#Chocolate Party Favors

[j-patrice-chocolate-studio]

Custom Chocolate: A Personalized Touch for Every Occasion

In today’s world of luxury gifting and culinary experiences, custom chocolate has become a unique way to add a personal touch to gifts, events, and even corporate branding. From weddings to corporate events, personalized chocolate creations have risen in popularity, allowing chocolate lovers to go beyond the standard flavors and packaging. In this article, we’ll explore the appeal of custom chocolate, how to create it, the various customization options available, and why it’s the ideal choice for special occasions.

What Is Custom Chocolate?

Custom chocolate goes beyond simply choosing a flavor or type of chocolate (such as milk, dark, or white). It allows individuals or businesses to personalize everything from flavors to packaging, shape, design, and branding, making each piece of chocolate unique to the person or brand it’s designed for. Custom chocolate can include initials, logos, special messages, unique fillings, and even specific colors.

At places like J Patrice Chocolate Studio, you’ll find the art of handmade custom chocolate that combines quality ingredients with a tailored experience, ensuring every piece meets the highest standards of flavor and design.

Reasons to Choose Custom Chocolate

1. Personalization Adds Meaning

One of the main reasons people choose custom chocolate is the opportunity to make the gift meaningful. Whether it’s for a loved one’s birthday, a wedding favor, or a corporate gift, adding a personal touch to chocolate shows thoughtfulness and care. Customization turns the chocolate into a memorable experience rather than just a treat.

2. Great for Branding and Marketing

Custom chocolate is an innovative way for businesses to promote their brand. By adding a logo or a unique design, companies can create an impression that goes beyond the ordinary. Custom chocolates are often used at events, tradeshows, or in gift baskets for clients. The presentation of branded chocolate elevates a company's image, making it both memorable and professional.

3. Special for Events and Celebrations

From weddings to baby showers, custom chocolates have become a staple at various events. Personalized chocolates make for unique party favors or centerpieces. Hosts can match the chocolate designs with the event theme, colors, or motifs, adding an extra layer of cohesion to the celebration.

4. Experimentation with Unique Flavors

Custom chocolates allow for creative flavors beyond the typical offerings. This could include specific ingredients that hold meaning for the gift recipient or match a theme, such as spiced flavors for the holidays, fruit infusions, or exotic ingredients like lavender or chili.

Types of Customization for Chocolate

1. Chocolate Type The base of any custom chocolate is the type itself—milk, dark, or white. Depending on your preference, you can choose single-origin or blended chocolates to create a specific taste profile.

2. Shapes and Molds For custom chocolates, choosing shapes and molds adds a unique touch. Custom molds can create chocolates in the shape of hearts, initials, corporate logos, or anything that reflects the theme of the event or the recipient's personality.

3. Unique Flavors and Fillings Another exciting aspect of custom chocolates is the ability to choose special fillings. Popular fillings include ganache, caramel, fruit, and nut combinations, but the possibilities are endless. For instance, mint, raspberry, or coffee fillings can elevate the taste of a custom chocolate, offering something beyond the standard.

4. Personalized Packaging Packaging is crucial for custom chocolates, especially for gifting purposes. You can opt for boxes that feature your brand logo, event theme, or the recipient’s name. The outer packaging plays an essential role in making the chocolate gift look luxurious and thoughtfully designed.

5. Add Messages or Logos Custom chocolates often feature messages or logos that are imprinted or engraved on the chocolate itself. For personal occasions, this could be a message like “Happy Anniversary,” while corporate chocolates might display a brand logo, a thank-you note, or even a hashtag for social media campaigns.

Creating Custom Chocolate: The Process

Making custom chocolate is an art that involves careful planning and creativity. Here’s a look at the typical process:

1. Consultation Most chocolatiers offering custom chocolate begin with a consultation to discuss the customer's needs, preferences, and any specific ideas they have. This is a time to choose flavors, fillings, packaging, and shapes.

2. Flavor Selection and Experimentation Once the general concept is decided, the chocolatier works on flavor combinations that suit the client’s taste and theme. During this phase, some chocolatiers provide samples to ensure the client is satisfied with the flavors.

3. Design and Branding After the flavor selection, it’s time to design the molds, if needed, and create branded packaging. This might include digital mock-ups of the packaging or samples of the molds to ensure they match the client's expectations.

4. Production After all details are approved, the chocolate goes into production. Handcrafted custom chocolate requires patience and precision, especially when incorporating detailed designs or complex fillings.

5. Quality Check and Delivery Once completed, the chocolates undergo a final quality check before being packaged and sent to the client. Many chocolatiers take great care to ensure every piece meets their standards of taste and presentation.

Why Custom Chocolate Makes a Memorable Gift

1. Thoughtful and Unique Custom chocolates show that you’ve put thought into your gift, making it unique and personal. Rather than a generic gift, customized chocolates reflect your care and appreciation for the recipient.

2. A Versatile Gift for All Ages Custom chocolates are versatile enough to be enjoyed by people of all ages, making them ideal for various occasions. Whether it’s a holiday, corporate event, or personal milestone, custom chocolate is sure to be a hit.

3. Indulgent Experience Handmade custom chocolate from reputable chocolatiers, like J Patrice Chocolate Studio handmade custom chocolate, offers an indulgent experience. Each bite is crafted to provide a rich flavor profile, showcasing the quality and skill of the chocolatier.

Conclusion

Custom chocolate is more than a sweet treat; it’s a creative expression that enhances the gift-giving experience. By choosing specific flavors, designs, and packaging, you can create a gift that is as thoughtful as it is delicious. Custom chocolate is perfect for adding a personalized touch to any occasion, from personal milestones to corporate events. With its luxurious presentation and endless customization possibilities, custom chocolate offers a memorable and indulgent experience for every recipient.

FAQs

1. How do I order custom chocolate? Most chocolatiers offering custom options require a consultation. It’s best to reach out directly to discuss your needs, including flavors, shapes, and any branding or packaging requirements.

2. Can custom chocolate include unique flavors? Yes! Custom chocolates often include unique or exotic flavors, depending on what the chocolatier offers. You can experiment with fillings like fruit, caramel, nuts, or spices to create a one-of-a-kind taste.

3. How long does it take to make custom chocolates? The time needed to make custom chocolates depends on the complexity of the design and the quantity ordered. Typically, it may take anywhere from a few days to several weeks, especially for large orders.

4. Are there vegan or allergen-friendly options for custom chocolates? Many chocolatiers offer vegan or allergen-friendly custom chocolates to accommodate dietary preferences. Check with the chocolatier to ensure they can meet specific dietary needs.

5. What occasions are ideal for gifting custom chocolate? Custom chocolate is suitable for nearly any occasion, including birthdays, weddings, corporate events, holidays, and anniversaries. Its versatility and personalization make it an ideal choice for celebrations of all types.

Whether you’re looking to celebrate a special occasion or promote your brand, custom chocolate offers a unique, memorable experience that goes beyond the ordinary.

[graliceinwonderlandd]

Soo many cute trinket boxes on my site rn

☺ Like and reblog to support a fulltime artist ☺

[kuromi-hoemie]

pas...... pasteles.. por favor

[irregodless]

the answer is yeah winston probably deserved all that but not everyone else

[your-local-grinning-cat]

@brokensenseofhumor Because Madame Zeroni is invited to our Dairy Queen wedding 🥺😺

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

[harshita1166]

Jainco Star Empty Chocolate Boxes. Ideal for Chocolate gifting during weddings, festivals and all occasions. The perfect way to make your gift stand out. Crafted from premium paper & cardboard. The boxes are proudly made in India.Ideal For Birthday Gift for girlfriend boyfriend, Gift for Husband Wife and Birthday Gift for Girls & Boys With Love.

[shop-dulcechibiart]

How could you not love a slice of this? It’s a personalized pizza pattern art brownie.

Now you can create custom gifts for your friends and family. Just head to our website and order. It’s super easy.

And you’ll get a dozen brownies delivered to your door.

https://www.zazzle.com/peperroni_cheese_and_margherita_pizza_brownie-256185677989799339

[windupsproutdesigngallery]

Personalized Playing Cards and Jigsaw Puzzle: Family Party, Wedding Favors, Kids Birthday Party, or Any Other Special Occasions | Buffalo Plaid, Chocolate Food Design, Heart, Llama, Bunny, Penguin, Ice Skating, and More Unique Original Designs!

[ddodol]

addicted — p.wb

series ⭑.ᐟ [ kinktober masterlist ] content warning ⭑.ᐟ smut! minors dni!, titfreak bf!wonbin cameo, fem!reader, pet names, established relationship, taro's halloween party is still ongoing because i said so, aphrodisiac mentions, car sex, cowgirl because wonbin likes it, unprotected sex oops, ending is kinda sappy my bad. word count⭑.ᐟ 1.7k+

wonbin hated fighting with you, especially when he knows it’s his fault.

he had no idea you’d love the chocolate-coated strawberries he made for shotaro’s halloween party though, giving him a heated look after each bite. wonbin thought you looked adorable, as if you were about to eat him up.

you could still remember how sweet the strawberries tasted, the way its juices would dribble down his chin, eyes automatically flickering down his plump lips right before he crashed it onto yours. you could hear your heart beating faster, the pounding ringing in your ears as your body got hotter and hotter. you knew he felt the same, his words cut short the moment he stared into your eyes.

it felt like things escalated too quickly, finding yourself in the back of his car before you even knew it. your lips tingled before remembering that wonbin had been biting on it since earlier, brows furrowing at how it stung— though you also couldn’t deny that the pain was pleasurable.

"wonbin," you whispered softly, voice almost shaking. wonbin smiles at the sound of his name off your sweet lips, running his tongue through his bottom lip before leaning in to kiss you once more. you moaned against his mouth, tasting the sweetness of the strawberry and chocolate on his tongue as he pressed it against yours. he pushed you down gently onto the seat, his hand roaming over the robes you had on while his other hand supported the back of your neck.

his hands were huge, leaving a blazing trail on your skin as he slipped them under the dark dress you had on. "do you mind if i take these off?" he asked meekly, almost stumbling over his words. “i promise i’ll keep you warm,” he quickly added.

you chuckled at his question, pulling him in before answering, "yes. you can do whatever you want with me." you could've sworn wonbin's eyes twinkled, reflecting the streetlights right outside his car. he felt warm, relieved that you trusted him enough to let him do as he liked despite your earlier argument.

"fuck— you have no idea how happy that makes me," he groaned, hands quickly pushing your costume aside. you decided to do the same, electricity coursing through your veins as your bare skin grazed his. soft sighs escaped your swollen lips, shuddering as the discarded articles of clothing fell down the floor of his car. you decide to return the favor, eagerly pulling on his shirt. wonbin chuckles, pressing kisses on your neck as you helped undress him.

it’s been a while since you felt this giddy, almost as if you were experiencing each other for the first time despite being together for years now. you could’ve sworn something was in those chocolate-coated strawberries that made you like this, but the desire to have him right then and there was too strong to continue that line of thought.

"how do you want me, bbin?" you ask breathlessly, vision almost spinning from how desperate you were feeling. wonbin gives you a sly smile, easily lifting you up to switch positions. he sat you on his lap, cock poking at your stomach, making you giggle. he always loved seeing you on top of him, mesmerized with the way you chased after your own pleasure. you knew this was his way of letting you have your fun, perhaps his own way of making it up to you as well.

you reached down to hold his cock, his face contorting in pleasure at how warm and soft your hands felt. "baby," he mumbles, letting out sharp gasps while he throbbed against your hand. wonbin made no effort to stop you, easily finding pleasure in the way your hands moved, a quick relief even.

he let out a soft whimper when your hands stopped moving, staring at you with heavy lidded eyes, a small pout forming on his plump lips. "if you keep teasing me, i won’t go easy on you anymore,” wonbin put his hands on top of yours, helping you guide his length against your entrance. you grinned mischievously, placing your arms around his neck.

”you can’t threaten me like that. i’m still upset at you, remember?” wonbin winced slightly, hands now gripping on your waist as you sunk down on his cock without warning, a drawn out curse leaving his lips. he was at your mercy, desire rushing through his veins and clouding his mind the more you swallowed him up.

"you sure you're upset? i'm not getting any of that right now," he whispered, whimpering at how warm and perfect you felt on his cock. wonbin's moans were sweet, sending shivers down your spine at how addicting it was to hear.

“baby,” you spoke softly, cupping his face with one hand, “you sound so sweet right now, i could almost eat you all up.”

wonbin panted softly, trying to ground himself the best he could. he knew you liked taking your time, the complete opposite of him, and the way your walls hugged him was driving him insane. even the way you kept cooing at him was enough to keep him going— hell, he was inching closer to his release even as your hips rolled oh-so slowly against his.

you bit your lip, watching as wonbin’s face flushed up, eyes burning with pure desire. you were sure you looked the exact same right now, both of your bodies responding to each other out of the raw need for stimulation. wonbin threw his head back over the headrest, hands placed on either sides of your waist, occasionally gripping down on you as you moved.

you started to bounce on his cock, starting to feel more desperate. shallow, but it was enough to send the two of you into a frenzy. wonbin’s moans began to get louder, cursing and praising you in the same sentence. you found it amusing, walls fluttering around his cock in appreciation.

a mix of both your whimpers and moans filled wonbin’s car, along with the almost rhythmic creaking as a result of the excruciatingly slow pace you set despite how needy you felt. impatient, wonbin let out a small groan, picking his head back up to look down at where you two were connected. “you feel so fucking good— fuck,” he moans, brows furrowing as he watched you coat his cock with your juices with every shallow bounce.

”just a bit faster, baby, please? fuck, this is driving me insane, y/n.” wonbin stared at you with huge, glossy eyes, begging to be put out of his misery— “let me cum, baby. i know you like that. let me give it to you, yeah?”

god, he just always knows how to mess you up even more.

your walls clenched down on his cock at the mention of getting filled up, head clouded with thoughts of making a mess, something you’re both passionate about. you let out a whine, bouncing way more eagerly. “wonbin,” you felt light-headed, feeling his cock hitting you deep inside.

wonbin’s hands and mouth began to roam around as you finally picked up the pace, hands busy prying your thighs open while his lips latched onto your flushed skin, leaving marks all over as he moaned your name. one of his hands went higher, grabbing your tits with a soft sigh. his mouth followed after, gently grazing his teeth before licking over the goosebumps that popped up your skin.

you cried softly, gripping on his hair as wonbin began to suckle on your nipple. “fuck, baby,” you whine breathlessly, hips stuttering against his. wonbin moans against your skin, hand cupping your other tit as it bounced in his hand, sending shivers down your spine.

your body felt hot, more of your arousal coating wonbin’s length as your hips move tirelessly. a thin layer of sweat coated both your skin, car windows starting to fog up and the rhythmic bounce made your little affair obvious to anyone passing by.

you leaned forward, moaning as your walls clenched down on wonbin’s cock. you rested your head against his neck, rolling your hips as you ride out your high. wonbin winced at your tightness, his release shooting deep inside you soon after. wonbin let out a low groan, throwing his head back over the headrest, hands gripping tightly on your hips.

”fuck,” wonbin whispered, chuckling softly. his cock was still twitching and hard, groaning at how he was already eager for another round. he ran his hands over your curves, massaging you gently before raising his head to look at your face. he chuckles, gathering your messy hair into a ponytail, seeing how flushed your cheeks were despite the darkness.

wonbin could tell you felt the same as he does, smiling widely. he ran his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling you in for a kiss. it started slow and messy, both of you still reeling from your earlier orgasm. wonbin deepened the kiss, one hand cradling the back of your neck while the other pressed your hips down against his.

you bit his lower lip, slightly tugging on it as you pulled away. you met his heated gaze, the corners of your lips curling up. wonbin glanced down, smiling at you.

“i know you want more, y/n,” he whispered against your lips. wonbin’s eyes twinkled, staring into your eyes in anticipation.

your body was starting to cool down. the mysterious effect from the chocolate-coated strawberries you both ate earlier began to wear off, your head feeling clearer and muscles starting to ache now that you were still, but you also had the desire to keep going.

you sighed, a chuckle escaping your swollen lips. “you got more of those chocolate strawberries back at your place?” wonbin laughs at your poor attempt at flirting.

”you’re lucky we’re already dating,” he whispered, a smile plastered on his face as he admired you, “and that i find you extremely adorable.”

"so is that a yes?" wonbin chuckles at your question, leaning in to capture your lips for a quick but sweet kiss, almost defeating the sweetness of the chocolate-coated strawberries you both had earlier.

he pulled away, sighing contentedly. "you know i'd say yes a thousand times over as long as it's you."

[thesecondhandwoman]

BIRTHDAY GIRL

Caitlyn x f!reader

Synopsis: It is Caitlyn’s birthday, and you wanted to make it perfect, especially as her girlfriend, even if you made it a bit excessive.

A/N: Just had to write something for this woman’s birthday (she turned 24/25 in the fanfic).

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains of Caitlyn’s bedroom, painting the room in shades of gold and lavender. You perched carefully on the edge of the bed, balancing a tray loaded with breakfast delights: fluffy pancakes drizzled with syrup, perfectly scrambled eggs, fresh fruit arranged in a neat fan, and a steaming cup of coffee. A single rose sat in a vase beside it all, adding a touch of elegance Caitlyn would certainly notice.

Taking a deep breath, you leaned over to gently nudge her shoulder. “Caitlyn,” you said softly, your voice warm with anticipation. “Time to wake up, birthday girl.”

She stirred, her brows knitting slightly before her lashes fluttered open. Her soft blue eyes, still hazy with sleep, locked onto yours. “What’s all this?” she murmured, her voice low and drowsy.

“Good morning to you, too,” you teased with a grin. “Breakfast in bed, because today’s your day, and I plan on spoiling you properly.”

A smile crept across her lips as she sat up, her hair falling in tousled waves around her face. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” she said, though the soft blush coloring her cheeks told you she was already touched.

“Oh, but I did,” you replied, placing the tray on her lap. “You only turn, uh, twenty-something once.”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re terrible at this guessing game.”

“Terrible at guessing, sure. Great at making you smile, though,” you said with a wink.

“Did you really forget my age though, baby?” She joked while looking back down at the tray.

“Pssh, no, I was just joking, Mrs. 25 years old.”

Caitlyn chuckled again, her elegant fingers wrapping around the coffee mug. She took a careful sip, her eyes closing briefly in appreciation. “Perfect, as always. What would I do without you?”

“Probably forget it was your birthday,” you teased.

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Fair point.”

As she ate, you stayed close, enjoying the peaceful morning with her. Every bite seemed to make her more at ease, her usual sharp and focused demeanor replaced with something softer, more relaxed. It wasn’t often Caitlyn allowed herself to be doted on, but today, she accepted it gracefully.

Once the tray was empty, Caitlyn set it aside and reached for your hand. “Thank you,” she said, her voice sincere. “This was a lovely way to start the day.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you said, leaning in to kiss her lightly. “The day’s just getting started.”

Her lips quirked up in amusement. “Should I be worried?”

“Not at all,” you promised. “Just be ready for a few surprises later.”

She gave you a knowing look but didn’t press further. “Well, I’m intrigued.”

After Caitlyn left for work, the real madness began. Piltover’s streets were their usual chaotic blend of merchants shouting, tinkers advertising their wares, and enforcers patrolling with sharp eyes. You darted between stalls and shops, collecting everything you needed for the evening: golden and sapphire balloons, streamers, candles, and a perfectly wrapped present hidden inside your bag. The pièce de résistance, however, was the cake.

The bakery owner handed it to you carefully, the chocolate confection topped with elegant swirls of frosting and decorated with delicate candied flowers. “You’ve got good taste,” she said with a grin.

“Thanks,” you replied. “She deserves the best.”

By mid-afternoon, your apartment was a bustling hub of activity. Streamers crisscrossed the ceiling, the banner proudly declaring HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CAITLYN! in bold letters. The table was set with plates, utensils, and the centerpiece cake surrounded by tiny party favors. You even managed to string up fairy lights along the windows for extra charm.

The doorbell rang just as you adjusted the final balloon. When you opened it, Vi stood on the other side, holding a small, poorly wrapped box. “You know, you’re making the rest of us look bad with all this effort,” she joked, stepping inside.

“Somebody has to,” you teased back. “And Caitlyn deserves it.”

Vi smirked but didn’t argue, setting her gift on the table. “She’s lucky to have you.”

The guests trickled in after that, which were Caitlyn’s colleagues, Ekko, Jayce and Viktor, even Jinx (who, after a stern warning from Vi, promised not to set anything on fire). The room filled with laughter and chatter, the perfect backdrop for the celebration ahead.

When the clock struck 7:00, Caitlyn’s key turned in the door. You quickly shushed everyone, the room falling silent as the door creaked open.

“Hello?” Caitlyn called, her tone cautious.

“Surprise!” everyone shouted, the room erupting in cheers.

Caitlyn froze, her wide eyes darting across the sea of smiling faces and the colorful decorations. When her gaze landed on you, standing front and center with a proud grin, her expression softened into something you couldn’t quite describe—relief, happiness, and love all wrapped into one.

“You did all this?” she asked, stepping further into the room.

“Of course,” you said, walking up to meet her. “Happy birthday, Cait.”

She hesitated for only a moment before pulling you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping securely around you. “Thank you,” she murmured into your ear. “This is perfect.”

The party was a smashing success. Caitlyn blew out her candles to a raucous chorus of “Happy Birthday,” her cheeks pink with embarrassment but her smile never wavering. She opened her presents with genuine delight, though Vi’s gag gift (a questionable sweater) earned an exaggerated groan.

As the evening wore on and the guests began to filter out, you found Caitlyn sitting on the couch, the soft glow of the fairy lights framing her silhouette. You joined her, leaning into her side as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“You really went above and beyond today,” she said softly.

“I wanted it to be special,” you replied. “You deserve that.”

She looked down at you, her sapphire eyes catching the light. “You make every day special, you know.”

You felt your cheeks flush but didn’t look away. “That’s because you make it easy.”

She laughed quietly, then leaned down to kiss you. It was slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that made time feel irrelevant. When she pulled back, her expression was tender.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, you didn’t complain when I started leaving coffee at your desk every morning.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “That was bribery, and you know it.”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

She kissed you again, cutting off whatever witty comeback you might’ve had.

The night ended with the two of you curled up together under a blanket, the remnants of the party scattered around the room. Caitlyn’s hand traced gentle patterns on your arm as you rested your head against her chest.

“This was the best birthday I’ve ever had,” she murmured, her voice soft and content.

“I’m glad,” you said, snuggling closer. “You deserve it, Cait.”

She kissed your temple, her lips lingering. “You’re my favorite part of today.”

“And you’re mine,” you replied, tilting your head to meet her gaze.

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten. In that quiet moment, surrounded by the glow of the fairy lights and the faint scent of cake in the air, you knew this day would be one to remember.

A/N: Happy birthday Caitlyn (and any others who also have the same one!)

[dazzlerwriting]

let your heart be light

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x reader

prompts: Caught under the mistletoe

song: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by Frank Sinatra

summary: after 8 months of pining, fate works in your favor to get you and the shy WSO together. or maybe it was rooster who got you two together? who’s to say!!

warnings: no use of y/n, but there is the nickname “Mouse”so much fluff you’ll get a cavity. there are switches between you and bob’s pov, but its shown with a divider! mentions of alcohol and food. no descriptors besides she/her pronouns! no smut but as always 18+

wc: 3.1k

a/n: wow i have been stuck with this. but its pushed me to do new things and i had so much fun! i absolutely love the holidays. i hope you love mouse and bob<3 this is for @lewmagoo ‘s holiday celebration. thank you for letting me be apart of it, and i hope you have the happiest of holidays!

“Shit! Mouse can you hand me another piece of tape? This piece of garland will not stay up.” With a laugh, you jog to where Penny is standing on the pool table, a dejected look across her face.

For the last 8 months, you've been working at the Hard Deck as a bartender for Penny, your mom’s wonderful best friend, who knew you needed a job to help with school. This week though, Penny asked if you could put down the cocktail shakers for tinsel because TOP GUN is having its annual holiday party.

Tinsel & a dried orange garland is hung in between the coffee mugs hanging from the ceiling, a table by the fireplace has been replaced with a Christmas tree with fighter jet ornaments, the warm-toned string lights hung around the entire inside have been replaced with multi-colored Christmas lights, and mistletoe is placed sporadically per request of Bradley & Natasha. The outside of the bar has also been decorated to look like a Hallmark movie. You two spent multiple days after work putting Christmas lights around the outside of the building, an inflatable snow globe that says “Happy Holidays” outside by the nautical ship wheel, and getting garland strung along the railing on the side deck.

After putting the finishing touches on decorations, you take a step back & take it all in. You’ve been struggling this year, as it is your last full year of your master's degree program: so many appointments, meetings, critiques, and an abundance of schoolwork. You’ve barely had the chance to live this year. This last week of decorating has allowed you to breathe, despite it being considered work. Being at the Hard Deck, around people you consider friends always fills you with warmth, especially when you see a certain sandy blonde, bespectacled WSO.

Over the 8 months of working at the bar, you and Bob have become somewhat friends, always making conversation whenever he needs a break from the other members of the Dagger Squad, learning about each other a little bit more each time he comes to get some peanuts. You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t harboring feelings for him, in fact you think it’s pretty obvious to maybe everyone besides Bob. Penny, Natasha, Jake, and even Maverick calling you out on your crush. They took to calling you “Mouse” because you scurry away so fast after interacting with Bob, like a mouse who just got some cheese. Always leaving the conversations so fast when they’re done, filled with warmth and a bit of worry that maybe you said something embarrassing.

With a sigh and a slight smile, you walk out to your car and head home. The moment your head hits your pillow, images of the quiet WSO pop into your head, dreams of a life together surrounded by love

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Bob has spent the past two hours trying to make these chocolate-covered marshmallows, look like the cutest reindeer and grinches anyone has ever seen. He knows he shouldn’t be putting this much effort into something people will be too tipsy to notice. He wants to impress you though. When he first saw you behind the bar at the Hard Deck, he became smitten. He remembers stumbling over his words while ordering a ginger ale, and the blinding smile you gave him, which showed no judgment. Since then, you have consumed his thoughts, dreams, and even conversations with Natasha.

Every weekend, he would gaze across the bar longingly at you, until Natasha inevitably forced him out of his seat to talk to you. She always tells him you like him back, trying to get him to make a move, but he never fully believes her. The conversations he has with you, flow like you two have known each other for years. They leave him with a warmth that could rival the warmth of a hot chocolate. He wants them to last forever, but he just cannot work up the courage to make a move.

So here he is, the night before the party, putting tiny details on little chocolate-covered marshmallows, in the hope that maybe it will start a conversation with you.

When he finally finishes the little snacks, he gets ready for bed. He finds himself thinking about you and what a life with you by his side would look like. Bob falls asleep with a slight smile on his lips, the nervousness about tomorrow replaced by a feeling of love.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The next day, you wake up and feel excitement rush through your veins. Despite having to work for half the party, you can’t wait to be surrounded by some of your favorite people. You put on your holiday playlist and hum along to Frank Sinatra’s Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas while you get ready for the night. You have to be at the bar a bit earlier than usual, the holiday drink menu takes a little time to prepare, and you also want to help Penny with any last-minute things she might need done. After putting the finishing touches on your makeup, you slip on the red velvet dress you bought for the occasion. The white lace on the cuffs and neckline give it the look of Mrs. Claus, which you thought was perfect for tonight. Slipping on your shoes and grabbing your keys, you make your way to the bar, the joy you felt from this morning never dying down.

Once at the bar, you immediately rush to where Penny is carrying a box of holiday glasses.

“Oh my, hold on Penny let me grab those from you!” Once she sees you, she immediately lets out a sigh of relief and a little huff of a laugh, “Thank you Mouse, I thought I was going to have to sit out here and wait for someone to help.” She grabs the door for you, and you both walk in, stopping for a moment to take in the sight of the lights and decorations. “We did a good job with this place, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it look so… joyful,” She said with a loving look. Looking over at her, you can’t help but be extremely thankful for her, and glad to be in the presence of someone so strong and lovely.

You put the box on the bar and start prepping drinks for the party, a variety of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages the two of you made the day prior. After getting the pitchers of drinks from the back and to the fridge under the bar, you help Penny set up the food station with what you two already have, knowing that some of the TOP GUN members planned to bring their own dishes. Finally, when the prepping is over, you hear the door open and see Bradley, Jake, Mickey, and Javy walk in with bright smiles. You smile back at them as they make their way up to the bar, “Happy Holidays gentleman! Coyote, Rooster, you can sit the food over on that table over there!” Pointing to the table near the jukebox, you turn towards Jake and Mickey with a cheerful smile on your face, “What can I do for you?” Looking over the holiday drink menu, Jake turns back to you with that permanently plastered smirk on his face, “Happy holidays Mouse, can I get a nice cup of the spiked eggnog?” You nod, listening to the others tell you what they want, you move to get it all out of the fridge. As soon as you do you watch Natasha and Bob walk in.

Stopping in your tracks, you take in Bob’s look for the night. He’s ditched the khaki uniform for a red velvet jacket over a white shirt, and a nice pair of jeans, which is doing wonders for his legs. You realize then, that the two of you are matching. You also notice he’s got a plate of what looks like really cute marshmallows, jesus as if he couldn’t get more endearing. Standing mouth agape and eyes wide open, you hear someone clear their throat, and you’re snapped out of your thoughts. Blinking rapidly, you go back to what you were doing and get the drinks ready for the guys while Natasha and Bob make their way up to the bar.

While you're handing the guys their drinks, Natasha takes in the sight of your outfit, looks at Bob’s outfit, and then turns back to you with bright eyes, a smirk making its way onto her face, “Happy holidays Mouse! Looks like you and Bob here are matching tonight!” Before Bob can notice, you shoot her a sharp glare that drops as soon as you meet Bob’s eyes, a smile that reaches your eyes replacing it. “Happy Holidays Mouse,” Bob says while fidgeting with his hands. He seems to have a slight blush across his cheeks, and for a minute you think he might be just as flustered as you.

“Happy Holidays you two, see any drinks that catch your eye?” You make eye contact with Bob as you ask the question, but soon you break it if only to hide the obvious affection shining in them. Bob and Natasha look over the little menus put out, and he asks with a gentle smile “Can I get a cup of the non-alcoholic punch?” You nod your head and wait for Natasha to give her order, and as soon as she does you’re getting the drinks ready and put in front of them.

With one last shy smile shared between you and Bob, you let him know where he can put the snacks he brought, and you watch as they make their way over to other members of the Dagger Squad. Wistfully sighing as you watch more members of TOP GUN start pouring in, the Christmas music playing drowned out by laughter and friendly competition. Tonight will be busy for sure, but the love and joyfulness that surrounds the bar is worth the exhaustion you know you’ll be facing at the end of the night.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When Bob walked into the Hard Deck, he was sure his heart was going to jump out of his chest at the sight of you. You look so gorgeous in the red velvet dress, that shockingly matches his outfit and a cheeriness that put a smile on even Tom Kazansky’s face. It wasn’t until Rooster snapped at him, that he realized he was staring. After the formalities at the bar, he knew he was going to be counting down the minutes until he could talk to you again. He watched as you talked to those coming up the bar, and made their drinks with skills he couldn’t even imagine. He daydreams about days of cooking your food while you finish school work on the couch, and spending the rest of the night cuddled up watching movies together. Natasha only makes a few comments about his staring, she already knows he plans to ask you on a date tonight so she doesn’t feel the need to push him too hard. Soon he watches as the last of TOP GUN piles into the bar, and as you finally get to take a breather.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

After the last member comes in, Penny nods, letting you know you can enjoy the party. Walking out from behind the bar, you go to the snack table to grab a few things. Once you have a bit of food on your plate, you make your way pool table where the Dagger squad has taken up their usual spots. You greet them all with a wide smile and stand beside Bob.

“Hi Mouse, you look lovely tonight.” You look down at yourself and fidget with the plate in your hands before looking back up at him, “Hi Bob, you look handsome tonight, I mean not that you don’t every night but the jacket is a nice touch.” You realize you’re starting to ramble so you let out a huff of laughter, “Sorry, you also look lovely tonight Bob.” You look at him and his features have softened, and his smile is so wide you wonder if it hurts. “Thank you, so tell me about your week,” the two of you fall into the flow of conversation. You tell him all about setting up the bar for tonight, and he tells you about teaching the new TOP GUN recruits this week. While he’s talking you take a look at the little snack you saw him bring in, realizing all the little details put onto the marshmallows.

“Bob did you decorate these??” You ask with wide eyes, realizing he must have spent hours on them. “I did, are they good? I wanted to make sure they were at least cute enough, despite them being eaten,” he says with a bashful smile. “They’re amazing! I mean the little hat on the Grinch? It’s so so cute!” You take a bite and let out a little moan at how good it tastes, but when you look back up that blush is back on his face, pupils dilated, and the tips of his ears are red.

Once you finish eating the plate you brought over, you set it on the table and turn back towards Bob. At that very moment, Bradley has decided he needs a lot of space for the pool game he’s taking part in. You and Bob are shoved a bit over, and he grabs your arms to steady you, and you gaze into each other’s eyes for a minute. The spell is broken by Natasha coughing and pointing up. You both look up and… oh. You’re standing right under the mistletoe. Looking back at Bob, he’s already staring back at you, then to your lips, and back to your eyes. You feel a shiver run down your spine. With a shy look, he begins to speak, “Mouse is it alright if I kiss you?” You can barely hear him over the chattering and music, but you do hear him. You nod your head and lean in.

When your lips meet it’s like everyone else in the bar has disappeared, the chattering and music are far away, the twinkle of the Christmas lights illuminate your closed eyes, and you taste the holiday punch he had been drinking. The tension in your body leaves, and you feel like you’re dreaming. The only way you know you are not is you can feel his hand on the back of your neck lightly massaging there.

Once you two pull away, the sounds of the squad cheering fade back in, and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. When you hear Natasha snap at them, you pull your head out and look up at Bob.

“Hi,” he says with a slight giggle, which seems to be contagious because soon you’re giggling as well. “Hi,” you reply when the giggles seem to die down. Your eyes trace his facial features and you fix his glasses back to their original position, a nervous smile playing on your lips.

Bob looks into your eyes and he seems a bit nervous, “I feel like I'm doing this backward, but I really like you, and I have since I saw you working behind the bar for the first time. Do you think maybe I could take you out on a date tomorrow?”

You tilt your head to the side, a kind smirk playing on your lips as you play with the hair on the nape of his neck, “Of course Bobby. Seeing you every week has been the highlight of my year, and you make me feel like the only person in the room whenever we talk. So of course, I would love to go on a date with you.”

Right as you finish speaking, you hear Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas carry through the bar. You two look into each other’s eyes, your breathing has slowed down, and you start to sway to the song. You know it’s not the most conventional thing but with Bob holding your waist, and a smile on his face, it feels right.

As the song plays you decide to think back on this year.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light”

Smiling softly, you decide this might be the best Christmas you’ve had. You feel as though there’s only you and Bob in the room. You feel like a weight is off of you as you lose yourself in the dance.

“From now on, our troubles will be out of sight”

Next year, you will have your master's degree and you can finally rest. You think about how with Bob by your side it doesn’t seem all that hard. You’re excited for what the future holds for the first time in forever.

“Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore”

Being surrounded by these people who you have come to cherish, you get thrown back to your childhood and the warmth you felt with family at Christmas. How Christmas felt so carefree at the time, and so full of love.

As the song continues, you and Bob slowly move to holding hands and standing next to the rest of the dagger squad, who seem to all be feeling the song. They’re all singing and swaying while holding onto each other.

“Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us, once more.”

Looking around you’ve never felt so surrounded by love. You’ve come to find a family in the best of the best.

“Through the years, we all will be together if the fates allow.”

You look at Bob and see a future of more holidays spent wrapped up in each other and the love of friends, you trust their skills as pilots, and trust that fate will keep you together.

“Hang a shining star upon the highest bough and have yourself a merry little Christmas now”

The lights in the bar twinkle around you all as you all gather around each other saying goodbye and happy holidays. The star on top of the tree in the bar reflects on you all and leaves you feeling warm inside. The smile on your face never goes away as you look at Bob with his friends.

When he comes back to you, you’re fiddling with your dress and you look at him with adoration, “Would you like to come over and watch a movie while we drink hot chocolate?”

He leans in and gives you another kiss, and it’s just as breathtaking as the first one. “Of course,” he says with a hint of breathlessness. When the two of you walk out holding hands, you look up to the night sky and realize this will be the first Merry Christmas you’ve had in a while.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

tagging: @floydsmuse @sometimesanalice @lunatygerqueen

[hollyhoneybear]

【 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 】 - being athy's big sister

remember, requests are open !

Athanasia was very weary of you, at first.

In Lovely Princess, you were an impartial character. You treated both Athanasia and Jennette the same, never favoring one more than the other.

At first, you did speak out agaist the claims of Athanasia poisoning Jennette. However, when the fake evidence was presented, you could only side with the law.

The novel didn't expand much on your personally.. You were just Jennette's beloved big sister, and Claude's first daughter.

So she was surprised when almost every day, without fail, you would come running to her nursery, begging whatever maid that was half-hazardly watching Athy to let her play with you.

Although only a few years older than Athy, you did more than the maids every did (aside from Lillian, of course). You happily bottle fed her, read her books, played toys with her.

Still, Athy kept her guard up with you. You'd think she's cute now.. but when Jennette comes along, you'd leave her side just like in the novel.

...

At 10 years old, your little sister was 5. After your persistant efforts, Athy had slowly let down her guard around you. It was alright to relax for now.. right?

Your days before Claude were blissful. You'd sneak Athy chocolates, bake sweets together while the maids gushed over how cute you both were. You'd spend hours in the flower fields braiding wildflowers.

At some point, you basically began living in the ruby palace. You'd crawl into bed with Athy at night, holding her against you as Lily read you both a bed time story.

Every single night a kiss was placed on her small forehead, and you both slept soundly in each other's company.

But that changed when Claude appeared.

...

Both something that you and Athy could agree on was that Claude was.. unknown to you both. He wasn't exactly a good father to either of you.

Still, you saw the opportunity for your family to become closer, so you jumped at the chance!

Every day you were in Claude's office begging him to have a tea party with Athy and her.

Every day you would ask for a bit of money to get Athy a gift - and then of course, suggest he should get her one as well.

Slowly, over time, you three bonded and became closer (even if Athy didn't want to admit it).

When Athy started drowning that one day, Claude watched as you nearly jumped in after her. But he grabbed you by your ankle before you could jump in, instead fishing his hand in to get her out himself.

That surprised you both. You were excited, while Athy was freightened.

Things really changed when Athy had that near-death scare, though. You three were having one of your usual tea parties, when Athy started spitting up blood.

The last thing she saw was you rushing to her side, and Claude staring at you both in shock.

...

After that incident, everything changed. Well - things stayed similar. You three had tea, ate dinner together, went on boating trips. But things just felt.. different.

You both could see the way Claude looked at you two had changed. You were cherished. And while you weren't super caught off guard about it, Athy certainly was.

Every day you were carrying her to Claude's office, and spent almost the whole day in there coloring, playing, or talking to Claude.

Claude started giving you both gifts.

When you appeared at his office one day with Athy, dressed in these adorable matching outfits Lily got for you both, Claude nearly choked at how cute his daughters were.

You three were getting closer, as if you were a real family.. and Athy felt like she could finally, really, relax.

...

As you both got older, your dynamic changed a little, but you were stiill very close.

You helped Athy with everything for her debutante. Choosing decorations, jewelery, makeupstyles to do, dresses to wear, you were involved in every step. And she couldn't have loved it more!

Compared to Athanasia's original debutante, the event didn't feel like an upcoming battlefield, but instead a day to celebrate with her family ....in front of a bunch of nobles, but we'll skip that.

She insisted that you were a dress that matched her's somewhat.

As a teenager, she's much more protective over you. Her darling, angelic older sister, she couldn't just let someone take advantage of you!

Definitely starts getting jealous when you start spending more time with your friends, or your lover.

Despite her fears, you never "left her side" for Jennette. You were always cordial towards her, but Athy was always your first priority.

When Jennette's identity was eventually revealed, despite the ongoing turmoils, you tried to act like family to Jennette, but that sister bond with Athy was a bit different.

And even if it was a little selfish.. she was immensely greatful for that. You were the only person to be on her side since day one.

You were always there during the hardest times for Athy. Even when she ran away, she couldn't bare to see you in distress, so she would visit you every night and keep you updated.

On one occasion, she snuck you out to meet Jennette..

..And it was wonderful! You three spent the night drinking tea, eating cute cookies, and chatting the night away.

It relieved you that, even though Athy wasn't home, she was still safe.

...

By the time Claude got his memories back, you three had the strongest relationship you'd ever had before.

You were.. a real family.

After everything with Anastacius was over, the topic of inheritance came about.

You were, by a good few years, the eldest.. and therefore, the rightful heir to the throne.

You expressed right away that you'd love for Athy to become Empress. But that's where she stops you!!

You've done everything for her in this life. If you weren't here.. she wasn't sure if she'd even be alive, let alone in Obelia.

So after much deliberating, it was agreed that you would be the next Empress of the Obelian Empire.

...Which meant, you had to hang out with Athy a lot less. It was torture for you both.

The bright side was that Athy got to involve herself in all aspects of the planning. She wanted you to have the best coronation, so she deemed herself in charge of the matter, along with Claude of couse. But she'd act like the boss because it's Athy

She helped you pick out a dress, decide on the hairstyle. You two spent countless nights doing makeovers on each other, because she wanted to try different makeup styles on you, and you wanted to try similar looks on her so that you were matching on the special day.

When the day came.. it was magcial.

You were surrounded by your loving little sister, your proud father, the friends you had made, and the empire that adored you.

Although Athy wasn't going to be Empress, you made sure to communicate to her that you two would stay as close as you always had.

Despite her original fate, Athanasia had earned her place of ultimate safety and happiness; right by her big sister's side.

[ryiju-muunie]

Chocolate roses

18+ viewer discretion advised

fem!reader/toji fushiguro Warnings: aphrodisiac, divorced Toji, mama-guro POV, make-up sex, creampie, breeding kink, squirting, pussy eating, fingering, doggy style, nipple play, make out, fluff, a bit of angst, the reader is in her thirties and Toji is like forty :/ Word count: 4577 words DESC: Your ex-husband Toji shows up unannounced to surprise your kids after school! At 10 AM! And some things go down when he eats chocolate meant for a bachelorette party and not him.

PSA this is inspired by the lovely I Always Come Back by HXLTIC that I read at 3 AM. This is not proofread although my friend was reading along so we ball ^-^

When Toji Zenin showed up at your door, the first thing you wanted to do was slam it shut in his face. But… the father of your children? You couldn’t bear to do that to him. So instead you heard him out. 

“I wanted to surprise Tsumiki and Megumi when they came home from school,” was all your ex-husband said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. His shirt was black and too tight for his well-built body. That was one thing you missed, but it was too early to think about running your hands up his chest. 

Instead, you turned your head to the side to peer behind him on your porch. It was a sunny day and only 10:03 AM. School typically got out at 2:30 and knowing your kids they’d be doing all sorts of extracurriculars, pushing their arrival home back by another two hours. 

God! Why did he want to come so … early? It would be about four hours of pure torture with the man you once swore you’d devote your life to. But things were different. Your vows were broken on both ends and you weren’t proud to admit it but a lot of the fall of your marriage was your fault. You had decided to go back to work and force your husband to stay home and watch the kids. He didn’t mind he enjoyed spending his mornings watching little Gumi and Miki. 

But then you started coming home later and later, dodging his kisses and calls in favor of making money. You lost sight of your marriage and he left you for it. If you truly admitted to yourself, you missed him. You missed him so much. But how could you tell him that? It had been five years since your divorce and the last thing you could do was call him crying trying to mend it. 

Toji had his walls up and you didn’t blame him. If the roles were reversed you would’ve done the same thing. 

“I don’t know…” You trailed off, looking down at the oversized orange cardigan you had bought at a local shop a few years back, “They won’t be back until the mid-afternoon.” Your voice took an unsure tone and your hands took to mess with the ends of your knitted sweater.

Toji always liked that on you and you could tell he still did. While he had his walls up he didn’t exactly hide his gaze. It slowly trailed up your body but not in a sexual way this time. In more of a familiar way. You hadn’t stopped this long to talk to him in a few years. Every time you’d see each other you were too embarrassed to speak to him for more than a minute. I mean, your failed marriage was your fault, right?

“I think you’ve been avoiding me,” Toji rested one hand on the frame of the door and the other on the door itself, pushing it forward with one strong movement, “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It was almost six years ago, I’m over it.”

Your eyes narrowed. Was it that obvious on your face? Could he just read all the emotions coming off of you? All the shame and regret he didn’t get to see because you were too busy waving him off. 

Without saying anything else your ex-husband pushed past you and plopped himself down on your white couch, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it to the side. He stretched out his legs and arms without looking back at you. Instead, he was focused on the decorations. It had been so many years since he was invited inside. With every year more regret and shame built up in your mind, so you stopped inviting him inside. 

“Yeah just… make yourself at home,” you sighed, walking to pick up his jacket. But then you stopped yourself and let out a breath. If he said he was over it then the least you could do was make it less awkward. Offer him something to drink?

“Do you want something to drink? Tea or lemonade?” You raised an eyebrow, motioning to the open-concept kitchen you had opted for, which differed from the one you two used to share. 

The raven-haired male glanced over towards the kitchen and one-half of his mouth turned upwards in a lopsided smirk, “You have any beer?” 

You blinked a few times as the request registered in your mind, “Toji it’s almost 10:30.”

“Fine,” he waved a hand and stood up, walking straight past you as if he had owned and built the place himself. He strolled up to the fridge and opened it, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at the limited options, “I’m kinda hungry too… you don’t mind do you?” 

With that, a smile appeared on your face. For once Toji wasn’t very tense and for once you weren’t either. Maybe he was really over it, or at least somewhat over it. Or… maybe he was trying to move past it and make amends. Maybe coming over today so early was his way of saying “It’s okay, let’s move on together.” It was mature of him, something you never thought you’d think about Toji. He was mature. 

He noticed your smile and nodded, taking that as a yes to the fact you didn’t mind. Maybe your relationship was going to change for the better. 

“I bought Megumi and Tsumiki some rollerskates,” you began turning and walking to sit back on the couch. You didn’t want to hover over your ex-husband and he could pick his food himself. Besides, it was nice to talk as if no time had passed. 

“Am I gonna have to teach them how to skate?” Toji asked, with his head stuck inside the fridge rummaging around. There had to be something in there that he would like. After you divorced you stopped buying the things he liked, so maybe he wouldn’t find anything after all. 

You thought for a moment before nodding, like he could see you, “I think it would be a good bonding activity.” As you spoke your ex-husband came and sat down a foot away from you on the opposite side of the couch. 

He was munching on something you hadn’t bothered to glance over to inspect. Well you didn’t mind, he was the father of your children so if he ate your snacks it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the entire world.

You two sat in silence for a moment. You grabbed the remote and opted to play an old show you were both familiar with but didn’t have the energy to fully commit to. The silence was nice. It was comforting to sit next to someone who you once loved. Well… you still did love him but he didn’t need to know that. It was nice to pretend that nothing had changed and you were back to normal. 

“These chocolates are weird…” Toji murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his right hand. Then he got up to go to the sink and wash his hands. 

Chocolates? Well, there were only a few chocolates in the fridge. Some you got as a Valentine's Day gift from Megumi, then some you had bought for a bachelorette party. But those were hidden away in the butter container on a high shelf, so none of your kids found them.

The special chocolates had some aphrodisiacs in them and for some weird reason, the bride-to-be requested you brought them for her. Something about a last day of freedom. Whatever it was you shrugged and did so. The packaging said you were supposed to keep them refrigerated and then in twenty to thirty-five minutes they would work. 

“Were they good? Megumi picked them out for me,” you looked back at him as he washed his hands. There was a different aura about your ex-husband as he stood washing his hands. His body was stiff and his muscles looked a bit tense.

He glanced back at you with a faraway expression before nodding and swallowing visibly, “They tasted a little weird, but eh,” Toji shrugged and sat down on the couch again. This time, though, just a bit closer than before. He crossed one of his legs, in a manly way, resting his ankle on his knee and bouncing the resting leg.

“Weird? Were they expired?” You frowned and stared at the TV. You never understood the hype of 1990s sitcoms but it was something better than sitting in more silence. With good silence, you always needed something in the background.

Toji blinked a few times as his lips pressed into a firm line. He took a moment to respond with the muscles in his jaw tightening. His eyes darted back and forth between the girl and the man on TV before he replied, “...Yeah.”

You frowned but said nothing else. Hopefully, you didn’t food-poison him. The one time you had your ex-husband over and he got sick? How bad would that look? You shook your head and moved some hair back behind your ear to the best of your ability, trying not to stare. He looked… different. More focused on the TV like it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

Maybe ten minutes had passed before he broke the silence again, “Can we turn on a fan? I’m running hot,” was all he said, but it was different than before. His voice was low, husky, and rasped. When he turned to meet your worried gaze, you were met with a familiar stare. 

He was… horny. 

Your eyes widened at the sudden realization as to what chocolates he ate, and why they tasted so weird. You were married to him for almost a decade of course you knew the exact look and what it meant down to the way he looked at you through a thick row of eyelashes. You knew what that clenched jaw and tightened bicep meant. He was trying desperately not to make a move on someone he swore he was over. 

You turned away and nodded, standing up to turn on the fan from the knob on the wall. As you did so, you felt those eyes penetrating your back and burning holes deep into your skin. Five years of pent-up lust was coming out and being thrown your way. You swallowed and looked back at the wall. You had to say something. Toji probably already knew he had eaten something laced and he was probably mentally freaking out, as much as Toji Zenin could freak out. 

“Toji-” You couldn’t even get a word out before he hissed and threw his head back. 

“Don’t… speak, doll,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “I don’t think these were Gumi’s chocolates, huh?” Was the last thing he managed to say before he used his forearm to wipe off some sweat forming on his brow. 

Just from sitting there for almost twenty minutes, he had looked like he had run a marathon, drenched in sweat and now … panting like a damn dog. It was so attractive you didn’t know what to do. Of course, you still loved him, we’ve established that. You’d do anything to get back with him and get one more chance to prove you aren’t money-hungry. But you wanted to do it if he wanted it, and you wanted to do it if he asked. You couldn’t take advantage of him, even if seeing him this aroused made you wet.

“They’re laced from a bachelorette party,” you explained quietly, slowly inching your way back to the couch to sit as far away from him as possible.

“That why they were in the butter dish?” He asked, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes. 

“Yes- did you seriously look through my butter dish?” A frown appeared on your lips before you shook your head, “Anyways. I’m really sorry. If you want you can go to the bathroom and … relieve yourself. I won’t judge.”

A few silent seconds passed before Toji moved his head to stare at you. It was pure lust, sure, but mixed into the lust was admiration. It was as if he was staring at you for the first time in a hundred years and seeing you for your soul. No one had looked at you like that, especially not Toji fucking Zenin. 

He blinked a few times and looked away, “Yeah… I should,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. Sweat marks lined his black shirt and you swore that they hadn’t been there before. 

“But,” a curious and sly expression came back to face you, “I’ve been missing you.”

You let out a breath, “That’s just the aphrodisiac talking.” 

He raised an eyebrow and moved his leg that had been crossed down to man spread a bit more than he had before. He was hard! Wow almost like we expected that, right audience? You glanced down at his bulge and for a moment you could picture exactly how it looked in your hands. But he cleared his throat and your eyes snapped back to your ex-husbands.

“So the aphro… whatever-s been making me miss you even before today?” 

He… missed you? Toji Zenin, the heartless man you managed to hurt… missed you? The man who divorced you because you cared more about money than your own family… missed you? 

That was the thing that made you realize you had completely soaked your underwear as you felt it uncomfortably cling deep into your cunt. You shifted around and pressed your lips together tightly. 

Of course, you missed him. Of course, you wanted him! Of course, you wanted your family back! 

“You miss me? Even after the shitty things I’ve done?” Your voice was barely above a whisper but you weren’t even sure he heard it over the throbbing of your heart. 

Your ex-husband nodded and looked down at his lap, “I haven’t been with anyone else in almost six years because I thought there’d be a chance you’d come back.” 

The puzzle clicked into your head and in that moment you felt like the most stupid person in the world. It wasn’t you who was waiting for the first move, but it was him. Toji, the one who was forward -the one who started your relationship by approaching you in that bar- wanted you to make the first move. And you were completely blind to see it. 

“I… was too scared to come back after treating you like that. I always thought if you wanted me back, you’d come back,” with that you laughed hollowly, but the laugh was cut short when you felt the couch's weight shift around. 

Within a second Toji was facing you then on top of you. His body hovered over yours with his face just watching you. It was completely different than the sex-hungry Toji you had married. Yeah you loved each other and you had romantic sex, but it wasn’t to this extent. He looked at you with five years' worth of lust and love. He hadn’t been with anyone since you, he hadn’t touched anyone, he hadn’t tasted anyone. Because… he was waiting for you. 

“I’ve been craving you, princess,” he whispered, “I haven’t been able to touch myself without thinking of you…” One of his hands slowly moved to your right side, cupping your waist and sliding to the top of your hip, “I should have never let you go.” 

You nodded slowly, letting one hand snake up to the back of his neck, “I want another chance. I want to make it better.”

Toj breathed out and a laugh followed suit. You had never seen him this incredibly desperate before. You had never seen him stare at you as if you were the only woman in the world and you never wanted it to stop. 

“Make it better and kiss me, doll,” was all he said before you did as he asked. Your lips melded together in a way that they hadn’t in several years. It was instant muscle memory, with his taste and his soft lips making your core ache for penetration. 

But it was different. He didn’t deepen the kiss at first, instead, he took his time to suck on your bottom lip. Toji wanted to taste you and savor you until there was nothing left to taste and savor. He wanted you to intoxicate him until he passed out. Even if he had never taken that aphrodisiac, his feelings would have never changed. Sure, they wouldn’t have been as sexual but where's the fun in that?

You felt a guttural moan pass your lips when he tilted his head to the right to deepen the kiss, and you heard him snicker. God you missed how cocky he would get and it seemed as if nothing had changed. His hands hadn’t changed either. They dipped into the hem of your sweatpants and traced the soft skin of your stomach. 

Toji had always loved how your stomach hung out of your body. It was a sign you had birthed two beautiful joys. And it was a sign you were capable of creating more joy with him and only him. He loved to bite and kiss every stretch mark and mole, every fiber of fat, even if he’d never say it out loud. 

Now he was too busy taking your mouth against his to speak about how beautiful your body was. One of his hands pulled down your sweatpants and the other pulled down your underwear. Your head was swimming from arousal you hadn’t noticed his hands pushing your legs open. But you did notice when he pulled away from your kiss. A trail of slobber dripped from his chin and onto your aching cunt. 

He knew exactly what you liked. I mean, you were married for almost ten years. He knew how delicate you wanted him to start, even if he’d groan and complain while doing it. Toji was always gentle when he began to stimulate your vulva. 

Two fingers ran down your slit before pulling back your lips and letting him use his tongue. Fuck, how you loved it when he fucked you with his long tongue. You didn’t know where he got that magical talent from but you weren’t complaining. Toji’s tongue slid from your clit down into your center, focussing on sliding his tongue back and forth against you. Your breath hitched at the sudden sensation. 

It didn’t take him long before he was circling back and sucking on your swollen clit. His mouth was made from gods and he used it to please you. Your hands trailed up your own body to grab onto one of your breasts. If he wasn’t going to stimulate your nipples then you were going to yourself. One hand slid underneath your cardigan to pinch the pink nub and roll it under your fingers. 

“Toji…mm-fu..fuck,” you breathed out, rolling your hips against his face which was completely stuffed into your pussy. Toji would tell you straight up he enjoyed eating you out for his pleasure, not anything else. Sure, he wanted you to cum, but he wanted to be able to taste you cum even more. 

He wanted to feel you squirt in his face and drink it up. Even if you thought it tasted bad he relished in it. And god did he miss this. He missed playing with your cunt until you were sore. He could just cum from eating you out and Toji was getting close. Just sinking in the tip of his cock in your folds at this rate would completely milk him. 

Toji pulled his face back to wipe off his mouth with the back of his hand, “Do you want me to fuck you… or would you prefer I make you squirt?” His voice was even more perfect than you could’ve remembered, and hearing it through your ringing ears made it more heavenly. 

“...Both,” you whispered, looking down at him with one eye closed and a smile pressed against your lips. 

He blinked a few times then grinned, “That’s my girl,” and he went nose-first into your center. It took him a few seconds to pry one hand from your thighs to pump inside you. At this point, you were accustomed to two fingers being the minimum for Toji, and that’s what he promised. 

Two fingers gently pushed inside of you but didn’t stay gentle for long. The last knuckle on his index and middle finger curled, followed by the second to create a motion he knew would touch your g-spot. Toji slowly moved them in and out, and in and out, and in and out. With each thrust of his hand, it got faster and you could feel a sensation rising in your lower body. 

Toji knew the only way to truly get you close was multiple ways of stimulation. So he’d typically eat you out, finger you, and massage your nipples. Thankfully you were taking care of your breasts which left your pussy to him. He ate you out like a starving man on death row whose last meal was something he hadn’t eaten in ten years with an endless supply. 

The sensation rising in your core hasn’t been talked about enough, huh? You felt it build directly inside your walls, as your G-spot was stimulated. Then it moved further out to your clit, then down your thighs and legs. Before it rushed over your head and made you throw it back in a loud moan. You were getting close and you couldn’t even verbalize it. But Toji knew exactly what to look out for to know when you were close. And he could tell when you were about to squirt. 

And you were about to squirt. 

“T-T…hah fu-fuck Toji,” you groaned, letting go of one of your breasts to grab a fist full of his hair. He didn’t say anything so as not to disrupt the magic he was brewing in your nether regions (ba dum tss). 

He bobbed his head up and down a few times and tempted fate by adding in a third finger. It wasn’t so much that you couldn’t take it, but more so that he knew exactly what it was going to do. Within a few seconds, you gasped and let out a loud moan, with a shudder running through your body. Another shudder and you felt yourself release on him. It was one thing to squirt and not feel it, but it was another to feel the sensation of releasing your liquids. 

It jutted out of your pussy and onto your grinning ex-husband's face. He laughed a bit and wiped his mouth with his forearm, before going down and licking up your juices on your thighs and a bit on your clit. 

“H-hey,” you whimpered, nudging his forehead as he started to eat you out again, “You’re getting distracted…” 

Toji blinked a few times before sitting up and looking down at your shaking body, “Shame this couch is white…” He shrugged, reaching one of his hands out to grab your shoulder. Both hands grabbed your shoulders and gently turned you around so you were lying on your stomach, with a pillow added to your front to make sure you were comfortable. 

You heard a belt unbuckle then some shifting as he undid his pants and then underwear. Toji knew you enough to know you were on birth control, so condoms weren’t a concern of his. You both had a breeding kink, who doesn’t? He loved the feeling of filling you up with his cum until he was completely dry, and it wouldn’t take him very long to finish at this rate. 

“I’m gonna go in,” he whispered, patting your hip. 

Then before you could speak, but let’s be honest you were completely gone by this point, you felt a swollen tip press against your folds. You didn’t even get a moan in before you heard a faint… whimper from Toji. He cleared his throat and thrust in fully, gasping and leaning forward against your body involuntarily. 

“I… haven’t fucked anyone in six ye…years,” he gasped again. Any other movement and he’d cum instantly. So much for hot rough sex. But still, he was determined to fuck you until you came again. 

“Me… either…” You murmured into the couch, letting your eyes close against the wet cushion. A wet cushion you would be dealing with tomorrow. 

“God. I missed you. I missed you so much,” Toji repeated a few more times, straightening his posture and fastening both hands to your hips. He pulled back and slowly began to thrust. Not for your sake but for the fact he wanted to elongate this feeling as much as possible. 

His thrusts got a bit faster and his grip tighter, “...I’m… mm gonna fill y-you with my seed. I-I want anothe…mm fuc-fuck another b…hah…. Baby.” That was all you needed to hear. 

A family, you’d be starting another family together. Too bad you were on birth control. But for now, you could pretend this would be the start of your new family. It turned you on as much as it made you happy. The man you loved, loved, and wanted a family with you. God, that was nice. And what was even nicer was the fact he was beginning to rail you. 

Six years was six years too long. You ached for him to fill you up with fat, hot spurts of his white cum. You wanted him to stuff you to the point where you leaked and cried for it to end. You needed him to impregnate you so you both would be together for the rest of your lives. 

You needed Toji to be yours now. 

Toji was getting close, it was obvious by the way he thrust and the way he cursed. It was sloppier than his typical sloppy strokes and his voice got a bit higher than normal. That’s when you knew he was overstimulated and about to burst at any given moment. You wanted to speak and scream for him to fill you up, but the only thing you could do was mindlessly beg into the air. Neither of you seemed to hear or notice each other's words as he… came. 

You never heard Mr. Zenin full-on whimper until that day. It was clear it came out accidentally from how his hips jutted forward and he pulled you instantly to him. He whimpered out a loud “I love you” and whined as his cum shot out. It filled you up more than you remembered he used to. His whimpers weren’t very high-pitched but they were pathetic. It was the cries from a man who hadn’t fucked in almost six years, and the cries of a man who missed your pussy so much.

If you ever get the chance to make a buff, deep-voiced, grown man whimper, I highly encourage it. 

Toji slid out of your cunt and flopped back onto the couch, leaving you for a moment to lie with your ass in the air. You were so tired you didn’t even notice when he grabbed you from behind and pulled you to his chest. His warm arms wrapped protectively around you and for once you felt as though everything had gone back to normal. 

Toji Zenin would be Toji Fushiguro again. 

[imdead770]

The Outsiders x Reader Headcannons

♡ Random things the gang would do if you dated them ♡

Darry -

He's fixing everything for you. Your shelf broke? Give him 15 minutes. Your car broke? He'll get Sodapop to fix it up for you. Your heart broke? He's fixing it. This man is Fix-it Felix.

♡

I feel like he wouldn't be the biggest PDA guy, but if you're both alone, he's probably holding you in some way shape or form. Your back against his chest, your head on his shoulder with his arm around you, it's happening and he's perfectly happy with it.

Sodapop -

I don't know why, but I feel like Sodapop picked a specific night for both of you to just spend time together and relax. Probably a Saturday night since he won't have to worry about work. It's just a night where you sit together, eat ice cream, and watch a movie. He'll hold you and quietly talk to you, randomly peppering kisses on your face.

^ this makes me so lovesick holy shit ^

♡

This man is HUGE on pda. He'll hold your hand, have his arm around your waist, kiss your forehead. As long as you're comfortable with it, he'll shower you with affection 25/8

Ponyboy -

He WILL watch sunsets with you. He'll take your hand, run you outside to his porch and sit on the steps with you. Your head rested on his shoulder with his arm around your waist.

" You were right Pony.. it's beautiful.. "

" Not as beautiful as you.. "

I know it's cliche but stfu

♡

I feel like he isn't really used to PDA, so he doesn't really initiate it. But the moment you do anything, from holding his jaw as you kiss him to entertwining your fingers with his, his heart melts. With a bit of time, he'll return the favor, he just needs to get comfortable.

Johnny -

I don't know if this is accurate, but I feel like he'd bring you flowers. No reason, he just wanted to bring his girl flowers. He'll bring you your favorite if he can. If he can't find some he'll pick the prettiest ones he can find. You had to buy a vase for just how often he brings you flowers.

♡

We all know this boy is shy, but I feel like once he warms up to you PDA is just normal. Not big PDA like Soda, but he likes holding your hand in public. In private he'll hold you against him, play with your hair, the whole thing.

Dallas -

He takes you to so many of Buck's parties it's not even funny. You're bored? He'll take you to go dance. You're stressed? He'll sit at the bar and drink with you. You don't drink? Well shit.

☆ On the dancing note, he's not a huge dancer, but he'll stand beside you to make sure nobody steps out of line. He also 100% watches your ass while you sway your hips. Probably grinds if we're being honest.

♡

On the PDA side, he isn't big on it, in public or in private. Gotta maintain that tough guy image. He might have his hand in your back pocket or around your hip. In private he won't be big on it at first, but after a bit he might hold you. Not like hold-hold, but he'll put his arms around you.

Two-Bit -

I swear on my life, this man will throw the worst pick-up lines at you. He doesn't care that you're already dating, he'll do it.

" Yknow, if you were a vegetable, you’d be a cute-cumber. "

" Two-Bit, I love you, but shut the fuck up. "

♡

PDA wise, he'll do it. That's about it. He'll do it. He wouldn't make out with you on the spot, but he'll hold you, kiss you on the cheek, whatever. He'll do it.

Steve -

He'd try to bake with you. This isn't a regular thing, but I think since he likes chocolate cake so damn much, he'd decide to make it. He just decided to bring you along for the ride. To summarize it, it was a mess.

" Steve.. when did that milk expire? "

" Says.. December, why? "

" What year, Steve. "

" ... Ohhh.. "

♡

This mf is just a leveled-down Dallas ( in the best way possible ). He acts all tough/tuff but would do subtle acts. Hands around your waist, intertwining his fingers with yours, the basics. In private he'd definitely hold you, though.

I love them all so much

[crownofgildedlilies]

sunnie's holiday writing special

december 1-5:

ejiriou kirishima - lazy days

The day off usually means running errands, but not when it's too cold outside. wc. 1.5k

katsuki bakugou - sick days

Katsuki is sick, which means forcing him to slow down. wc. 1.9k

shouta aizawa - late nights

Shouta really ought to expel whoever told Eri that Santa comes every night in December... wc. 3.7k

izuku midoriya - christmas ornament

Izuku really is a perfectionist, even when it comes to decorating for the holidays. wc. 1.6k

tamaki amajiki - hot chocolate

A lot can change in a year, but never Tamaki and hot chocolate. wc. 2.0k

december 6-10:

hanta sero - matching pajamas

Hanta proves everything is just better in matching pajamas. wc. 2.2k

tomura shigaraki - stormed in

Who knew Tomura’s worst nightmare was an apartment and a snow storm? wc. 2.5k

shouto todoroki - snowman

Shouto can’t quite understand the point of making snowmen, but he’s still having fun. wc. 1.3k

denki kaminari - christmas lights

Denki Kaminari should never be put in charge of making plans. wc. 2.2k

eijirou kirishima - snowball fight

There’s nothing more manly than showing off in a snowball fight, right? wc. 1.3k

december 11-15:

touya todoroki - first snow

touya can’t stand the cold, but he’s more stubborn than he’d ever admit. wc. 1.4k

izuku midoriya - fake dating

Izuku really needs a favor. wc. 2.8k

shouto todoroki - fireplace

a mission goes wrong, and a cabin in the mountains becomes a safe house. wc. 1.7k

keigo takami - christmas shopping

keigo is a busy man, but it’s the holiday season, after all. wc. 1.4k

katsuki bakugou - gingerbread house

delicate gingerbread and a hot temper? Katsuki’s in trouble. wc. 1.2k

december 16-20:

shouta aizawa - holiday party

shouta contemplates the possibility of expelling his coworkers. 

hanta sero - mistletoe

hanta has an incredible amount of mistletoe, for some reason.

tamaki amajiki - secret santa

tamaki wants to go home, but he promised to help.

denki kaminari - blackout

no power? no problem! denki kaminari to the rescue. 

shouta aizawa - christmas dinner

shouta can’t keep a secret. or rather, others can’t keep his secrets. 

december 21-25:

keigo takami - traditions

tba!

hitoshi shinsou - cookies

tba!

izuku midoriya - presents

tba!

touya todoroki - first christmas

tba!

katsuki bakugou - ???

tba!

extras...

I'll be making a taglist for this! let me know if you want to be added

a lot of this is prewritten, so (fingers crossed) I should be able to stay on schedule!

every 5 days I'll release the next set of previews

I love christmas.

LOVE christmas

thank you for even reading this far!

HAPPY HOLIDAYS

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 5: Artemis, Goddess Of The Hunt]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 6.6k

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

“So you smoked grass in college,” Aegon says, pondering you with glazed eyes as he slurps his cherry-flavored Mr. Misty. You’re in Biloxi, Mississippi where Aemond is making speeches and meeting with locals to commemorate the first summer of the beaches being desegregated after a decade of peaceful protests and violent white supremacist backlash. Route 90 runs right along the sand dunes. If you walked out of this Dairy Queen, you could look south and see the Gulf of Mexico, placid dark ripples gleaming with moonshine. “And swore, and had a boyfriend, and presumably, what, did shots? Skipped class on occasion?”

“Yeah,” you admit, smiling sheepishly, remembering. You stretch out your fingers. “I chewed gum, I talked during mass. And I loved black nail polish. The nuns would beat my knuckles with rulers, I always had bruises. I wore these flowing skirts down to my ankles and knee-high boots. My hair was a mess, long and blowing around everywhere. My friends and I would do each other’s makeup, silver glitter and purple shadow, pencil on a ridiculous amount of eyeliner and then smudge it out. If you saw a photo you wouldn’t recognize me.”

Aegon takes a drag on his Lucky Strike cigarette, weightless smoke and the tired yellowish haze of florescent lights. Buffalo Springfield’s For What It’s Worth is playing from the Zenith radio on the counter by the cash register. “I’d recognize you.”

“I used to skip this one class all the time. The professor was a demon. I could do the math, but not the way he wanted me to. Right solution, wrong steps, I don’t know. I learned it differently in high school, and I couldn’t figure out the formula he wanted me to use. So he’d mark everything a zero even if my answer was correct. I couldn’t stand that bastard. Then the nuns kept catching me sunbathing on the quad when I was supposed to be in Matrices and Vector Spaces. I racked up so many demerits they were going to revoke my weekend pass, and then I wouldn’t be able to go into the city with my friends. So I stole the demerit book and burned it up on the stove in my dorm. Almost set the whole building on fire.”

Aegon is laughing. “You did not. Not you, not perfect ever-obedient Miss America!”

“I did. I really did.” You sip your own Mr. Misty, lemon-lime. Across the restaurant, Criston and Fosco are eating banana splits—dripping chocolate syrup and melted ice cream all over their table—and passionately debating who is going to end up in the World Series; Criston favors the Cardinals and the Orioles, Fosco says the Red Sox and the Cubs. The rest of the Targaryen family is back at the hotel watching news coverage of the Republican National Convention, something you can only stomach so much of, Otto’s cynical commentary, Aemond’s remaining eye fixed fiercely on the screen as he nips at an Old Fashioned. “I was wild back then.”

“And you gave it all up to be Aemond’s first lady.”

You think back to where it started: palm trees, salt water, alligators in drainage ditches. “My father grew up in a shack outside of Tallahassee. No electricity, no running water, he dropped out of school in eighth grade to help take care of his siblings when his mom died. They moved south to live with their aunt in Tampa, and my father wound up in Tarpon Springs working as a sea sponge diver.”

Aegon’s eyebrows rise, like he thinks you’re teasing him. “Sea sponges…?”

“I’m serious! It paid better than picking oranges or sweeping up in a factory. It’s dangerous. You have to wear this heavy rubber suit and walk around on the ocean floor, sometimes 50 feet or more below the surface.”

“What do people do with sea sponges?”

“Oh right, you would be unfamiliar. You’re supposed to clean yourself with them, like a loofah. Soap? Water? Ringing any bells?”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “You’re a very mean person. Aren’t you supposed to be setting an example for the merciful wives and daughters of this great nation?”

“Painters and potters buy sponges too. And some women use them as contraceptives. You can soak them in lemon juice and then shove them up there and it kills sperm.”

“I suddenly have great appreciation for the sea sponge industry. God bless the sea sponges.”

“So my father spent a few years diving, and he fell in love with a girl who worked at one of the shops he sold sponges to. That was my mother. They got married when he had absolutely nothing, and by their fifth anniversary he had his own fleet of boats, a gift shop, and a processing and shipping facility, all of which they owned jointly. They just opened the Spongeorama Sponge Factory this past April, a cute little tourist trap. But my point is that they were partners from the start. My father listens to my mother, and she works alongside him, and it was never like what I’ve seen from my friends’ parents: dad at the office 80 hours a week, mom at home strung out on Valium, just these…deeply separate, cold planets locked in orbit but never touching each other. I knew I didn’t want that. I wanted a husband who was building something I could be a part of. I wanted a man who respected me.”

Aegon watches you as he lights a fresh cigarette, not saying what you imagine he wants to: And how is that working out? He puffs on his Lucky Strike a few times and then offers it to you. You aren’t supposed to smoke, not even tobacco—it’s not ladylike, it’s masculine, it’s subversive—but you take it and hold it between your index and middle fingers, inhaling an ashy bitterness that blood learns to crave. The bracelets on your wrist jangle, thin silver chains that match the diamonds in your ears. Your dress is mint green, your hair in your signature Brigitte Bardot-inspired updo. Aegon is wearing a black t-shirt with The Who stamped across the front. When you pass the cigarette back to him, Aegon asks: “What music did you listen to? The Stones, The Animals?”

“Yeah. And Hendrix, The Kinks, Aretha Franklin…”

“Phil Ochs?”

“I love him. He’s got a song about Mississippi, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware. It’s one of my favorites.”

“And I’m currently getting a little obsessed with Loretta Lynn. She’s so angry!”

“She’s sanctimonious, that’s what she is. Always bitching about men.”

“Six kids and an alcoholic husband will do that to someone.”

Aegon winces, and then you realize what you’ve said. Loretta Lynn sounds a lot like Mimi. He finishes his Mr. Misty and then fidgets restlessly with his white cardboard cup, spinning it around by the straw. You feel bad, though you shouldn’t. You wouldn’t have a month ago.

“Aegon,��� you say gently, and he reluctantly looks up at you, sunburned cheeks, blonde hair shagging over his eyes. “Why do you ignore your children? They’re interesting, they’re fun. Violeta invited me to help her make cakes with her Easy-Bake Oven last week. And Cosmo…he’s so clever. But it’s like he doesn’t know who you are. He might actually think Fosco’s his dad.”

Aegon takes one last drag off his cigarette and discards the end of it in his Mr. Misty cup. Now he’s fiddling with it again, avoiding your gaze. “I don’t have much to offer them.”

“I think you do.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do,” you insist. “You can be kind of nice sometimes.”

He frowns, staring out the window. You know he can’t see anything but darkness and streetlights. “I should have been the one to go to Vietnam. If somebody had to get shot at so Aemond could be president, I was the right choice. No one would miss me. No one would mourn me. Daeron didn’t deserve that. But I was too old, so Otto and my father got him to enlist. Now he’s in the jungle and my mother has nightmares about Western Union telegrams. If I was the son over there, I think she’d sleep easier.”

I’m glad you’re still here, you think. Instead you say: “Your children need you.”

“No they don’t. Between me and Mimi, they’re better off as orphans. Helaena and Fosco can be their parents. Maybe they’ll have a fighting chance.”

The glass door opens, and a man walks into the Dairy Queen with his two sons scampering behind him, all with sandy flip flops and carrying fishing rods. The dad is at least six feet tall and brawny, and wearing a Wallace For President baseball cap. You and Aegon both notice it, then share an amused, disparaging glance. You mouth: Imbecile bigot. The man continues to the cash register and orders two chocolate shakes and a root beer float. At their own table, Criston is mopping up melted ice cream with napkins and telling Fosco to stop being such a pig.

“Me?!” Fosco says. “You are the pig, that spot there is your ice cream, do not blame your failings on poor Fosco. I have already let you drag me to this terrible state and never once complained about the fried food or the mosquitos. And that thing out there is not a real beach. The water is still and brown, brown!”

“For once in your life, pretend you have a work ethic and help me clean up the table.”

“You are being very anti-immigrant right now, do you know that?”

Aegon begins singing, ostensibly to himself. “Here’s to the state of Mississippi, for underneath her borders, the devil draws no lines.”

“Aegon, no,” you whisper, petrified. You know this song. You know where he’s going.

He’s beaming as he continues: “If you drag her muddy rivers, nameless bodies you will find.”

Now the man in the Wallace hat is looking at Aegon. His sons are happily gulping down their chocolate shakes. Criston and Fosco, still bickering, haven’t noticed yet.

“Oh, the fat trees of the forest have hid a thousand crimes.”

“Aegon, don’t,” you plead quietly. “He’ll murder you.”

“The calendar is lyin’ when it reads the present time.”

“Hey,” calls the man in the Wallace For President hat. “You got a problem, boy?”

Aegon drums his palms on the tabletop as he sings, loudly now: “Oh, here’s to the land you’ve torn out the heart of, Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of!”

In seconds, the man has crossed the room, grabbed Aegon by the collar of his t-shirt, yanked him out of his chair and struck him across the face: closed fist, lethal intent, the sick wet sound of bones on flesh. Aegon’s nose gushes, his lip splits open, but he isn’t flinching away, he isn’t afraid. He’s yowling like a rabid animal and clawing, kicking, swinging at the giant who’s ensnared him. You are screaming as you leap to your feet, your chair falling over and clattering on the floor behind you. The man’s sons are hooting joyously. “Git him, Paw!” one of them shouts.

“Criston?!” you shriek, but he and Fosco are already here, tugging at the man’s massive arms and beating on his back, trying to untangle him from Aegon.

“Stop!” Criston roars. “You don’t want to hurt him! He’s a Targaryen!”

“A Targaryen, huh?” the man says as he steps away, wiping the blood from his knuckles on his tattered white t-shirt, stained with fish guts. “All the better. I wish that bullet they put in Aemond woulda been just another inch to the left. Directly through the aorta.”

Aegon lunges at the man again, hissing, fists swinging. Fosco yanks him back.

“Are you gonna call someone or not?!” Criston snaps at the girl behind the cash register, but she only gives him a steely glare in return. This is Wallace country. There’s a reason why it took four years after the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to finally desegregate the beaches.

“We should go,” you tell Criston softly.

“Yes, we will leave now,” Fosco says, hauling Aegon towards the front door. Then, to the cashier: “Thank you for the ice cream, but it was not very good. If you are ever in Italy, try the gelato. You will learn so much.”

“I can’t wait ‘til November,” the man gloats, ominous, threatening. His sons are standing tall and proud beside him. “When Aemond loses, you can all cart your asses back to Europe. We don’t want you here. America ain’t for people like you.”

“It literally is,” you say, unable to stop yourself. “It’s on the Statue of Liberty.”

“Yeah, where do you think your ancestors came from?!” Aegon yells at the man. “Are you a Seminole, pal? I didn’t think so—!” Fosco and Criston lug him through the doorway before more punches can be thrown.

Outside—under stars and streetlights and a full moon—Aegon burst out laughing. This is when he feels alive; this is when the blood in his veins turns to wave and riptides. You didn’t think to grab napkins from the table, so you wipe the blood off his face with your bare hand, assessing the damage. He’ll be fine; swollen and sore, but fine.

“You’re insane, you know that?” you say. “You could have been killed.”

Aegon pats your cheek twice and grins, blood on his teeth. “The world would keep spinning, little Io.” Then he starts walking back towards the White House Hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~

When the four of you arrive at your suite, Aemond, Otto, Ludwika, and Alicent are still gathered around the television. The nannies have taken the children to bed. Helaena is reading The Bell Jar in an armchair in the corner of the room. Mimi is passed out on the couch, several empty glasses on the coffee table. ABC is showing a clip they recorded earlier today of Ludwika travelling with Aemond’s retinue after he made an impassioned speech condemning the lack of recognition of the evils of slavery at Beauvoir, the historic home of former Confederate president Jefferson Davis. The reporter is asking Ludwika what she thinks makes Aemond a better presidential candidate than Eugene McCarthy, as McCarthy shares many of the same policy positions and has an additional 15 years of political experience.

“This McCarthy is not a real man,” Ludwika responds, her face stony and mistrustful. “He reminds me of the communists back in my country. Did you know he met with Che Guevara in New York City a few years ago? Why would he do such a thing?”

Now, Otto turns to her in this hotel room. “I love you.”

Ludwika takes a sip of her martini. “I want another Gucci bag.”

“Yes, yes. Tomorrow, my dear.”

“What happened to you?” Aemond asks his brother, half-exasperated and half-concerned. Criston has fetched a washcloth from the bathroom for Aegon to hold against his bleeding lip and nose. Aemond is still wearing his blue suit from a long day of campaigning, but he’s taken out his eye and put on his eyepatch. His gaze flicks from Aegon’s face to the blood still coating your left hand. On the couch, Mimi’s bare foot twitches but she doesn’t wake up.

“There was a Wallace supporter at the Dairy Queen,” you say. “Aegon felt inspired to defend you.”

Aemond chuckles. “Did you win?” he asks Aegon.

“I would have if the guy wasn’t two of me.”

On the television screen, Richard Nixon is accepting his party’s nomination for president at the Republican National Convention in Miami, Florida.

“He’s a buffoon,” Otto sneers. “So awkward and undignified. Look at him sweating! Look at those ridiculous jowls! And he comes from nothing. His family is trash.”

“Americans love a rags to riches story,” you say. And then, somewhat randomly: “He loves his wife. He proposed to Pat on their very first date, and she said no. So he drove her to dates with other men for years until she finally reconsidered. He said it was love at first sight. He’s never had a mistress. And jowls or no jowls, his family adores him.”

Aegon turns to you, still clutching the washcloth against his face. “Really?”

You nod. “That’s the sort of thing the women talk about.”

There’s a knock at the door. You all look at each other, confounded; no one has ordered room service, no one is expecting any visitors, and the nannies have keys in the event of an emergency. Fosco is closest to the door, so he opens it. A man in uniform is standing there with a golden Western Union telegram in his hands. Alicent screams and collapses. Criston bolts to her.

“It’s okay,” you say. “He’s not dead. Whatever happened, Daeron’s not dead.”

Otto crinkles his brow at you. “How do you know?”

“Because if he was killed, there would be a priest here too.” They always send a priest when the boy is dead. Aegon glances at you, eyes wet and fearful.

“Ma’am,” the soldier—a major you see now, spotting the golden oak leaves—says to Alicent as he removes his cap. “I regret to inform you that your son Daeron was missing in action for several weeks, and we’ve just received confirmation that he’s being held as a prisoner of war in Hỏa Lò Prison.”

“He’s in the Hanoi Hilton?!” Otto exclaims. “Oh, fuck those people and their swamp, how did Kennedy ever think we had something to gain from getting tangled up in that mess?”

“But he’s alive?” Aemond says. “He’s unharmed?”

“Yes sir,” the captain replies. “It is our understanding that he is in good condition. The North Vietnamese are aware that he is a very valuable prisoner, like Admiral McCain’s son John. He’ll be used in negotiations. He is of far more use to them alive than dead.”

“So we can get Daeron back,” Aegon says. “I mean, we have to be able to, right? Aemond’s running for president, he’ll probably win in November, we have millions of dollars, we can spring one man out of some third-world jail, right?”

The captain continues: “Tomorrow when your family returns to New Jersey, the Joint Chiefs of Staff will be there to discuss next steps with you. I’m afraid I’m only authorized to give you the news as it was relayed to me.” He entrusts the telegram to Otto, who rapidly opens it and stares down at the mechanical typewriter words.

“I have to pray,” Alicent says suddenly. “Helaena, will you pray with me? There’s a Greek church down the road. Holy Trinity, I think it’s called.”

Obediently, Helaena joins her mother and follows her to the doorway. Criston leaves with them. Otto gives his new wife a harsh, meaningful stare. Ludwika, an ardent yet covert atheist, sighs irritably. “Wait. I want to pray too,” she says, and vanishes with them into the hall.

As the captain departs, Mimi sits up on the couch, blinking, groggy. “What? What happened?”

“Go with Alicent,” Otto tells her. “She’s headed downstairs.”

“What? Why…?”

“Just go!” he barks.

Mimi staggers to her feet and hobbles out of the hotel room, her sundress—patterned with forget-me-nots—billowing around her. The only people left are Otto, Aemond, Fosco, Aegon, and you. The fact that you are the sole woman permitted to remain here feels intentional.

After a moment, Otto speaks. “You know, John McCain has famously refused to be released from the Hanoi Hilton until all the men imprisoned before him have been freed. He doesn’t want special treatment. And that’s a very noble thing to do, don’t you think? It has endeared him and the McCains to the public.”

Aemond and Otto are looking at each other, communicating in a silent language not of letters or accents but colors: red ambition, green hunger, grey impassionate morality. Fosco is observing them uneasily. Aemond says at last: “Daeron wants to help this family.”

“You’re not going to try to get him out.” Aegon realizes.

Aemond turns to him, businesslike, vague distant sympathy. “It’s only until November.”

“No, you know people!” Aegon explodes. “You pick up the phone, you call in every favor, you get him out of there now! You have no idea if he has another three months, you don’t know what kind of shape he’s in! They could be dislocating his arms or chopping off his fingers right now, they could be starving him, they could be beating him, you can’t just leave him there!”

“It’s not your decision. It could have been, had you accepted your role as the eldest son. But you didn’t. So it’s my job to handle these things. You don’t get to hate me for making choices you were too cowardly too take responsibility for.”

“But Daeron could die,” Aegon says, his voice going brittle.

“Any of us could die. We’re in a very dangerous line of work. Greatness killed Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley, Huey Long, Medgar Evers, John F. Kennedy, Malcolm X, Vernon Dahmer, Martin Luther King Jr., does that mean we should all give up the fight? Of course not. The work isn’t finished. We have to keep going.”

“Will you stop pretending this is about America?! This is about you wanting to be president, and everything you’ve ever done has been in pursuit of that trophy, and you keep shoving new people into the line of fire and it’s not right!”

“Aegon,” Otto says calmly. “It’s unlikely we’d be able to get him out before the election anyway. Negotiations take time. But if Aemond wins in November, he’ll be in a very advantageous position. The North Vietnamese aren’t stupid. They wouldn’t kill the brother of a U.S. president. They don’t want their vile little corner of the world flattened by nukes.”

“Still, it feels so wrong to leave a brother in peril,” Fosco says. “It is unnatural. Of course Aegon will be upset. We could at least see what a deal to get Daeron released would entail, maybe his arrival home would be a good headline—”

“And who the fuck asked you?” Otto demands, and Fosco goes quiet.

“Okay, then tell Mom,” Aegon says to Aemond. “Tell her you’re going to pretend Daeron made some self-sacrificial vow not to come home until all the other POWs can too. Tell her you’re going to let him get tortured for a few months before you take this seriously.”

Aemond replies cooly: “Why would you want to upset her? She can’t change it. You’ll only make her suffering worse.”

“What do you think?” Otto asks you, and you know that he isn’t seeking counsel. He’s summoning you like a dog to perform a trick, like an actor to recite a line. He’s waiting for you to say that it’s a smart strategy, because it is. He’s waiting for you to bend to Aemond’s will as your station requires you to, as moons are bound to their planets.

“I think it’s wrong,” you murmur; and Aemond is thunderstruck by your treason.

Without another word, you walk into the bathroom, turn on the sink, and gaze down at Aegon’s blood on your palm. For some reason, it’s very difficult to bring yourself to wash it away.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s mid-August now, the world painted in goldenrod yellow and sky blue. The Democratic National Convention is in two weeks. You and Aemond are posing on the beach at Asteria, surrounded by an adoring gaggle of journalists who are snapping photographs and jotting down quotes on their notepads. You’re sitting demurely on a sand dune, you’re building sandcastles with the children you borrowed from Aegon and Helaena, you’re flying kites, you’re gazing confidently into the sunlit horizon where a glorious new age is surely dawning.

“Mr. Targaryen, what is it that makes your partnership so successful?” a journalist asks as flashbulbs pulse like lightning. “What do you think is the most crucial characteristic to have in a wife?”

Aemond doesn’t need to consider this before he answers. He always has his compliment picked out. “Loyalty,” your husband says. “Not just to me or to the Targaryen family, but to our shared cause. This year has been indescribably difficult for me and my wife. I announced my candidacy, we embarked on a strenuous national campaign that we’re currently only halfway through, I barely survived a brutal assassination attempt in May, in July we lost our first child to hyaline membrane disease after he was born six weeks prematurely, and at the beginning of this month we learned that my youngest brother Daeron was taken by the North Vietnamese as a prisoner of war. To find the strength not just to get out of bed in the morning, not just to be there for me and this family in our personal lives, but to tirelessly traverse the country with me inspiring Americans to believe in a better future…it’s absolutely remarkable. I’m in awe of her. And when she is the first lady of the United States, she will continue to amaze us all with her unwavering faith and dedication.”

There are whistles and cheers and strobing flashbulbs. You smile—elegant, soft, practiced—as Aemond rests a hand firmly on your waist. You lean into him, feeling out-of-place, bewildered that you’ve ever slept with him, full of dull panic that soon you’ll have to again.

“How about you, Mrs. Targaryen?” another reporter asks. “Same question, essentially. What is the trait that you most admire in your husband?”

And in the cascading clicks of photographs being captured, your mind goes entirely blank. You can think of so many other people—Aegon, Ari, Alicent, Daeron, Fosco, Cosmo—but not Aemond. It’s like you’ve blocked him out somehow, like he’s a sketch you erased. But you can’t hesitate. You can’t let the uncertainty read on your face. You begin speaking without knowing where you’re going, something that is rare for you. “Aemond is the most tenacious person I’ve ever met. When he has a goal in mind, nothing can stop him.” You pause, and there are a few awkward chuckles from the journalists. You swiftly recover. “He never stops learning. He always knows the right thing to do or say. And what he wants more than anything is to serve the American people. Aemond won’t disappoint you. He’s not capable of it. He will do whatever it takes to make this country more prosperous, more peaceful, and more free.”

There are applause and gracious thank yous, but Aemond gives you a look—just for a second, just long enough that you can catch it—that warns you to get it together. Fifteen minutes later, he and the flock of reporters are headed to one of the guest houses to conduct a long-form interview. This will be the bulk of the article; you will appear in one or two photos, you will supply a few quotes. The rest of the story is Aemond. You are an accessory, like a belt or a bracelet. He’s the person who picks you out of a drawer each morning and wears you until you go out of fashion.

Released from your obligations, you return to the main house and disappear into your upstairs bathroom. You are there for fifteen minutes and emerge rattled, routed. You pace aimlessly around your bedroom for a while, then try again; still no luck. You go back outside and stare blankly at the ocean, wondering what you’re going to do. Down on the beach, Fosco is teaching the kids how to yo-yo. Ludwika is sunbathing in a bikini.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You whirl to see Aegon, popping a Valium into his mouth and washing it down with a splash of straight rum from a coffee mug. “Huh? Nothing. I’m great.”

“No, something’s wrong. You look lost. You look like me.”

You gaze out over the ocean again, chewing your lower lip.

Aegon snickers, fascinated, sensing a scandal. “What did you do?”

Your eyes drift to him. “You can’t make fun of me.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

There is a long, heavy lull before you answer. When you speak, it’s all in a rush, like you can’t unburden yourself of the words fast enough. “I put a tampon in and I can’t get it out.”

Aegon immediately breaks his promise and cackles. “You did what?!” Then he tries to be serious. “Wait. Sorry. Uh, really?”

You’re on the verge of tears. “I’ve been bleeding since I had the baby, and I hate using tampons, I almost never do, but Aemond wanted me to wear this dress for the photoshoot and it’s super gauzy and from certain angles I felt like I could see the pad bulge when I checked in the mirror, so I put a tampon in for the first time in probably a year. I’m not even supposed to be using them for another few weeks because my uterus isn’t healed all the way or whatever. And now I can’t get it out and it’s been in there for like six hours and I’m scared I’m going to get an infection and die in the most pointless, humiliating way imaginable.”

“Okay, calm down, calm down,” Aegon says. “There’s no string?”

“No, I’ve checked multiple times. It must be a defective one and they forgot to put a string in it at the factory and I didn’t notice, or the string somehow got tucked under it, I don’t know, but I can’t get it out, it’s like…the angle isn’t right. I can just barely feel it with my fingertips, but I can’t grab it. I’m going to have to go to the hospital to get it taken out, but I’m scared word will spread and journalists will show up to get photos when I leave and then everyone will be asking me why I was at the emergency room to begin with and I’m going to have to make up something and…and…” You can’t talk anymore. There are other reasons why you don’t want to go to the hospital. You haven’t stepped foot in one since Ari died; the thought makes you feel like you are looking down to see blood on your thighs all over again, like you’ll never have enough air in your lungs.

“Did you bleed through it? Because that should help it slide out easier.”

“I don’t know,” you moan miserably. “I mean, I guess I did, because there was blood when I checked a few minutes ago. I had to stuff my underwear with toilet paper.”

“Why didn’t you just tell Aemond you couldn’t wear this dress?”

You give him an impatient glance. “I’m tired of having the same conversation.” When do you think you’ll be done bleeding? When do you think it’ll be time to start trying again?

Aegon sighs. “Do you want me to get it out for you?”

“Please stop. I’m really panicking here.”

“I’m not joking.”

You stare at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I have fished many objects out of many orifices, you cannot shock me. I am unshockable.”

“I’d rather walk down to the sand right now and strangle myself with Fosco’s yo-yo.”

“Okay. So who are you gonna ask to drive you to the hospital?”

You hesitate.

“I’d offer to do it,” Aegon says, grinning, holding up his mug. “But I’m in no condition to drive.”

“But you are in the proper condition to extract a rogue tampon, huh?”

“Two minutes tops. That’s a guarantee. My personal best is fifteen seconds. And that was for a lost condom, much trickier to locate than a tampon.”

Perhaps paradoxically, the more you consider his offer, the more tempting it seems. No complicated trip and cover story? Over in just a few minutes? “If you ever tell anyone about this, I will never forgive you. I will hate you forever.”

Aegon taunts: “I thought you already hated me.”

You aren’t sure what you feel for him, but it’s certainly not hate. Not anymore. “Where would we do it?”

“In my office. And by that I mean my basement.”

“Your filthy, disease-ridden basement? On your shag carpet full of crabs?”

“You’re in luck,” he jokes. “My crab exterminator service just came by yesterday.”

You exhale in a low, despairing groan.

“Hey, would you rather do it on the dining room table? I’m game. Your choice.”

You watch the seagulls swooping in the afternoon air, the banners of sailboats on the glittering water. “Okay. The basement.”

You walk with Aegon to the house and—after ensuring that no one is around to notice—sneak with him down the creaking basement steps, the door locked behind you. Aegon is darting around; he sets a small trashcan by the carpet and tosses you two towels, then goes to wash his hands in his tiny bathroom, not nearly enough room for someone to stretch out across the linoleum floor.

You’re surveying the scene nervously. “I don’t want to get blood all over your stuff.”

“You’re the cleanest thing that’s ever been on that carpet. Lie down.”

You place one towel on the green shag carpet, then whisk off your panties, discard the bloody knot of toilet paper in the trashcan, and pull the skirt of your dress up around your waist so it’s out of the way. Then you sit down and drape the second towel over your thighs so you’re hidden from him, like you’re about to be examined by a doctor. Your heart is thumping, but you don’t exactly feel like you want to stop. It’s more exhilarating than fear, you think; it is forbidden, it is shameful, it is a microscopic betrayal of Aemond that he’ll never know about.

Aegon moseys out of the bathroom, flicking drops of water from his hands. He wears one of his usual counterculture uniforms: a frayed green army jacket with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, khaki shorts, tan moccasins. He kicks them off before he kneels on the shag carpet. He checks the clock on the wall. “2:07. I promised two minutes max. Let’s see how I do. Ready?”

You rest the back of your head on your linked hands, raise your knees, take a deep and unsteady breath. “Ready.”

But he can see that you’re shaking. “Hey,” Aegon says kindly, pressing his hand down on the towel so you’re covered. “Do you want me to go to the hospital with you? I’ll try to distract people. I’ll pretend I’m having a seizure or something.”

“No, I’m okay,” you insist. “I just want it out. I want this over with.”

“Got it.” And then he begins. He stares at the wall to his left, not looking at you, navigating by feel. You feel the pressure of two fingers, a stretching that is not entirely unpleasant. He’s warm and careful, strangely unobtrusive. Still, you suck in a breath and shift on the carpet. “Shh, shh, shh,” Aegon whispers, skimming his other hand up and down the inside of your thigh, and shiver like you’ve never felt before rolls backwards up the length of your spine. “Relax. You alright?”

“Fine. Totally fine.”

“Oh yeah, it’s definitely in there,” Aegon says. His brow is creased with comprehension. “No string…you’re right, it must either be tangled up somehow or it never had one to begin with. Maybe you accidentally inserted it upside down.”

“Now you insult my intelligence. As if I’m not embarrassed enough.”

“I should have put on a record to set the mood. What gets you going, Marvin Gaye? Elvis?”

“The seductive voice of Richard Milhous Nixon. Maybe you can get him on the phone.”

Aegon laughs hysterically. His fingertips push the tampon against your cervix and you yelp. “Sorry, sorry, my mistake,” Aegon says. There are beads of sweat on his forehead, on his temples; now his eyes are squeezed shut. “I’m gonna try to wiggle it out…”

As he works, there are sensations you can’t quite explain: a very slow-building indistinct desire, a loosening, a readying, a drop in your belly when you think about the fact that he’s the one touching you. Then he happens to press in just the right spot and there is a sudden pang of real pleasure—craving, aching, a deep red flare of previously unfathomable temptation—and you instinctively reach for him. Your hand meets his forearm, and for the first time since he started Aegon looks at your face, alarmed, afraid that he’s hurt you again. But once your eyes meet you’re both trapped there, and you can’t pretend you’re not, his fingers still inside you, his pulse racing, a rivulet of sweat snaking down the side of his face, his eyes an opaque murky blue like water you’re desperate to claw your way into. You know what you want to tell him, but the words are impossible. Don’t stop. Come closer.

Aegon clears his throat, forces himself to look away, and at last dislodges the tampon. It appears dark and bloody in his grasp. “No string,” he confirms, holding it up and turning it so you can see. “Factory reject.”

“Just like you.”

He glances at the clock. “2:09. I delivered precisely what was promised.” He chucks the tampon into the trashcan and then grins as he helps pull you upright with his clean hand. “So do you like to cuddle afterwards, or…?”

You’re giggling, covering your flushed face. “Shut up.”

“Personally, I enjoy being ridden into the ground and then called a good boy.”

“Go away.” You nod to where he disposed of the tampon and say before stopping to think: “You’re not going to keep that under your ashtray too?”

Aegon freezes and blinks at you. He smiles slowly, cautiously. “No, I think that would be a little unorthodox, even for me.” He pitches you a clean washcloth from the bathroom closet. “That should get you upstairs.”

“Thanks.” You shove it between your legs and rise to your feet, smoothing the skirt of your dress. “I owe you something. I’m not sure what, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Hey,” Aegon says, and waits for you to turn to him. “Maybe I’m not that bad.”

“Maybe,” you agree thoughtfully.

Just before you hurry upstairs, you steal a glimpse of Aegon in the bathroom, the door kicked only half-closed. He has turned on the water, but he’s not using it yet. Aegon is staring down at the blood on his hand, half-dried scarlet impermanent ink.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hi, it’s me again. I’m in solitary confinement. There’s a guy in the cell next to mine; we talk to each other with a modified version of Morse code. Tap tap tap on the wall, he taps back, etcetera etcetera, you get the idea. You’re not going to believe this, but he says his name is John McCain. Well, actually, he told me his name is Jobm McCbin, but I think that’s because I translated the taps wrong. I might be in the Hanoi Hilton, but at least they have me in the VIP section! Hahaha.

Every few hours the guards show up to do a very impressive magic trick: they wave their batons like wands, I turn black and blue. Sometimes one of my teeth even disappears. Isn’t that something? Houdini would love it. There’s a rat that I’m making friends with. I give her nibbles of my stale bread, she gives me someone to talk to. She’s good company. I’ve named her Tessarion.

Allow me to make something absolutely fucking clear.

I would very much like to be rescued.