when the waiter left to find you a new fork. Afterall- who can afford to pay for a cut of salmon with rocket leaves and white sauce for a hundred and thirteen fucking dollars?

You went straight home on the train and bus. You developed the photos in the bathroom sink. Hanging it up on the shower rails to set.

Those were the first photos you gave Mr. Luther.

The other times you took photos of Brandon and August were harder, a little more risky.

06:23am Saturday 10th August 2024, Coomera, Gold Coast.

You had staked outside of the hotel where Brandon stayed. Waiting across the street in a side street. It was cold and miserable. But you knew August would be down here. Darling Katarina had posted a photo of her shoes in an elevator, beside her feet were Brandons shoes, but his had a shine. You could see the blur of Augusts moustached face. Maybe it was a reach, except when the caption said, “Lions Lounge anyone? Don’t my heels look incredible! **love heart eyes emoji**”

You were dressed in rags, you clenched a juul stick you bought that morning, gagging on the watermelon flavour while you practiced your “Eshay” accent. You stared up at the windows trying to guess which room the three were in with the help of the ex-ballerinas photos.

A month ago, you would’ve thought doing something like this was insane and frankly unhealthy. But you a month ago had not been humiliated and manipulated, God knows what a woman will do once you’ve pissed her off…was it obsession? Most definitely, for revenge, for justice, for all the girls who fell for August and harmed by his reputation.

You waited…and you were right. Brandon and August walking out together. The sweet young woman was clinging to Brandon’s side with a wide girlish smile and love heart shaped sunglasses. Funnily enough, the car that picked them up just so happened to be driven by the same dark headed driver in the same black car that August took you in. You took a snapshot of the license plate and watched it drive through the somewhat slow traffic down the street. You walked and walked, keeping your eyes set on the license plate. While traffic rolled, you turned and noted there were a few empty taxis.

You took off the jumper that you cut a bunch of holes in and dumped it in a garbage bin before bending down and tapping on one of the taxi windows.

“Hey! Are you available to drive me?” You called to one of the taxi drivers that hadn’t noticed you until that second...his eyes widened with surprise before nodding, “quickly, traffic is slow, hop in!”

You slid directly into the passenger side, which on a normal day you’d never dare.

But today wasn’t a normal day. You sat up in your seat and scrolled the area with your eyes.

“So where are we headed today, ma’am?” The driver asked.

You pointed ahead with a cheeky smile, “See that black car? The fancy one.”

“The tesla?” He asked.

“My friends are in that car, so please follow it. They know the way.”

He peered at you curiously, you knew it was stupid. If you had friends rich enough for a tesla, they’d never leave you to find a taxi. But hey…money is money, the driver wouldn’t argue. He started the timer and to your satisfaction traffic picked up. When they zoomed through the street the taxi tried to keep up. They were driving to a quieter street with Western Europeanised cafe’s.

As they stopped and hoped out you quickly requested to the driver, “Do you mind going around the corner? I’m a little embarrassed.”

God, you hated to say it but you had to play the suddenly snobby cunt.

He didn’t care either way to your relief and parked around the corner, metres away from the two men.

You paid the driver handsomely with cash you managed to find in your old piggy bank back home and slid out of the cab. Your face carefully looked around the corner and you skirted back. August, Brandon and Katarina had decided to sit outside in the warm morning sunlight. It was just your luck! Quickly, you crossed the street away from the cafe. The more distance the better.

To your luck it was a block of units across from the cafe. You walked around the building and kept your head down. You came up behind in an alley and smiled at the long spiral stairs that went up to the roof top. The adrenaline extinguished all fear of heights and pushed you up until you stood out on a flat roof. You crossed the way and looked over the side.

‘Fuck’, you thought to yourself. ‘Would a police officer ever do this? Would Lloyd ever have the guts to do this?’

Probably not, there was lots of red tape involved in police investigations...but you were just a reporter...You were a photographic investigator and you amazed yourself at the lengths you were taking. You were eager to get these shots. This evidence.

You saw the pair of businessmen receiving a cup of tea and breakfast meals from the waitress. Getting down onto your tummy, you grabbed your camera and leant over the ledge to zoom in on the two.

The pumping blood roaring in your vein filled you with a mixture of fear, excitement and surprisingly…arousal.

Those were the photos that made it to the papers first.

06:35pm Wednesday 14th August 2024, Woolloongabba Brisbane.

As you reminisced on the evidential demise of August Walker, a knock at the door designed a bigger grin across your face. Lloyd had arrived. And no longer standing in a fit of sobs you welcome him cheerfully at the door.

He was wearing a black turtleneck and black slacks, totally out of uniform. Below his eye was a reddish spot. It was shining against his pale face. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was a bruise.

‘Many police are brutal and cruel but there’s no way Lloyd is one. He isn’t one of those cops...he must’ve been attacked by some bogan eshay or crackhead.’

His smile turned your knees to warm jelly. You felt shy like some first year highschooler being noticed by the seniors. He just had this glow around him.

“Hi Lloyd.”

“Hello there,” he said softly, his head cocked to the side, “Do you mind letting me in?” He asked.

‘Oh right.’

“Come- come in.”

You felt your face grow warm. You opened the door wider and looked out and down the hall. You held your breath and stood aside. The tall man slid passed you inside to your lounge room.

You took a massive breath in and exhaled. No one was waiting behind a corner or ready to catch you with the officer. You knew there were no security cameras and you doubted August would ever add any with his reputation.

Lloyd removed his leather shoes and placed them beside the door. His black socks glided over the hardwood.

You bit your lip…you looked back at the coffee table and quickly shut the door, bolting the locks after the detective entered your flat.

If August knew you were letting a detective inside, continuing to talk to one he could-…’Well, hold on...how would he know? He wouldn’t.’

“Woah, locked me in, what are you doing?” Lloyd gasped as he glanced over the metal mechanisms of your door. His eyes widened when you twisted the locks and shifted the small chains.

“I just...um. August Walker.... he’s kinda now...my new landlord and he probably will be getting keys soon and I....” your breath wavered. You paused and took a deep breath, “I needed to talk to you privately in person I think....”

His eyes didn’t grow any wider, but his pupils shrank. He pinched his dark pink lips. Sucking his teeth loudly he nodded slowly.

“That’s definitely a pickle you’ve been put into then, huh?”

You nodded back, pressing yourself against the door, sighing softly, “That’s not even the half of it Lloyd...”

His eyes raked up and down your body in surprise. You weren’t wearing your bra and your nipples were rock hard. Your pyjama bottoms were very short and little did you realise how much they were riding up your thighs.

You walked around him timidly to the coffee table.

“I got a new job, as a photographer journalist, no real experience required just my luck honestly,” you awkwardly laughed, “August um, he’s supposedly up to no good and I thought I could have a jab at him from a professional angle…”

You sat yourself in the recliner, while you invited him to sit opposite of you on the couch where he’d be able to properly look at all the photos.

He looked frightfully tired. His hair was dishevelled, and his shirt was stain with sweat. He had a nasty purple bruise on his knuckles that also matched the one under his eye.

You lifted your knees to your chest and worried about how much trouble this man was getting into as well as you. You wondered if it was like television shows where detectives mostly focus on the darkside of the force.

You gestured to the photos. You weren’t sure how he would react. He sat on the couch and peered across the coffee table, glancing over the images. It took him a few seconds before a gasp of shock ripped from his throat.

You tapped on the photos where you’d been stalked and seen taking photos of August, “Well, it shows he’s not one to have his photos taken...”

He was shaking his head. He couldn’t stop staring at the nude photos. And for a few seconds you relived that feeling of embarrassed humiliation.

You could see how his throat bobbed and his eyes flutter.

He leant forward on his knees and licked his lips.

“I...and here I had called you to check up on you and I was going to ask you for help Y/N, but god I don’t know if that’s gonna work now,” he sighed.

The detective ran a finger across your face in the lewd photos.

Your eyes narrowed, “Wh-what do you mean?”

There was a lengthy pause.

He chewed the inside of his cheek before asking, “How much do you hate what August did to you?”

You didn’t hesitate, “I’d kill him for what he’s done if I knew I wouldn’t go to prison…” you briefly looked down, “He…he came back like you said...”

Lloyd eyes glanced down too and he sighed, “Thought as much…let me guess…he threatened you?”

Your eyes fluttered closed, August had done more than just threaten you.

You nodded slowly, “He…he did…but he…is possessive, he kept saying I was his and I belong to him.” You pointed to the photo of you taped up on the recliner.

His brows pressed together, his eyes saddened. He clear his throat, “How long ago was that?”

Your mouth grew dry. You felt embarrassed telling Lloyd.

“The day of the report, after you brought me home.”

His eyes widened, his hand rubbed his parted lips, “So he ugh…he was here already?”

You nodded again, “The call you made… he was standing right here with a knife in his hand.”

“That’s why you have those deadbolts huh?” The officer rubbed his eyes and groaned, “Fuck. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call me after he left? I could’ve moved you, you could’ve stayed with me at least until I could put you into witness protection. Fuck!”

His swearing sent a shiver down your spine.

Your looked at your feet, you knew he wasn’t victim blaming, he just didn’t understand. You told Lloyd everything…confessed like he was your priest. You told him what August did with the vibrator despite it bringing you to tears again. You told him he was the new landlord and that’s why you installed the extra locks. You told him about your new job and you told him about the photos and how you were going to help however you could to put the bastard away.

You sat off the recliner and slid the photos back into the envelope.

“You’re very brave Y/N,” Lloyd whispered, he reached out and laid his warm hand on top of yours.

Your belly felt warm at the praise. You let him hold your fingers in his and rubbed his thumb over your skin. You stared at his blonde moustache and those bright clue eyes of his. You imagined his mouth scratching your lip if you only leant in closer...he was still as handsome as the day he patiently listened to you in the report.

Lloyd smiled softly.

God if you were a cat you would’ve been feral and in heat with how creative your imagination was getting.

Your eyes fluttered as your entire body warmed up.

“Y-You said you needed help with something?”

He smirked, letting go of your hand.

He claimed, “After what you’ve told me I’m confident you can do it...but you might not like it…”

“Try me,” you huffed, falling victim to his contagious grin.

“I have two tickets to August’s little Soiree at his club The Lions Lounge,” He started off, “My other sources have confirmed there is going to be some form of arms deal with some unsavoury company, illegal, unregistered weapons. August Walker is very good at knowing the law and requesting a warrant… but the sources I have are not substantial to the board to guarantee a warrant by that night and by that time Walker would’ve moved the weapons and sold them in a different location.”

You pieced it bit by bit.

“So you need to get inside the party, find the deal going down and bust them?”

“Exactly, that’s right! However the moment a single man waltzes to the front door it looks suspicious. I need a lady on the arm…and better yet…I need a distraction for Walker, if he sees me head on, I could be as good a shark chow.”

Your eyes lit up, it didn’t take a genius to realise he meant you. You would be the distraction. And you’d be damned before you put yourself in real danger again especially after the threat August had given you...your photos were taken in public, this would be in private. Anything could happen to you.

“No… that is too dangerous, Lloyd,” You stood up and paced the floor in front of Lloyd who was now also rising to follow you in your pacing. You walked around your kitchen and Lloyd put his hands on the bench beside you.

“Y/N…” he bent close in a whisper. You wouldn’t look at the detective. Fear was buzzing inside of you. You felt stupid about saying you’d do anything to take August Walker down now. You really wanted to just humiliate the man and call him up in prison one day and rub it in his face. But this? This was a game of cat and mouse and you didn’t want to be backed up into a corner again.

“I wouldn’t be asking you if this unless I had to...”

You bit back the whimper in your throat as Lloyd touched your shoulder gently.

“He let you live…he has a soft spot for you.”

‘He threatened to put me down.’

He turned you around and squeezed your arms while he pitched the plan, “What’ll happen is we enter the club, I find the dealers and you find Walker because he will be hosting the party, he will want to know why you’re there and you are going to tell him that…you wanted to see him.”

You rubbed your eyes angrily, “Why the fuck would I want to see him?!” your fingers felt moist, you’d been compelled to tears.

The kind eyed detective sucked his teeth, “I don’t know, make it up. Kiss him. Men don’t care about a thing once a pretty thing is kissing them.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. No, this wasn’t the Lloyd you had imagined.

“Oh,” you chuckled sourly, “So you’re pimping me out then?”

He gave you a dumbfounded look, “Call it whatever you want…you’ll be paid good money for your service and he’ll be arrested, in prison, unable to touch you. You can run away and move to wherever you want then.”

Your breath was shaky as you dared to ask, “How much?”

His left brow rose.

“How much would I be paid by the Queensland police or Australian defence department or whoever this is through?”

He sighed and gently laid a hand on your shoulder, “Around fifteen grand.”

Your breath escaped you. From near negatives to fifteen grand overnight? That much? For this job?! You were stunned…not sure if it was worth your life…but if it meant he only humiliate you one more time and you walked away with that much money…you’d do it.

You shook your head, “Fine, it’s this Friday night yea? His club is high-class and I don’t have clothes for that type of event.”

The tall man stood back and chuckled as he tug into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet. He pinched a wad of cash and slapped it in the benchtop. Your eyes widened, holy fuck it was a month or two in rent alone…

“Go buy some. But you have got to be ready. At Seven o’clock I’ll pick you up an hour before the event and we can refresh what we know before we line up.”

You glanced between him and the money and nodded….”Alright, let’s…let’s do this.”

He laughed and clapped his hand excitedly, he leant in and gave you a fat kiss on the cheek. Nothing romantic, just pure joy.

“Thankyou so much Y/N you are going to be hailed a hero, a legend in my books!” He marched back to the couch and grabbed his blazer.

“You are a special person and I’m honoured to have met you! Really honoured!” He said as he unlocked all your bolts. He swung the door open and slammed it behind him.

You sighed and fell back against your cold fridge.

You weren’t sure you could pull this off….but as your eyes looked over the cash, the corner of your lips lifted.

You shut your eyes and sighed…all that money, it made your blood pulse. You returned to the lounge room and sat in the recliner. You laid back, staring at the ceiling. Your hands crawled down, passed the waist band of your pyjama shorts and underwear. You touched yourself and sighed.

Your fingers rubbed delicately against your clit while you leant against the kitchen bench.

You tried to imagine someone...Lloyd…the detective. He had a warmth his face. Lloyd would never rape you though, he was good, he was honest…

You moaned softly, imagining his warm hands groping your skin and his lips kissing your skin.

Fingering yourself, in and out, in and out.

You were imagining Lloyd speaking to you. He was currently the most attractive man you’d made contact with in weeks...other than August who essentially raped you.

What kind words would Lloyd say? “I washed our clothes, finished the dishes, now come here and let me fuck you.” ‘Oh yea that’s fucking hot.’

You imagined he would be gentle and soft before using more strength in his hips. His lips would be soft and hot. He would protect you and play sexy policeman. You might not have been a fan of the justice system but you were confident Lloyd would fill in a police uniform very well.

So why did your body start to dry up?

You didn’t know what you were doing wrong. You were riding your fingers and teasing your clit…why couldn’t you cum? You felt weird doing this now. It was strange to think before you met August you could cum very easily, after your dad- well you hadn’t touched yourself because you weren’t thinking about sex for a while until the millionaire stepped into your life.

After the third time of unsuccessful release, you punched the arm of the chair and started searching sex toys on your phone.

You weren’t totally sure if the prices were worth it for a piece of painted pink silicone. And there were strange shapes you were amazed were even designed to fit into a human….‘a whole fist? Surely that’s satire,’ you thought, ‘it shouldn’t be possible. It would be like reverse birth?’

You settled on buying a “rabbit dildo with thrusting pleasure.” You rolled your eyes at the name. You slapped your phone down and sighed, rubbing your eyes.

The hour was late.

Your first paycheck would be coming in soon. It was the smell of a small victory.

10:33am Friday 16th August 2024, Queen Street Westfield Shopping centre, Brisbane.

“What should I wear…” you hummed as you flipped through the dresses. Some of these dresses cost the amount of a new iPhone. You bit your lip. ‘Maybe I can return them tomorrow and give Lloyd his money back?’

A sales clerk came up, “Need some help?” She was blonde, curvy and tall. A supermodel compared to your body. You blushed.

“I’m looking to wear something to one of the high end clubs like The Lion Lounge, he’s having a nineteen twenties theme soiree this evening?”

Her lips widened, “Well, we do have many suitable gowns and even pantsuits for that social class, what designer were you thinking?”

You balked and worried that she would see you sweat, “Oh…I um…I’ll be super frank…I have not a clue what I’m doing…it is my first time to something so spectacular.”

The clerk’s eyes softened, her lips pursed, “Well! Let me help you then! These gowns you’re looking at are definitely not old twenties glam worthy! Right this way!”

Your cheeks buzzed as you were led into a dressing room and made to try on multiple styles, designers and colours of dresses.

She asked if you were getting your nails done and gasped when you said you hadn’t thought about it.

She was like a fairy godmother. She went the extra mile to call up the other stores in the mall to book appointments. You hadn’t felt so pretty ever in your life until then

She appeared stunned by the cash you laid on her counter.

Your nails were french tips with a holographic clear coat. You received a quick arm and leg wax and eyebrow shaping. The makeup matched the entire outfit. Your dress clung to your best assets and shaped your body with a clutch purse and low heels to match. Your hair was gelled and hairsprayed down into finger waves. And a lather of pearls circled around your throat and wrists.

The long finger of your dress tickled your calfs down to your small kitten heels.

You looked incredible, it took your breath away to see the glow up….

Lloyd thought so too.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[justoneofthoseghosts]

Back from the dead to scream into the void about Bridgerton because the Polin brain rot is real. I've watched the episodes twice now and have some thoughts nobody asked for:

Colin with all that new found swagger after his hot boy summer just makes me cringe. That whole montage with the ladies - er, no, thanks. Give me back my sensitive Colin please.

Nicola Coughlan is amazing, truly a superstar. She embodies the role so well, in all the bits - comedy, romance, intimate scenes. Ugh. I hope she gets more leading roles!!

Love that Colin drops all pretenses when he senses Penelope's distress at the first ball - sensitive Colin is still there folks!

Also, I think we moved on too quickly from his apology. "There is nothing more I want than to earn back the favor of the one person who has always truly made me feel appreciated." Luke said in an interview that the best version of Colin was the one when he was with Penelope (or something like that) and it does ring true in the first half of the season even if he comes up with this disastrous and misguided plan to help her find a husband. He's always himself when he's with her - there's no postering, no swagger.

I am a huge rom com nerd so I truly appreciated all the rom com elements in this. Nicola just ate that all up. She was amazing in all the awkward moments in the second and third episodes and Luke did a good job too. You could really see their chemistry and how they fed off each other!

They talk about how they first met. Please 🥺 it's the same meeting as in the book and the way they reminisce about it while walking in the market was so cute, straight out of a rom com!

Kinda cringed at Colin's journals because they were about girls 🤡 should have kept them as they were in the book where they were more about his travels.

"We shall gallop along" is this season's "I oiled my way right in" 😂

The first kiss scene was incredible. I think I prefer it to the book because there is much more emotional connection between them - they've been lifelong friends as opposed to acquittances in the book (even if Colin was starting to see Pen in a new light by then). The connection between them is undeniable but they each get something different from it. To Pen, it's the ending. The last thing she would ask from him before she let him go. To Colin, it's the awakening, the shift of his feelings, the beginning of its growth.

Pining, yearning Colin is not as unhinged and chaotic as in the book but I think he might get there in the second half. At least I hope because chaotic, unhinged Colin in the book was pretty great. I mean, interrupting a dance was kind of unhinged of him to do.

But I do like how down bad he becomes after that one kiss 😂 Luke really portrayed it well in the first few minutes of the third episode.

I quite like Francesca and John even though I know how that will end. Curious to see if they'll take front and center in season 4 or if the show is renewed, it'll be in season 5.

I know it is an ensemble show but there seems to be a lot more subplots this season?

lol at Portia trying to get her daughters pregnant when one of them hasn't even done it yet since getting married 💀

Penelope and Eloise ❤️‍🩹 they miss each other ☹️ also, I do not care for Cressida.

I've always liked Violet's talks with her children and how in tuned she is with each of them.

Can't lie, I loved the carriage scene - Colin's confession, the momentary disappointment that he was getting friend zoned, the intimacy but most especially towards the end where they could just laugh together because at the heart of it, they were very, very good friends first.

Also, that look Colin gets when he realizes he's going to marry Penelope? Chef's kiss, 10/10, no notes. Luke really delivered and I think it helps that a lot of the Bridgerton actors are theater actors because they have a distinct way of showcasing little nuisances in their facial expressions.

Needless to say, I enjoyed it. Even if there were some key departures from the book, I think it was a fairly good job. I can't fault them for bringing in an external force (another suitor) to help Colin realize his feelings even more. In the book, a lot of it happens in his head, which can be hard to translate to a show. At least we got rid of the suitor early and it didn't become a legitimate love triangle.

I do need a Lady Danbury and Penelope alliance though. I loved that in the book and I hope they don't drop it!

[meaningofaeons]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ majesty: chapter I. trepidation

⊹ word count - 2.5k ⊹ warnings/notes - mentions of blood, violence, etc. ⊹ taglist - @xphantasmagoriax @thatweirdcheshirecat @sparkleasteroid @fluffy-koalala @chopid @just-a-fuegoleon-fangirl @bigbrain411 @koraneki @cupsof-pinkdrinks @anima-m @hoo-hoo

⊹ majesty masterpost ⊹ next part ⇾ chapter II. (COMING SOON) ⊹ previous part ⇾ prologue.

sorry for the delay! please enjoy chapter 1! these first few chapters will likely be shorter, as they are mostly introductory. however, I did want at least ONE romanceable character to appear, so... [^._.^]ﾉ彡 I anticipate the coming chapters will get longer as we get into the more exciting stuff! stay tuned!

The second the door clicked shut behind Cecilia, you were quick to rush to the desk by your window, rifling through the drawers to bring out a small journal you had kept.

You snatched up a quill and ink from the other end, flipping past the various entries you had made in your youth.

"...low-bred girl, with the audacity..."

"...tea party... that wench mocked me in front of everyone! I just..."

You couldn't help but wince at your past entries. You really did have a foul mouth and temperament ever since you were small...

Indeed, even though you had not yet had your debut, it was not uncommon for ladies of all ages to visit banquets and parties of the unofficial sort—especially less so if they had their mother accompanying you.

Of course, your mother had long since passed away.

The entry on the last filled page caught your eye, reminding you of that and sending a pang through your chest.

"I wonder if Father will even attend my debut in the future. It's not as though he must, but it would be nice. Most young ladies get escorted by their parents, so why should I, the most dignified young lady of all, not be afforded the same right?"

Then, a pause in line.

"But I don't think so. After all, it's my fault that mother—"

You swiftly skipped to the next page over, taking a deep breath as you steadied your hand. No need to get into any of that. The past is the past.

Or so you thought, recalling with a jolt the cold steel of a blade through your chest. Shuddering, you dipped your quill in ink.

Then, you began jotting down every single thing you knew.

It’s currently Stellar Year X90, according to Cecilia. Your debutante ball is only three months away. When you had been banished and subsequently killed, it was Stellar Year X01, as the debutantes of the higher nobles always occurred at the Imperial Palace in the first month of the year…

As far as you could tell, everything was just as it was ten years prior. Cecilia was your personal maid. She hadn’t been executed for standing up for you in the face of Saintess Kafka’s poisoning. You hadn’t caught a glimpse of your butler, Hyacinthe, but surely he was also around too.

Not only that, but the bandits—that bit of news alone had proven you really did go back in time. You knew of magic and its existence, but without a strong affinity for it yourself, you were never sent to the academy for adolescent nobles talented in affairs of magic.

Besides, a life of fancy dresses, luxurious jewelry, and endless indulgences suited you much more than the life of a hardworking, never-sleeping researcher stuck high in that ivory tower.

You shook your head.

That life of indulgence is exactly what got you hated and killed.

You took a deep breath, laying out all the pages you had scribbled across. You glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of your room.

8:42 a.m. Breakfast would be at 9:30 a.m. sharp. There wasn’t any more time to delay on this matter—you could always finish writing down what you remember of the future later on.

You walked over to the small bell at your bedside, tugging the rope and hearing the soft chime as it no doubt alerted Cecilia to your needs. She was at your door in record time, knocking nigh-frantically as she called in.

“My lady, it’s Cecilia. May I enter?”

“Yes,” you murmured, folding your hands over your lap as you turned to face her. When she entered, mild shock flitted across her face at the lack of any broken objects or torn papers. Your room seemed, for all intents and purposes, perfectly neat. But your maid still seemed apprehensive of your every move, perhaps even more nervous at your supposed calmness.

“Cecilia, I need to prepare for breakfast. Please prepare my bath and my dress. I’d like an elegant hairstyle today, as well, but modest accessories.”

This time, she couldn’t even school her expression. Cecilia’s jaw practically dropped, and you had to refrain from getting cross with her.

After all, you had to change the rumors about yourself… not fuel them further. Besides, her reaction was plenty understandable given your past behavior.

“A-Ah! Forgive my languor, my lady! I’ll do so right away!”

And off she went. You sighed, slumping against your couch and placing a hand to your head as you went over today’s events.

According to your calendar, as well as what your raven-haired maid had said, today was the day you were to meet Madame Floelle for your dress-fitting.

Even in your past life, when luxury was all you cared for, you could resistantly recall the way that fiery-haired woman was. Extravagant in both looks and personality, while she had always provided you the best of the best, the first of every trend, she was not the easiest to deal with.

Today would be rough, to say the least.

—

In the past, you remembered Madame Floelle’s unwavering enthusiasm for her craft, even in light of your irritation and indignance towards her disposition. She wasn’t a complete fool, though, and you had exited the tailor shop with your designs solidified and ready to be sewn before the lunch hour had arrived.

With your newfound patience, it seemed you wouldn’t be getting out of the shop before sunset at the very least—you hadn’t even had time for a proper meal!

“My lady, this next dress absolutely brings out the radiance of your skin, not to mention your eyes! I’m thinking we combine the gemstones embroidered at the top near the bust here with the tulle of the other’s skirt for the Imperial Banquet. Ooh, and—!”

Cecilia offered you a glass of water, which you gladly accepted and nursed as you held your poor, aching head.

“It seems I’ll be living on breakfast alone, today…”

“It certainly does seem so, my lady…” your maid concurred with a light laugh. You had noticed it slowly throughout the day, but it seems the young woman was adapting to your newfound personality quicker than you could’ve ever expected.

The designs Madame Floelle had prepared previously for both your debutante and the banquet were already lovely, but she had truly gone above and beyond. Yet it didn’t seem to occur to her that there was a place to stop making changes and accept a gown as-was.

You worked your mind to the limit, about to request the Madame bring out some variations of the same blue shade for your perusal, if only to get her to stop talking for even a moment.

However, it seemed to prove unnecessary.

“Madame!” A tall, cloaked figure burst into the shop, startling both you and Cecilia. The family knight assigned to you for this outing placed his hand lightly over his sword’s hilt, but you raised a hand to indicate against it. “I’m here for my new robes!”

The man was wearing a lapel chain connected to a brooch, and not just any brooch—it had the insignia of the Herta Magic Tower.

As most mages tended to originate from the nobility, you had no reason to fear this loud, somewhat rude stranger, preoccupying yourself with the catalog in your hands as Madame Floelle excused herself politely, storming over to the door as the shop attendants glanced at her.

“My, sir! Please do mind your manners! We are in the presence of her ladyship of the Stella Duchy, so if you wouldn’t mind!”

Still, the more you thought about it… something like this hadn’t happened in the past.

You calmed yourself at once. Of course it wouldn’t have, you were long gone from the shop by this point in the day before. If the cloaked man showed up in the afternoon, it was clear you would have missed him.

You took your cup of tea gingerly, sipping on it as you leisurely flipped through the catalog some more. The springtime designs were truly something else this year… you hadn’t bothered to look in advance before.

“Ohoh~? The future Duchess? What an honor!”

Only when you heard your guard halfway unsheathing his sword did you glance up from your cup, catching onto the sharp emeralds that stared down at you as Madame Floelle protested loudly. Despite most of his face being encased in shadow, you could see the pearly whites that formed a wolfish grin as he raised a hand to rub his chin.

“A real looker, isn’t she? Thought she didn’t get out much.”

“How insolent!” your guard raised his voice, thrusting his blade right in front of the man’s face. “Show proper respect to her ladyship! Apologize at once!”

The situation was mildly startling, but a random mage posed no threat when you thought it over logically, and thus, you did not stir or panic.

“Oh? But I didn’t hear her protest or anything.” He gazed back down at you again, chuckling. “I was only complimenting her.”

You eyed your guard, seeing the veins nearly pop out of his face. You considered the situation thoughtfully, and acknowledged that it would be better to assuage your escort lest he go for the man’s neck in consideration of his ‘insult’ against the Stella Duchy.

“Well, for one, I’d appreciate it if you spoke directly to me. Talking as though I’m not here… That’s the real insult here.” You addressed your guard. “Lower your sword.”

“But, Lady Y/N—!”

You set your teacup down and glowered, quickly shutting the knight up.

Even if you had to be kinder to prevent your downfall in this life… it did not mean you had to become a pushover, either.

“I didn’t realize you had authority over me so as to speak your mind on my decisions, Sir Milo. Or is that why you spoke up on my behalf before, as well? Your actions are degrading to the family name.”

The man trembled momentarily, but eventually caved to your whims, sheathing his weapon and bowing deeply.

“...My deepest apologies, my lady. I meant no disrespect.”

“I will overlook it this time.”

Throughout your exchange, the mage had been watching you with keen interest, eyes glimmering with curiosity.

“...I’d heard the rumors, but I’m quite shocked, Lady Y/N. You don’t seem to fit the bill in the slightest.”

Cecilia, Sir Milo, and Madame Floelle all shared a glance, which you gracefully chose to ignore.

“I don’t suppose you’re hankering for any sort of information services or magical services? I’d be most happy to provide… for a fee, of course!”

Rather than acknowledge his statement, you merely lifted your cup again, taking a small sip.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate for a gentleman to address a lady with such a casual manner of speech, especially since you haven’t deigned to give me your name at all. What family are you from?”

“Would you believe me if I said none?”

You chuckled, and the green-eyed man’s smile widened.

“Far be it from me to insist on an answer. Keep your secrets. Madame Floelle,” you addressed the woman at last, who stood up straight at your words. “Do not let my presence impede your business with this gentleman. Feel free to assist him now.”

“Ah, y-yes, of course, my lady!”

As she and the other shop attendants hurried the mage off to the other room, you could just barely catch the way he shot you one last glance, assessing you once again.

‘Sampo Koski. Do come find me at the Mage’s Tower should you have any business. I’d be delighted to entertain a lady of prestige such as yourself~’

You jolted, whipping your head over to him, but he was long gone.

Telepathy…?

Most mages could only control the elements they had an affinity for from birth, along with some basics like telekinesis and teleportation. Some higher-level mages, however, could extend their abilities beyond that—telepathy was one such mythical power that came to only the most gifted.

And his name… Sampo Koski. The family name was strange, certainly not a noble house you had ever heard of, but his first name seemed familiar.

“Are you alright, my lady?” Cecilia murmured. You nodded slowly, and Madame Floelle was swift to emerge from the other room, looking positively frazzled.

“My lady, I’ve finalized the designs for your gowns… If you would approve—”

“Already approved, Madame. Please do as you see fit.”

“Then…”

You laughed under your breath. Even the indomitable spirit of the fiery dressmaker was nothing in comparison to that fox-like man, it seems. You supposed you should silently thank the man known as Sampo Koski for draining her enough to get you out of her shop before supper.

“Of course, Madame Floelle. I will be off. As always, the Stella Duchy will send a check to your shop at once.”

“I expect nothing less. Enjoy your evening, my lady.”

As soon as you had taken one step outside of the shop, you nearly sagged—if it weren’t for your need to keep proper decorum in public, lest your reputation be dragged through the mud even further, you might’ve fallen to the ground just then.

“My lady! Oh, dear… let’s get you back to the estate at once.”

You quietly thanked Cecilia for rending her assistance in helping you to the carriage. Your maid took your hand gingerly, leading you down the stone path as Sir Milo trailed just a few steps behind.

How is it possible that you’re this tired when all you did was sit around for hours on end?!

Suddenly, you paused.

The unpleasant sensation of eyes on you crawled up your spine, and you whipped your head to the side.

A bit of shuffling was heard from the alley you stared into, but after a few moments, nothing incriminating appeared in your vision. Cecilia fretted somewhat.

“My lady?”

“Ah…” You turned back to her, waving a hand. “It’s nothing. I just thought I saw something. Let’s go.”

“I think you need your rest, my lady…”

Still, you couldn’t help but toss one last look at the alleyway behind you, before trying to shove the feeling to the back of your mind.

—

“Haah…”

The figure breathed a deep sigh, slumping against the alleyway wall once he had vanished far enough into its shadows. He ran a hand through his hair, peeking out at the carriage that hauled you off.

“She’s really back.”

Pulling the rolled newspaper from his cloak, the man stared down at the latest article.

‘Terrifying ‘Fragmentum’ Bandits Overtaking North and South — Archduke Blade To The Front Lines, Landau Marquessate Dispatching Famed Heir’

He sighed again.

Tossing the paper to the ground, he snatched up his weapon, and made his way in the direction of the Capital’s walls.

“I suppose I should take care of this early. That way… she’ll have one less thing troubling her. That barbaric Archduke could never handle this properly.”

Then, he shot a quick gaze to the sky, mixing hues of orange and red.

“Y/N…”

“...For now, I’ll be content… in just helping you out from the shadows.”

[causereyna-artie]

I listened to Nep's New Album released today, and I loved it! So here's a wolfstar microfic based on her song, Cottontail (also inspired by my very own attack from a hot librarian)

i wish i was a lady like you (so i could look as pretty in december)

@wolfstarmicrofic

If your name were River I'd legally change mine to a nature related term (Like Fern!) So I could be the grasses sittin' by you Remus came to The Allan Room in the NYC public library everyday, to the point the librarian, Ms Pince, assumed he worked there. And everyday, new people came. Stressed, over-worked students. Hyper, grinning students coming to write first essays. Tourists (god, tourists). Librarians coming in for their shift. Other authors came in, glancing at him sceptically from across the room. Recently, Remus had a problem: he couldn't write. The degree, national journaling award, years of Minnie's mentorship down the drain. He liked to blame it on no inspiration; but that was fuck all, he was in New York. Remus knew that, and his editor--the scary angel of Pandora Rosier--knew that. He had two weeks to come up with an idea. "And that's being generous, because I love you, but it can't be more because I fucking love you." she had said. And that was after Remus had set Lily on her. Two motherfucking weeks. And then, they came in. An absolute Adonis of a person, black hair reaching their shoulders, and sea-grey eyes, long arms covered in black ink. Yeah, new people came everyday, but nobody like this. And they was walking to Remus. "Hey," And Remus was still reeling from that one fucking word. "Hi." His voice reaching an impossibly high pitch. The person raised their eyebrow, "Yeah, you need to come with me." "What?" Remus blurted out. He had seen the movies. This is how it starts. They're going to distract him with an angel, and then take him outside, and then he's going to get arrested, and he can't survive in jail---have you seen his glasses and noodle arms? God, his mam was going to kill him- "Uh, your book, The Diary Of Virginia Woolf, is overdue. The one in front of you. You need to pay the fine. I'm the new librarian." Oh god, it was even worse. His wet dream was reprimanding him for an overdue book. Oh lord, it was so much worse. "Yep, yeah. Sure," Remus fumbled with cheque book, "Wait, you take cheques, right?" The man---Remus had caught his badge with his pronouns--hummed, "You won't need to. A dollar." Remus grabbed a note from his wallet, handing it to--Remus tilted his head to read the name-tag--Sirius. How fitting. Shockingly, Sirius stayed there, checking out the book. "Remus Lupin," he read, the name rolling off his tongue, "is that what I should call you?" Shit, shit, pretty boy wanted to call him. "You can, but I prefer Moony." Sirius' lips quirked. "And why is that, Moony?" "Because I'm up there with you, pretty boy. The brightest star." Sirius tongued his cheek for a moment, before grabbing Remus' hand and pen, and scribbling something down. "Call me, Moony." Sirius strutted to another table, presumably to terrorize another innocent, helpless man. Remus flushed at the number, when the cover of Woolf's book caught his eye. Huh. Sirius hadn't taken it. He opened it flipping through the book, and checking the borrow card. The book was due 28th February. Two weeks from now. Remus grinned, looking down at his empty notebook. All of a sudden, he had inspiration.

[cinnasluttiny]

dutiful hands

pairing: ganyu x keqing

summary: keqing is a busy woman. according to her boss and captain beidou, too busy. so, on a whim, she takes captain beidou's advice and visits a women-only massage parlour. a certain blue haired masseuse helps keqing to truly...relax.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: soft top ganyu, bottom keqing, smut, fluff, crack taken seriously, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, semi-public sex, massage with a happy ending, body worship, kissing, marking, side beigguang

a/n: this is me manifesting a ganyu rerun cause wtf

   Keqing should have known something was off when Beidou recommended an all female staffed massage parlour to her. Should have known it’s not Beidou’s nature to offer things without an ulterior motive in mind, a game for her perhaps. She always did love toying with the Yuheng. 

  The pirate had mentioned the place in passing after noting the tension in the Yuheng’s shoulders and the strained creases between her perfectly plucked lilac brows as she ran aimlessly around the Jade Chamber. Stress. Perfect antidote according to Beidou - a massage, of course.  

  And at first, Keqing scoffed and threw a lavender ponytail over her shoulder, pinning the grinning pirate with a frown and steely eyes. She wasn’t stressed, she didn’t need a massage to get her work done.

  “I’m alright, thank you for the concern, Captain.”

  Ningguang’s lips quirk in amusement when Beidou chuckles.

  “C’mon, Keqing. These girls are nothing like you’ve seen before,” 

  Keqing purposefully ignores the double entendre very obviously laced between the cheeky pirate’s word. 

  “They’re very…thorough. It’s like y’er being reborn, I’m tellin’ ya.” 

  Ningguang hums from behind her desk, in acknowledgement, and Keqing is briefly surprised she’s contributing to Beidou’s mischief. Traitor. 

  “I agree with Captain Beidou’s sentiments, Keqing. You do a lot for the Jade Chamber, for me. You could afford an afternoon off to partake in some…self care.” 

  Beidou nudges lady Ningguang with her elbow and the two share nefarious snickers, like there’s some inside joke Keqing is currently the butt of. Whatever, she’s used to their antics, far more than she’d like to be. 

  Keqing simply sniffed indignantly at the duo at the time, secretly tucking that info into the inner files of her mind and resuming her duties. But now, weeks later after a particularly gruelling work day where all she wanted to do was scream in frustration and yank her hair from the root, Keqing actually finds herself on the stone steps of a massage parlour in a desperate last ditch attempt of relaxation. 

  She’s exhausted, which is what she chalks the decision up to with a dejected sigh, and her heeled shoes click against the cement as she walks up the steps before she can turn herself around and walk home. 

  She’s greeted by a kind brunette woman when she hesitantly pushes the heavy maple door open, and a gust of spiced incense smoke wafts around her. It smells of jasmine and tobacco, and surprisingly it does well to loosen the tightness in her neck just the slightest bit. 

  “Yuheng,” The woman gasps in surprise, smiling brightly. “How can we help you today, Lady Keqing?”

  Keqing clears her throat. “Um-” 

  She’s- overwhelmed, to say the least, as she meets several pairs of gorgeous, confident eyes. Okay, well at least Beidou wasn’t lying, she guesses. The parlour is exclusively staffed with women masseuses, beautiful women. Like, seriously. Out of one of those Fontainian fashion magazines or something Keqing is vaguely thankful to Beidou for that, one thing. She wasn’t too fond of men and their… behaviours, after all. She supposes she was similar to her boss in that way. Seems Beidou and lady Ningguang knew Keqing better than she thought. 

  “I’m uh- not sure, actually. What would you recommend?” 

  The receptionist smiles brightly, and presents a journal from beneath the front desk to the lavender haired woman. A booklet of all the services the parlour offers. The lady flips to the very last page, an image of a well relaxed woman lying comfortably against a linen lined bed, nude, Keqing might add, being massaged by oiled hands. Keqing flushes.

  “Well for our esteemed Yuheng, I would recommend the Supreme package, of course. Full body oil massage, Sumerian clay mud mask, as well as other cosmetic services.” 

  Keqing eye’s dart across the page, various photographic depictions of the services the lady discusses. She doesn’t know if she’d be comfortable being that… exposed to some stranger. It all seems- a bit much, too be honest. But she supposes anything even remotely in the realm of relaxation is foreign to her. She tries to keep an open mind. 

  “And for our lady Yuheng, our services are completely free.”

  Keqing halts at that, “Oh no- you don’t have to-”

  “Nonsense, my lady. Your masseuse will be our most talented, Ganyu,” The lady guides Keqing by the elbow down a hallway, and Keqing swallows her objection as the receptionist leaves no room for argument. Well…that’s…settled, then, she guesses. She sighs. 

  “Ganyu is the very best at what she does, and she will answer any questions you may have about the services you will be receiving.” 

  The massage room the lady leads Keqing to is small, smaller than the main area. A perfectly square room with dim, pale gold lighting and the incense is much more potent here than before. There's a single massage bed sat in the centre of the room, plush with soft green silk sheets and a rack of various oils and salts directly adjacent to it, and finally, a small wooden table sitting next to the entranceway. The ambience is surprisingly intimate, an array of jade chunks littered around the perimeter of the room as decoration. It’s nice, she admits. 

  “This will be your room, I will give you your privacy as you disrobe. You my leave your clothing on the wooden table, and lay on the bed with the sheet just over your bottom-” 

  The lady rapidly fires off the directions and Keqing blinks, reeling. 

  “Ganyu will be here shortly, and she will knock thrice to announce her presence.” 

  Keqing clears her throat and nods. “Um- alright. Thank you.” 

  The lady smiles. “Enjoy your service, Lady Keqing.” 

  After Keqing does as she was told, stripping bare, her skin prickling in the cool temperature of the room upon her sudden nudity, she quickly feels ridiculous. Face down against the icy silk sheets, she huffs out into the room. 

  See, this is why she never left her comfort zone. She’s sure this Ganyu is a nice lady and all, great at what she does, but she’s going to have to tell her she can’t do this. She’ll leave the parlour and never return, she’ll scoff at Beidou as she usually does and resume her tireless and exhausting work schedule hustling to submit paperwork by the deadline and polish Ningguangs desk- 

  Her racing thoughts are interrupted by three synchronous raps against the door, and she freezes, rigid. Her head shoots up to stare at the door with wide, panicked eyes. Oh. 

  “Come-” She begins, voice cracking in nerves. “Come in.” 

  The woman who enters is…pretty. Very pretty, Keqing vaguely feels her brain short circuit reboot, log off. Dainty, sturdy. Fluttery flashes and a sinfully pink pout. Her hips are generously round and her shoulders are broadened, strong. She looks like a fucking high fashion model. God damn, Keqing doesn’t remember the last time she’d seen someone so visually appealing, quickly she forgets about the common room full of women blessed by Aphrodite, because suddenly powder blue hair and gemstone eyes are all she can focus on. She averts her eyes and bows her head as best she can in acknowledgement. 

  Ganyu’s voice is captivating when she speaks. 

  “Nice to meet you, Yuheng. I’m Ganyu, I’ll be your masseuse today. Do you have any questions for me before we get started?” 

   Are angels ever jealous of how gorgeous you are?

“Um- no. Thanks.” Gods, Keqing. Get it together. So much for running out of here with her tail between her legs. 

  Ganyu’s blush colored lips curve into a pretty, friendly smile. “Very well.” 

  It’s quiet, tense, as Ganyu prepares her supplies. Though Keqing is sure she’s the one stifling the supposed to be relaxing environment with her awkwardness. 

  “So,” Ganyu mutters softly. “This is cherry blossom oil, it might be a bit cold at first.” 

  Oh. Keqing hadn’t expected Ganyu to begin so soon, and she flinches as soft hand swipe against her bare shoulder blades. 

  “It’s great for relieving stress and softening the skin.” Ganyu explains.

  Keqing tries at first, really. As Ganyu’s fingertips dip into the firmness of Keqing’s taut shoulders, she groans out in pain, desperate to allow the gestures to relax her. But the silk is too rough against her heated flesh, the water in the fountains of the common room too loud through the walls, the incense too suffocating. 

  “Are you alright, miss Yuheng?” 

  “Keqing.” She slurs out in response, ushering the girl to address her as such. “It’s just…I don’t think I know how to-” She trails off, slightly embarrassed.

  Ganyu stills her hands. 

  “How about,” She begins, hands leaving Keqing’s skin. The purple haired woman blinks her eyes open and furrows her brows in frustration at her inability to relax. 

  “Try lying on your back for me? If you are comfortable with that, of course.”

  Keqing slowly rolls over, pointedly avoiding gemstone eyes as her nude breasts are suddenly exposed to the room, she rolls her shoulders, attempting to shake the disomfort. 

  Like that, Ganyu instead begins massaging the top of her decolletage, and Keqing surprisingly finds it easier to relax this way. The gliding of slippery hands against her collarbones doing well to untie the rigid nerves there. Perhaps her shoulders were too sore, too sensitive.

  Keqing sighs out in relief, finally. Ganyu’s thumb kneads barely against the globed flesh of Keqing’s breast, who swallows in response. 

  “You’re very tense, Yuhe- Keqing. ” 

  Keqing exhales a sharp laugh. 

  “Yes, well,” She blinks her eyes open, meeting Ganyu’s own. “Lady Ningguang is a very particular boss. It sometimes feels as though I’m her personal assistant as opposed to an esteemed Yuheng.” 

  Ganyu nods at the admission slowly, fingernails just barely grazing the goosebump covered tawny flesh of Keqing’s sternum. 

  “I can’t imagine how hard you must work.” 

  Keqing’s brows furrow. She does, doesn’t she? Who knows how long it’s been since she’d had an evening like this to herself.

  “...And what about you?” Keqing inquires, curious and eager to refrain from the spotlight. “Do you enjoy your job?” 

  Ganyu tips the bottle of cherry blossom oil to pour more into a cupped palm, slicking the viscous liquid between hands and pressing firmly to Keqing’s exposed abdomen. Keqing jolts slightly at the contact. Much lower than before. 

  “I do.” 

  Keqing watches Ganyu as she works. Watches the way a loose tendril of powder blue hair slips from her claw clip and tickles the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Watches the way the muscles of her defined biceps flex and ripple as she caresses Keqing’s sore flesh, and the way her brow furrows artfully in her focus. She’s truly beautiful. And dipping her fingertips beyond the silk sheet preserving Keqing’s last bits of modesty. 

  “And-” Keqing’s breath hitches in embarrassment as the silk is nudged further and further down. 

  “And what exactly do you like about it?” 

  Ganyu’s fingertips flirt along the dips of Keqing’s jutted hip bones, swiping against the underside of her pelvic bone to massage the barely exposed flesh of her ass. 

  “Well,” Ganyu breathes, jostling the sheet until Keqing chokes as the silk falls away entirely, exposing the flesh of her thighs, the valley of her mons pubis, her calves, all the way to her toes. A small spattering of lavender hair is situated just atop the apex of her thighs, and Keqing tries not to flush in mortification. She wasn’t expecting to be so exposed, thus she’d forgone removing the hair there. Ah, well. She’s growing warmer by the second, the beginnings of dew between her legs she desperately hopes Ganyu won't notice. 

  It’d been so long since she’d been touched in general, let alone completely nude by a gorgeous woman, how inappropriate and unprofessional of her to react in such a way, Ganyu was only doing her job and here she was getting worked up over a few touches. She blames her body, blames the stress for making her so sensitive. She chalks it up to a simple biological reaction.

  Ganyu grips Keqing’s upper thigh firmly, squeezing the muscles there as they roll and turn in disagreement at the touch. It hurts, a good hurt, like Keqing desperately needed it, and like Ganyu knew her fucking body better than she did. Keqing’s teeth sink into the flesh of her lower lip to stifle a guttural groan.

  “I like that I get to pick my work hours, my boss is very kind and understanding,” Ganyu says. 

  Keqing’s eyes flutter open and shut at the feeling of hands moulding her flesh, revelling in the sound of Ganyu’s voice as her hands work over the sore joints and tautness of Keqing’s legs. 

  “I love my coworkers, the girls are all very entertaining,” Ganyu smiles. 

  “They were very excited to see you, Yuheng.”

  Keqing’s brows furrow in intrigue. “Oh?”

  Ganyu hums. “Oh, yeah. A rare opportunity they’d had to see such a pretty client of such esteem, you riled them right up.”

  Keqing snorts a laugh. “Yeah, right.” 

  She’d been a downright mess when she’d walked through the parlour doors, hair in disarray and professional work garments practically drowning in wrinkles. The dark circles under her eyes could rival a panda, truly. Overworked. She was stressed.

  “No? You don’t think so?” Ganyu quips.

  Keqing opens her eyes. “Well-“

  Ganyu begins massaging Keqing’s other thigh, growing more and more comfortable manipulating the flesh to her liking. Her hands were firm and unforgiving, forcing Keqing into a state of relaxation far unlike her.

  “Hardly fair to compare myself to anyone in this parlour, it’s like all of the most beautiful women in Teyvat congregated into one building.”

  Ganyu giggles in shock, and Keqing feels herself sigh out an amused laugh at the sound.

  “Gods- Yuheng. That’s rather forward of you.”

  Keqing nods. “Well- It’s- they’re all kinda... breathtaking. You’re-“ She starts. Nearly flounders, but she finds her footing nonetheless.

  “You’re breathtaking.”

  Ganyu’s eyebrows rise in shock. “That’s…very-”

  Keqing shrugs. “It’s true.”

  Fingertips dip far north, closing in on the place Keqing has practically fucking began throbbing for the blue haired woman and her touches. Keqing swallows.

  “Well-“ Ganyu mutters. “I happen to think Yuheng is very pretty herself.”

  Keqing looks at Ganyu, to find gemstone eyes already looking peering into her own. At her, messy lilac pigtails spilling off the bed, chapped lips parted and her sinewy body narrowing into the beginnings of malnourishment from far too many work hours. Hardly impressive but she’s being looked at like she’s something to be desired. That. Had her skin prickling with arousal.

  “O-oh.” Keqing whispers. Ganyu is deathly serious, she finds. A flush works its way across Keqing’s cheeks at the compliment.

 Ganyu’s hands pause against the juncture of Keqing’s thigh and the flesh of her outer labia, heavy and teasing. Not enough for relief, yet too much to disregard. Not that Keqing would want to disregard the touches, anyway.

  “Forgive me, Yuheng-“

  “Keqing, just Keqing.”

  With a rushed nod, forcing more hair to fall from her claw clip onto her neck, Ganyu darts her tongue out to wet her lower lip.

  “Forgive me, Keqing, I-“ She begins, flustered, like she’s just as affected as Keqing.

  “But…may I kiss you?”

  Holy shit. Ganyu asks so prettily, sweet and raspy like she’d die without it, and Keqing physically feels the way her pupils dilate at the plea, she rubs her thighs together at the thought of getting to taste the blue haired woman's lips.

  Keqing wastes no time answering her, instead rising to lean back on her elbows to capture Ganyu’s spit slicked lips in a heated kiss. It’s hardly sweet, hardly romantic or syrupy like Keqing originally imagined the girl only being capable of. Instead, it’s a hot battle for dominance, like they’re trying to prove who is more worked up, more desperate for it. Ganyu wins, of course, seeing as her hand moves against Keqing once more, she has an unfair advantage. 

  Only now, instead of teasing touches, her thumb sinks beyond the silkiness of Keqing’s outer labia into the dewiness of her cunt directly.

  “Oh-“ Keqing gasps out against Ganyu’s mouth, their lips parting with a wet smack.

  “Can I touch you like this, Keqing?” Ganyu asks, practically rushing out, seeking approval and permission.

  “Yeah- yes. Yes.” Keqing nods rapidly.

  Ganyu moves quickly, swinging her leg over the massage bed, settling onto her knees and planting her hands on either side of Keqing’s sprawled body. 

  “Yuheng is so pretty.” Ganyu rasps, finally open and honest in her admissions.

  She nips and licks blossoms onto the shimmering, sweet flesh of Keqing’s oiled chest, working her way up and down Keqing’s neck, a stray bite against her collarbones. Keqing writhes against the assault of Ganyu’s greedy mouth, nearly crying out when a warm heat envelops the sensitive bud of her nipple.

  “Gan- ah!” She looks down to find swirling, hooded eyes watching her. It’s fast, moving too fast, but not fast enough all the same.

  Ganyu flicks her tongue out against the bud, blows cold air to watch Keqing’s chest jolt as she struggles to suck in breaths. The slickness of the oil glistens against Ganyu’s lips as she licks them clean of the sugary substance. Keqing whimpers.

  Gods, this was so unlike her. She hardly recognizes the sounds leaving her own mouth at the lewd licks against her breasts.

  “You taste so good, Yuheng.”

  Keqing nearly corrects Ganyu once more, but it dies in her throat quickly when she realises just how worked up it gets the blue haired woman, who squeezes her clothed thighs together. It wasn’t so bad, Keqing guesses, the name that is. When Ganyu rasps it out like a prayer, it’s hard to detest the title.

  Ganyu makes her way down Keqing’s body quickly, leaving no portion of flesh unmarred by pearly teeth or puffy lips. Leaving no area unworshipped.

  The only warning Keqing gets before Ganyu begins delving into her like sin is an uncharacteristically sweet kiss to the flesh just above her opening, and then Ganyu latches onto Keqing’s clit and licks.

  Keqing’s head thuds against the table as she practically deflates against the heat attached to her core, her thighs part eagerly and she grinds up against the foreign sensation. 

  “Fuck.” She mewls, taut and breathy. Ganyu’s tongue is languid against her, wiggling against her folds and prodding against all the most sensitive places, focusing cruelly on the pearl of nerves. It’s like she’s trying to fucking consume Keqing, licking her nectar like a woman starving.

  It’s like she was made for this, talented in the way she unwinds Keqing so quickly, she’s immediately putty in Ganyu’s hands, in her mouth. It takes everything in Keqing not to cum right then and there after being teased so intensely at the hands of Ganyu.

  “You-“ Keqing sobs, tangling her lithe fingers into powdery blue hair and yanking to manipulate the slick, firm muscle where she needed it most.

  Ganyu’s eyes droop, peering up at the lavender haired womans jostling tits as she slumps against Keqing, unhinging her jaw so Keqing can hump Ganyu’s tongue to her heart's content, slippery and slick with drool and Keqing’s essence. It drips onto the table below, a disgusting puddle but neither of them pay it any mind.

  Slurping fills the room, lewd and hot and if it weren’t so arousing it’d be mortifying how wet and slippery Keqing was. Keqing’s chest huffs with staccato moans, saccharine sweet and Ganyu fairs no better, humping her clothed cunt against the corner of the bed for some sort of relief with droplets of sweat beading at her hairline in effort to get her sweet Yuheng off. 

  “You feel so good-“ Keqing groans out, nearly jumps out of her skin when Ganyu swipes a finger alongside her mouth just against the entrance of Keqing’s opening. Then, with little resistance, she sinks a fingertip beyond the ring of muscle and pushes forward until Keqing’s pussy flutters around her entire finger. Then, she pushes another in alongside the first. She scissors the digits to test the stretch the walls of Keqing’s cunt, who trembles in response.

  “A-another.” Keqing demands, discomfort long gone; it's now replaced with the usual, familiar bossiness.

  Ganyu abides anyway, unperturbed by the stern tone, a third digit nudging in to join the other two and Keqing pulses around them.

  “Please.” Keqing mutters, whiney. Ganyu hums, moans against her mound like Keqing’s pleasure was her pleasure. She parts from Keqing to gasp in a breath, chin slick with Keqing’s wetness and Keqing peers down to gaze at her. She’s gorgeous like this, horny beyond belief and desperate to get Keqing off. 

  The fingers prod against Keqing’s innard walls until Ganyu finds a patch of sensitive flesh deep inside that has Keqing jolting in shock and nearly wailing as Ganyu abuses it without mercy.

  “Feels good?” Ganyu whines, brows furrowing in pleasure as she drinks in Keqing’s every expression, delirious. 

  “S’ good- unh-“ Keqing’s eyes flutter.

  “Tell me what you need.” Ganyu whispers, coaxing Keqing on, desperate to hear those sweet little words.

  Keqing tenses, rising back up on her elbows to cant her hips toward the three digits stretching her poor cunt out. 

  “Come on, baby.” Ganyu groans sweetly, leaning forward to place hot, comforting kisses to the searing flesh of Keqing’s jugular.

  “Need’a cum. Please- wan’ so bad-“ Keqing pants, begs , dropping her head onto Ganyu’s clothed shoulder. 

  Ganyu smiles against Keqing’s neck, and she nods, angling her fingers inside to hook directly against the spot, and then she’s pulling back to press her vacant palm against Keqing’s lower pelvis firmly. 

  “Go ahead, honey.”

  The pressure causes Keqing to seize against Ganyu, who speeds the curling of her fingers up cruelly until Keqing snaps against them, a ring of cream dripping around Ganyu’s fingers as she cums so hard her vision fucking spots. It’s months, if not years of stress being shoved from her body in seconds, mind reeling with nothing but Ganyu, Ganyu, Ganyu. Keqing writhes, attempting to dislodge the digits from her fluttering, sensitive hole but Ganyu shallowly continues coaxing the release from Keqing’s body until she slumps exhausted against the table.

  The two heave, and Ganyu finally begins slowly pulling her fingers from the Yuheng. They’re sticky when Ganyu soothes a palm against Keqing’s fleshy thigh.

  “You okay?” Ganyu mutters, smiling when Keqing blinks back to life, shoulders much less taut and firm than when Ganyu had first walked in. Relaxation looked nice on the Yuheng, Ganyu muses.

  “That was-“ Keqing scoffs in disbelief. “Wonderfully effective, actually.”

  Ganyu grins in amusement. Leave it to the Yuheng to talk about cumming her brains out like it was a successful business endeavour.  “I’m glad.”

  Keqing peers at Ganyu with furrowed brows, taking in the flush of the blue haired girls cheeks, and the rapid rising and falling of her chest. She pushes herself into a sitting position, reaching out toward Ganyu’s clothed core.

  “Oh- let me-“

  Ganyu shakes her head with a flush, grabbing the Yuheng’s hand and tangling their fingers together.

  “No need.”

  Keqing frowns. “But I want to make you feel good, too.”

  Ganyu swallows. Grins in embarrassment. “It’s- I already came.“

  Keqing flushes. “Oh.” Oh. “Was it- that good for you?”

  A nod leaves the woman, immediately. “It was so hot. You have no idea how beautiful you are when you come.”

  Keqing averts her eyes with a mortified yelp. “Okay!”

  Ganyu giggles, tinkly and light. She leans in to peck Keqing’s cheek. 

  Keqing flushes and tries desperately to hide her smile. But she ultimately returns the kiss. 

  The rest of the service passes easily, Ganyu works her way through various Sumerian mud masks and Inazuman sea salt scrubs, all while peppering Keqing’s loose body with appreciative kisses and cheeky bites. Keqing is sent on her way once she’s properly and thoroughly relaxed, met with a knowing look from the girls in the common room and a phone number tucked safely into her back pocket.

  “So, how was it?” Beidou asks, leaning against the doorway of the office as Keqing discusses trading plans with Ningguang, who sits poised behind her desk.

  Keqing bristles at the interrupting pirate, rolls her eyes. “It was- fine.”

  Beidou and Ningguang smirk, Keqing feels her tummy swirl. Oh no. 

  “Just fine?” Beidou questions gesturing off to somewhere behind her. 

  Keqing narrows her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest and nodding once, resolute.

Beidou chuckles in response, dropping a hand to her hip.

  “Is that why a certain blue haired masseuse is here to pick you up for a date?”

  Keqing’s eyes widen, she peeks at the clock which reads a good fifteen minutes beyond what she’d promised, and she shouts an expletive before darting toward the exit.

  Beidou and Ningguang stare after her in amusement, and the pirate shouts out toward the Yuheng's sprinting form.

  “You’re welcome!” 

[skunaskitten]

The Ring of Love ch.1

Paring: OC Kiora Sunako x TF Ryomen Sukuna

AU: modern universe, sukuna is a fighter

Summary: Ryomen Sukuna known for one of the most feared curse fighters of the underground. His four arm took every opponent down with no issue. HIs life soon turns when he meets another curse being, a journalist name Kiora Sunako that wanted to interview him. Sukuna thought it was going to be a quick fling but it quickly turned into needing her and wanting her in his life. There also just happened to be someone else in her life that wanted her getting in the way between the two of them. Sukuna will have her even if it means ending in blood coated ring.

Warnings in chapter: mentions of blood, fighting, degrading with name calling, sukuna being a flirt

 The modern world was mixed with humans and strange beings called curses. They lived normal lives like humans, had jobs like humans and even started their own family. Though for some curses the dangerous ones or ones that looked unpleasant to human eyes and even some that had a troubled life had got caught up in the crimes of japan. Even some of the larger ones had found their way to the underground fights of japan to make some money at least if they win the fights.

For kiora there she was sitting on the side lines closer to the caged ring waiting for the fight holding her phone out to take pictures and a notepad to take notes. her coworker sat beside her looking around then asked "so are you here to see your ex didn't you guys break up why are you still coming here?" Kiora curled her black cat tail around her body saying "I did but I still get ticket entries from him that he sends to me sometimes just so I can come in to do my writing for my journal entries."

Her friend shrugged hearing the announcer call out to the audience and shot out the first fighter. Some tiger looking human beast with scars covering his body. Then the next fighter was known to be dangerous and feared. The king of curses, Ryomen Sukuna. A man stepped out to the ring with four arms, four eyes the shined blue, and a mouth on his stomach. A tongue poked out from it to lick the teeth that showed from his stomach. Her friend said "whoa he is so bad ass looking." Kiora studied him further, seeing a scar over his left eye and pastel pink fluffy spiky hair. The black tattoos along his jaw and all across his torso. "You know he is the only four arm curse that I had seen around." Her friend said as she leaned to kiora. But she was distracted staring at this new man in front of her in the ring.

The bell ding and they were at each other it didn't take long for the tiger to go down after three rounds. Everyone chanted his name as he smirked with blood on his mouth. The girls next to them were screaming his name and jumping, their breasts almost exposed, wearing skimpy shorts and crop tops with his name on them. Kiora looked over to see sukuna walk to their side with shirts in his hands. He leaned over the rope smirking to the women and spoke. "Hello ladies you want a shirt." Kiora heard his deep husky voice flirting with them as they pushed their chest up more to him. She grabbed her tail nervously petting it seeing him toss a shirt to them. One of the girls shouted out "I want to sit on your abs baby!" Sukunas deep loud laugh that sent shivers through kiora. Her friend looked at her then to sukuna putting up her hands. "Hey! King of curse! She would like a shirt she thinks your cute!" 

Kiora looked at her in shock and looked back to him putting her hands up and tail fluffing. "No no I never said that!" Sukuna smirked looking at kiora then tossed a shirt right into her hands. "It's alright kitten, you can think whatever you like of me." He told her as he winked to her then his eyes roamed over her just a bit longer. 

Usually the women sukuna see around here one of three things: one they are super into the sport and get into fights also look like boys, two they are dressed fancy to bet money on their fighters and three are all sluts just wanting to be tossed around. But he never expected to see someone like her here. Cute, small and shy like her. Maybe if she is around more he will just have to introduce himself, maybe get her in bed.

Later Kiora looked at the shirt showing sukuna crawling out of a mouth shrine and on top said malevolent shrine and on the bottom said king of curses. She liked the design then decided to look up his name seeing if there was any information about him. There was nothing much other than some blogs talking about a mysterious four armed curse that could kill anyone. This was a perfect opportunity to get her foot more into writing and for her blogs, this could also be a big step into getting her journalism job more of a look and to possibly get published. Not many people can get an interview with the king of curses.

Though her heart sank cause the only way she was going to know when he was fighting was to talk to her ex fiance. Who was a fighter himself and very jealous over every thing she does without him. She called him hearing his voice say, "well hello there slut you crawling back to me." She gulped and said "no I have a question." "What do you want?"

"Can you tell me when the fighter ryomen sukuna is going to be in the ring next?" She asked as he growled saying "why you fucking him?" Kiora sighed and said "no its for an interview you know my job" He said "well I can give you that information only if you come to see my fights as well." She really didn't want to do that and she separated from him cause he became controlling and aggressive towards her. He never laid a hand on her but she didn't want to be that victim in the future. "Fine deal." She heard him chuckle and say "see you soon my whore. Besides that is his building he owns that fight ring. His fights go on every weekend." Just after he sent any information about sukuna and his fights along with sending her VIP tickets to his own fight she really didn't want to go see kiazen alone. 

Kiora went alone this time the following weekend after the first fight she saw with ryomen. She took her seat right on the side lines, her heart raced with nerves and excitement to meet sukuna. She sat waiting for the fighters to appear but her focus was on sukuna and her heart beat fast when she saw him walk out. Watching him walk like a large predator wrapping his knuckles ready to fight as his mouth belly licked its teeth as if seeing prey. He was deadly looking as she smiled and took some pictures of him walking around the caged ring. 

She thought and wondered if he had a family or a wife, he looked like someone to protect the ones who he loves. The sound of the bell dinged and he went into the fight his fist collided with his foes face. His arms punch in different parts of the opponent's body. Kiora watched him move so swiftly even being bulky with four arms his fighting is like he is dancing in the ring. It didn't take long till his foe went down and knocked out cold, hearing the people yell his name. After the first fight was over they sent a second fighter into the ring and sukuna took them down making the crowd go crazy. The only thing sukuna got on him was a punch to the face making his mouth bleed. He washed off his face then made his walks around the edge of the ring. Kiora waited for him to walk over to her side, throwing shirts and posing for pictures with fans of the underground world. 

She stood up and called out his name and waved her hand to get his attention. Sukuna looked over and saw her calling him over, he smirked and said "kitten?" He walked through the second fencing of rope around the ring and leaned over it as a tongue came out from his belly. She walked over and stared at it as he smirked saying "don't worry it won't bite." "Sukuna, may I ask you a question?" He looked at her tilting his head hearing her shy voice asking his permission. "Go ahead kitten." "Can I interview you for my blog? I am a journalist and it would be an honor to talk to you, also you fight so beautifully." 

Sukuna was in shock to hear someone call his fighting beautiful, usually he hears how horrific it is. "Stay here, I will have someone come and get you so we can talk in private." She smiled then went to sit down and took off her sweater to wrap it around her waist revealing the shirt of sukuna. She waited then a man with sunglasses and white hair came up to her. "Hello miss. Sukuna is ready to see you now. Follow me." Kiora smiled then gathered her back pack and followed him. She looked up to see his height and how much he towered over her. "You're really tall." She quickly covered her mouth as he laughed and said "yes. I am surprised to see that sukuna let you talk to him and interview him. He doesn't like people invading his life and blogging about it."

Kiora looked at the floor and said "then why did he agree to meet me then if he does not wish to speak about his life." The man smiled and said "I am wondering that myself. My name is gojo satoru by the way." She held out her hand to him saying "I am kiora sunako." 

Gojo brought her to an empty hall with a bench against the wall just as sukuna walked over to them. Wearing a white and black trim kimono design to hold his four arms. Kiora smiled to him as he looked at gojo telling him it's alright to leave us alone. Gojo nodded then left them alone as she rubbed her arm and said "thank you for meeting up with me". Sukuna smirked looking down at her, seeing the shirt he had gave to her last week. "What is your name?" "Kiora sunako." She smiled, holding out her hand. Two of his arms stayed crossed while the others stayed down his side. He reach one up to shake her hand and smirked. 

"So what are these questions you are going to ask me." Kiora opened her back pack pulling out a small notebook with cats on it and opened it. "They are just basic ones, nothing too crazy. How old are you?" "30." She wrote it down and asked "why is your hair pink." He said "well to be honest i was born with it so its my natural hair." She smiled saying "its cute, the color". Sukuna looked at her with a slight smirk and said "how old are you?"

She looked at him confused then said "I am 25. Why?" He leaned against the wall saying "you ask me questions then I ask you. Sounds like a deal." "Sure, so sukuna did you get these tattoos?" He looked away for a moment then to her. "No, I was born with them. Sometimes curses are born with markings or traits. They are part of me."  She looked at him saying "oh well they looked really good on you." Kiora wrote down his answer as he looked to her tail seeing the tip wag a little behind her. "Your tail, is it soft?" She looked at it then to him with a slight blush and had it curl. "Well uhh yes." He smirked saying "can I touch it." Looking at him in shock then to her tail and back to him.

Her tail lifted as she turned slightly, seeing his hand move palms up and let her tail rest on his hand. His fingers gently squeezed it making her tense up and shut her eyes. He looked at her as he brought his other hand then pet it softly seeing it fluff up in his hands. "It's very soft. Are you scared of me touching it?" She pulled her tail out from his grasp saying "no not from you just I had people in my life always yank on my tail or step on it. So now I am very cautious with it. Tails are somewhat sensitive depending on the creature."  

Sukuna smiled and said "I want to make you an offer. I will let you interview me, but you must come to every one of my fights. Then you can ask your set of questions while I ask mine. Sounds like a deal." Kiora smiled brightly and said "yes that is great thank you so much." "Next time you come in just tell them your name I will put your name down as my guest alright so no need to worry about any trouble. You got it, kitten." He saw her tail wag behind her with a bright smile on her face. "Thank you so much sukuna, this means a lot to me. Thank you. Hey, another question before I go. What are your favorite treats." He looked at her, raising an eyebrow saying "anything sweet I guess I am not too picky. Why?" Kiora smiled, saying "just wondering. I will see you at your next fight."

She put her things away and said her goodbye and more thank yous to him. He watched her walk off seeing her tail wrap around her waist as he smirked. 'She is definitely cute and on my list of priorities to have.' Ryomen thought as he watched her walk away down the hall as a wide smirk formed on his face.

Hope you all enjoyed the read. This chapter was a little short the others will be more longer and spicier. I love the different AUs with sukuna and him being a fighting curse was perfect. It took so long for me to get to draw up the story cover photo.

[dropout-ninja]

You thought it would be IBIMM I asked about, or the star, but it is not. No, I need to know what was going through your headspace with Chains' journal entries. You see, they are my actual favorite part of Chains, because I struggle to write journal entries and make them feel like journal entries. But this one:

‘Entry 47

This is a small lie: I do not mind the pushing of the Teacher’s assistant because I understand it.

This is perhaps a little bigger than a small lie.

I can not understand it. He thinks I have begun to. I lie. […] ’

From Chapter 23 (24 on ao3) plays in my head often. I do not think you know how much this fucked me up when I read it because we weren't talking about it, but I've never forgotten it and I've wanted to do a diary-style fic for AGES because of this. Help me. Tell me how you made this so damn good. (The whole entry, I just didn't wanna quote the whole thing back at you when its a little on the long side.)

I have a feeling a lot of my director’s cut reveals would just be me shrugging and saying idk where x came from??

Because I think that’s. That’s just the majority of my writing. And in terms of coming across the idea of journal entries, I honestly have no clue what spawned that

But the journal entries were one of the few random things I wrote down before even starting on outlining or chapter 1, along with some other random scenes/sentences/dialogue (THK’s scene with the Troupe Master when he’s leaving for the first time, the first White Lady scene, things like that). I think there were actually a few og journals that the fic wove off of that ended up being changed/deleted. I knew Myla’s song would get to be an entry, the entry you mentioned up there was written pretty early on, basically I knew that I wanted to have the entries show their writing style and discomfort in calling themself an ‘I’ and how that evolved and progressed over the story. The entries and gender subplot were basically the backbones that the rest of Chains spawned on. So fun fact! We wouldn’t have it if not for the journal entries subplot. Even if THK was screaming over their ‘homework’ for a good half of the fic

(As a side note, about by the 20s of chapters, a friend had convinced me to use the sort-of maybe-PK arc from the end and I had the image of them just dumping giant stacks of journals in front of him to go “read”, and so I kept that in mind for all the entries that got to take place for the next 40ish chapters)

[tobiasdrake]

Pretty obvious at this point that the final chapter quests are meant to feature the Crossed Paths lineups of characters, so I guess it's time for my THIRD. DATE. WITH HIKARI!

On we go into a yawning cavern filled with gloom and despair. He knows just how to treat a lady. ^_^

Wait a second, this is the same yawning cavern he took me to on our last date. Hikari really doesn't have an ounce of creativity in his body, does he? He had to jettison it all to make room for all that kindness and mercy.

Okay, so this, at last, is Oboro. The guy I've been wondering about ever since retaking Ku. For a bit, I thought maybe he was actually Mugen somehow but no, this is where he comes into play.

Also, there wasn't a distorted creature thing to fight so I'm guessing he didn't die in his sacrifice? Kinda like how Ori didn't? He seems like the prime candidate for ultimate villain we have to fight, either before or alongside or possessed by Vide or something.

Oh good, Oboro is fucking Kazan. The absolute lunatic who breached the gates of Ku with a sandstorm. That's our guy. Yeah, okay. That makes sense. Both Oboro and Ori are good choices for surprise villains, as long as they. Like. Actually do something with it.

Ori's journal mentioned something about her brother being the eagle but I was like, "No, she can't mean...." But nope. She does. She does, in fact, mean.

...no wonder it felt like Hikari's finale had way more effort put into it than all the others.

Kaldena actually set the precedent for this when she killed Ort's men but somehow only flesh wounded Ort despite him being in the front. You don't need to kill yourself. The ritual will take any blood sacrifice, it's fine.

Everyone else is being dumb about it.

Funny thing is, he's just Trousseau. Again. He's just Samurai Trousseau. He's still doing that same thing, the "Only death is true salvation, I will heal the world by dooming it!" thing.

On that note, I keep going back to this line.

This line. This line unsettles me. He makes it sound like snuffing the four Sacred Flames and bringing on eternal night is meant to stop some greater horror from being unleashed.

Like, in cosmic horror fashion, he wants to kill us all to spare us from some darker fate that's just around the corner. "Death is a mercy compared to living to see what's to come" but on a global scale.

But he's also a bloodthirsty jackass addicted to war and human atrocity who thinks that violence and death is the true nature of man, so he might just think living to see another day is a greater horror in and of itself.

[storyteller-aprendiz]

Interviews for the Phaetheon Prize. Part #2

VINCENT AURELIUS LIN

MS. REPORTER: I never knew your middle name was Aurelius.

VINCENT: Vincent Aurelius Lin. Quincy helped choose it.

MS. REPORTER. Of course they did. I’ll betaking some notes as you speak, if that’s alright and --

VINCENT: Go for it.

MS. REPORTER: And in a couple of days I’ll send you a draft for the article to take a look at it before it goes to print. Pronouns, major, any potential minors?

VINCENT: Well, stranger, my pronouns are he/they, and my major is Biology.

MS. REPORTER: How’d you choose biology?

VINCENT: I guess I was deciding between Bio and Visual Art, and my parents wanted me to do bio. I think it’s... the dissections in high school.

You know I always found it cool how... neatly packed everything is. Like you cut something open, right, and there’s just this... crazy stack array of things inside. Little shiny, rubbery structures that grow into perfect existence.

Identically in every body. And if you look at the cells and organelles-

MS. REPORTER: Come on Lin, give me something to work with here. I can’t exactly tell all the freshmen to dissect someone if they want to win the Phaeton.

Why do you think you were nominated for the prize?

VINCENT: Probably to fill some quota. Maybe I’m just the funkiest international student they got.

MS. REPORTER: I don’t think that’s how it works.

VINCENT: Alright, fine. I think maybe they think I’m smart because I have Quincy, and Quincy is smart enough for two people.

BEATRIX VALERIA CAMPBELL

MS. REPORTER: Hi, hi. I’m Portia Harper.

BEATRIX: Let’s get on with this! I have places to be lady!

MS. REPORTER: Sorry!

BEATRIX: No, you’re...you’re fine. Just...they’ll be impatient but is your job to keep them on track. Keep going.

MS. REPORTER: Okay. Name, pronouns, major? If you don’t mind sharing.

BEATRIX: Beatrix, she/they, English major with a minor in World Relations.

MS. REPORTER: Okay, and- what do you plan on doing or studying for the Phaeton?

BEATRIX: I guess I’d want to look into writing- journalism- can shape a community’s collective consciousness. Like, if enough people think a thing, does it just... become the truth? Is there any truth out there to become? 

MS. REPORTER: Ooh, that’s...creepy. And cool!

BEATRIX: You can’t say that! Usually they’ll say the most out-there things you ever heard like- “I’m gonna shoot lasers at the moon” or “I’m going to bring people back from the death”.

Just try and keep your face neutral and nod along.

MS. REPORTER: Right, right. That’s very... interesting. Uh, Beatrix Campbell. Uh, what makes you a Phaeton prize winning student?

BEATRIX: I’ve always pushed myself. I mean, I only get the same twenty-four hours in a day as everyone else in this school, but is ten times harder for me to prove my worth.

Apply to scholarships, raise money for college, and even after that... the work’s never done. My abuelita tells me that I’m working when I should be eating or sleeping and that I should just accept that there are people who’ll stop me from progressing as fast as everyone else. But I’m living on my own now. No one to mandate a bed time and tell me to settle.

So I will give my all to this prize.

MS. REPORTER: You know, if the nominees where based on interview-ee-wing, I think you’d have been nominated for sure.

BEATRIX: Thanks. Now try ask a follow-up question.

MS. REPORTER: Okay, uh... Why do you have all those strings tied around your fingers? If you untied them would they fall of Green Ribbon-style?

BEATRIX: Ha, ha. I tie them to remember things that are too important, or too sensitive, to write down. Roswell makes notches under her desk, Harrison has an elaborate pen code in his front pocket. If you stay on the Daily you’ll find something too.

MS. REPORTER: Okay, another question. Uh... are you single?

BEATRIX: Uh, um...How did you came up with that one!

MS. REPORTER: I didn’t realized the questions have to be related; sorry!

BEATRIX: No, no you’re fine-- just. I’ve never had time for a romantic relationship at Ardess.I guess I’m married to my work? God, that’s depressing.

MS. REPORTER: No, no, that’s cool! I wish I could focus on something like that. I always end up... chasing after the first interesting person I see.

BEATRIX: My abuelita would like you. She’d say you have your priorities straight.

MS. REPORTER: Oh, thank you!

[haytham-loves-chocolate]

Enola Rossingol's First Journal Entry

14th of April, 1742

Fresh paper, fresh book bindings, and a beautiful new quill, courtesy of my first role in what I consider to be my favorite opera piece. Here, I am free to do as I see fit, and feel free, thanks to my foster father. If not for him choosing me of all the others at the orphanage, I would have never learned how to write or read again. 

The orphanage takes a toll on you when all you do is wait for a small meal, a beating if you’re not respectful or obedient, or the time it is dark, it is finally time to sleep, but you can’t sleep because of the other crying children. Sometimes, it is late at night; a visitor comes to look at us to check that we are healthy and who to take with them to another caretaker who asks for them. 

With enough time and patience, I finally got my wish and was taken away from this godawful place. Yes, I was adopted before, but soon I was carried back to the same old place, probably because I was the daughter of two nobles, mainly a pirate marrying into a noble family. 

I can faintly remember back into my childhood days, might come back to me when I grow up. I only remember the bad parts that brought me to where I am today. 

I remember it was a couple of days after my tenth birthday that my father, Timothy, as the caretakers have said to many people many times, told me that I was to stay in the manor with mother as he would go on one of his daily business trips. His last words were on paper, but his last words to me personally were, “When I get back, your mother and I are taking you to the opera to see the play you like. If we are lucky enough to, we can also talk to the conductor about having you do a song in front of the audience. Will that be alright, sweet girl?” His voice and manner were so fatherly, so loving, and the nickname he gave me made me happy. 

In the following months, Mother was always worried, pacing around, even threatening herself that she would put back on her ‘assassin clothes’ and try to find Father. Even on that day when we got the letter, she was pacing, waiting for Father to arrive. The letter she held was a signed death note from Father. That put her in a time where she could be in an insane asylum for all the madness she went through. Through that, Mother could never look at me, face me, and I felt alone for the first time. So, when I heard the day after my next birthday that she died in her sleep, with her last words being about me from the maids there, that’s also the day when I lost my title, reputation, and the first part of my life. 

I am thankful for my foster father; he said he needed a little lady to put in his opera show, and I was the perfect choice. He was my vocal coach, my helping hand, and as we brought money to our names, I chose to keep my last name from my father instead of using my current dads' name. It brought me noble success and more chances to get huge roles. I could get anything I wanted, and I loved it all. I still do, even after all the bad that has happened to get here. He also taught me about Protestantism. I would not have traded him for another foster father in the world. 

[salveden]

take me across the world — & faye

IF THE YOUNG APOTHECARY had a silver coin for every time she met a very pretty person near a patch of flowers, she would only have two coins.  which, of course, isn’t a lot, but it happened enough for her experience in fódlan to gain a higher chance of being funnier than she originally thought.  the first pretty person had been the empress of grannvale, an older lady by the name of deirdre.  the second pretty person, though, is currently kneeling near the bed of freshly bloomed alyssum.  faye, she said her name was.  midori's anything but forgetful, so she remembers the girl days after their first meeting; she even wrote faye’s name down, too!

'   meet with faye after your noon classes.  postpone herb gathering until further notice.   ’   had been written in small cursive at the bottom of her lecture notes.  beneath the folded drawing of a deer; and beneath the new journal her winter envoy—   laslow—   had brought her; and beneath her gloves.  a bit hard to find... that’s why she’s late when she finally comes to a stop in front of the greenhouse’s entrance.

“   hey there, faye!   ”   midori greets her with a bright smile, moving around a flower bed to stand by the archer’s side.   “   did i have you waiting too long?   ”   hopefully not; after all, this hangout had been her idea.  despite the concern, her smile never becomes concerned.  faye wouldn’t have stayed if she didn’t still want to meet.   (   lest it be a thought of obligation.  you’d rather it not be.   )

midori kneels beside faye and carefully retrieves a book from her bag.  her apothecary case had been left behind in her dorm room in exchange for a smaller, more lightweight bag.  not that the weight really affected her much!   “   i brought the book you asked for a few days ago!  wasn’t sure whether to give you an official recording or one i wrote, so i did both.  i promise you can trust it.   ”   the book is extended for faye to take; midori’s other hand digs in her bag for the seeds they bought.  was it a bit odd seeing her writing and observations in a published book?  yeah, but she’s over the shock now.  almost, at least.

when the seeds are brought out, midori gestures at the flower bed.   “   are those yours?   ”

your turn ! say ‘aah’ , @cordevot !!

[hereliescorri]

I read something recently where someone was describing the common neurodivergent relationship to rules. And to be clear, I’m pretty sure this was like, a screenshot of a tumblr post and not from a peer-reviewed psychology journal or anything like that. But anyway, they talked about how ND folk basically have two modes when it comes to rules. If a rule doesn’t make sense and seems arbitrary, like it has no function except to just be a rule, we’ll blow it the fuck off. Hard pass. Not interested. At least in our heads anyway. I’m sure there’s plenty of ND people who’s fear of getting in trouble is stronger than they’re loathing of arbitrary rules, but mentally it’s a big middle finger. 

On the other hand, if a rule makes sense to us and we can justify it, we will absolutely follow it, and other people not following a perfectly reasonable and necessary rule (as we perceive it), will throw us into a rage — again, at least mentally. There will be an internal hissy fit, if not an external one. 

This very much resonated me, and it’s never more apparent than when traveling. People lose their ever-loving minds in transit, and it drives me up the wall. If you listen, you are constantly provided exact instructions on what you should do and where you should go, and people either don’t listen or just decide those rules don’t apply to them. It’s the little things, like the woman today who walked halfway up the walk side of the escalator and then just… stopped, causing everyone behind her to have to come to a sudden halt. Guess she was looking for the most comfortable step? Or there’s the people when the plane is landing that the flight attendants have to go tell to put their seat backs and tray tables up after it’s been said over the loudspeaker several times. The guy sitting adjacent to me not only had to be told that, but then as we were descending and even the flight attendants had to take their seats, he decided to get up and take his kid to the bathroom. We are about to slam into the ground at a bajillion miles per hour, sir. What are you, some kind of maniac?

It’s also worth noting that this man was traveling with his wife and four children, and when he realized we were able to exit out the back of the plane, he booked it out the door with his oldest teen son and onto the shuttle, where he placed his luggage in the middle of the aisle, sat down in the one available seat, and spread his newspaper out in front of him. Not gonna lie, I kicked the luggage out of the way so I could get by. As the shuttle doors closed, his son pointed toward the plane and said something in Icelandic — clearly, uh, dad, you fuck, you left the entire rest of the family on the airplane. Why are people like this?

When it comes to travel, there are a whole bunch of spoken and unspoken rules we are meant to abide by both to make things go smoothly and because the actual process of traveling fucking sucks and we want it to be the least painful it can be for everyone. But a large chunk of folks can only conceive of it being better for themselves, so they cut in lines, they take their time putting their bags in overhead bins while everyone queues for their seats behind them, they ignore instructions from flight staff, they play their videos without headphones, they cough into their hands or into the air. The lady next to me on the flight I just got off of kept shoving her elbows into my side and resting her newspaper on my face (apparently Brits and Europeans are still very much into newspapers??), then turning her head to cough on my tray table so she wouldn’t cough on her friend. 

My entire body protests. Some rules aren’t arbitrary. WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY.