#I wanted to make her design more simple but my hand slipped and now all of the cat doki's have not so animation friendly designs ☠️

[raina-clipse423]

Cat Doki! (Pt 3)

Here's Monika Sayori and Natsuki!

*Feral sounds and pointing aggressively* HERRR!! It's cat Yuri~! :DD

She's a lynx point Siamese × Himalayan, her default is Himalayan, but get her comfy she turns into a Siamese lmao. She was the first one I made, and her warrior name basically came by me automatically especially after learning her name's etymology, and it's LilyPool!!

I also forgot to put extra descriptions of what fur markings they specifically have, Sayori is an agouti/ticked tabby, Natsuki is a spotted tabby!

(warriors info for those interested below the cut)

A reserved decipherer from ThunderClan. It's one of the rarest clan roles since a healer is usually capable of deciphering prophecies on their own, but not every healer can decipher their prophecies quickly–honestly most of them takes some time, but once LilyPool got given this responsibility, Thunderclan gets an up to date prophecy very quickly and they're able to maintain their clan quite well.

It's well known how timid she is, especially in clan gatherings where she stays somewhere, nervously shuffling her paws. She's often found observing many things be it a small animal or her surroundings, like her head is up there in the clouds. It must be this quite times she has that made her the smartest cat of the clan.

They'd say she has the wisdom and knowledge of an Elder–won't be helped that she spends time with them often, even if she doesn't have any duty in the Elders den–they'd come to her if an Elder wasn't being to helpful about something, then she chatters away. For quite a long period of time, until she catches herself then apologizes for talking too much.

LilyPool is considered the prettiest cat in all of Thunderclan for her elegant demeanor and silky long fur, and is also known to have the sharpest and most beautiful pearly claws. She always takes the time to clean them, she never fought and would resort to gently talking her way out of tension, and she doesn't hunt that often either–as she stays most of her time in the Healers den, so her claws would sparkle as she stretches then they catch the light of the sun or moon. They're quite long too to the point they stick out of her paws even if sheathed. She uses these sturdy claws to carve pictures from prophecies on trees and wood barks, or some other poetic things that some of her clanmates stop to admire every once in a while.

However, because of these claws, many outsiders who crosses paths with her by chance would bristle–how much would those claws hurt? Definitely 10 times the normal amount. So they'd turn away immediately, though in reality LilyPool was more afraid of them and she does feel bad very often, especially when this underweight looking kit carrying so many plants on her sprinted away, dropping some of it. She tried to tell her about it but that kit was scary fast. There was one outsider that wasn't afraid of her claws, showing off that she has as equally well cared claws on her too–and this she-cat was very clean and smelled a little strange. But she didn't stay long to chat and said she needed to go back to her... "House folks"? Before they get worried.

... what's a house folk?

[heartsriki]

STRICTLY PROFESSIONAL ⌇ 패션

pairing ᝰ — jake x fem!reader featuring.. heeseung, jay, sunoo | word count: 8800+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ Rich/celebrity au!, suggestive content but no smut, arrogant reader and jake, make out scene, cussing, fluff, smidge of angst, lots of bickering, heeseung is a asshole, reader is a fashion designer, use of petnames.

synopsis — everyone knew who you were. young, successful, talented and most notorious man eater. you enjoyed the games you played with men but it got complicated quickly when you played it with jake. fashion scenes golden boy.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊oh my god this took so long to write, anyways I hope you guys like it fr! Idk if I like it yet but the bathtub scene 👅👅 good lord. Ima fully check this tmr so sorry for any grammar mistakes!

The night was still young, the air thick with the hum of conversation and the distant clink of champagne glasses. You moved through the grand hall like you belonged there—because you did. Every glance that followed you, every murmured whisper in your wake, only served to remind you of the power you held.

Any other woman might claim to hate these kinds of events, the forced pleasantries, the exhausting game of charm and deception. But you? You thrived in it. You loved the way the room seemed to orbit around you, the way men tripped over themselves just for a second of your attention.

And yet, there was one thing you couldn’t stand. The desperate ones. The men who thought a well-tailored suit and a glass of overpriced bourbon made them worthy of you. As one of them slid a hand around your waist, his touch sensual and unwelcome, you scoffed, effortlessly slipping from his grasp without a second thought.

They never learned.

This was your reputation—the untouchable, the unattainable, the woman they all wanted but none could ever truly have.

But amid the usual sea of admirers, there was one man who didn’t make a move. He didn’t approach, didn’t try his luck. He simply watched, his gaze lingering just a moment too long. You barely gave him a second thought. Another coward, too afraid to step up.

Or so you thought.

“Having fun?” Heeseung asked, swirling the whiskey in his glass before taking a slow sip.

Jake hummed, his eyes still locked on you. “You could say that.”

Heeseung followed his gaze, his lips quirking up the moment he realized who had captured his friend’s attention. Then, he burst out laughing.

Jake raised a brow. “What’s so funny?”

Heeseung shook his head, still amused. “Her? No way. I’d switch targets now if I were you.”

Jake’s curiosity piqued. “Why? She got a man or something?”

“The opposite, actually.” Heeseung smirked, setting his drink down. “She’s a man-eater. Every guy in this room has wanted a piece of her at some point.”

Jake laughed, leaning back in his chair. “What, you trying to scare me off ‘cause you want her?”

Heeseung grinned. “More like trying to save you from embarrassment, man. She even rejected me, and that says something.”

Jake scoffed. “Egotistical bastard. Anyway, she doesn’t even know me. Why don’t I give it a shot?”

Heeseung let out a short chuckle and glanced at the others. With a simple nod, three more men joined the conversation—Sunghoon, Jay, and Sunoo.

“What’s up?” Sunoo asked, adjusting his collar.

Heeseung gestured toward you with his glass. “Jake has eyes on Y/N.”

Jay nearly choked on his drink. “Oh, hell no. Yeah, good luck, man.”

Jake scoffed. “You guys act like I’m not charming and rich.”

Sunghoon smirked. “Listen, if none of us even got as much as a kiss from that woman, you definitely can’t.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “So, you all think I can’t pull? Alright, then. Watch me.” He pushed back his chair and stood up, adjusting his cuffs before striding toward you with confidence.

The group watched in amused silence.

“Anyone busy tonight?” Heeseung asked after a beat.

“No,” they all replied in unison.

“Good,” Heeseung said, taking another sip of his drink. “Because that man is going to come back crying.”

As Jake strode toward you, you noticed him instantly—without even needing to spare him a glance. Finally. The man who had been eyeing you all night had mustered up the nerve to approach. Not that it would make any difference. You can just tell you wont be interested.

It’s just a game to you.

Clearing his throat, he smoothly excused himself into your conversation. The men surrounding you shot him warning glances, but he ignored them, his attention solely on you.

You didn’t even hesitate. With a polite smile, you excused yourself from them and turned to face Jake fully, flashing him the kind of grin that had men falling to their knees.

Too easy.

Jake took that as a good sign. See? She’s already giving such a pretty smile. How hard could this be?

“I’ve been meaning to introduce myself,” he began smoothly, holding out a hand, ready to bring yours to his lips. “My name is Sim Jaeyun, but the people I like to keep close—like you—call me Jake.”

You didn’t give him your hand.

Instead, you tilted your head slightly, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Delighted to meet you, Mr. Sim.”

Jake barely managed to mask his surprise as he quickly withdrew his hand. So, the gentleman act wasn’t going to cut it. Fine. He could adapt.

“You’re the most gorgeous woman here tonight,” he charmed, his voice dripping with confidence. “Where’s that dress from? It works wonders on you.”

You didn’t miss a beat. “I’ve been told,” you said airily, before letting the real dagger sink in. “And this dress? It’s from me.”

Jake blinked. “From you?”

You smirked. “Yes. I made it.”

It took him a second, but then it clicked. Shit.

Realization dawned in his eyes. He knew now exactly who you were.

You leaned in slightly, your voice silky smooth. “Tell me, Mr. Sim… do you always fail to research the women you approach or did you just underestimate me?”

Jake swallowed. “I—uhm—”

Before he could recover, your hands were on him. A slow, deliberate caress up his shoulder, your fingers threading behind his neck. He stiffened, caught between the intoxicating warmth of your touch and the sharp edge in your voice.

“See, it’s men like you I hate the most…” you murmured, voice soft but laced with venom.

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your lips curling in amusement.

“Uneducated.”

And just like that, you turned on your heel.

Jake stood frozen for a moment, trying to process how the conversation had flipped so fast.

Then, from across the room—laughter.

He turned just in time to see Heeseung and the others, barely containing their amusement.

Yeah. No. This wasn’t over.

Jake straightened his shoulders, running a hand through his hair.

If you thought that was the last time you’d be seeing him tonight… you had another thing coming.

After realizing who you were, he knew he needed a lot more than just a prince act to get to you.

Y/N, the youngest successful fashion designer in the country. Your creative silk dresses and outlandish designs shot you straight to the top, allowing you to build your own designer store and amass a massive fortune.

He regretted not researching you beforehand, but to be fair, you didn’t really advertise yourself—just your million-dollar merchandise.

But his greatest mistake was also his biggest opportunity. Jake and his friends just so happened to be ambassadors for your company, and from the looks of it, fashion was the only way to get to you.

As their car pulled up to the photoshoot, Jake grew more nervous. He had already landed himself in the deep end with you, and he had only a vague idea of how to get out. But you? You were a total wildcard.

Jake huffed as he stepped out of the car.

“What’s your problem?” Heeseung asked, walking beside him.

Sunoo smirked, approaching as well. “He’s still trying to woo Y/N.”

Heeseung laughed. “No way! After that shitshow last night? You’re either ballsy or crazy.”

Jake shook his head. “Whatever, I’ll figure it out.”

As they walked in, the photoshoot was already set up. Props were on display, cameras were being tested, and the staff bustled around. Jake scanned the room for you, but you hadn’t arrived yet.

Sunoo clapped his hands as he admired the lavish outfits they’d be wearing. Jake had to admit—you were talented.

The sudden bang of doors flying open caught everyone’s attention.

You walked in, dressed in comfortable yet stylish clothes that hugged you in all the right places. Jake could finally see what everyone had been talking about. You knew how to get eyes on you.

“Cameras, props, and lights ready?” you called out, hands on your waist.

The staff confirmed, and you turned to face the group. One by one, you examined each member calling them out with their valuable features—Sunoo’s alluring figure, Jay’s strong jawline, Sunghoon’s thick eyebrows, Heeseung’s plump lips… and then you paused when you got to Jake.

“Mr. Sim, I didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, grinning as you looked him up and down.

Jake let out a short laugh. “Didn’t know I was one of the ambassadors? I’m hurt.”

You hummed, circling him, trying to pinpoint a striking physical feature that could be useful. But for the first time, nothing came to mind.

“Anyway, let’s continue. Sunoo is first,” you said, brushing past him.

Jake scoffed slightly. It was a small thing, really. But for some reason, the fact that you didn’t highlight anything about him bothered him more than it should have.

He watched as you guided Sunoo through your envisioned concept, your passion evident in every direction you gave. Sunoo followed your cues effortlessly, showcasing the designs exactly as you intended.

One by one, each member had their turn, and every shot looked incredible—each outfit tailored perfectly to their features.

Then, it was Jake’s turn.

You stood in front of the wardrobe, flipping through the options. To be honest, it was frustrating. You had instantly known what worked for everyone else, but for Jake… you were stumped.

You turned around, squinting at him, taking him in. He sat there watching you, his throat going dry as you slowly walked closer.

Then, without warning, you reached out and tilted his chin up.

Jake stiffened.

You studied him, and suddenly, it clicked.

His big, expressive puppy eyes. His soft, round lips. The way he looked almost desperate and vulnerable.

…He looked so good like this.

You laughed to yourself, turning to the wardrobe and pulling out a sleek black suit.

You knew exactly how to take advantage of Sim Jaeyun.

You bitterly laughed as you scrolled through the articles. Of course, you had an eye for things like this.

The internet was in an uproar over Jake’s part of the photoshoot—but in a good way.

The concept was striking. The camera was angled just above him, catching the sharp contrast of light against his desperate, pleading eyes. His lips were slightly parted, pouty in a way that almost begged to be kissed. His shirt hung open just enough to tease, showing only a sliver of skin, while the veins along his arms stood out, practically begging for attention.

You coughed, shaking the thoughts from your head.

Shoving the distraction aside, you sat at your desk, fingers gripping your pencil as you stared at the blank sketchpad before you. Normally, this was the easy part—designs came to you like second nature. But today? Nothing.

Your eyes wandered the room, searching for something—anything—to spark creativity. And then they landed on the stack of freshly printed photos from Jake’s shoot.

It was like a lightbulb flicked on above your head. Thoughts started forming and it was like the cogs in your brain started turning.

You needed a meeting with him. Now.

It took some effort to track him down, but after a few well-placed calls, you discovered he was at a celebration party for one of his many sponsors. A big shot, was he? You scoffed, feeling a twinge of irritation crawl under your skin. No—why did he irritate you so much?

Your sleek, high-end car pulled up to the entrance, drawing the attention of reporters and guests alike. Ignoring their murmurs, you strode inside, brushing past the glittering crowd. The party was far livelier than the ones you typically attended, but you paid it no mind. Your focus was solely on one person.

Jake.

He was easy to spot, standing in the center of the room with a glass in his hand and a woman draped over his arm. She was laughing at something he said, tilting her head flirtatiously.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes before marching toward him.

At first, he didn’t notice, too caught up in whatever meaningless conversation he was entertaining. But then he picked up on the shift in the room—the way heads turned, whispers spreading like wildfire. His gaze finally landed on you, surprise flickering across his face.

What the hell were you doing here?

“Hello, Sim,” you greeted, your voice laced with amusement. “Having fun?”

Jake blinked, momentarily thrown off. The woman at his side tightened her grip, glaring at you as if trying to stake her claim.

You gave her a quick once-over before arching a brow. “Please. If you’re going to try and mark your territory, at least put some effort into that outfit of yours.”

She gasped, her face burning red before she spun on her heel and stormed off.

Jake smirked as he watched her leave, then turned his attention back to you. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous.”

“In your dreams,” you shot back. “I need you to come with me. It’s urgent.”

His brows lifted, a slow grin curling his lips as he leaned in slightly, his voice dipping into something lower, teasing. “Need me that bad, huh baby?”

Your face flamed, and you immediately shoved his shoulder. “That’s not what I meant—ugh! I’m requesting a conversation. Over dinner.”

Jake tilted his head, studying you. He wasn’t sure what this was about, but the fact that you were suddenly giving him attention? Maybe it was for the big success with his contribution to the magazine. Whatever it was, He wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity.

“Alright,” he drawled. “Taking me out to eat before the fun stuff—how classy.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his wrist, pulling him toward the exit. He let you, a smirk never leaving his face as he trailed behind you.

The ride to the restaurant was quiet. You stared out the window, lost in thought, while Jake stole subtle glances at you. You were always like this—so effortlessly captivating, playing hard to get like it was second nature. He didn’t mind. The chase made it all the more fun.

When the car finally rolled to a stop, Jake glanced out the window, his brows raising slightly. The restaurant was high-end, even by his standards. You didn’t just pick a fancy place—you picked the fancy place.

“You really like showing off, don’t you?” he mused, stepping out after you.

The moment you entered, the security barely even glanced at you before letting you through. Jake, on the other hand, was stopped immediately.

You turned back, giving him a slow smirk.

“He’s with me,” you said simply.

That was all it took. The guard stepped aside without another word, and Jake scoffed, shaking his head as he followed you in.

You were led to a private, reserved area on the rooftop, where the city stretched out in a breathtaking view. The soft glow of lights flickered over your face, casting delicate shadows. Jake had to admit—you looked stunning.

After placing your orders, silence settled between you. Jake swirled his wine glass, watching you over the rim.

“So,” he finally said, breaking the quiet, “why do I have the honor of your presence tonight, Y/N?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Sim.” You exhaled, looking away for a moment before leaning back. “Do you know how I built my brand?”

Jake raised a brow. “Hard work I would presume?”

You let out a quiet laugh. “A muse,” you corrected. “Every artist needs one. And mine… has grown dull.”

He frowned slightly, trying to decipher where this was going. “And?”

Your gaze locked onto his, unwavering. “Lucky for you, I seem to find creative inspiration just by looking at you.”

The words hung in the air, thick with meaning. Jake stared at you, and for once, he didn’t have a teasing remark locked and loaded.

Because you weren’t joking.

You had come all this way, pulled him out of a party, taken him to an extravagant dinner— not for some business deal, but because you needed him.

Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as a slow, knowing grin spread across his face.

“Well, well,” he murmured. “Didn’t know I had that effect on you.”

You sighed, already regretting saying anything. “It’s strictly professional, Sim.”

“Sure it is.”

His eyes gleamed with mischief, but there was something else there too—something unreadable. He tilted his head slightly, studying you the way you had been studying him all night.

Finally, he set his glass down and smirked. “Alright, Y/N. I’ll be your muse.”

You arched a brow. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” His voice dropped into something quieter, more serious. “But don’t think for a second that this is a one-sided deal.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jake leaned in ever so slightly, his smirk never wavering.

“You need inspiration,” he said. “And I need you.”

Your breath hitched.

Jake leaned back in his seat, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he swirled the wine in his glass. His eyes never left yours, watching your reaction with amusement.

“Go on one date with me,” he said smoothly, tilting his head slightly. “And I’m all yours.”

You stared at him, blinking once. Then twice.

And then, you burst into laughter. A real, full laugh that made your shoulders shake as you leaned back in your chair.

Jake didn’t say anything—he just sat there, watching you with an unreadable expression. Not smug. Not teasing. Just… watching.

When your laughter finally died down, you exhaled and shook your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Jake simply raised a brow.

“So, you’re serious?” you asked, searching his face for any sign of a joke. “Just one date? No money? No sexual favors?”

His lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “Yep. One night. Let me have you on my arm for a few hours, and after that…” He shrugged. “I’m all yours.”

You grumbled at the thought. The idea of entertaining a man—even for one night for something as useless as a date—made you want to roll your eyes into another dimension. But you really, really needed Jake. His presence alone had sparked something in you. God, you hated when a man had the upper hand.

You sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fine. One date. That’s all.” You narrowed your eyes. “And then you’re mine.”

Jake chuckled, resting his chin in his palm as he gazed at you, a lazy sort of amusement flickering in his eyes.

“Yes,” he murmured. “All yours.”

And for some reason, the way he said it made your stomach flip.

The deal was set. One date. That was all.

You repeated that to yourself as you adjusted your outfit, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles while glancing at your reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t like you cared how you looked for Jake Sim. It was just… appearances. You had a reputation to maintain.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

A knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. Your assistant peeked in, looking a little too amused.

“He’s here,” they said.

With one last deep breath, you grabbed your clutch and headed out.

Jake was waiting outside, leaning casually against his car—a sleek black luxury vehicle that, of course, fit his whole charming celebrity persona perfectly. He looked effortless in his suit, his hair styled just the right amount of messy, like he’d barely tried but still somehow managed to look good.

The worst part? He probably hadn’t tried.

His gaze flickered over you, and his smirk grew. “Well, damn,” he murmured, pushing off the car. “If I knew you were gonna look this good, I would’ve asked for two dates.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “Not happening.”

He chuckled, opening the passenger door for you. “We’ll see.”

You slid in without another word, and the moment he settled into the driver’s seat, the engine purred to life.

“So,” you said, crossing your arms. “Where exactly are you taking me?”

Jake grinned as he pulled out onto the road. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You narrowed your eyes. “If this is some cliché rooftop dinner setup, I’m leaving.”

He laughed. “No trust in me at all, huh?”

“Not even a little.”

Jake shook his head, amused. “Guess I’ll just have to change that.”

It wasn’t a rooftop dinner.

It wasn’t a fancy five-star restaurant, either.

Instead, twenty minutes later, you found yourself in the passenger seat of Jake Sim’s car as he pulled into a bustling night market on the outskirts of the city. The place was alive—bright, colorful lights hanging between stalls, the air thick with the scent of grilled food, fried snacks, and sweet desserts.

You blinked. This was… not what you expected.

Jake shot you a sideways glance, catching your surprise. “What?” he teased. “Thought I was gonna wine and dine you in some overpriced restaurant?”

You turned to him, arching a brow. “…Yes.”

He smirked. “See? You underestimated me too much.”

You scoffed. “I didn’t underestimate anything.”

Jake hummed, clearly not convinced.

Before you could protest further, he was already getting out of the car and walking around to your side, opening the door for you. “Come on,” he said, holding out a hand. “Let’s get something to eat.”

You hesitated before ignoring his hand and stepping out on your own. Jake chuckled under his breath but didn’t push it.

The market was buzzing with energy. Neon lights flashed, the sound of sizzling food filled the air, and people bustled past in happy chatter. You followed Jake as he navigated through the stalls with ease, stopping at a particular vendor selling tteokbokki.

“Spicy?” he asked, glancing at you.

You shrugged. “I can handle it.”

Jake smirked like he didn’t believe you but ordered anyway. When he handed you the steaming bowl of rice cakes drenched in spicy sauce, you took a bite without hesitation.

And instantly regretted it.

Your mouth burned.

You coughed, eyes watering as you tried to keep your expression neutral. Jake, of course, was watching you with way too much amusement.

“You good?” he asked, clearly holding back laughter.

You swallowed, forcing a nod. “Shit—Totally.”

Jake snorted before handing you a drink. “Don’t act tough.” He said with a laugh.

“I’m not acting tough,” you shot back, gulping down the drink. “I just—”

“Don’t want to look vulnerable?”

You glared at him, which only made him grin. He slowly had you figured out.

The rest of the night went like that—Jake teasing you, you pretending to be unaffected, and somehow, between all of it, you… actually started to enjoy yourself.

He dragged you to different stalls, making you try every snack he claimed was the best. He somehow convinced you to play one of those rigged carnival games, and when you failed miserably, he swooped in with that cocky confidence of his and won a stuffed bear in one try.

“For you,” he said, handing it over with a wink.

You scoffed, snatching it from his hands. “You’re so annoying.”

“You love it.”

You didn’t. Well, maybe you didn’t hate it as much as you wanted to.

Hours passed without you realizing.

By the time you both made your way back to the car, the market had quieted down, the crowd thinning as the night stretched on. You hugged the stuffed bear to your chest, glancing at Jake as he walked beside you, hands tucked in his pockets.

“I’ll admit,” you said after a beat. “This was… decent.”

Jake smirked. “High praise coming from you.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He glanced down at where you touched him before tilting his head at you, something softer lingering in his gaze. “You know,” he said, voice quieter now. “You’re different when you’re not trying to impress.”

You stiffened slightly. “I’m not—”

“You are.” He smiled a little.

You quickly looked away, tightening your grip on the stuffed bear. “Don’t overthink it, It’s just one date.”

Jake hummed. “Just one.”

You didn’t like the way he said that. Like he knew something you didn’t.

Like he knew that one date wasn’t going to be enough.

The ride back was quieter than before. Not in a bad way—just… different. The playful teasing from earlier had faded into something heavier, something unspoken hanging in the air between you.

Jake was focused on the road, one hand gripping the wheel while the other rested lazily on the gear shift. You, on the other hand, sat with your arms crossed, staring out the window, pretending you weren’t acutely aware of every little movement he made.

It didn’t help that the car felt smaller than it actually was. Or maybe it was just the way he’d glance at you every now and then, his lips quirking up like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

At one point, he exhaled a small chuckle. “You’re quiet.”

You turned your head slightly but didn’t meet his gaze. “So?”

Jake hummed, his fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel. “Just not used to it. Usually, you’re too busy trying to put me in my place.”

You finally looked at him. “Trust me, I still could.”

“Oh, I know,” he murmured, eyes flickering to yours before returning to the road. “But that’s not what’s happening right now, is it?”

You opened your mouth to retort but hesitated.

Because he was right.

And that was irritating.

The rest of the ride passed with that same unbearable tension, neither of you saying much, but the energy thick enough to cut with a knife. Every second felt stretched, every brush of his fingers against the wheel, every shift in his seat, every subtle glance your way felt charged.

When he finally pulled up in front of your place, you should’ve gotten out immediately. You should’ve thanked him—maybe given him a sarcastic remark for good measure—and left it at that.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you hesitated.

Your fingers clenched around the stuffed bear in your lap as you turned to face him. Jake was already watching you, his expression unreadable but his eyes dark with something else.

And before you could talk yourself out of it, you blurted, “Come inside.”

Jake blinked. “What?”

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “For a photoshoot.”

His lips twitched. “At—” he glanced at the clock on the dashboard “—midnight?”

You lifted your chin. “You said you were my muse now, right? I just got an idea. Unless you’re scared of a little late-night work.”

Jake’s smirk deepened, like he could see right through you. “You really suck at making excuses, you know that?”

“Are you coming or not, Sim?”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head before turning off the car. “Lead the way, boss.”

The moment you stepped inside, the energy shifted again.

Your place was modern yet warm—high ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows, designer furniture, and mood lighting that cast a soft glow over everything. Jake took it all in as he followed you inside, hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“So,” he mused, scanning the room, “where’s the magic gonna happen?”

You rolled your eyes at his choice of words but ignored it, grabbing your camera from the shelf. “In there,” you said, motioning toward the bathroom as you both walked in.

Jake raised a brow as he watched you adjust the settings. “Straight to business?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered, but even you knew it wasn’t convincing.

He stepped closer, just enough that you felt the heat of his presence. “Whats the plan?”

Your fingers grazed over the camera button as you eyed him without hiding.

Your jaw clenched. You inhaled sharply. Then, without missing a beat, you lifted the camera and snapped a photo right in his face.

Jake blinked at the flash.

You smirked, tilting your head slightly as you studied him. “Take off your suit—leave the button-up—and get in the bathtub.”

Jake froze, his brows lifting slightly. He looked at you like he was trying to figure out if you were serious. But for once, he didn’t argue, didn’t throw a cocky remark your way.

Instead, he simply exhaled, loosened his tie, and shrugged off his suit jacket. His fingers made quick work of his cufflinks before rolling up the sleeves of his already damp button-up. With an unreadable expression, he stepped into the tub, settling against the porcelain with his arms resting along the edges, looking like a king on his throne. His shirt, already slightly undone from earlier, clung to his chest, teasing glimpses of toned skin beneath the fabric.

You hummed, pleased with how naturally he fit into the scene. Lifting the shower head, you turned on the water.

Jake yelped.

“Hey—shit, that’s cold!“ He recoiled, hands shooting up to shield himself from the icy stream.

You grinned mischievously. “Oops. Sorry, princess.”

Jake groaned, dragging a wet hand down his face. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

You only smirked as you adjusted the temperature, letting the water run warm. He exhaled, relaxing under the heat, though you could tell he was still a little wary.

The camera flashed.

Jake’s eyes snapped to yours. “Seriously?”

“That’s it,” you murmured, tilting the lens as you took another shot. “Just relax. You look better when you stop overthinking.”

Something shifted in his expression. His shoulders eased, his body sinking further into the tub as he let go of whatever was running through his mind. The water streamed over him, drenching his shirt completely, making the fabric cling to his torso like a second skin. His hair, already a mess from the rain earlier, now fell over his eyes, strands curling slightly from the dampness.

You almost let yourself admire him.

Almost.

He looked like something out of a luxury ad—lazily elegant, frustratingly attractive, like sin wrapped in silk. He was a glass of dark wine, the kind that burned just enough to keep you coming back for another sip.

But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying that out loud.

Instead, you inched closer, adjusting the focus to capture his eyes. He had the prettiest, prettiest boba eyes—deep and dark, framed by long lashes, almost too soft for someone who loved to tease you so relentlessly.

But something wasn’t clicking. The shot wasn’t right. You frowned, turning off the water to get a better angle, hovering slightly over him in concentration.

Jake watched you past the lens, amusement dancing in his gaze as you pouted in frustration.

“You look cute when you’re trying too hard,” he mused.

You barely had time to process his words before—

Splash.

A gasp tore from your lips as you were suddenly yanked forward, water soaking through your clothes in an instant. Your knees landed on either side of Jake’s lap, hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. Your body pressed against his, and the realization hit you way too late.

The camera slipped from your hands, landing with a soft clunk on the dry edge of the tub.

“You—”

But you froze.

Because holy shit.

His hair was a dripping mess, strands falling into his eyes, water trickling down his temples. His lips were slightly parted, breath shallow, chest rising and falling beneath the soaked fabric of his shirt. But it wasn’t that.

It was his eyes. Those eyes.

Gone was the teasing glint, the ever-present mischief. Instead, they were dark, hooded—pleading.

Exactly what you were looking for earlier.

But with something deeper. Something unspoken. It expressed something his mouth couldn’t say.

His grip on your waist tightened slightly, like he was waiting. Like he was testing to see if you’d pull away.

The only sound in the room was the slow, rhythmic dripping of water and the soft, uneven breaths between you both.

Neither of you moved.

Because if you did, if either of you so much as shifted—

You both knew what would happen next.

Jake exhaled shakily, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. Then, voice barely above a whisper, he muttered, “You gonna do something? Because this is killing me.”

Your throat went dry.

“Jake…”

The second his name left your lips—soft, breathless, uncertain—his fingers flexed against your waist, and something in his eyes snapped.

His jaw clenched. His chest rose sharply as he exhaled through his nose, his grip just a fraction tighter, just enough for you to feel the tension between you crackle like a live wire.

“…Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

Without another second to hesitate, his lips crashed onto yours.

A sharp inhale left you as your eyes widened in surprise, but the warmth of his mouth, the way he moved against you so effortlessly, erased any thoughts of pulling away. Your lashes fluttered shut, that little voice in your head telling you to stop quickly drowned out by the sheer pleasure of it all.

Jake kissed you like he had been starving for this—like he had been waiting too long, and now that he had you, he wasn’t going to waste another second. His hands roamed along your back, gripping, exploring, pulling you closer as if he needed you to be right there against him. Your own hands weren’t still either—fingers moving with urgency, working on the buttons of his soaked shirt, pushing the fabric away in greedy desperation.

The wet material slid off his shoulders, discarded somewhere to the side. And then—God—your hands were on him. Palms dragging down the expanse of his torso, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

Jake sighed into your mouth at the sensation, his breath warm, his body reacting to you just as much as yours was to him.

Your heart was practically pounding. What was he doing to you? You’d played this game before, teased and flirted, danced along the edge of something dangerous—but never like this. Never this raw. Never this vulnerable.

He moved before you could even process it. His hands slid up, fingers weaving into your hair as he shifted you—one second, you were on his lap, the next, you were lying beneath him, water still clinging to both of you.

Jake didn’t hesitate.

His lips left yours only to trail across your jaw, down your neck, to the sensitive dip between your collarbones. He kissed like he was memorizing you, like he wanted to leave a mark in places no one else had ever dared to touch. You sighed at the feeling, your hands slipping up into his damp hair, fingers tugging just enough to make him groan against your skin.

It was intoxicating. The weight of him, the heat of his breath, the way his lips moved against your skin as if he owned you.

Then— Jake stilled.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes flickering over your face. A sharp inhale filled his chest as he took you in—the way you were watching him, the way your lips were parted, the unhidden hunger in your gaze.

Damn.

You looked like you were ready to devour him.

For a moment, he just stared—like he was trying to brand this image into his brain, like he needed to convince himself that this was real.

Then, with a smirk, he leaned in, lips brushing over your ear as he whispered, “Strictly professional, huh?.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, confusion flickering through your desire-hazed mind when he pulled away completely. Jake stood, stepping out of the tub before holding a hand out for you. You took it, letting him pull you up. Water dripped from both of you as you steadied yourself, but your fingers clung to his forearm, your lips slightly parted in silent protest.

Your expression must have given you away because he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Relax,” he mused, tugging you flush against him. “I just wanted to take you to your bedroom—unless you want to do this right here?”

His voice was laced with amusement, but there was something darker beneath it. A challenge. A temptation.

And the way his fingers slowly dragged down your waist, the heat behind his gaze, the way his lips barely ghosted over yours without fully kissing you—

He knew exactly what he was doing.

The warm sunlight streaming through the window pulled you from your sleep, making you groan as your limbs ached from exhaustion. Every movement sent a dull throb through your muscles, a reminder of exactly what had happened last night.

You raised your hand to rub your temple, only to pause when your fingers brushed against something—small, dark bruises dotting your skin.

That jerk.

A lazy smirk tugged at your lips before you turned over, reaching instinctively toward his side of the bed, only to be met with cold sheets. Your stomach twisted.

Your first thought was that maybe he had just gotten up early. But then, the silence in the room became deafening, an eerie reminder of how alone you were.

Your chest tightened, but before the feeling could settle, you noticed the faint glow of light coming from the bathroom.

Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived.

As you moved closer, the sound of his voice—muffled but unmistakable—reached your ears.

You hesitated. Something in you told you to go back, to not listen. But your curiosity, your need to know, got the better of you.

And that’s when you heard it.

“Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. I should just get out of here before she wakes up, right?”

Your breath hitched.

Your heart didn’t just drop—it shattered.

Mistake.

Was that all last night was to him?

A mistake?

The one man you had allowed past your carefully built walls, the one man you let touch you in ways no one else had, was now talking about leaving before you even woke up.

Your hands clenched into fists, fingernails digging into your palm to fight the sting in your eyes. No. No way in hell were you going to sit here and mope about this.

If this was a mistake to him, then it was a mistake to you too.

You turned sharply on your heel, biting down the lump in your throat as you moved quickly to get dressed.

You weren’t going to wait around for him to leave first.

From Jake’s perspective, he woke up to the soft vibration of his phone on the nightstand beside him. Groggily, he turned over, his eyes immediately landing on you—curled up beside him, your arm draped over his waist. You looked so peaceful, your breath steady, your grip on him light but firm.

His heart fluttered at the sight.

With a quiet groan, he reached for his phone, squinting at the screen to see Heeseung flashing across the caller ID.

He sighed before accepting the call.

“Hey,” he whispered, carefully shifting out of your hold so he wouldn’t wake you. Slipping into the bathroom, he shut the door behind him. “What do you want?”

“Yo, I haven’t heard from you since the party. What’s up with you?”

Jake glanced back at the bed through the cracked door before lowering his voice. “I’m at Y/N’s place.”

Silence.

Then, a loud yelp from Heeseung made Jake wince. “What?! Y/N? No way—did you guys—?”

Jake smirked. “Yes. Maybe—we did.”

Heeseung let out a hum of approval. “Damn. Someone finally got to her. Congratulations, man. We should celebrate tonight.”

Jake scoffed. “It’s not like that, Hee.”

Heeseung frowned on the other end. “Wait… you mean you’re actually trying to make something out of this?” A dry laugh followed. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

Jake’s stomach tightened. “What do you mean? I thought—”

“Exactly. You thought.” Heeseung let out a sigh. “I already told you who she is. A man-eater, Jake. If you weren’t at her place right now, she probably would’ve disappeared before you even woke up.”

Jake swallowed hard.

It had taken a long time to get through to you—everyone knew that. But last night felt different. He wasn’t imagining that… right?

“Listen,” Heeseung continued, his voice laced with amusement, “if I were you, I’d take the good fuck and get out of there before she hurts your feelings.”

Jake’s grip on his phone tightened.

“Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. I should just get out of here before she wakes up, right?”

Then, before Heeseung could add anything else, a new voice cut in.

“Don’t listen to that player.”

Jake blinked as Jay snatched the phone away from Heeseung.

Jay shot his friend an unimpressed look before putting the phone to his ear. “If things actually seem like it’ll go good between you two, then go for it.”

Jake exhaled, some of the tension in his shoulders easing. “You think so?”

“Yes. Don’t come crying to us later saying you fumbled.”

Jake let out a short laugh, finally smiling again. “Alright. See you later.”

Hanging up, he set his phone down on the sink and glanced at himself in the mirror. He ran a hand through his messy hair, wincing slightly as a sting shot across his back.

Curious, he turned his body slightly and craned his neck to check—only to see deep, red nail marks trailing down his skin.

A laugh rumbled from his chest.

That was definitely your handiwork.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Another thought crossed his mind, he shouldn’t have listened to Heeseung.

Sure, You had a reputation—everyone knew that. But you weren’t just some girl to him. Last night wasn’t just about the physical.

He had seen the way you softened under his touch. The way you looked at him like he was more than just some guy you had picked for the night.

He wasn’t an idiot. He had felt it.

And yet, for a split second, Heeseung’s words had gotten into his head, making him doubt everything.

Jake stepped out of the bathroom with a light smile, now going back to chuckling at the sight of the nail marks on his back. But as he looked around, his smile slowly faded.

The bed was empty.

The sheets, once messy from the night before, were now slightly straightened—like someone had hastily tried to fix them before leaving. His heart sank.

“Y/N?” he called, his voice hesitant.

Silence.

His eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of you—your clothes, your phone, something. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the closet door slightly ajar. He walked over, tugging it open. Empty.

Jake’s stomach twisted.

You were gone.

His mind raced as he reached for his phone, but before he could dial your number, something on the nightstand caught his eye. A necklace—your necklace. The one you always wore, the one you never took off.

His chest tightened.

What the hell just happened?

Then, it clicked. The way he had found you curled up next to him this morning—the way your fingers had unconsciously gripped his waist, as if afraid he’d leave. You weren’t the type to do that. So why did you—.

Unless—

She heard me.

Jake felt the blood drain from his face. His own words echoed in his head, the ones Heeseung had fed him, the ones he stupidly repeated without thinking.

“Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. I should just get out of here before she wakes up, right?”

He clenched his jaw. “Shit.”

You had heard him. And now, you were gone.

Jake spent the rest of the morning searching for you. He called your phone multiple times, but it kept ringing until it went to voicemail. He texted, only to be met with unread messages. Every hour that passed made his frustration grow—where the hell could you have gone?

Then, it hit him.

Your studio.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his keys and drove across the city, ignoring every red light and honking car. His mind was a storm of emotions—guilt, frustration, fear. He needed to fix this.

When he finally arrived, the familiar sight of your workspace came into view, its large glass windows dimly lit from inside. His heart pounded as he stepped out of his car and made his way to the entrance, pushing open the door without knocking.

The moment he walked in, he spotted you.

You were sitting at your desk, hunched over a sketchbook. From the way your pencil angrily scratched at the page, it was clear you were frustrated. Your usual fluid, elegant designs had been replaced with jagged lines, some pages torn out and crumpled beside you.

You were trying to drown yourself in work.

Jake’s breath caught as he took you in. Your hair was messier than usual, your face devoid of the usual sharp confidence you carried. You looked exhausted. Like you hadn’t slept at all.

Like you were trying to forget last night ever happened.

But when you sensed someone standing in the doorway, you didn’t look up. “Go away.”

Jake swallowed hard. “Y/N—”

“I said go away.” Your voice was steady, but he could hear the underlying hurt beneath it. That hurt made his stomach twist.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, taking slow steps toward you.

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh, finally looking up at him. “Talk? Now you want to talk? Thought this was all a mistake?”

Jake flinched. “That’s not—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, slamming your pencil down. “Don’t stand there and try to spin this, Jake. I heard you. I heard everything.”

The weight of your words hit him like a punch to the gut.

“I woke up, and you were gone,” you continued, voice rising. “I went looking for you because—because for once, I thought maybe this was different. Maybe I wasn’t just another thing for you to play with. But then I heard you. I heard you say it was a mistake—that you should leave before I woke up.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “Guess I just saved you the trouble.”

Jake ran a hand through his hair, his heart hammering. “Y/N, you don’t understand—”

“Oh, I understand perfectly.” You stood up from your chair, stepping closer to him, your expression unreadable. “I was stupid enough to believe that this was more than just another hookup for you. That maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t some temporary distraction.”

Jake took a shaky breath. “You’re not.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Really? Because that’s not what it sounded like this morning.”

Jake exhaled sharply, gripping the back of his neck. He was messing this up—again. He needed to make you understand.

“I didn’t mean any of that,” he said, voice softer now. “I was on the phone with Heeseung, and he was—” Jake paused, shaking his head. “He was saying a bunch of bullshit, making me second-guess things. But I never meant it, Y/N. The second I said it, I regretted it.”

You stared at him, jaw tight. “And yet you still said it.”

“I know.” He sighed, stepping even closer. “I was stupid. I let someone else’s words get in my head, and I didn’t think. But if you’d stayed just a second longer, you would’ve heard Jay tell me not to listen to Heeseung. You would’ve heard me say that I wanted to stay.”

You hesitated, but your arms remained crossed, a sign that you weren’t letting him off that easily.

Jake sighed, rubbing his face. “Y/N, I don’t do this. I don’t—I don’t wake up next to someone and feel peaceful. I don’t look at someone and think, God, I want more than just one night. But you…” He looked at you, eyes desperate. “With you, it’s different. And that scares the hell out of me.”

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his voice.

Jake took your silence as permission to continue. “I don’t want to be just another regret for you. I don’t want this to be some game. And if you tell me you regret last night—if you tell me you never want to see me again—I’ll leave. But I don’t think you regret it.”

Your breath hitched. He was right. You didn’t.

But you were scared, too.

Scared because you had spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, convinced that love was a battlefield you had no interest in fighting for. Scared because Jake had found a way past your walls without you even realizing it.

And scared because, despite everything… you still wanted him.

“I don’t regret it,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Jake swallowed, nodding. “Then let me prove it to you.”

You stared at him for a long moment, searching his face for any sign of deception. But all you saw was sincerity.

A heavy silence filled the room before you finally exhaled, your shoulders sagging. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you yet.”

Jake’s lips quirked into a small, hopeful smile. “That’s fair.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “God, you’re such a pain in the ass.”

“I’ve heard.” He grinned.

You rolled your eyes, but this time, there was no real malice behind it. Just exhaustion. Maybe even the hint of a smile.

Jake took a tentative step forward. “Can I at least take you to dinner?”

You raised a brow. “A real date?”

“A real date,” he promised. “No mistakes this time.”

You studied him for a moment before letting out a small sigh. “Fine. But im paying.”

Jake scoffed. “Just because you have way more money than me doesn’t mean you can show off.”

And as you stood there, sticking your tongue at the boy mischievously who had somehow wormed his way into your heart, you realized— this definitely wasn’t a mistake after all.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the bed. You stirred, shifting slightly, only to feel the weight of an arm draped over your waist. A soft exhale tickled the back of your neck, and you turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of Jake—eyes closed, breathing steady, his features relaxed in a way that made your chest tighten.

It had been weeks since the misunderstanding that nearly tore you apart. Since then, things had fallen into place in a way neither of you had expected. There were no grand declarations or extravagant gestures—just moments like this. Quiet, intimate, and real.

You gently moved his arm, attempting to slip out of bed without waking him, but before you could even shift an inch, his hold tightened.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was rough with sleep, and yet, there was a teasing lilt to it.

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “I was going to make coffee. But I see you have other plans.”

He hummed, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “My only plan is keeping you right here for a little longer.”

You let yourself relax against him for a moment before sighing. “Jake, we can’t just stay in bed all day.”

“Why not?” He murmured against your skin. “I finally got you, and now you want to leave me for coffee? You wound me.”

You turned to face him, raising a brow. “You’re so dramatic.”

He smirked. “And yet, you love me anyway.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and Jake noticed—the way your eyes softened, the way you licked your lips as if debating whether to respond. Love. The word had been lingering between you two for a while now, unsaid but present in every touch, every look, every stolen moment.

Instead of answering, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It was slow, unhurried, filled with an emotion you weren’t quite ready to put into words but hoped he could feel anyway.

He smiled against your lips, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes, I do love you, Jake. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t know how I survived this long without you.’”

You scoffed, pushing at his chest playfully. “You’re such a dumbass.”

He caught your hand before you could move away, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Fine, fine,” he relented, grinning. “But at least let me make the coffee. You stay here.”

You arched a brow. “You? Making coffee?”

Jake gasped dramatically. “I’ll have you know I make an excellent cup of coffee.”

“You put in twice the sugar any sane person would,” you deadpanned.

“You still drink it when I make it,” he pointed out smugly.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest only grew. This—this was what made it different with Jake. The teasing, the tenderness, the effortless way you fit together.

As he finally pulled himself out of bed, ruffling his already-messy hair, you watched him fondly. Maybe neither of you had planned for this, but it was happening anyway.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[thewritetofreespeech]

A Whole New World

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: in the wake of all the rats abandoning ship, you ask Aemond to leave King's Landing with you as well. [sort of in the vein of my tv show series?? mostly because I want to keep it seperate from the rest of my HOTD stuff that is more book related. part -X XX XXX]

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

“Let’s leave this place.”

Aemond looked up at you from his table. Maps and plans littering the surface. There were not enough hours in the day to make headway on a plan to attack or thwart Rhaenyra, so they had moved into your bedroom. “We will leave for Harrenhall in a few days’ time.” He told you. “We will be off soon enough.”

“No, I mean leave this place.” You told him. “Leave Westeros.”

Your husband looked shocked at your suggestion. Understandably. “You would have me leave Westeros. Leave my birthright.”

“It is not yours Aemond.” It was a bitter truth, but a truth none the less, and you were the only one that could tell him that without threat of death.

None of this was supposed to be theirs. Aegon nor Aemond. Deep down they all knew that. Knew that Viserys had not wavered in his final moments on who his favorite child was. Who his first and only was. Alicent could have given the former king 100 sons, and it would not have made up for the one he lost with his first wife. “Rhaenyra now has 7 dragons to our 1 with her dragon mongrels taking flight. Besides which her armies.”

“I have Vhagar!” Aemond shouted in anger. Rising to his feet. “The oldest, strongest, largest dragon in all Seven Kingdoms.”

“And a pack of wild dogs can take down a lion if their numbers are great. I am not trying to upset you Aemond, I’m simply following the maths.”

The prince took a deep breath though his nose and turned from you. Annoyed that you were right, but clearly didn’t want to admit it. “You want me to abandon the city, ney? Run away and hide like the rest of those cowards!”

Aegon had left the city, for his own protection. To where, you could not be sure. That may have been by design as many whispered about how Aemond would kill him in his bed if given the chance. You knew he wouldn’t do that; if for nothing else than the simple fact that it would be dishonorable to murder a cripple in their bed unarmed. His mother had been missing for days at a time now. Uninterested in the war efforts since her dismissal from the council. Such was her right, but the fact that she wouldn’t look you in the eye these days did not grant you comfort on what the former Queen was thinking. The rest seemed to slip out under the cover of darkness. Less and less people seemed to be in the castle. The rats saw that the ship was sinking and were abandoning it quickly.

“I don’t want you to ‘run away’ Aemond. I want you to live.”

Aemond huffed and turned from you again. “Better to die in battle then wither in obscurity.”

“And if you die, and Rhaenyra takes the city, what of me then? Die an honorable suicide like the Queens of old? Be a political prisoner here until the Queen forces me to marry one of her bastard heirs as a good will gesture?”

That got Aemond’s attention. The idea that you could die not nearly as infuriating as the thought that one of Rhaenyra’s “strong boys”, or even her Targaryen brood, would touch you. “That would never happen.”

“You’re right. It wouldn’t. Rhaenyra would have to kill me. If not for the simple fact that I would not bend the knee, but also for the fact that I am a charge to her claim.”

Your hand came to rest at your stomach. Still the same, but not for long. Aemond’s eye followed your hand, and his expression turned to shock before you raised his face to look at you with your other hand. “There are more world out there, my love. Across the Narrow Sea. Beyond. We could take Vhagar and make a new kingdom like your ancestors. We don’t have to stay here and fight over this one. We could have so much more.”

Aemond’s gaze dropped from your hold, but he took your hand at his cheek and held it. “You would have me abandon my family? Turn my back on them?”

“Have they not turned their back on you?” They blamed Aemond for everything. As if he put Aegon up on that stage and gave him a crown. You weren’t naïve enough to think your husband was blameless in his actions during this war, but they were looking for a scapegoat at this point and Aemond was the convenient target. “We are each other’s family now. We are all that matters.”

“Daeron….”

“He can come with us.” You felt maddened to the point of tears. You were fond of Daeron, the few times you had met. A sweet boy who was free of this place. Though you would honestly say anything to Aemond at this point to get him to come. “Helaena too, if you wish. We will fly to some far away place like Aegon and his sisters. Just please….please…let us leave this place.”

Aemond seemed to think about it for a long moment, before he gave you his answer and that was the end of it.

In the morning, Vhagar took flight over the city. Whether she went to Harrenhall with her rider or parts unknown, no one could know then. What was sure, as the histories tell us, was that it would be the last time the great dragon, her rider, or his wife ever came back to the city.

[corruptedcaps]

Secret Crush

Amy’s eyes fluttered open, panic immediately setting in as she realized she was bound tightly to a chair. Thick ropes cut into her wrists and ankles. She struggled, breath quickening. Across from her, another figure groaned, Kayla, her high school nemesis, seated in a similar chair, squirming in frustration. Kayla’s glossy blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, her designer clothes crumpled but still perfect. Even tied up, she radiated confidence and superiority.

“Ugh, what the hell is going on?” Kayla snapped, tugging against the ropes. “What kind of sick joke is this freak?" She said pointedly at Amy.

Before Amy could respond with genuine confusion, the door creaked open. In walked Brad, a guy they both knew all too well. For Kayla, this impressive specimen of a man was her newest ex as of a week ago. For Amy though, he was her her secret crush. Even now in her captive state she couldn't help but admire his cocky grin, his sharp jawline and tousled dark hair.

“Brad!” Kayla spat. “Thank god! Untie me now! This freak kidnapped me and—”

Brad strolled toward them slowly, ignoring her demands. “I’ll let you go, Kayla. But only when I’m done.”

Kayla’s eyes narrowed. “Done? Oh my god you did this?”

"You were never the smartest were you K?" He said with a cold grin.

"You're sick! Is this some sort of revenge for breaking up with you? Because if you are wanting to get back together you can kiss that dream goodbye now!" Kayla yelled to an unfazed Brad.

“You dumping me was the best thing to happen to me. I realised you would only ever love one person. Yourself. I decieded I needed to find someone who wanted me. Who always wanted me.” Brad’s eyes flicked to Amy, and a slow smile spread across his face.

Amy’s cheeks turned red. She bit her bottom lip, heart pounding in a confusing mix of fear and anticipation.

Kayla scoffed. “Her? Seriously? Take that fugly bitch see if I care! You two losers can be happy together, just let me go!”

“It's not quite that simple. While I know Amy here has always harboured a secret crush on me, she's not exactly what I'm looking for in a girlfriend.” Brad said. “Well not yet. That's where these come in.”

He turned back to Kayla and produced a pair of oversized hoop earrings, the metal gleaming in the dim light.

“What… what are those?” Kayla’s voice cracked, panic replacing her usual confidence.

Brad grinned. “These little beauties are special. They’re going to take everything that makes you who you are, your beauty, your confidence, your bitchy charm and give it to someone more deserving.”

He slipped the earrings onto Kayla’s ears. Her body arched back violently, eyes wide with shock. A golden light pulsed from the hoops, illuminating the room as her skin paled, her glossy blonde locks darkened, and blemishes appeared across her face. The glow seemed to drain her essence, her cocky demeanor fading into quiet desperation.

“No… no, please…” Kayla whimpered as the light faded. She sat in the chair, her once-perfect appearance gone. Her shoulders slumped, her voice barely a whisper.

Brad plucked the earrings off her and turned to Amy. His eyes sparkled with excitement. “Your turn.”

Amy shook her head, trembling. “I-I don’t think—”

“Trust me.” Brad said softly, placing the earrings on her. “You’ll love it.”

The moment the earrings touched her ears, her head snapped back. A surge of energy coursed through her body. Her lips plumped, swelling into a perfect bitchy pout. Her waist cinched tight, the ropes slipping from her body as her tits swelled, her modest frame transforming into voluptuous curves. Her fingers stretched, nails growing into perfectly manicured talons.

Amy stood, slowly stretching, her movements confident and sensual. She looked down at her new body, her eyes gleaming with delight. A little smirk played across her lips as she touched her new earrings. She ran her hands over her now-flawless skin and luscious hair before turning her gaze to Kayla.

Kayla stared in horror, barely recognizable in her new, timid form.

Amy smirked, cocking a hip. “God, did I look I look that bad? It’s like looking in a funhouse mirror.”

Brad stepped closer, his eyes raking over her. “No one has ever looked that bad just like no one has ever looked as good as you do now Amy.”

Amy smirked, turning on her heel like a model strutting down a catwalk. She ran her fingers down her impossibly smooth legs, tracing her hips before tilting her chin up to admire herself in a cracked mirror on the wall.

“Good?” She purred, eyes locked on her reflection. “No, Brad, I look divine. I look like the kind of woman men worship. The kind of woman who can have anything or anyone she wants.”

She turned back to him, raking her nails along his jawline, her smirk widening. “And let’s be real, I was always meant to be the one on your arm. You just didn’t know it yet.”

Brad grinned. “I do now, Amy.”

She flipped her long, pigtails over her shoulder, rolling her plump lips together, feeling the weight of them, thick, glossy, perfect. Her movements entrancing Brad and making the buldge in his pants grow.

"Please darling, call me Aimee." She grinned as she turned turned, her eyes landing on Kayla, pathetic, weak, utterly plain. A cruel giggle bubbled in her throat as she took a slow, taunting step toward her, ready to berate her some more.

“My, my, my.” She cooed, tilting Kayla’s chin up with a single manicured nail. “Look at you. I mean… I knew you were nothing without your looks, but this?” She snorted, shaking her head. “This is just… tragic.”

Kayla flinched, avoiding Aimee’s piercing gaze. The once untouchable queen bee looked like a lost, mousy little thing, her dark, lifeless hair hanging limply around her gaunt, blemished face.

Aimee clicked her tongue. “Oh, don’t be so shy, Kayla. Where’s all that big, bad attitude now, huh? Where’s all that superior bitch energy you loved to throw around?” She bent down, her voice a stage whisper. “Oh, right. It’s inside me now.” She laughed, tossing her hair. “And God, it feels so much better on me.”

Kayla swallowed hard, looking away.

Aimee sighed dramatically. “Aw, don’t look so miserable, sweetie. I mean, sure, Brad took everything from you, but look on the bright side, you finally get to know what it feels like to be at the bottom.” Her grin widened. “How’s it feel? Being nothing?”

Kayla whimpered, her shoulders caving in. Aimee pulled back with a wicked laugh and turned back to Brad, kissing him deeply on the mouth. "Mmmm being a bitch is making me so horny baby, let's get out of here so you can fuck me in the back of your sports car."

Brad smirked and nodded, pulling her in close. As they walked toward the door, Aimee cast one final look over her shoulder at Kayla, her expression dripping with cruel amusement.

“Bye, loser.”

With that, she and Brad slammed the door shut, leaving Kayla alone in the cold, silent room, a shell of who she once was.

[wizard-on-whales]

Hi thereeee 💓 since I'm addicted to your fics, and I think you have a dirty mind like mine 😏, I was wandering if you'd like to write something about a younger reader which is recently dating James and they are at a wedding and they're really horny, they spend all the time teasing each other and in the end while they are dancing the reader teases him even more and James takes her to a isolated room and they have sex initially trying not to be noticed but then they lose control so that the groom (James' friend) discovers them and when they return to the party he makes jokes about what happened.

James from the Brioni commercial would be 🔥🔥🔥

Ps. I loooove dirty talking and details

(Sorry for my english, It's not my first language)

Center of Attention

NSFW 17+

Warnings: Unprotected sex, age gap, dirty talk, pet names, semi public?, caught, grammatical errors

Answering a request for once!

Word count - 2.5k

✭-----------------------------✭

It's crazy how quickly life can change. Less than a year ago you were struggling to pay your rent so you did something you never thought you would be desperate enough to do, find a sugar daddy. In the months that you've known him your relationship blossomed into something more and now you were slipping on a designer dress, getting ready to go to a wedding with him.

Underneath his brooding exterior, James was a very sweet and surprisingly sensitive man; all around a gentle giant. You had grown quite fond of him, maybe even obsessed. It was hard to not fall for that handsome smile and those pretty eyes of his, and even harder to not fall for him just from the touch of his hands.

His fingers danced lightly up your spine as he helped you zip your dress up, his gentle touches sending sparks through you. You turn and face him, smiling up at him before your eyes drink in the sight of him once more. The white button up with the sleeves neatly rolled up, showing off his tattoos, the dark colored vest cinching in his waist, those jeans that hugged his thighs perfectly…you wanted to devour him right then and there.

“See something you like?” He jokes softly, grinning down at you. You meet his eyes again and grin, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him into a kiss.

“Always,” You purr against his lips. He squeezed your waist and gave you a smirk, gladly accepting your slightly needy kiss.

“C’mon you little minx, we're gonna be late,” He chuckles softly, giving your ass a firm swat before removing his arms from you and grabbing his keys and wallet from the dresser. You follow behind him, looping your arm through his as you head out of the house. He opens the passenger door for you, helping you get in like a gentleman before rounding the car to the driver's side.

You had dated men in the past but none of them were like James. The appeal of an older man was everything you had dreamed of and more. Sure the age gap was frowned upon by most, the whispers you see people share when you and James are holding hands, the disapproving looks you get from friends and family, but what they didn't see was just how perfect he was. He had lived a thousand lives before you were even born, witnessed and experienced things you couldn't dream of and they all shaped him into the man he is.

The sweet kisses he would place on your forehead and hands, the lingering touches on your waist when he walked past you, the tight hold he had on your hand when another man looked at you the wrong way, those all showed how much he cared about you. And God, no man had ever pleased you under the sheets the way this one could. He knew how a woman's body worked and he sure as hell used that knowledge to his advantage.

James places his sunglasses on before backing out of the driveway, his hand resting on the back of your seat as he turns to look over his shoulder, a simple gesture but one that always got you a little warm. He reaches over and grabs your thigh as he drives, his thumb gently stroking the plush skin.

“You look damn good in that dress, babygirl,” He smirks at you, giving your thigh a squeeze. You smile, looking down at yourself and smoothing out a small wrinkle on the skirt.

“Thanks, baby…and you look damn good in that suit,” You slowly run your hand up his forearm and grab his bicep, giving it a squeeze.

“I can already tell you're not gonna behave tonight, are you?,” He chuckles, moving his hand from your thigh and taking yours off of his arm. He places a kiss on the back of it before looping his fingers through yours, his eyes barely leaving the road as he did.

“How could I when you look this good…are you sure we have to go? I kinda want to have you all to myself tonight,” You give his hand a squeeze, watching him closely as he drives, something simple that always turns you on. The way his hand always drummed along to a song against the steering wheel, when the windows would be rolled down his hair would get all tousled from the wind, and damn if he drove a stick shift, the sight of his hand around it, shifting the gears when needed it was enough for you to want to climb over the seat into his lap; Fortunately he was driving an automatic today which helped you restrain yourself from doing so.

“It's just for a few hours, then we'll have all night baby…you'll have freedom to do whatever you'd like to me,” He grins mischievously, the end of his sentence almost coming out as a growl.

The wedding venue was a close drive so it didn't take long to get there. James helps you out of the car like he always did, keeping you steady as you attempt to walk across the gravel parking lot in your heels. He made a joke about throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you which didn't help your already unholy thoughts.

The two of you quietly took your place at the back of the ceremony, watching the whole wedding with smiles on your faces. You didn't know his friend but you enjoyed the wedding nonetheless. When the outdoor ceremony was over everyone made their way into the building where the reception was held. It was beautifully decorated and was clearly a very expensive wedding. You looked around and admired the way everything looked as you stepped inside.

“Is this what you'd want?” James asks quietly in your ear as he leans over. His voice sends a small shiver through you as you look over at him.

“It's beautiful but not what I'd want. I'd want something smaller, more humble,” You say softly, giving him a small smile. He squeezed your waist and returned the smile.

“Thought you'd say that, that's one reason I like you so much, you like the simple things. I'd still give you everything if you asked for it though.” He leads you over to a small table where your names were placed on cards, pulling your chair out for you. The dinner was equally as extravagant as everything else. The portions were small like every expensive meal seemed to be but it was so good you couldn't complain.

The night slowly started to shift as people started to abandon their places at the tables and take over the dance floor. Throughout the night, James had slowly been giving you drinks, although he doesn't drink himself anymore, he had plans for you and it involved you being tipsy. He knew he'd never get you to dance with him otherwise.

“C'mon,” James pulls on your hand, trying to get you to head towards the dance floor. You felt dizzy and giggly already so you gladly agreed, letting him drag you with a wide grin.

James' plan of getting you tipsy enough to dance with him worked…but maybe a little too well. Your slow dancing soon turned into something more dirty. You shook your hips just the way he liked, had your hands all over his chest, unbuttoning a few buttons to reveal his tattoos underneath. He watched you intently, his hands gripping your waist firmly as you turned in his arms and slightly grind against him. He let out a low groan, only loud enough for you to hear over the music. You two were too absorbed in each other to see the eyes that were on you. Like always there was the disapproving glares from people who thought they were better than you, a few young and single guys clearly hoping they'll have a turn, and the groom grinning widely for his friend who was clearly enjoying himself.

James grips your hips, making you stop as you try to grind against him again. You look back at him with your half lidded and dazed eyes, leaning your body against his chest. That was his breaking point, James started to lead you away from the dancefloor, looking for a more quiet, secluded spot. You rounded a corner just out of sight from everyone, and James wasted no time to pin you against the wall.

“Fuck your such a tease, baby…getting me all bothered like that in front of everyone,” He grunts in your ear, keeping you pinned with one hand as his other one roughly hikes your dress up. He turns you around, pulling your ass against his crotch and grinding against you, desperate for frictions. You wiggle your hips a bit, smiling back at him over your shoulder.

He undoes his belt and pushes his pants down just enough to slip his throbbing member out of them, his tip already leaking with precum. He pushes your lace panties to the side and rubs his tip up and down your swollen folds.

“You're already soaked baby girl…need my cock that bad, huh?” He groans, his hand kneading the flesh on your ass before giving it a smack, making you moan softly.

“Dirty girl aren't you…always desperate to get fucked…” He plunges his hard cock into your walls making you moan again, your hands gripping at the wall he had you shoved against. He puts his hands on either side of yours, thrusting his hips against yours, his lips finding their way to your shoulder, kissing your shoulder blade. You move your hips back, meeting his halfway with each thrust. James notices how loud you seem to be already which caused him to move his hand to your throat, squeezing it just enough to quiet you but not enough to hurt.

“Gotta be quiet unless you want everyone to know how much of a slut you are. Getting fucked by a man twice your age where anyone can walk by and see,” He groans lowly in your ear. His foot kicks your legs further apart, his other hand gripping your hip and pulling your ass further against him, allowing him to go deeper. You let out a breathless moan, your eyes practically rolling back in your head as he desperately fucks you.

From this angle you could feel him all the way in your stomach, the pressure between your legs making them tremble. It was hard to support yourself against the wall with your wobbly legs and heels. James noticed this and wrapped his arm fully around your hips to support you, practically lifting you off the ground as he impaled you further against his cock. You could feel the coil in your stomach start to build, becoming too much already.

“Fuck….wait wait wait!” You squeak out the best you could, gripping the arm James had around your waist.. His movements stop as he looks at you, confusion and worry crossing his features. He releases his hand from around your throat, allowing you to take a full breath.

“What is it, babygirl?” He asks quietly, his thumbs gently rubbing your hips.

“Mmm…I just need a second…if you keep going I'm gonna make a mess,” You say with a small giggle, looking back at him with a smile. He grins at you before leaning closer to your ear, planting a kiss below it.

“Yeah? You gonna be a filthy girl? Make a mess all over us?” He practically growls in your ear, a wide smile on his face. He grips your hips and starts his movements back up but slower this time. You let out a soft moan and drop your head against the wall once more.

“Look at me…” He demands, giving your ass another small smack. You open your eyes and look back at him, meeting his intense gaze. He holds you close to him as he slowly pushes himself in and out of you, splitting you open to make room for his thick cock. He brings his hand down to your clit and gently circles the swollen nub, almost torturing you with his slow, erotic movements.

“Mmm…Jamie…” You moan softly, biting your lip as you keep watching him over your shoulder. He smacks your pussy lightly, making you squeal, your walls fluttering around him. He couldn't help himself as he picked up his movements again, wanting to feel your tight cunt squeeze him again.

“Fuck! Oh…mm close…so close,” You moan, your hands holding onto his arms tightly, supporting yourself against his body.

“Yeah baby? Gonna cum all over my cock?...fuck…go ahead, mm gonna fill you up so good,” He grunts, thrusting deeper into you, his hips smacking harshly against your ass. You feel the familiar sensation of your orgasm shutter through your body, making you squeal again, your legs giving out from under you. He holds you even tighter against him, pounding into you as he desperately chases his own climax. He quickly follows, shooting thick spurts of his seed into you and coating your walls.

“There you are, I was looking for you,” a third voice cuts you two out of your fantasy land, making you both jump and look over. His friend was leaning against the wall a few feet away, an amused look on his face.

“Fuck man, you just gonna stand there and enjoy the show?” James huffs, quickly pulling your dress down to cover you up and shoving himself back into his pants. You felt your cheeks burning as you turned around, fully facing both of them.

“I thought maybe you left before I even got a chance to talk to you. Turns out you were just a little busy,” He laughs, teasing you and James further. James rolls his eyes and wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him.

“Yeah yeah…have I introduced you to my girl yet?” James asks, grinning over at you, casually introducing you to his friend as if he didn't feel ashamed or modified by being caught. You swallow thickly, attempting to bite back your embarrassment as his friend holds out his hand for you to shake. You step forward, trying to ignore the feeling of James cum leaking out of you and down your legs as you accept the handshake.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom as the two men talk and catch up on old times as if none of that had happened. As you are cleaning yourself up you feel your phone buzz, causing you to pull it out. It was a short message from James but you felt a shiver run through you once more.

“I'm not done with you just yet…go to the car”

✭-----------------------------✭

[ashxketchum]

Now it feels like we’re celebrating the 25th Anniversary 😍

This new art for an upcoming collaboration with Karatez is just simply stunning. The theme is (very obviously) “idol” and I personally love the futuristic pop concept they’ve added to the outfits. Although exact date and merch details haven’t been shared yet, they shared a few layouts of the key art.

The outfits are also great this time around because of their little references to the partner Digimon’s Perfect evolutions. Listing them down one by one as always.

Taichi: The blue markings on his jacket plus robotic arm markings on his right sleeve are a nice shoutout to MetalGreymon.

Yamato: We see WereGarurumon’s pattern on his jacket and a few belts wrapped around his hands that captures the punk-grunge vibe of WereGarurumon well. It may be Yamato’s affinity to music, but he looks extremely in his element in this art, it’s not often we see him so raring to go in official merch art (he’s more of a soft smiles guy usually).

Sora: Her gloves and the red bandana on her arm coupled with the feather in her hair are clear shoutouts to Garudamon. It’s kinda funny to me that being the girl who’s crest is a heart symbol, she’s making a victory sign while Mimi and Hikari are both making different types of finger hearts 😆

Koushiro: Honestly they were really subtle with the reference for him and even twitter couldn’t exactly answer my doubts so I’m gonna have to see Koushiro stans step up and answer whether the reference in his outfit limited to the markings on his jacket resembling AtlurKabuterimon’s chest?

Mimi: I think she’s the one with the most easy to catch references, her skirt resembles Lilymon’s and her hair tie looks like Lilymon’s flower canon. I love that she’s making the big finger heart because it’s just so very Mimi. If Yamato suits the passionate side of being an idol, Mimi is definitely meant for the cutesy visual vibe that can make fans go crazy over just a wink and a smile.

Jou: He’s wearing three belt like bracelets around one wrist like Zudomon which makes his a minimal reference though not as subtle as Koushiro’s. I do feel that they could’ve done a bit more with his look, maybe add a horn to the side of his headset? I also can’t wait to see the full art for each kid individually cuz I do think him and Yamato are wearing similar bellbottom pants!

Takeru: The feather on his headset and the yellow suspended straps are a decent reference to HolyAngemon. Considering that they wanted to keep the outfits limited to one colour per kid, I think this is the best way they could slip in the reference, though I wouldn’t have minded a few rings.

Hikari: The feather on the headset, the corset-ish belt around her waist and her gloves are very nice references to Angewomon. Keeping Hikari’s innocence as a kid intact while referencing a Digimon that is undoubtedly considered one of the most sexiest mons in the franchise would have been really tough and I salute the illustrators for coming up with this design! I also like the OG Korean finger heart she’s making, such a cute look on her.

The cherry on top are each of the Digimon partners holding supportive cheering goods for their kids. Piyomon’s love for Sora goes hard with her big name banner. Meanwhile, Agumon and Palmon kept it simple with haoris, Tailmon and Patamon too decided to go the simple route with light sticks. Gabumon, Gomamon and Tentomon seem normal from afar with their hand fans but when you get a closer look on all the hearts around Koushiro’s name on Tentomon’s fan, you know the three spent time making those themselves.

All in all, a pretty amazing illustration to be able to get merch of!

But wait that’s not all, andGallery has also teased a future cafe collaboration with Digimon Adventure on their twitter, more info will be announced on 19th Feb but they did share a preview of what to expect.

[darlingshane]

Something Crazy

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: On Natalie's wedding day, life takes an unexpected turn when you learn that your former crush, Michael, might be interested in you.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Smut, P in V, Vanilla, Alcohol, Eating, Fluff, Crack, Pet Names, Kissing, Dancing.

Word Count: 4,6k

— You can read below or at AO3.

Today is the big day for your best friend Natalie. She's marrying her long-time boyfriend, Pete, and you've come back to Chicago for only two days to celebrate this lifetime milestone with them.

They've picked a perfect Saturday in the middle of spring to celebrate their union. Flowers are in full bloom, gardens are lush green, wind has calmed, welcoming a balmy weather to allow having a wedding ceremony outdoors.

Bright Sun rays slip like gold ribbons through the sheer fabric of the curtains as you carefully hang Natalie's gown and remove the garment bag. It's a simple but stunning empire dress, strapless, with lace and pearls adorning the corset. Though you've never fantasized about your own wedding before, as your hand slides softly along the skirt, you can't help but imagine yourself as a giddy bride, wearing that same dress.

Tying the knot is not on top of your list right now. Settling with someone? That's more likely to happen. But there's nothing like being chosen as the maid of honor, especially if you're single, to find yourself trapped in that Disney daydream of getting to meet your prince charming and live happily ever after. Hopefully, that unwelcome, sudden longing will vanish after a few drinks at the reception. Until then, your top priority is making sure your best friend's special day is as magical as she planned.

You're in the designated dressing room of the hotel with the rest of the bride's party laughing, sipping rosé, telling stories while the beautician works against the clock, getting all four of you primped and ready.

While you help Natalie get into her dress, Gigi comes back with a tray of pastries to soak the alcohol before anyone gets too drunk.

“You guys gotta see Mikey. He's so fucking hot I could die. I've never seen him all dressed up and clean like that,” she announces loudly, going around the room like a whirling handing croissants and muffins. “I swear to god his pants are so tight, it’s like looking into an x-ray photograph… you can see everything. And I mean everything,” Gigi stares at you, raising an eyebrow, while you stuff part of a croissant into your mouth.

“Ew, that's my brother,” Natalie frowns in disgust.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you say after swallowing part of your pastry.

“She's looking at you like that because, as we all recall, it was you who had a crush on him for the longest time,” the bride sharply indicates.

“She's got a point, babe.”

“I was like fifteen,” your tone pitches a little higher, as if you were still that age. “Why do you always have to bring that up?”

“Cause let's be honest, you were hung up on him for way longer than you said, and your face still lights up every time you see him. Why can't you just admit you're still love-struck?”

You open your mouth to counter her accusation, but words refuse to come out. You can't even lie for dear life cause admittedly, as fucking annoying as they are, they're also right. Michael was one of those crushes that was hard to shake off. Your friends quickly jumped from one infatuation to another, but you pinned for Sugar's cooler, slightly older brother for longer than you should have. And that's probably the reason every time all your friends get together, they use that embarrassing piece of information to tease you. Even if you ever wanted to forget, they'll never let you.

The last time you saw Michael in person was a few weeks ago for only a few minutes when you came to help Natalie with the last details of the wedding and barely exchanged a couple of words. You moved to Detroit for work three years ago, and the few times you've come back here, you haven't crossed paths with him that often. The soon-to-be married couple also forgo the rehearsal dinner altogether to save money, so you didn't get a chance to see him before the ceremony.

“All I'm saying is if you wanna take a stab at that, this is the perfect time. He's single, he has great hair, he's wearing a dope suit, and did I mention hot?” Gigi keeps cajoling. “Hell, I'll hit that, If you don't. So better act fast.”

“He always had great hair,” Samira agrees, downing the rest of her wine.

“And he asked about you the other day when I showed him the pics of our trip,” Sugar adds.

“Oh,” you try not to sound too pleased, cause you doubt he ever paid any attention to you. Why would he start now?

“Yeah, he was definitely checking you out, and loved that video of you at the karaoke bar,” Samira chimes in as she pours another glass.

“Okay, you're making that up. No more wine for you, missy,” you promptly snatch the bottle from your friend and put it away while they all laugh. “Wait… he saw the video of me singing?”

“Uh-hm.”

You file that information for later and once you are all dressed up, you hand Natalie a stunning bouquet of roses before leaving the room.

“Thanks,” she grabs your arm for a second as Gigi and Samira head out. “Sorry for making fun of you… again. You know we love you and that we just want the best for you.”

“I know,” you mumble timidly.

“Sweetie, you don't need my permission, but if you wanted to ask Michael out, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. He'd be lucky to have someone like you.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because… You've always been like a sister to me, and part of me wanted him to see how amazing you are, so I kept telling him about you. I showed him photos and videos, hoping that he would. And he did! He really loved that one of you vibing to TLC. Thought you were funny.”

“You told him, didn't you?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“I'd stab you if you weren't about to get married,” your serious tone makes her snort.

“Look, you’re not dating anyone. He’s not dating anyone… I could ask him if he's interested before Gigi swipes him up.”

“Nat,” you sigh into a heavy pause, looking into her clear blue eyes. “We’re not in school anymore, you don’t have to play matchmaker. And it's your day! The last thing on my mind is hooking up with someone. Let alone your brother. So drop it.”

“Just saying. It could really be a wedding present for me if you two were to…” you scowl at her, which makes her leave that thought unfinished.

“Okay, that's gross, let’s get you married, so I can kill you right after.”

“Alright, alright. I promise I won’t mention it again.”

In your lavender dress and matching heels, you wait for your cue as the wedding starts. The quartet starts playing. Once the officiant and the groom are in position, groomsmen, and bridesmaids walk down the aisle in pairs. You line up with the bridesmaids by the floral arch on the side of the bride in the lush garden and watch as Natalie walks down the aisle, escorted by both brothers, Carmen and Michael.

She looks radiant, but your stare darts slightly to your former crush. He’s dressed in a dark suit and royal blue shirt, no tie. His fluffy hair pushed back, shining under the sun like black licorice. His features are sharply defined as usual, but there's definitely a certain glow around him that makes him look more handsome than you remember.

Credit where credit's due, Gigi was right. They all were. He still manages to stir those intense feelings and butterflies in your stomach that you thought gone when your eyes meet for a split second as they get closer to the altar. There's also a glimpse of a smile in his lips, directed at you. Or so it looks like. Maybe you're making it up in the chaotic mess that is your mind.

Carmy and Michael kiss either side of Natalie's face when they reach the altar, and then they take their seats on the first row as she stands face to face with Pete.

The quartet stops playing, the officiant starts speaking, and you aim your focus to the ceremony.

Once Natalie and Pete are pronounced husband and wife, there's a time dedicated to take a few pictures of the wedding party in that very same garden before losing the natural light.

Despite promising she was going to let it go, your now-married friend insists on making sure you and Michael end up in several pictures together.

“Mmm… Marcus, is it?” you shake hands with him, pretending to have forgotten his name.

“Michael,” his grip is firm around your hand.

“Oh, sorry, Mario. I have a terrible memory.”

“Don't be cute. I know you remember,” he scoffs, amused, linking one arm around your waist per the photographer's instructions.

You swallow, nervously placing your hand on his firm back, trying to keep your cool. As the photographer takes a series of snapshots, Michael starts humming a familiar song. No scrubs. The one you sang in that famous video your friends filmed.

You press your lips together, and pretend you're not hearing it. It seems like they've all been scheming together against you, or in your favor. You're not sure. You know Sugar wouldn't do anything to make you uncomfortable, but this is getting ridiculous.

“Save me a dance later, would you?” he requests with a wink once the photoshoot session is over.

“I can't, Mitchell. I've already promised that to one of the groomsmen,” lie.

“You're gonna keep that bit the rest of the day?”

You shrug your shoulders, “it's not up to me, Marley.”

“Alright, come find me when you grow up.”

He presses his lips in a tight smile and walks away, leaving you dwelling in that awkwardness that washes over you, and wondering if he's messing with you or if he's suddenly into you. Those are good questions that you can't leave unanswered. If there's a chance that Michael Berzatto likes you, and that's a big IF, you really need to find out. The ball is in your court now. The question is… Do you want to throw it back?

The party moves to the banquet room in the hotel. There's plenty of food, drinks, music, and people in the room, but none of it can't distract you from the presence of Michael. This isn't how you expected to spend the day of your friend's wedding. And it's really going to bother you if you don't at least try to have a nice conversation with him. This is probably your last chance, so right after your heartfelt toast, you wipe your tears, throw back some liquid courage to walk up to his table.

He's nursing a glass of scotch, watching people on the dance floor, when you quietly take the empty chair besides him.

“No Richie today?” you break the ice.

“Oh, you remember his name but not mine?”

“Get over yourself, Michael. You know, I always got a little awkward when I was nervous. And unfortunately, it still happens.”

“Think you're doing pretty good right now.”

“Had a little help,” you tilt your glass in his direction.

“Well, I'm glad you decided to join me,” he nods and points at the bar where Richie is conversing animatedly with your friend Gigi. “I had to convince Sugar to invite him. Hope he behaves for my sake.”

“Oh no, you're a dead man. Nothing good is gonna come out of that.”

“How so?”

“They're both insane, divorced and desperate. That's a dangerous cocktail nobody wants to drink,” you point out.

“Yeah, you're right. I guess I didn't really think it through.”

“You're screwed, Berzatto,” you take a sip of your glass and turn your eyes from the bar to Michael. “You know I was just joshing earlier, right? It surprised me that you were so… Direct.”

“Men aren't usually direct with you?”

“No, I guess I haven’t been very lucky in that department… Or maybe I’m just a bitch with unreachable standards that scares away any potential suitors.”

“That would explain a lot.”

“Gee, thanks!”

“I’m kidding. I’m sure your standards are reasonable. And I don’t think you’re a bitch if that helps.”

“Yet you’re wondering why I came here alone?”

“Not really. I didn't bring a date, either.”

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“I dunno. Maybe I have really high standards, too,” he winks casually at you, knocking you out of your game.

You should have come prepared for this, but you never thought in a million years that Michael Berzatto would ever show any interest in you.

Still trying to figure out if you're picking up the right signals from him, you prop your elbows on the table and let out a sigh as he presses the rim of his glass to his mouth to take a swig.

You bite your lip and watch the guests swaying animatedly on the dance floor.

“So. Do you wanna dance?” he softly taps one of your arms.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Did your sister put you up to this?”

“Why would she?”

“Don't play dumb. I used to have the biggest crush on you, and if you didn't notice, I'm sure your Sugar has told you.”

His lips draw a lopsided smile. “She might have mentioned something a while ago, but she didn't put me up to this, I swear. This is all me. I only asked you for a dance. I didn't ask you to marry me.”

“I suppose a dance wouldn’t be that bad.”

“I'll take that,” he throws back the rest of his drink in one gulp, stands up, offering his hand up to you, “shall we?”

You were hoping to have some more time to prepare, but his sharp conviction is something you can’t reject. That’s part of Michael Berzatto’s appeal. He’s always been such a bold and outgoing guy, it's daunting. It’s good to see that hasn’t changed at all. The only thing that’s different is that now he’s wasting his charms on you.

With some apprehension, you follow his steps into the dance floor. There’s a mid-tempo song playing that you don’t recognize that makes you forget altogether how to move your body. So you just stand there, three feet away from him, like a deer caught in headlights, bobbing your head, avoiding his eyes.

Michael stares at you, slightly entertained by how uncomfortable you look right now, and throws you a lifeline by stepping closer, picking up your hands and placing them on his shoulders.

“What are you so afraid of, sweetheart?” he asks, planting his palms on your waist, guiding you slowly to move with him.

“I'm afraid that I'm not a very good dancer.”

“I doubt that.”

“Wait till I step on you,” you subconsciously look down at your feet.

“Follow my lead. You'll be fine.”

“Okay, Johnny Castle, but don't make me mambo, salsa, waltz… Or anything that requires taking my feet off the ground.”

“Who the hell is Johnny Castle?”

“Patrick Swayze? Dirty Dancing?” you question, as if it was the most outrageous thing that he hadn’t heard about that film.

“I’m more of a Road House kinda guy.” Of course, he is. “Was that another crush of yours?”

“Oh, big time!”

“Ok, got it, nothing fancy, we're just swaying. See?” His hands guide your body to move side to side, but it's impossible not to feel a little clumsy in your steps.

“Hey, what do you think of Pete?” He asks, using his head to point at the newly-weds.

“Uhh,” you glance to the side to see Pete wrapping an arm around Natalie, “he can be a total douche sometimes, but he's always sweet to her. I guess that's what matters. Why? What do you think about him?”

“Words out of my mouth.”

“Michael?” You glance up to his deep dark eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Be honest, why did you want to dance with me?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

Your lips pull up on the sides as your head nods.

“Cause I wanted to dance with the prettiest girl I've ever met.”

If this is a dream, you don't wanna wake up to find out that this was just a concoction of your mind. It's not. It feels real. If you weren't holding onto him, you'd fall to your knees after hearing his words roll past his beautiful lips.

There are so many questions you wanna ask, but you can only sigh, and smile wider under the sweet glow of his brown eyes fixed on you.

“You really think that I’m that pretty or interesting?” your mouth opens after a pregnant pause, at the same time the song switches to something incredibly romantic.

“I've always thought that. It just took me a while to realize it.”

“God, you have the perfect answer to everything. That's really annoying.”

“I don't. I swear. You just caught me in a good mood.”

“I don't remember you ever being in a bad mood.”

“I have my moments. Trust me.”

He unexpectedly picks one of your hands from his shoulder, lifts it in the air to have you spinning ungracefully under his elbow before quickly wrapping his opposite arm around your waist to dip you. He grins at the shocked expression on your face for a second before bringing your body upright.

“Please, don't do that again,” you brace your hands to his chest right after.

“Why? That was perfect, sweetheart,” he laughs, “Johnny Castle would be proud.”

Your lips curl softly, letting your palms tentatively slide on his blazer until they're caught on the warm surface of his neck.

“Am I making you nervous?” he dares to ask, knowing pretty much that he's driving you crazy.

“A little,” a lot, actually.

He whispers, – sorry – as you run your fingers at the hair at his nape. You observe up close how he licks his lips, noticing his hands clutching harder to your waist. His head leans closer, and you draw a breath, preparing yourself for having his lips colliding against yours. It feels like the world stops spinning for a second and just about when he's about to kiss you something, someone in this case, crashes against your back making you lose your balance. Michael anchors you to the floor quickly before you can fall, as a slurred-drunk voice apologizes at your back.

“Fucking idiot,” Michael mutters and checks on you, “you okay, sweetheart?”

You're not. The spell is broken, and your dress suddenly feels cold and wet from the drink that was spilled along your hip.

You excuse yourself, and rush out of the dance floor, so you can clean yourself up.

There’s a big surprise in the nearest bathroom you find, and that is your friend Gigi making out with Richie with such passion, they don't even notice you opening and quickly closing the door.

The tiny glimpse that you caught of Richie propping your friend on the sink and sliding his hands under her skirt makes your jaw almost fall to the floor. You wish you could erase that from your memory immediately, but at least it has made you forget momentarily about your dress.

When you turn around, you’re faced with Michael again. You ran out so fast you didn’t notice him following behind.

“What’s wrong?”

“Richie and Gigi,” smacking your lips, you point with your thumb to the door with no further explanation.

“Wow, they didn’t waste any time.”

“That's the thing about weddings. They make people do crazy things.”

“Tell me about it,” Michael looks down for a beat, licks his lips, and steps closer.

He holds your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up. As he leans to capture your mouth, you flinch, “what are you doing?”

“Something crazy,” the corners of his mouth quirk up, making another move, and you jerk your face a second time in reflex. It’s not that you don't wanna kiss him, you absolutely do. You just need another moment to process it.

“Damn, girl. Can you just stay still, so I can kiss you already?” He demands without an ounce of entitlement. Just driven by the desire to taste your lips.

“Alright, okay… just give me a second,” you yield to his craving, letting him slowly guide you, so your back is pressed against the wall.

There’s no escape now, this is the moment you’ve dreamed with many moons ago that seemed like a pipe dream back then. All those thoughts vanish the moment his lips are pressed against yours firmly, before letting them bounce a couple of times together. His alcohol-tainted breath mixes with yours as his lips part wider. He captures your lower lip with a light suck, followed by the tip of his tongue shamelessly drawing the curve of your mouth. It's deliciously sexy and sweet and everything in between. You close your eyes and follow his lead, opening your mouth and letting him slot his lips against yours. His tongue invades past your teeth without resistance. It challenges you to kiss him back. It takes you a moment to respond, but soon enough, you're fully immersed in the depth of his mouth, taking the reins of the kiss.

You haven't been kissed like this in a while. Maybe ever.

When your mouths separate, you realize your hands are anchored to his back, and he's fully pressed against you. His lips are covered in your saliva and vice versa.

“I'm going to change my dress,” you sigh, giving him a little push, so you can put yourself together.

“Oh… Okay,” there's a hint of disappointment in his tone.

You clear your throat and harness an ounce of confidence to ask, “do you wanna come? I might need some help. The zipper is a little tricky in this thing.”

Right.

His expression turns on a dime, eyes wide open, white edge teeth showing behind his slightly parted lips. Speechless by the implication of your proposal, he cleans his lips on his palm before responding, “I… sure.”

Proud of yourself for taking a gamble and hitting the jackpot, you go back inside the banquet hall first to collect your purse from the table and then head up to the elevators with him following closely behind.

A palm lands at the small of your back while you press the button. The anticipation makes your stomach flutter wilder than ever. Who would have thought you'd be taking Michael to your room on this day? It feels surreal. Absolutely bananas.

You don't say a word during the elevator ride up to the fourth floor.

When you reach your door, you notice his palms framing your hips from behind. His touch makes your pulse tremble while using the key card. It takes you a couple of tries to open the door.

There's a strange force, an electricity buzzing, that grows more powerful the second you're inside.

You hit the light switch, drop your purse on the chair and turn to face him.

Following that unstoppable whim, you place your palms on his chest and push back his blazer. He shrugs it off as you move to undo the few buttons he's fastened. Your fingers tremor anxiously as you uncover his defined torso. You want to stick out your tongue and trace those two lines forming a V oh his abdomen that leads to the outline of his cock behind the tight fabric of his dress slacks. It’s too bold of a move for you right now, so you let your fingers do your bidding.

When your hands reach his belt, they proceed to unbuckle it under the lust-filled shadow of that flame of his gaze that could scorch the surface of the earth if he wanted to in a second.

He’s already half hard when you unzip his fly, and that's as far as he allows you to go. Michael's dying to touch you, to undress you and fuck you. He quickly turns you around, making you gasp, and finds the zipper of your dress. Your skin rises into goosebumps when he pulls the tab down. He nibbles at the crook of your neck, pushing the top of your dress down to your waist. You shimmy your legs out of it as his hands invite themselves to your skin.

His all hands and mouth around you as he removes your strapless bra and guides you to lay down on the bed.

The fire that lights up his eyes sears through yours as he slips out of his unbuttoned shirt. He then props a knee on the bed, hovering over you, and lowers his head to kiss your stomach. His tongue darts out and draws a circle around your navel. Your head falls back on the mattress, as he leaves a trail of wet kisses up your torso. He nibbles once more at your neck, increasing your arousal up to eleven.

“Michael, please,” you groan as he presses himself between your legs, grinding slowly behind layers of fabric, coaxing your juices to stain your underwear and growing himself a hard-rock erection that can barely be held by his boxers.

Lifting lifts his head, he props himself on his elbows, and surveys the tortured expression on your face as his hips keep relentlessly moving.

“Fuck, you're goddamn gorgeous, baby,” he exhales, proceeding to swiftly rid you off your panties, and pushing his pants and underwear down.

He drives his hardness inside you with great care, pushing inch after inch of that monumental erection that stretches your slicked walls. You close your eyes as he experiments with his thrusting, molding your opening to its generous size.

“Is this how you imagined this?” he pants against the corner of your mouth.

“No. This is better… Much, much better,” you purr, palming his ass, encouraging him to move faster.

If you had a free hand, you'd pinch yourself to check if this is really happening right now. It still blows your mind thinking that Michael Berzatto is deeply buried inside you, wanting you, claiming every cell of your body for his enjoyment. You gladly surrender to his desires as the cadence of his hips drive you into madness. As much as you try to contain your moans, he does everything in his hand to force every moan, curse, and breath to fly out past your teeth.

He slams into you with passion, bites your skin, grips your tits, devours your mouth, setting every inch ablaze. It’s as mind-blowing as it is fast, but he earns himself a good squeeze of your walls when he brings you to orgasm. He comes undone just merely a second after, releasing a wild grunt that ripples all over your skin, and pouring all his warm seed into the depths of your pussy, having his hips jerking erratically until he’s spilled every drop.

His cum sticks to your walls as he rolls to the side of the mattress with a grunt. Your head is spinning out of its usual axis, overtaken by that powerful boost of endorphins, and your lungs struggle for a deep breath.

For a long minute, you both stare at the ceiling while you regain your breath.

When he composes himself, he turns to the side to look at you, sweetly letting one of his fingers brush your cheek, “do you wanna do this again tomorrow?”

“Can't. I'm leaving, remember?”

“Right.”

“But you can stay the night if you want. And repeat later. And maybe one more time even later. Would you like that?”

“I'd love to, sweetheart.”

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hi, Nausicaa)) I think I have a request a bit on the darker side so I’m not sure if you write it but I’ll take a shot.

ex-boyfriend James whose idea it was to break cause the reader didn’t like his lifestyle desperate to get her back? But not in kinda toxic/ obsessive way? He keeps sending her flowers, if she goes up on a date he ruins it, he makes sure her boss makes her work with Metallica, etc, he just can’t let her go? So she finally gives up and the first thing he does when they get back together is switching her birth control pills with vitamins as a child would make her his forever? I feel like reload or SKOM era would work best?

Don’t worry, I’m a very open-minded person. For me, the important thing is that certain limits aren’t crossed. That said, I hope you like it ❤

Warnings: persistent/obsessive (not toxic) behavior, non-consensual tampering with birth control (addressed within the story), complex family and co-parenting dynamics.

Note: The story concludes character growth, healing, and apositive focus on co-parenting and family unity.

-----

Reckless love

I hadn’t seen James in six months when I started feeling his presence again. It was like he never really left, his memory haunting every corner of my life. It started subtly, just a single flower at my door, then another, then a card. 

I tried to ignore it. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter. But deep down, I knew better. It was his way of trying to pull me back, to remind me of who we were. But I had already made the decision months ago. His lifestyle, his choices, they didn’t align with mine. I couldn’t be the woman he wanted me to be, not when I was suffocating under the weight of his selfishness.

He wasn’t toxic, not in the way people usually describe. He didn’t yell. He didn’t break things or make empty threats. He just needed. And I wasn’t enough anymore.

At least, that’s what I told myself as I threw another bouquet of roses into the trash. I wasn’t going back to him. I couldn’t. 

But James never took "no" for an answer. His love wasn’t a plea—it was a command wrapped in charm and regret. When I decided to go on a date with someone else, a quiet dinner at a local bistro, I didn’t expect to see him. I didn’t even see him at first, just a figure slipping into the corner of my peripheral vision. The date was going well. It was easy, simple, no heavy emotional baggage, just two people enjoying each other's company.

And then, out of nowhere, the glass of water I’d ordered exploded, shattering into pieces on the floor with a loud crash. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest as everyone in the restaurant turned to look.

James was standing in the doorway, a smug grin on his face.

"Sorry," he said, eyes twinkling with that mix of arrogance and charm I’d once fallen for. "I didn’t realize you were already occupied." His voice was too loud, too insistent. It was like he’d been waiting for this moment, planning it with obsessive precision. His casual stance suggested this was all part of his grand design. 

My date, a good guy, looked uncomfortable but tried to brush it off. I couldn’t, though. I couldn’t look away from James as he strolled toward us, his eyes locked onto mine.

"James," I said, my voice steady but my hands shaking. "What are you doing here?"

"Just making sure you’re alright," he replied, his tone smooth and unbothered. "Seems like you were going to need more than water to wash that taste out of your mouth." He threw a glance at my date, who had awkwardly stood up, clearly trying to process what was happening. "Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to interrupt."

The smile that followed felt like a slap to my face. It was a smile that had once melted me, made me believe his words when he said things like, I can’t live without you or You’re the only thing that matters to me. Now, it was a weapon, a hollow gesture meant to make me feel small, to make me doubt my own decisions.

Before I could say another word, my date excused himself, quietly slipping out of the restaurant. James had already won. And once again, I was left standing with my heart twisted in my chest.

The flowers continued to come. Roses, lilies, daisies—each one a reminder that James wasn’t going to let me go without a fight. But there was something else he was doing, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Every time I went to work, it seemed like there was a new task assigned to me—things I’d never asked for, projects that kept me at the office late into the night. And then, one day, my boss dropped the bombshell.

"You’ll be working with Metallica on the upcoming project," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "James suggested it. He thinks you'd be perfect for the task."

I froze. Metallica? The band? No. No, it couldn’t be. But sure enough, when I walked into the office the next day, there he was, sitting in the corner with that goddamn smirk, pretending like everything was normal.

I wanted to scream, wanted to run. But I couldn’t. Not yet. He was everywhere now, like a shadow I couldn’t escape.

Time passed, and I began to wear down. Every part of me wanted to move on, to be free, but his persistence kept pulling me back. It was like trying to swim against a riptide. One day, after weeks of him subtly inserting himself into my life, I gave in. We met for coffee. It wasn’t a date. It was just a conversation, a chance to clear the air, to see if we could find some kind of common ground.

He was different, or so I told myself. Apologetic, regretful. There was no arrogance now, no charm. Just vulnerability and a plea for another chance.

"I can’t stop thinking about you," he said, voice raw, eyes pleading. "I’ve tried, believe me, I’ve tried. But every time I think about you, I know I’ve messed up, and I want to fix it. I want to make it right, for us.

I wanted to believe him. I really did. Maybe he had changed. Maybe he was the man I had once loved again. I wanted to forget the things I knew were wrong, to see only what I wanted to see.

And so, I did what I always did when I let him back in: I let him back into my life.

At first, it was slow. Small gestures. He would pick me up from work. He’d cook me dinner. We’d laugh together, reminisce about old memories. It felt like we were starting fresh.

But then, one evening, I started feeling a little off. A little more tired than usual. It had been a long week, sure, but something felt... wrong. My head was foggy, my stomach uneasy.

And then, I found it. In my purse, nestled between my wallet and the receipts, was a tiny bottle of vitamins. I frowned. I didn’t remember buying them, but I shrugged it off. I took one, trying to steady myself. The next morning, the fog hadn’t lifted. And the next, I began to notice a pattern. My birth control pills, the ones I had kept so carefully, so meticulously, were gone. Replaced with those stupid vitamins. 

I stared at the bottle, the weight of what he had done crashing down on me. James hadn’t just invaded my life again. He had crossed a line—a line that was not just about my autonomy, but my future. 

I had known, deep down, that he couldn’t let me go. But this? This was a new level of manipulation. He didn’t want to love me, not truly. He wanted to own me. And a child would ensure that I was his forever.

I confronted him that night. I didn’t shout. I didn’t cry. I simply stared at him, all the anger and hurt pouring into my eyes.

"What did you do?" I asked, my voice calm, almost too calm.

His eyes widened, but he didn’t deny it. "I... I didn’t want to lose you. I thought—"

"You thought what? That trapping me with a child would make me stay?" The words were sharper now, cutting through the fog of emotions I’d buried for months.

"I thought it was the only way. The only way to keep you with me," he whispered.

I could barely look at him. I had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but this? This was beyond anything I could excuse.

"You’ve crossed a line, James," I said, the weight of finality in my voice. "I can’t be with someone who sees me as nothing more than a means to an end."

He didn’t argue. He didn’t try to justify himself anymore. He just stood there, watching me walk away, finally understanding that his desperation had cost him everything.

But as I stood at the door, about to leave him behind once more, something else hit me. There was a new weight in my chest, something more than just betrayal or hurt. Something that terrified me. 

"I’m pregnant," I whispered, the words barely a breath on the air between us.

His face went pale. The realization struck both of us like a thunderclap. For a moment, neither of us spoke. We stood there, the past hanging heavy between us, and the future now uncertain.

"James..." I said softly, the truth sinking in. "I can’t keep living like this. But I can’t do this alone either."

His eyes softened, a vulnerability I had never seen before filling them. "I know," he said quietly. "I’ll do whatever it takes. For the baby. For you. I’ll respect your space, your choices... but I’ll be there. I swear."

And in that moment, something changed.   We weren’t back together in the way we once had been, but we were something new. Something that, despite the messy history, could still be rebuilt—for the baby.

The next few months weren’t easy. Every conversation was laced with the tension of everything that had come before. But there was a shift in James, a sincerity that hadn't existed before. He didn’t push for anything more than what I was willing to give, and I respected that. His actions—more than his words—spoke volumes. He showed up for appointments, helped me when I needed it, and above all, he never once tried to pull me back into a relationship I wasn’t ready for.

We talked about co-parenting, about making sure our child knew that both of us would always be there, no matter what had happened between us. He apologized, truly apologized, for everything—his actions, his manipulation, his mistakes. And while it wasn’t a perfect apology, it was enough.

The day I found out I was having a boy, I couldn’t stop myself from crying. James was with me, holding my hand, and there was a moment, just a fleeting moment, when I thought—maybe this could work. Maybe we could be a family, in the truest sense of the word, even if it wasn’t the family we once imagined.

We didn’t rush back into anything. But we shared in the moments that mattered—the first kicks, the baby shower, setting up the nursery. It wasn’t about romance. It was about creating a safe, loving space for our child, one where they would never feel the weight of our past mistakes.

And when the baby was born, tiny and perfect, the first thing James did was hold him and whisper softly, “I’ll make it up to you. I swear I will.”

I didn’t know what the future would hold for us. I didn’t know if we would ever find our way back to the kind of love we once had—or if we were meant to stay apart. But for the sake of our son, we chose to stay in each other's lives. To raise him as best as we could, with all the care and respect we could offer, despite everything that had come before.

And maybe that was enough.

As I watched James with our son, I saw a man who had changed, not because of some grand gesture or manipulation, but because of the responsibility he now felt. He wasn’t perfect. Neither was I. But in that moment, holding our child between us, it didn’t matter. We weren’t a couple anymore—but we were something even more important.

We were a family.

And maybe that was all we could ask for.

[thevelria]

It's going to be messy (NSFW/mafia!Gojo x fem!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: full of violence, blood, torture angst and death.

Wordcount:2332

Author's note: Thanks to my lovely @ladycheesington for the help <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was supposed to be a simple day. Just a day filled with shopping and having some time alone. You decided to take a break and free your mind from everything. Nowadays things have gotten a bit rough. Gojo seemed tense and anxious, which worried you a lot, but it didn’t matter how many times you tried to make him talk, he turned you down in an instant.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” you furrowed your brows. He looked way too off that morning.

“Nothing, really.” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m gonna take a day off.” you changed the subject, getting tired of the obvious lies.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll need some time alone, far from all of this…” you clicked your tongue, finishing your breakfast and getting up from the kitchen table. “I’m not stupid, ‘Toru. I know something’s happening. So I need some distraction.” you shrugged. “I might go shopping.”

“Just be careful, okay?” he stood up and walked to you, gently caging you at the counter. “It’s dangerous outside. I should send someone with you..” he bit his inner cheek.

“No way!” you snapped “I want to be alone. Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen.”

You pecked a quick kiss on his rosie lips before freeing yourself from his embrace. 

The weather wasn’t pleasing that day, slightly raining, even foggy. Autumn arrived with all its benefits and disadvantages. But you didn’t mind it at all. Walking down the street in the middle of the city, wondering where you should start your shopping session. One of your favorite authors had just published their newest book, so you decided to visit a nearby bookstore. 

You wandered around feeling pretty relaxed, placing a bunch of books into your cart before checking out and already daydreaming about getting home later, reading in your special spot at the house.

Gojo had surprised you with a cozy room in the mansion last year, because he knew how much reading meant to you and as always he wanted to make you happy. It looked more like a library with all of your books and manga. A huge window with a wide ledge was your favorite spot to slip into the world of stories. The other corner had a comfy rocking chair with a cute coffee table next to it. Everything was designed and  furnished in your own unique style. It was definitely your safe place. 

As you zoned out, you smiled at the sweet thoughts and did not notice the huge black van pulling over next to you.The loud slam of the opening side door snapped you back to reality. 

“Grab her!” you heard someone yelling, noticing three men in full gear, with masks on their head. 

“What the fuck…” were the only words you were able to press out, before you felt an uncomfortable pain in your neck. The world turned into darkness instantly. 

***

A bucket of ice cold water woke you up. The sudden uncomfortable feeling crawled under your skin, causing you to shoot your eyes wide open, slightly choking on the water that got into your nose. 

“Good morning, princess.” a scary looking guy grinned at you. “Now that you are finally awake, we can talk about business, yeah? We will need some info about your lovely man.”

“You are so going to be fucked up!” you hissed, wanting to raise your hands, when you realized you were tied up in a chair. Thick, wide leather straps held you still, both on your wrists and ankles. 

“Be a good girl. I really don’t want to ruin your pretty face.” he clicked his tongue. 

The first two slaps felt like sharp blades on your skin, you were sure he ripped your lip up. But you were stubborn, focusing on not letting out a single noise. Oh, no, you were not going to give him the pleasure to see you suffer. You gulped hard as you took a deep breath, clenching your jaw, while looking directly into the man’s eyes.

“He’s going to kill you for this.” you spat some blood on the floor.

After receiving some more, even harder hits your head became dizzy and your vision got blurry. 

“Start talking, bitch!” The man got more and more impatient and was becoming annoyed by your attitude. 

“Jeff!” another man walked into the room, sounding frustrated “What can possibly take so long?”

“She’s not talking, Dave.” Jeff rolled his eyes.

“Well, then it seems it’s time for me to force those words out..” he growled, while standing next to a metal trolley cart, picking up some kind of pliers. Fear flashed in your eyes, because you knew…you knew it was going to be messy.

***

“C’mon baby, pick up the phone.” Gojo hummed, while walking back and forth in his office. He had been trying to reach you all day long without any success. After you not answering his call for the 3rd time he knew something was off. 

“Kento.” Gojo rushed into the living room. “I need your help, I think something happened to Y/N.” His voice was filled with fear and desperation.

“What? Why?” he jumped off the couch in an instant.

“I cannot reach her. I tried to call her millions of times, but she didn't pick up. She would never do that!”

“Fuck.” Nanami hissed “Do you think they took her?”

“If anything happens to her…” Gojo clenched his jaw.

“I’m going to gather the boys. We will find her, okay? She’s going to be alright, man. Don’t worry, your woman is a tough one!” Kento tried to keep Satoru from going insane.

***

“Do you think you are smart, huh? Do you think we can’t break you?” Dave gritted his teeth right in front of your face. Touching your cheek with a sharp knife, leaving behind thin lines of cuts. You felt your warm blood running down your jaw, dripping slowly on your chest. “If you expect me to stop at this point… I won’t.” he let out a manic chuckle, stabbing the blade deep into your shoulder right above your collarbone. 

The urge to scream was almost impossible to reject. Tears rolled down your cheek as your whole body started to wobble.

“I can’t wait to see them gut you like a fucking fish.” your words bursted out like poison. 

“Them?” he looked confused.

“Why? Do you really think Satoru would come alone?” you let out a pitying laugh “We are a family, moron… And you took someone you shouldn’t even think of touching.”

Dave felt humiliated and nervous at the same time, but he didn’t want to admit it. So he simply knocked you out with one hard punch.

***

One of Gojo’s informers confirmed your location in a warehouse at the edge of the city. An abandoned area, mostly used by gangsters for business.

“We need to surprise them.” Gojo’s eyes flashed in fury. “We won’t have much time. If we fuck up they will kill her and I cannot let it happen. None of you can let it happen. Understand? Protect her at any cost!”

“Understood!” all the boys answered.

“Everyone’s ready?” Gojo took a frustrated breath.

“Yeah.” Nanami nodded slightly as he got into the car. “Yuuta will come with us. Megumi and Yuji are taking the other car as you asked.”

“Good. Good.” he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. 

Gojo had a theory of you being kidnapped by the Kenzo’s clan. He was almost sure, as he’s just turned down  some dirty business with them. They wanted to spread drugs at Gojo’s territory , but he said no without hesitation. Words followed words and in the end they swore to God he was going to regret his decision. The head of the family promised he would be ruined in every possible way. Satoru didn’t take it too seriously. Big words from a small man, nothing much. But it seemed he unfortunately underestimated them and didn’t pay enough attention to safety. 

During the ride they discussed the plan again and again and again. Satoru took a nervous breath, before pulling over and getting out of the car. All the boys arrived to save you and avenge the fact they were stupid enough to even put their filthy hands on you. 

As they moved in stealth, they peeked  through a small window, seeing you sitting in a chair, tied up. Your head hung low, blood all over your body. One of the fuckers just grabbed your hair, pulling your head up. The second your tortured face flashed Gojo became feral. 

“Fuck” Nanami hissed. 

“We need to go in, right now!” Yuuta’s breathing got heavy.

“Kill all of them, except that motherfucker. He’s mine.” Gojo’s cold voice scared even his men. They knew their boss was ruthless, but couldn’t even imagine what he was capable of, when it was about you. Well, they were about to find out soon. 

You blinked slowly and feebly. After all, you lost a lot of blood and were tortured for hours without any break. The only thing that kept you sane was thinking about him. You knew he was coming for you, you were sure he already knew where he could find you. In that case your only job was to hold on until he arrived. Still you didn’t make any noise and especially not telling them anything. 

Dave became way too angry. “If you don’t start talking then it’ll be for the best to kill you right here, right now. I’m gonna send your fucking head to Gojo. Maybe it will be a beautiful present to that arrogant piece of shit. He thinks he's untouchable. But how will he react, when he sees your pretty face in a fucking cardbox?” 

“Baby, please hurry. Please, please.” you mumbled under your nose.

“What was that?” Dave sat on his heels next to you “What did you say?”

“Fuck you!” you spat some blood right into his face. Dave stood up and was about to punch you once again. But as his hand was high in the air the door of the warehouse exploded. A huge amount of smoke infested the building. Kenzo’s people started to cough and panic.

“I can’t see shit!” Jeff whined, trying to find an exit, but instead he bumped into Nanami, who sliced his throat with one precise slash. Jeff slammed his hands against his neck, before collapsing to the ground, writhing with agony, choking on his own blood. 

Yuuta got around the building and got in after breaking a window. Two fully armored men were standing next to some huge card boxes, babbling in panic.

“Surprise, fuckers.” he hissed, as he reached back and pulled his sword out from its holder. Two men, two swishes. He clicked his tongue casually as he saw two heads rolling away.

Yuuji smashed the head of one of the men so many times into the wall that it became smudgy. Megumi’s manic laugh scared the shit out of his opponent. It didn’t take long for him to execute the begging man. He kept hitting and kicking him long after the guy was gone. 

Gojo made eye contact with you as he walked towards the guy. He asked you to stay quiet by slowly lifting his index finger to his mouth. You nodded slightly, trying to distract Dave.

“Any last words, bitch?” Dave laughed. He was determined to kill you.

“You’re fucked!” A cocky smirk crawled upon your face as Satoru reached the man from behind. 

“Close your eyes baby!” you heard him and for a second you obeyed. Dave’s unbearable scream made you shiver. After you opened your eyes, you froze from the shock of seeing Gojo grabbing the man’s throat, and stabbing a massive knife into his lower stomach. Slowly cutting him all the way up to his chest. As the blade stuck into a bone Satoru clicked his tongue irritated. Raising his leg up, propped his foot on Dave’s pelvis, he kicked the now dead body off of the blade. 

Your bewildered, loud laugh made Gojo snap his face at you. You just kept laughing louder and louder second by second. “Darling?” he ran to you finally, starting to free you from the straps, which dug deep into your flesh. 

“I told him.” tears were running down your face, mixing with the blood from the laughter “I told this fucker that you were going to gut him like a fish!”

Gojo froze in his action, he couldn’t decide whether to hug you, kiss you or be terrified from the thought of what actually happened to you during the hours you were here. 

“I’m so sorry, my love. I am so sorry. It’s all my fault!” he kept babbling while freeing you entirely. 

Even if your mind was clear your body wasn't able to function correctly. So the second you tried to stand up, your legs gave up and you almost collapsed to the ground. Gojo grabbed you, picked you up bridal style and started to walk out. “I didn’t tell them shit, ‘Toru. I kept my mouth shut. Didn’t even let them hear me scream, no matter how much they tortured me.” you smiled weakly, before passing out in his arms.

That was the point where he gave in and started to cry like a child. He didn’t care what the others would think, he let his tears run down his cheek. The guilt in him almost ate him up, an unbearable knot in his stomach, which felt like it was tearing him apart. 

The woman, you, right in his arms risked her own life just to keep his information hidden from an enemy gang. He wanted to scream, yell and rage at the same time. But he also felt something else. That he was going to marry you, because you were the perfect woman for him. And he wanted nothing else, but to call you his pretty, little wife for the rest of his life.  

[lunedegivre]

Mist of Chaos (part 3)

A/N: Got few requests about Fanfic with Aria Witcher's AU. I'm not quite used about how tumblr works, so i hope the anonym person who asked me for this prompt will read this! “ tissaia finally finds her but aria is badly beaten up after the fight, so tissaia takes care of her?” I just wanted to add, english is not my first langage, i write first in french and then, i do my best to translate but even if i'm used to read in english i can still do some mistakes! i'm sorry for that ♥

Pairings: OC x Tissaia , also Triss a little

Summary: Aria is Still fainted. Word count: 1421

Warnings: Blood, Fainted body, Severe wounds. Part 1 Part 2 Part 4: (will be more a bonus idk i didn't planned this to be this long bahaha) ----------------------------

The silence stretched through the room. They had been waiting for a while now, the hours slipping by slowly. Triss had taken refuge near the fireplace, while Tissaia had not moved an inch, her eyes fixed on the motionless figure lying in her bed. The flickering firelight danced across the bounty hunter’s sleeping face, her brows slightly furrowed, still, somehow, in pain.

Nymeria had curled up against Aria once again, nestled against her hip, meticulously grooming herself. The animal hating being dirty. The sounds of her cleaning filled the quiet room, blending with the crackling fire. The other redhead had tried to approach her at one point, but the marten had hissed, refusing to let her touch her. Tissaia had observed the scene with a raised brow, it was rare for an animal to dislike Triss. But perhaps this one was special, after all.

- You can leave if you want, Triss. I won’t keep you here all night.

The rector’s voice broke the silence, making the other woman nearly jump. Triss turned toward the archmage, frowning slightly, but Tissaia wasn’t even looking at her.

-..Are you sure?

No response came. After a quiet sigh, Triss finally rose to her feet, understanding the implicit dismissal. She approached the bed, resting a hand on Aria’s forehead, as if assessing her condition, or perhaps offering silent reassurance. She was beginning to grasp what was unfolding here, but she chose not to comment.

-Alright. But if you need me…

-I know.

And with that, she made her way to the door. Before leaving, she cast a glance at the archmage, still so rigid, hands clenched in the fabric of her dress. Offering a small, knowing smile, she quietly closed the door behind her.

Silence fell again, and Tissaia inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a brief moment. Everything was too still. The atmosphere wasn’t peaceful, it was suffocating, heavy, thick with an unbearable anticipation that twisted in her gut.

She finally moved, slowly. Her fingers brushed against the sheet before hesitating over Aria’s hand. Her skin was cold, too cold for her liking, despite the warmth of the blankets. The mage tensed. She didn’t like this. Withdrawing her hand, she made a subtle gesture, and the room brightened slightly. The fire in the hearth burned stronger.

Her gaze once again drifted over Aria’s body, taking in the old scars and the fresh wounds still in the process of healing. Bruises were already forming on the visible parts of her skin, especially her face, a testament to the blows she had taken.

But then, her attention fell on the tattoos. Now that Triss was no longer there to witness, the rector allowed herself to linger.

Tissaia examined the inked designs stretching across her skin, still unmoving. They were a delicate, elegant work that clashed with the brutal image Aria often projected. The curve of the flowers followed the line of her arm with unexpected grace, the composition almost resembling an engraving.

She had never wondered why Aria had chosen to get tattooed. It was common to symbolize allegiance to a clan or a particular group. But Aria belonged to neither. Yet, now that she saw the patterns up close, something told her this wasn’t just about aesthetics. It was too simple for her to have done it on a whim.

Her gaze slowly traveled back to Aria’s face.

- What am I going to do with you…? she murmured.

Of course, no answer came.

But just as she was about to finally look away, the young woman shivered, her brows drawing together. A faint whimper slipped past her lips. Tissaia straightened immediately, holding her breath.

-Aria?

She winced, her breathing quickening slightly, her face contorted in discomfort. Her head shifted against the pillow, a rough, pained sound escaping her before consciousness finally clawed its way back to her.

Slowly,so very slowly, Aria’s eyelids fluttered before parting, just slightly, revealing a glimpse of unfocused, dazed blue. She blinked a few times, sluggishly, trying to grasp where she was, why she was in pain. But then, her gaze settled on the blurry silhouette sitting at the foot of the bed.

She seemed to strain, a long moment passing before, barely above a whisper, her voice broke the silence.

-…Tissaia?

Tissaia felt a tension she hadn’t even noticed dissolve within her. The voice was hoarse, wrecked with exhaustion and pain… But it was hers. The rector allowed no visible sign of relief, but her heart picked up its pace.

-Yes, she replied, her voice softer than she had intended. I’m here.

Aria blinked slowly again, clearly struggling to gather her thoughts. Then, in an unconscious gesture, her hand twitched slightly, brushing against Tissaia’s fingers.

-You… came?

A silence settled.

Tissaia could have answered immediately. She could have told her it was obvious, that she was being reckless, that she had worried. But she didn’t. Instead, she simply let the barest trace of her fingers graze Aria’s in return. A minuscule gesture.

-Of course, I came. Otherwise, you would have never made it back.

Aria seemed to fight against the haze, her brows knitting as she struggled to piece together the fragments of her memory. Her gaze flickered downward, taking in her own body, partially hidden beneath the sheets but still marked by dried blood, bandages, and the lingering glow of healing magic. Then, it drifted back up to Tissaia, scrutinizing her face with unsettling focus. As if making sure she was real. As if afraid this was nothing more than a fever dream.

-…How long… How long did it take me to get back? she finally murmured.

Tissaia hesitated for the briefest second before answering.

-A week.

Aria blinked again, absorbing the information.

-A week… she echoed faintly, stunned.

She attempted to move, wanting to sit up. A sharp jolt of pain shot through her, making her whine. Her fingers clenched weakly.

-Don’t move, Tissaia ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Aria groaned in frustration but obeyed, sinking back against the pillow. Her former mentor never took her eyes off her, assessing every minute movement. Then, after a weighted silence, she moved to retrieve the vial Triss had left for her awakening.

-You’re safe now, she said, quieter.

Aria stared at her. Her gaze searched for something, anger? Blame? Some emotion she could grasp? But Tissaia remained unreadable as ever. So, with a tired sigh, Aria let her head fall back, shutting her eyes briefly before muttering:

-You look pissed.

Tissaia raised an eyebrow, turning back toward her, the vial in hand.

-Obviously.

Something in Aria’s chest tightened. The archmage continued.

-You were unconscious for over a day. Triss and I had to close deep wounds. You were in a deplorable state. Now drink this, it will help stabilize the pain.

Aria reopened her eyes, studying her with new seriousness. Her gaze flickered between her face and the potion. She wanted to ask something, but insolence won over.

-I’m still alive, aren’t I?

Tissaia’s lips pressed into a thin line, her expression darkening.

-Barely.

Silence fell once more. Then, slowly, Aria moved her hand, taking the potion. Her fingers brushed against her former mentor’s as she did. She lifted the vial to her lips. As Tissaia returned to her place at the foot of the bed, the liquid passed her throat, it was surprisingly sweet. She had expected something vile, but swallowing wasn’t much of a struggle. Setting the empty flask beside her, she exhaled, her hand dropping limply at her side.

Her gaze fell on the rector’s hand nearby. In the stillness, she hesitated a second, then reached out, sliding her fingers between Tissaia’s in a timid, uncertain motion. Tissaia didn’t move. Her eyes dropped to their intertwined fingers, this fragile, hesitant touch so foreign between them.

Then, after a moment, she withdrew gently, straightening with composed precision.

-Rest, Aria. We’ll talk later.

The redhead gave a faint, weary smile.

-You’re planning to scold me, aren’t you?

The rector merely looked at her. Aria let out a quiet chuckle that quickly turned into a grimace, letting her head fall back, exhaustion taking hold once again. But just before sleep reclaimed her, she murmured, barely audible:

-Thank you.

Tissaia, already reaching to adjust the blankets, paused briefly.

She didn’t reply. She simply pulled the covers over the young woman with an almost imperceptible gentleness.

Then, this time, she pulled a chair closer, settled beside the bed, and reached for one of her grimoires resting on the nightstand.

[boredwritergirl]

Day 5 - The Starving Artist

The Starving Artist

Eloise always wanted to go to Paris, and she did. She had struggled, hitchhiking along the French countryside with little to no money until she finally got there. There was only one problem though; it’s 1944 and the Nazis still control the country.

Her once beautiful homeland was no longer this haven of artistic freedom she believed it to be. Eloise was 18 now, living on the city streets of a capital under occupation. Her once hip and trendy clothes, now dirty and rotting away as this homeless artist would earn little money and spend it all on bread and wine.

How she earned money was simple, She’d work for the revolutionaries. When she came to town, the Nazis burned her paintings, citing that she made people look “Too Jewish” and that her paintings had “Anti-Patriotic Ideas”. What a load! Eloise thought, This is my country, and paintings kicking out our invaders are patriotic!

She threw an empty wine bottle onto the ground next to her, shattering it into tiny pieces as she just sat there, scowling at it. Eloise stood up and wiped the shards of glass off her once bright red coat as if that’d make it any more clean.

As she walked down the city streets, she tilted her beret down, not wanting to make eye contact with the drunk Nazi soldiers just looking for a woman to harass. Far too many of them out this time of night. She huffed her coat around her to appear even more masculine as she slipped right into the dingey hospice clinic. 

Walking inside, she immediately ran into Céline, A nurse who was also a revolutionary. She’d look gorgeous if not for the miscellaneous bloodstains across her face. Her sharp, slender features were covered in a dirty and stained nurse’s garb. 

Céline had baggy, bloodshot eyes and a cigarette in her mouth. She was desensitized to the horrors of war and calmly blew a puff of smoke in Eloise’s face as she walked inside. “Took you long enough.”

Eloise grumbled, “The SS were giving me looks, I had to be careful.”

Céline scoffed, “Whatever, just take your usual spot. You know what to do.”

Eloise nodded, still clutching onto the briefcase she hitchhiked all the way to Paris with as she walked into the patient’s room in the corner of the building.

Inside the room was an unconscious old woman lying in her bed. To think, she might have been beautiful once. Another victim of the tyranny of the passage of time, among other tyranny’s. 

Eloise sat down on a stool beside the bed, immediately opening up her briefcase and taking out some pencils and paper to sketch her out. She studied every contour of the wrinkled old woman, her frumpy body, her pale hair and even paler skin. She spent an hour sketching every little detail about the woman in the bed, thinking to herself, Can I even paint the horrors of war anymore? Will anyone even feel the pain and disgust of seeing someone in this shape? I bet some of those monsters would think it’s beautiful, the worst of the bunch even getting off to it.

Céline briefly walked into the room, handing Eloise a note, staring dead into her eyes. 

Elosie nodded without a word, showing Céline that she understands. After all, she’s done this many times before. She does her art at the clinic, receives a note from Céline, hides it in an empty wine bottle and leaves it at a designated drop zone for another resistance member. It was a lot of planning and hassle to move information around without the Nazis knowing, but it was what they had to do.

As Eloise took the note, Céline left the room, her footsteps drowned out by the sounds of the busy hospice care.

But then, the old woman started to grumble, her eyes slowly opening halfway. “Where… Where is Antoine?”

Elosie looked shocked, caught off guard by the elder. “I’m sorry, who are you talking about?”

The elderly woman groaned, “My son, Antoine. He was stationed at Verdun, he’s supposed to visit me.”

Eloise took a moment to process what she had just said. Verdun? No soldier has been to the front in years. Does… Does she not remember? “Are you sure? He’s probably not there.”

The elder smiled, “Oh good, He must be on his way here. He must want a break from fighting those Germans all day.”

Eloise pretended to smile, trying to maintain it. Oh fuck, she doesn’t remember. Should I tell her? She seems so full of hope. She doesn’t remember the occupation, she might not even be remembering the right war, but… she’s so happy. I don’t know what’s more sad, her losing years and years of memories, or me being jealous of her.

[the-hinky-panda]

The Preacher's Wife: Escape (Part II)

TW: Spousal abuse: physical, metal, emotional, and sexual

Maggie pushes her food around on her plate, making designs in the teriyaki sauce from the grilled salmon. She lines up her asparagus in a tic-tac-toe grid and uses the small red potatoes to fill in the spaces. She glances up at the clock. Eight fifteen. It’s Thursday night, and Hank is probably washing the dishes from dinner with his mom. Consuela is probably sitting in front of the TV, watching whatever sitcom is on, crocheting. 

God, how she wishes she was with them at the moment. 

“Margaret?” 

Her eyes snap up to her husband, Simon Peters. Named for the occupation he has pursued, pastor of a megachurch, the shepherd of souls who love God.. Dressed impeccably in a dress shirt and designer jeans, his hair perfectly groomed in the latest style, seated at the head of the table. The master of his house. “Yes?” 

His cold blue eyes narrow slightly. “Are you alright? You’re very quiet.” 

She hears the veiled threat under his polite, concerned tone. Pay attention. Make me look good. Don’t embarrass me. She forces a smile and straightens her back. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little tired.” She looks over at the young, newlywed couple that are their dinner guests this evening. “Lydia and Asher wanted me to play in the pool with them today. I guess it took more out of me than I thought.” 

The young woman, Heather, takes her husband’s hand. “I can’t wait to have my own children.” 

Maggie glances over at Simon and gives a forced smile herself. “Children can be a blessing. I do wish I had spent more time learning how to be a wife before becoming a mother though.” Instead, she had married at nineteen and had Lydia ten months later. She had been so naive, believing that she was fulfilling her life plan. Growing up, she had been told that fulfillment was found in family: husband and children. And while she loved both Lydia and Asher, she had also come to realize that joy is found in a variety of things. To keep it constrained to a spouse and children was stifling. 

“God’s timing is perfect though. Lydia arrived exactly when she should have.” Simon picks up his wine glass. “And people who have been married for fifty years or more are still learning how to be the best spouses they can.” 

“And what’s the secret?” the husband, Carter, asks. “You and Mrs. Peters make it look so easy.” 

Maggie feels like she’s going to throw up. She wants to tell this young couple to run as far and as fast as they can from this house. It’s all fake. There’s no love here, no warmth. Her chest physically aches from the longing of wanting that home, that love. That hope. 

“Well, the secret is simple,” Simon says. “Draw closer to God, draw closer to each other. That’s it.” 

Maggie takes a healthy sip of her own wine and swallows down a follow up question of her own concerning the leather restraints and gag that are sitting in the bedside drawer right now. The restraints that she said she did not want to use only to find them wrapped around her wrists when she woke up in the middle of the night. Was that drawing closer to each other? She certainly didn’t think so. 

“And speaking of drawing closer to God,” Simon slips into his preacher’s voice, “this brings me to the reason why Carter and Heather are joining us here this evening.” 

That phrase, the reason why, makes Maggie’s hair stand on end. She becomes hypervigilant, taking in everything in the room. The tightening of the couple’s hands, the embarrassed blush staining Heather’s cheeks. The subtle slide of her eyes over to Simon, who gives her a small nod. How does Carter not see that, see that secretive look? Maybe he doesn’t know, doesn’t have enough experience with infidelity to recognize it. But then Carter looks over at Maggie, his eyes intent as they focus on her face, her lips…her breasts. Maggie pushes her chair back, her desire to flee prompting the motion, when Simon clears his throat. 

“Heather, sadly, is unable to conceive a child on her own.” Simon stands and slowly makes his way over to Maggie. “She and Carter came to me last week asking for prayers and guidance on what the next step should be. So I took the weekend and went into the wilderness and asked God for an answer. This is what He told me.” 

Maggie sways in her chair, feeling sick and lightheaded. Simon steadies her by digging his fingers into her shoulders. 

“God told me that the answer lies in the Old Testament story of the trials of Abraham and Sarah. When Sarah couldn’t conceive, she gave her maid to Abraham and Abraham was able to have a son. So, I give my wife to you so that you may achieve this blessed, and wonderful experience of parenthood.”

He gives her to them, like she’s a possession. Something to be borrowed and returned. She knows better from his phrasing and example, that a clinic for in vitro fertilization was not going to be considered. And if that wasn’t enough, then the leering look that Carter is giving her from across the table is enough to solidify her worst fears. Her stomach roils and she twists her way out of Simon’s grip. 

“Excuse me,” she mutters, running towards the bathroom. 

She locks the door because she can hear Simon’s footsteps behind her. She vomits what little dinner she managed to eat and then sits on the bathroom floor, her back against the wall. She wipes the tears from her eyes with shaking hands. 

“Margaret? Are you okay?” 

The fake sincerity drips from his words. Maggie pulls out her phone from her back pocket and opens her text messages. She needs help. She needs to get out. The door knob moves as Simon tries to open the door. She selects Morgan’s name and manages to type okay, it’s time and sends it off. 

“Margaret.” 

Simon’s patience has run out so she pushes herself up the wall. She turns the water on, more to drown out anything they will say to each other, and she unlocks the door. He’s through it immediately, slamming the door behind him. Maggie prays for deliverance. 

“Pull yourself together,” he demands. “This is happening tonight.” 

“Simon-” 

“And every Saturday night until they get what they want.” 

Anger is replacing the shock. “Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just fuck her during one of your ‘counseling’ sessions and leave me out of it?” 

“Do you know who they are? They are Silicon Valley royalty, the both of them. That’s about 4 billion dollars worth of income sitting at our dining room table and all they want is a kid. Do you know what that kind of money could do for us?” 

“Oh, draining them of their money makes a wife swap so much more tolerable.” Maggie crossed her arms. “I’m not doing this.” 

Simon gives her a wicked smile. “Oh, I think you will. Holly Singer.” 

Maggie feels her blood run cold. “What?” 

“Oh yeah, I know about your books, Holly. So this is how it’s going to go. You’re going to go back out there, do whatever that man tells you to do. And if you’re finding it hard to get in the mood, just pretend you’re one of the sluts you love to write about in your filthy little novels.” 

Well, if God isn’t going to deliver her, then she’ll have to deliver herself. She starts looking for anything to fight back against Simon so she can get out of the bathroom, but all the decorations are too flimsy to inflict any damage. But then, from the other side of the door, comes a tiny little voice. 

“Mommy?” 

Asher, her little three-year-old savior. “Yes, baby?” 

“I don’t feel good.” 

Bless him and whatever it is that roused him from his sleep. Simon’s jaw is tensed, his back teeth practically cracking as he grinds them together. He can’t force anything on her now if one of the kids needs her. Maggie steps around him and opens the door. Asher is standing there, his blonde hair sticking up in every direction, as he holds a small hand over his right ear. 

“What’s the matter, honey?” she asks, picking him up. 

“My ear hurts and I can’t sleep.”

Maggie gives a pointed look at Simon. “Please tell Heather and Carter that I’m sorry I won’t be back out there tonight as my son needs me.” 

She knows he’s going to make her pay for that later but she’ll cross that bridge when she comes to it. She puts ear drops in Asher’s ear, gently massaging the side of his little neck to help alleviate the discomfort. She hums “Annie’s Song” twice through and soon, he’s back to sleep in his own bed. She checks her phone before leaving the safety of his room and sees that Morgan has responded already. 

When?

Tomorrow? Is that even possible?

I will make it happen. And I’ll be bringing back-up. I’ll let you know when we’re in the area.

Thank you. She doesn’t need to ask who the back-up is going to be. Morgan had told her she’s put the entire MC on alert so that as many as can come will make the ride up to La Jolla to move her and the kids to safety. Maggie erases the messages from her phone so Simon won’t find them. She already has bags packed for the kids and herself. Clothes, documents, jewelry, cash, all packed up in suitcases and backpacks, stored away in the crawlspace in Asher’s closet. All she needs to do is grab them and the kids and run. She slips the phone back into her pants pocket as she closes Asher’s door quietly behind her. When she turns around, something strikes her across her face, knocking her against the wall.. 

Simon. 

She smooths her hair back from her face and covers her stinging cheek with her hand. He’s standing just a couple feet away from her, a scowl on his classically handsome features. 

“Don’t you ever embarrass me like that again.” He rolls up his shirt sleeves. “They’ll be back tomorrow evening and you will have that child for them.” 

Knowing the calvary is coming tomorrow has made her brave. “And what if she’s not the problem? What if it’s him? Guess you’ll have to be the one to knock her up. What a shame.” 

She moves away from him but he grabs her arm, pushing her back against the wall again. This time, it’s not a slap. Stars erupt behind her eyes when his fist connects with her face and the back of her head hits the wall. His hand rests at the base of her throat, just enough pressure to hold her upright.“Or I just knock you up again. We both know how easy that is.” 

Maggie’s stomach drops at the memories of waking up, drowsy and disoriented, finding Simon on top of her. Too weak to fight him off, too out of it to properly register what was going on. It started happening when she was sleeping in one of the guestrooms, after waking up with her hands restrained in the leather cuffs that one time. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she started waking up with bruises on her wrists and thighs, the sheets and her skin smelling like Simon. She tried to deny it was happening, spending hours scrubbing herself clean in the shower, but then she became pregnant with Asher. She couldn’t deny the abuse at that point. 

That was when she started planning her escape, stashing money, moving assets around, letting Morgan in on what her life was like, albeit a more PG-13 version than the full blown truth. She survived six years in this gilded prison and tomorrow was going to be her day to break free. She knows if she gets too cocky, too confident, then Simon is going to know something is up. So she ducks her head and meekly nods her head. She shows him that she is the epitome of defeat of submission.

“Alright, Simon. Tomorrow night.” She nods in resolution to her fate. “I will follow God’s path for my life.” 

“That’s my sweet, obedient wife,” he presses a kiss against her cheek. “Now, let’s get some sleep so you’re well rested for tomorrow evening.” 

“Okay.” 

She glances at her watch. It’s almost midnight. Just a few more hours until Morgan and the Mayans MC show up to rescue her.  

[excessive-vampires]

Alphabet Thralls, S's Conditioning and Aftermath

Masterlist with content warnings

Taglist: @d-cs @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @softvampirewhump

S was led to a comfortable chair, their wrists strapped down. Then they were left alone. Now that there was no choice left, no option to fight, their anguish and shame over their compliance lessened. They looked around, it was a small room, the walls painted a calming blue like deep water. In front of them was a desk with another chair on the other side. No sooner had they taken in their surroundings than a woman walked in. She was of average build, a little short, and had blonde hair that fell in short loose waves around her head. She wore a simple black sundress with a sunflower design and a lavender cardigan over it. She carried a file containing all the notes on S and set it down on the desk. 

“Are you comfortable?” The woman asked.

S didn’t want to talk, didn’t know what attitude was expected of them, what would be right. So they just nodded. 

“Is there anything you need? We are going to be here for five hours, and we won’t be able to take a break without having to start over.” 

“I’m fine.” The words slipped out of their mouth easily. It was their most practiced lie, but they didn’t think it sounded very convincing right now. 

“They told me you didn’t finish your meal earlier.” 

S looked down and wished they could disappear. They looked up when they felt the woman undoing the restraint on one of their wrists. She then pressed a candy bar into their hand. They tried to decide whether or not to ask if this was a test. 

“Eat,” the woman commanded gently, but still firmly enough that S felt safe listening. They brought the candy bar to their mouth and tore the wrapper open. They glanced up at the woman as they took a bite of the sweet candy. She nodded and smiled. “My name is Mary.”

“Mary,” S repeated quietly after they swallowed their bite of chocolate.

“Do you have any questions, S-23?” Mary asked.

S shook their head as they took another bite of the candy bar. 

“Are you sure? It’s okay to ask anything you want, I won’t get mad.”

“I’m fine,” they whispered, knowing they needed to say something but not being able to force anything more specific from their throat. They almost wished that Mary would just get on with the brainwashing instead of putting them through more of this confusing conversation. Then they felt disgusted at themself for thinking that. 

Mary leaned forward across the desk. “You’re too scared to ask your questions, aren’t you?” Her tone was kind, caring. S wished that she would at least cut the bullshit. They weren’t resisting, why was Mary bothering trying to manipulate them? S was so tired of trying to figure out what everyone wanted from them. They had thought it would be more simple just following orders and not making anything more difficult for themself or anyone else, but they had messed up somewhere, and they didn’t know how. Tears welled up in their eyes as they nodded. 

“You didn’t seem very scared before, were you just pretending to be brave?”

“No,” they muttered miserably. 

“Then what’s changed?”

“I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re not. And that’s okay. Just tell me why you’re scared.” Mary gently took the empty candy bar wrapper from S’s hand and put it next to the folder. She didn’t let go of their hand afterwards. 

“You’re punishing me. This is an appropriate reaction. It should be what you want.” The last sentence was a soft mumble, but still intelligible. 

Mary started gently running her thumb across the skin of S’s wrist. “What makes you think this is a punishment, darling?”

A flare of anger broke through S’s mind. “Don’t lie to me!”

Oh god.

They had yelled. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I won’t–” S felt like their throat was closing with fear and regret.

“Look at me,” Mary commanded in that same gentle, insisting tone.

They looked up and blinked tears away so they could see clearly. 

“I’m not angry with you. I’m not lying. I’m not going to do anything bad to you.”

“I don’t…” S whispered. “I don’t want to forget…”

“We can’t get rid of your memories of the past, dear. Not without leaving you absolutely useless. If we could, it would make this whole process a lot easier.” 

“No, that’s not–” S stopped and took a shuddering breath. “Never mind.”

“Tell me.”

S loved that voice, it told them exactly what to do with no room for doubt, but without being angry. That was probably how it started, the mind control. But they still wished everyone talked like this when they gave orders. “People always make me feel so bad whenever I make a mistake, and for so long I thought I was just bad. And I still feel bad whenever anyone gets upset with me but… I realized a while ago that I don’t deserve to feel like that. That’s what I don’t want to forget… But that probably wouldn’t be very good for a thrall to know.”

Mary looked genuinely sad. “I’m going to tell you why we needed to schedule you for the longest cognitive conditioning session we could, okay?” 

S nodded. 

“It’s because you’ve already been conditioned, sweetheart. By humans. In the only crude, cruel way they can. With violence and fear. We need to get all of that out of your head before we can put our conditioning in.”

S shuddered at the thought of going through a lifetime of abuse for a second time, condensed into five hours. 

“You don’t need to worry,” Marry said with a smile. “We are so much more powerful than humans, and most importantly we know that fear as a motivator is inconsistent at best and just plain ineffective at worst. You won’t follow our orders because you’re afraid of what happens if you don’t. You are going to follow our orders because you want to. Because being good is going to make you feel good.”

S froze like a deer in headlights. Their heart was beating wildly, their eyes were as wide as possible, they had no idea if they were supposed to respond but either way they didn’t feel capable of it. They were feeling such a tumultuous mix of emotions that they couldn’t identify a single individual one. 

“I have no reason to lie.” The claim made sense, but more than that, the meaning seeped down into S’s brain like sweet syrup until they could think of nothing else. They believed it entirely. “You can believe that this is going to be good for you. You should trust the hope you’re feeling. That hope is going to make you feel good. You deserve to feel good, right?”

Some of the tension left S’s shoulders. “Yes,” they said simply. They didn’t doubt, they didn’t fear. They barely suppressed a relieved laugh. They deserved to feel good. If this was what the mind control was like then maybe it was a good thing they were going to be here for so long.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” Mary said conspiratorially. “Don’t be embarrassed, love, you’re doing very well. A lot of people fight against that feeling if it’s not subtle and disguised, but of course we don’t have to do that with you. You want this. You want to listen. You want to feel good.”

“Holy shit,” S breathed softly as once again Mary’s words drove everything else from their mind and all they felt was desire for more. “Yes, please.” 

“Then relax and listen very closely to my instructions.”

S nodded quickly, they sank back into the chair and closed their eyes.

“For this next part I’m going to have to go very deep into your mind and restructure the patterns your brain has learned over the years. Don’t fight me, don’t put up any walls, just let me do what I need to do and it will be very pleasant.”

Worry started to creep back into S’s mind. They didn’t trust easily and while the command to have hope had stuck, there was still the vague fear that something was going to hurt them in some way. 

“I’m just going to take out the things that make you feel bad, and put in new things to make you feel good. Don’t you want that, honey?”

S took a deep breath. They had made what felt like a million mistakes in their life, if this was truly a bad idea, what difference would one last screw up make? “Yes.”

“Then you’re going to let go. Let go and you’ll feel good.”

This command felt different, it shot through their mind like a hot knife through butter and held on tight once it got to the center. And letting it in was so easy. 

“Very good, sweetheart, you didn’t put up any resistance at all.”

Being praised felt like there was a star burning in S’s chest, filling every inch of them with warmth. They wanted to get lost in the feeling, but they needed to listen to Mary tell them what to do. 

“The first thing I need you to let go of is your complex thoughts, dear. Until I tell you otherwise there is just my voice and what I tell you to do. There is no choice, no need to wonder why, no reason to hold onto anything for longer than it takes you to follow the order.”

In an instant S’s mind was blank and it felt so very good. They might as well have been weightless, floating in the empty void between stars, but it was so so warm and Mary’s grip on their hand was soft even as it lit up all their nerves. 

“Next, I need you to let go of your emotional reactions, they’re just going to get in the way of you feeling good while I work.”

S was vaguely aware that Mary was taking every piece of their mind away one by one. It should have been terrifying, but it just felt so good. The only thing left in the universe was the wave of bliss they were riding. 

“You’re doing very well, darling. You’re being so good and that makes you feel good. Now, I need you to answer my questions, and do so truthfully. There is no reason to feel anything about the answers or try to figure out what you should be saying. Just keep feeling good and give me the facts. What scares you the most?”

“When other people are angry.” 

“Why?”

“They might hurt me. They might make me feel bad.” 

“Just listen closely and you’ll never have to be scared about that again. From now on, whenever anyone is acting angry around you, your mind will just start to drift away to somewhere safe. Nothing they say will be able to reach you there, so you can just listen to their words without feeling anything about them, and they’ll only be worth thinking about at all if someone you’re supposed to obey is giving you an order or asking you a question.”

S did not wonder how they would know who to obey, they just accepted the truth in Mary’s words. 

“Now, I know you don’t like answering questions, why is that?”

“I don’t want to get the answer wrong.”

“Well don’t worry, from now on you’ll always be certain that the right answer is the truth when talking to your superiors, unless they directly tell you otherwise. And even if you get confused and get the answer wrong, nothing bad is going to happen to you. We all know you’re trying your best. And even if someone gets angry with you, remember, it won’t hurt you and you can just ask what you need to do differently next time.”

Everything was so simple now. So easy. There was nothing stopping S from following orders, they finally knew exactly what people wanted from them. 

S heard Mary pick up the candy bar wrapper and crinkle it between her fingers. “You lied to me before about not being hungry, why?”

“To stay safe.”

“How?”

“By not being an inconvenience so you wouldn’t have a reason to be upset.”

Mary put down the wrapper and brought her hand back to S’s. She lightly traced circles on their palm. It felt almost electric. “You don’t have to think like that anymore, love. Taking care of your needs is part of being good, if you’re suffering you won’t be able to follow orders as well, and you won’t feel as good. None of us want that. Whenever you need something, and it doesn’t contradict an order or directly hurt one of your superiors, you can just take care of it. Do whatever you need to keep yourself strong, healthy, and content. And if it ends up being a mistake then someone will tell you, and that won’t hurt you, and you’ll know not to do it again.”

S continued to drift as Mary asked more questions. They didn’t forget each command as she moved on to the next one but they didn’t keep thinking about them either. Everything Mary said simply became a known truth to S like it had always been a part of some inherent knowledge they had. 

“Okay, I’m going to ask you again if you have any questions now that you won’t be afraid. You’re going to need to think critically for that, so I’m going to slowly bring back your thoughts. You still won’t feel any emotions about anything you or I say, you’re just going to let me know if there’s anything you want to know. Now just listen and let your mind wander away from that calm peaceful oblivion. You’re still going to feel the pleasure from obeying orders, but it’s not going to distract you from thinking. Imagine yourself waking up from a good night’s sleep. Your mind is soft and warm and your awareness of your surroundings and yourself is coming back to you piece by piece. Now, do you have any questions?”

S felt as though their brain had been rebooted like a troublesome computer. Things had been so very distressing before, but now all the energy and thought and willpower they had been expending on feeling bad for so many years was freed up to be used for better things, so it didn’t take them very long to figure out what questions they should ask. “Are you really vampires?”

“Yes.”

“Are you doing this so I’ll let a vampire drink my blood?”

“Yes, and so you will happily take care of anything they need done during the day.”

“Will the vampire kill me eventually?” 

“Not purposefully. You’ll be fine as long as you’re physically sound but as you age and your health declines it will start to become dangerous for you to be bitten. In all likelihood your death will be the direct result of blood loss.” 

“Will there be any long-term physical effects from being fed on by a vampire?” 

“Slightly lower blood pressure. Nothing medically significant.” 

“Any long-term psychological effects? Aside from what you’re doing now?”

“Nothing not covered by basic classical conditioning.”

“Are you going to use mind control to make it so being bitten isn’t painful?” 

“I don’t think I need to,” Mary grabbed the packet of forms from the folder in front of her and flipped through pages until she found the response she had been looking for. “You said you have a slightly higher than average pain tolerance?” 

“According to tattoo artists.” 

“Yes. You have that cute little constellation inked into your chest, it won’t hurt any more than that.”

“I don’t have any more questions.” 

Mary smiled. “If that’s the case, I’m going to need you to let go again so I can train your brain to react positively to good behavior. Can you do that for me?” 

S knew that they should be resisting this, they were being asked to let their mind be taken away after all, who knew if any of their faculties would be returned after the handler was done with them. But did they really care? Either way things were going to be easy, either way they would feel good. Maybe that was the mind control talking, or maybe they had already been tired enough to actually want this. They nodded and let Mary’s voice ease their thoughts away. 

…… 

When Mary had finally gotten everything to stick in the new patterns of S’s mind she slowly talked them back to their full mental capabilities. As S opened their eyes they felt like a weight had been lifted off of their shoulders. It felt easy just to exist in a way S had never felt before. They thought this was probably peace. 

“How are you feeling, my dear?” Mary asked, smiling. 

S smiled back. “I feel very good, thank you.” 

“That’s excellent, honey, now I’m going to take you back to the showers so you can get ready for the vampire you’ve been assigned to”

S was allowed to wash themself this time as long as they were very thorough. They were then given a pair of simple black clothes resembling what someone in a prison might be given. The studs for their lip piercings were also returned. 

They were then led to a small waiting room. The vampire who had assigned the different conditioning sessions was there waiting. “How did it go?” he asked.

“Excellent!” Mary said as she placed a proud hand on S’s shoulder. “Even during their initial fear they were very docile and put up no resistance at all.”

The man smirked. “You must have quite the silver tongue, Mary. It’s so much more effective when we can manipulate rather than use brute force.” 

“I didn’t even have to lie to them, really. Their will for freedom had been broken long ago and they were just happy to be in the hands of a kinder master, isn’t that right?”

“Oh yes,” S said eagerly. “I feel so much better now.” 

Mary chuckled. “You should give the targeting team a raise for finding them.”

“Oh, they weren’t even the intended target. When the acquisitions team showed up they fought just long enough to let their brother get away then begged us to take them instead as soon as he was out of earshot.” 

“How noble,” Mary sounded surprised. “I did sense a good strong protective instinct in their mind, I suppose. But it was deep down. Poor thing was just too tired to fight for anyone anymore. Even themself.” 

“Well then,” the man turned to S and gestured towards the couch behind him. “Why don’t you get some rest until Hector arrives.” The two vampires walked out of the room as S settled onto the couch. They heard the lock click as the door closed. Usually they would relish being alone, since it meant not having to try to make everybody else in the room happy, but they now found themself eagerly anticipating meeting their vampiric owner. They couldn’t wait to see Hector and figure out who he was, what he wanted, and how to best please him. They absolutely craved the feeling of pleasure that would blossom in them as they behaved well for him. They imagined him praising them and practically shuddered at the idea of how good it would feel.

S didn’t have to wait long before a man with tan skin, wavy black hair, and the bright red eyes they had come to associate with authority walked into the room followed by the clipboard woman. S scrambled to their feet. They nodded their head deferentially and said, “Hello.” 

Hector laughed. “Oh, so eager!”

S blushed, but it was less from embarrassment and more from the fact that that had been close enough to praise to make them feel warm inside.

Hector looked S over. “Do you have to give them all such boring haircuts?” He ran his hands through their hair, trying to at least leave it fashionably tousled.

“You can do what you want with their hair when you sign for them.”

Hector ignored this and ran his thumb over one of the studs below S’s mouth. “At least I can tell this one knew the value of a distinctive aesthetic.”

S wasn’t sure if they should speak up, that hadn’t really been directed at them, but they wanted to make Hector happy… “That’s right. I’ve always liked looking unique.” 

Hector looked a little surprised. “And why is that?”

“I want seeing me to make people happy. Or at least make their day interesting.”

“Oh you’ll be perfect for dressing up and carrying my bag at parties, won’t you?” Hector said with a grin.

“Yes, I’d like that a lot,” S said with their own smile. “Um… how would you like me to refer to you?”

“Oh, just Hector is fine. Anything else draws too much attention in public.”

“Yes, Hector.”

Hector turned back to the woman. “You seem to have found me quite the fun thrall here. Completely obedient but without the usual pathetic spineless lack of any interesting trait you get from that level of programming.”

S felt like they’d won an award.

“S-23 responds very well to clear, detailed instructions. Praise and validation reinforces their cognitive training, and if it starts slipping you’ll notice them becoming unusually distressed by decisions and even small mistakes. They might even tell you they need a refresher session themself.” 

“You are a rare catch, aren’t you, dear?” Hector said. 

“Thank you.” S said with a beaming smile.

Hector turned to the clipboard woman. “You’ve done lovely work, just as I expected. Now I think I’d like to sample the merchandise.” 

“Of course.” The woman left the room. Hector motioned for S to sit back down on the couch and they did. Hector sat beside them. 

“Are you scared?” Hector asked as he leaned in close. 

“No.” S answered truthfully. 

“That’s good, you don’t need to be. I’m going to make this feel very nice for you.” Hector put a hand on the side of S’s face.

“Thank you,” S replied. Hector moved his hand away and S made an educated guess that he wanted them to continue to lean into it, exposing more of their neck. When they did so, Hector smiled wide.

He leaned in close to their ear and whispered. “Good thrall.” 

S released a shuddering exhale as a feeling of rightness settled into their chest. They felt warm and weightless and content and completely convinced that this was what they were supposed to do. 

“Stay very still now,” Hector ordered in that same firm but kind tone that Mary had used. S obeyed.

Hector pressed his fangs to S’s throat. There was a sharp stab of pain that made S take in a gasping breath, but within seconds it had faded into a dull ache. Then a feeling of soft, pleasant calm filled them up. Every one of their muscles relaxed except for the ones keeping them very still, and waves of pleasure washed over and through them. They had never felt so amazing and comfortable. 

After a few minutes Hector licked the wound until it stopped bleeding then pulled back, whispering praises that made S feel like they were floating. “You can move now,” Hector said as he licked blood from his teeth. S fell back against the armrest of the couch with a joyful sigh and Hector chuckled. “What name would you like to be called, sweet one?” 

It took a second for S to gather their thoughts enough to remember. “Val. If that’s okay.”

“A lovely name. I think, little valentine, you and I are going to be an excellent match. It will be so good to have your company on my travels.”

“You travel?”

“Oh yes. I simply cannot resist the urge for a good vacation now and then.” 

“And I get to come with you?” 

“Of course, I can’t enjoy myself if I’m starving. Plus, revelry and relaxation both keep the blood rich and sweet. Now, follow me so I can sign the paperwork and take you home. I can’t wait to show you off at Delilah’s party next week, I know just what to make you wear.” 

They nodded eagerly and stood up from the couch, swaying on their feet for a moment before Hector put a steadying hand on their shoulder. Tears welled up behind their eyes. After so many years of pain, they were finally happy.

[mykaeba]

@w3ndytheraccoon hi omg lemme ramble. so first of all yessss his hair is like techno’s, i really really think it goes well with how the later it went in the dsmp, the longer his hair was in general headcannons! plus i just really wanted that for him. he doesn’t have to keep it short bc he has time to take care of it now, yknow? same idea for lots of his clothes, you can see some patterns on the short skirt (tunic?) he wears as well as the pockets of the pants and his glove,, it’s because he has The Time for it!!

the tunic is also a ref to chommy’s pretty fluid gender in the fandom, and even tho i never drew her, i quite love the idea too. so the long hair and the skirt are there to make the character more androgynous :]]

the glove is a ref to tommy’s time at techno’s place. he arrived there not caring about the cold and kinda wanting to die, but techno taught him to heed the cold and he does now! he always has gloves on him (bc you can’t hold a sword with frozen fingers, tommy, what the heck man.)

the sword!! it’s a really simple one, bc tommy always crafts tools with whatever he has at hand, but!! it has a sheath! and the stitching is ugly, because it was his first one, and he doesn’t care. it’s a sheath! he doesn’t need to have his sword out at all times anymore, he doesn’t need to be vigilant! he can sheathe his sword now

his prosthesis (which i put on the wrong foot if you look at literally all the other arts i made where he has one, oops) was made by techno and is a bit clunky but it never failed him, so he never replaced it. tubbo and tommy spent an afternoon engraving and painting some flowers in the wood before they finally put varnish on it to protect it. the foot part had to be replaced a few times as he finished growing, so it’s not techno’s (techno’s had a steel sole so tommy could kick people). this one is wood only and looks like a naked foot bc tommy goes barefoot in the fields with his sheep. and since it’s magic, he can put a shoe on it too without it altering the height of the prosthetic. he hadn’t planned to meet jack and go to the tundra, so he didn’t bring the other shoe (tubbo’s gonna be so mad about that later).. he slipped a few times in the snow too.. ((his shoe is a design i made and never posted…))

he also has an earring which can be whatever you want (in my head, it’s the piece of bedrock, tho)

he still has the red and white shirt!! you can see the sleeve :]] he added a front pocket to it bc comfyness

as for his overall posture, he’ll never stand straight (ha) imo, but if you look at that one drawing i made of techno waiting for phil on the battlefield, you’ll see it’s very similar… we never really notice the habits we borrow from people closest to us i think

ANND THATS ALL ty for asking!!!!

yeah ctommy, same man

[avizare]

Mort Minou - A Vamp Noir AU

Chapter 1 - Chat's Peril

 A pure soul.

 That, of all things, was what his Countess had desired when she sent him out on this insipid little errand. Not a big deal; a simple task, really.

 ‘Oh it’s quite simple, Jonas.’ He thought on her words as he rubbed at his eyes. ‘A pure soul, Jonas. Oh, but make it a strong one, too. Someone with a natural strength. Someone worthy of the gift. Someone who can enforce my will. Oh and I want them young, Jonas. And pretty, of course. I want you to fly up to heaven and pluck out an angle for me to play with…’ 

 He sighed, scratching his stubble. That last one might have been more what he heard than what she actually said.

 Good and strong don’t exactly come hand in hand all that often, nowadays. Not in this modern world, where all the kiddies are attached to their little light bricks.

 Thankfully, however, it seemed that the devil did him a good deed. If he’d been offered this task a decade ago, he’d have been completely stumped as to where to start. But as it happened…

 Jonas sat in the shadows, watching with interest from up high on a rooftop as one of Paris’ superheroes — the turtle-themed one — grappled the akuma from behind. A yoyo cracked against its skull, stunning it momentarily, as another hero — the cat — rushed their foe to pull at its costume, searching for the magic item that seemed to power these creatures.

 He managed to rip something from the brightly coloured villain-of-the-night, and he chucked it towards the polka-dotted one, who was quick to break it open in midair with her yoyo. And before long, it was all over; the evil Hawkmoth’s destruction was undone in a wave of magic ladybugs, and the city was set right once more.

 Jonas had no doubt of who’d win, of course. Ladybug’s strength and valour were legendary, as was her tendency to come out on top. She’d be a fantastic candidate, but…

 No longer than the city had been repaired and Ladybug gave Rena Rouge and Carapace some parting words — sparing none for Chat Noir, he noticed — had the team parted ways, splitting off into different directions.

 … she was a little bit too incorruptible for his liking. And Ladybug was a beacon of hope for all of Paris; he didn’t want to think of what could happen if he deprived the city of its defender. Even his kind relied on Ladybug’s protection against Hawkmoth, in a way.

 And besides, she lacked a certain… je ne sais quoi that the Countess no-doubt desired, even if she hadn’t worded it, exactly. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the pretty baker’s daughter by day and superhero by night, would no doubt be considered a sufficient choice. She was even a novice fashion designer, and a well-regarded one for her youth, at that. It would be a delectable talking point amongst the court.

 But the Countess wanted a bit more flavour than that. Above all, he knew — for he knew her very well — that she liked her playthings to be more… layered. She wants a force to be reckoned with in her service, of course, but if they also happened to be a pathetic, writhing thing in the palm of her hand, to be moulded and shaped as she desired? Oh, that would be perfect.

 And a pretty young blond desperate for affections that are always just out of his reach? A model by day, used to being ogled and preened and pulled around to wherever he’s wanted? And a black-clad superhero by night, who time and time again has learnt the limits of his own mortality? A broken little thing that is almost too ready to give up his life for the sake of the one he owes his loyalty to?

 It's like he was made for this.

 Jonas slipped from the shadows, his form dissipating into a gust of black smoke that bounced from rooftop to rooftop.

 Oh, Adrien was perfect. Accustomed to the trappings of high society, no stranger to discretion or hiding his nature, and oh how he missed his mother; all things that could be used by the Countess. 

 The time was now. If Adrien Agreste were to disappear into his new ‘life’, not a soul would bat an eye; especially after headlines of the boy leaving the company — and his father — behind the moment he came of age began to circulate.

 Once again, the patience that came with his condition had been the greatest boon of all his gifts. He’d taken the time to learn and plan and study his prey. All it took was gathering some of his fellows and staging a robbery at the Agreste Manor for him to collect the final piece of the puzzle: a trinket that seemed to control the boy, or at least, influence him in some way, should his will be stronger than he’d predicted.

 Useful or not, taking it from the father facilitated getting the boy out of that house and away from prying eyes, and that was about all the help he’d needed.

 Another reason why the Agreste boy was perfect: he was cunning. Jonas could concede that they were all smart kids — indeed, the boy seemed to excel in every study he undertook, and he was made to undertake many — but Adrien had grown up in a world where to get what he wanted, even simple things like time with his friends or carbs, he had to go behind the eagle-eye of his father and his assistants.

 The boy almost always managed to slip away when it suited him. He was almost too willing to lie, charm, or otherwise deceive to get his way. Case in point: he’d been able to sequester away his funds — years upon years of allowances (or wages, depending on how you thought about it) — into a private account outside of his father’s reach, and had bought himself an apartment the moment he came of age to do so.

 He didn’t even bother to properly move out. On the morning of his eighteenth, before he’d even been wished a happy birthday, he strolled out of the manor with a suitcase — a single suitcase — and took a taxi he’d pre-arranged out into the suburbs, only to turn into Chat Noir and bound his way back towards the city — and his new apartment — with time to spare before going out to meet his friends (and some family) for lunch.

 Even Jonas didn’t know about this and he’d spent the past three months studying the boy from the shadows. It had taken no small amount of detective work to figure out what he’d done, let alone how he’d done it.

 Now, the boy was sitting pretty with a dozen or so modelling agencies and fashion brands reaching out to try and employ him, and yet, he seemed to be more focussed on besmirching his fathers name. Jonas was not usually one to get excited over drama, but oh, the interviews following Adrien’s birthday have been scandalous!

 He couldn’t be sure if the intent was to make Gabriel’s stock value plummet fast enough to win the company a world record, but if it was, Adrien was doing a fantastic job.

 The boy was even making moves to have his surname changed; making a big show of filling out documents at his birthday lunch with an overenthusiastic Aunt at his side. He even did it ‘on stream’, though Jonas wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. What he was sure of was that Adrien soon-to-be-Graham-de-Vanily was, without a doubt, in the prime of his life.

 It was almost a shame to take it from him now. 

 But the Countess was waiting for him with baited breath, relatively-speaking, and with his life stabilised, the time was now. Jonas rematerialised on a building overlooking the boy’s apartment, and watched as Chat Noir sprang into his field of view before quickly disappearing into the shadow of an alleyway. 

 After half a minute or so, he watched Adrien Agreste pull open the curtains of his living room, which faced out towards the beautiful Paris skyline with large windows that ran the length of the wall and almost the height, short by a foot from the floor and ceiling. He was wearing simple black dress pants and shoes with a cuffed white dress shirt, his jacket, belt and tie discarded the moment he’d gotten home.

 It would make a lovely view to die to: that of beautiful Paris. But the kill was not his to make, as satisfying as it would be after all the time he’d dedicated to learning about the boy and his band of heroes. The kid had briefly left his sight and Jonas watched with mild interest, needing only wait a couple moments before Adrien came back into his view with a glass of wine in one hand and a bottle in the other: Promontory, twenty-ten vintage.

 ‘Ah, good.’ Jonas smiled. ‘Nothing better than when the feast spices itself. Even chose something decent.’

 He watched the young man put the bottle down on a small glass coffee table that had been placed before a group of brand new, modern black leather furnishings. There was a chaise lounge that faced the large window-wall and a couple armchairs either side, around the table. He sat down on the chaise and pulled the coffee table up against it, before reclining on the lounge and taking a sip of his wine.

 He seemed strangely… melancholy. Jonas thought that the boy would have been satisfied with all this; with having more than most people could dream of. But then, at the end of the day, his night was capping off as it always seemed too, the last couple of weeks: with him sitting alone with his thoughts.

 It was as he thought this that the boy’s little kwami came into view with half a wheel of camembert in its hands, and the two briefly exchanged words before the little cat plopped down on the chair by the boy’s head to enjoy his cheese.

 So, the kid was almost alone. As usual.

 The boy reached for his collar and loosened it by a few buttons, exposing his collarbone to Jonas’ view, where the man’s eyes lingered, for a moment.

 “Yes… the Countess will be most satisfied.”

 In truth, it wasn’t the boy’s resistance he was concerned with as much as it was the kwami’s. Jonas thumbed the combined Graham de Vanily rings on his finger. The boy would be easy; sad as it was, even to him, he had no will of his own strong enough to resist this trinket.

 An ‘amok’, it was called. The Countess had had them studied extensively; its magics, like those of the miraculous, were foreign to them, but she was certain that they’d figured out a way to manipulate it for the ritual.

 “You aren’t ready to relax, just yet,” he told the rings. “You want to go out for a little jog about the Parisian skyline.”

 Adrien tapped the rim of his glass, before sipping it thoughtfully.

 “You know what, Plagg?” Adrien looked over at his black cat companion. “I know that I said I was ready to turn in for the night, but…” He sipped at his glass once more, before upending its contents down his throat and setting it down on the table.

 “Woah, kid, slow down with that.” Adrien stood and collected his kwami from where he sat, holding him in his palm. “What’s up with you? I thought we were done for the night.”

 “We were, but… I have a lot to think about. I can’t go to sleep like this! I just need to go for a little run or something. Clear my head. Get some fresh air.”

 “But we were fighting that akuma for over an hour!”

 “Just for a few minutes. Maybe… maybe ten. I want to visit the Square de l'Abbé-Migne… for some reason. Maybe go to Cafe la Femme en Rouge.”

 “Cafe la Femme—” Plagg blinked, mystified. “What? You going to crawl into the catacombs as well? Or do you just want to cause a stir, stumbling into a cafe at eight o’clock at night? As who? Adrien Agreste or Chat Noir?”

 “I don’t… I don’t know…” 

 He knew this was strange behavior, even for him. He could sometimes be spontaneous but… not like this. He was fun-spontaneous, not stupid-spontaneous. Not outside the heat of battle, anyway.

 “Kid, what’s wrong?” Plagg floated up to him, concern scrawled all over his features. “Talk to me.”

 “I, uh…” Adrien sat back down. He wanted to go. He really, really wanted to go. The thought alone was drawing him there like a moth to a flame, but it was such an unnatural inclination to him that he couldn’t help but fear the fire.

 Jonas gritted his teeth and repeated the command, this time harsher and stricter, and the boy’s fear melted away. Everything did.

 …

 “And what can I get you, handsome?”

 Adrien blinked. 

 His head was spinning. 

 His eyes were cast down on his hands, which were resting intertwined on a… countertop?

 He looked up at the girl behind the bar; a pretty redhead with light grey eyes and a pale complexion that was speckled with freckles. She wore standard black hospitality-wear adorned with a frilly, red apron.

 Adrien didn’t need to guess where he was.

 “Uh… wa-water, please.” He croaked. “For a start.” Lord knows he needs a drink after this.

 “Coming right up,” she smiled pleasantly as she pulled out a fresh glass from beneath the counter and filled it. As soon as the glass met his hand, he swivelled around on his stool to look about the room, utterly mystified by his sudden displacement.

 ‘Cafe la Femme en Rouge’ certainly earned its name. The place was adorned with crimson upholstery wherever it would fit and was equipped with a number of amenities, including a small stage and dance floor, complete with a disco ball that was reeled up to the ceiling, almost out of sight. It also had a comfy-looking book nook with a collection of wheeled-bookshelves and some couches. Even a bean bag. From the look of it, he assumed that they were taken away on the more… exuberant nights.

 But this was obviously not one of those. The only other patron here aside from himself was a gentleman who sat on the bar a few stools down. On a lovely night like this, Adrien could barely believe that the place was so empty, and he looked to the door to find that the sign had been flipped. Ornate, crimson blinds were pulled over the windows.

 Clearly, something or someone had brought him here for a meeting of some sort, and that someone wasn’t Hawkmoth. After all, if the point was to simply lure him here and take his miraculous, why wouldn’t he have done it while he was under whatever spell had been cast on him?

 Adrien couldn’t be completely sure, but he swore that he could feel the man down the bar watching him. Even if his eyes were cast on the newspaper in his hands, Adrien could feel the gravity of his attention on his person. This was too strange. Was it him that brought him here, or the girl? Or someone else, yet to reveal themselves?

 He was a middle-aged, dark-skinned man with long, black hair that was braided into a bun at the back of his head, and shaved down at the sides, fading into his stubble. He wore a moss-coloured, plaid three-piece suit with a black dress shirt, a wine-coloured tie and fine leather dress shoes of the same deep red. He had a glass of what appeared to be red wine before him.

 “Consider taking a photo, kid,” the man grunted. Adrien thought he detected a hint of an accent — possibly Jamaican — but if it was there, it was suppressed by many years of speaking French within the posher circles. “It will last longer.” The boy made a show of leaning on the countertop.

 “I could say the same to you. Or am I not supposed to know that you’re watching me?” The man sighed and took a long sip of his drink, before abandoning it on the counter to move up and sit next to the boy. “A little bit creepy, for a man of your age, but if you have a pen, I’m willing to autograph a napkin or something if you’ll explain just how in the hell you got me here.”

 “Oh…” the girl behind the bar muttered, leaning in, apparently intent on joining their conversation. “So it is you. Adrien Agreste.” She looked over at the man. “Are you sure about this? He’s famous, J. I mean, in Paris especially, he’s like, Kardashian-famous.”

 “I was debating on whether or not you were in on this, too,” Adrien mused, trying his best to maintain an image of cool despite the ice running down his spine. “But I guess I have my answer.”

 “Oh you don’t know the half of it,” the man replied to his compatriot. “Little twerp’s Chat Noir.” Adrien’s eyes went wide and he spun on his seat to look at the man, but before he could deny the accusation, ‘J’ reached for him with inhuman speed and grabbed his hair, smashing the side of his head against the counter with enough force to make him see stars.

 Adrien was about to slip from his stool when his assailant took him by the shoulder and held him up against the counter.

 “Hm…” The girl was completely unfazed by the assault. “... and you see no problem with forcing a superhero to join our ranks? You don’t see how that could end really, really fucking badly for everyone involved?”

 “Actually, he’s more impressionable than most. I don’t even have to compel him.” He cleared his throat and pulled the amok from his pocket, holding it in his hand. “Look: Adrien, tell me the truth. Are you Chat Noir?”

 “Ugh…”

 “Tell me now.”

 “I… I have no way… of proving that I’m… not Chat Noir.”

 “Mmhm.” The man raised Adrien’s hand and plucked the miraculous off his finger. “At any rate, the Countess has her heart set on him. She’s already started calling him her ‘little kitten’.”

 “Oh, no…” Adrien muttered as he put his hands on the counter, struggling to sit up straight. “That’s gross.” He reached for his glass and wrapped a hand around it, taking a sip of the water. “Can I have my ring back, now? It was a gift, you know…”

 The man huffed out a laugh, patting the groggy boy on the back as he set the ring down between them, as if daring him to take it. Adrien looked up at him, then down at the ring, and then down at his glass, apparently thinking better of it as he took another sip. Adrien shook his head in an attempt to bring himself back into focus.

 Then, without warning, he shoved the glass down the counter with as much force as he could, knocking the ring far down the bar and into the little hands of his waiting kwami, who flew high into the air with it, almost against the ceiling. The man turned towards the little cat and as soon as he’d left the man’s sight, Adrien moved, yanking the stool out from under his assailant and twisting from his seat, catching the miraculous mid turn and sliding it onto his finger.

 “Claws ou—”

 The word caught in his throat as a hand wrapped around it.

 “That’s enough, sweetheart,” the girl growled as she twisted and shoved him hard against the bar. Adrien’s eyes bulged as they stared into hers. Gone were the greys that had greeted him when he’d woken up here, replaced with these terrible, glowing, crimson things, with thin, black, slitted pupils, like that of a viper.

 They were awful. Evil. And yet, they were so beautiful that he couldn’t draw his eyes away.

 “There we go, lovely. Nice and calm.” She released him and brushed off his shoulder while he just stood there, stupefied; utterly mesmerised under her enchantment. “Was that really so hard, Jonas?” She looked down at her friend, who was still sitting on his butt against the bar. “Get off the ground. You look like an arse.”

 “Yeah, yeah…”

 “Sweetie,” she turned to the blond, who smiled at her. “Can you make your little cat-bug behave? Make sure he can’t do anything to interfere?”

 “No!” Plagg interjected, zooming towards them. Adrien put his fore and middle fingers over the face of his miraculous.

 “Plagg…” Adrien murmured, as if in a dream. “You must return to the miraculous, now. Don’t come out until I tell you.”

 The little cat began to yell something, but there was nothing he could do as he was suddenly pulled into the ring, as if his holder were about to transform.

 “Let’s go for a walk around the bar, shall we? And no funny business, Chat.” She snapped her fingers before his eyes, and he blinked drearily. “We have places to be, kitten. Blood rituals to commence. Oh, the things our Countess has in store for you…” 

 She put her hands on his chest and leaned into his space, whispering into his ear. 

 “... You’re going to be so great; I can already tell. Don’t worry, once you become numb to the horrors, I guarantee you’ll be thanking us — all of us — for this.”

Author's note: Consider reblogging if you enjoyed! It takes almost no effort and goes a long way to supporting writers like myself on this platform.

If you want a more in-depth author's note, my end notes on AO3 usually contain a lot of closing thoughts and insights into my goals for the fic, what inspired the fic and, on occasion, what's going on with me at the time.

[dellarosula]

╰ ✧ ˖  @aesthetecomplex asked:

[MAKE-A-MELUSINE] - A hot new product has hit the market and it's selling out quick! Customizable Melusine plushies for yourself or for a friend, and you can even dress them up! (for an extra charge, of course.) now hear me out,

"miss navia? i shouldn't be surprised to see you here," he says, a warm smile tugging at his lips. fitting that they'd cross paths again like this. the last time they'd met had been during the lantern rite—moths drawn to a flame, both of them, forever chasing progress and tradition alike. kaveh studies her for a moment. "i’m glad to see you're doing well," he continues, his voice softening. "you seem like you're in your element." he then pulls out a chair to sit beside her, and once settled in, his hands quickly work over the plushies laid out before them. he turns one over thoughtfully in his hands, brow furrowing as he examines the details. "i’ll be honest, my expertise doesn't lie in making these." a small laugh escapes, followed by a shake of his head as he holds a miniature melusine up. "though i’ll manage fine enough. but, in the spirit of customization, i was thinking…" kaveh's gaze drifts to the umbrella resting by her side. "…i could help you make a matching accessory, if that’s what you want—a functional one," he adds, a spark of excitement flickering in his eyes. "it wouldn’t be that hard to do… i’d only need a few things—which, lucky for you, i’ve already got on hand." with a flick of his wrist, he beckons mehrak forward. "an umbrella frame is simple to make," he continues, "as is a spring-and-firing mechanism. it’ll be a matter of suiting both function and flair, and whatever preferences you’d like to incorporate into the final design, if you’re interested in the idea. what do you think?"

The familiar voice turns her head in an instant, smile already bright at her lips in turn. "Hey there, long time no see!"

Her gaze follows him as he moves to sit, hands stilling where they had been occupied with sewing the back of one particular plush closed.

"Hmm? You mean-" Eyebrows raised, she follows his attention to her gunbrella. Amusement and excitement both flicker across her features in quick succession, melting together in an enthusiastic nod. "Functional? You have my attention!"

Melusine plush forgotten for a moment in favor of Kaveh's little friend, a fascinating thing she has yet to quite understand the odds and ends of ( but is, undoubtedly, quite adorable ). She's nodding along as he explains, hanging on every word as though it is the most interesting thing she has ever heard. It may well be.

"You can do all that for something so small?" It's largely simple mechanics, sure, but the smaller a thing the more delicate it is. She can hardly imagine working on such a scale.

"When I designed this ol' thing," a pat to the weapon's handle, affectionate, "I'd only ever taken apart a gun, not built one." Amused, she shifts her weight in her seat. "It was a learning experience, and it took so many prototypes. I can't imagine doing it on such a small scale! One slip of your finger..." Navia shakes her head.

"I think mini-me deserves a weapon of her very own, if you are so up to the task! Oh, you have to show me how you do such a thing!"