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separatist-apologist · 2 years

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Cruel Summer

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

Summary: It was supposed to be a summer trip around Europe before Elain Archeron settled into life as a post-grad. It was supposed to be nothing more than a 2,000 year old wall built by a long dead Roman Emperor. It was supposed to be fun.

So why is Elain Archeron trapped in a strange world filled to the brim with magic and men in masks who refuse to let her leave? Something isn't right and Elain is determined to get to the bottom of her accidental shift in the world.

Or die trying.

Outlander-ish IDK you know what you're getting from me at this point just come inside.

Chapter 4: Meet Me In The Pouring Rain

Read more: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | AO3

What happened next was a blur. She remembered hands on her body, pulling her upwards. Their concerned faces melted into each other until they were nothing. She didn’t know when she stopped screaming and became mute. Maybe when the ambulance arrived and the man who stepped out, unmasked, with his regular features, peered at her and said, “I recognize you.”

She was taken to a hospital and poked and prodded and fussed over. Dehydrated and traumatized, a doctor had announced, not to her but a police officer guarding her. They had questions.

Who took you?

Where did you come from?

Where were you?

Can you remember anything?

It went on for years—or maybe hours—before a harried, furious Nesta stormed into the room and shooed them all out. Feyre was just behind, still wearing her paint splattered overalls while Nesta looked as if she’d run from a courtroom. Perhaps she had. Feyre had curled up in the hospital bed with Elain, pleading for her to tell them where she’d been.

Six months.

We thought you were dead.

Just tell us something—anything.

Elain said nothing. Every time she closed her eyes she saw it all like a blur. Andras, Bron, Hart. Tamlin and Lucien. Rhysand. Their magic, their bodies, their world. Mates. Elain let herself think the word only once, afraid she would break down in ugly, gasping sobs if she really let herself think about what happened to them. The fate awaiting them.

Nesta took over, snapping and snarling at the police until they backed down. They all imagined her trapped in a basement somewhere, forced to do ugly, terrible things. Elain knew what they’d say if she ever told the truth, how they’d say she was crazy and lock her away.

It was Feyre’s persistence that wore Elain down. Trapped in that little hospital flipping through the same six channels, Feyre murmured, “Harper said you disappeared from a village.” Elain turned her heavy eyes to her sister.

“But they found your phone by Hadrian’s wall,” Feyre continued, her voice soft and without accusation. “It was like you dropped it. There was an investigation afterwards. Nesta paid for a private investigator when we got nowhere with the police…the tour guide said you got on the bus but never got back on. By the time we figured that out and found your phone, you’d been gone months. Did…did Harper cover for you, Elain? Did you run off? No one would be angry.” “No,” Elain finally managed. “I didn’t want to leave.”

That relieved Feyre. “Where were you, Lainey? Just…anything.”“Kidnapped,” she whispered, tears flooding her eyes. “I loved him.” Feyre hugged Elain but she didn’t understand. Stockholm Syndrome, they said. They looked for any place Elain could have been held and she knew they wouldn’t find it because it was gone. Lucien was gone. Their bond was an empty cavern in her chest, a gaping wound nothing would fix. Certainly not the anxiety medicine they’d pumped her with in order to get her on a plane.

Chicago in winter was brutal. After six months of perpetual spring, the cold was a shock. Nesta and Feyre watched her carefully, bundling her against it. They shoved her in a cab and drove her to Nesta’s high rise downtown.

She let them move around like a puppet, pushing her this way and that. Down frost covered sidewalks and into musty elevators before depositing her in a clean, neat bedroom that was all wrong.

“Did you call him?” Feyre whispered, watching Elain stare at the Chicago skyline with unseeing eyes. A beat, and then, “She said she loved him.”

“He’s on his way.” He turned out to be Graysen, who arrived the next morning with a drawn, pale face and terrified eyes. “Elain,” he whispered, crossing the room and sinking to his knees. “Baby. You’re alive.”

He buried his face in her lap and wept while Nesta and Feyre kept watch.

“What happened?”

Elain just stared. All wrong. His handsome face, his light brown hair tousled from the frigid air blowing of Lake Michigan, those soft brown eyes…Elain missed vivid red, the russet and gold, the fox mask…

“Talk to me,” Graysen pleaded but there was nothing to say. Elain turned back towards the sunlight until Gray stood, padding to her sisters.

“Maybe she needs a doctor–” “She needs quiet.” “She needs sleep and some peace. She’ll tell us when she’s ready.” “She looks so hollow.” “You should know…she said she fell in love with her captor. I think…I think she might be mourning him.” “What did they do to her?”

Gray came every morning with a sweet cream cold brew and a piece of lemon loaf. He didn’t dare ask her what happened again and instead caught her up on what she’d missed. Drama from college, couples who’d broken up or gotten together, the weddings she’d missed. He stayed for only an hour, sometimes showing her photos or amusing videos.

In the afternoon, Feyre came from class to talk about the art program she’d gotten into. Paris, Feyre said nervously. She’d spend the summer there, maybe longer if she loved it. Should I go? If I leave, will you be okay?

At night it was Nesta shoving food in her hands and dragging her around the building she lived in. There was a gym—you love to run, remember— and a pool—get in the water, Elain—a grocery store—would you like to bake something—and a rooftop garden, dead for the winter. Everything was a memory.

Andras jogging the well worn path over the grounds, upping the difficulty until she could keep up. Andras, his strange beast mask and his sandy blonde hair removed from his head.

Tamlin, telling her the story of his parents in that pool of starlight and coaxing her in so she was forced to experience it. How he’d smiled, if only that once. Had been at peace.

Bron and Hart, following her about the garden, two burly warriors grinning ear to ear, happy to hold what she plucked from the garden. Listening as she explained the language of flowers so they might use them to woo women.

Lucien, in the kitchen, hovering over her as she guarded her lemon loaf. Shoving some in his mouth without meaning to, inadvertently cementing the now hollow bond between them. How she’d delighted in feeding him, jamming whatever she’d made against his lips until he opened, always amused, never angry.

“What do you need, Elain?” Nesta begged during that first month. She had to be watched. Elain was too tempted to do something foolish, to take the elevator up fifty stories and step off that roof. To end it all and start over, to look for him in the next life. The only thing that stopped her was the hope she’d see him in this one. Somehow, some way. Elain would wait fifty years if she had to.

One month stretched to two, and then four, then six. Feyre was leaving and Elain had begun to unfurl herself from her grief. She had a routine again. She did her yoga in her room, eyes closed to listen to the quiet chatter of Hart and Bron asking if their form was improving. She took the elevator to the gym and ran, changing her course, her pace, her difficulty while imagining Andras’s pleasure. She’d leave for coffee after that before returning home. She’d begun watching television. It turned off her mind, let her lose herself in more acceptable way. She knew Nesta was relieved to see her doing something.

Feyre came that last night with takeout and a demand. “I need to know what happened to you, Elain. You don’t have to tell me everything—” “You wouldn’t believe me,” Elain said quietly. Nesta, standing in the open kitchen behind the dining room, stilled.

“Try us,” Feyre murmured. “It can’t be worse than what the police are suggesting.” “They say you left on your own accord. That you were panicking about your marriage and ran off with some man,” Nesta added, leaving the glasses of wine on her marble countertop. Elain had never truly appreciated how beautiful Nesta’s apartment was, with its solid wall of glass, it’s open concept and it’s pretty sand and cream interior. All tastefully done as if it were created for a magazine spread. Nesta curled on the L-shaped couch opposite Feyre, resting her head on the back.

“Harper said you vanished from the village at night but the last time your phone was on was two days before,” Feyre continued, laying the facts out for Elain. “And the tour driver said you never returned on the bus.” “If you ran off with someone, we won’t be angry—” “I didn’t,” Elain protested softly, hands twisting in her lap. “It’s crazy, it—” “Just tell us!” Feyre pleaded. “We spent months looking for your body and you turned up in a strange dress with pearls in your hair and you were screaming like your heart had been ripped from your body. No one saw you there. No coat, no injuries—” “It’s the wall,” Elain whispered. “It…” God, it sounded so crazy. She swallowed. “It’s a portal or something. I wasn’t kidnapped I was just gone.”

Feyre’s silvery blue eyes slid to Nesta. “A portal?” “I’m not crazy,” Elain whispered. Nesta rose from her spot on the couch and walked to her room, bare feet slapping against the hardwood. A moment later she returned with a garment bag—Elain’s dress and shoes.

“When you got back, I had these shipped off for testing. I thought maybe there would be DNA or a manufacturer or anything that could explain where you’d been. They told me they’d never seen anything like it. No idea what it was made of. Couldn’t say where it came from. No time period, no known fiber…just you in a strange dress wandering the English countryside unharmed.” “Because I was somewhere else,” Elain said again.

“Tell me,” Feyre all but ordered. “Just tell me all of it. I don’t care how crazy it sounds. Tell me from the beginning, Elain. I need to know.” And Elain did. She told them every moment she remembered, every escape attempt, the men she’d befriended, the curse she’d tried to help break. Of Lucien, her soulmate trapped in this other world, bound to a mask and how much she’d loved him in the end. How maybe she’d loved him the entire time. How he was probably dead, now.

And at the end, Feyre and Nesta were curled beside her. Feyre said the only thing Elain had wanted to hear since she returned home.

“I believe you.”

~*~

Lucien had expected to feel pain. He had braced himself for the empty end of the bond, the darkness of Elain he’d always be looking for. Could have lived an eternity that way, always tugging against nothing. Maybe she might have felt it too. The hope would have sustained him.

He hadn’t been prepared for the shredding threads and the violent break or the agony that followed. There was nothing where life had once been and Lucien could not stand it. Trapped beneath the mountain, Lucien was tempted to claw at his skin to see what was left. Ash coated his tongue and lead filled his throat. Every waking moment was consumed by the memory of those six months.

He could not forget them though he was desperately trying. Six more months beneath the mountain, bound to Amarantha’s sick whims. She was scouring for the human Rhysand had told her about, for Elain Archeron who did not exist because Lucien had freed her. And so instead, Amarantha had taken another girl, carving her to nothing.

Lucien drank more than he didn’t most night. He drank until he felt nothing at all and when he couldn’t chase away his crushing misery, he tried to fuck it out, or fight it out. That was how he’d dealt with Jesminda—fucking, fighting, drinking. Why should now be any different? Elain might as well be dead. For all he knew, she’d forgotten him already, had already moved on. Lucien would be grieving her until he died.

The year mark was particularly brutal. Something was happening in the outside world, something Amarantha had been planning a long time. Tamlin was still the last hold out, utterly silent in his throne beside her, still masked for his defiance. He would go to his grave in that mask, his tongue safely secured behind his teeth.

It was another night of forced revelry and pretending like half the courts were planning another revolt. More dead High Lords was the only likely outcome, though Lucien admired their nerve. Spring, like Autumn and Night, was not participating. Unlike Autumn and Night, it was only because Tamlin was never not being watched by Amarantha. Lucien was well on his way to utter oblivion when commotion at the tunnel that led to Spring silenced everything but the music.

Amarantha, who’d been toying with Tamlin, stood to look at what the Attor had brought her. Lucien, too, shoved to the front of the gathered crowd. A human woman in the strangest clothes—tight, stretchy black pants and an equally tight, stretchy long-sleeved top with odd, laced up shoes—lay in a heap. For one terrifying moment all Lucien saw was that golden brown hair, braided back off the woman’s hair. She lifted her head and Lucien recognized her features, even as relief washed over him.

Not Elain. But related to Elain, certainly. Freckled, blue eyed, her hair a shade or two darker than her sisters and still there was no mistaking that heart shaped face, those full, pink lips, the burning hatred blazing in the woman’s eyes.

“Are you lost?” Amarantha asked with a grating laugh. The rest of them remained silent, utterly curious as to what she was doing here.

This Archeron stood, brushing dirt off her pants. “I’ve come to claim the one I love.” Lucien looked at Tamlin, his gaze wholly fixed on the human. Did he recognize her, too? Amarantha was amused, demanding to know who, exactly, she loved. And Archeron pointed straight at Tamlin, a rookie mistake. Did her sister know she was here? Had Elain sent her? Lucien was dying to ask a million questions, questions he knew he’d never have a chance to.

“You aren’t by any chance, sweet Elain Archeron, are you?” The girl lifted her chin in defiance. Stupid. Brave, but stupid.

Amarantha couldn’t resist a game. They were all bored. It was a way to mess with Tamlin, to create a little chaos and perhaps prove once and for all there was no escaping her authority. She offered the woman a riddle—laughably easy and disappointing when she didn’t get it—-and three tasks on the full moon of each new month. The girl agreed and for her trouble, was beaten to a bloody pulp.

It was the first night he didn’t get drunk. He waited until no one recognized he’d gone, slipping into the cell of the human woman who did not belong. “You’re not Elain,” he told her by way of greeting. Her nose was bloodied and broken, eye swollen. She looked up at him, wincing through her injuries. Lucien went to her, crouching in the dark. The cell reeked of rot and misery, was damp and cold and dark. He didn’t envy this girl or the choice she made.

“Hold still,” he murmured. She winced, gasping when he pushed her nose back into place, using a little magic to help with the pain and the healing of her face. Not entirely—Lucien remembered how slowly humans healed. But enough that it wouldn’t pain her.

Still crouching, he studied her face. “You’re not Elain.” “I know I’m not,” she whispered. “We’re sisters.”

“Which one?”

Her eyes searched his for a moment. “Feyre.”

“Why are you here, Feyre?”

She frowned. “Elain told us where she was…what happened,” she added pointedly, eyes roaming the mask on his face. “I came to see if she was telling the truth.”

“And that led you to this?”

“Not exactly,” she admitted. “I couldn’t get back. It was a door for Elain but for me I think only one way. I’ve been here for weeks trying to figure it out. I found the estate she lived in and met some of the servants…I guess…maybe I’m supposed to be here? Maybe if I do this, I can get back home.”

Lucien wished he could say that sounded reasonable. He was starting to think the Archeron women were insane. “You’re going to die here, Feyre.”

“They said Tamlin was the person Elain was falling in love with before she left,” Feyre murmured as he stood. Lucien went still. “But he’s hardly Elain’s type.”

“And what is her type?” Lucien couldn’t help but ask.

“Someone who would help.” Fuck. He whirled around. “I fixed your nose, didn’t I?”

“Pretty helpful,” Feyre agreed. Lucien hesitated.

“I’ll help when I can. This is a dangerous game and you’re a human…” he swallowed hard. “How is she?”

“Miserable,” Feyre replied. “She didn’t speak for months.”

Poor Elain. “I’ll help you,” Lucien said again, his motives utterly self-serving. “And if you survive and go back…will you tell her she can come back? Only if she wants.”

“I will,” Feyre agreed. Lucien exhaled a breath, hope blooming in his chest again.

“Let's get you out of here.”

~*~

“Have you heard from Feyre lately?” Nesta asked Elain as spring approached. A full year had come and gone and somehow Elain had survived it. Lucien was still in her dreams, still haunting her memory and yet she found it was easier to breathe again. Possible to smile, to laugh, to find some joy in the world, dimmed as it was.

“No, actually,” Elain replied, frowning at the screen of her phone. She’d found a job, part-time at the same museum she’d once been meant to work in. It wasn’t full-time fashion work but it was close and Elain hoped if she worked hard she might rise through the ranks until she was curating collections on her own. Her and Nesta were still living together and though Nesta insisted on paying the majority of bills, Elain bought food and other things so she didn’t feel so much like a charity case.

“I know Feyre is a free spirit but she usually checks in.” “She’s probably fallen head over heels for some Frenchman,” Elain replied with a soft smile. Feyre was open like that. “Give her a little time.” “Yeah,” Nesta murmured, flopping on the couch beside Elain. “She ghosted me for nine months her freshman year of college, so I guess this isn’t unusual. I just thought after everything that happened she’d be more mindful.”

“Let her have fun,” Elain replied, editing the video she’d taken of the train that morning. She was creating a video diary, just in case she ever saw Lucien again. It was all she had left and, perhaps, a poor way of coping. She wanted to show him her world and by documenting all the things he’d never seen, she felt almost connected to him, despite the missing, aching, bond in her chest.

She was a traitor for moving on, for finding joy. For coping to get through her day.

“Are you still going to the aquarium tomorrow?” Nesta continued, kicking off her heels with a grimace.

“Yep.” The aquarium with Gray, to be exact. He’d never stopped coming to see her even when Elain thought it would have been easier for him to move on. Graysen had remained, earnest and steadfast. And Lucien…Lucien had told her to marry him. Have his children. Elain wasn’t sure about all that. Gray was…Gray. Nice, steady, reliable. There wasn’t the same passion but there never would be. There was just the crushing misery and the missing.

Graysen met her in the lobby, casual in his buttoned up coat. “I have a car,” he told her, rubbing mittened hands together. It was snowing gently atop two day old, mushy, brown ice and though Chicago wasn’t particularly lovely, seeing the grime recovered in clean powder soothed a small ache in her stomach.

When Graysen said he had a car, it wasn’t his car but sleek company car with a driver already waiting. He slid into the back with Elain, thigh pressed against her own, arm slung over the back of the seat. He exhaled when the cold biting air was sealed behind the warm door, kissing her temple absently.

“You look nice,” he told her. He always said so, even when she’d been wasting away in that chair, unshowered and unkempt. Things were better now and perhaps she did look nice. Elain tried hard not to examine herself in the mirror. She wasn’t sure she’d recognize what she found.

Elain put her head on his shoulder as they navigated the stop-and-go traffic of the city. “You do too.” It wasn’t hard to please him. Graysen beamed, looking down at her, his mouth close enough she could have kissed him. Once upon a time she would have. Elain could remember a version of herself that had reveled in the taste of his mouth, that had liked nothing more than the hours they wasted making out until she was breathless, her lips chapped. She didn’t dare now—not yet.

Not until they wandered the dim halls of the aquarium, peering through thick glass at a water world so unlike their own. Amid the fish and the glimmering blue, Graysen pulled her against his sweater clad body. One hand cupping her face, he said, “I’d like to kiss you now.” And Elain tilted her head with silent permission. Eyes closed, his mouth found hers and for a moment there was nothing at all. Just the sweet slide of his lips, warm and familiar, against her own. The memory of the night in the tent flooded through her, of Lucien’s slow exploration and Elain’s whole body ignited like before. It was dulled and yet she surged upwards on her tiptoes, hands reaching for Gray’s face. Pretend, this is pretend—and yet she didn’t care. She could pretend if it meant she felt anything but the constant, choking misery. It was Lucien’s unmasked face she touched, his hair she ran her fingers through. His tongue sliding into her mouth, his arms holding her against him.

And when it ended with a panting, “What was that?” The disappointment flooded back in. The wrong face, the wrong mouth, the wrong everything was looking back at her with open excitement. She needed to be touched, she reationalized, lowering herself back to her feet.

“I missed you,” she said though it wasn’t true.

“Come home with me tonight,” Graysen whispered, his voice thick. “I’ll cook…”

“Yeah,” she nodded, her stomach curling and twisting at the thought. “I would like that.”

What she liked, when she reflected on it later, was how easy it was to pretend he was Lucien. The moment she closed her eyes Graysen was just a body that Elain could project all her fantasies onto. He walked her into the bedroom, pulling at her clothes while shedding his own. Light totally off, bathed in utter darkness. She could only feel his skin, his mouth, his hands. It wasn’t right—Graysen spent no time between her legs and Lucien never could help himself, and the slide between them was different and yet it was enough. She’d come, tears burning at the back of her eyes which Graysen assumed were joy. He was happy, too, peppering her with soft kisses and the reassurance that his feelings hadn’t changed. That he’d wait as long as she needed him to. Elain wanted to tell him she hardly deserved that sort of devotion, that no one should wait on her.

Instead, she let him hold her until she fell asleep. Let him make love to her in the early morning light, eyes clamped shut tightly the entire time. She wondered if he noticed, what he made of it. Graysen took her home, kissing her again and again and again in the lobby. His relief poured from him in waves.

“I’ll call you later.”

Elain nodded, trudging back upstairs where Nesta was waiting, clad in pajamas, eyes strange. “How was last night.” Elain could only nod. She thought if she opened her mouth to say anything at all, she’d break down sobbing. Nesta sighed.

“Come here.”

Elain curled on the couch, head on her sister's shoulder.

Saying nothing at all.

~*~

Lucien tapped his foot impatiently. Soft chatter cut through the cool autumn air. Lucien would never be used to that, to the seasons of Velaris. He didn’t belong here, was only allowed as Tamlin’s pretend emissary. Working on behalf of the male who’d killed his friend, who had given up Elain’s name to his greatest enemy.

Greater good, was what Feyre had said. And fuck him, but Lucien and Feyre had become friends during the misery that punctuated her three months beneath the mountain. She’d gone back to Spring with him in the aftermath, had allowed Lucien to try and take care of her. It was a doomed proposition given Tamlin inability to control his temper and that scheming bitch of a priestess. Still, Lucien had tried, with Bron and Hart, just as they’d done for Elain.

And in the end, Feyre had left too. Not back to her world—she hadn’t been able to cross once the High Lords granted her. Feyre, for whatever reason, was meant for this place. Feyre hadn’t grieved the loss of her home, her family, her life the way Elain had. She’d grieved the loss of her humanity, the horror she’d witnessed, the blood on her hands….and it hadnt’ been Lucien to pull her from it but Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court.

Mates.

What were the odds? Two human sisters with two fae mates? He assumed the other must have a mate lurking in Prythain too, not that either would ever know. He didn’t pity that male, not while he was walking around with the crushing emptiness still. Lucien turned, intending to leave. If Feyre couldn’t arrive on time, why should he wait on her? He was up to his eyes in shit, what with Tamlin’s stupid bargain with Hybern and the ressurected human Jurian prowling Spring with Dagdan and Brannagah and Ianthe swanning about, serene as poison, still haunting his steps, still reminding him of what they’d done on Calanmai—

Feyre appeared from mist and shadow, lovely as dawn with her glowing immortal face. “Sorry,” she said, her voice hardly sorry at all. Friends and yet…and yet Lucien suspected he ranked at the very bottom of this Archeron’s priorities. That she knew he offered his loyalty in part because he loved her sister—a sister Feyre very much wished he would forget. “How is Spring?” “It’s only a matter of time before they take down the wall,” Lucien told her, not bothering with pleasantries at all. She reeked of her mating bond, of her new life in Night Court and if he spent too long talking, he’d find himself burning with anger and jealousy. “They’re back in the estate discussing how best to proceed but Tamlin took him to all the weakest places.” If the wall fell, Elain would never return and Lucien, stupid as he was, was desperate to see her again. Beside that, the wall falling made it possible for Hybern’s massive army to sweep against the humans, to slaughter them without impunity and snatch their lands.

Lucien knew, from the fire burning in Feyre’s silvery blue eyes, that she wanted to see Spring fall, too. Lucien was the only thing keeping that court on its feet. Perhaps Tamlin deserved a coup, deserved her fury and hatred given what he’d done to her, how he’d hurt her just as he’d once hurt her sister. Not now. Not when Spring’s forces were the only thing keeping Summer and Autumn from finding an invading army knocking on their door. Feyre wasn’t from their world, was too impulsive, too sure she was right, too indulged by her mate who wanted to see Tamlin suffer, even if it damned them all.

“How long?” she asked. Lucien shrugged. Hybern claimed to have the Cauldron in tact and yet none of them had seen it when they’d gone to his palace. No proof, no trace.

“If he has the Cauldron like he says? It could happen at any moment. If he doesn’t…the wall is old magic. It would take someone like Helion Spell-Cleaver months to unbind it. The same, I imagine, is true for Hybern.” Rhysand, of all people, was trying to wrangle six other High Lords into fighting a war when they all vividly remembered how he’d treated them beneath the mountain. No one had escaped his cruelty unscathed. To hear Rhys and Feyre say it had been a mask, that he’d done it for personal reasons to keep the people he loved safe, well…Lucien wondered if Rhys or Feyre understood how much worse that made things? They’d all had people they loved, people they lost in their fight. Even Beron hadn’t aligned himself so closely or carefully as Rhys had done.

“We’re looking for allies on the continent,” Feyre told him, interrupting his own bitter thoughts. “But I was hoping you might do something for me?” “Name it.”

Feyre’s relief was palpable. “The Cauldron was made…and surely can be unmade, too. Will you talk to Helion Spell-Cleaver about it? He won’t let us in his library—” For good reason.

“And I thought perhaps you had a contact or a friend…” Lucien did. He nodded. “I’ll talk to her. There’s no one smarter in Prythian.” Feyre’s eyebrows raised and not for the first time, Lucien wondered what her own world was like. Feyre was always so caught off guard when a female ranked highly. “Her?”

Lucien nodded. “Yes, Feyre. Her. She is my only contact in Helion’s court.” He didn’t bother to mention that he’d once asked her for help breaking the agreement Feyre forged under the mountain with Rhysand, the one that ordered her to spend one week for the rest of her life in his court. He doubted Ferye would appreciate knowing he’d done that, though in retrospect it had been done out of care and concern.

“You’ll let me know how things go in Spring?” Feyre hesitated. “Is she still there?” Lucien tensed. “Yes.” “I’m going to kill her someday,” Feyre murmured. Lucien shrugged his shoulders, hoping he hid his irritation well.

“Not if I do it first.” Feyre didn’t know what Ianthe had done to him, only how she’d convinced Tamlin to align with Hybern. Foolish, power hungry bitch. And fucking Tamlin, so broken from fifty years of Amarantha, of his people trapped beneath the mountain while he continued to live like a High Lord…he just didn��t care. The mountain had wrecked whatever goodness remained in Tamlin, hollowing him out until he was merely a shell. It might take centuries before his friend was ever right again.

He’d all but handed control of his court to Ianthe, who ruled almost as High Lord. Lucien was her only resistance, leaning on the good-will he’d earned from Tamlin’s warriors and his people and the trust he’d built as emissary, to keep her from taking complete, unwavering control. She couldn’t fuck him into submission which seemed to put her off. Ianthe was disgusting, foul, and would have been whether he’d ever known his mate or not.

“I’ll let you know how Day goes,” Lucien murmured, drawing a breath of air. “And if all else fails…I’ll meet you on the battlefield.”

“Let's hope it doesn’t come to that,” Feyre murmured.

But they both knew it would.

It was only a matter of time.

~*~

Nesta paced through her living room. Back and forth, back and forth. Spring had faded to Summer and Feyre hadn’t responded to any of their calls or texts. Elain had emailed the university only to learn Feyre hadn’t registered for classes in almost a year. She hadn’t done more than a week of her summer abroad before she stopped showing up. They’d dropped her from their roster and wanted someone to pay them what she owed.

Elain leaned against the kitchen counter, fully aware of what Nesta was thinking. First Elain. Now Feyre.

“Maybe she eloped,” Nesta breathed, eyes wild. Elain looked down at her hands, at the manicured, rounded opalescent pink she’d had done only days before. It was coming on two years that winter. Feyre had been gone, somehow, eighteen of them and Elain suspected she knew exactly where her younger sister had gone. Elain drummed the tips against the marble, relishing the soft clacking.

“I don’t think so.”

Nesta’s head snapped to Elain. “She wanted to know. It would be so like her to go looking…to see if it was true.” “She didn’t come back,” Nesta whispered. The thought had crossed Nesta’s mind, then. That Elain’s story wasn’t just a traumatized mind trying desperately to make sense of horror but actual truth. If anyone was brave enough to ignore everything Elain had said, to walk over an enchanted wall to try and break that curse herself, it would be Feyre.

“Maybe she found something worth staying for,” Elain replied. Of them all, Nesta was rooted strongest to their world though, had someone asked her that two years before, Elain would have said it was her. She was exactly where she’d started—she had her full time job at the museum now and Graysen was going to propose again, it was only a matter of time. She had friends, her old life, all the things that mattered to her.

And if Nesta had asked her to go back, Elain would have in a heartbeat. Would have turned her back and stepped directly into danger, if only for the chance to see Lucien again. She was starting to think she’d dreamed him up, that he hadn’t been real. A perfect man in a mask? It was something from a fairytale.

Nesta drew a breath. “I’m afraid to call the police again. They already think…” They thought Elain was crazy, that she’d made the whole thing up. Harper certainly helped that theory along with her stupid lie. For the life of Elain, she’d never understand why Harper waited so long to tell someone. Harper had been the only person not to reach out, going as far as blocking Elain entirely. She’d stayed in L.A., and Elain had heard from some of their shared friends that Harper, too, thought she was crazy.

Maybe she was.

“What if we went?” Elain asked, working to keep her voice measured. “Just to see?” Nesta’s gaze sharpened. “So you can vanish, too? Leave me— no.” Her sister drew a ragged breath. “Not until I try a few other things, at least.” “Okay.” Elain was agreeable, even as hope began to claw in her stomach. “It was just a thought. Maybe she eloped.” But they both knew Feyre hadn’t. She would have told them, if only to warn them of a new, European guest at Thanksgiving that year. And Nesta, so wrapped up in making sure Elain was okay, had missed all the signs that Feyre had disappeared. Elain knew Nesta would punish herself in her quiet, simmering way. Nesta, who had been forced to all but mother Elain and Feyre when their own mom died and their father withdrew. Nesta who had packed their lunches and forced them out of bed, who had cleaned and signed report cards and looked the other way when Ferye came home with a backpack filled with stolen food.

How Nesta had clawed her way through school, had earned perfect grades, perfect scores, for this perfect job. Nesta would never know hunger or cold or fear ever again. Elain wondered if the glass walls overlooking the city reminded Nesta of how far she’d come.

Of what she could lose, if she wasn’t immaculate.

Elain left Nesta for work, pulling dresses from the seventeenth century from their boxes in the basement to photograph. She was digitizing their archive so though the dresses remained carefully kept in the museum's massive collection, people could see everything they had, along with Elain’s write-ups. Sometimes all she knew was the fabric and the time period but other things were donated by people whose ancestors had worn them, or wealthy and royal patrons that had been painted in the gown.

The work quieted Elain’s mind, focusing her only on the task. There was nothing else—no missing Feyre, or Prythian, or curse—just her, just this.

Graysen was waiting to pick her up, lovely in a navy suit. Sometimes when she looked at him, she almost forgot about life before. Her heart was an ugly, shattered thing and Gray was trying so hard to knit it back together. Only Elain knew he couldn’t, that there were things missing he could never give her. And still, she’d promised Lucien to live her life. As she walked to him, rising on her heeled tiptoes to kiss his mouth, she wondered if he had survived. If Feyre had truly gone back, had broken that curse. She couldn’t imagine Tamlin and Feyre falling in love—ripping each other to shreds, though…that was a real possibility.

“Good day?” he asked, leading her down the carved steps to the packed sidewalk where his car sat, technically double parked, not that Graysen cared. Elain smiled, letting herself slide against his chest, to revel in the heat of him. She liked being touched and Graysen was always willing to oblige her.

“Good day,” she agreed, pushing down her worries about Feyre. Graysen wanted to wine and dine her and Elain wanted to pretend a little. She smiled and laughed and genuinely enjoyed his company. She wasn’t a monster. Gray was a good man, a good boyfriend and Elain had wanted him for a reason. Even haunted by a ghost, by a man who, for all she knew, had died months before, couldn’t chase those old feelings away.

Just as Gray couldn’t compete. Not by a mile, not by a lifetime. Each new time, eyes shut, was a little worse than the last. Elain knew one day she’d find herself lying beneath him unable to pretend any longer. This distraction with Graysen had a time limit, was rapidly unspooling. She wondered if he felt it, too. Wondered if he recognized the soft, moving distance that had begun, two continents slowly drifting apart. If he did, he gave no indication. Only easy smiles and sweet kisses before he sent her on her way.

Back to Nesta, in workout clothes and a tight smile. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Elain replied, walking to the kitchen for her bottle of homemade lavender syrup, a holdover of her time in Prythian. She’d developed a taste for the tea…or occasionally, the syrup poured directly into her coffee. “Are you asking me to workout with you? Because you know I had squats.”

“No,” Nesta replied. “Okay, let’s go back to that wall.”

Elain nearly dropped her bottle. “What?”

“If you think Feyre is over there, I want to know. I want to see her with my own two eyes. All of it,” Nesta added, those silvery eyes gleaming. “Otherwise I’ll never sleep again.”

Elain had to swallow the excitement burning in her gut. “Nesta I…” she cleared her throat. If he was alive, she knew she’d stay. “When do you want to go?” “Tomorrow,” Nesta said. “I already bought the tickets.” Elain was breathless with hope.

“I’ll start packing.”

~*~

“When I agreed to help, this wasn’t what I meant,” Arina complained, dressed in Day Court white gold. He didn’t think he’d ever seen the female outside of dresses. Lucien could admit she looked good in the leather, her blonde hair tied high off her face.

“Well, it wasn’t what I meant, either, in all fairness,” Lucien agreed, crouching in the forest. Something strange was afoot, some manner of creature he’d never seen stalked the once lovely Spring Court woods. The wall was gone, and with it, his hopes of ever seeing Elain again. Lucien hated the flicker of relief on Feyre’s face when he’d told her weeks before. He didn’t need her ability to read minds to know what she thought. Elain was safe.

Without him.

He shook his head, clearing himself of Elain. They were in the thick of it now, battling for their very existence on every end. Morrigan had gone looking for the ancient warrior Drakon instead of him, who’d been left instead to help wrangle his fucking brothers into tracking the goddamn Cauldron.

They knew Hybern had it, had used it to destroy the wall. He would use it again when the mood suited him. While Rhysand and the other High Lords—Tamlin included—advanced towards some inevitable end, more than a few of them were sneaking around the outskirts of the war, trying to hobble Hybern’s army before it could decimate them all. Lucien and Arina were just one of many pairs, tracking over vast tracts of land for anywhere Hybern might have hidden it and anyway to access it.

Breaking the Cauldron would take world ruining power, far beyond anything he or Arina possessed. That wasn’t their job. Lucien’s job was merely hunting. Easy enough. Arina, who wasn’t a tracker, had come for another reason she was quietly avoiding.

His eldest brother was lurking in the woods, had been eyeing her ever since Lucien brought her to that High Lord’s meeting. Arina wanted to avoid him and as consequence, got stuck working with Lucien, a perpetual buffer for his brother's advances.

His head turned at the soft sound of padding on the soft earth. Not fae or human—those steps would be heavier. An animal, then. Not Eris’s dogs, left safe in Autumn. It took Lucien a moment too long to realize they weren’t tracking anything at all. They were being hunted.

“Run!” he ordered seconds before snarling ripped through the dusky silence. Arina didn’t need to be told twice, sprinting in the opposite direction, her magical, Day Court gifted wind billowing around her. Lucien grabbed her wrist, winnowing a short distance so they could move quicker, leaping through the air to stay just ahead of Hybern’s massive, fleet footed beasts.

He had no though as to where they were going, only that he could hardly lead them back to their camp, where they’d have to fight the snarling, snapping creatures with no warning at all. He might dislike his brothers, but even that was a step too far.

“Lucien!” Arina screamed when more winnowing darkness intercepted them. Lucien used a pulse of power to blow whoever had come—not the fire he meant to call but blinding, burning light.

“What was that?!” Arina cried, pulling him aside so they could continue fleeing. “That’s not Autumn.” It was sunlight. Lucien didn’t have time to unpack what had just happened, couldn’t waste a moment thinking about it at all. He knew who had been in that icy winnow, had recognized the golden blonde hair and the silvery blue robes. Ianthe.

Lucien would rather see his body shredded to bloodied ribbons than be caught by her. He knew what she wanted, what she’d do if she ever got her magical manacles around his wrists again. Lucien felt his sword heavy at his side.

“Don’t leave me–” “Call for Eris,” he ordered, acknowledging the thing Arina thought she’d kept hidden. Lucien recognized that look on his brothers face, the way Eris watched her move, trying to pretend she was nothing at all. “I’ll find you.” “Lucien—!” But snarling beasts forced Arina to keep running, to leave him standing in that forest clearing somewhere between the mortal and fae lands. Sword drawn, chest heaving. He could hear her dress dragging over the few leaves, her steps hardly careful. She wasn’t special, her blood just barely magical, her skills just notably fairy. Her beauty poison, uglier than Amarantha.

She appeared, hood flung backwards, nose bleeding from his pulse of magic. “You waited,” she purred, some small hope gleaming in those teal eyes. They drifted to his drawn sword, drawing her lips into a frown. “To kill me?” “Surely you knew that,” Lucien replied. “Have I not made my feelings abundantly clear?”

He looked pointedly to the broken, ruined hands at her side, unhidden despite the flare of her sleeves. Destroyed by Feyre when she’d come to Spring hoping to reason with Tamlin and found him instead trapped against that tree. They’d killed Brannagh and Dagden instead before fleeing, leaving his home behind. Lucien, holed up in Day Court, working on behalf of Night Court…exiled from Autumn, complicit in the destruction of Spring…he pushed those thoughts aside.

“I recall you enjoying Calanmai,” Ianthe replied casually, the frigid, stupid bitch. Lucien’s growl stilled her, reminded her that no amount of good breeding on her part would help her win this fight. He was a High Lord's heir, the son of Autumn and she had only what the Mother above willed.

“You remember what you want,” Lucien replied. He’d been out of his mind, an animal without thought. Coming to and realizing what she’d done had been brutal and Lucien had not been kind. Ianthe wore his bruises around her neck for weeks, had been saved only by Tamlin himself. There was no Tamlin to save her now.

��I didn’t come to argue,” she pouted, keeping a healthy distance between them. “I came to make you an offer.” “I decline,” Lucien replied immediately. “I want nothing from you.” She raised her eyebrows, a smile playing on her lips. “You’re so sure I could offer you nothing. I want to make a trade. One week, like Rhysand did, wasn’t it? One week of your life a month.” Lucien stepped forward lightly. “I’d rather eat my own heart.” “Don’t you want to know what I could offer?”

“You have nothing I want.”

Her smile was amused. “No? What about immortality?”

All he had to do was step through the world, winnow behind her, and drive his sword through her throat. He inclined his head. “I already have it.”

He went to make the jump, catching her by surprise when, in one smooth moment, he was standing behind her, the bite of his blade digging against her throat. “Not for you,” she choked, writhing even when blood began to drip onto her dress. “For Elain.”Lucien nearly dropped Ianthe. “What did you say?”

“I have her,” Ianthe managed, trying and failing to shove against the arm that pinned her to him. Her heart pounded wildly, her terror sweet on the air. “I could make her immortal.”

“You lie,” he replied. It wasn’t possible. The wall was gone and so was Elain. She’d merely gathered that information from Dagden, was toying with him like she always did.

“Hybern has her and her sister,” Ianthe tried again and Lucien, furious and terrified all at once, removed her head from her body before she could say another word. Warm blood spilled over the scaled black armor he wore, her body falling like a puppet cut of its strings. He turned, intending to find Hybern, to see if Ianthe lied, when snarling and screaming drew his attention back to the task at hand. Lucien took off, leaving Ianthe’s body for the crows, praying Arina was okay. Eris would never let him live if she died.

He didn’t need to worry at all. Arina lay flat on her back, blood droplets sprayed over her bronzed skin. And his brother…fuck. Eris’s skin was a match for the red of his hair, his fluttering cape. Flame licked the sides of his face, his hands, his body, shining from amber eyes, marking him as the High Lords heir, the future of Autumn. Scattered at his feet were the torn pieces of Hyberns beasts, flung about in chunks, as if they were little more than toys Eris had tired of. Lucien had seen those things take down five hundred year old warriors and yet Eris had merely ripped them to nothing with his bare hands.

Eris turned, every inch a predator, stilling at the sight of Lucien’s approach. Arina was panting, her heartbeat wild and unsteady, green eyes wholly focused on his brother. “He…he killed them,” she whispered, her words cracking with some emotion Lucien couldn’t read. It seemed to snap Eris back to reality. All at once his posture shifted, his magic winking out with a breath. He walked to Arina and offered her a blood soaked hand and she took it, rising to her feet.

“Did you finish her?” Arina asked, still clasping Eris’s hands, still looking at his brother as if it were the first time she’d ever really seen him. Perhaps it was.

“Ianthe is dead.” He didn’t dare tell them what she’d said about Elain, about Hybern having her. “I need to go back to camp.”

Eris nodded, pulling his hand from Arina’s. She’d go with Lucien and they all knew it. It wasn’t a question, not when Lucien winnowed them back to the sprawling tent city where thousands of warriors from every court waited atop that hillside. Marching, for the some of them, to death. Lucien deposited Arina with Helion’s camp, wondering if she’d tell the High Lord what came from his hands that day. It didn’t matter, he decided. Let Helion untangle that mess later. Lucien needed Feyre.

She was watching, arms crossed over her chest. Staring at nothing, at what they all knew was coming. Another day of marching, of waiting.

“Ianthe is dead,” he told her.

“Can I?” Feyre asked. Lucien swallowed, inclining his head so Feyre could peer into his mind. Could see what Ianthe had said, could hear her. Feyre’s face paled, eyes looking into that rapidly darkening distance.

“She’s a liar,” Feyre said.

“And if she’s not?” Lucien could only swallow his fear, imagining Elain trapped in that camp, subjected to that Mad King’s whims.

“We’ll find her,” was all Feyre said. “And kill him for daring to touch them at all.”

~*~

Nesta and Elain marched quietly towards the wall, taking the same path Elain and Harper once had. No tour guides, no witnesses, only the first rays of dawn greeted them and their approach. Nesta’s steps slowed as they made that ascent upwards. Elain was hit with deja vu, dressed in quarter-sleeves and yellow. She’d been careful with her hair, pinning the sides back, had spent all night working on her face. Wanting to be lovely, for him to see her and recognize her.

Nesta was more practical in her athleticwear and nice tennis shoes. Elain had nothing but her fully charged phone in her pocket while Nesta had a bag slung over one shoulder, long hair pulled in twin french braids. “I don’t like this,” Nesta whispered. “It feels…” Wrong. Elain could feel the pull again, the soft tugging urging her forward. Elain reached out her hand, ignoring how Lucien’s words urging her to live her life without him echoed around her. “Elain,” Nesta whispered, grasping her hand. Too late. Elain pressed her palm to the rough stone. Nesta came with her—Elain heard her eldest sister scream as they tumbled, the grass giving way to leaves and wood and rot. A familiar lilac breeze was tinged with something new, the air heavier, muskier.

No naga greeted her, no masked warriors coming from the gleaming shadows. Still, Elain swore she knew the way as she righted herself, brushing leaves from her dress. That spring weather was almost a relief, the shimmering, golden light peeking through the leaves above warming her trembling body.

“Oh my God,” Nesta breathed, standing quickly. Wisps of brown hair framed Nesta’s elegant face, eyes wide with stunned wonder. “I thought…” Elain didn’t let herself feel bad. It was an insane proposition to begin with and yet Elain felt vindicated, in a strange way. She reached her hand for Nesta’s, smiling too bright. “Come on. Let me show you where I was.” “We’re only here to find Feyre,” Nesta reminded her. Elain didn’t bother to argue. She wanted to see Feyre…and Lucien. God, how badly she wanted to see his face, to hear his voice, to refill the miserable, aching void she couldn’t shake inside her chest. She knew she’d beg and scream and plead to stay with him, even if it meant he remained lovely and young and beautiful while she aged and one day died. Time apart had given Elain clarity. Better to spend what little time they had together than waste it miserably apart.

They didn’t get far before a fae male, casual in his appearance, stepped from the shadows. Coal black eyes glittered against shoulder length onyx hair and bone white skin. “Are you lost?”

“No,” Elain said quickly, well aware of the horror that could come from being too friendly with one of these men.

He stepped a little closer, watching them with amusement. “On your way to Spring…you crossed the wall, I take it?” “Yes,” Elain agreed. “We’ll just be on our way.”

“To see the High Lord? No need. I can take you.”

Nesta grabbed Elain’s wrist as dread pooled through them both. He peered at them as if he could sense the lie.

“Unless, of course, you’ve come to see someone else?”

“Feyre Archeron,” Nesta said too quickly. Elain sighed but the man’s whole body shifted.

“I thought you looked familiar.” He spoke directly to Nesta then. “I know the Cursebreaker well.” Elain ignored the whispering voice telling her to run. “She broke the curse?”

His smile was practically feline. “She did. She’s fairy now. Would you like to see her?”

“Yes,” they said in unison. He extended a hand.

“Let me take you to her. Feyre and I know each other very well.” “She’s…what’s your name?” Nesta asked, inching a little closer. He smiled.

“No name,” he murmured. “Though, I suppose they call me Hybern.” “Nes—” something metallic shoved itself violently against Elain’s face, suffocating her, dragging her towards darkness. Elain recalled that map in Tamlins study, the strangely familiar landscape of England and Scotland that denoted Prythian, and the neighboring island of Hybern. She didn’t know anything about their people, of this man named for the place itself. She only knew he did not belong.

And then she knew nothing more, at least for a time. Elain awoke alone, hands bound behind her body in an empty tent. She was secured to the middling support so tight she could barely adjust her shoulders. Elain was not alone. A woman watched with strange, teal eyes and pretty golden hair. She turned when Elain groaned, the full weight of her gaze settling on Elain’s chest. She had the phases of the moon stamped over her forehead, centered with a cerulean stone. Silver blue robes clung to a curved body, a hood thrown from her head of soft curls.

“Elain Archeron?” she asked. “Are you hurt?” “Where am I?” Elain asked, not bothering to answer. The woman—priestess, if she had to guess—walked slowly, dress swishing about her legs. She crouched beside Elain, caressing her face.

“Safe,” she said. Elain pulled at her wrists but said nothing, waiting for some sort of explanation. “I don’t suppose you know me. You were here before my time. My name is Ianthe, I’m a priestess in Spring Court.”

“Tamlin?” she asked dumbly, trying to shake the last vestiges of magic from her senses.

“Yes,” Ianthe agreed. “He is the High Lord who brought me to Prythian…it is his court I serve.”

“Can I see him?” Elain asked.

Ianthe nodded. “In time. He has been inquiring after you, too. I’m surprised to see how…fevered he is given he sent you home.” “And Nesta?” Elain asked, ignoring whatever this woman was trying to ask without just directly saying it.

“Safe. With Jurian,” Ianthe added, as if that name meant anything to her. “We’re waiting on the human queens to arrive before we release you.” “How long?”

“Hours, perhaps? If that, even. They’re quite eager to meet the Cursebreakers human family. We all are…though you’ve been here before but when I went looking for you, there was no traces. Curious.”

“I guess,” Elain winced, tugging at her hands. “Will you untie me?”

Ianthe didn’t budge. “Where did he hide you?” Elain pulled again. “Nowhere. Ask Tamlin, he’ll—” “Not Tamlin. Lucien. Where did he hide you? I have been looking for you since Feyre first claimed to be you.” Their eyes met. Lucien. “You know Lucien?” Her mouth curled into a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Very well. We are…intimately close.”

Elain was going to be sick. He’d taken a new lover, then. She could hardly be angry, not when she’d been with Graysen and yet…and yet Ianthe was so fairy, so lovely and fairy and immortal. Had it been a difficult choice, she wondered? “Can I see him?” “He doesn’t wish to see you,” she murmured. “But I could not resist seeing the human he hid from Amarantha. Just once, anyway. He wishes for me to forget you…just as he has.” Oh God. Elain tried so hard to keep her face from betraying how badly that hurt her.

“Where did he hide you?”

“He didn’t,” Elain managed, swallowing the urge to scream. “I just left.” “You’re a liar,” she crooned softly.

“Ask him, then,” Elain demanded. “You know him so well, he should have no problem verifying the truth.” She brushed a knuckle over Elain’s cheek. “Would you like to know what he said, when I told him we had you? That you were going to die?”

Cold skittered over her skin. Elain could do nothing but listen, even as Ianthe stood, looking down at Elain with pitying eyes. “Nothing at all,” she finally said with a curling smile. “He said nothing at all.” Elain inclined her head against the pole, closing her eyes. She tried to imagine it, Lucien, with his teasing eyes and his easy smiles with nothing to say. Lucien, who’d once punched his oldest friend in the face for leaving her to die, who had put himself between Rhysand to try and keep her safe…could so much have changed in just a year and a half that he wouldn’t care?

No.

Elain couldn’t feel that bond anymore, still missed the snap of him, the constant awareness of his feelings and yet Elain knew Lucien. If he knew she was here, he would remain silent only to keep her safe, to help. He wouldn’t leave her to die.

Not that it mattered any, when several nervous servants stepped into the tent hours later, their legs manacled in iron. Human, just like Elain, pallid and trembling as they untied her. A fae man stood just at the door to guard, watching with hungry eyes as Elain was stripped bare and redressed in plunging crimson after washing her with cold, harsh rags. Heavy black clips were pushed against her hair, a devil's crown set atop her head as she marched through a well organized, sprawling war camp. War. Hybern was in Spring…and she was walking past rows upon rows of soldiers with that same bone white skin, those same beatle jewel eyes.

Nesta was waiting in a crown of thorns and the same too exposed black, hands and feet bound and gagged. Hybern had created a stage of sorts, a twisted throne set atop a wooden dais. No priestess, Elain noted, though just a few feet away was a long, wooden rack holding a whimpering, naked human wood, her body stretched across all four corners.

Too late, she knew, they never should have come back. Cursebreaker? Of what?

A crowd of gathered women in heavy dresses not unlike the ones she’d spent days cataloging. Human Queens, watching at the foot of the dias as Elain was dragged forward. Not to Hybern, who relaxed casually in his suit of black, but towards a massive iron Cauldron filled to the brim with black, smoking water.

Nesta immediately began to thrash, causing several soldiers at the periphery to reach for her, restraining as they shoved a gag in her mouth. “More human women?” one of the older Queens asked, her tone dripping with disdain. “How many are you going to demand us watch die?” Elain dug her satin slippers into the hard ground, searching the night for anything that might save her. Only violet stars winked back, the only beings left to witness this horror. Hot, massive torches lit her way forward, pushed and dragged with punishing fingers.

“These are no mere humans. The Cursebreaker has sisters. They’re strong, like her. They can withstand immortality. You will see. Put the prettier one in first.” Nesta’s muffled screams shattered the silence. Elain looked around one last time as she was hauled off her feet, all but carried to that massive pot. A man with soft eyes and flat lips stood to the far side, regret glimmering in his gaze. No Tamlin, like Ianthe had said. No Lucien, no Feyre, just a crowd of curious, black armored soldiers and these hungry women hoping to see her die.

Elain’s feet hit the edge of the Cauldron as she writhed. “No,” she breathed when her feet splashed against the cold surface. Soft, phantom talons grazed at her feet, drawing her downward. Elain couldn’t beg for this to stop, could only suck down one last gulp of air.

Nesta’s terror was the last thing she ever saw.

~*~

They marched at dawn. Cassian and Azriel had scouted ahead, had finally found Hybern’s place of choosing, his final stand. They would fight in the valley between the hills. No sign of Nesta or Elain or anything that might prove what Ianthe had said was true. It both gave him hope Elain was still safe in her strange world and disappointed him that he’d never see her again.

“Do you think they’ll attack today?” Feyre asked her mate, peering into the distance at that still slumbering army. Rhys merely shook his head.

“They’ll take their time. As should we.” The day was wasted putting up tents and getting settled. Everyone was on edge. It was no small battle, no teasing or games. This was the fate of their lives, their world. Lucien, too, was thinking about it. He wondered if that was what drew Eris to him, face contemplative as he sat beside Lucien’s fire. Eris, ever the show off, stoked the flames with a mere flick of long fingers, eyes far away.

“I heard what you did in the woods. It is only time before father learns of it, too.” “It was nothing.” “It was sunlight,” Eris said carefully. “And that doesn’t belong to Autumn.” Lucien heaved a sigh. “Well…I suppose you know, don’t you? Which courtier am I to threaten on pain of death, then?”

“A courtier no more,” Eris all but grumbled. “But High Lord.”Cauldron boil him. “That complicates the threatening.”

Eris nodded. “Mother cannot leave and I trust you to be discreet regarding this. I have convinced Arina not to go to Helion. Not yet, anyway. Not until I can be sure father won’t harm mother.”

“Accidents happen in battle all the time,” Lucien said with a shrug.

“There would be a revolt if I slaughtered the High Lord with his back turned,” Eris replied. “Even I am not so clever.”

“I would do nothing to harm mother…and I hardly need a father,” Lucien said, contemplating just how, exactly, Helion and his mother had managed to be together often enough a child had come of it. “Another father, anyway.” Eris stared into the fire until it danced for him, twisting and writhing, honored to be seen by him at all. Lucien watched with the same fascination he’d once felt as a boy. Eris’s magic was so strong, so potent. Lucien had only a drop of what his brother carried in his veins. Lucien supposed now he knew why. A High Lords son, but not the one he’d thought. One day he’d have to begrudgingly speak with Helion about it, before the moment, Lucien was content to stare at that dancing flame until Eris stood and it all but winked out, exhausted to ash.

Feyre came to rejoin Lucien when dusk fell. No Rhysand, no Night Court circle of friends and dreamers. Just Feyre, tired, weary, ancient and exhausted despite her youth. “Ianthe would lie to trick us,” she began, elbows on her knees.

“I know.”

“She would say anything to draw us out, to back us into a corner and kill us one by one.”

“I know.” “I’m so afraid she wasn’t lying,” Feyre finally told him, resting her head in her hands. “That he’s doing something terrible, that–” “Stop it,” Lucien interrupted, his chest painfully tight. “I don’t want to think about that.”

“I—” Feyre stilled, ear’s shifting in the wind. Lucien stood. He’d heard it too. Something was rumbling in the ground, something terrible…unnatural. Feyre joined him, walking through the camp with everyone else, sword in hand. Hybern was mobilizing, was going to attack against the cover of night. It was cowardice, a crime banned in their own rules of engagement. Not that Lucien expected Hybern to care.

“Holy Gods,” Cassian whispered, all seven of his red siphons gleaming as the ground between camps ripped itself open and the dead began to rise. It was an army of bones, of mindless, rotting flesh clawing its way from the dirt, called by magic none of them could feel. It was, all at once, a mad scramble to organize, to ready themselves when the majority of the camp had been all but ready for bed. Lucien stayed beside Feyre, watching as a sea of bodies he would never have known lay in that valley righted themselves into regimented lines. Not all held weapons and some were little more than bones held together by invisible strings.

They were ready by the time the ground stopped moving and the soldiers—thousands of them—stood ready for orders. Lucien’s heart hammered and it would have been a lie if he said he wasn’t scared. He could see his brother in the distance, making up the flanking side, cape fluttering as he watched. On the far other end stood the father he’d only just learned of, gleaming helmet of feathered gold, waiting for what would come next.

Screaming. Vengeful, hateful, female screaming ripped through the silence. It was as if the mother herself looked at what she created and found it horrifying beyond measure. Perhaps she did. The very sound chilled Lucien to the bone. Every dead soldier snapped their heads, turning to look to Hybern. Marching on Hybern.

“What’s happening?”

Lucien didn’t know who asked. Fire erupted at the heart of Hybern’s camp, bright and brilliant. It was as if Beron himself stood within its flames, commanding that flame to the Gods himself. The scene unfolding was pure, undiluted chaos. Something was happening within Hyberns ranks. Someone had turned on him. Lucien could only stand in wonder at the sound of terrified screaming as that undead army began to sweep through the night, punctuated with more exploding flame that seemed to be moving in a line, sweeping through the camp. As if someone ran with a torch, lighting whatever they found indiscriminately. It was hardly the actions of someone skilled and yet Lucien couldn’t help but admire their nerve.

“Should we do something?” Feyre asked but Rhysand shook his head with amusement.

“Let them destroy each other…we’ll pick off what remains.”

That scream ripped through the world, raking its claws down their senses. It was a language all its own, one they understood too well. That fury touched something deep in Lucien’s soul and he wondered what anyone could have done to elicit such a sound. It took them all a breathless moment to recognize what was striding among the dead, parting them like the sea. Bathed in silver flame, a sword slung over her shoulder, was a female in smoky gray, her hair wild around her sightless face. Feyre screamed then, hand pressed to her mouth. “Go get her!” she ordered. Cassian plunged into the fray before anyone else, wings tucked against his back as he pushed through that massive army of the dead trying so hard to surge into Hybern.

Feyre was at the edge of the hilltop, eyes searching desperately. Lucien tore his eyes from that terrifying female form to follow Feyre’s gaze. It was the fire that drew her. “Oh Gods,” she whispered, trembling so hard Lucien wondered how she stood. It took only a moment before Lucien understood what Feyre already knew.

Ianthe hadn’t lied. It was the eldest Archeron, made just as Feyre had once been that Cassian had gone to intercept and it was Elain, holding a burning torch in a sparkling white dress splattered with red. Tamlin was just beside her, his beastly form rising to her shoulders. Elain whipped her head to that army of dead, screaming lost words to the chaos of the night.

“Get her!” Feyre screamed again, to Azriel who plunged into the night. Elain cocked her head to the sky as Lucien bellowed her name, his terror clawing in his chest. She didn’t react as she slid her fingers over Tamlins fur.

And vanished into the night.

~*~

Elain would never forget how it felt to die. It was not peace, was not a soft and gentle rocking but burning and reforging. It was airless, lightless agony, stretching over an eternity. Elain did not beg for herself as she writhed, but for Nesta, whom she’d dragged into this mess. Spare her. Let it be easy.

And the darkness had begun to purr, a cat curling about her legs. Comforting her, easing her transition into immortality, not death. Elain would not die, not as Ianthe had promised. She pushed against that darkness and something sparked in her stomach. Some new magic that did not belong and yet as she swam towards that pinprick of light, Elain understood this was a gift. It was hers.

She tumbled from the Cauldron to general appreciative murmurs. “I suppose the Cauldron did not like you in red?” Were Hyberns' very first words. Elain pushed herself upwards on shaking arms, looking at the sparking cut of white now gleaming against her glowing skin. “What did I tell you? For the strong, it can be done.”

Elain met Nesta’s eyes.

“Put the hellcat in.”

Elain could only watch, helpless as Nesta was all but shoved in. Nesta, who had fought so hard for her normal life and her good job and her peace. Who had taken care of her when everything went wrong, had made no demands on Elain as she healed. It was Elain’s fault she was in, Elain’s fault when Nesta pointed that finger, as if she were marking Hybern for death. He chuckled, watching her with interest. With amusement and, perhaps, as Nesta finally vanished, lust.

He’d looked at her, Elain realized, the way too many men had over their lives. Like Nesta was something to conquer, something to break. Something he might enjoy bringing to heel, proof of his masculinity. And Nesta, Elain knew, would kill him for trying. She hoped to watch.

Nesta emerged as Elain had—spluttering and soaked, her dress a smokey shade of glittering gray. Nesta’s silver blue eyes seemed to burn with fire, her hatred evoking amusement from the king. “Perhaps I should put you in my tent.” Nesta screamed softly, pushing him back against that twisted throne as she gripped Elain’s hand. Arched ears, that glow of immortality…and that fairy way of shifting from flesh to fur. She’d accused Lucien of being a monster, once. Nesta seemed to embody it, her fury speaking to something primal in the soldiers around them.’

“Take them away,” Hybern ordered softly as those foul, human Queens turned to look at him, hope blazing in their ugly faces. Elain hoped they burned in hell for this, that they never had a moment's peace. They were tied back to that post, the same Nesta burned through the very second they were alone.

“Something happened,” she whispered but Elain wasn’t listening. The wind was chanting. Elain, Elain, Elain, it murmured against a vision of burning fire and howling wolves. Twin ravens swooping through the sky…or men, with wings, but that couldn’t be right? Coming for Nesta and her army of the undead, pulling her screaming into the sky.

Images continued to assault Elain throughout the day, shifting into nothing until she wasn’t sure what was real and what was the new magic writhing in her veins. From the vacancy in Nesta’s eyes, Elain knew she did the same. No one came to check, no one brought them anything to eat or drink or offered even a measured look of kindness. Afraid, she knew, though she wasn’t sure how. Elain just knew, the way she knew someone was walking towards them and the way she knew they would not spend another night in this camp.

“Tamlin,” she murmured mere moments before the High Lord stepped in. Unmasked. He was lovely, stunning in the fading light of day. Elain had been unprepared to see him without the green and gold covering his face, drinking in the tanned, chiseled features of his face. “Elain,” he breathed, looking to Nesta who remained utterly still. “Bron and Hart are waiting for you.” No Andras. That hurt was scabbed over. “Your sister too. Elain I…” he took a breath, offering her his hand. She took it without hesitation—she’d forgiven him long ago. “I’m sorry.” “I know,” Elain agreed. Nesta had risen to her feet, eyes gleaming with that silvery fire. Tamlin took a halting step backwards but Nesta wasn’t coming for him.

“Get her out of here.”

“We’re going together,” Elain replied firmly. Nesta had been here all of two days. What did she know about this place, this life? Beneath them, the ground shook with rumbling violence and Nesta grinned. It was a thing of hunger, of that writhing need. What had the Cauldron found when Nesta had gone in? What had it given to her?

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Nesta murmured. “Can’t you hear, them, Elain? The dead they…they whisper to me.”

“Elain,” Tamlin murmured with alarm. It wasn’t the dead that whispered to Elain, but the world itself. Elain, Elain, Elain, the wind chanted softly. It was that same cold wind she’d felt the first time she ever went to the wall though she hadn’t possessed the ability to hear what they said. Now, though…now Elain knew.

“This place is dangerous,” Elain whispered, blinking away the vision of Nesta commanding that terrible, rotting army.

“So am I.” Nesta strolled from the tent and the ground shook again. Elain went for her sister only for Tamlin to catch her around the waist.

“They’ll kill her,” Elain writhed. Tamlin’s eyes gleamed green with hate.

“Then we give them a distraction.”

Tamlin strode to one of the torches, igniting the tent she’d just come from. The blaze roared to the sky, drawing anyone who might have noticed Nesta walking towards the steep hillside. Tamlins body shifted into a terrible beast as tall as her, a creature of golden fur and the horns Andras had once worn. A tribute to his High Lord, she understood.

Elain took the torch from Tamlin’s terrible paw, beginning a run of carnage and fire while the ground beneath them groaned and shrieked. She could hear that terrible army, clawing towards Hybern. Revenge for what he’d done to them, for turning their trip through Spring into a horrible nightmare.

They burst from the side of the army just in time for that terrible winged beast to swoop over the sky. “Something is coming,” she murmured, inclining her head towards the massive creature. Tamlin growled.

“Let’s go,” he grumbled. Hybern had no interest in chasing her down, not when they realized Elain holding that fiery torch was merely a distraction for Nesta’s horrific screams of vengeance and the army she’d set upon them. More beasts took to the air just as Tamlin winnowed her away in warm, lilac scented air.

Elain slammed to the ground, knees nearly buckling at the sheer force. A hand caught her arm, drawing her up.

“Lady Elain,” Bron murmured, no hint of a smile on his face. And Elain, eyes bouncing from him and Hart, flung her arms around his neck. Unmasked and lovely and familiar Bron in his fighting leather. Her friend.

Hart’s blue eyes widened. “What happened to you?” he asked, eyes taking in the unmistakable glow of immortality.

She hadn’t meant to cry. Elain blinked and Hart’s face crumpled. “Lady Elain,” he murmured, brushing a hand over her hair. “Let me go get Lucien.”

“Please,” whispered.

Hart vanished, along with the rumbling and Elain buried her face in Bron’s shoulder.

And waited.

#i cant put this off forever i guess #elucien #elain x lucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #this chapter didn't come out like i wanted #and i dont know how to fix it #i just want to move on so SORRY #ENJOY YOUR COLD CAN OF SOUP

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creators-novel · 2 months

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DarkClaw is thrown back. The battlefield has gone quiet for just a moment, but Vyz’s eyes glint with excitement at the sight of it all. Surrounded by divine light, the Kurai siblings stand side-by-side, ready to join in.

“Well, well…glad to see you finally made it…Straus.”

Not missing a beat, Straus glares at Vyz, “You did this to him.”, he points at DarkClaw, who’s sprawled out on the forest floor, “You took my best friend…you won’t be taking another soul.”

Exisite looks up at Straus in awe and surprise, whose eyes soften upon seeing his successor. “…I’m so sorry for everything you’ve gone through…But I’ll make it better. I promise.” “Wha-?”, Exisite tries to pull himself back up. As he does, Vyz interjects, “By saying that, Straus, you’ve already done more than I expected you to…but that aside-“

“Stop speaking.”

Wasting no time, Straus rushes Vyz; their fists clash but the sheer force is enough to knock Vyz into the wall of his tomb. They push against each other, their abilities matched. Vyz laughs, “Such wonderful power at your disposal. And yet, you waste it on humility.” “Shut your mouth already!” “Oh, come on… you know you want to do what Red does to all the foes you face.”

What did he just say?! In a blink, Straus activates Divine Paranormatrix.

“You don’t have a blue clue do you!?”

As the rival powers continue their confrontation, Koto catches a glimpse at DarkClaw…gods, it’s worse than she thought. He looks awful. Uriel runs up to her and holds her hand, “I know it looks bad but…look out-!” DarkClaw roars and lunges towards the girls. Exisite jumps between them just in time and shoves him away, “STOP IT!” “Do we know how to save him yet-?!”, Koto asks. “What do you think!?”, Uriel yips. “aaaAAAAAA!!”, DarkClaw furiously tries to break away from Exisite as he keeps him from singling out anyone else. Just then, in another beam of light, Red appears, “Koto!” She turns around, “Red-!”, but taking her eyes off the fight was a big mistake. DarkClaw tosses Exisite to the side and rushes towards Koto! But! Just when it seems like she’ll be the next victim of corruption, a different scarlet streak strikes DarkClaw point blank, knocking him out.

Ex flips and lands on his feet, then flashes the others a confident smile, “Told ya I’d make it!”

“Right on time, big brother…”, sighs Uriel.

Vyz pushes Straus away and tries to strike him, but Straus ducks, grabs his arm and slams him overhead into the ground. When he spots Koto about to be hurt, his focus wanes, allowing Vyz to get the upper hand. He barrages Straus with an unending flurry of attacks. Getting her mind back to the fight, Koto steps in and summons a barrier between them. “Thank you…”, Straus huffs, “He’s…crazy.” “In a cold sweat, are you?”, Vyz catches his breath and stretches. Koto summons her knife and lowers the barrier.

Vyz cackles, “Hmhm… and here I thought that you wouldn’t be holding back.”

Straus grits his teeth, “We aren’t psychos like-“

“Like you?”

“Enough chatter!”, Koto snaps, “Listen- just put this World back to the way it was and we can settle all of this peacefully!”

“Oh, dear Koto…”, Vyz leans down to meet her glare, “…you can’t fathom what little tolerance I have for peace.”

“Yeah, whatever man.”, Straus mutters, “So you messed up our world for giggles? Or are you just another of Jupiter’s friends?”

“I’m no friend of hers. But it was funny to see how she handled dealing with you all plaguing her mind. You did the job for me~”

“Well, she’s dead now, and we can’t change that!” Straus once again charges into Vyz, this time sending him soaring into a wall of the tomb, which cracks on impact. “Just stand down, Vyz!”, Koto demands.

Vyz staggers back to his feet, “Is that any way to say ‘thank you’, Koto? After I dealt with that scientist for you?”

Straus blinks in surprise, “You what-?”

“You- you killed Feros?!”

“You’re welcome.”, Vyz teases.

Koto trips on her response, “But- but that’s no excuse for what you’ve done here!”

Vyz rolls his eyes, “Do you know how many people have felt like this throughout Jupiter’s rule? For thousands of years, they targeted countless worlds just like this one.”

“Yeah, we know.”, interrupts Ex, remembering what happened when everyone first encountered Jupiter and Synthis.

Vyz frowns, “…If there’s anyone you should be angry at. It’s the people who run that kingdom.”

“Clearly you did something to hurt them if you’ve been hiding away for so long.”, Straus reasons.

“I just wanted to live. But they wouldn’t have that… they targeted me because I’m like you…

Different.”

“-!?”

“I’m not trying to kill you, Straus. Because I can see that you and I are identical.

Help me show this stupid realm what it means to be the victim.”

“…”

Is he being honest? Vyz did all of this, the corruption and lockdown of their Worlds and their minds, going after their loved ones, and nearly torturing those brave enough to stand up to him…because he and Straus are the same? Could he sympathize with all that he’s gone through? Does he understand what being Impure in the eyes of a higher power means? Maybe… maybe he’s onto something?

“HE’S NOT GOING ANYWHERE WITH YOU!!”, Koto wails.

She feels a hand on her shoulder.

“…You wanna know what I think of that?”, Straus asks.

He moves Koto behind him, his tails glow, and he begins conjuring an immense amount of magical energy into his mouth. It feels like the moment slows to a halt, and yet also goes by in an instant. The people of Lightverse, even on the outskirts of the city, notice a blue light begin to shine from the forest. And Straus feels a voice calling out to him from his very soul.

“(Blow him up, kiddo.)”, says Para.

Before Vyz has a chance to counter, the force of Straus’ beam fires him into the tomb, making the entire thing collapse around him. No more Stygians emerge, they can’t come through even if they wanted to. The portal’s been cut off for good. Koto and Red catch Straus as the attack finishes. “You ok?”, asks Red, worried. “Mm… I used a lot for that.”, answers Straus with a cough. “What the…”, Castor diverts everyone’s attention to something new. With Vyz down and the portal gone, the corruption holding onto DarkClaw and the others crumbles away. “Mmmh-“, DarkClaw sits up, dazed. “Da-…sir?”, Castor sits next to him. Uriel also approaches, “DarkClaw…?” “Fffffffriggin…”, he shakes his head as his red lights flicker back on. Castor and Uriel look at each other and then back at him. “Sorrryyy I kinda fell asleep after you guys lef-“ “You’re back!!”, Uriel tackle-hugs him. “HCK-!”, DarkClaw falls over from the shock.

Koto looks to Straus and smiles, “You did it!” “Mm-!”, Straus nods, still a bit tuckered out.

“Celebrations are not necessary…”, Vyz says as he dusts the rubble off of his coat, “Don’t worry, children. You won’t be dying…for now anyway. Though, I have to give Straus credit.”, he pulls his hand away from his arm, revealing a bloody wound. “That did, in fact, hurt…We’ll settle this someplace else… but until then, see you all soon.”, and he vanishes through a dark portal. “…He’s not gonna stop.”, Castor realizes. “I doubt he will.”, Straus groans.

Later that night, the trio of Straus, Red, and Koto finally have a decent night’s rest after all that’s been occurring. Well, not quite yet. Koto lies away from the others, staring up at the unending sky of their Space. Instead of counting sheep, she tries to count all the potential Worlds that orbit around them.

“(Is something troubling you, Mistress?)”, wonders Illumi.

“(Eh…I’m just… thinking about what could happen next. There’re so many possibilities… and in any given situation, we could either win like we normally do…or… die. Just like he said we would.)”

“(…In that case, Mistress, you should try to rest in the event that something does happen. You need your strength, and the others will need your help.)”

“(Yeah…you’re right.)”, Koto turns over and gives a soft look to her friends before drifting off.

#creators #digital art #creators novel #original story #creators-novel.tumblr.com #my art #original character #original fiction #novel #Chapter 60 #We made it!!

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p33paw · 3 years

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broken contract

zhongli x f!reader

summary | breaking a promise to zhongli, and paying the price with spread legs (pwp, thigh riding, cockwarming, overstimulation, praise kink, sir kink, degrading kink)

warnings | nsfw

word count | ~10k

links | ao3

I would never get drunk in the middle of the day.

But— Beidou is only in town for the day, a short stop sandwiched between two several month long expeditions spent sailing the sea, too far away for contact. We settled to meet at the Third-Round Knockout. Her, me, a table of food, and all morning to talk before she visits the other people she cares about. We each got a single drink to toast with, then one became two, two became three, and... well...

I might be drunk in the middle of the day.

"Zhongli is going to kill me—" I groan, planting my head into my arms, leaning into the table.

I was supposed to meet with him today as well, as soon as Beidou's left. I can feel the heat on my flushed face where it connects with my skin. I'm drunk. He hates when I drink, enough that he told me to never drink before I see him.

Beidou grunts, and I hear the creak of her chair as she leans back in it.

"What's with you and that old man?" She asks, followed by the thud of her empty glass hitting the table. She calls for another round, and I groan again, tilting my head up to look at her.

"Wha'd'you mean?" I ask, pouting my lower lip out.

Beidou squints at me, then lifts her hands to gesture.

"Are you—" She holds her tongue with her teeth, a look of concentration knitting her brow. She forms her index finger and thumb on one hand into a circle, then pushes her other pointer finger out, jamming it into the circle she created. "—y'know."

As she continues to thrust her finger into the space created by her hand, the waiter approaches, dropping two new drinks in front of us. Beidou doesn't notice, but she's shot a dirty look.

I squint at her, knowing exactly what she's asking, but refusing to answer truthfully.

"No?" I sit all the way up, batting my eyelashes to antagonize her. "What are you talking about?" As I finish speaking, I lift my new drink, sipping it to keep my buzz if this is the conversation we're having.

Beidou blinks back, a delirious and gullible look in her eyes.

"Are you gonna go have sex with him?" She asks, point blank.

I choke on my drink, not expecting to hear the question. I have to take a moment to steady myself, eyes flicking up to Beidou as she crosses her arms and stares me down.

"I— I—" I blink, stumbling over my words, trying to collect my thoughts. I settle for a jab back, looking at Beidou with as much courage as I can muster. "Are you gonna go have sex with Ningguang?" I ask.

Beidou's brows tick in, a no less severe expression on her face. "Of course." She says, just as brash. "Now answer my question."

I falter, pursing my lips. Damn, I thought that would buy me more time.

"I'm—" I start, trying to look up and meet her eyes. I end up shying away from her severe stare, hiding in my drink. "Yes." I admit, no way around it. "We are... involved."

"Involved?" Asks Beidou, leaning in, "Like more than just having sex?"

I suck my lower lip in, hesitant to talk about it. This is something that happened recently, more than a month after Beidou last left Liyue Harbor. My hands instinctively come together, my fingers resting on a bracelet that was a gift from Zhongli. He called it the contract of what we have between us, the guarantee of the promises we've made each other, and the reminder than I belong to him. There's no official title, but...

"A lot more than just sex." I say.

Beidou 'oohs', leaning in even closer.

Before she can get another word out, the door to the tavern swings open with a slam. Beidou and I both crane our necks to look. Standing in the entryway, tall, elegant and beautiful, is lady Ningguang. Her eyes are locked to Beidou though, and intimidating enough that I find myself faltering.

She walks in, tailed by two guards.

"You're in trouble now—" I whisper back, trying to make myself look at small as possible.

Beidou shoots me a glare of her own, before pulling her face into a wide smile, staring at Ningguang as she approaches.

"Hey—y my beautiful flower, has anyone told you how lovely and gentle and beautiful and intelligent and—" Beidou starts, interrupted by Ningguang.

"I've been waiting for hours." Ningguang says, voice severe, barely flicking her eyes over to me. She gives me a curt nod of acknowledgment and I blink back in surprise.

Beidou squints at her. "I— told you I'd finish lunch at twelve." She says as looks over to me. "My friends are just as important to me—"

Ningguang immediately reaches to her side, pulling a pocket watch from a chain where it's fastened. She flips it open, pushing it forward, directly toward Beidou. Beidou leans in, lifting her brows as she reads the time, surprise clear in her expression.

"Now what does that say?" Ningguang asks, staring Beidou down.

Beidou swallows, eyes flicking up to stare at the other woman. "Two-oh-six." She says, lifting her drink, finishing it in a single swig, dropping the empty glass to the table, then slowly starting to stand.

Shit. I promised Zhongli I'd be done by noon, myself.

Beidou turns to me once standing, reaching a hand over to clasp my shoulder. "I'm glad to have seen you," She starts, "If my next adventure finds me dead—" She nervously glances toward Ningguang, "Know that you were my greatest friend." At that, she reaches into her pocket, pulling out and slamming down a satchel of mora that is certainly— more than enough to pay our tab. She turns, walking away from the table.

Ningguang smiles, small, watching Beidou approach her, before turning her gaze to me. "I'm sorry for interrupting—" She says, lifting her hands together, looking apologetic. "I'm sure you understand?"

I nod, giving her a reassuring smile of my own. "I had plenty of time with her." I say back, waving her off.

I lift to my feet to stand and leave as well, met with a head rush that makes me waver. I have to shoot my hands out to the table to steady myself, coming into the realization that I drank much more than I should have.

A hand darts forward, landing on my arm, holding me steady.

"Are you alright?" I hear Ningguang ask, much closer than before.

I nod, slowly blinking, trying to focus my eyes, batting her away.

"I'm fine— just a bit—" As I try to step away, I stumble, barely catching myself on another table. "—drunk." I sigh out, then look up to Beidou to glare. "I hate you." I bite out. I always try to drink as much as her, and, inevitably, end up far drunker.

Beidou gives me a toothy grin, shrugging. "Learn to hold your liquor." She says.

Still next to me, Ningguang turns to glare at Beidou, until the smile slips from her face. She looks to the side, sheepish.

"You're in no condition to get home alone." Ningguang says, lifting her hand and snapping her fingers together.

One of the two guards steps forward, at attention, walking up next to us.

"Assure that she arrives home safely." She says, voice stern, before turning back to meet my eyes again. "If you tell him where you live he'll get you home. Let me know if there are any problems." She says, then steps away before I can protest, back to Beidou's side.

Together, the two turn, walking for the exit. Beidou looks back, giving me another wave as she's ushered away, until the door swings shut behind them, and I'm alone with the guard.

"Where do you live, ma'am?" He asks.

I look up at him, feeling sheepish. I'm drunk, that doesn't mean a need a guard to walk me home.

"You can— leave me." I start. "I'm more than capable of getting home, I'm not sure why Lady Ningguang even—" I take the first step forward, lose my footing, and fall over face first, collapsing to the ground.

I groan, collecting myself and sitting up, blowing a stressed breath. Maybe it's good Beidou's only home a few days a year, she'd drink me into an early death otherwise.

The guard's hands land on me this time, helping me to stand. I let him, but once I'm up, the hands don't come off. Instead, I'm lifted up into his arms, until he's carrying me.

"Just tell me where to go." The guard starts, looking embarrassed for me. "Ma'am."

I huff a sigh with half a mind to struggle to get out of his hold— but— realize it isn't worth it. I would probably just fall on my ass if I attempted to walk anywhere, this is likely for the best.

Now, I have to consider my options. Fake sick and abandon my plans with Zhongli because I'm in no state to meet him, or—

Zhongli's address spills from my mouth, something selfish and needy rearing in my chest. I want to see him, I don't care how much trouble I'll be in once he sees my current state.

The guard nods, walking forward with me in his arms. It's foreign to exit a bar belligerently drunk and see it's still the middle of the day. The outside is busy with working people despite the clouds in the sky and the threat of rain looming above them.

I hide my face in my own shoulder, embarrassed as the guard strides forward, down the streets, deeper into the city, carrying me to where Zhongli lives. The closer we approach, the more nervous I get, mind racing at how he might react to the mistake I've made.

I really shouldn't be drunk.

My stomach twists as I spot Zhongli's home, and consider my current position. I'm already going to be in enough trouble as it is— I don't need him to see me in another man's arms. I lift my hand, tapping the shoulder of the guard, signaling to be let down. The guard listens, lowering me to my feet. I have to take a second to balance myself, but finally find my bearings, walking forward to close what feels like an immeasurable distance between me and Zhongli.

I approach his threshold, but before I can knock, the door opens. Zhongli stands in the entryway, his eyes flicking between me and the guard at my back, his expression set.

"Didn't we agree you'd arrive by noon?" He asks, finally staring at just me.

I nod, then stumble toward him. He receives me in his arms, holding me tight as I bury myself in his chest. His arms feel massive as they wrap me, cradling me like I'm something fragile. I drag in an inhale, breathing in the scent of clear spring and mountain air that seems ever present on him.

"Are you alright?" He asks, softer.

I tilt my head back to look at him, and see his face is knit with concern. I nod, staring up at him through my lashes.

"I'm— f-fine." I slur out, then watch as Zhongli's brow ticks in.

There's a drop in my stomach as it happens, knowing he's become aware of what's made me late. He looks away from me, up to the guard.

"Thank you." He says, voice firm, before guiding me into his house.

"I'm sorry—" I try to start, keeping pressed to his side, my fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt.

Zhongli closes the door, soft, careful, before turning to look at me again.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" He asks, disappointment clear in his voice.

I nod, moving my hands against his abdomen. I keep touching, grabbing, pawing at him.

"I'm sorry—" I repeat, lifting my hand to his chest. "Can I make it up to you? I—"

Zhongli catches me at the wrist, holding my hands still. He sighs, then walks away without another word. I stay in place, fidgeting with the bracelet on my wrist, restlessness and guilt twisting my stomach, as I wait, I hear water start to run.

He reappears, walking straight for me. He lands his hands on me in silence, lifting me into his arms. I curl my fingers into his shoulder, holding tight as he carries me to the bathroom. I look around, noting that the bath is running, filling with water.

I'm carefully lowered to my feet, then Zhongli steps back, creating distance, crossing his arms across his chest. He looks right at me.

"Do you need help undressing?" He asks.

I shake my head no, stumbling over my own feet as I grab the hem of my dress, lifting it up and off. It falls to the floor with a thump. Standing in my undergarments, I can feel Zhongli's eyes on me, burning me in the way they flick across my body, studying me. I embarrass, shoving my panties down and off as quickly as I can, shedding my bra even faster, then standing nude with my arms wrapped around my core.

"It's ready for you." Zhongli says next, the sound of water flowing cut short.

I look up to meet his eyes, finding them locked to my body, searching the expanse of it. I carefully step forward, until I'm directly in front of him.

"I'm sorry—" I repeat, feeling small, watching as his steady gaze locks back to my face.

"It's okay." He says. "We can talk about it later."

I nod, tight, still in my own head. I almost want him to be mad, to express the upset I see clear on his face so that the guilt in my stomach settles. Instead, his words and actions are measured with restraint.

I look away from him toward the bath. It's drawn high, shimmering with soap. I lift my leg, stepping in, until I'm standing in the water. Then, I lower myself in, sinking into the warm feeling that envelops my body.

I glance back over to Zhongli, watching as he walks to the door, sheds his jacket, and hangs it. From there, he turns, walking back toward the bath, removing his gloves, unpinning his cufflinks, slipping them both into his pocket. He carefully rolls his sleeves up his forearms, one at a time.

My heart jumps to my throat as he reveals his arms, thick with muscle and defined veins like his hands, a light ghosting of hair that covers the entire limb. He kneels next to the tub, lifting a bottle of soap. He pours the soap into his hands, then pushes those hands forward, landing them on my body.

"I'm sorry." I repeat, voice as small as I can make it, searching the hard line of his unwavering expression.

His eyes flick up to meet mine, piercing in the way they look at me. He slides his soaped hand against my skin, over my chest, up to my neck. He rests there, caressing with his thumb, keeping his eyes on me.

"You reek of alcohol." He says, voice low and gentle. "Didn't you promise to never drink before seeing me?"

I duck my head, heart jumping to my throat. I nod, tight. "Yes." I breathe out, blinking down to watch my hands curl around each other underneath the water. "I'm sorry." I repeat.

Zhongli says no more, but continues to move his hands. He drags them along me with purpose, washing every square inch of my body in silence, before he's up, grabbing a toothbrush from his counter. He kneels back down, holding the brush, staring at me.

"Can you open your mouth for me?" He coaxes.

I swallow around my tongue, but do, just parting my lips.

Zhongli's free hand comes up, cupping my face. His thumb forces between my lips, pressing to my bottom row of teeth. He opens my mouth, pulling his thumb back, only to dig his fingers into my cheeks, holding my face in place. He moves forward with the toothbrush, pushing it into my mouth, watching it go in, all while I search his face.

He starts to move, brushing the caps of my teeth, moving the brush in and out of my mouth, dragging it against my lips. I find my eyes fluttering shut, embarrassment overwhelming me.

All of this is because I couldn't control myself, and now, I have to be cared for. He finishes brushing my teeth, allows me to rinse, then pulls the plug from the bath. He stands up, finds a towel, dries his hands on it, and brings it to me.

"Will you be okay on your own for a moment?" He asks, waiting until I nod in confirmation to stand up and walk away.

Once he's gone, I lift my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. I wait in the bath while the water drains, consumed with upset. I just want him to kiss me the way he always does, hold me tight, and make me feel like nothing else in the world matters. Instead, I'm helpless as he picks up the pieces of me.

There's a small tremble in my core as I stand up. It's a sinking feeling that acknowledges my fault, a repeated reminder that I'm the one who fucked up and crossed the boundaries we set.

I reach for the towel that Zhongli used, dry off with it, then walk out of the bathroom. I go straight for his bedroom, finding pajamas already laid out for me on the bed. It's a top and bottom set, silken, too large, I lift the buttoned top, slipping it over my head without unbuttoning anything. The hem falls past the middle of my thigh, wearing more like a dress than anything else. I don't bother with the pants.

I poke my fingers from the oversized sleeves, curling them into the fabric at the collar of the shirt, lifting it to my face. I breathe in, finding it rich with the scent that lingers on Zhongli. I nearly buckle, eyes fluttering shut as I breathe it in, grounding myself in it.

When I open my eyes again, reality comes crashing back.

I walk out of the bedroom, eyes peeled for Zhongli. I find him in his kitchen, dropping a mixture of leaves into a pot of still water that sits on a low flame. His sleeves are still rolled up to his elbow, the muscles of his forearms flexing as he uses them.

I make a noise, watching him, wishing his hands were on me. He glances back.

"You should lay down until the tea is done." He says, quiet.

Though I know it's for the best, I refuse to listen. I shake my head no, walking toward him with uncertainty.

"I don't—" I start, taking a ragged breath. "Are you angry? I don't want you to be upset with me— please, I—" I falter as Zhongli pauses his movement. "Please." I repeat, begging, breathier than last time.

Pin prick tears collect at the corners of my eyes, desperation for reassurance fueling my courage.

Finally, Zhongli turns and approaches me, his expression strained. He lands one hand on my waist, sliding it up my side. His other cups my chin, gentler than I expect, running his thumb along my bottom lip to my cheek.

"Go lay down." He repeats, his face relaxing into something kinder, more familiar. "You'll feel better if you lay down."

I whine, wrapping my arms around him tighter, hesitant to let go now that I've got some of the attention I desperately wanted.

"Do you hate me now?" I ask, voice small.

Zhongli's brows lift, his hand traveling higher to thumb the tear from my eye. He moves in closer, holding eye contact with me.

"Of course not." He says, quiet, holding my face steady to lean in and press a chaste kiss to my lips. "I am upset." He says, his breath warm against my lips, tightening his hand on my waist to pull me closer. "But we can wait to address it when you're sober." He presses another kiss.

Though the words are severe, it's a relief. I press into his lips with all of my might, digging my fingers into his shoulders, steadying myself. He can still love me the same, despite my mistakes.

Zhongli pulls back from the kiss with a soft noise, quickly turning to attend to the pot. I finally relax, moving with him, keeping myself pressed against his broad back, my arms looping his waist.

"You're too kind to me." I mumble, muffled by his shirt.

Maybe it's the drive of the alcohol, or the way his hands felt when he ran them along my body as he washed me, or maybe even just his kindness, but I find myself craving intimacy. I carefully drag my hands down his abdomen, grazing my fingers against the fabric of his shirt, until I reach his belt. There, I move carefully, working my fingers to lift the clasp, my other hand dragging down across his lap as I hold my breath.

Zhongli goes still beneath my palms. I move slower, glacially, pressing against his belt. I don't make it far before his hand covers my own, stilling my movement.

"No." He says, voice low and soft. "Not while you're drunk."

I whine, pressing against his back. "But I want to—" I pout.

Zhongli turns to face me, an unfamiliar stern look on his face. "No." He repeats, just as he lands his hands on me and lifts me into his arms.

I'm helplessly carried to his bedroom, then, unceremoniously dumped onto his bed.

"Rest until the tea is done." Zhongli says, an order, before leaning in and pressing a parting kiss to my forehead. "I'll be back when it's ready." He says, then pulls back.

I puff my cheeks out, pouting, but refrain from protest. Zhongli turns, walking back out of the room, leaving me alone. I decide to settle, admitting that he's right, I should lay down. I wrap myself in a comforter, burying my face in his pillows, and let my eyes shut. I find myself relaxing, mind filled with memories of us in this bed together, and how safe I feel here, until I slip into sleep.

***

I open my eyes, disoriented, watching Zhongli's back retreat from the room. I blink slowly, sitting up, lifting my hands to rub my eyes. I must've fallen asleep, and, I glance out a window, noting the setting sun in the sky, it must've been for hours.

I take in my surroundings, noticing that to my side is a cup of tea on a plate, billowing a soft cloud of steam. I steady myself before reaching for it, then lift it to drink. It tastes floral, minty, bright against my desensitized tongue.

I blink again, trying to focus my eyes as I recollect the events of the day. I notice a slight ache in my head, and remember the fact that I was drunk.

Embarrassment heats my face, the automatic memory of Zhongli's disappointment in me springing to the forefront. I hide in the cup of tea, willing myself to forget.

It's a useless effort.

Though, as memories come back in, I come to a conclusion: I owe Zhongli my thanks, and maybe another apology.

I tilt the cup of tea back, finishing it despite its temperature, then set the empty cup down on it's plate. I lift from bed, stumbling out to the living area, searching for what I want. I find him lounging, a book open in his hands. He hardly glances up at me, brows raised.

"How do you feel?" He asks.

I ignore the question, striding right for him. I plant a hand on his shoulder, swing my leg over his lap, then crawl on top of him, forcing my way into his hold. His arms come back together behind my back, keeping his book steady.

"Better." I finally mumble, once I'm in his lap.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"I'm better." I mumble, pressing my face into his neck, taking care to breathe in a way he can feel. "Thanks to you."

Close like this, I find the same feeling from earlier, a desire for his hands on me, running along my body, the desire to be wanted. I tilt in closer, arching my spine to press our bodies flush. I land a hand on his chest, and slowly drag it down his abdomen.

"Is that so?" Zhongli asks back, voice low, breathy.

I nod into his neck. "You took care of me..." I continue, dragging my hand lower with my goal in mind, resting my fingertips against his belt. "Now I want to take care of you—" My hand ghosts lower, until I'm resting my palm flat against where his cock sits.

I only make it that far before Zhongli's hand covers mine, stopping my movement, pulling it back. I tilt my head back, looking at him with a confused pout. This is the second time he's stopped me. His face is calm, neutral other than the slight uptick in the corner of his lips, his lowered eyes flicking down my face in a controlled way.

"You can't have everything you want." He says, voice low enough my stomach tightens.

He drops my hand from his hold, lifting his own hand to brush my hair from my face. He grazes his fingers against my cheek, holding his eyes on me until I falter, tucking my chin down, embarrassment burning my skin.

He immediately catches my chin, tilting my face back up.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" He says, then sighs, pressing his thumb to my lower lip. "You disobeyed our contract, broke my trust and—" His eyes flick across my face, calculating. "—you need to be punished for it."

I swallow, retracting my hands to myself, curling them in the loose fabric of the shirt I'm wearing, unable to look at up at him. This isn't what I expected, but—

"I'm sorry." I mumble, tilting my hips to press against his lap, keeping my legs spread. "You can—"

"No." Zhongli says as his other hand drops to my hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh to hold me in place. "What kind of discipline is that?" He asks. "Giving you exactly what you want—" He leans in toward me, until his lips hover next to mine. "Exactly what you're desperate for—" His hand slides up my side, to the bottom of my ribs. "—aren't you?"

I whine, nodding, breaking my thin restraint to roll my hips, pressing our bodies together as close as I can without him being inside of me.

"Please—" I breathe out, not above begging.

Zhongli's hands both drop to my hips, stilling my movement. He handles me with his firm grip, until I'm forced off of his lap. He moves my hips into place, sitting me down on his thigh. He holds me there, his expression relaxed as he stares me down.

"Why don't you show me? Show me how desperate you are." He says.

His leg lifts, pressing against everything bare between my legs, giving a moment of pressure. I nearly buckle, relief and arousal curling in my stomach as I finally feel him stimulate me. Then, he stops. I buck my hips, grinding myself against his thigh, chasing to find the same pressure again.

"That's it—" He coaxes out. "Just like that."

I warm under the praise, looking up at him through my lashes, continuing to move my hips, fucking myself against his clothed thigh. All I have the mind to do is roll my hips, my breaths coming out heavier, cut only by soft moans, the pressure between my legs from my movement enough to stimulate my clit.

"Such a pretty sight—" Zhongli continues, watching me. "—getting yourself off on my thigh." At that, his thigh lifts again, the pressure enough to pull another whine from my throat

His lips twitch to smile as he hears it, his thumbs hooking into the hem of my shirt. He pulls it up, just barely, not far enough to expose more than my thighs. He lifts his leg again, pressing until I gasp, clenching around his thigh with my own.

He relaxes his leg as I whimper, leaning in toward him. My hips buck, grinding at a more rapid pace, arousal burning low in my abdomen. I whine, lifting one hand to his bicep, curling my fingers around it, holding on to steady myself.

Zhongli tilts his chin back, watching me through half-lidded eyes.

"I bet you can cum just from my thigh, can't you?" He asks.

I nod, swallowing around my tongue, struggling to keep my eyes open as I roll against his thigh in a rhythm, fighting to stimulate my clit, everything between my legs dripping wet as it slides together.

"Pathetic little girl." Zhongli sighs out. "Undisciplined, so easy to make finish." He lifts a hand, sliding it up my thigh, until he's holding my waist with the shirt hitched up around his wrist.

He exposes me with the motion, his eyes turning down to watch me grind myself against his thigh with short desperate movements.

"I bet you feel good, don't you?" He asks, briefly flicking his eyes back up to my face. "Do you want something?"

I whimper, nodding, the movement of my hips losing rhythm, unevenly jerking against his thigh.

"Use your words." He says back.

"Please— please— let me cum— let me— let me cum—" I breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as I chase the pleasure.

"Not yet. Keep going." Zhongli says back. "I want to hear you keep begging... those little noises you let out when you're desperate."

I blink my eyes back open, searching his face as I nod. Though his expression remains calm, there's a flush collecting on his cheeks. And, when I look down, I see his cock is standing to attention, the fabric of his pants tight around the length. I whimper out another moan, twisting my hand in the fabric of his shirt on his bicep, changing the pace of my hips to move faster, the pleasure drawing me in.

Zhongli lets out a noise, holding my hip tighter to slow my movement. He leans in, pressing a kiss to my neck, the warmth of his mouth catching my heart in my throat as his lips continue, brushing along my jaw, until he reaches my ear.

"I can tell what you want." He says, voice low. "You always spread your legs for me, beg me to fuck you, like you deserve it." He moves in closer, nipping my earlobe. "Slow down." He demands.

I'm quick to listen, changing the movement of my hips to slow, intentional rolls, careful to stimulate everything between my legs with each movement. He lifts his leg between mine, pressuring until I whimper, arching my back to move with him.

"Such a pretty noise." Zhongli sighs out, relaxing his leg and leaning back again to watch me. "You can be such a good girl when you listen to me."

My eyes flutter shut, heat warming my chest as I bloom from the praise. I move my hips with intent, pleasure at the forefront of my mind.

"Please—" I beg again. "Let me cum, please sir—" The honorific slips off my tongue, followed by a breathless moan.

Zhongli responds with a pleased noise, his hands tensing on my hips.

"Go ahead." He finally assents. "Ruin yourself with nothing but my thigh. Let me see it."

Permission is all it takes, my entire body rocking as I roll against his thigh the final few times, crashing into an orgasm that grips my muscles tight enough I tremble.

I lift from his knee with a broken moan, tilting forward, arching my back as I succumb to my climax.

As I still tremble, coming down from the high, my breathes panted, Zhongli releases my hip, moving to press his hand between my legs. His other hand hooks into the fabric of my shirt, pulling it above my navel, displaying my body to him. His fingers slide against my pussy, eased by the collecting slick. They feel blunt, spreading me open, then—

I gasp as his fingers press to my clit. My still cum sensitive pussy flutters, gripping on air. My body is torn between pressing into it, or jerking away in over-sensitivity. My thighs twitch, abdomen held tight enough to hurt.

"Look at you." Zhongli sighs out, his eyes locked between my legs. "Such a mess just from riding my thigh— spread open like that's all you're good for." He moves his fingers, gently pressing his index and middle to circle my clit, playing with me despite the way I twitch in oversensitivity.

"You're beautiful like this." He breathes. "I can't imagine how beautiful you'll look when I'm inside of you." He says, then finally retracts his hands, landing them both on his belt as he carefully works to unbuckle and open it.

His fingers move quick, intentional, knowledgeable in the way he undoes the clasp. He doesn't go further than that, instead lifting his hand to catch my wrist, pulling it toward his lap. I whine, taking control back as my hand is guided, fumbling to push into his undergarments, wrapping my hand around his cock. He lifts his hips, helping me adjust further, until his cock is free, flushed red with blood, painfully hard, resting against his stomach, exposed.

My stomach tightens just looking at Zhongli's cock. I'm up before I realize I am, sinking to the ground on my knees, directly between his legs. He watches me with a relaxed smile, his eyes half lidded. I wrap my hand around the base of his cock, steadying it as he lifts a hand to cup my cheek, helping me guide in. I push my tongue out, making contact with the head of his cock first. I lap at the slit, the taste of his skin salty on my tongue.

Zhongli's stomach twitches, his cock pulsing in my hand as I finally stimulate him back. I lower my eyes, staring only at his cock, then lean all the way in, taking him into my mouth with a soft moan.

I hear a breathy noise from above me, quiet, and force myself to take his cock deeper, feeling it throb against my tongue.

"Perfect— such a perfect girl—" Zhongli praises, running his fingers through my hair, petting me before he grips again, holding tight. "You know just how to make me feel good— so pretty with my cock down your throat—" He moans again as my mouth tightens. I fight to relax my throat, desperate to take him deeper.

I rock my hips against nothing, like I'm still sat on Zhongli's thigh, moans high in my throat vibrating around his cock. I can feel the arousal between my legs, cascading down my thighs, creating even more of a mess as I move my mouth on his cock, sloppy, focused only on making him feel good as I move my head.

I'm doing well if the constant low moans from Zhongli mean anything.

"Just like that—" He continues to praise. "So good—"

I flutter my eyes shut, forcing myself to take him into my throat again, curling my tongue along the shaft of his cock to follow a vein. His cock throbs against my tongue, his abdomen twitching above me. It lasts for only a moment before a hand lands in my hair, holding tight, pulling me off.

I look at Zhongli with a pout, noticing he looks fucked out of his mind, slowly blinking back at me. I move forward, pushing my tongue out, leaning in open mouthed, desperate for the taste of cum down my throat.

I look up at Zhongli through my lashes, begging with my eyes.

He huffs, blinking down at me. "Not yet." He says. "You don't deserve it yet."

Before I can protest, he releases me, moving his hands back to relax on his thighs.

"Up." He demands.

I nod, swallowing around my nerves, lifting back to my feet on unsteady legs. Zhongli's eyes flick down to my thighs, the slick coating them, glinting in the lowlight. His hands move toward me again, landing on my hips, tugging me closer between his legs. Once he's satisfied with my position, he lifts his hands to unbutton the shirt I'm wearing.

He does each button slowly, intentionally, revealing a new line of skin down my chest, down my stomach, following it with his eyes, until he opens the shirt, putting my body fully on display. I fight to not shy away as he drags his eyes along me, his jaw tensing in restraint.

He doesn't hold for long.

Zhongli's arms wrap my waist, pulling me even closer as he leans in, landing his lips on my stomach. His breath is hot as he drags his mouth across my abdomen, pressing a kiss when he sees fit.

I lift my arms, curling them around his shoulders to cradle his head, one of my knees lifting to rest on his thigh. He keeps one arm wrapped around my waist, tight, holding me in place. He drops the other, pushing his hand back between my legs. This time, he has a goal in mind, his rough fingers sliding against the soft skin of my pussy just to wet them, before pushing them further back, until the pads of his fingers just rest at my entrance.

I pull in a sharp breath, my legs tensing in anticipation for him to finally be inside of me, even if it's just his fingers. His mouth moves again, up my ribs, to my chest, his breath hot against my breast, his tongue pushing out to lap at my nipple just as— ah.

I gasp, my body tensing as Zhongli's fingers finally push in, two sinking into me, stretching me out as he curls them up, petting my insides. He distracts me by rolling my nipple with his teeth, a pleased noise low in his throat as I react, arching toward his stimulation, melting into his control.

His fingers are slow, careful to not hurt me as he pumps them in and out of me. I flutter my pussy, gripping down, desperate to feel him deeper. I lift my hands, carding them into his hair to hold tight, still cradling his head as he moves his mouth of my breast up to my collar, scraping with his teeth.

I feel the pressure of another finger resting at my entrance and tense my thighs, already stretched tight. His lips move higher, pressing a kiss to the base of my neck as the only warning I get before the third finger pushes in, pulling a whimper from low in my throat.

Zhongli keeps his stimulation gentle, darting his tongue out to drag it up the tendon of my neck, sinking his fingers back into me, stretching me with the taper of his fingers' girth. I tug his hair tight, tight enough to pull him from my neck, forcing him to tilt his head back and look at me. His expression is dark, unsated, desire apparent. I take panted breaths, staring back down at him as I milk his fingers.

"Please—" I breathe out. "Please, sir."

It's all it takes, the corner of Zhongli's lips twitching to smile as he pulls his fingers out of me, dragging a wave of slick with them. I tilt my head down to watch as he leads that hand to his lap, wrapping it around his cock, pumping and wetting the length.

His hand on my waist drops down my hip, guiding me to turn my back to him. He holds tight, lifting and handling me until I'm spread on his lap, my knees planted to either side of his, his mouth pressed to my shoulder. He wraps my waist from behind, holding me in place to his chest.

His other hand stays on his cock, guiding to press the head of it to my pussy. He slides against me, dragging the tip through everything sensitive, before lining up with my entrance. He holds his cock steady, kissing along the length of my shoulder, to my neck, waiting with his lips pressed to my ear.

"Go ahead." He breathes out. "Take it."

I swallow, nodding, looking down my abdomen, staring at his cock where it connects with me. I lift my hands, curling them around the arm he's wrapped my waist with, digging in with my nails to hold tight as I shift my hips, sinking down on his cock. I feel his stomach tighten against my back, a jagged breath escaping his lips as I finally envelop him, lowering onto his cock until I'm resting in his lap, our bodies fully connected.

I only pause for a moment, small moans slipping from my mouth as I adjust to finally being stretched on his cock. I can't help but move, lifting my knees to bounce in his lap, fucking myself.

Zhongli's sucks in a breath once I move, sharp, tightening the hand he has on my waist to hold me in place.

"Not yet." He says, voice low, restrained. "You don't deserve it yet. Sit." He demands.

I whine, fluttering my pussy along the length of his cock, just barely shifting my hips to keep stimulated.

"Please—" I beg again, desperate to move.

"No." He says back, firm in his resolve. "I want to see how desperate you can get—" His free hand drops between my legs, sliding against my pussy to explore where I'm stretched on his cock.

"Keep begging." He sighs out, dragging his fingers to my clit, evenly pressuring.

"Please, I— ah—" I draw in a sharp breath as his mouth continues to move against my shoulder, tightening down on the skin, sucking to bruise.

I whine as he loosens his mouth, dragging his tongue along the mark to soothe it, then moves higher, sucking another.

"I—I—" I swallow around my noises, hips fighting to move as Zhongli keeps me held in place. "I want you to feel good— please—" I manage to gasp out. "Let me— let me make you feel good—"

Zhongli makes a noise, low, that rumbles his chest where it's pressed to my back. He moves his arm from my waist up, dragging his fingers into my soft skin that gives under his touch, up to my neck. He circles my neck with his hand, his palm flat to my throat. His chin hooks over my shoulder, tilting down so he can watch the muscles of my abdomen tense, his fingers still playing between my legs. The hand on my throat tightens, holding me still, until there's a fuzz in my brain, intoxicating in the way he's controlling me.

"I do feel good." He breathes out. "—watching you like this— trembling little thing—" He squeezes the sides of my throat tight, speeding his fingers to a stutter against my clit.

I whimper, entire body pulling tight enough to shake, being forced toward another orgasm quicker than I can handle.

"You can't even control yourself— all those noises— you're so reactive." He tapers off, voice low.

He slows his fingers to more intentional strokes, dragging my orgasm out of me. I shout, eyes rolling back as the feeling overtakes. I dig into his arms with my nails, shaking through it as I cum in waves. It pulses through my abdomen, making me tighten on his cock. He goes until it's too much, continuing to pet my clit even as my hips jerk, whines constant in my throat, body arching away from the stimulation in oversensitivity.

"Please— sir—" I beg again, whining as tears collect in my eyes.

"You should see yourself—" He continues speaking, unfazed despite the way his fingers finally move from my clit, dragging up to rest his palm flat to my twitching abdomen.

I swallow, fighting to open my eyes, head rolling back, thoughts fuzzy.

"I want—" I start, mumbling. "I want to make you feel good— please fuck me—" I beg.

Zhongli huffs a laugh against my back. "So," he starts, soft, "You want—" His hips adjust, his arm steadying me as he finally snaps his hips up, fucking into me once.

It pulls a guttural moan from my throat, my mentality lost as I melt in his hands.

"—this?" He asks, rocking his hips against my ass before pulling back and snapping them again.

I whimper, managing to nod despite the way my head rolls back.

"Yeah— yes—" I mewl out, completely pliant in his hands.

Zhongli hums in consideration, tightening his grip on my hips to hold me still, then finally fucks himself into me, rolling his hips in a rhythm. The room fills with the sound of our skin connecting, my wanton moans a constant that he meets with heavy breaths of his own, unwavering as he fucks himself up into my lax body.

His endurance might be the death of me, his thrusts never stopping as I bounce in his lap from the force he's using to fuck into me, nearly just along for the ride, holding on tight.

I try to last, but don't make it long before the threat of an orgasm builds again, low in my abdomen.

"I'm—" I whimper out, thighs tensing where they bracket him, before crashing into another orgasm.

It rips through my body, hard enough to hurt, every muscle feeling exhausted, weak. Zhongli's hips never slow. Instead, he fucks into me harder, even as I feel myself cry out, face wet from tears and saliva, digging my nails into his arm deep enough to draw blood.

"Please— please— Zhongli—" I whine, tapping his arm, begging for a moment of mercy.

"Pathetic." Zhongli sighs out from behind me, though, he slows his hips to a stop, holding my stomach as I fight to catch my breath.

I try to relax, fluttering around the length of his cock buried inside of me. I realize, sitting down, his lap is soaked. I must have—

"What a messy thing." Zhongli observes first, rocking his hips against me.

"I'm sorry." I whimper out, flexing my numb fingers, trying to get a handle on myself. "I keep— I— it hurts— it's— I'm sorry."

"We can stop." He says, voice finally soft. "If that's what you want."

I'm quick to shake my head, refusing to finish until he's cum, until I've pleased him. I lift my own hips, fighting the ache in my thighs to ride, rolling back into his lap.

Zhongli hums, pleased, pressing his lips to my shoulder. "Good girl." He breathes out. "That's why you're mine."

I nod, moans high, whined, fighting my own body to ride his cock. I move in rough, jerky motions, lifting as far out of his lap as I can manage, sure to drag the full length of his cock out until the head catches my entrance, then sink back down.

I'm encouraged by the noises that start to slip from Zhongli, low, exhaled moans that come in tandem with each bounce. I steady myself, arching my back to ride with as much fervor as I can muster, colliding with his lap as I bounce.

Zhongli's hands begin to tense, his moans more frequent, his stomach tight against my back. It's almost a relief when his hips snap up, colliding into my movement, his cock jerking to flood warmth low in my belly as he exhales a shuddered moan against my shoulder, throbbing inside of me.

Shaking, I lift to my knees, only for Zhongli to pull me right back into place.

"I'm not done with you." He says, voice steady. "You're staying right here. I'll use you again when I feel like it."

I whimper, nodding. I can feel myself throbbing, milking his cock that remains buried inside of me, the mess between us growing.

Zhongli settles back, one arm still looping my waist, the other reaching to his side, lifting the book he was reading earlier.

It's humiliating, crumbling back to lean into his chest, eyes barely staying open, watching as he occupies himself by reading, all while his softening cock is buried inside of me, twitching every time I clench. Though, the break is needed, pain from oversensitivity fading.

He doesn't let me rest much, occasionally pausing only to fuck up into me, his cock growing increasingly hard as the time ticks on, until he's fully erect, rocking against me again. Though, he doesn't seem to react to it, instead continuing to read even as he tilts his hips hard enough noises slip from my throat.

Zhongli holds, unmoving, unwavering, keeping me split open on his cock until I'm throbbing, arousal low in my abdomen demanding I be fucked again. I squirm in his lap, clenching down, desperate for him to react, hold my hips, take what's his.

Instead, he reads his book like he doesn't feel it, feel me pulsing around his cock buried inside of me, cum and slick dripping from my thighs, my stomach warm where he's filled me.

Every movement becomes torture, every breath forcing his cock to move inside of me, teasing in the way it drags along everything sensitive. He continues to let his hips twitch, fucking his cock up into me with no real intent other than to make me whimper.

I only make it so long before I break, tilting my own hips, carefully lifting my knees to bounce in his lap in short, careful motions.

Zhongli notices.

"Did I give you permission?" He asks, voice low, freezing me in place.

I whine, shaking my head.

"N-no—" I mumble out.

Zhongli sighs, lifting his hands, slowly, carefully marking his page and setting the book down. His arm wraps my legs under my knees, lifting and holding them to my chest. His other wraps my waist, holding me in place, then, he stands, still inside of me, carrying me to his bedroom.

He releases me onto his bed on my stomach, keeping his cock locked inside. He presses a hand to the center of my upper back, holding me in place, then finally shifts his hips, pulling his cock out. I whine, clenching on air, feeling the cum-slick mixture pulse from my abused pussy, drooling out, across my clit and out onto the sheets.

Zhongli lets out a low noise at the sight, pressing his hand firmly against my back, before finally stepping away.

I whine once out of contact with him, shifting to flip to my back, look at him carefully slipping out of his clothes. He peels them off, layer by layer, until he's nude, then finally comes back to pay me attention. I lift my knees, keeping my thighs held together, watching as he watches me.

"You need to learn to obey me—" He sighs as he approaches, landing his hands on my thighs, pulling them apart. "You can't get out of trouble just by spreading your legs open and being my whore, no matter how much favor it wins you."

He digs into the soft flesh with his fingers, glancing down between my legs as he slots his cock against my pussy, sliding against it. His fingers hook into the shirt I still have on, roughly jerking the fabric to tear it off my body, until we're both nude.

Zhongli's hips roll, dragging his cock along everything sensitive while he stares at me, a mess in his sheets, twisting my hands and panting, begging for more.

"No one wants a disobedient girl—" He sighs out, shifting his hands up to my hips and holding on tight. He tugs, dragging me down the sheets until my ass hangs over the edge of his bed. He stands between my thighs, leaning in toward me, holding my spread legs upright.

"I'm— sorry—" I choke out again. "I'm sorry, sir."

Zhongli inhales, slow, restrained, staring down at my face. He shifts his hips back, until just the tip of his cock is pressed to me. He moves his hand until he can wrap the base, guiding it lower between my legs until the head rests just at my entrance.

"Beg." He says, low.

I whimper, nodding, a repeated 'please' spilling from my mouth like breath. I rock my hips, feeling the head of his cock catch as it slides against my pussy, desperation taking over the way I lift my hips, until I'm begging with my body, too.

Zhongli slips into a pleased smile, watching me break beneath him, until his hands tighten on my body again, holding me in place.

"You're such a good girl when you listen." He praises, then finally shifts in, pushing his cock inside of me.

I gasp as I feel him enter, eyes rolling back, scrambling to wrap his hips with my legs. My hands lift to my chest, curling there.

I brace as Zhongli drags his cock out, just in time for him to snap his hips forward, fucking into me hard enough I drag up the sheets. There's no mercy in his pace, the snap of his hips rough, colliding into me as he grips my thighs, trying to hold me in place.

I moan with each thrust, pulsing in tandem with the drag of his cock inside of me. I know I look like a mess, but I'm not present enough to care, instead focused on panting through my breaths as he fucks himself into me, the sound of our skin connecting filling the room.

The drag of his cock is perfect, stimulating everything inside of me, keeping me stretched open. I keep moaning, desperate, held tilted back, barely present enough to watch Zhongli fuck himself into me through my lashes.

I have to tilt my chin back, guttural moans carving my throat, entire body pulling tight as Zhongli fucks me like it's nothing. An ache starts in my core, forcing me to grip harder on his cock. It's a familiar tension in my muscles, dragging me closer to an orgasm, his cock pounding against every sensitive spot.

"I'm— I can't—" I sigh out, turning my face into my shoulder through my whimpered moans.

"Already?" Zhongli asks, never slowing the roll of his hips. "Pathetic mewling thing—" He moans himself, guiding his hand to wrap my throat, loosely holding it, digging his other hand into my thigh.

I whimper through my moan, too embarrassed to look at him, the roll of an orgasm building low in my stomach, close enough to hurt.

"I'm—" I manage to whimper out, before cascading into an orgasm, pussy fluttering around the length of Zhongli's cock.

"So quick." He chastises, seemingly unaffected.

I can feel my body trembling with the effort, it takes to be fucked, constant mewled moans spilling from my throat. I feel messy, used, my hands curling against my chest as he continues to fuck into me. The drag of his cock overstimulates, my cum sensitive pussy making me desperate enough that my thighs fight to close, preserve what's between them.

Zhongli refuses it, dropping both hands to hold my thighs tight, keeping me spread.

"No." He chastises, breathless. "You'll take it until I'm done."

I mewl out, desperate, darting both of my hands down to hold his forearms, digging in with my nails, jerking my hips as his movement never stops.

"Please—" I beg, not even sure what I'm asking for at this point, shaking with the effort, head rolling back on my shoulders. "I'm sorry, sir— please— please— it hurts— I'm sorry—"

I look up to Zhongli, pleading with my eyes. It takes a moment, but his expression finally softens, his thrusts slowing until he's resting with his hips flush to my ass, I continue to tremble, clenching around his paused cock. I jump as his hand connects to my chest, his rough skin tenderly dragging down my ribs and abdomen.

He goes to my own hands, prying them from his arms, lifting them until they're above my head. He slots his hand against mine, threading our fingers together, squeezing tight. The motion grounds me, preparing me for when hips rock, gently stimulating me with his cock again.

"You can do it." Zhongli sighs out, rocking himself into me, carefully moving his hips. "Just keep taking my cock like my good girl." He squeezes my hand with his as he talks, tilting his hips back to drag the full length of his cock out of me before fucking it back in.

"You're perfect—" He praises, even as my eyes roll back, "Such a— such a good girl."

I warm under the praise, blinking up at Zhongli as I come back to my body, stretched open on his cock.

"I'm—" I mumble out, disoriented.

He holds me tighter, leaning in to catch my lips. He exhales against them before we meet, kissing me with an even pressure. I arch into it, heart thumping as I warm from the affection.

Zhongli pulls back, hovering his lips next to mine as he speaks.

"You can do it—" He breathes out. "That's my girl."

I tilt my head back, eyes fluttering shut as I relax against the mattress. The drag of his cock in and out of me continues, gentler than before. He rolls his hips against me, breathy moans of his own escaping, a relaxed look on his face.

Zhongli squeezes my hand tight, a grounding motion, before his hips speed, chasing. I lift my shaking legs, wrapping his hips and holding on for the ride, my lax body dragging up the sheets, until, finally, his thrusts lose rhythm again, stuttered movement matching the moaned noises from low in his throat. I watch his face, until his expression breaks, the surrender of ecstasy taking over. There's a catch in his breath, noises low in his throat all warning whats to come.

I flutter around his pulsing cock as it finally jerks, flooding my stomach, his hand holding mine tight enough to hurt.

He watches my face as he cums, looking relaxed, before coming down, meeting my lips with his hips resting flush to my ass. I'm kissed hard enough my head tilts back into the sheets, trembling body otherwise pliant in his hands. He handles me up the bed, to the center, carefully to stay inside of me. I sigh as he relaxes, pressing me into the mattress with his weight, coming down from the high as our bodies continue to rock together, no real chase for pleasure in the movement, just a desire for closeness.

"I'm proud—" Zhongli starts, pressing another kiss to my lips. "—so proud to call you mine."

I muster just enough energy to smile, lifting my hands to thread them into his hair and hold him against my lips a moment longer, before I fully collapse, exhausted.

Looking up at Zhongli, wrapped in his arms, I watch his face soften. The severity of his expression eases, tension melting from him, until he finally seems relaxed.

"I'm sorry." I mumble again, quiet. "I'm sorry for breaking the contract."

Zhongli smiles, soft, bringing a hand up to cup my face, running his thumb along my cheek.

"I forgive you." He says. "It was a mistake."

His hand lifts from my face, grabbing one of my hands at the wrist. He places it above my head, curling his fingers around the bracelet he gave me to signal our bond.

"If you choose to do it again... I won't hesitate to remind you that you belong to me." He says, pressing a kiss to the corner of my lips.

I nod, eyes barely open, body sinking into the exhaustion that envelops it, finally feeling settled with the spoken forgiveness.

I would never get drunk in the middle of the day.

—but, if it means getting punished like this...

I might repeat the mistake.

#genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin fic #genshin impact #genshin #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #zhongli x y/n #zhongli

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heisenberg-simp257 · 2 years

Note

Hello! Have a nice day! Could you please write something touching for Lord Heisenberg who accidentally made his highly sensitive beloved cry using the prompt #32 from the prompt list? Thank you so much!

Sure! I'll do my best!💖Sorry if it’s kind of short

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Pushed Over the Edge

You poke the bear hard enough and Heisenberg lets you have it.

#32 “Are you able to forgive me?”

Heisenberg was known to have a short temper. In fact, he was known to blow up at any given moment. This was one of the things about him that frightened you. He tried to control his temper around you, but sometimes he couldn’t stop himself from blowing up.

You should’ve known better than to push him after that meeting with Miranda.

It also didn’t help that you were a bit sensitive. Kind of ironic, that man with a short temper would be with someone who was highly sensitive. However, you guys were making it work. Heisenberg was yet to blow up on you.

Until that day.

He was already in a bad mood due to a failed experiment. Nothing seemed to be going right for Heisenberg that day. Then Mother Miranda calls in, saying she needs to speak to all the Lords ASAP. He left in a mood, and you knew he was going to come back in a mood.

“That. Fucking. BITCH.” Was the first thing you heard when he arrived back followed by the slamming of doors. Actually, it sounded like a lot of stuff was being broken.

This happened a lot when he threw his fits.

You could hear him yelling about Miranda, and the other Lords (mostly Lady Dimitrescu). Apparently, she had gotten on his nerves as well. Heisenberg had a short fuse she must’ve noticed and took advantage of it. However, most of his anger seemed to be directed towards Miranda.

“I can’t believe she had the fucking audacity to ask that of me!” He shouted while literally flipping a table. You flinched a bit, but slowly made your way towards the noise. With some hesitance, you opened the door.

“Ask...what of you?” You asked gently, not wanting to upset him further. Yep, the room was an absolute mess from his torment.

“None of your business.” He growled and you winced at the aggression. You knew you hit a nerve. So, why did you keep pressing?

“I just want to help.” You tried again, and this time, you saw him tense up completely. You stayed where you were, not knowing what he might do to you. However, he soon unclenched his fists.

“I don’t need your fucking help.” Heisenberg angrily said and you took a deep breath to calm yourself. He wasn’t mad at you, you tried to keep that thought in your head.

“But-” Your attempt to console him once more snapped him.

“Just get the fuck out!” Him nearly hitting you with a piece of flying metal was your breaking point. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying but tried your best to hide it in case that irritated him anymore.

“I-I’m sorry.” You started out before doing what he asked, and quickly fled. Heisenberg watched you leave, blood still boiling from what he had to listen to earlier.

However, after a few minutes, he began to realize what he did.

“Shit...” He muttered to himself while placing a hand to his face in distress. Heisenberg always tried to control his temper around you because he understood both how sensitive you were and that his anger frightened you.

Now, here he has gone and made you cry.

Heisenberg was literally the worst at apologies. Mostly because he’s never had to give them to anyone but you. I mean, he’s never been sorry for anything in his life. But he had to try, or else it will look like he meant what he said. So, he set about to find you.

Assuming you would actually forgive him.

It didn’t take long to find you. You were sitting outside, but still in the safety of the factory’s fence line. However, he could hear you crying from where he stood at the doors.

This was the one thing he was probably nervous for.

Walking towards you, he figured that if he could try to get you to smile or anything, he would be okay. He can’t lose you. That’s all he knows, and he’s hoping beyond hope that you will let him explain.

“It’s kind of cold out. You alright?” He asked with that smile as if nothing happened. You just looked over your shoulder at him with a frown on your face.

Speaking of faces, yours broke his heart.

It was red from the biting cold and covered in tears. Tears that he placed there. Heisenberg now felt it in his heart to make things better. Heck, he will do anything to see you smile at him again.

“Look, Y/N...,” Heisenberg walked towards you a bit before sitting beside you. It broke his heart a bit when you flinched, “I’m...this is never easy for me...I’m sorry.”

You looked over at him. Heisenberg looked like a mess, whether it be from his tantrum earlier or apologizing, you didn’t know. All you did know, was that he looked beyond guilty.

“Are you able to forgive me?” He then asked while handing you, well, it looked like some torn up weeds. Maybe there was a flower in there. Seriously, it looked like he just leaned over and tore up a clump of grass.

You started to giggle a bit.

“I’m trying to be sincere, and you’re laughing at me.” Heisenberg brought his hand back a bit, but you grabbed him by the wrist and took the vegetation from him.

“No. I’m just finding it adorable. Your way of apologizing.” You said while gesturing to the clump of whatever it was in your hands. For once, he looked flustered by your actions.

“But yes, I think I can forgive you.” You ceased your laughter and smiled for real. Heisenberg slowly smiled to himself before placing an arm around you, that smirk slowly growing on his face.

“Miranda wanted me to kill you.” He admitted after a while. You gave him a shocked look.

“She believed that you were a distraction to me, so she asked me to kill you. I wouldn’t have it. That’s why I was so mad earlier.” Heisenberg told you. Now you can understand why he didn’t want to tell you.

“Thanks for telling me. Sorry for trying to pry earlier.” You said while leaning into him after a strong gust of wind blew by.

“I’m sorry for yelling. Next time, I’ll go over to Moreau and take my frustration out on him.” He said with a smirk, and you slapped his chest.

“Be nice to him. He doesn’t know any better.” You said with a laugh, “But if you do, bring him some plants as an apology.”

“Hey now, those are some quality plants.” He defended his apology gift to you while helping you to your feet. You laughed as he laughed, shielding you from the breeze as the two of you went back inside.

It was good to have the old Heisenberg back. The one that laughs instead of yells.

Even if his laughter was directed at the mockery of others.

#resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil imagines #resident evil village imagines #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagine

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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

Text

In Need of a Breath

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4007

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo, Feelings, Another PTSD Flashback

A/N: So…Part 4 is going to have a couple parts to it. Maybe even three. I didn’t even make it half way through the episode on this one, mainly because I really wanted to fit in the Reader’s backstory and I wanted her and Sam to have a heart-to-heart again. I’m suuuuper tired, so I probably won’t be posting the next part for another few hours (it’s 5 am right now and I haven’t slept), BUT it’s my day off work and I won’t be doing anything I planned because my grandmother had a stroke a couple days ago so plans have changed and I’m staying in to help her, meaning I’ll mostly be writing all day.

This Part is kind of a mix between off-screen and shot-by-shots, but it’s mostly off screen/what’s going on inside Reader’s head.

I’m really excited about future parts and the characters that are being introduced! I will say that after these parts, I will be doing one shots of previous MCU movies with the Reader, due to the information that is being given about the Reader now. You kind of see more of how she was affected/how she affected the previous MCU movies and what she was doing during that time.

Like always, this hasn’t been beta’d, again it’s SUPER early in the morning, and I’m really tired, so please excuse any mistakes! I hope you guys enjoy this part! Stay tuned for more to come later today!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“You know…I’m really starting to regret saying yes to this.” You huffed out, craning your neck and squinting your eyes against the sun as you stare at the facility in front of you, hating the skin-crawling feeling of being back.

“Would you relax? Whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous, and I don’t wanna be nervous about this.” Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do either of you have a better plan?” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms.

Gnawing on your lips, you finally take the lead and breathe out, “alright. Let’s go then.” You could feel the hesitance from your - what were they? Partners? Coworkers? Teammates? - the fellas before they started after you.

There was a sick twist in your gut as you entered the building, going through the lobby and security.

You had been there.

You had been there when Zemo impersonated Bucky. You had been there when Zemo unleashed the Winter Soldier at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre Building in Berlin. You had been there during the battle at the airport. You had been there when Zemo turned Tony and Steve against each other in Siberia. You had been there when Zemo tore the Avengers from the inside out. Your family. The only family you’d ever known.

But you’d always been good about pushing your personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission. It’s what you’d been born to do. All you ever knew.

“Hey. Doll. You hear me?”

“Hmm. What?” You looked up from the ground to look into those enchanting blue oceans Bucky had for eyes, staring worriedly down at you, eyebrows pinched and forehead creased.

“I’m going in alone.” You frowned, opening your mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “Sam already agreed-”

“I didn’t necessarily agree-”

“You’re an Avenger, sweetheart.” Bucky tilted his head, speaking softly, those eyes of his worried. Worried for you. It made your stomach flip. “And you were there in Siberia, and that almost makes it worse. Especially considering you went after him. Just…just let me do this, okay?”

You cracked your knuckles nervously as you thought. It was a terrible idea. But it was an idea. And it was all they had. “Okay.” You finally relented, shrugging as your hands hit your thighs and slid up to your hips. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Steve took all that with him.”

Knowing about their little inside joke, you scoffed. “Sure he did. Go before I change my mind.”

You watched him walk down the hallway, hands fidgeting with excess nerves. “I think you’re the only one he actually seeks approval from.”

“Good thing I’m so lenient then, huh?” You joked, turning to Sam with a strained smile. Your smile slipped at the curious expression on Sam’s face, his eyes darting to each of your features. “What?”

“Are you doing okay?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. You thought you got out of talking about your feelings back in Baltimore. “Oh my God, Sam-”

“I’m serious. You…you just don’t seem like yourself.”

You shook your head, looking down the hall to where Bucky disappeared before turning back to him. It was weird to have a self that people recognized. Your whole life you’d been searching for it and when you finally found it…everything went to shit. “Honestly, Sammy, the only time I’ve ever felt like myself was with the team. Zemo took that away from me and now we’re here, practically begging him for help.”

Sam hummed, leaning against the wall. “Have you thought of taking a break?”

“What?”

“A break.” At your bewildered look, he rolled his eyes. “Cher, this time last year most of us were dead. This time a few months ago you found out about Wanda. This time last week you were out looking for her. Maybe you should just stop and take a breather.”

Shoving your hands in your pocket and looking at the floor, you couldn’t help but snort at his advice. “I haven’t taken a breather since I was eighteen.”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s my point. FBI academy as soon as you graduated. SHIELD recruit by 21, undercover operations leader by 24? Slow down. You’re in your thirties. Next thing you know, you’re gonna be ninety something, lying on your deathbed, wishing you had stopped to smell the roses.”

“If I live to be ninety, shoot me.” He chuckled in amusement. “I’m so fucking serious, Sam. I will not be put in an old folks home to play Bingo and be pushed around in a wheelchair. It ain’t happening.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” There was that infectious smile, which you unconsciously grinned back at. “Y/N…I’m serious. You’ve been in and out of missions since you were a teenager. What’s the shortest undercover operation you’ve done?”

“I dunno.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “Yeah you do.”

Licking your lips, you turned away and shrugged. “A couple months. Seven weeks and three days, to be precise. September to October in 2012.”

“And the longest?”

“August 2007 to May 2009. Twenty one months.”

Letting out a puff of air through his nose, Sam pushed himself off the wall and caught your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “That’s nearly two years under cover. And I’m sure you went right back under after-”

“I was sitting at a desk for four months doing paperwork on it.” You defended yourself.

He shook his head, brows knitting together, lips drawn down. “You say that as if four months is enough time.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Sammy. I’m out. I’ve been out since Ultron and Sokovia. I haven’t been under in almost a decade-”

“A decade half the world was dead for half of-”

“I wasn’t!”

“I never said you were.” Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. You were always amazed at his ability to keep his emotions in check. To stay cool under pressure. Sometimes you forgot how experienced he was with dealing with other people’s trauma. It was no wonder why Steve thought he’d be good for Bucky. “Listen. All I’m saying is once this is done…don’t go diving back into searching for Wanda. Don’t go running to the kid every time he calls - and I know you’ve been doing that-”

“It’s just been homework and stuff-”

“Y/N.” You stopped, biting your lip at the stern look he gave you. “Go home. Order take out. Binge watch TV. Go for a jog through the park. Actually meet your neighbors. Go grocery shopping. Just…live. If only for a couple weeks. Don’t worry about anyone else. Don’t pick up the phone, don’t drop everything because someone needs you. You need you.”

“I-I…” You shook your head, looking at him, sincerely apologetic. “I can’t. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’ve never had one normal day in my life. I’ve never had someone to care for, never had someone to care for me. I can’t let people I’ve come to…I can’t let them think I don’t care. I don’t even know where I’d go.”

“Whaddya mean?”

You winced, not thrilled for his reaction to your next statement. “I, uh, I sold my apartment in D.C.”

He gaped at you in complete disbelief. “You got it in December!”

“I know, I know. I liked it. I really did, but…I dunno. Nomadic life has always suited me better. It’s what I grew up with.”

He took a breath, making you cringe again. You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately gotten on his nerves like this before. “Have you ever thought that, instead of going with the flow and jumping place to place, putting down roots might actually help?” He cut you off before you could say anything, holding up a finger to stop you from talking. “I can’t imagine going from foster home to foster home like you did. I can’t imagine not having a home for as long as you can remember. Louisiana’s my home. Always has, always will be. But I understand your life has been anything but stable. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you need some stability.”

You clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. “The Avengers were my stability. Steve was my stability.”

“Because you loved him.”

“I’m not doing this with you again.” You turned to walk down to the lobby to wait for Bucky there, but Sam caught your arm.

“You were in love with him! It’s okay! You two were super close! No one would blame you! Why won’t you just admit it? I’m trying to understand! Why won’t you-”

You tugged your arm away, finally snapping at him. “Because he could never be mine, Wilson! Is that what you wanna hear?!” Sam took a step back at your exclamation. You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat and pushing down the tears. “He could preach all he wanted about moving forwards, Sammy, but we all knew he was stuck in the past. He visited the museum every Thursday because her interview showed in his exhibit on Thursdays. He carried around that broken compass because her picture was in it.” You looked back up at him sadly, shrugging. “And I get it; it’s hard to move past your first love. I get it because…that’s what he was to me.”

There was a silence that blanketed the hallway, before he spoke up hesitantly. “What about Bucky?”

“I thought - I thought I was projecting my feelings for Steve onto him because I knew Steve couldn’t ever…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You thought? What do you think now?”

You cleared your throat. “I’m still figuring that one out.”

“If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here.”

You chuckled, nodding slightly towards him. “Back atcha. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not being yourself lately, either.”

“It’s…a tough topic.”

You nodded in understanding. “Just know that I’ll support every decision you make as long as you think it’s the right one. Because I trust you. Steve trusted you. It’s all we can do to try to do what’s right. That’s what makes you a good man, Sammy. He gave you that shield for a reason, and if you think what you did was right…I’ll stand by it.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, calming down in each other’s presences and taking comfort knowing you’d be there for each other through thick and thin. “Thank you, cher.”

“Of course, Sammy. Now let’s go see what’s taking the old grump so long.”

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement, taking your offered hand and squeezing it as you made your way down the hall.

****************

“What?”

Bucky eyed you as you spluttered, coughing on the water you were drinking. “Please don’t choke, doll.”

“Break him out of jail?!” You repeated his words and blinked at him, absolutely baffled by his plan. “Oh my God.” You groaned as Bucky and Sam started arguing, moving your flashlight around the room. “Where the hell are we?” There was no response as they kept going back and forth.

“Zemo’s gonna mess with our minds! Especially yours! No offense.”

“Heelllloooo!” You tried again. “Where the hell are we?!”

Bucky turned on the lights, giving Sam a look. “Offense.” Glancing at you he quirked an eyebrow. “Stop worrying your pretty lil’ head, sweetheart. You trust me, dontcha?” Your breath hitched at his words. You quickly recovered, huffing and pouting - although you’d deny ever pouting - and crossing your arms. You stood between the guys like that, eyes darting to whoever was speaking, waiting for them to stop so you could actually think.

“Look. Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

You and Sam exchanged glances. “What did you do?”

“I…didn’t do…anything.” Bucky shrugged.

“How is it that you, one of the most deadliest assassins basically ever, are one of the worst liars I know.” You tilted your head at him, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

“Shush it you. Just, okay. The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element.”

The more you listened to Bucky’s “hypothetical”, the stronger the gut feeling telling you this was a terrible terrible idea got. You brought your hands up to your head, eyes wide as he spoke.

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural.”

You couldn’t help but agree with Sam’s words, your head falling back and your eyes closing. “Sweet Jesus. Listen, God, I know we don’t talk much these days, but please, please don’t let this not be a hypothetical. I’m fucking begging you.”

A noise to your right made your head snap over. “Oh hell to the fucking no!” You shook your head as Zemo himself walked in, wearing a prison guards uniform. “Uh-uh! No way! Bucky, this was not part of the plan!”

“What did you do?!”

“We need him!”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may-”

All three of you faced him, simultaneously shouting, “no!”

You held your face in your hands as your head dropped, shaking back and forth, your eyes squeezing shut, tuning them out for just a minute to think. Bucky had a point. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that, and the Avengers were technically disbanded, which was Zemo’s whole objective in the first place, but…God. You were good at compartmentalizing, but not that much. You were willing to put your feelings aside for the mission so Bucky could talk to him. Not for you to work with him. But he had connections, you knew he did, and he had information…

“Doll?” You looked up, Bucky anxiously licking his lips as he met your gaze. “I need you to say something.”

You looked to Sam, who shrugged, gesturing to Zemo. “What do you think?”

What did you think? What did you think?! You thought that it was the worst idea in the history of ideas and you should turn back and find another way! But…you knew this was the fastest, probably most reliable way to get information that you needed.

Dammit, since when were you the deciding factor?

You sucked in a breath, looking over Sam’s shoulder at Zemo, who lifted his hand in greeting. You raised your eyes to the ceiling, pointing your finger accusingly. “This is why we stopped talking.” Gaze dropping to the still waiting fellas, you gnawed on your lip, before hissing out, “ffffine…” Running a hand through your hair, you threw your hands up as you shrugged. “Fine. Okay. Fine.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, taking charge again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Except, that was a lie. You could. You’d seen weirder. You’d experienced the impossible. Lived through the unbelievable. This…this was completely imaginable.

Which is why, with a lot of hesitation and very little confidence in this plan, you followed Zemo through the auto shop you were in until you reached a large room with a ton of different old cars.

Bucky’s hand found yours as Zemo explained what the plan was, rather vaguely, in your opinion, but at least he was explaining. Point for him. Not that it would make up for the level of distrust you held for him, but it was something.

You looked up at him, giving him a puzzling frown. He usually only grabbed your hand in front of other people when he was feeling anxious. Which, yeah, he had a right to be anxious right now, but it wasn’t the right kind. The type of anxiety caused by large crowds and loud noises, ones that startled him and threw him into a defensive mode.

But the look on his face made you squeeze his hand in reassurance. He was pouting, staring at you although he did something wrong - a puppy that tore up a pillow - and all you wanted to do was give him a hug.

“You’re mad at me.” He mumbled as the four of you headed out with Zemo in the lead.

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are.

“Bucky, I’m not mad.”

“Listen, if I had a better idea I wouldn’t-”

You brought your linked hands up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his gloved knuckles. “I’m not mad.” You repeated more firmly. “It’s just…a lot for me, right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Buck, I-I just…” You thought about your and Sam’s earlier conversation and suddenly understood what he meant. “I need to breathe for a second.”

His features twisted into ones of uncertainty, eyes squinting as you stepped outside. “Do you…do you wanna leave?”

You shook your head, tugging his arm to stop him and grabbing the sunglasses on his collar, slipping them over his eyes. “No. I just need some time to think. Hopefully the plane ride to wherever the hell we’re going will give me that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, James. I’m sure.”

He lowered the glasses on his nose to scan you over the frames, before nodding and sliding them back up. “Okay. You ready for this, then?”

“No.” You breathed, turning back to where Zemo and Sam were still walking. “Let’s do this.”

*****************

Climbing onto the private jet, you raised an eyebrow at Sam, who shrugged, giving you a bemused expression. A Baron…huh…who knew? You feel like you should’ve, yet there you were.

You sat besides Bucky, across from Zemo, crossing your legs and leaning back while staring at him through narrowed eyes.

His butler seemed nice, which made you even more suspicious. You obviously didn’t know as much about Zemo as you wanted to. It was a habit you picked up after years of undercover work; once the mission was complete, that was that. There was no looking back on it. No sitting on it. It was over and you moved onto the next one. It was a bad habit in cases like this.

The moment you spotted the notebook over Zemo’s book you knew something was going to happen, yet you still flinched when Bucky lunged at him, grabbing his throat. You leaned back in your seat again, steadying your now racing heartbeat. You decided you were too tense, trying to relax your muscles as Bucky sat back down in his seat.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book.” Sam seemed so proud of himself that something he recommended was written in Steve’s little book and it made you smile.

You remembered that; Steve and you were supposed to meet up for coffee after his run, but Fury called him in so you rescheduled it for when he got back. He asked you about Marvin Gaye. For your opinion. You told him to check it out and make his own.

You remembered asking him about that little notebook of his, and he just shrugged you off telling you about his list. He would read items off to you, but he never let you read the book yourself. You never found out why, and you supposed you never would now. The thought made an ache behind your ribs that you’d come to familiarize yourself with appear.

You smiled a little more as Zemo and Sam told Bucky how awesome Marvin Gaye was. “C’mon, baby. Back me up.”

Chuckling, you looked at Bucky. “They’re not wrong. But,” you quickly added before Bucky could whine at you, facing Sam again. “Neither is Buck. I mean, c’mon. You can’t find music like the 40’s anymore. Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Fred Astaire. Ol’ Blue Eyes himself.”

“Thank you.” Bucky grinned at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay. But, I mean, c’mon! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

Your face fell as Zemo started talking about Steve and icons and Red Skull, your mind once again slipping away from reality.

“Kids love you.” You giggled as you finally made it out of his exhibit. You’d wanted to show it to him since he moved to D.C., and you’d finally got an opportunity after coming back from being undercover for ten weeks. “You’re their hero, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to do what’s right.”

You nudged him, scoffing at his answer. “You’re too humble. You’re a national icon, you know.”

Steve shrugged, looking around the museum at the planes surrounding them. “I never wanted to be.”

“Why not? Everyone loves you.”

“I’m sure not everyone loves me.” He rolled his eyes. “And…I just wanted to help. To fight. Protect my country and the people I cared about. I-I didn’t ask for…all that.” He waved behind his shoulder where his exhibit was getting smaller with each step they took away. “People were dying. Bullies were winning.”

You shook your head, spinning and walking backwards besides him to face him. “Sure, but you did that. And you became someone people could look up to in the process.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before asking, “why do you do what you do?”

“...because I’m good at it?”

“Honey.” He gave you a look. “Answer the question.”

You hummed in thought. “Because I couldn’t stand by, knowing there would be orphaned kids if I didn’t help any way I could.”

“Alright. Why do you do it in the dark?”

“Whaddya mean?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you come out and take credit for all the lives you’ve saved?”

“Because that’s not why I do it. I don’t want that attention. I just want to know I’ve helped people. I’ve kept them safe.”

He gave you a soft smile. “I just wanted to beat the bully. I never wanted to be a dancing monkey, too.” You looked at him in a new light then, understanding where he was coming from. “Watch out, honey!” He grabbed you and pulled you aside before you could crash into a wall, arms wrapped firmly around your waist. He gave you that charming smile of his. “Wouldn’t want you hurting that pretty lil’ head of yours, now would we?”

“Y/N!”

You snapped back into the conversation, moving your eyes from the window to Bucky, who tilted his head, eyebrows pinched and eyes narrowed. “Sorry. So, Madripoor. That’s a fun place.”

You ignored the side eyed glances Bucky and Sam exchanged, Sam turning to you curiously. “You’ve been?”

“Once. Back in 2010 for a few months”

Zemo raised his eyebrows. “You’re lucky to have gotten out.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Lucky, maybe. Skills were a part of it, too, though.”

“Good.” Zemo nodded. “Because we’re going undercover…and if we blow it. We’re dead.”

You breathed out, shaking your memory away and getting your head back into the game. Because like the man you were severely wary of in front of you said, if you blew this, you were dead. And, sure, you didn’t want to live until ninety, but you weren’t even half way there yet. So dammit if you were going to die soon.

“Hey.” You looked over at Bucky’s murmur, his head tilting as he grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you okay? You know you’re going to have to be-”

“I know.” He nodded. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “I’ll be fine. Just…tell me right now if you need to step out for this one.”

You gave him a smile that you knew he didn’t buy, just by the slight narrowing of his eye, his lips pressing together. “No. No, I’m good for this. If you think I’m gonna let you two idiots go into Madripoor with him - alone - oil that cyborg brain of yours, because there’s no way.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes still filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“If there’s even a slight possibility that I can protect you, then yeah. I’m sure, Buckaroo.”

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quillsandtypos · 3 years

Text

The Edge in Revenge

Words: 3k

Warnings: smut, degradation, female oral receiving, sexual edging, and underage drinking mentioned (NO SEASON 2 SPOILERS, I just started watching season one but I needed to get this out of my head)

Pairings: JJ Maybanks x fem!reader

...........................................

JJ really shouldn’t have been the one to underestimate what you were capable of doing in the name of revenge. He’d been fucking with you all day. It had started that morning, you were alone in his kitchen as the other Pogue’s were still asleep. He had you pinned up against the wall lightly sucking on the side of your neck. As he trailed down to your collarbone he suddenly pulled away. You furrowed your brows at him but he just winked and smirked before he walked away; leaving you wet and confused.

Then later after lunch he managed to get you alone before you and the other pogue’s went out on the water. You were still inside grabbing the cooler, as everyone else was already on the boat. He snuck up behind you unbeknownst to you. You felt his hot breath on his ear. “You need help with that princess?” he asked cockily. You felt his warm cock press against the back of your ass, and his hand was at the small of your back.

“Oh definitely,” you responded eagerly. You turned to him as he easily pulled you in with one arm around your back, and the other at the back of your neck. Your lips interlocked, and you hungrily kissed him back, almost begging for more. But just as the time before, he quickly pulled back. Grabbing the cooler from behind you and heading out the door. With a ‘thanks!’ and a barely contained giggle. Oh he was a dead man, you decided right then that revenge was most definitely an order.

So you came up with the perfect scheme. If he wanted to play that game, then he would quickly learn who he was quite literally playing with.

“Ki,” you said. You quickly pulled her away from the boys. “I need a favor, I need you to get JB and Pope away from JJ.”

“Do I even want to know?” she laughed.

“It’s in the name of revenge,” you offered hopefully. She let out a long fake sigh.

“Hmm, let me think,” she took a long pause.

She cracked a smile. “I’m just kidding, you should’ve started with the revenge part.”

“Yes! Thank you,” you said, hugging her tightly.

“Come on JB, we’re gonna go help Pope with whatever he’s doing in the kitchen,” she said, pulling him along.

“What? Oh, okay,” John agreed confusedly as he awkwardly followed her.

And so then there were two. You casually flopped yourself down on JJ’s lap, who seemed slightly startled at first, but then just wrapped his arms around your waist. As much as it was a sweet gesture, you didn’t sit there to be sweet, so you needed to ruin the moment. Lightly, you rolled your hips back so you went right across his dick, and then rolled forward, making sure to move slowly but applying a small amount of your body weight as pressure. You weren’t certain he was giving you a look that could kill, but you didn’t bother looking. But what you did do was speed up a little bit until you felt his dick grow hard.

Smiling a smug grin you moved to get off of him. But his arms helds you there. He swiftly pulled you down onto his chest so your right ear was directly next to his mouth. “When we are alone next, I’m gonna fuck you till you’re screaming,” he whispered lowly.

You adjusted your head so you could see his face. “As if you could ever have that effect on me,” you smirked.

“Care to up the stakes then? Or are you too chicken?” His eyes gleamed, and at the same time so did your’s.

“Name your price,” you said confidently.

“If I can get you to beg, then you owe me a six pack of beers.”

“That’s it?” you asked, surprised.

He raised his eyebrows, “Fine, a six pack of beers, and you have to go skinny dipping with me next Friday night.”

“But I have to work next Friday,” you suddenly remembered.

“What? Not feelin so cocky now princess? Afraid you’ll lose?” he taunted.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Of course not. So what do I get if I can make you beg?” You poked him in the chest for emphasis.

“Alright, if you win, then you get me as your personal boat driver, or person who gets you things, or whatever,” he offered.

“You sure that’s quite a high bargain JJ?” you now taunted back.

“Yeah, I’m not worried,” he replied cockily. He offered you his hand to shake and you took it.

“Prepare to be my personal maid,” you said.

“You better prepare to beg,” he countered.

You moved off of him just as your friends came out of the kitchen. “You guys wanna come with, we’re going for a night swim?” Johnny B offered.

“Nah, we might be out later though,” JJ answered before you could.

“Suit yourselves,” Pope shrugged. Kiera sent you a wink before also heading out the door with them.

JJ and you practically booked it to his room as soon as they shut the door. You quickly grabbed a condom from his drawer where you knew them to be by memory. You turned to throw him the condom to see that he was already on his bed with his shirt off. Every piece of your body was drawn to his chest and the way his back muscles looked in the low light, but you weren’t going to let him know that. So you deflected.

“Someone’s eager,” you commented.

“I-” JJ started to defend himself but the comment got stuck in his throat as he watched your movements. You began slipping your shirt off to reveal a black bra that was sheer, and lacy around the straps and underwire area. It pushed your boobs up nicely and accentuated your cleavage perfectly. JJ was a mess.

“This is so not fair,” he groaned, his jaw practically on the floor.

You knew the effect the lingerie would have on him, which is exactly why you picked it. “What? You too chicken J?” you said, using his taunt from earlier.

Your words made him recover quickly. “No, of course not,” he scoffed.

“That's what I thought you’d say,” you smirked. Now you let your jean shorts fall to the floor, so you were able to show your black thong, which was not as fancy looking, but you knew it would practically make JJ lose it.

You were right, he looked like you had placed him under a spell. When he finally snapped out of it, he pointed next to him. “Bed princess. Now.”

He was almost making this too easy. “I don’t know about that. How about please?”

JJ nearly opened his mouth, but quickly caught himself before he could say anything. “Fine, I’ll do it myself,” he smirked. He moved off the bed, to grab you. You tried to avoid his hands, but there wasn’t much room to run around, so he easily caught you. He threw you onto his bed, and you let out a small yelp of surprise. Before you could even think about running off again, he jumped on the bed, flipped you onto your back, and pinned you. His knees were on your hands, effectively keeping you from touching him.

“Are you going to be a good slut and scream for me?” he asked. His face a few inches from yours.

“Not a chance J,” you smiled.

“Have it your way then, but either way, you’ll still be moaning my name.” His arms lowered so he could dip down to kiss a couple inches above your collarbone. His knees still held your hands in place. He sucked hard against your skin, making sure to leave marks.

“Wait, no marks JJ,” you told him.

“Should’ve told me that sooner now everyone’s gonna know that you lost a bet,” he teased.

“In your dreams,” you scoffed.

JJ didn’t have a comment on that, but went back to work leaving you many bruises that you would have to cover the next morning. Oh how you wished your hands could be in his hair at the moment. He made an agonizingly slow trail down to your bra, before removing it and throwing it onto the floor of his room. He then started sucking on one of your breasts letting his lower lip just gently brush against your nipple everytime he sucked above it. He had found out about the spot driving you crazy the first time you had sex, and now you were strongly wishing you had never told him.

You had your mouth clenched rather tightly so that no moans would escape your lips. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend noticed that.

“Come on y/n, just let it out. You know that no one can make you cum like I do,” he taunted.

Luckily, his temporary break gave you a chance to get control of yourself again. “Fuck off,” you retorted.

“Yeah, that was kinda the plan.” He grinned devilishly.

He must’ve realized that he was not going to get you to break by doing that, and instead moved farther down to pull your panties off.

His head ducked down to your pussy, but he made eye contact just as he did so. “You still feeling cocky?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Alright, then let’s see how long that lasts since you’re such a slut for me,” he said with a wink before ducking his head fully down. He sucked another hickey on the inside of your thigh, and he slowly started licking towards your pussy. You could practically feel his tongue against your clit, but he was taking his sweet time.

“Stop teasing,” you finally groaned out.

“Is that begging I hear?” he questioned.

“No, I’m telling,” you said matter of factly.

“Yes ma’am,” he agreed with a chuckle.

His tongue slowly started lapping across your folds, occasionally flicking along your clit. Oh god you were in heaven, but simultaneously in hell because you couldn’t make a peep. His tongue once again licked across your spot, and you had to slap your hands over your mouth to keep a moan from escaping your lips. You could feel the smirk on his lips, but you weren’t going to let him have the satisfaction of knowing how much he was affecting you.

A few whimpers nearly came out of your body, and your hands were nearly shaking from trying to hold it in. But all of a sudden you realized that letting it out may be to your advantage, hearing your noises of pleasure, always had quite the effect on him.

So you did. Every moan, and whimper you let him hear. He thought that he was getting to you, which truthfully he was, but the game was far from over.

“You’re eating me out so good,” you moaned.

Your plan was already working; you noticed that he started to pick up the pace.

“Oh god JJ!” you screamed as he licked over a good spot on your pussy.

He continued licking in that exact spot which almost made you want to give up the bet right then in there. You felt shivers go through your spine as your core started to heat up but you were too stubborn to lose yet.

“No one fucks me like you do,” you moaned, knowing damn well the effect it would have on him.

Your plan seemed to have worked as he quickly took off his shorts, put on the condom, and just as his cock was about to enter you, you stopped him.

“Beg,” you insisted.

“Y/n fucking pl-” You had nearly had him, but he managed to stop himself before the words tumbled out.

You smirked, as he finally realized what you were doing. He however was now hell bent on making you lose. JJ climbed back on top of you with new vigor. “You’re smart, which is exactly why breaking you will be so much more fun,” he taunted. His head went back down again.

Your hands entangled in his hair as he went back to licking every single nook and cranny that he could find. “Fuck,” you whimpered as he once again licked your even more sensitive clit. You could feel the tension burning in your core, and a tingling sensation starting to spread all over. You started to buck your hips from the stimulation, and JJ was quick to force you back down. As his flicking became more rapid, you felt your body start to tense up.

“JJ I’m gonna-” you had started, but suddenly he had stopped.

“Beg,” he told you. And as much as you wanted to give in you were determined to knock the cocky grin off his face.

You sat up on your elbows. “Make me.”

JJ looked delighted by your answer. “That’s fine I got all night.”

“Inside me JJ,” you told him. You knew he wanted to make you beg for that as well, but you knew that he wanted to be inside you more.

He thrusted his cock into you and you did your best not to slide backwards from him pushing into you. “Oh my god you’re so wet for me, you really have been waiting.”

After he had checked on you he began slowly thrusting into you, going deep into you. “Oh shit,” he moaned. He would have to explain a lot of scratches across his back tomorrow but quite frankly you didn’t care.

“JJ!” you half moaned, half screamed as he went down again.

“You’re such a dirty slut for me aren’t you?” he taunted you.

You wanted to have some sort of retort but all that came out of your mouth was another moan, which just egged him on more.

“Come on, I know you’re tempted.”

Truthfully, you were extremely tempted, but you could surely outlast him right? But then you had an idea, he couldn’t stop it if he didn’t know what was coming. So as you felt your body starting to be strung out again you did you best to keep your breathing the same, and to not move around as much. But just as you felt the tension building he stopped.

“JJ?” you groaned in confusion.

“You seriously don’t think I don’t know when you’re going to have an orgasm?” he laughed. He pushed his hair out of his face and grinned down at you.

“Y/n you might as well just give up now, and spare yourself,” he suggested.

Collecting what small amount of strength you had left you said “Not a chance.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he smirked.

The warning was evidently very necessary, your whole body was starting to feel ten times more sensitive than it usually did. Every thrust sent a wave of pleasant goosebumps through your body. Your legs were shaking, and your voice was admittedly starting to go away. Your body felt like it was screaming that it wanted to orgasm. He started to slow down, but you were so close. You attempted to buck your hips into his to get the feeling back but he held you down. With a satisfactory grin on his face, that you needed it so bad.

“You’re not getting an orgasm unless you beg and we both know that I could fuck you for hours,” he taunted.

“Fine, fine, fine, please, please, please let me cum J, please. I am begging you,” you whined.

“That’s all you had to say princess,” he smirked. Finally his pace picked back up, to a more rapid one.

“Fuck you feel so good,” you moaned to him. There was no point keeping it in now. Your hips bucked in rhythm with his, as he moved in and out. But his rhythm slowed down as what you recognized as his climax.

“Oh god,” you heard him say as it finally hit him. His moans of pleasure only sped up your’s. “Fuck,” he moaned on top of you. But he managed to push himself back up to go down into you a couple more times for you to reach your climax.

Your whole body felt like it was on fire with tingles. The feeling spread from your stomach to your breasts to throughout your whole body. Your legs began to shake and you couldn't form words anymore. The only coherent thought you could form was how good you felt. Even after you had reached your climax, you had a sense of euphoria that you just couldn’t shake.

Eventually, you felt JJ start to move out of you, and you both whimpered slightly from how sensitive you were. You saw him take the condom off and throw it away. You lay in bed, still breathing heavily.

“Give me your hand, we’re going to the bathroom,” he said sweetly, but insistently. You groaned but you didn’t protest.

After you had used the toilet, you both flopped back down in his bed. It was quiet for a couple minutes before JJ spoke up.

“You know I’m really excited to see what beers you get me,” he teased.

“Shut up,” you laughed, lightly smacking him in the arm.

He lightly smacked you back. “Oh and don’t forget to call off for Friday tomorrow morning,” he grinned.

“I hate you,” you said as you rolled over.

“I love you,” he said sweetly, as he wrapped his arms around your midsection.

He always had a way of making you happy. “Love you too J,”

“Goodnight princess,” he said as he kissed your cheek.

“Goodnight JJ.” And you quickly fell fast asleep in his arms.

Needless to say, the other pogue’s weren’t worried that you never came outside. They knew where they would find the two of you the next morning.

684 notes · View notes

victoria-daydreams · 2 years

Text

Sparring Session

The Pickpocket

AN: I was finally able to see The King’s Man and....it wasn’t what I expected. Quite darker than I thought it would be compared to the first two, but I enjoyed it. On the flip side, we got this amazing gif and the plot bunnies began forming in my head.

I don’t know if I will make this series, but for now here’s my random one shot.

Word Count: 1.7k

Trigger Warning: none

June Hensley stood in the brightly lit and almost empty training hall of Orlando Oxford’s manor. Half of the large room was bare except for the mats on the floor, the dumbbell racks, and various types of weapons hanging on the wall. A weapon which June currently held in her grasp. She sprang forward, aiming the knife at her opponent’s chest. Effortlessly, he blocked her blow and curved it, making the dagger point back towards her.

"Sloppy," he commented dryly, in thick Scottish accent.

"Shut up," June replied, snatching the handle of dagger from his fingers.

June had spent many evenings sparring with Archie on the gym mats, he was always challenging her to throw him over her shoulder.

“Now, now, no need to get testy,” he began, a ghost of a grin on his face. "I wonder what could be the caus–" he stopped abruptly, deflecting a kick from her.

“I’m looking right at it,” June said, as Archie dodged another swing from her.

“That’s a shame,” he answered, clearly amused before catching her hand in his.

Glaring, June used all her strength and tried pushing the dull training knife into his chest using both of her hands. With ease, Archie disarmed her and threw the blade on the ground while keeping his hold on her hand. He flipped June around so that her back was pressing against his hard chest.

He moved his lips to her ear, “Irritation, it makes your moves predictable,” he remarked, his breath giving her goosebumps.

There it was again, the persistent flutter in her stomach, always triggered by her proximity to Archie. His left hand curled itself around her waist, keeping her in that position longer than necessary. Both of their breathing was labored and Archie’s eyes scanned over her, still looking at June with thinly veiled amusement.

"Time for a break?" he offered, releasing her from his grip and she whirled around to face him.

As soon as he asked the question, his mouth curved into a smirk, his lips shining slightly from the lights reflecting off of them. June huffed at him, insulted.

“It’s hard to concentrate when I’m fighting someone who’s half naked,” June said in exasperation, gesturing to him.

“Oh,” Archie began, resting his hands on his hips.“You find my body distracting?” he asked, a cocky grin on his lips.

“Oh please, do not flatter yourself,” June answered flatly.

However, she couldn’t help but let her dark brown eyes trail down Archie’s body, a sheen of sweat covered his toned chest and abs. She swallowed dryly.

“Damn, he looks amazing,” she thought.

Archie loudly cleared his throat snapping June from her thoughts. She lifted her eyes back to his and Archie’s cocky grin had only grown wider; June was obviously admiring his figure. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of admitting that. Suddenly, June jabbed forward with her right hand, just barely managing to graze Archie’s chin before he nimbly jumped back.

“Ah, there’s those quick hands I’m familiar with,” he remarked, blocking her next strike.

June lunged for him again and this time, not only did he avoid her strike, he clipped her foot. The unexpected nature of the move caught her off guard, so much so, that June hit the mat with an echoing thud.

"Oof!" she grunted.

June found herself staring up at the same high ceiling of the training hall. Once again, her back was lying flat against the training mat, with no air in her lungs. She mentally cursed to herself, for this seemed like the hundredth time that this had happened today. Archie used the moment to his advantage and straddled her.

“I win!” he said triumphantly, his blue eyes shining brightly. “Do you yield, June?” he added, brushing her ebony locks of hair off her cheek which had become loose from her pinned up waves.

She stuck her chin out defiantly.

“No!”

Immediately, June swatted his hand from her face and flipped their positions; now she was the one straddling his waist. Grabbing the discarded knife from beside her, she pressed it against his neck with a triumphant smirk on her face.

“Funny, from my position it looks like, I win,” June quipped, beaming proudly.

A sigh left him, “Sometimes, I regret being the one that recruited you, pickpocket,” Archie said, his demeanor playful.

“You mean, you regret how long it took you to find me after I borrowed some money from you,” she corrected, with a chuckle.

“That is a funny way of saying stealing,”

“Hmm, semantics,”

He shook his head and a smile broke onto his face, causing a giggle to escape June. Without warning, Archie snapped his hips up with enough force to knock June off balance and cause her to yelp. He was on top of her once more, but this time he pinned her arms above her head.

“June, I’ll have you know I have the stamina to keep putting you on your back, as long as I need to,” he informed, flashing a roguish smile.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Archie,”

He chuckled warmly and moved closer to her, their noses brushing against each other. Until finally his forehead rested against hers. For a moment they were silent, their breaths mingling and soaking in each other’s presence. Leaning down towards her, June soon felt the familiar press of his soft lips against hers. Warmth immediately spread throughout her body at the contact and she smiled gently into the kiss. The tips of Archie’s fingers slowly ran down her arms, the sensation made her arm hairs stand straight up.

The Scotsman’s hands came to a rest on her face, his palms curving over her cheeks while his thumbs caressed the contour of her cheekbones. With her arms no longer pinned, June let them dangle around over his neck, one threaded in his hair, the other curled around his neck, stroking Archie’s smooth skin as though she depended on it.

“Your so bloody beautiful,” Archie breathed.

He tucked his face into the crook of her neck, peppering kisses along the slender column and suckling her earlobe as he went.

June’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes fluttered shut, letting the feeling of his lips against her skin consume her. The thin hairs of Archie’s mustache scraped lightly against her as his mouth trailed back up to hers, placing kisses everywhere as he found his way back to her lips. Soft kisses slowly grew into greedier, open mouthed kisses and unconsciously her leg latched itself around his waist. In response, Archie’s hand promptly curved around her thigh, clutching her to him.

June could sense how much he wanted her through the cloth barrier that separated them. She wanted him as well, displaying just how much by grinding gently against him. The groan that came from him vibrated through her chest, deepening their kiss. A quiet moan slipped from her as she dragged her palms down his body. Her fingers glided against the soft flesh until she felt the hard muscles of his abdomen.

“Archie, pray tell what move you are demonstrating to Miss Hensley?”

June and Archie broke off their kiss, startled by Orlando’s voice suddenly reverberating through the room. Archie separated himself from June quickly and stood up. June followed suit, righting herself as her face burned with embarrassment. It burned hotter when she realized Polly was standing behind Orlando quietly laughing at their predicament.

“Your Grace, I was simply showing Miss Hensley a move to…er, get out of tight situations,” Archie said, glancing over at June.

“‘Tight situations’, is that what you kids are calling it nowadays?” Polly teased, mirth brimming in her eyes.

The older man smirked, blue eyes twinkling at the two agents.

“Well, next time you feel the need to give lesson on ‘tight situations’, make sure it’s reserved to the right room,” Orlando began, stepping into the room. “Namely, the bedroom,” he suggested, staring pointedly at them.

“Gladly sir,” Archie said, his lips curling into another smirk.

“Archie!” June hissed, lightly hitting his arm.

“Resume your training Lancelot. And Tristan,” Orlando called, turning to leave the room.

“Yes sir?” June answered, feeling her face beginning to cool a little.

“Don’t let Lancelot here, put you in another ‘tight situation’,” Orlando said, interlocking his hands behind his back. “We don’t need any mini knights running around here just yet,” he added.

June felt like her body had just been tossed into a furnace.

“R-right sir,” she stammered.

“Dare I say it, but, as you were,” Orlando dismissed, and walked away with Polly following behind, not before she shot them one last knowing look.

A pair of strong arms weaved themselves around June’s waist, causing her lips to curve upwards.

She shook her head, “Oh my days, that was humiliating,” she said, feeling Archie rest his chin on her shoulder.

He chuckled in response, “I think you’re over exaggerating just a little,” he said, as she placed her hands on top of his.

“Have you no shame?”

“No,”

An airy laugh bubbled from June and she turned to look at the dark haired man behind her.

“You’re incorrigible,” she joked, as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Oh no, Orlando’s words have got me thinking,” Archie began, staring down at her. “Would it be so bad to have little Lancelot’s and Tristan’s running around?” he questioned.

“Archie, Polly and Orlando are barely down the hallway,” she reminded, laughing softly.

“Does it really matter love, they just walked in on us,” he replied, spinning her around in his arms.

“Not the point,” June chuckled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Archie,” she sighed. “I barely began my career as a Kingsman agent, children are the last thing on my mind now,” she explained.

“I understand,” he replied, nodding his head. “Please don’t think I’m trying to pressure you June,” he said.

“You’re not,”

“Good,”

“However,” June began, a mischievous expression forming on her face. “I could use a review on your technique on how to get out of tight situations,” she said, now standing on her tip toes. “My flat, six o’clock,” she whispered into his ear, before pulling back from him and unwinding her arms from his neck.

June sauntered away from Archie to go freshen up, a proud smirk plastered on her face.

“My God, you are magnificent woman,”

#the kingsman fanfiction #kingsman fanfiction #archie reid #the king's man fanfiction #kingsman x reader #kingsman x oc #archie reid x oc #black!reader #black!oc #black fanfiction #the king’s man imagine #kingsman imagine #lancelot #lancelot x reader #kingsman secret service #archie reid x reader

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alcinadimitrescuwu · 3 years

Text

The Portrait (An Alcina x Maiden Fanfic)

You walk into the Atelier and find yourself once again gazing at the portrait of the Lady of the Castle, Lady Dimitrescu. She must have commissioned the portrait when she was younger because she looked like she was in her mid-20’s. She stands in an ivory-colored dress with a full skirt, holding a glass of wine. Her face is clear of her laugh lines, under-eye circles, and wrinkles but she is still as elegant and beautiful as ever. You move closer to get a better look and suddenly wonder who might have painted this portrait. Were they close to Lady Dimitrescu?

“Do you like it?”

You whirl around swiftly and find yourself face to face with Alcina Dimitrescu. The corner of her mouth quirks up in an amused grin, making her laugh lines indent into her cheekbones. Her golden eyes are glittering with mischief.

“Well?” she prompts.

You come back to yourself. “I-It’s lovely, my Lady,” you stammer. “Did you commission someone to make it for you?”

Alcina lets out a laugh like tinkling bells. “Why, yes. In fact you could say that the two of us were rather close.” She steps closer to you and the portrait, a knowing smirk on her face. “It was actually me that painted that portrait.”

“You?” you blurt out suddenly. Then you realize how rude you must sound. "Forgive me, my Lady,” you say, ducking your head in apology. “I meant no disrespect. I just didn’t know you were the artistic type.”

“Oh, I’ve dabbled in a lot of different art forms in my life, pet,” she says, and you see her eyes mist over as she reminisces. “I was classically trained in opera, I’ve painted landscapes and portraits, written poetry...I even was a jazz singer for a time. I made that portrait when I was 25. I was a very different woman than the one you see now.” She smiles self-deprecatingly. “Well, aside from the obvious, anyway.”

“It’s exquisite,” you breathe as you lean your head to get a better look at the portrait. You think of something and turn to her. “Do you still paint, my Lady?”

“Lately I’ve taken to sketching. And now that you know my secret,” she says, giving you a conspiratorial wink. “Perhaps I might come in here and do my sketching while you clean.”

You suddenly remember the actual purpose of why you came to this room in the first place. “Right! I need to polish the bells! I’ll just get started on that, then!”

You hear her chuckle low in her throat as you scramble up the ladder, taking out your polish. You look over back at her and she has sat down on the sofa, slipping a pair of pearl chain half-moon spectacles over her nose. She takes out her pens and charcoal, flips to a new page in her sketchbook and bends her dark head down to work.

Soon you and Alcina have a little arrangement going where every time you enter the Atelier to work on your tasks, you know you will soon see Alcina ducking her head under the lintel to work on her sketching. While you are on the ladder, you sneak glances at her every so often. Her lashes kiss the tips of her cheekbones and her brow is furrowed in concentration. Sometimes you will look from her to the portrait and you conclude that if possible, her aging has made her even more beautiful.

You feel a hand on your back and jump making the ladder wobble slightly. The hand braces you against the ladder so you don’t fall and you hear a soft chuckle behind you. “I’m sorry, dear. I suppose I should have announced my presence beforehand. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s not a problem,” you say and you feel color flood your cheeks as you see you are truly face to face with Alcina Dimitrescu. Her face is merely inches from yours. Her golden eyes catch the light from the chandelier and up close you see they are not just golden but with hints of silver around the iris.

“There’s this spot around the gears that doesn’t get enough attention that I’d like to show you,” Alcina hands hover around your waist. “May I?”

You nod your consent and she gently moves you on the ladder until you’re on the other side. She bends down and whispers in your ear. “Just between the cog and the gear. Do you see it?” The smell of her perfume is intoxicating. You nod that you understand and she smiles. “Good! I know you always do a thorough job and I wanted to bring that to your attention.” With that she settles back down and resumes her sketching.

This goes on for a while, you working while Alcina is sketching. Occasionally she will take a break and stand nearby observing you as you work. You find it difficult to concentrate when she is around but she eventually smiles to herself saying, “Yes. Very good,” before returning to her seat. A couple times you are not certain but you think you might have seen a flush creep up her cheekbones before she resumes her sketching.

A couple of weeks of this go by and you notice Alcina is not satisfied with the progress of her drawing. You see that she is erasing more often and often starts from a completely new page in her sketchbook. “No, no, this isn’t right!” you hear her say aloud one day. You chance a look at her as you are on the ladder polishing the candlesticks. She is furiously scribbling on the sketchpad and when a loose lock of her ebony hair falls into her eyes, she pushes it impatiently away. You try to lean down further to get a better look. You’ve seen how talented she is, surely the sketch couldn’t be that bad…

Suddenly you feel the ladder twist from under you as you lose your balance. Your arms pinwheel helplessly in the air as you try to regain your footing but to no avail. You shut your eyes tight as you fall, hoping at the most you’ll just sprain an ankle.

Instead of the hard floor, you fall into something soft. You open your eyes and jolt back as you see Alcina’s aureate eyes staring back into yours. She chuckles. “It appears I cannot do much but startle you these days it seems.” She looks at you with a concerned expression. “Are you all right, dear?”

“Yes, my Lady, I’m fine,” you mumble. You blush scarlet as you are very aware that her gloved hand is on your upper thigh, your skirt riding up in her haste to catch you. She becomes aware of this too and smoothes your skirt down, murmuring an apology, but not before you catch the blush in her cheeks.

She turns her head quickly away to hide it, her hat covering her profile. “Would you like to take a moment and rest, dear? You’ve been working so hard, you deserve a break.”

You nod soundlessly and she takes you over to the sofa where she has been doing her sketching. She closes her sketchbook with a snap before you can get a good look at it.

A maid arrives with Alcina’s afternoon tea. “Set out an extra cup for Y/N, if you please,” she commands the parlor maid. The maid nods and pours you both cups of steaming apple cinnamon tea, perfect for a cold winter’s day.

When the maid bows and leaves, you turn to Lady Dimitrescu. You clear your throat. “Um, my Lady?”

She smiles at you over her teacup. “Yes, pet?”

You can’t help it. You’re positively burning with curiosity at this point. “What have you been drawing?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Alcina’s cheekbones flood with color. “Oh, it’s nothing special really,” she says hurriedly. “Just some scribbles.”

You can hardly believe it. Was Lady Dimitrescu, usually so full of pride and grace, embarrassed? You see a scrap of paper on the ground near the sofa and pick it up. Alcina tries to stop you but you’ve already turned it over in your hands. You let out a little gasp of surprise as you see what Alcina has been drawing all this time.

There on the paper is a charcoal drawing of you polishing the bells. In the corner of the page is a closeup of you, your face shining in the chandelier light.

You look back at her, your mouth open in shock. When you finally gain the ability to form words, you ask, “Is this what you’ve been working on all this time, my Lady?” you ask quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Alcina nods and opens her sketchbook to show even more pages of you. You staring at her portrait, you reaching up on your toes on the ladder to dust off a high shelf, you pouring her tea. There are pages upon pages of your likeness.

Alcina turns her head to face you. “I must confess that I had been in need of a new muse for my art,” she says. “When I saw you gazing at my portrait, something stirred within me. There is something about you that draws me to you.” She takes your chin gently in her gloved hand.

“Your hair,” she says, and she takes off your cap and settles your unbound hair about your shoulders. “Even pinned under your cap, it cannot conceal its beauty.” She takes your hand in hers. “Your skin,” she murmurs, pressing her lips to the back of your hand, making you feel a pleasant shiver go down your arm. “How it shines under the lamplight. Your eyes.” She is moving ever closer. “The way I could get lost in those fathomless depths. And your lips…”

Her face is so close to yours now, her lips parted. “What about my lips?” you whisper, scarcely daring to breathe.

You are not quite sure who closes the distance between you first, but you are suddenly in Alcina’s arms and you are kissing her fiercely, your hands weaving their way through her ebony locks. Her hands settle themselves around your waist as her tongue gently parts your lips. You lay back on the sofa and bring her head gently down with you. She braces one hand on the side of the couch while the other gently holds the back of your head.

The sound of the clock chiming startles you, making you break apart suddenly. Alcina lets out a girlish giggle. “We simply have to do something about those nerves of yours, draga mea,” she purrs. You smile and lift your head up to receive her kiss again.

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 village #re8 fanfiction #lady dimitrescu fanfic #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #alcina x maiden #lady dimitrescu x female reader #lady dimitrescu x maiden #alcina x female reader

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papergirllife · 3 years

Text

Jeong Jaehyun

Fwb! Jaehyun x reader

What started off as just a casual fling with Johnny’s sister, Jaehyun finds himself spiraling when he realises his feelings for you, and if that wasn’t messy enough, his best friend just has to catch him in the act.

warnings : unprotected sex, rough sex, cream pie, fluff, etc.

Summer holidays during your university is usually filled with kids looking forward to going out together and going on the adventure they had planned at the start of the school year, or some, just want a gateway to Jeju to relax, but you? You had other plans.

Instead of leaving Seoul, you plan on staying right here, spending time with your brother, Johnny, and his members, but right now, you are planning to go see Jaehyun, only Jaehyun.

Sleeping with Jaehyun was supposed to be a one time thing, it was one night at their dorms when the guys were discussing about Jaehyun’s escapades, he had a renowned reputation for being a lady’s man in their company, and you heard his dick was a ten out of ten, so why not give it a go?

It has been 5 months since the start of this friend with benefits relationship, the two of you weren’t exclusive, but neither of you seem to have found anyone better.

Right after your last class, you got a text from Jaehyun.

Jungwoo is out with his sister and Johnny is out with Mark, come hang out ;)

You typed a quick okay, heading to the bus station to get to their dorms as soon as possible.

When you got there, you had unfortunately bumped into Donghyuck when he was on his way out.

“Noona? You're here to see Johnny? He's out with Mark though,” Donghyuck informed you.

“It's alright, I'm in no rush, I'll just wait for him here,” you said before letting yourself in, looking around to see if anyone else was around before sneaking up to the tenth floor, heading into Jaehyun’s room.

“Hi baby, you look gorgeous today, like you always do,” Jaehyun complimented, his arms outstretched to envelope you in his arms, the two of you staying like this for almost two minutes, just relishing in each others warmth.

“I missed you, Jaehyun,” you said, your feet moving forward in little steps, plopping him onto the bed with your added weight.

“We were literally just hugging, what's gotten you so worked up?” Jaehyun asked, his eyes lighting up at how yours was shining at his.

“I'm just in a good mood, and when I'm in a good mood, my sex drive tends to fluctuate,” you said, removing your cardigan, feeling the heat building up within you, revealing your cute bra underneath, soft pink just like the tips of his ears.

Jaehyun reaches out, the pads of his thumbs touching your clothed breasts, tracing the lace patterns, he reached the back of your bra, unclasping it, letting it fall below your shoulders, sliding it off your arms.

You tug the hem of Jaehyun's shirt, taking it off him to expose his chiseled body, letting your hands wander the expanse of his smooth skin, going all the way to his muscular back, holding onto him as he manoeuvres the two of you onto his bed, laying your head gently on the pillow.

“You have sheets,” you said, surprised to feel linen silk beneath you.

“Just for you,” he said, eyes looking downwards, embarrassed that he's lazy to place sheets onto the mattress when he's alone.

“You wouldn’t have to if we went to my place instead, then we could’ve been as loud as we want,” you said as Jaehyun nipped the skin just beside your nub, marking you in places only the two of you can see.

“Wanted to see you in my bed,” Jaehyun mumbled before taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking it like a newborn baby as his other hand wanders to your skirt, flipping it up to rub circles on your clothed clit, your breathing staggers at the ministrations, biting down onto your lip to silence yourself.

“Hurry, Jae, Johnny might be back soon,” you said before bucking your hips up, signaling him to pick up the pace.

“Are you sure you're wet enough? It was a week ago when we last had sex,” Jaehyun reminded you, fearing that he'd hurt you without proper foreplay.

“You literally sent a dick pic two nights ago, I'm fine, I’m really wet right now, shouldn't you do something about it?” you said, whispering the last part in a seductive tone that you know drives Jaehyun insane, tempting him.

“Fuck, okay,” Jaehyun immediately agrees, his cock jolting up at the thought of you touching yourself to him, Jaehyun stands up to take off his pants tugging down your panties after, a trail of arousal in between your thighs.

Jaehyun inserts two fingers inside you, making a scissoring motion, making sure you’re loose enough as he licks the trail of juices on your thigh, his teeth grazing the expanse of your thigh, biting down onto the flesh near your heat, sucking on it harshly until a flower blooms, red and purple dusting your skin.

After cleaning you up, he lined himself at your entrance, pushing in an inch, feeling how wet you were, he decided to just slam his whole length inside you, a loud whine of his name falling from your lips as your chest arched into his touch, he observed your face, taking in how you had a dazed look in your eyes, smiling slightly at how full you feel when he was all the way in, letting you adjust before he decides to move, but you seem to be more impatient today.

“What are you waiting for? Fuck me,” you said, feeling Jaehyun twitch inside you.

“Watch your mouth, baby,” Jaehyun said before giving your butt a spank, the pain was mild, just the right amount to remind you who's in charge and still feels arousing to you.

Jaehyun pulls out majority of his length, leaving the tip in before sheathing it back in quickly. You moan at the sudden pleasure, instinctively, Jaehyun covers your mouth before continuing his pace, snapping his hips against yours, the tip of his length brushing your sweet spot at every thrust, Jaehyun knew your body like the back of his hand, using it to his advantage, he’d always position himself right at that angle whenever the two of you needed to be quick.

Jaehyun removes his hand from your mouth when he felt both of you reaching your high soon, lips capturing yours, the feeling of your warm walls clenching around him was a feeling he could only describe as euphoric, slowly tipping him over to his orgasm.

With a hand to spare now, Jaehyun lets his hand travel southwards your body, parting your folds to reveal your swollen clit to him, rubbing it in harsh circles, pushing you over the edge as yours legs jolted from the sudden orgasm, your walls spasming around Jaehyun, as you struggled not to scream aloud, muffling your sounds with your arm, your high pushed him over the edge as well, harshly pulling your arm away, he crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your moans as he gives you a few last sloppy pumps to ride out both your highs.

When the two of you finished, Jaehyun pulled out slowly, watching the mixture of cum escaping your core, pride swelling at the sinful scene.

Jaehyun gets up to pull tissues from the box, wiping you clean before crashing onto the bed beside you, tugging the blankets up as he captures you in his hold, making sure you won’t get cold.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, someone barges in Jaehyun's room, making you jump at the sound.

“Hey, Jae, my sister left, wanna get coffee together? I'll just drop off her drink on the way back,” Johnny said quickly, halting in his tracks when he sees you, his sister, in his best friend’s bed, the both of you obviously naked underneath.

“What the fuck?!” Johnny asked, looking at his friend with a mixture of anger and disappointment.

“You, out,” Johnny ordered, pointing his finger at Jaehyun.

Jaehyun curses under his breath, slipping out of bed to dress himself.

“We should explain this together,” you said, knowing how angry Johnny could get.

“No, it's alright, get some rest, I can handle this,” Jaehyun said before heading out of his room.

By the time he was out, all of the members on the 10th floor were hanging around the living area, some were here for the pipping hot tea, some were here to make sure things won't get out of hand.

“You could've slept with anyone, why my sister? Aren't the girls at the company enough for you?” Johnny questioned, his tone borderline mad.

“Look, Johnny, hear me out. I stopped sleeping around with other girls, I think most of you realised that, I haven't been bringing girls over for a long time now,” Jaehyun started off, his friends nodding, just realising that their friend hasn’t been bringing hook ups home like the past.

“The thing is, I really like her, Johnny, I didn’t mean to catch feelings, but once I realised that, I couldn't even look at anyone other than your sister, just give me some time to tell her that myself,” Jaehyun said, finishing up his explanation, praying that he’d make out of this unscathed.

Johnny looked at him, noting how serious he looks right now, nothing like the Jaehyun who joked about how ladies get in line for him.

“Okay, as long as you don't break her heart. If she comes to me crying, you’re a dead man, Jeong Jaehyun,” Johnny warned, his eyes deathly.

Jaehyun, releasing a breath of air he was holding in, nods at his friend before going back to his room, only to find out that you were up, dressed in his shirt, a goofy smile on your face that he adores.

“I heard everything,” you started off with, “and I really like you too, Jae,” you said before opening your arms, gesturing him into a hug.

“Wait, really?” Jaehyun asked in disbelief, but nevertheless requited your hug.

“Yes, you idiot, took you long enough to realise,” you said before kissing him on the lips passionately, the pace slower than usual, just so you could express your feelings for him.

Jaehyun pulls away shortly after, his hands mushing your cheeks together, a lovesick smile on his face before he pulls you in another kiss, the two of you falling onto his bed in giggles like two teenagers in love.

#nct smut #jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #nct #nct 127 #nct fluff #jaehyun fluff

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Note

18, 19, and 40 please?🥺 maybe some smut if possible💕

19. “Take a breath honey, yes princess just like that.”

18. “Squeeze my hand if you could hear me baby.”

40. “I love you, pet. So much of it, come back, please??”

A/N: Girliessss, theysss and themsss. Sorry for being inactive :(( Missed you all so much!! Here's a blurb from mafia!h x soft subby.

Y/N had never been this bratty. She had her occasional time-outs where Harry refused to touch her for days till she broke through her ice and begged him with a drool-y sweet mouth and honeyed puppy eyes.

She knows the drill and loves the adrenaline that seeps to her toes when Harry glowers at her across the room with bolting dark intensity -- his hook of thumb in a demand to have her in his lap is enough to excite her, the punishments makes her insides shrill and makes her fall in love with her daddy more and the best part of all of it's that she wants to cherish again and again’s how adorably caring he’s once fucking her raw.

At the moment though. She isn’t being a brat on purpose. They came for a dinner (with one of the Harry's business people) and it’s all business talk, rich dicks everywhere, hush hush voices that Y/N despises and the piqued ogle of the wife on her that makes her squirmy in her seat.

She zones out into her own lil bubble for a second, imagining herself back in their cosy home comfy in Harry’s humungous overly worn hoodie, snuggling him and smooching him, pecking all those softish spots where he has runs his fingers through the night and she wants to have a delicious pizza all to herself because the food here’s the amount of worm and leaf of spinach on a worm.

She didn’t even realise that she was slipping into her subby state until she was getting all fussy about her surrounds and plucked her lipstick out smudging the crimson tip against a tissue and slides it atop Harry’s thigh from under the table,

Daddy, home?

His flicker of gaze alters from the little needy note towards his girl who’s being choosy in eating her veggies and rolling them around in boredom.

Her head perks up cutesly at the feeling of his attention on her and he suckles his wine layered lip upon the sight of her doe-blown out pupils and glossy eyes indicating him like a train's horn that she’s submerging into her submissiveness at dangerous rate when she goes all squeamish and pink cheeks at the mere touch of his knuckles against her elbow.

“Daddy, please.” She whispers into his ear impatiently squeezing his knee. About to write another note to him to stay persistent but her lipstick breaks and she flinches when it rolls under the lady’s shoe leaving a bright stain on floor.

“Behave.” Was all he muttered gruffly before throwing a nonchalant dismissive glance her way and that was the last straw for her.

It’s been hours!! All she wanted was to get home and cuddle! Is that too much too ask!?

That’s why she acted like a grump and didn’t even bid them goodbyes, waited at the lobby for him eagerly and couldn’t help but to sway with her hands clasped back and grin at the greedy thought that once he steps outside she will leap on him like an affection starved kitten.

Her wish remains a wish nevertheless when Harry passes by her with a stoic face and snaps his fingers at her, the single gesture’s enough to bead tension on her forehead.

“In the car. Right now.” He glares her sternly plucking his black leather glove to reveal his jewelled pretty hand as he reaches for the handle of the backseat door.

Y/N has decided that today she’s gonna hold her grounds and be as naughty as she possibly could to get her kisses of the day.

Sheepishly she slips inside and gives him a toothy smile whilst trying to scramble up towards to reach within the sweet distance for his lips.

The trinkets of her shiny dress makes a noise as Harry splays his calloused palm up her silken thigh, glides it all the way up her hip and keeps his grip on her to stop her from moving.

“What?” She pouts knocking her nose against his's in attempt to plant her lips atop his’s, all grabby hands for him, “You’re not havin’ any of me kisses.” He tuts, eyes dark and murky.

“But why!!?” She whines trying to cup his cheeks and just squish them awful good but he gives her a pointed look and doubles back, away from her.

“You know why, little one.” At that she gives him a nasty narrow squint of her peepers and mutters grouchily, “I hate you.”

“What did ye' just say?” He pushes her closer with one tug that elicits tiny gasp from her, his lip thin in annoyance, “I said I hate you!” She huffs crossing her arms and it makes her breast appear more plump.

In all reality, she’s too stubborn to tell him that she’s feeling terribly needy.

“Say tha’ again, I dare you.” Harry demands with tinge of surprise in his growl and she hisses in frustration adjusting the loose heavy shoulder of her dress, “I said, I hate you and this dress, ‘s so itchy. just w’na go home —-,” Her blabbing fades into a squeaky gasp upon the sharp sting of Harry’s hand against her bottom.

“What happened Sugar? Did cat caught ye’ tongue?” He grits wrapping his warm hand around her throat wanting to choke the battiness out of her, but rather it turns her into a melty puddle of a softie.

“Over my lap.” He says firmly.

“No.”

He doesn’t give her time and positions her himself horizontally on his thighs, elbows pressed into seat and raises her bum with the support of his knee, pinching her cheek teasingly to warn her.

He tries not to coo as she looks ethereal in the glittery dress that's now bunched in Harry’s fist atop her spine to expose her itty bittys and she mewls prettily when Harry spanks her asscheek watching it jiggle then does it again and again, on her last count she’s dripping down her thighs stickily.

“What a filthy little brat,” He groans adam apple bobbing from the vigour of heat spreading in his body as he inspects her wet holes with middle finger making her squirmy and whiny from his feathery touches, “Proper soaked just from gettin' spanked.” He traces the lace delicates of her panties and presses his thumb against her bundle of nerves to feel the throb from his touch.

He pulls her back up and squishes her cheeks to pucker her rosy lips, pecks it heartily, “Knows why you’re gettin’ punished baby?” His tone gentler now. Realising that she shouldn’t slip too deep before they reach home.

She snuggles into the crook of his neck and hums, guiding his hand to her sore bum to make him rub the burn he left on her ass.

“Uhmm. ‘cos didn’t behave nice, acted bad ...” Her voice slurry from desire and yearn. If it wouldn’t be for his grasp on her waist she’d have gotten off on his meaty thigh long gone, “And?” He arches his brow sceptically drawing soothing circles on her flesh.

“And that I said, I hate daddy ‘n the dress he gifted me ....” His heart thumps a bit from the statement but the rational part in him assures him that she was just bumbled about him being too distant from her.

“And what do bad girls get?”

“Punished.” She mumbles into his throat and he nods, kisses her hair and cups the nape of her neck to give it a tender squeeze.

How much she acts like a spoiled brat sometimes; he still always makes sure she’s in her comfort zone and knows why she’s getting treated that way.

“I love you, baby sweets. But .... it doesn’t mean you’d not get your punishment.” She was about to protest and throw a tantrum but the car comes to an halt right infront of the large dark doors of mansion.

Tranquil air fills with her giggly shrieks when Harry gets outside and throws her over his shoulder with an ease, his grin wicked as she squeals out “No's" grabbing onto one of the door-frames in the hallway but it’s all vain since he’s way stronger than her little grip.

Once in their room, he’s flipping her into heaps of pillows and catches her calf when she tries to crawl away in hurry.

Her eyes widen and she looks down with a pout upon hearing the rip of her dress, “Liked it.” She mummers sadly.

“Thought it was too itchy,” Harry shrugs pushing her up towards the bedhead and ducks down to speck soft kisses against her collarbones, mouth foaming at the sight of her tits spilling out of her lingerie.

“No! Was just —.. fuck ...” She keens out a moan bucking her core to grind against his thigh when he nooks his knuckle between her sloppy pussy lips and twists her panties pushing them up scruffily into her mound feeling the flutter of her clitoris, the sheer fabric of it giving the right amount of friction to get her to an orgasm.

Her wet gasps and moans fogs into Harry’s mouth as he kisses her with unyielding roughness, hot bubbles popping in her belly ready to spread the nice feeling inside her, holding her down when he knows what he’s gonna do next will turn her into batshit crazy.

He pulls back. Both. His hand and his mouth away from her.

She blinks, with a lazy smile first then the realization dawns upon her and she’s grappling for his sides but he takes her wrists and pins them down.

“Daddy no!” She growls a whine and he just sits on his heels and admires the mess he created out of her, flustered and sheened in sweat, all soft and pudging to litter her skin with marks and bites, his cock warming up in his pants, “Please daddy I want you.” The whites of her eyes enviable and glassy from the frustrated tears that are collecting at her waterline.

Though, Harry stays adamant because those innocent coy eyes are her best weapon and ties her wrists to the bedpost without saying a word to her.

“You brought this on y'self, baby.” He tugs the bound to make sure it’s not too tight and moves back to get rid of his pants, his prick bloated and throbbing from ridges, slaps against his lower belly it’s head coated with precum.

“Now you’re g'na watch me jerk myself off and cover ye' pretty tummy with my cum, might lick it off from you.” She shivers at his words. Toes curling as she silently pleads with a parted mouth and barely open eyelids.

His nostrils flares, howling groan slipping through his lips as he spits in his palm and wraps it around his fat girth slicking his fist up and all the way down to give some relief to his balls.

He dips down and sucks onto her lower lip, “Knows your safe word right?” He asks shoulders jolting when he slops the bulbous crown of his prick against her clit in slow circles.

“Yes, yellow.” She breathes out delicately hoping he slips into her soon but Harry has other plans as he squeezes himself more, swiping the dollops of white thickness from the crown of his prick and brings his thumb to stuff her mouth shut with that.

“What a greedy kitten.” He tuts in mock when she eagerly swirls her tongue around his thumb creating soft sucking noises, she gags around his digit, eyeballs rolling to her skull when Harry slides her damp panties away and strokes his cock against her drippy hole.

“Hmm. Feels good.” He husks pushing into her, but not stuffing her full and that makes her whimper. She glides her feet around his spine to push him into her and her squishy sloppy walls tries to swallow him whole.

Everything just feels too hot and overwhelming. Him fondling his shaft from where he isn’t soaked into her warmth and her tiny whines and whimpers as he teases and edges her.

“Daddy ‘m sorry!” She squeaks out breathlessly clamping down onto him, “I bet you’re.” He moans out, that one sweaty curl dangling and tickling her forehead.

“That’s the most prettiest sound I’ve heard.” At his praise she just turns into a puddle and wiggles for more.

“You’re g'na make me cum.” He kisses his teeth and she digs her feet into his back not knowing if she’s allowed to come too and not having a voice to ask for his permission.

She gulps. Eyelids fluttering. Her cheeks blushy and peachy, listening to his deep moans that whirls within the pit of his chest as he fills her pussy with warm ribbons of cum that sticks to her already soppy walls and then pulls out to empty himself on her tummy as he promised.

Moments later the room echoes with her treacly yearning whimpers and blubbers of Harry’s name as he licks her juices off and the his own cum that oozes out of her whenever he pushes his middle finger inside her cunt.

“No!” That’s why they’ve discussed it before hand, her safe word. Harry knows his baby girl and that she gives up too early, gets too overwhelmed before she could actually enjoy the good part all of it although she has a potential to be more bearing than that.

They’ve lost the count of her orgasms.

The overestimation thingy.

Harry thinks it could be the best punishment for her.

She cramps her thighs around his wrist to make him stop but he spreads them wider apart, “You could gimme another one princess, knows y’could.” He curls his fingers to caress that spongey button inside her that makes her writhe like a leaf and it definitely did.

“Shit.” Eventually she gives into him basking in the pleasure of it -- sinking down on his fingers and grinds her clit against his knuckles, her cum from her previous orgasms glistening on his skin.

“Fuck already squirting.” She didn’t realize that, too floaty in her subspace and the ecstasy until she feels his fingers rubbing inside her again.

“Daddy no, no, no ... too sensitive!” She cries out cramming her legs around his waist and pushes his chest away with her knees but Harry keeps pummelling them deeper, scissoring them and adding two more, her thighs shakes terribly a burn spreads in her limbs as the sensational craving envelopes her once again.

“Yes, yes, yes. Don’t stop, please!” She shouts out whimperishly making Harry smile and he smooches a kiss to her forehead, pressing his chest flushed to hers and cradles her jaw to make her look at him, “Cum fo’ me. You’re me good fuckin' girl – g'na come right?” She bobs her head quickly fresh tears gliding down her cheeks and Harry wipes them away immediately.

She’s flying high like a kite. Wanting him all. His hands. His touch. His cock. His cum anything she could get out of him.

His love. His attention. His constant assurances and praises, affection, tenderness and his kisses and loads ‘n loads of tiny kisses She’s always needy for that.

“’M your good girl!” She sobs out in high pitch grappling onto restraints and Harry feels this dire urge to protect his little one at all costs, “Yes you’re.” He coos brushing her hair away from her eyes and let her hide her face into his neck as she turns stiff like an arrow and creampies around his fingers, lips smushed against his cheek.

“Take a breath, honey. Yes princess just like that.” He massages her shoulder and pecks it to calm her down upon feeling her heartbeat go wild after she comes.

She shakes in his arms whilst Harry showers her in kisses lining himself against her entrance and sheathes into her in a slick, their moans melting as he buries himself deep till her belly and cum spurts out from her cunt with his each hard thrust and it drips down her bum and onto already splotched sheets.

White dots wafts past her eyelids, arms shaking and lip wobbling as she feels it hit like a train. Getting pooled into utter bliss of many orgasms, feeling a rupturing dose of euphoria cocooning her.

She feels like she’s on paradise and somebody’s calling her through the white noise but she’s unable to respond all she could do’s blabber nonsense while trying to stop squirming.

Then she gets familiar to that gentle voice, the cosiness of that hand holding onto her free ones now and the softness of those lips against her forehead.

“Squeeze my hand if you could hear me baby.” He gets anxious a little bit when she stays droopy and unresponsive like a sunflower at nights.

A huge grin adorns his after climax blissed out features when she obeys him and gives a lil squish to his palm, “There y’go baby sugar. Y'alright honey?” He kisses the tip of her nose when she just blinks up at him weepily.

“Daddy.” Her voice scratchy and awfully feeble from all of the screaming and moaning.

“No daddy. ‘S just Harry, I love you pet. So much of it come back to me, please?” He almost pleads corking his mind to think what would bring her back from her fragile state since she has never slipped past from him this deep ever.

She whines at the hollowness she feels in her tummy when he pulls out catefully from her with a squelching noise and hisses even when the sheets rustles against her folds, “So sensitive.” Harry murmurs trailing honeyed kisses into the softest flesh of her thighs.

“Yes daddy, but want you!” Harry’s brows shoots up into shock and he slips his forearm under her to hug her tight, “’M right her bubba.” She cuddles into him and yawns fumbling with his sides listening to his pacific breathing.

“Guess we gotta give this little one a sleepy bath.” He mutters into her hair, nails scratching soothingly up her neck and twirling her downsy baby curls.

“I love you.” She rasps out rubbing the sleepiness in her eyes with the back of her hand, “I love you too -- would you like if I lit up some candles in the bathroom? Y’favourite ones?” He thinks it might help her get out of her subby state.

“No. Just you.” She pouts battling the sleepiness away and clings to him when he walks them to bathroom and sits them into the cold tub, he wrapped her around him in a way she doesn’t come in contact with the coldness of it as they wait for it fill with bubbling water (Y/N was too sensitive and clingy that he knew if he’d away parted away she’d have cried endlessly.)

No words were exchanged as she almost slept on his chest and drooled all over him.

“Cutie.” Harry giggles softly pecking her parted snoring lips and cleans himself and her gently.

Gets his most worn out clothes, the one that could tell another person in a beat that she belongs to him from the smell alone.

She slings her thigh around his waist and smashes her face under his chin, canoodling into him with a little tired purr.

He was petting her head and running his hand over her back that when she mumbled into her sleep, rubbing her cheek up and down his chest, Harry stopped and ducked down to kiss her forehead feeling love bursting through his insides.

“I love you, Harry.” Was what she mumbled. He's just too much in love with his soft little button.

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