#and all the people involved in putting this on knew it would be that way

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Prof. Blake Belladonna Concept

As a apology for this taking so long it's a bit longer and has WAY more pictures then the others

Blake Belladonna had several regrets in life, one of which was not standing with her Cousin Husband Ghira while he protested. To be frank Blake would rather aim for equality in a different way… She would becomes a Huntress, and become strong enough to make changes… She didn’t fully agree with her friend Sienna, however she did always find herself leaning towards her ideals…

Which led Blake to Vale, the only civilized kingdom who didn’t systematically oppress the Faunus… And she was partnered with Glynda Goodwitch, the top preforming combatant in their generation… Blake trained and found herself becoming quite capable.

Rough patches were… Inevitable, like when her Cousin stepped down and Sienna took control of the White Fang… Blake may have said some… Shameful things to her cousin and his wife in hindsight…

However her much more poor decision had been throwing support Sienna’s way… If she had been younger, dumber she might’ve continued to support them, to ‘Fight’ for the cause… But older Blake understood the White Fang for what they were becoming, Terrorist…

So she left them entirely, choosing to join Glynda as a teacher at Beacon, and subordinate to Ozpin… Not unlike Qrow.

And so Professor Blake Belladonna, continued to teach Stealth and Security, and even helped Oobleck during history classes involving the Faunus and at times Glynda as well in combat class… She made it a point to walk proudly, her and Glynda had won both their Vytal Tournaments showing human and Faunus could work together.

Ozpin however had made  annoying habit of using her `oddly drawing charm to draw plenty of students into Beacon… Frankly it wasn’t the fan clubs that bothered her… It was the stalkers… The obsessed and the downright zealots she had.

But Blake was quick on her feat and found plenty enough companionship in her books… She’d tried dating, one could only date so many people before realizing she was the one unintentionally turning them into yanderes…

It had been just like any other day when she met him, she’d just left Tuskon’s and hadn’t noticed the storm clouds soon enough… A cliché, a umbrella suddenly placed over her and a awkward blonde boy greeting her…

She had initially sighed, it wasn’t uncommon for men to hit on her… Frankly it was stranger when they didn’t… which was exactly what the boy did? Not once did he try and flirt, merely asking for directions being new to Vale? Asking about… Junior’s?

Not necessarily a red flag, after all though their were plenty of illegal businesses the Xiong where involved with not all of them were such and even then several of his more questionable business practices were more morally grey then Criminal

She pointed the location out to him and he thanked her, not leaving immediately but walking her all the way to the Bullhead. His left shoulder was soaked… Then he said it, the sentence that made her freeze in place.

Jaune: Glad I could help, would’ve been a real shame if your book got ruined, after all Aunt Koral puts a lot of work into writing those.

Koral?... As in Koral Arc!

Blake was a fan of literature, she adored it, all genres and not just smut despite Qrow’s Insinuations! However she would admit to… ‘Appreciating’ the more… ���Mature’ readings her favorite being Ninja’s of Love, but certainly not the only one, Taboo Knights had quickly garnered her affection, dealing with taboos, betrayal and knights succumbing to rather… unchivalrous desires for their Faunus captives the novel Written by Koral Arc…

She would’ve chased down the boy if not for the fact that she had a signed copy of her newest book but also the fact that she knew exactly where he was going…

Speaking to Junior the following day had been easy, paying him for any information he had was easier… No she was not looking for Info on the White Fang’s Activity… today. Tracking Jaune down was easy enough.

Trying to convince him not to attend Beacon, to risk his life, to not risk her favorite author lagging behind in her writing over worrying about a nephew on the other hand was not easy…

Was This What She Sounded Like When She Use To Attend White Fang Rallies Back When Glynda Would Try And Stop Her?

The boy was adamant, refusing to not at least try… Even when she revealed his fake transcripts he merely said he’s try to enter another Hunter Academy, after all Vacuo didn’t even need Transcripts, just for you to sign a wavier…

Damn Him! She heard stories of how Stubborn the Arc House was but this took the cake! And as it turned out he didn’t even have AURA!!! What Was His Father Thinking!

Blake Belladonna had a choice, did she call Jaune Arc’s bluff and have him effectively black listed from Beacon… Or did she try and help him… If he had just been her favorite author’s nephew she might have picked the former… But the Arcs were the sole house of humanity to fully ally themselves with the Faunus during the Faunus Rights Revolution.

As a proud Faunus Blake Belladonna could not turn her back on the grandson of the Golden Lion of Domrémy. Glynda had admittedly been mad to suddenly have a blonde boy rooming with them… And had asked her a lot of questions…

However in her own words ‘At least this is slightly better than you investigating random Faunus to find the White Fang’. Blake had no idea what Glynda was talking about, those Faunus were by no means random, she knew the signs to look for.

Jaune would be staying with them and the longer he did the more dependent she found herself being on the blonde… Jaune may have been lacking in several ways for a Huntsman, but not even Glynda could complain after their first week with him…

Cleaning, laundry, cooking, and even helping them sort through the bills and the like… In his own words, when you lived with seven sisters you picked up a few things and were outright forced to learn others…

Frankly Jaune being related to her favorite author was now not in fact her top reason for mentoring him… Jaune had potential, a lot of potential… His aura reserves were colossal, and even if he’d never practiced swordsmanship his body was incredibly strong for a civilian… And apparently dancing did in fact translate into more then enough skill with footwork.

And three when she brought up Faunus rights Jaune would listen, and not only that but actually ask questions, some she was uncomfortable answering, some that made her feel ashamed but always with the determination to better his understanding…

Not to mention unlike every student she’d ever taken even a mid interest in before Jaune did not come to be obsessed or utterly infatuated with her… Several occasions he had even stumbled upon her in the shower and had proceeded to apologize and fluster but not proceed to perv on her. That alone showed his mental fortitude… And no, no matter what Glynda said the last several times were accidents, she simply forgot to lock the bathroom door.

She was sure of it, Jaune might enter Beacon as a weak student, but he would grow and become a excellent example of a huntsman. This year would be one she looked forward to…

-0-0-0-

There was no justice in Remnant…

She had been wrong about Jaune… Or at least one aspect about him… Jaune Arc had THE WORST taste in women! WEISS SCHNEE!!! HE WAS ACTUALLY ATTRACTED TO WEISS FREAKING SCHNEE!!!

What Was Wrong With Him!

One Look And He Was Acting Like A Love Struck Dope!

HOW!? HE’D SPENT WEEKS WITH HER AND GLYNDA!!!

In What World Does A Virile Teenage Boy Fall For A Skinny, Twig Of A Flat-Chested Arrogant Little Prickly Princess Wannabe When He’d Been Surrounded By Two Frankly Sexy Teachers!?

Glynda She Could Understand! Her partner was as intimidating as she was beautiful but her too!? How Did This Make Sense!? If Jaune could fall for a girl that hard why hadn’t he become infatuated with her!?

Was a screw loose in his head!? Her teeth gritted as she watched him attempt to charm Atlas’s most raciest lineage! Pyrrha Nikos was right there! How Did He Pick The Schnee Among The Countless Beauties!? For The Love Of God That Xiao-Long Girl Acted Like The Sorta Girl Who Put Out On The First Date! And Summer’s Other Daughter Was The Cliché Friends-to-Lovers With How They First Met!

So why was Jaune aiming for a Schnee! She knew him well enough to know he had no idea who the Schnee even were! She glared as she watched Initiation, HA! Of Course that Schnee would run and abandon him the first chance she got, hopefully now he would see reason and- DID HE JUST CATCH HER!!!

He Was seriously trying to put the moves on her still!

It happened then… She watched as Jaune Arc was made leader of his team… JNPR, she nodded, at least he wasn’t on the same team as the Schnee. The first day of the new year began and she hardly got any sleep… She hated how Port bet on the ship White Knight! What a ridiculous idea…

Then it happened… A bully, a member of team CRDL came forward and grabbed his Scarlatina by her ears. Blake was annoyed, she knew for a fact Velvet was more than strong enough to resist and even put Cardin in his place…

She hated how nobody stood up, people far too concerned with themselves to help a Faunus in need… Until Jaune stood and proved her wrong.

“Let her go Cardin.” The boy had height, skill and training above Jaune and yet he didn’t move, his reason…

“I won’t stand by now that I know better, I promised miss Belladonna I’d be the kinda of huntsman who fought for everyone…” She watched surprised, but also proud… It would seem she had been worried for nothing… Jaune wouldn’t suddenly become raciest or turn his back on his belief for a chance with a stuck up Atlesian.

And it was then a certain package came in for him… From not his father, but Grandmother… He opened it and it was during his first match in Combat Class that he entered wearing it…

Joseph Arc was a figure the Faunus people knew well… Choosing to support the Faunus despite racism and prejudice towards them and even leaving Vale altogether despite his family's status in the kingdom… But what he was most known for was his moniker… Humanities Greatest Traitor… what else would you call the man who turned Crocea Mors on human during the Faunus Right’s Revolution.

The man who fought for because it was the right thing to do… The man who while criticized by humanity was lorded as the Golden Lion of Domrémy… Who many a Faunus spoke stories of, a love story that strung the hearts of fair maidens between him and his Lioness wife Sarafina…

Jaune Arc entered the combat arena wearing his grandfather’s armor, refitted for him, and in his hands he did not wield a shield…

But two distinct Blades, the same blades his grandfather wielded, Crocea Mors, the Yellow Death, and Hankō-Tekina no Tsuno, The Rebellious Edge. Blake saw history repeated, and though it had been a tough battle… And hardly one of comparison to the legend she was sure… Jaune had won using his grandfather’s Twin Moon Style as flawed as it was… Winning with only weeks of training, better armor and a bit more confidence, but what he said next made her sure exactly what drove him to win.

“I won’t ever let you hurt another Faunus again, if you want to mess with Velvet or anyone else like her, you’ll have to go through me.”

Blake felt her heart skip a beat… Oh no… This, this was not how this was supposed to happen… She wasn’t supposed to fall for others no they obsessed over her! She was not falling for some cute farmboy who could probably throw her around with his stupid himbo energy, no Blake was better than that… then she saw him talking to Weiss again…

Okay… She wasn’t better than that… In fact she decided it was important that she make sure Jaune didn’t make the worst decision of his life and stain the glorious Arc Lineage with Schnee blood! Blake Belladonna made up her mind, she would seduce Jaune Arc, something she had never attempted before as she’d never needed to.

She would not have her valiant knight be stained by Atlas! She looked through her clothing called her sister Kali and planned out her next move. Blake Belladonna would not know defeat… She entered the classroom wearing a outfit straight out of one of her books dressed like a cliché sexy teacher instead of her usual suit.

She smiled when she saw Jaune try to be a gentlemen and not stare unlike most the other student in the class… Honestly, she could swear Xiao-Long was drooling… Gods she hoped she didn’t follow Illia’s example and walk down the path of Adam…

However what she appreciates most was substituting for Oobleck, focusing very keenly one the Arc’s influence on the war and the Schnee’s faults… Calling him up to the desk, using his lineage as the perfect excuse to have him right by her as she taught the class…

Making sure to show her fellow Faunus who Jaune belonged to and taking a jab or two at the angry little Schnee.

-0-0-0-

One might think Glynda would interfere with Blake’s plans… Usually, she might, but usuall,y Blake would be attempting things that were either criminal or would damage Beacon’s reputation… This was not one of them.

In fact… Glynda… Might actually prefer it if Blake’s plans followed through… The Headmistress wouldn’t lie to herself, she had grown dependent on Jaune… She enjoyed having someone cook for her, clean the house and do all manner of chores that she was simply too busy to manage on her own and Blake was too lazy…

And… Perhaps, she would admit to having a certain level of interest in Jaune…Mister Arc had helped her with her paperwork, only what she legally could allow him to do of course but still… Nobody ever tried to help her with her work… Nobody had ever given her a massage either… And frankly it had been one week since he started living in his team’s dorm and now she had never felt more miserable…

Besides, Blake would seduce Jaune she had no doubt… Frankly the fact she hadn’t simply by existing in the same room as him had been a miracle that even now surprised her… She’d already done the paperwork her and Blake’s living quarters to be changed to the same hall as JNPR’s not as though Ozpin would ever dare say no to the woman in charge of his coffee budget.

Besides there was a practical reason for all this, as long as Blake focused on Jaune her attention wasn’t on the White Fang… That alone made it worth bribing him and even allowing him leeway academically…

And besides… It was not as though Jaune was the only one to accidentally walk in on them in the shower… She knew what her partner read… Eventually, she was sure she’d be approached about a Ménage à Trois… For her school’s reputation and to keep Blake safe she would make the ‘Sacrifice’ of her dignity… And if she just so happened to enjoy it… Well, Glynda blamed Blake for always leaving her erotica lying around, as a stressed woman in her forties Glynda couldn’t help but indulge in said literature when it was laying right there… Yes, this was entirely Blake’s fault if Glynda did something perverse to mister Arc…

Besides, it wasn’t as though it could be helped Jaune needed Glynda’s help, after all, with Blake giving him so much attention, her fans were bound to strike soon…

-0-0-0-

Why, why was her goddess ignoring her! Ilia abandoned the White Fang, Followed her idol to this human-infested school and even joined the same team as a Schnee for Blake! And yet she ignored her! FOR HIM!!! For the blonde human!  NO NOT THE ONE SHE WAS PARTNERED WITH THE OTHER BLONDE!!!

Yang was alright for a human after all, she saw the truth that Faunus and Humans were only born to knee before Blake! She needed to make sure the Schnee won said Knight, before her goddess made a mistake and let a human defile her!

What irony it is to actually be thankful to a Schnee…

-0-0-0-

Velvet couldn’t stop looking at him, Jaune Arc her new friend, and maybe more… No no no! She smelt it! Prof. Blake had staked her claim… But still… Jaune was nice, and strong… And smelt so good…

Her instinct also drew her to him…To his arc Genes… Oh it was so wrong… But still… Maybe… Maybe if she talked to her fellow Faunus… After all Jaune needed protection from Blake’s fans… Maybe she could earn her keep…

And besides… Technically it wasn’t like her professor was actually dating him yet right… Jaune would never flirt with Weiss if he was involved so… so she still had a chance.

-0-0-0-

Pyrrha couldn’t take it! Why were these psycho attack Jaune! Or trying to at least… She wasn’t a champion of Mistral for nothing… Still who where these people and what was the Bellabooty Alliance!?

And here came more! Pyrrha took position readying for battle yet again! She was not letting these insane bastards hurt her partner! 

-0-0-0-

Weiss Schnee was furious, enraged, utterly completely and undeniably fed up with who you might ask… Professor Blake Belladonna! She was done with their haughty teacher taking digs at Atlas every chance she got and double so towards the SDC!... True, they weren’t infactual statements but the fact remained she should know better then to make her displeasure clear!

After all it wasn’t as though Weiss went around criticizing every Faunus… Anymore. She would not let this stand! She refused to be undermined by a teacher!

Thankfully there was… One method she had at her disposal to make an example of and impose her superiority to the woman… something Belladonna desperately and shamefully wanted that Weiss could exploit…

She looked at him, Jaune Arc, a person who as it turned out also seemed to be from a prestigious family… A fact she wouldn’t know if not for Prof. Belladonna…

Someone who after it had been pointed out by Illia seemed too simple, honest and painfully uninformed to have plans to actually aim for her with anything but romantic intent… Weiss would admit… she had been perhaps a bit… too rude to him at first and might have… slightly acted unfairly with him…

Besides… Prof. Belladonna may have started this petty game, trying to use Arc to seemingly insult her by taking his not entirely unappreciated attention… However a Schnee never loses, and if it meant she would have to bear giving Arc a chance to woo her… Well, so be it.

After all she wouldn’t lie and say he hadn’t appeared, slightly, and she meant very slightly dashing in his armor as he fought Cardin.

[ahhhhhhhghghhhgg]

TWST x autistic reader

HEARTSLABYUL

Other dorms: Pomefiore(coming soon), Octavinelle(posted), Scarabia(coming soon), Heartslabyul(your here), Savanaclaw(coming soon), Diasomnia(coming soon), Ignihyde(coming soon)

In this fic the reader will represented as (name) and will use gender neutral pronouns, the reader in this fic is not Yuu the reader is just a dorm member of heartslabyul (you can have whatever backstory you want, the only thing specific is that you have autism) also this is based of my personal experience with autism but that doesn’t mean all autistic people act the way the reader in the fic does. There is also mention of taking prescription medication for disorders related to autism in Duce’s part, if that doesn’t apply to you I’m sorry and if that makes you uncomfortable be warned.

—————————————————————————-

Riddle

You definitely wouldn’t like riddle at first, and oddly enough not because he’s obnoxiously loud, it’s because he was accidentally a huge butt hole,

You see as riddle is the house warden he would have looked over the files of the new students entering his dorm and seen you IEP or 504 plan and have known that you had autism…BUT as there is so much going on and so many new students it’s not unusual that this would slip his mind, so when he first sees you in the dorm garden sitting on the ground flapping your hands and rocking he comes over to put a stop to this “unacceptable behavior” and yells at you for somehow breaking one of the rules, as he yells your stimming only gets faster as he gets more mad, but when he sees tears in your eyes as you cover your ears and continue to rock back and forth he realizes he may have miss judged the situation. I assume he would have NO idea how to handle this so he’d probably run off and get tray to help you. After the um… bumpy start you’d be rather nervous when ever he came around but after a while you’d see that he was trying to be better, he’d try and not get frustrated when you need him to repeat or re explain something, and he’d be more lenient when giving you second chances after you accidentally brake the rules, and no matter how mad he is he won’t collar you, he knows from you IEP about you extreme sensory issues and it’s likely the tight collar would send you into a spiral. Over all you end up lurking riddle a lot in the end and come to him when your overwhelmed or when your having a problem with another student (he will for sure collar anyone who makes fun of your autism)

Riddle: “(name)?”

You: “look Riddle the bunny let me hold him!” *very excitedly shows him the bunny in your arms munching on some clovers*

Riddle: “wow (name) he must really trust you to let you hold him, however i believe I had sent you out here over an hour ago to feed the hedgehogs”

You: “oh yeah!……… I forgot.”

Riddle: “I can see that, although I think it’s more you got distracted, how about I accompany you to your task to help you remain on track?”

You: “that would be great thanks!…. can I?-”

Riddle: “-no you can’t keep the rabbit.”

You: “>:(”

—————————————————————————-

Trey

You like try, he’s nice! As vice house-warden he also knows about your autism, and he’s amazing at helping you, I feel like his experience with all his siblings would help with that, he somehow always knows how to calm you down, and he keeps little ginger bites he makes with him to give you if you get over whelmed. He’s basically the dorm mom, he’s always got everything on him, earplugs, bandages, stickers, you name it! Trey likes talking to you while he bakes, you remind him of his siblings in a way, Trey gives you little jobs that he knows won’t involve textures that would bother you. The first time you met Trey was when riddle was freaking you out he sent trey over, admittedly trey was more than a little confused on being sent over by Riddle to help a student, riddle usually preferred to handle students on his own however once trey saw you he knew why, first he sat down next to your rocking form and without saying a word offered his hand and after a minute of rocking you shakily took his hand, Trey squeezes your hand three times and then two times and then you do the same, Trey and you repeat that for about five minutes until your rocking comes to a stop, after he’s sure you’ve calmed down he helps lead you inside and into your dorm room, he turns off the lights and closes curtains and makes sure that you’re in an environment that’s not too overwhelming he quickly dismisses himself but tells you to come to him if you ever need to.

You: *staring into the kitchen while Trey is baking*

Trey: “…do you wanna help me?”

You: *nods*

Trey: “you can help me mix ok?”

You: *smiles and excitedly comes next to Trey*

‼️*que epic baking montage*‼️

—————————————————————————-

Cater

You don’t like cater, he’s loud and scary and loud and he takes pictures with his flash on and it HURTS YOUR EYES. Honestly your relationship with cater didn’t have a very good start, you were standing in the courtyard a few days after the start of school and you were looking at your favorite tree, you liked that tree a lot because it was very big and had good bark but your tree admiring was cut short when you hear cater loudly talking on his live stream about the new students in the dorm, then to your chagrin he spots you and comes rushing over and shoves his camera in you face and says something about introducing yourself, you freeze and stare at his phone like a deer in headlights, finally after what feels like an eternity cater just looks at you and realizes your not gonna say anything so he your so he awkwardly makes a quip and leaves. You stood there frozen for a good three minutes after he left, only moving when a lady bug landed on your nose. So yeahhhhh not a great start-

After that situation Cater started to notice you avoiding him, it was kinda obvious, you think you were sly, you weren’t. Eventually it got weird for him so he decided to talk to Trey about it, as he was complaining about it trey calmly stopped him and informed him of your autism and that you probably weren’t trying to be rude more like you were just avoiding a situation that would overwhelm you. After that Cater would make an effort to be quieter around you and to let you know he didn’t mean freak you out, after that he’s actually pretty good to be around, you guys can yap about music and other special interests together and he is ALWAYS ready to stand up for you, plus he’s great for doing social interactions you don’t want to.

Cater: “(name)Chan! there you are! I was wondering if you’d wanna be in my post for autism awareness month?”

You: “ummmmm could you have the flash off?”

Cater: “of course!:)”

You: “then yeah!!:)”

*insert awesome high five moment*

Both: “‼️‼️YEAH FRIENDSHIP‼️‼️”

—————————————————————————-

Ace

Ace is a moron, a lovable moron but still a moron

Ace and you knew each other in passing, you were both first yeas in the same dorm after all so you often had chores and classes together. You tended to avoid ace and his general group, you were sure he was nice enough but he had this tendency to loudly get himself into trouble and you had a hard enough time in school already, the first time you two really interacted was when one day Ace happened to be playing attention for once in class when you went up to professor Crewl and asked to take the test in the library instead of the classroom, ace had thought to himself about how it would be funny when Crewl yells at you for the ridiculous request but was shocked when he quietly agreed and you left the room. For the rest of said class he was racking his brain thinking of other times he’s seen you receive “special treatment” things like Riddle going easy on you, teachers extending due dates for you, he even saw professor Trein reading test questions to you once! Ace then decided that he wasn’t going to stand for favoritism! He’s gonna confront you the next chance he gets!

He finds you later as you just about to head to your dorm room for the night. “HAY (NAME)!!” You immediately stop and turn to look at him as he races over “what gives man? You related to Crowley or something?” Ace says as he exasperatedly stops in front of you, “…what?” You had no idea what was happening, Ace goes on to tell you about all the special treatment he sees the staff giving you and how he won’t stand for this hypocrisy when you quietly stop him, you then calmly explain that you have autism and you get accommodations for certain things because of your IEP. You can practically see the smoke coming out of his ears as he tries to process. Since then he hasn’t been different around you, he’s just a little more aware of you, just to keep an eye on you incase anybody tries something.

Ace: “(name) wanna study for the test together?”

You: “i feel like studying with you would make my grades worse”

Ace: “ouch man”

You: “you know it’s true”

—————————————————————————-

Duce

lIke Ace Duce and you knew each other in passing, and because of Ace you tent to avoid him as to not get caught up in there shenanigans, you have no problems with him though, from what you could tell he was the calmest of his group and when you had assignments with him he was always polite and determined. Now the first time you two really had a conversation was after one morning in the dorm when he saw you taking pills in the bathroom, Due didn’t have much experience with this subject but some of friends from his delinquent era were known to use substances, seeing you freaked him out but he decided to remain silent for the moment and confront you that night. So when you were just about to head to your dorm room for the night once again you heard someone call your name, however Duce was much quieter then Ace had been, he probably hadn’t wanted to draw attention to the two of you. Duce explained rather acwordly (despite thinking of this conversation all day) that he was… worried about you, you had no idea what he could be talking about and seeing your confusion he explained that he had seen you that morning taking pills and just as he started to go in a tangent about how incredibly dangerous that is you cut him off and let him know that you greatly appreciated his concern and he should never stay silent about an issues however you weren’t taking anything that wasn’t prescribed to you and that you needed medication to help with some of the symptoms that came with having autism. Duce was rather embarrassed and apologized for accusing you of differently. You made sure he knew you weren’t upset at him and since then you and Duce have gotten closer, he always checks in on you when you look confused in class and he helps you with chores, in return you try to take some of the heat off him when Riddle is mad

Riddle: *yelling at him for something Ace probably did*

Duce: 😰

You: “hay Riddle can you come help me please?”

Riddle: “(name) I’m kind of in the middle of something”

You: “but I can’t remember if I’m supposed to wear pink or if I’m supposed to make the hedgehogs wear pink”

Riddle: “of course the hedgehogs don’t need to wear pink”

You: “…then we have a problem”

Riddle: “WHAT!?”

Duce: *whispering* “thank you”

You: *gives him a thumbs up while being pulled away by a furious Riddle*

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Hay‼️I hope you guys liked this! Not enough people write for autistic people in my opinion, sorry if it’s not good, I don’t have a lot of experience writing for this dorm so I’m really sorry if it stinks 😭💀

Love you guys! PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS TO WRITE‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[illegiblewords]

FFXIV character/fandom vent.

Fr my take is that Athena does not have empathy wired into her brain. She only values people insofar as they reflect her, are extensions of her, or are tools she can use. She sees herself as possessing what she considers the most valuable quality in ancient society (intellect) and wants to become a god so that she can reshape existence in her own image because that's the only thing she values. Canon explicitly talks about most of this, and what isn't explicitly stated is made evident through concrete evidence and character choices. From this position, Athena committed absolutely INSANE abuse against her husband and son, which--no remorse as per no empathy. All of this stuff makes her super interesting, especially when compared with characters like Zenos (no natural empathy but puts in serious effort to figure out a bit of empathy despite how non-intuitive it is for him) and Hermes (who I think has a similar thing to Athena but sees the most valued trait in ancient society as being empathy, which he doesn't have... so he tells himself he has it the most but still tracks with the reflections/extensions/tools approach). Seeing how someone with a mental condition like Athena operates in answer to ancient society is cool as hell imo. She is also an unrepentant mad scientist archetype when that is SUPER RARE in female characters. Lahabrea meanwhile has indications of having been dehumanized by society, with this meaning he got taught that his personhood and personal desires/emotions are dangerous due to his power and status. He canonically does put a lot of weight on interpersonal connection and love not only evidenced in his willingness to do whatever it took to protect Erichthonios/the star, but his agreeing to soul bond with Athena at all. He wanted to find some part of her actually saw and loved him as an individual and not an instrument.

Part of Lahabrea canonically hates his position in the convocation, and it's explicitly stated that his most selfish wish unbound by intellect or morality is just to have his family back. It's not because he shares Athena's ambitions or morality, it's because he is deeply isolated. Even if what he had with Athena involved being used and abused it was at least something. Guy is cripplingly lonely. I don't think either Lahabrea or Athena ever actually knew each other before the soulbond. They each had ideas about who the other was and neither of them was actually correct. After the soul bond, Athena used the information she had as a prison and weapon against the person who disappointed her by not being her reflection beyond intellect. So even liking Athena's character and finding her relationship with Lahabrea interesting/fucked up... there is no way that's gonna be the same as people who think she loved him or believe she is a good, doting, invested wife. Fans who read Lahabrea as someone who was the same as Athena and on the same wavelength as her/into the abuse OR who take Lahabrea as the abuser in that relationship are going to be pretty off-putting with that understanding. It's abuse apologism and victim blaming/erasure. People are allowed their abuse apologism and victim blaming/erasure I guess but 1) it doesn't reflect canon 2) it shouldn't be rocket science that it would make some fans uncomfortable. But remember it's 2025 so marital and child abuse is just girlbossing. UwU People who don't like it are just mad about ship competition.

[princesssarcastia]

i think the thing that bothered me the most about the cnn presidential debate, in the end, is that it was nothing but hollow pageantry, and perfectly exposed how pretty much every presidential debate is nothing but hollow pageantry.

just two guys in a room, avoiding directly answering the questions they're being asked by two people who won't call them out on their bullshit. one of them avoiding directly answering by lying, the other one avoiding directly answering by obfuscating and changing the subject. corralled ineptly by two "journalist" "moderators" who can't be bothered to engage with the substance of the debaters' answers, and can barely be bothered to point out when the debaters don't answer the question.

and really, pretty much every debate is like that. the only use in a political debate is giving candidates a slightly bigger audience to read their platform to. in this election, where the two candidates are absolute known quantities, that's not really very helpful at all.

so you're left asking: why did they hold this debate? in the end, it was just a waste of everybody's time.

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been picking mostly only the essential flirt options with lucanis in the romance so far (I've personally found the dynamic much more natural and mutual when you do that, more like forming a solid friendship slowly and inevitably becoming something else and less like you keep pushing on him and getting little back b/c he seemingly just gets overwhelmed and goes into freeze instead), and I think rye is a pretty hard person to read at the best of times even though he's been Down Real Bad from pretty early on and their chemistry as people is naturally really good. so the way the almost-kiss plays out in this playthrough feels a lot like it has the added layer of lucanis realizing that no but for sure rook is flirting and not just being kind or a good friend* it IS actually happening it's not just wishful/fearful thinking!!! and then uh. maybe going a bit too hard a bit too fast in all the excitement at that revelation haha

*in lucanis' defense he has seemingly literally never had a friend who wasn't his cousin-brother before, under those circumstances I suppose some confusion is extremely natural if not outright expected lmao

[offthewall1979]

my review of Moonwalk: hot mess. ★★★.

[solar-halos]

okay i give up i cant write this pjo fic percy loves sally too much

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere Vlogger who gains a following by stalking you.

TW. DDNE ! MDNI ! Stalking, Implied NonCon, Voyeurism, Kidnapping

Sequel here

It started out with a few, weird videos that barely got any views.

He had a shaky camera, and he'd rarely ever talk. In fact, he didn't even show you in the beginning. It was more of videos he took walking in random places without showing his face. Honestly, it looked like he hadn't intended for anyone but himself to see the uploads, yet somehow they ended up floating across the feeds of some people.

| What is this even about lol | This is kind of strange... | What are you doing?

He was surprised to get any comments at all, but the last one especially jumped out at him. Any rational person wouldn't talk about how they'd been secretly following the love of their life to some random stranger, but he was far from rational.

Instead of replying in the comments, he made another video.

Why I Do This

" It's because I love her, and I want to make sure she's safe," he said with a shrug. The camera was propped up on a cafe table, and his face was clearly in view. Well groomed, handsome, young... he certainly didn't seem the type to be a deranged lunatic. "Besides, I like the thought that one day she'll see this and know how much I care." After he spoke, the footage was cut with a shot of his shoes slapping against pavement, wandering in some unknown location.

That one got quite a bit of views. Hundreds this time, out of seemingly nowhere.

| Woah is this guy for Real? | No way is he serious, this is probably just some project or some shit. | Lol who cares if it's real, it's kind of interesting | I wish I had a boyfriend like that | You should show us your partner lmao

The videos would come every other day or so now. There seemed to be a bit more editing involved, and the few glimpses of you that the audience got became like a fun guessing game.

"I never expected anyone to be interested in this," he admitted, this time more quietly in a library study area. " I thought people would think that this whole thing is weird, but there are, what? A thousand of you now? So strange... and here I thought I was the weird one," He chuckled and brushed his hair back gently. Just out of sight in the camera was your seated form, working diligently on an assignment. If only you knew how much he cared. Not only that, if only you knew how many people thought he was cool for loving you the way he did.

| Guys I'm starting to get kind of freaked out. Is the person getting stalked okay? | Nah, it's not real. No way. If he was for real he wouldn't be showing his face | Woah the quality has gone up so much! The sneaking into the house portion of the videos are always so creepy and realistic! Keep up the good work! | You should go into acting man | Our beloved stalker is getting pretty bold lol. I wonder how this series will end lol

Sure enough, he started having more fun making the videos. He invested in a higher quality camera, and he started to become more and more obsessed with not only following you, but documenting the whole thing. He invested in a new camera and bought new editing software. Plus, with the ad revenue he was getting from his growing viewers, he could afford to buy trackers and other things...

"Thanks to you guys, I've finally got enough to bring them home," he practically beamed as he stared into the black lens. He was hidden in a bush, the glow of your house lights illuminating his face. He held up a bundle of ropes and some cuffs. "I really couldn't have done this without your support. I'm really grateful. I might have to lay low for a while after this... but hopefully I'll be putting out some more videos about getting them settled in their new home. Again, thanks for everything."

When a missing persons alert was put out for you, hardly anyone paid any attention. His viewers didn't know your name, and he was smart enough to hide your face, so no one suspected a thing. Soon enough, you were a forgotten statistic to everyone but him.

| Woah new video! | The new set looks great! | They're acting is so realistic lol. It gives me chills. | Hey don't they kinda look like that one person...? | I'm glad to see how this series progressed lol, the stalking was getting kind of boring

"They love you," he hummed as he scrolled through the comments, the screen lighting up the darkened room. You were bound in his lap, whimpering, blindfolded and gagged as he rubbed soothing circles into your hip. "Not as much as I can, but I told you everyone was rooting for us to get together," He smiled and planted a kiss to the crown of your head.

He then stood up, carrying you in his strong arms before laying you down on his bed. He switched on the lighting and turned on the various cameras he had set up to catch your expressions from every angle. His voice was sickeningly sweet as he got you tied down and ready, his eyes flashing with barely contained obsession. "Now... some people have been asking for more... exclusive content. I think it's only fair we let them see... I wouldn't have you if it wasn't for them after all. Be good for me okay?"

[mononijikayu]

i saw mommy kissing santa claus — fushiguro toji

“Mom, I saw you kissing Santa Claus last night.” You froze, the coffee cup halfway to your lips as your cheeks turned a warm shade of red. Your husband Toji, on the other hand, lowered his mug, his sharp green eyes sparkling with mischief. He looked at you, one brow raised, fighting the grin threatening to spread across his face. “Oh, really, kid?” Toji said, leaning back casually. “Mommy here was kissing Santa Claus, huh?” You stammered, caught off guard. “W-well, Megumi, I think maybe you were dreaming—" “Nope!” Megumi insisted, crossing his little arms over his chest. “I saw it, mom. You were right by the tree!” 

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!;

WARNING/S: fluff, romance, nsfw, r-18, christmas day, santa, parenthood, pet names (babe, love, etc), love, humor, light-hearted, domestic life, slice of life, being in love, parenthood, married life, healthy relationship, toddler, family, late night sex, kissing, p-i-v sex, profanity, sexual intercourse, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of body praise, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of sexual intercourse, husband! toji, mamaguro! reader;

WORD COUNT: 7k words

NOTE: toji seems to me like the type who would have been so good at teasing mamaguro??? like he would definitely be the person that would also wear a santa claus costume just to put megumi's gifts on the tree and then know that megumi would be watching??? anyway i love their tiny family i am so floored every time i write about them. anyway merry fushiguro christmas!!! i love you all <3

box it up, christmas hun! (santa kayu 2024)

main masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

YOU ALWAYS ADORED CHRISTMAS. Even as a child, the magic of the holiday season was something your mother and father made sure to bring alive for you.

They worked tirelessly to fill each moment with joy, whether it was the way the house glowed with lights or how the scent of fresh-baked cookies lingered in the air. 

Your favorite memories were wrapped in those small, meaningful traditions—sipping hot chocolate while the snow fell softly outside, unwrapping presents by the fire, and gathering together to share stories and laughter. It wasn’t about the gifts or the grandeur, but the warmth of family and the sense of belonging.

Now that you had a family of your own, you were determined to recreate that magic, to pass down those same feelings of joy and love to the people you held closest to your heart. Fushiguro Toji wasn’t raised with those kinds of traditions. 

For him, the holidays were often just another day. Especially when he lived with his family and even after that. There was no desire for a fuss, no fanfare. But when it came to you, he was more than willing to step out of his comfort zone.

Toji might not have admitted it outright, but seeing how much the holidays meant to you made it easy for him to get involved. Whether it was wrestling with tangled strings of lights or holding your hand while you browsed for the perfect tree, he found himself drawn into the excitement. It was a quiet kind of joy for him, watching your face light up with happiness as you brought the season to life.

When your beloved Megumi came along, the holidays became even more special. Toji was quick to embrace his role, even if it meant helping you with putting out the tree or helping to bake cookies that somehow ended up burnt half the time.

He didn’t care if it was messy or chaotic—seeing the laughter, the wide-eyed wonder, and the unfiltered happiness of his family made every effort worth it.

What surprised him most was how much he’s slowly come to love those traditions, too. They weren’t just holidays anymore; they were the foundation of memories he never knew he needed.

He started to look forward to the little things, like staying up late with you to wrap presents or watching Megumi to try to stay awake for Santa, only to fall asleep halfway through their schemes.

Each holiday became another chance to build something new together, a season filled with traditions that were uniquely yours. Toji might have started off doing it for you, but somewhere along the way, he realized he was doing it for himself, too.

After all, your beautiful family meant everything to him, it’s now his safe zone—and these moments were proof that he finally had one worth celebrating.

So on this bright Christmas morning, your comely house was tenderly wrapped in a soft, magical stillness. The gentle hum of the house’s heater and the occasional crackle from the fireplace your husband had set up added to the warmth of the room. 

The Christmas tree glowed with colorful lights, their reflections dancing on the ornaments and the neatly wrapped presents beneath. The faint scent of cinnamon and pine hung in the air, blending with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Young and bright four year old Fushiguro Megumi shuffled into the living room, his favorite blanket dragging behind him like a cape. His small, sleepy frame was bundled in his fuzzy pajamas, the ones with tiny snowflakes printed all over. 

His dark charcoal hair was a tousled mess, sticking out in every direction as if he’d been wrestling with his dreams. He paused near the doorway, rubbing his blue–green eyes, and blinked at the cozy scene before him.

There you were, curled up on the couch with Toji, both of you cradling steaming mugs of coffee. Toji was dressed in his usual casual sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch, the other holding his mug. He looked relaxed, his sharp green eyes softened with a rare, unguarded warmth. 

You were tucked into his side, your legs curled beneath you, wearing an oversized Christmas special cardigan and your fuzzy faux fur slippers.

The two of you shared a quiet moment, sipping the coffee your husband brewed and exchanging conversation and content smiles as the early morning sunlight peeked through the curtains.

Megumi's sleepy gaze lit up as he took in the sight of the tree, its glowing lights illuminating the pile of presents waiting for him. His little mouth opened in a gasp, and he looked at the two of you with wide, sparkling blue–green orbs.

“It’s Christmas!” he announced, his voice still tinged with the rasp of sleep but filled with excitement. “It’s Christmas morning!”

You smiled, setting your mug on the coffee table and opening your arms to him. “Good morning, sweetheart. Merry Christmas.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He toddled over, crawling onto the couch and nestling between you and Toji. Toji chuckled, ruffling Megumi’s messy hair affectionately. “Morning, kid. Looks like Santa came through for you this time around, huh?”

Megumi nodded eagerly, his blue–green eyes darting back to the presents under the tree. “Can I open them now?” he asked, his voice filled with hopeful anticipation.

“Not even a good morning first?” Toji teased, arching an eyebrow. But the playful tone in his voice made Megumi giggle. “Too excited, you are.”

“Good morning, Dad.” Megumi said, grinning as he leaned against you. “Good morning, Mom.”

Your heart swelled at the sight of him, his excitement so pure and unfiltered. You kissed the top of his little head, wrapping an arm around him as Toji stood and stretched, walking over to grab the digital camera.

“All right.” Toji said with a smirk, motioning to the tree. “Let’s see what Santa left for you, kid.”

With a delighted squeal, Fushiguro Megumi scrambled off the couch and ran toward the presents, his blanket forgotten on the floor in his excitement.

You and Toji shared a tender glance, his usual smirk softening into a genuine, warm smile. You shake your head, looking at him with much contentment.

He walked back to you, settling beside you on the couch and slipping his hand into yours. His touch was steady, grounding, as the two of you watched Megumi dive headfirst into the pile of gifts.

His bright laughter filled the room, bright and melodic, blending perfectly with the soft crackle of the fireplace.

For a moment, everything was perfect—pure joy radiating from your son as he examined each box like it was a priceless treasure. Then, Megumi suddenly paused, his small frame still in the middle of the living room. 

He turned slowly to face you both, his expression shifting into something unusually serious, his little brows furrowing in a way that was far too mature for his age. When he wasn’t smiling, you were sure your son was quite a young old man in that tiny body. 

You blinked, puzzled, as Toji sat up straighter, his grip on your hand loosening. Before either of you could ask what was wrong, Megumi crossed his arms over his chest, his blanket forgotten entirely now, and declared with absolute certainty:

���Mom, I saw you kissing Santa Claus last night.”

You froze, the coffee cup halfway to your lips as your cheeks turned a warm shade of red. Your husband Toji, on the other hand, lowered his mug, his sharp green eyes sparkling with mischief. He looked at you, one brow raised, fighting the grin threatening to spread across his face.

“Oh, really, kid?” Toji said, leaning back casually. “Mommy here was kissing Santa Claus, huh?”

You stammered, caught off guard. “W-well, Megumi, I think maybe you were dreaming—"

“Nope!” Megumi insisted, crossing his little arms over his chest. “I saw it, mom. You were right by the tree!” 

His little pout was so serious it almost made you laugh. You tried to hold your composure, his cute little glare gleaming at you with the most adorable aggression. He looked too much like Toji when he was like this. And that had made you even more adoring of him in this way.

Toji’s chuckle deepened as he leaned back on the couch, completely unbothered. “Cookies and milk are standard, kid.” he said, shrugging casually. “But Santa? He’s a special guest. Sometimes he deserves a little extra appreciation.”

Megumi tilted his head, his little face scrunching in thought. “Like a hug?” he asked, glancing back at the presents under the tree, though his curiosity still lingered.

“Sure, sure.” Toji said, smirking as he threw a glance your way. “Or something like that.”

You nudged him with your elbow, your cheeks heating up again. “Toji, that’s not something you should be jumping into.” you whispered under your breath, giving him a look that was equal parts exasperated and amused.

Toji just grinned and leaned in closer to you, his voice low so only you could hear. “What? I didn’t even mention the mistletoe.” His tone was full of playful mischief, and you rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. 

“Mom? Dad?” Megumi’s voice broke through, his tiny hands clutching a brightly wrapped box as he looked up at you both. “Can I open this one first?”

You gave a soft laugh, glad for the distraction. “Of course, sweetheart.” you said, smiling warmly at him.

Toji reached over, ruffling Megumi’s hair again as the boy plopped down in front of the tree. “Go for it, kid. Let’s see what Santa left you.”

“Hmm. Okay.” he finally muttered, turning his attention to the colorful boxes waiting for him.

Megumi’s attention shifted entirely to the gift in his hands, his little fingers working furiously to tear the wrapping paper. You let out a breath, glancing at Toji, who was still watching you with that infuriatingly smug look.  His hands wrapped against your shoulders. 

He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Kissing Santa, huh, babe?” he teased, leaning in close. “Got any more Christmas spirit for me?”

Your face burned as you playfully shoved him, your smile betraying you. “Shut up, Toji.” you whispered, though the giggle that escaped ruined the effect.

“Guess Santa’s the lucky one this year, don’t you think?” he murmured.

You bit your lip, shaking your head but unable to hide the smile that crept across your face. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, yeah.” he said, his smirk softening into something warmer as he looked at you. “But you love me anyway.”

“Merry Christmas, babe.” Toji murmured, stealing a quick kiss.

“Merry Christmas, love.” you whispered back, heart full and cheeks still warm.

══════════════════

TOJI SAID HE PLANNED EVERYTHING. And knowing how much you trusted your husband, you do believe him. He hasn’t ever failed you before, after all. Your husband wasn’t going to fail you now either. He said he’s going to make it happen and he will. 

The night before Christmas was serene, the kind of quiet that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. The only sounds were the faint crackle of the fireplace and the occasional rustle of branches as the tree swayed slightly under the weight of its ornaments. 

The vibrant living room glowed softly, bathed in the colorful twinkle of Christmas lights that reflected off the shiny ribbons and bows of some of the presents you had already wrapped and bought for Megumi and each other. All Toji has to do now is add the other ones you bought for Megumi.

You had just finished cleaning up after dinner, your feet padding lightly across the wooden floor as you straighten a few stray decorations. A hum of curiosity pulled you toward the living room, and when you peeked around the corner, you couldn’t hold back a small smile from appearing on your pinkish lips.

There he was— Fushiguro Toji, crouched by the tree, fully dressed in a Santa Claus suit. The red fabric clung to his massively broad frame, the white trim looking comically out of place against his rugged demeanor. 

The bright red hat was askew on his head, barely covering his wild, dark hair, and the sight of him muttering multiple times under his breath while adjusting a precariously balanced present was nothing short of endearing.

“Damn this tree’s too small.” Toji grumbled, carefully shoving a particularly large box further under the branches. “How the hell does Santa Claus even do this without knocking everything over? Like, this is just an insane operation for a break in. Mission impossible even!”

You stifled a laugh, leaning against the doorway as you crossed your arms. “You’re really committing to this Santa Claus thing, huh?”

Toji glanced up sharply, his green eyes narrowing at you in mock irritation before softening into a lopsided smirk. You sighed, smiling as he enjoys taking in the sight of you like this. He has never thought he would ever have something as enjoyable as this life. And he always has you to thank for it.

“Caught me, babe.” he said, straightening up and dusting his hands off. “Santa Claus really had to work harder for this. And I gotta commit like he does, babe. I mean, this is harder than it looks, you know.”

You stepped into the room, your gaze sweeping over the scene. “You’re supposed to look jolly, not grumpy, love. Kids don’t want an angry Santa Claus.”

Toji snorted, tugging at the crooked hat and tossing it onto the couch. “You’re lucky I even agreed to wear this, babe.” he said, gesturing at the suit with a faint grimace. “This thing’s itchy as hell. How the hell did people wear this without having to scratch everywhere? Even my crotch feels itchy.”

You rolled your eyes, walking over to adjust one of the presents he’d just placed. “You’re not exactly selling the magic of Christmas, love.”

He leaned against the arm of the couch, his smirk turning sly. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m doing pretty good. The kid’s gonna love it in the morning. He’s going to have fun about Santa bringing in lotsssss of cool presents.”

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “And what about me? Does Santa Claus have any surprises for me? I mean….I should get gifts too, right?”

Toji’s grin widened as he pushed off the couch and sauntered toward you, his voice dropping to a playful, sensual murmur. “Actually, yeah. Look up, babe.”

Your eyes followed his gaze, landing on the tiny sprig of mistletoe hanging above your heads. You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. You looked at him with so much adoration, you couldn’t help it. He just made you feel giddy every single day. 

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

He took another step closer, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe. But I’m also a hardworking Santa Claus. And Santa likes to get paid for his trouble. I’m sure this pretty lady in front of him will ease his troubles.”

You rolled your eyes playfully once more, your lips twitching as you fought back a smile. “Naughty Santa, aren’t you?” you muttered, leaning up just enough to close the gap between you. “What about Mrs. Claus?”

“Don’t have one.” He smiles down at you, his thumb pressing against your lips. “Would you wanna volunteer to be one, pretty woman?”

You laughed aloud at his words. “Shouldn’t you take me out to dinner first?”

“Well, if you’d let me, then I will.” He grins at you.

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you.”

“Good. Santa’s happy about that.”

“Well, we only want that, don’t we?” You smiled at him.

“Hm, very great for securing your kid a spot on my gift list.”

You giggled at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but I’m your ridiculous, future Mrs. Claus.” 

You laughed at his words again, which made him very happy. Your husband Toji happily pressed hands forward and found your waist as he met you halfway, his sly lips brushing against yours in a passionate kiss that was far too warm for such a chilly night. 

You pushed deeper, kissing him back, pulling him closer to you. When you finally pulled back to take a breath, his grin was smug as it was shameless, his bright  green eyes gleaming with the endless joy that comes with having you as his beloved. 

“Best payment I’ve ever gotten. By far.” he murmured, his voice soft but smug.

You laughed, swatting at his chest as you stepped away. “Go finish your job, Santa Claus. There’s still a tree that needs all the presents to set up for the good kid.”

He chuckled, watching you with a lingering smile as you walked away. “Yes, ma’am. But don’t think this is over.” he called after you, his tone full of promise.

“I look forward to it, Santa!”

══════════════════

OF COURSE YOU’LL NEVER FORGET ABOUT LAST NIGHT. You could still feel your legs sore and your throat full of his pleasurable bites. But that wasn’t important right now, even though, of course it felt really good. Santa was really good with blessings. But that wasn’t the point. 

You could feel your cheeks turn redder and your ears more scarlet. You tried to calm yourself down as you continued to clear out stuff in the kitchen. The cookies were more important. You had guests coming over.

Of course, on the other side of the wall, the living room was alive with Megumi’s excited giggles and the joyful chaos of wrapping paper flying in every direction.  His precious little voice carried as he marveled at each gift, holding up toys and books like treasures. 

You peeked at him from the kitchen, your heart swelling at how happy he was. Your son’s joys were the reason you always worked so hard at the prosecutor’s office. And he was, genuinely, the happiest little boy. And that made everything feel like it paid off.

You were in the middle of arranging cookies on a festive plate when you felt it: a pair of strong arms sliding around your waist, pulling you against a firm chest. The scent of pine and the faintest trace of cologne told you exactly who it was before he even spoke.

“Toji, love.” you started, a hint of exasperation in your voice. “What are you doing?”

“Mmm nothing.” he murmured against your ear, his voice rich and teasing. He grins slowly as he catches a peak of the hickeys from your side, hidden in the cardigan. “Just came to say thank you for, you know... last night.”

Your hands froze, the cookie you were holding slipping onto the counter as heat rushed to your cheeks. You were just trying to forget about it now but the images started to flood your head once more as your husband nibbles against your ear.

“Toji, please.” you hissed, glancing nervously toward the doorway to make sure Megumi was too busy with his presents to overhear. The last thing you need is to traumatize your little son.“Not now.”

But Fushiguro Toji, as always, was undeterred. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his lips grazing just close enough to your ear to make you shiver. He hums against your skin, bright eyes looking at you with wanton affection.

“What? I’m just saying Santa Claus didn’t just get a kiss under the mistletoe. I mean he enjoyed it really well too—”

You spin your head toward him, your bright eyes wide as you whisper with embarrassment. “Will you stop? Love, our son’s on the other side of the wall and—”

Toji only grinned, his hold on you tightening slightly as he leaned in closer. “Come on, sweetheart. Admit it. Santa Claus always deserves a little something extra for working so hard, don’t you think?”

“You sly fox of a husband.” you hissed, swatting at his arm as your cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. “You are impossible. I swear, Toji.”

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “You’re cute when you’re all embarrassed like this, babe.” he teased, nuzzling the side of your neck in a way that made your heart skip. “But I wasn’t lying, you know. Best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

Your heart melted at his words, even as you tried to maintain your composure. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas, love.” you muttered, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as a small smile crept onto your face. “Otherwise, it’d be a different story.”

Toji shifted, leaning back just enough to study your beautiful expressions. His bright green eyes were soft, a rare tenderness shining in them that made your breath catch. The air of joy blossoming in his chest ever so fondly when he looks at you more. 

“Lucky, huh?” he said, a hint of sincerity beneath the teasing. “Nah. I’m the luckiest guy every day I wake up to you. Every day, every minute, every second. Every day. For forever. I’m the luckiest guy on earth, babe.”

Your face burned hotter, and you turned back to the cookies to hide your expression from him. You could feel your heart making flips and jumps against the wall of your chest. He’s always so good at making you feel this way. 

You were really going to be overwhelmed for all your life with how much he always makes you feel the universe with his love and tenderness. You were always going to be falling in love with this man over and over again like this. You sighed, admitting defeat to him. 

 “You’re ridiculous, love.” you mumbled, but the warmth blossoming in your chest betrayed your words. “Really….”

He couldn’t help but chuckled again, reaching around you to snag a cookie off the plate. You gasp as you try to stop him, but he lifts it up and you pout at him, knowing you can’t reach it. He snickers at you. You turn back and continue putting away the other cookies.

“That’s why you love me, babe.” Toji said, his voice smooth and teasing as he took another bite of the cookie, his smirk practically glowing with satisfaction. 

Before you could muster a response, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your temple in a kiss so gentle it made your heart flutter. “Don’t work too hard. Megumi and I are waiting for you, okay? Still got some presents left for us to open.”

You watched him stroll back into the living room, his broad frame relaxed, his laughter already mingling with Megumi’s excited chatter. His voice carried back to you, warm and playful, as he greeted your son again, seamlessly joining him in exploring his new toys. 

The sound of Megumi’s giggles and Toji’s deep chuckles filled the house, creating a melody that could warm even the coldest snowy, winter morning. It was what you wanted to wake up to every single day. It was all you could ever want for all of time.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, leaning back against the counter as a soft smile tugged at your lips. It was uncontrollable, this joy, this love that bubbled up in your chest. This was a love that had a place to go and blossom here in this place, in this family. In this life you have.

Ridiculous, you thought with a shake of your head. Toji was ridiculous. But he was also your, the most precious of men who made even the simplest moments unforgettable, who filled your life with laughter, warmth, and love.

And your precious Megumi. Your sweet, bright boy, was the perfect little light who completed the picture. Everything about life made sense when you met Toji and had Megumi together. Life began when you had this. And you knew he would agree with that sentiment.

You looked out at the scene before you, the two of them sprawled on the floor amid wrapping paper and toys, Megumi pointing animatedly at something as Toji nodded with exaggerated seriousness.

It was so small, so ordinary—and yet it was everything. It meant the world to you. No, you shook your head. It meant the universe to you. And you would never trade this for anything in the world.

You felt it all in that moment: gratitude, contentment, and a profound sense of love. How lucky you were, to have this life, this family. This was your everything. And no matter how many lifetimes you could dream of, you knew there would never be anything more beautiful than this.

“Babe, Megumi wants his mommy!” Toji’s voice called from the living room, pulling you from your thoughts.

You chuckled, pushing off the counter and heading toward the sound of your favorite voices. “Coming, love!”

As you stepped into the living room, Megumi beamed up at you, his hands full of his latest toy, while Toji looked over with a smirk that was both mischievous and affectionate. You settled in beside them, feeling their warmth wrap around you like a hug. 

Life wasn’t just great to live—it was perfect. 

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

══════════════════

TOJI'S TAKING ALL THE OPPORTUNITIES HE CAN GET. But if you were being honest, so were you. Last night wasn't enough for you to get your fill. When your husband is someone like Toji, how could you?

The house was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the floorboards as the winter wind pressed against the walls.

Megumi had been tucked into bed after a long, laughter-filled Christmas dinner, his tiny snores signaling that he was sound asleep. The evening had been perfect—filled with warmth, love, and memories you’d cherish forever.

Now, it was just the two of you.

Toji leaned against the doorframe of your bedroom, watching as you pulled off the festive sweater you'd worn all day. His gaze was heavy, but not with exhaustion—it was something else, something that made your skin tingle.

"You finally sitting still for once?" he teased, his voice low, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin that followed. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I was waiting for you to catch up."

That was all the invitation he needed. Toji crossed the room in a few long strides, his arms circling your waist as he pulled you close. His lips found yours almost immediately, hungry, but unhurried. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, and for once, it felt like you did.

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly as he deepened the kiss. His hands roamed, tracing the curve of your waist, the small of your back, and eventually settling at your hips, holding you firmly against him. The heat between you both grew, sparking like the fire you’d left burning in the living room.

"I’ve been waiting all day for this, babe." he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and filled with need.

"Me too." you admitted, your breath hitching as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of soft, teasing kisses that made your knees weak.

The world outside didn’t matter anymore. Not the snow piling up on the windowsill, not the mess of dishes waiting in the kitchen, and certainly not the clock ticking down the last hours of Christmas Day. All that mattered was the way Toji made you feel. You always feel so seen, loved, desired when it comes to your beloved husband.

He guided you toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second. The night was yours, a stolen moment of intimacy in the chaos of life.

And as his lips found yours again, you knew this was the best gift you could have asked for—time together, just the two of you, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s arms.

Toji’s arm slid right back around your neck, firm yet careful, pulling you closer as his lips claimed yours once more. The way he touched you sent shivers cascading down your spine, every sensation heightened by the quiet intimacy of the moment.

His grip was confident, possessive, and it made your pulse quicken as pleasure rippled through you like a rising tide. Each kiss, each graze of his hands against your skin, ignited something deep within you, leaving no room for anything else but the heat building between you.

He knew exactly how to unravel you, how to make you melt under his touch, and he didn’t hold back. He never holds back. Not when it was you he has to make love to. Making love to you was his church. It was his patronage. It was his repentance, it was his atonement. It was his salvation. His love for you was his salvation.

“Toji…” Your voice was barely a whisper, a mixture of breathlessness and yearning.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and intense, filled with something raw and unspoken. His thumb brushed gently along your jawline as his other arm stayed firmly around your neck, keeping you grounded in the moment.

“You doin' so good, babe.” he murmured, his voice rough and low, sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

The way he looked at you, the way he held you. Everything about it was overwhelming in the best way. Your body responded instinctively, arching into him as the pleasure coursed through every nerve, building higher with each kiss, each touch, each whispered word.

Time seemed to blur as he continued, his movements unhurried but deliberate, as though savoring every moment with you. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. This was all there was right now, just the two of you, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of each other.

Toji’s lips trailed down to your neck, his hot breath against your skin making you shiver. He knew exactly where to kiss, where to linger, drawing soft gasps from you as his hand caressed your side, sliding over the curves he loved to touch.

The pressure of his arm around your neck wasn’t rough, but good enough to make you feel the tension of his touch against your flesh. Everything about his touch, it was deliberate, possessive, reminding you that he wanted every inch of you, body and soul.

Your hands roamed over his shoulders, pulling him closer, urging him to keep going. The sensations rolled through you like waves, each one stronger than the last, your body responding to his every move. You could feel the heat of him against you, the tension between you building with every touch, every kiss.

“Toji…” you murmured again, your voice trembling with need.

“Hmm?” He didn’t stop, his lips finding that spot just below your ear that made your breath hitch. “Say it again, babe.” he whispered, his tone dark and teasing, sending a fresh jolt of desire through you.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging gently, and the low chuckle that escaped his lips vibrated against your skin, sending shivers cascading down your spine. The sound was rich, deep, and filled with promise, igniting a fire inside you that grew with every passing second.

His lips trailed along your jawline, slow and deliberate, before finding the sensitive curve of your neck. He lingered there, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that made your breath hitch.

Your body press instinctively closer to him. The warmth of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth against your skin, left you trembling, a quiet gasp spilling from your lips.

His hand slid lower, the roughness of his palm contrasting deliciously against your soft skin. His touch was teasing at first, featherlight, exploring, testing your limits.

But then it grew bolder, more certain, as he found the places that made you quiver beneath him. Every brush of his fingertips sent sparks shooting through your body, the intensity of it building with each moment.

You arched into him, desperate for more, the ache between you growing unbearable. A soft moan escaped you, unbidden but unstoppable, and the sound seemed to ignite something in him.

He let out another low, satisfied laugh, his breath hot against your neck as he murmured, “You sound so good, baby. Don’t stop.”

The pleasure rolled through you like a tidal wave, crashing over every part of you until all you could feel was him. It was all his touch, his heat, his weight against you.

The room seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you locked in this intimate dance, your bodies moving together in perfect, unspoken harmony.

Your skin grew slick with sweat, the heat between you almost unbearable but so, so good. Every movement, every touch, every kiss only pulled you deeper into him, the connection between you electric and all-consuming.

“Toji…” you whispered, your voice trembling with need, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

He lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes smoldering with desire as he leaned in close.

“I’ve got you, babe. I got you.” he murmured, his voice rough and filled with raw emotion.

And with those words, he claimed your lips again, pouring every ounce of his passion into the kiss. His hand tangled in your hair, his other still exploring, holding you firmly against him as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Toji’s breath hitched as he stilled, buried deep inside you, his forehead pressed to yours. The heat of your body wrapped tightly around him, the soft, rhythmic flutter of your walls making him groan low in his throat.

It was almost too much for you, how big he was, how whole you feel when he fit you to the hilt. Everything about it the way you felt, the way your body seemed to pulse and cling to him, drawing him deeper into the moment. It all just felt too good.

His hands gripped your hips firmly, anchoring himself, trying to hold onto the frayed edges of his control. A thought flickered in his mind, unbidden and primal: Can I even last long with this?

The idea sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through him, his jaw clenching as he tried to steady his breathing. He didn’t need to move—didn’t need to thrust or grind or do anything but stay right where he was, utterly consumed by the way you felt around him.

The subtle contractions of your body, the way you tightened around him and the way he fluttered tightly against your walls, that was all enough to drive him mad. You were still as you were before, you were paradise in every sense of the word.

“Toji…love....oh—” you whispered, your voice a mix of need and wonder, your nails dragging lightly down his back. The sound of his name on your lips only made it harder for him to hold back.

“Shit, babe.” he murmured, his voice rough and strained. “You’re gonna kill me like this.”

He pressed his forehead harder against yours, his breath coming in uneven gasps as he tried to wrestle with the overwhelming pleasure. Your moans can only grow as he pushed in and out in a more passionate speed.

“I swear… I could come just like this, babe.” he admitted, his voice low and ragged. “The way you’re squeezing me so good, babe… you feel so damn good.”

The confession sent a shiver through you, your body responding instinctively, and he groaned again, his fingers digging into your hips as if to ground himself. He wanted to move, to chase that inevitable high.

But at the same time, he didn’t want to lose the sheer intensity of the moment—didn’t want to lose the way it felt to just be inside you, connected in every way. He still needed to last a little bit more, he wanted this moment to last.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he murmured, “You’re perfect. You know that?” His voice was raw, filled with both reverence and desperation.

And as he stayed there, lost in the heat and intimacy, he wondered if he could ever get enough of this—of you. Every sensation was heightened, every second stretching into eternity, until nothing else existed but him.

The overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. In his arms, you felt completely unraveled, utterly cherished, and entirely his. The world outside faded completely—just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet intimacy of your shared space.

Toji’s movements grew more deliberate, his bruised lips finding your own again as he deepened the kiss, his arm around your neck keeping you anchored to him. His tongue wrestling against yours as he tried to thrust deeper inside your mouth, earning a groan from your throat.

The way he held you, the way he touched you—it wasn’t just desire; it was love, raw and unfiltered, pouring into every moment.

Your body trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure he brought you, and you clung to him, lost in the heat of the moment. Toji pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his voice low and husky when he finally spoke.

“You’re mine, babe.” he whispered, the words heavy with emotion and promise.

His calloused hand brushing your cheek as his eyes met yours. And in that moment, you knew there was no place you’d rather be than here, with him, wrapped up in the intensity of his love.

"Always." You whispered back to him.

He felt satisfied with that as he pushed deeper into you.

You couldn't speak words anymore by the end of that.

The world was cold from the snowing echoes, but you were warm.

Warm in the pleasure of the husband you loved the most.

══════════════════

epilogue

The room was still bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, your breathing finally steady after what had been a Christmas evening full of all sorts of intimacy and bright warm laughter.

Fushiguro Toji, ever the opportunist, propped himself up on one elbow, the smirk on his face practically devilish as his fingers began tracing patterns on your bare shoulder.

“You know, babe.” he started, his voice low and teasing, “I’m thinking Santa deserves a little overtime bonus for all his hard work tonight.”

You turned your head, arching a brow as you caught the glint in his eye. “Overtime? Didn’t we just finish the main shift? Both last night and tonight?”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of energy left, babe.” he murmured, leaning in to nip playfully at your ear. “The question is… do you?”

You opened your mouth to reply, maybe to tease him back, but the sound of soft footsteps in the hallway made you both freeze. Your eyes darted toward the door, which creaked open just enough to reveal a mop of messy black hair and the outline of a sleepy little boy clutching his favorite stuffed animal.

“Mom? Dad?” Megumi’s voice was tiny, wobbling just enough to tug at your heartstrings. “I had a nightmare…”

Toji let out a low groan, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he muttered, “Of course you did, kid. Of course you did.”

“Shush!” you hissed, elbowing him lightly before sitting up and pulling the blanket around yourself. “Come here, sweetheart.” you said softly, patting the edge of the bed.

Megumi shuffled in, his little feet barely making a sound as he climbed up onto the bed and wriggled his way into the space between you and Toji. He immediately buried his face against your side, his stuffed animal squished between the two of you.

“What happened, bud?” you asked, stroking his charcoal hair gently.

“There was a big, scary monster…” Megumi mumbled, his voice muffled against your side. “It chased me, and it almost got me.”

You looked at your husband who sighed back at you. Toji pushed himself up onto one elbow, running a hand through his disheveled hair, looking towards his little son.

“A monster, huh?” he asked, his tone light but laced with mock seriousness. “Did it look like a giant turkey? ‘Cause I told you eating all that stuffing was a risky move.”

Megumi pulled his face away just long enough to glare at his dad, his little brow furrowed in unimpressed indignation. “No, Dad.” he said with a hint of exasperation. “It wasn’t a turkey. It was scary!”

“Scarier than me?” Toji teased, flexing his arm dramatically as if that would somehow settle the matter.

You shot him a look, biting back a laugh. “Toji, love. Please.” you warned softly, shaking your head.

“Okay, okay.” Toji relented, holding up his hands in mock surrender. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Megumi’s hair. “Listen, kid, no monsters are getting past me. You know that, right? They take one look at your old man and run for the hills.”

Megumi’s little body relaxed against you, his small hand clutching tightly at your shirt. “Promise?” he whispered.

Toji ruffled his hair. “Promise. Now get some sleep. You’ve got another day of playing with all those presents tomorrow, and I don’t want to hear any complaints about being too tired.”

Megumi let out a sleepy little hum of agreement, his breathing evening out as he drifted off within minutes. Toji flopped back onto his pillow with a long sigh, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“So, what do you think? Nightmare slayer and round-two initiator all in one night? I’m a man of many talents.”

You smirked, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re also a man with a very tired wife and a son snoring between us. Maybe tomorrow, Toji.”

Toji groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. “Tomorrow? I’m not getting any younger over here.”

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as you settled back down, pulling the blanket up over the three of you. “Goodnight, Santa.” you teased, nudging him lightly.

Toji huffed but couldn’t suppress the faint smile tugging at his lips as he turned to wrap an arm protectively over both you and Megumi. He looked at you both warmly.

“Yeah, yeah. Merry Christmas to me." he muttered, his voice soft and warm. And despite his earlier grumbling, you could feel the contentment radiating from him.

For Fushiguro Toji, there was no better gift than this—his family, safe and sound, wrapped in the warmth of a love he’d never stop cherishing. Life was great.

[ryker-writes]

Hey there! I loved giving Malleus a stone as an accidental proposal! It would make sense to me that mers would also see it as that! Could we possibly get one with Floyd Azul or Jade?

omg yes absolutely! Thinking about it, merfolk probably would also take it as a proposal! Especially with their culture being inspired by The little mermaid and she loved to collect things. I love this request! For those of you who haven't seen the Malleus part, it's linked below!

Request rules and Masterlists

Accidentally proposing to Malleus with a rock

Accidentally proposing with a rock (Octavinelle)

Floyd:

It was an innocent gesture. You wanted to give Floyd a rock to show you care about him. A simple gift that you thought he'd like. Well, you think he likes it a little too much.

When you gave the rock to Floyd, his eyes went wide, and he quickly smiled and pulled you into a tight hug (careful not to hurt you too much), "Awwww of course!"

He seemed so happy to get the rock, it honestly surprised you. Then he started lurking around you more. Like, hovering behind you and picking you up at random times to carry you around anywhere. When you asked, he said he had a right to carry and lurk now.

You also caught Jade snickering more than usual at you and Floyd, like he knew something you didn't. But both him and Floyd didn't elaborate. Instead, Floyd laughed and wrapped his arms around you, setting his head atop yours, "Silly silly~"

It wasn't until later when you visited the Mostro Lounge's VIP room that you got a hint of what was happening. Normally you'd just go there to hang out, but you'd noticed Azul was unusually frustrated today. When he saw you, it only seemed to set him off on a rant as he paced about the room.

"I can't believe this. Of all the things you could've given, and to all the people...I can't even begin to imagine what's going through your mind. You must be as impulsive as him to do this and with such short notice! Now he wants to use the whole lounge for a day and dumps all these things to prepare on me. Could you not have waited until I've graduated at least so I wouldn't have to put of with this? You two could at least help me instead of leaving me to figure out how to cater for an entire wedding without giving me any specifics-"

At this point, you kind of zoned out because you were stuck on the whole "wedding" part. What?

As Azul paced around the room and ranted, without you fully listening, your mind was working to put together the pieces. He clearly was blaming you for something, and impulsivity could only mean Floyd was involved. That, and he mentioned giving him something...

Oh no...

Right on time, Floyd had strolled into the room, completely interrupting Azul's rant. But the second his eyes landed on you, his expression lit up and he'd made his way over to you. His arms quickly wrapped around you and he basically leaned all of his weight on you as he cheered, "There you are. I've been looking all over for you. What're you doing here with Azul?"

Hesitantly, you had to ask, "Floyd, what's going on?"

Tilting his head, he rested his cheek on top of your head and hummed in amusement, "Ah. Azul's just jealous of us. Getting married while he's stuck talking all business and contracts."

You're what? Did you hear that right?

Before you could ask anything else or try and explain anything, he'd picked you up again, and started walking out of the room with you. A very frustrated Azul calling out to you two, "At least give me something!"

Only for Floyd to wave a hand dismissively as he carried you out, "Nah. You got this. We're busy."

Something told you he wasn't going to let you just back out or call it a friendship rock...

Jade:

You like to think you know Jade pretty well. You've spent a lot of time together, so you thought it'd be a great idea to give him a little gift. So when you found this nice smooth and pretty rock, you knew it'd be the perfect gift for him. It's even practical since he can put it in one of his terrariums!

He even seemed happy when you gave it to him, after brief shock of course, and he had that sharp-toothed smile you knew well.

"Well well, I must say I never expected you to be so bold to give me something like this, but I accept."

That was all he said. You weren't really sure why it'd require boldness, but he didn't elaborate and instead brushed it off and quickly left saying he had work to do.

The day carried on as normal until you saw Floyd. He ran up to you and swung you around, "There you areee~ Welcome to the family! Ma's gonna love ya!"

Disoriented, dizzy, and confused, you had to ask, "Floyd? What are you talking about?"

He swung you around once more before finally setting you down, "Ah, you know. Proposing to Jade like that? Real brave of you."

Huh? Proposing?

But in a true Floyd fashion, he just ginned and waved goodbye as he scurried off, leaving you with many questions. The only way you'd probably get answers is to ask the man himself. So, you quickly made your way to the Mostro Lounge.

There, Jade was setting up some tables, as composed and collected as ever. Seeing you, he straightened up with that same sharp-toothed smile as earlier, and welcomed you, "Good, you're here dear. We have a small dinner to celebrate our engagement before we can begin making preparations."

Stunned by the wildness of it all, you tried to nervously correct him, "Jade, I feel like there might've been a slight misunderstanding-"

"Nonsense," He began, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around you, "It's common knowledge that gifting a special rock is a marriage proposal among merfolk. You're mine now, dear."

Azul:

Azul and you are really close. There was no denying it when you spent so much time at the Mostro Lounge VIP room just hanging out with him. So you thought you’d do something nice for him and get him a little gift.

Then there was this perfect rock you found. It was smooth and round with specks of blue and purple, perfect for Azul.

You didn’t expect him to act so…odd when you have it to him. You held it out in your hand towards him, and he just stared at you in shock. His face turned about as red as Riddle’s hair, and you could tell he was struggling to speak. If Jade and Floyd were here, they’d no doubt tease him for the look on his face.

After a few moments of stunned silence (you figured it was best to just be patient and wait for him to collect himself), he took the rock with slightly shaky hands. He held the rock close to him, over his heart, and took a deep breath. Then, he cleared his throat, and tried his best to answer, “I…wasn’t aware you felt so strongly, but it’s clear now. Don’t you worry, I can handle this. I’m…delighted to receive this.”

Not thinking much of his words, you simply smiled at him. It wasn’t uncommon for Azul to get a bit flustered by small gestures. He wasn’t treated well as a child, so you know little shows of appreciation mean a lot to him.

He scurried off with the rock to his office moments later, and there was silence for a moment before you heard him sputtering on the other side of the door. He probably would be embarrassed if you listened in though, and you wanted to spare him (this time).

The day went on as usual for a while. Classes went by, you spoke to some other friends, and went to visit the Mostro Lounge again later.

But the Lounge was…busier than normal. Students who worked there were scrambling about trying to serve customers and clean and adjust the smallest of details on things. Several of them looked super stressed, and some looked like they were about to pass out. Jade and Floyd, were the only calm ones who stood off to the side, watching them all with amused smiles.

You went up to them to ask what was happening, but Floyd spoke before you could, “Can ya let Azul flounder a bit longer? This is fun to watch.”

Azul was floundering? But he’s usually so calm and collected when he’s working. He couldn’t still be flustered from your gift earlier, right?

“What’s going on with Azul?”

Jade chuckled and was the one to answer you, “You sent him on quite the spiral. He’s got everyone working overtime to make sure everything is perfect for you.”

Now more confused, you had to ask, “Me? What did I do?”

At that, the duo only laughed more, clearly knowing something you don’t, but refusing to elaborate at you and everyone else’s expense. There was only one way you were going to get an answer; from Azul himself.

Marching past the two, you made your way to Azul’s office, barely knocking before going in.

And boy was he startled. The second you entered the room he sat up straighter and his cheeks turned pink, but he quickly tried to hide it behind his hand and muttered, “Ah, you’re here. My apologies, I’m still working on the contract right now.”

Walking up to his desk in complete confusion, you asked, “What contract? What’s going on?”

There was a moment of silence throughout the room. His gloved hands fidgeted with the pen and papers on his desk in front of him, trying to figure out the right words to say.

Then, he slid the paper over to you for you to read. Well, you only read the top before sitting stunned.

‘Contract of Marriage’

Huh???

Now it was your turn to be stunned into silence. So, he filled the silence, “I…was quite surprised by your gesture earlier, but I accept. If you’ll have me, I’d love for you to sign this. It’s quite possibly the best contract I’ve ever written.”

[drdemonprince]

The conversations about accountability & apologies that we've been having in social justice circles these last few years have basically trained everybody to fawn.

We've been telling people that if they are accused of any wrongdoing or of hurting anybody's feelings, it is their obligation to apologize immediately, and never to hedge, disagree, or to explain their rationale what they've done.

In their apology, we expect them to articulate every single thing that they have done that was damaging in the strongest language possible and to declare outright that they have harmed someone, often multiple groups of people, even if they are not sure of the impact (or could not even possibly be sure).

If a person's apology is anything but immediate and entirely self-excoriating, we accuse the person of downplaying the damage they have done, failing to be accountable, and manipulating others.

In this way, we've made it impossible for a person to ever take their own side lest that be taken itself as a form of wrongdoing. We have trained our fellow social-justice-minded people to believe that if they do anything but worsen the case against themselves, they are being irresponsible.

I say we, in all of this, because I have partaken in all of this rhetoric, made these kinds of criticism, given accused people this type of advice.

And I have followed it myself, often to a damaging effect.

I have taken responsibility for problems in which I truly did not believe I played a part, I've overstated the damage that I've done so as not to risk understating it, I've ascribed malice to my intentions when I knew it wasn't there, I've agreed with people's most negative, bad-faith narratives about conflicts involving me that they were not even present for, offered up information about myself that was not a third party's business in the name of transparency, apologized for things I haven't done -- and in doing all of this, I have denied my loved ones the opportunity to really hear me about what I was going through and my motivations when I was in conflict with them, things that any true friend or close associate would obviously want to hear about if they cared about me.

This aim of giving the perfect apology and taking perfect accountability has been nothing but an isolating force in my life, because it has barred me from openly entering into necessary conflict with people when our needs were incompatible or they had hurt me just as much as I'd hurt them. The fear of being a manipulative, unaccountable DARVO-er has led me to roll onto my back and expose my belly, falling over myself with panicked apologies and the most unflattering information possible cast in the least explicable light, almost outright begging for others to become angrier at me and believing that it was only way I could ever possibly be accepted back.

We've drilled into people that the way to be good and responsible is to allow people to view us as negatively as possible, to even arm others with information that will confirm that point of view, and to never insert our own perspective or needs on the matter at all.

And yeah, there are a lot of shitty people out there who dodge accountability easily because their power ensconces them from any consequences. but the primary problem with that was never that they wrote a shitty notesapp apology that used the unforgivable phrase "I am sorry if you felt XYZ." The real problem was that there was no community that held enough influence to hold them to account, and for their victims there weren't ever adequate supports or protections.

instead of addressing any of that in a remotely systematic way, we have taken to picking apart every accused person's every word and deed for evidence of inner moral failure and created a culture in which we think we can determine a person's safety by how artfully they put words together when they are under threat. and what do you know, plenty of bad faith actors and conflict avoidant cowards and people who just dont understand what they are even being accused of can do that just fine.

[chimerafeathers]

i really love how intensely Mirabelle reacts to act 5 Siffrin botched friendquest.

Isabeau is mostly operating out of concern and, eventually, hurt. he already knows something’s up before Siffrin gets to him. he knows something truly awful must be wrong for Siffrin to be lashing out like they are, and as soon as he can’t handle the situation anymore, he leaves and asks (with strained cheer) for time apart to cool off.

most of Bonnie’s anger comes from being upset and afraid that Siffrin would willingly put themself in danger for no reason, when that’s exactly why they’ve been so unsettled since the eye incident. they hate that Siffrin values their own life so little, they hate that they’re the cause of any pain or loss for him, and here he is, putting himself in that situation AGAIN. on purpose. it’s loud and explosive, but it’s familiar, too, being “hated” by Bonnie for this reason.

Odile pushes, and keeps pushing, until her concern overwhelms Siffrin and they strike where they know she’s most vulnerable. she gets physical, just for a moment, grabbing his collar before controlling herself and letting go. her fury shuts down into cold detachment, and she walks away.

but Mirabelle—dear, sweet, gentle, loving Mirabelle, “the most wonderful being on earth,” with her secret “ruthless side” that largely involves lightly badmouthing people behind their backs and then apologizing—slaps them. immediately.

and then COMPLETELY RENOUNCES THEIR FRIENDSHIP.

not just “we’re not friends anymore,” but “we were never friends in the first place.”

that’s!!! pretty extreme!!!!

of course, she ALSO starts by asking what’s wrong. something must have happened for him to act like this. but as soon as Siffrin brushes her off, she jumps past that line of questioning and dives headfirst into re-evaluating everything she thought she knew about them as a a person.

if he could say something like that to her and not see anything wrong with it, then she was wrong to treat him as a friend, wrong to read camaraderie into his teasing, wrong to think they must care about them all under their aloof demeanor.

that’s how Mirabelle phrases it—“I was wrong about you”—but i think that there’s a hidden layer of I was right about you, too.

she talks about the way they tease her like she had to convince herself that he was doing it in a friendly way. she says they talk like they “know better than her” like that’s a thought she’s had for a LONG time.

“Always soooo mysterious, Siffrin, always talking as if you're better than me! As if you know me!!! But you don't, Siffrin!!! You're just as lost and useless as I am!!! So stop!!! Talking!!! As if you know me!!!!!!”

none of this comes across as a new, sudden way to view Siffrin for her. it doesn’t shock or confuse her. it makes her angry, defensive, almost like she was waiting for something like this to happen at some point. the feeling of resentment, frustration, jealousy, being patronized and condescended to—this is something she’s been actively pushing down and rejecting this entire time, but they’ve given her ample reason for it all to boil to the surface. violently.

Mirabelle’s kindness is not inherent or easy. it’s a choice she’s making. she treats Siffrin warmly because she gives him the benefit of the doubt—refusing to act based on anxiety-fueled, cynical speculation, and reassuring herself that his actions are driven by care and friendship even if she can’t quite see it.

“I was wrong about you” doesn’t mean she always and without question believed them to be a fundamentally kind, caring person from the beginning—it’s that her first, colder instincts were right, and she was wrong to convince herself otherwise.

never mind that she asked what was wrong at first. she barely gives them time to speak in their own defense, to explain what they really meant by what they said. all of her suppressed doubts and frustrations are getting aired out now, now that all the trust she’d so deliberately placed in him has been betrayed. her pain feels bigger than this singular moment, so when she hurts him back, she makes sure it extends back through the entirety of their relationship for him, too.

“You're awful. You're not my friend, not my ally, not anything. You never were.”

like the others, she goes back to the clocktower and tells Siffrin not to come back until later. but there’s a finality to the way she ends this confrontation that isn’t quite there with the others. Isabeau and Odile reach their breaking point and remove themselves from the situation, asking for space to cool off but still somewhat leaving the door open for Siffrin to tell them what’s really going on at some point. Mirabelle is the only one who tries to fully cut ties—after everything else she says, her “I don’t want to see you until tonight” reads to me somewhat as “I don’t want to see you anymore unless I have to.”

I can’t wait to never see you again.

even back at the clocktower, Mirabelle doesn’t really defend Siffrin’s place in the party when Odile suggests leaving them behind out of concern for their trustworthiness on the most important day of the journey. Isabeau and Bonnie protest out of sentimentality and faith in Siffrin’s abilities and connection to them, and Mirabelle agrees, but…

“I agree, but... B-But would he even agree to come with us, still? Maybe they won't even come back tonight...”

she doesn’t say much outside of that. maybe the stutter and hesitation here are signs of regret about how things happened, but she lacks Isabeau and Bonnie’s confidence that Siffrin even wants to come back to them in the first place. she doesn’t trust that their bond was real anymore. maybe it never was in the first place, or maybe she broke whatever was there herself.

and she’s still mad when they finally catch up to Siffrin at the King! and she makes sure Siffrin knows that—after saving them, assuring him that he no longer needs to fight, that they’re all there for him. she still cares, of course she still cares—she’s still hurt, too, but they can figure that part out once there’s less world-ending stuff going on.

she’s the first to say that they all reserve the right to still be angry at Siffrin later—and that they’ve already forgiven him.

she’s also the first to say we want to stay with you, too. it’s not just you.

she was wrong! she thought they didn’t care but they care so much, it’s overwhelming, it’s world-ending.

i think she’s gonna be wallowing in guilt post-canon the moment she remembers what she said and did TO SIFFRIN and not just what Siffrin said to her. especially now that she knows Siffrin’s exact hangups, and especially especially if she figures out what Siffrin was trying to say.

they put themself through hell out of loneliness and fear that none of the others cared about him the way he cared about them, he was going insane from repetition and exhaustion and hunger and trying to keep them all safe and together, and all they did in the midst of all that was say something kind of mean to her one time (that turned out to not even be MEANT to be mean it was supposed to be HELPFUL they just SAID IT ALL WRONG) and she SLAPPED THEM? and told him that they WEREN’T FRIENDS AT ALL??? how could she!!! she should have known better!! what they said hurt a lot but still!!!

so when they eventually manage to try to talk about it, they end up almost in, like, a guilt competition.

Mirabelle apologizing for how she reacted, that she shouldn’t have yelled or hit him, that she doesn’t want to be the kind of person who acts that way out of anger and she’s sorry that she made Siffrin expect that reaction from her, she should have known better and believed in him more and they only messed up like that because they were losing their mind in a time loop but what’s HER excuse—

and Siffrin going nononono stop I deserved it—(HUH DON’T SAY THAT NO YOU DIDN’T)—and that he should never have said such awful things to her, ever, and she was under so much pressure already with the weight of the country and everyone’s lives and futures and her religion and their whole party counting on her to do this impossible task because she’s the only one who can, all this unbearable expectation and hope crushing her, and they KNEW that but they thought they could skip to the ending as though her feelings didn’t matter at all, like helping her wasn’t as important as saving a little time—

until they’re just. in tears together, apologizing for all the horrible things they did in between complimenting each other’s strength and kindness and resilience and how much they admire each other and saying that no, everything you did was completely understandable, actually, the only one who sucks here is me. which neither of them will accept coming from the other!!

they’re so similar, in ways they couldn’t really understand, before.

warm, affectionate, perfect Mirabelle, the resolute hero, a beacon of compassion and hope for all those around her, who wears her heart on her sleeve, her fear making her courage shine all the brighter—nothing like the insignificant, forgettable Siffrin, too terrified to be known, too fragile to touch, too selfish and disgusting to bear letting go.

cool, mysterious, unflappable Siffrin, the worldly traveler, as charming and silly as they are confident and skilled, who brushed off losing an eye like it was nothing, accepting the risks of this journey with barely more than a shrug—nothing like the anxious, stagnant, undeserving Mirabelle, a fraud and a nobody crumbling under the weight of a mission too important to be entrusted to someone like her, doubting herself, doubting her friends, doubting her mentor, doubting her faith, too weak and brittle to bend and change the way the world needs her to without breaking.

not worth bothering others with their problems. they should be able to handle this alone. stay positive, stay calm. breathe in, and out.

they’ll struggle with it, still—the hiding, the minimizing—but now, they understand each other a little better. they can hold each other accountable for what they leave unsaid.

it’ll get easier, eventually. they have plenty of time.

[sinner-as-saint]

drag me under

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader 

Run-through: After what has to be one of the most exhausting and exasperating meetings he’s ever had with the Bishop and Mother Superior, Father Charlie desperately needs a quick release. It was wrong, he knew and he’d repent for it later. Except, what he thought was going to stay as a secret between him and God ends up involving a third witness – you. 

Themes: smut, explicit language, mentions of infidelity, degrading kink

Fuck. He was close. 

He’d shut himself inside the confessional booth a few minutes ago because he absolutely needed to get his mind off certain things. Those meetings always left him feeling like a damned pressure cooker, and he always needed to let out some steam after. 

All that arguing, and having to keep his cool and maintain composure when all he wanted to do was yell and tell them all that he was right and they were wrong. It had to be the generational gap, but sometimes he felt like he was being tortured with how much his mindset differed from those of his superiors. Why couldn’t they just let him do things his way? 

But he pushed all that aside for a moment. Just a moment, that’s all he needed. Fist wrapped around his throbbing cock, his spit and precum giving him just the right amount of lubricant, his head thrown back against the thick wood as he worked his fist up and down his cock, as fast as he could. 

He tried to keep his gasps and moans as quiet as possible. It was late in the afternoon, there wouldn’t be anyone around during this time, but just in case. A groan left his lips anyway, and he bit his lip immediately after. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck… 

He could hear how fast his fist moved, the friction was almost just as good as how he remembered sinking into a warm body felt like. Almost, not quite as exhilarating though. 

Fuck! 

A few more tugs, a couple more unrestrained moans later, and he came with a loud sigh. Spilling all over his hand, gasping for breath as he blinked a couple times, already feeling his thoughts flowing much easier. His all black suit, his collar around his neck didn’t feel as tight and constricting anymore. 

He quickly cleaned himself up with a handkerchief he’d have to put in the trash later, he sighed one more time as he made sure to fix his clothes and was about to walk out of the booth when he heard a timid, soft, almost hesitant voice ask: 

“Are you done, Father?” 

He froze. 

Shit. 

He cleared his throat. It sounded like a young woman on the other side. He tried to look but the screen only allowed him a partial view of your face. Okay, okay, don’t panic. He could still get out of this situation. Maybe you didn’t hear what he was doing. Maybe you’d just gotten in here. Maybe you were too naive to even know what those sounds were. 

He cleared his throat again, “How, uh, how long have you been waiting for?” He tried his hardest to sound apologetic for making you wait. 

A moment of silence. Then you replied, “Long enough.” 

That voice. He knew that voice, didn’t he? 

He said your name out loud. A pause then, “Is it you?” He asked. 

A sigh. Then, “Yes, Father.” 

Ah. He let out a quiet breath, relieved. 

He had no reason to worry if it was you. You were what he called a lost little lamb, too innocent for her own good. He knew your family. They were nice people who frequented the church, and lately your parents had been worried about you since they found out that you had a troublesome boyfriend who was nowhere near the god-fearing type your family wanted you to date. 

He also knew that you, unlike your parents, were not seen very often at church. He saw you here and there, sometimes at charity events, or sometimes at the tennis court with your mom. But never in the confessional booth. 

Father Charlie sat up straight, looked ahead at the wooden door and asked, “This is your first confession?” 

“Yes, Father.” 

“And what would you like to confess?” He asked, knowing he was going about this all wrong. No signs of the cross, no ‘Bless me Father for I have sinned’, but he was impatient and… intrigued. What could a shy, timid girl like you have to confess?

“I… I slept with my boyfriend.” 

He couldn’t help but turn towards the screen. He watched you as you fidgeted and squirmed. “Did you?” He didn’t recognise his own voice. 

“Yes, Father.” You answered. “But that’s not all.” 

“Oh?” 

A trembled sigh left your lips, then you said, “While we were, um, when he was...” You struggled to speak. 

And Father Charlie felt weirdly interested all of a sudden, so he urged, “It’s okay, you’re safe here.” He cooed gently, using the soothing voice he always used with everyone. “Use your big girl words, come on. When he was, what?” 

“Father, I cannot say it.” Your words sounded heavy with shame. 

So he urged you even further, “Like I said, you’re safe here. Now tell me. When he was, what? On top of you? Fucking you? What happened, did he hurt you?” 

“No,” You said quickly. “No, he was… gentle.” 

Father Charlie raised an eyebrow, “And?” 

You let out a shaky breath and confessed, “I wanted him to…” You trailed off, “I know it’s wrong to want these kinds of things, but I didn’t want him to be gentle. I wanted him to be rough. To make it hurt.” 

Another shaky breath left your lips, and this time Father Charlie felt like he was the tormented one. He frowned as he looked down and noticed that he was hard again. Shit. 

He cleared his throat again. “I see.” 

But you were quick to add, “It’s wrong, isn’t it? To want things like that? Isn’t it, Father?” 

There was a strangely innocent desperation in your voice even as you referred to sinful things. The kind of innocence he wanted to take into his hands and crumble it into pieces but also preserve it at the same time. 

Fuck, he was hard. And it was painful because you were right there. 

“Depends,” He answered, “What other things do you find yourself wanting?” A small, quiet gasp left your mouth. Father Charlie caught himself smirking at the sound of it. “And don’t lie. I can’t help you if you lie.” He noticed movement on the other side of the screen. Maybe your hand touching your neck out of nervousness. 

“I… I like being told what to do. I like authority. I like…,” You gasped, as if not believing you were actually saying all this out loud, “I like it, I mean I like the idea of men being mean to me, in bed. I want them to take what they want from me, with consent of course. But I don’t want them to be gentle about it.” 

Oh fuck. 

“That’s, uh…” He found himself at a loss for words. His cock was making his trousers tighter. His hands were shaking with the need to grab and feel a warm body. Preferably that of a shy young woman who thought she should be ashamed of her desires. “Yes, that’s not right.” He did his best to sound stern and disappointed. 

A soft sound came from the other side. Sounding a lot like a sniffle. “I’m sorry, Father.” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “I should go.” 

It all happened too quickly. The sound of the door opening, the sound of you trying to rush and get out. Before he knew it, he was out of the booth as well and stopping you from leaving. Your wrist in his hand, his chest heaving, tears down your face, a shocked look in your eyes. 

“Did I say you could leave?” He asked, looking down at you and noticing the way you didn’t even fight him. Aww, a lost little lamb indeed. 

“No.” You whispered, going along with the movement as he walked you backwards until your back hit the nearest wall, beside the booth. 

“You’re disobedient,” He noted, “I should punish you for that.” 

“Yes,” You mumbled, like you were ready to be punished for your sins. 

“Yes, what?” He chided. 

“Yes, Father.” 

And oh, how he would’ve loved to have you on your knees in front of him. To have his cock in your mouth. To make real tears stream down your face, ruining your makeup. But he didn't have too much time. 

He stepped closer, trapping you between the wall and his hard body. He noted the way your eyes remained fixated on his white collar, those teary, innocent eyes. You didn’t even know the treasure you were. 

“Look at me,” He ordered. 

You did. Unable to look away once you did. 

“You’ve been a bad girl, you know that, don’t you?” He asked. You nodded at him. “And I need to punish you, because I need to make sure you’re good from now on, don’t I?” You nodded at his words again. “Good,” He whispered, then grabbed both your hands and placed them on his shoulders as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to yours. 

He fucking that little gasp of surprise that left your mouth as he kissed you, hot and messy. His hands reached down and bunched your dress up before he slipped his hand in between your legs.

He chuckled into the kiss when he felt your flimsy underwear. “See now, good girls don’t wear things like this. You understand?” He whispered, running his knuckles along your wet folds and smearing your arousal around through the thin fabric. “I’m gonna have to take it off, okay?” 

You nodded again. 

And he did, he slid your underwear down until it fell to your ankles. He watched as you stepped out of them and he immediately slid his knee in between your legs, followed by his hand again. “This is all part of your punishment,” He whispered into your ear, and watched how you shivered upon feeling his warm breath. He slipped his two fingers into you with ease and smirked against your skin as he felt your arousal coating his fingers, which he curled inside of you, hitting all the spots which made you gasp and moan.

You whimpered and closed your eyes, sighing and moaning when he leaned down and nibbled on your skin around your throat. He chuckled, sliding his fingers in and out of you, “See what a little slut you are? Cheating on your boyfriend, and letting me touch you however I please,” He scoffed, “Is this what you came to do? Was this your intention?” 

You bucked your hips against his hand impatiently. “Please,” You murmured. 

He pulled his fingers out, and messed with his belt, undoing it and the zipper on his trousers until he pulled his cock out. “Please what?” He asked, rubbing his wet fingers along his hard cock, “Huh? What do you want?” 

You looked up at him, pleading with your eyes. 

“Oh?” He taunted, “You want this cock? Huh?” He leaned in and grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks together, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke in a lowered voice that sent shivers down your back, “Does this little slut need a cock in her?” 

“Yes,” You murmured, unable to take it anymore. 

“Yes, what?” He growled. 

“Yes, Father.” You quickly corrected yourself. 

He smirked, smug. Then he lifted you up until you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your back against the wall, and the two of you partially hidden by the booth. His cock briefly brushed against your wet folds in the process and you moaned out loud. 

“Shh,” He reminded you, “Quiet.” 

“Please,” You whined, eyes shut. “Please, Father…” 

“Shut up,” He hissed as he aligned his throbbing tip with your entrance. “Shut your needy little mouth up.” 

You moaned as he pushed himself into you. Stretching you out as he went. His nails digging painfully into your skin as he held you by your hips, and yours sliding into his hair as he filled you up nicely. 

“So fucking wet for me…” He whispered against your cheek as he rocked in and out of you. “I bet you’re not this wet for your little boyfriend, huh? Does he feel this good? This big?” He chuckled. “Does he know you let random men fuck you?” 

You were a mess, moaning and whimpering when he began moving in and out of you. His cock reached places that had you whining out loud. 

“Shh,” He hissed again, “Shut up, you little slut. Shut the fuck up.” He groaned as he fucked you. He kept an eye on your surroundings, just in case someone wandered in. 

But you kept moaning like crazy so he did the only thing his lust-filled brain could think of, he brought out his soiled handkerchief from earlier and shoved it in your mouth, and slapped his hand over your mouth. “Yeah, that’ll shut your filthy mouth up, huh? Is this what you wanted? Your boyfriend doesn’t fuck you like the needy little whore you are, does he?” 

Your moans sounded muffled now, and he fucked you relentlessly, earning more and more muffled whines and moans and whimpers out of you each time his cock stroked your walls. He loved the way your eyes rolled back when he fucked you harder, reaching deeper. 

He pounded into you as fast as he could, your back slamming into the wall with each thrust. “Filthy girl.” He sped up into you again, making you cry out. “So fucking desperate, aren’t you? You couldn’t help but spread your legs for me, huh? Even for a man of God? You couldn’t help it.” He taunted. “What else would you do for me? Would you come here everyday and let me have you? Hmm? Would you let me fuck your needy little pussy like your boyfriend can’t?” 

He knew you couldn’t answer him, so he chuckled and continued as he felt your walls clench around his cock. Fuck, he had missed this. He’d missed making a beautiful girl lose control while he was inside her. He knew you couldn’t think right, he was so fucking deep inside you that all you could do was whine and cry, and let him take what he wanted from you. Which is exactly what he did. He didn’t stop. He kept fucking you harder and faster against the wall. 

His hand left your mouth, making sure his handkerchief remained nice and snug in there, and reached down until he wrapped his fingers around your throat, he squeezed just enough to make your eyes widen. “Yes,” He goaded you, “You like that, don’t you? Your messed up little head likes this,” He taunted. “It’s filthy in there, isn’t it? You think about these things at night? When you touch yourself before going to bed? Is this what you’ll be thinking about from now on?” 

Your body shuddered, trembling in pleasure. He looked down and noticed the slight cleavage of your sweet little dress. Fuck, he wished he had time to really peel it off your body and have you crawl around naked just so he could look at you. He was sure he could spend a lot of time just looking. 

“He doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?” He chuckled, his body moving expertly against yours, “No, how could he? He’s just a boy. He wouldn’t even know what to do with a dirty girl like you.” He leaned in, whispering against your wet cheek, “This is what you needed. I’m what you need.” 

Your mind was a foggy mess already, and he could tell by the muffled by wanton moans that he could still hear that you were so, so close. 

“I bet he doesn’t even come inside you, does he?” He scoffed, “I think he’d be too scared to do that.” He pulled away and looked into your eyes. “But you want me to come inside you, don’t you? Remember, it’s all part of your punishment. You wanna be a good girl and take all of it, don’t you?” 

You nodded quickly, more tears streaming down your face. 

“Go on then, you little slut. Come for me. Come all over this cock like the needy, desperate whore you are.” He let out a strained moan, “I said,” He spoke, menacingly, “Come for me!” 

Your body tensed up, legs tightening around his waist, hands tugging at his hair, before you let go and came undone around his cock. Walls clenching around him, nails scratching his neck and a loud muffled moan erupting from your mouth as he made you come hard. 

Father Charlie groaned as he came shortly after, spilling inside of you. And fuck, even he could feel how much he filled you up. 

He pulled the now wet cloth out of your mouth as you both felt his warm cum dripping down your inner thighs. He replaced the handkerchief with his fingers, gliding two of them across your tongue, in and out of your lips as he said, “You’ll come back, won’t you?” He whispered against the corner of your mouth as you caught your breath while sucking on his fingers. “Now that you got a taste of what it’s like, you’ll be back as often as you can just to let me fuck you again. Won’t you, little lamb?” 

—

a/n: call me sister megan bc i’m frothing–

[warlockslovetomeow]

time flies...

when captain jenna assigns you to infiltrate an intel hub disguised as a jazz club in the N109 zone, you make one simple request to the universe: don’t let me run into my ex. that prayer goes unanswered. but others? you might just get lucky.

pairing: exbf!sylus x female reader warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, porn w plot, porn w feelings, exes w unresolved tension, possessive behavior / mild jealousy, loooots of banter, thigh rubbing build up, dirty talk, like filthy, bratty!mc, sylus wants you so bad, walk him like a dog sis, oral (m & f), eating from the back, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, mating press, cumming inside a/n: wrote this with one hand!!!!! i need this man so bad!!!!!!!! wc: 5.9k

"....located in the N109 zone. any questions?"

and then she shot you. captain jenna—your fierce and until approximately five seconds ago, loyally trusted commander—had just fired her pistol at you within point-blank range.

you swallowed the bullet lodged in your throat before responding, reaching deep within yourself to appear as neutral as possible.

"no, captain!"

damn it all. of course your previous experience in the N109 zone would put you at the top of the list for this mission. unknown to your captain though, you'd rather chew on knives than risk a chance encounter with your ex boyfriend.

but since the intel she's assigned you to look into involves a new strain of protocore tech that mimics wanderer signatures, making it nearly undetectable and dangerous for all factions, it was high priority. and unfortunately for you, the same thought was likely running through his mind.

it'd been months since your messy breakup, months since you've spoken to each other. he wouldn't dare try anything again, especially in a compromised place like a covert jazz club.

when it came to sylus, however, you knew better.

you run through the briefing details once more in your head. this intel hub operates like most others in the N109 zone: secretive and precise. a surefire way to get yourself killed in places like these is by looking confused or unsure.

your orders are to tell the bouncer you're searching for a man wearing green inside, the color being code for the information category. according to association intel, green signifies everything related to protocores. once inside, you're to head to the bar and order an emerald isle, the contents being a gin and mint martini. the mint serving as a tip-off that you're looking for fresh, new information.

from there, you're basically on your own. the guise of a jazz club is intentional, patrons are to fraternize with their drinks visible in hand, searching for people with similar colored ones. once you find someone, you relay what drink you ordered, and if they have information on such a topic, they'll take a sip from your drink.

the catch? no refills allowed. if the person has irrelevant information, you've wasted part of your opportunity.

you saunter up to the entrance of the club, your black maxi dress shaping your body perfectly and almost causing you to disappear into the low lighting, exactly as planned. if the situation were to get threatening, your dress wouldn't be a risk.

however, this mission required you to look enticing while eyes were on you. the low, fishtail back and thin straps were sure to prompt onlookers to approach you and chat. you'd keep them in line, if not with words then with your loaded gun strapped firmly to your thigh.

you smile sweetly at the bouncer, saying everything required and getting inside without breaking a sweat. the club is busy, but not overwhelmingly so. you do a full room scan and mentally note that there are around 8 people with green drinks in hand—all at different levels of fullness. after you order the emerald isle, you make your way to the floor.

time to hunt.

the moment you walked in, sylus choked on his drink.

of course you'd be the one sent here. of course the same woman who hadn’t so much as looked at him in months would stroll back into his life with a drink coded for protocore intel.

the very thing that blew everything apart.

you hadn’t changed a bit. still walked like you owned the room. still wore danger like perfume. and those straps clinging to your body? a challenge written in silk. that dress wasn’t for him, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but wonder if some part of you knew he’d be here. if some part of you wanted him to look.

hell, he was looking. couldn’t stop, actually.

he leaned back in his seat on the second-floor balcony, his eyes locked on your every move through the dim haze and low lights. moments ago, he’d been halfway through a trade with the scrawny male seated across from him. but now, the man might as well be invisible. sylus couldn’t care less about anything that didn’t involve looking at you.

he watched you flash that fake, pretty smile—the one you wore while you were on missions. no one else would know the difference. but he did.

when he saw the color of your drink, he almost laughed. no doubt you were here for information surrounding the new wanderer mimicking tech. the irony twisted like a blade between his ribs.

you hated him for hiding his connections to protocore manufacturing. said it was betrayal. said you couldn't trust someone who kept secrets like that. but you never saw the full picture. he was protecting you from yourself.

you didn’t understand, maybe you still don't, but he hadn’t been lying to hurt you. he knew what getting you involved would cost. he knew you, and the second you found out the truth about what exactly onychinus was sponsoring, it'd drag you into the depths of the mystery surrounding your aether core. he knew you wouldn't be able to stop pursuing it all, no matter what it did to you.

and now, here you were. wading waist-deep into the same fire he lost you to.

sylus clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around his glass. he should look away. should let you do what you came here to do.

but then some lowlife in a tacky rust-colored suit slithered up to you, requesting a dance. he was too close. acted too familiar. sylus watched your smile shift into something tight and forced. the kind you used when you were baiting someone.

no.

he wasn’t going to just sit back. not when you were back in his orbit, whether you meant to be or not. and not when he still wanted you just as badly as the day you walked away.

this had to be some sort of punishment. you must’ve pissed off the universe in a past life to end up pressed against a man wearing the ugliest rust-colored suit known to mankind. he smelled like sweat masked with cheap cologne. every inch of him screamed sleaze. yet, here you were, letting him touch you. because, of course, the filthiest bastard in the room had the most valuable intel so far. and with your drink nearly empty, you couldn’t afford to cut the dance short.

his grimy left hand rested on your waist—drifting lower with each passing second—while his other clung to his green drink like he planned to propose to it before the night was over.

"...only sold to the 1%, then trickling downwards to whoever can afford those prices. say darling, you oughta come home with me tonight. there's a lot more i can tell ya, you know, in private." his voice dripped like oil, and as he leaned in to whisper the last part, his fingers slid beneath the open hem of your back.

you resisted the overwhelming urge to pull out your pistol and really show him something private.

instead, you forced a breath and put on a tight smile. a smile that was nowhere near reaching your eyes, barely a curl on your lips. then you steered him back to the reason you were even still breathing the same air. “who are they buying from? is there no logo? no trace of manufacturing?”

“not a thing,” he said, grinning like he thought he was clever. “but I did hear some old abandoned buildings around the N109 zone have been lighting up lately. enough space to test high risk tech in those.”

you could barely hold back your eye roll. the way he spoke, like you owed him something just for opening his mouth, grated on every nerve in your body. and he looked at you like he planned to collect on that imagined debt in full.

“where’s the closest one?” your tone had a sharp edge now. his fingers kept wandering, and your patience was running thin. you needed this conversation over. and this man dead.

"hmm? not far from here. i'd say about—”

he didn’t get to finish.

a tall figure stepped between you and the creep, sliding a hand onto your waist in place of the one you'd been seconds from snapping in half. you didn’t need to look. didn’t need to double check.

you could recognize sylus by touch alone.

“mind if I cut in?” he said smoothly, his voice low and razor-sharp. “this man appears to be more thirsty than classy.”

you sighed. worst timing possible.

"no, thank you. that’s the idea,” you replied coolly, but it didn’t matter.

sylus had already made his move. the shorter man stumbled back, face ghost-white, mumbling something that sounded like an apology—or maybe a prayer—before scurrying off as if sylus had just rearranged his face with a look alone.

then, he turned to you.

he didn’t speak at first, only stared. like he couldn’t breathe, like he couldn’t believe you were real. his gaze swept over you, slow and starving, as if he were trying to memorize every inch before you vanished again. not a trace of a smirk, just a man who’d been sucker punched by the sight of you.

but eventually, sylus flipped the mental switch. he stepped closer, hand outstretched, voice as smooth as sin, "this place was dangerous before you walked in. now, it doesn’t stand a chance.”

you stared at him, unblinking, letting the silence hang just long enough to make your point. the theatrics didn’t impress you, but the corner of your mouth twitched anyway, a reflex you hated. with another sigh you stepped forward, your hand sliding into his like muscle memory.

before you could get a word in, sylus reached for the drink still in your hand. his fingers brushed yours, unhurried and deliberate, as he took it from you without asking to silently relieve the burden.

his other hand found your waist and you let yours rest on his shoulders, the familiar feel of him under your fingertips sending a shiver through you.

it was dangerous how easy it was. how quickly your steps matched the rhythm. how naturally your body leaned into his, like the time apart had never happened. the jazz music swelled around you and you both moved with it like something practiced in another life.

then his mouth was near your ear, voice dipping low as the air between you tightened. “careful. you dance like someone who remembers exactly how I feel.”

“i dance like someone who can’t wait for this song to end," you shot back, your tone sharp enough to cut.

"no," he said, like he knew something you didn't. "you dance like someone pretending the space between us isn't pulling you in.” 

a tense beat passed.

"poetic. a bit too drab for my taste, unfortunately."

“you used to like the way I spoke when it was your name in my mouth.” his voice danced down your spine like a dirty promise, hot enough to make your stomach twist.

you hated it. hated that he still had this hold on you. that months later, you still reacted.

you bit back, voice steady and full of edge. “and you used to listen when I said no.” 

“you never said no when it was just the two of us.”

his tone was so unbothered, so undeniably sylus. you hated how your chest ached at that. you'd buried that version of you with him a long time ago. or at least you thought you had.

you glared at him, trying to telepathically communicate how badly you wanted him to burn.

the song then faded into a slower, darker tune. like even the music knew how deadly this was becoming.

you stepped back, but only a hair. not enough to give him the satisfaction. just enough to remind yourself you still could.

his gaze followed the retreat like it hurt him to let you go. “how did you find out about this hub? did you come alone?”

you didn’t answer. instead, you turned from him. a clean, intentional break. you were done letting him circle you like he still had the right.

but his fingers caught your wrist before you could fully disappear from him again, placing your hand back on his shoulder.

“an emerald isle,” he murmured. “what intel are you here for?”

you looked him dead in the eyes, annoyance painting your features. “sooo many questions. do you always get this chatty when you're trying not to look desperate?"

god, he missed you. missed when you got like this with him. he loved nothing more than when you challenged him, rough and biting.

“just concerned, sweetie. especially if what you know brought you here…" his smile curled as he spoke. "…looking like this.”

“that's too bad. you don’t get to play protective anymore. that role expired." your voice came out flat and cold, like you had rehearsed the indifference.

“mmm. but it seems your feelings for me haven’t, kitten.”

“funny. i don’t remember ever admitting I had them.”

“no? then why are your thighs tensing like they remember everything?” 

your breath hitched. not loud, but enough to make you furious with yourself. heat flushed up your throat, mortification and memory colliding in the worst possible way. you hated that he noticed. hated more that he was right. that your body reacted before your mind could catch up.

you didn’t let the silence stretch. couldn’t let it stretch.

"you're in my way."

sylus tilted his head, the smirk on his lips making your blood boil. “and you’re in my thoughts. every day. every night. doesn’t feel fair, does it?”  

“what’s not fair is how your ego somehow survived our breakup.”  you spoke through gritted teeth, still recovering from his last blow.

“you don’t have to say it," he was grinning now—the bastard. "i can feel it.”  

“what, your neediness?”  you practically spit back, the tension between you thick enough to choke on.

“yours, actually. you’re shaking, kitten."

“it’s rage.”  

“mmm. is that what we’re calling want these days?” 

before you could fire off something scathing, sylus wrapped his fingers around your wrist again and this time he pulls. not hard, just enough to close the last of the distance. chest brushing chest, breath mingling in the small space in between your lips.

“you think I don’t know that look in your eyes? that tilt in your hips when you dance near me? you want distance, yet your body keeps inching closer," his voice was low, fever laced into every syllable. "what am I to believe?” 

“i'm working, sylus. this—” you gestured between your bodies, the closeness, the feelings, all of it. “—can’t happen again."

his smirk fades, but not into hurt. into hunger. “then tell me to stop.”

you don't.

his fingers trace the underside of your jaw, measured and daring.

“say it." he murmurs. "say stop.” 

but you don't. you can’t. your lips part, but not for protest. then—

“is there a problem here?” a voice cuts through from behind, snapping the spell. a man steps between you and sylus, eyes flickering between your faces. “doesn’t look like you want to be with him, sweetheart. just say the word.” 

“step back,” sylus says before you can even breathe, his tone icy. possessive. “you’re in her space. that’s the problem.”

the man falters, visibly unsettled by the sharp gleam of red in sylus’ eye. “i’m sure she’d prefer someone who doesn’t drag her around the dance floor.”

sylus smirks at him, deadly calm. “she’s exactly where she wants to be.”

it seems the man recognizes onychinus' leader, because that’s all it takes. the man backs off without another word.

you let the silence settle, pulse still fluttering from both the interruption and everything before it.

“jealousy doesn’t suit you,” you tease, turning your head just enough to draw his eyes back to your mouth.

“neither does watching you pretend you don’t miss me,” he shoots back, matching your quip as he always excelled at doing.

“i don’t.”

he smirks. “liar.”

your voice sharpens. “we’re broken up, sylus. don’t you recall?”  

his gaze doesn’t waver. “i remember everything. your laugh. your skin. the way you used to—”

“don’t,” you cut in, voice like a blade. “you don’t get to say those things anymore.”

he leans in anyway, close enough that you can taste the desire radiating off him.

“then stop looking at me like that.”

“like what?” you hiss.

his mouth curved with mischief and warning. “like you want me to follow you upstairs.” 

you blinked, heart slamming so hard it hurt. and for one breath, you let yourself feel it, all the pain he left behind.

then you swallowed it whole, and drowned in him.

as you both slipped out of sight from the crowded dance floor, sylus tugged you closer, kissing you like he’d been starved. your bodies stumbled up the stairs, hands tangled and desperate, a hunger between you that neither could deny. he pressed you against the wall at the top of the stairs, his lips trailing down your neck, each kiss an act of claiming. you felt his eagerness press against you and your head swirled deliciously.

“i can feel how badly you want me,” you taunt, chest rising as you fight for composure. “want me so bad you’d drop to your knees if I told you to, wouldn’t you?”

"you could make me beg for you. and more." he pressed into you, harder now. his body solid against yours as the air became thick with want. “but we both know you want to be the one on your knees." 

you pull off him with a smirk of your own, opening the closest door and leading him inside. “you think you’re the only one who knows how to play this game?”

once you both stepped into the room, you shove sylus back onto the bed. his handsome face tipped up at you from where he landed, eyes cocky and smug despite being beneath you.

"i’m the one who taught you how to play, sweetie.” 

you lock the door behind you with a click, leaving him on the bed to watch every calculated move you made.

you turn to face him. your steps unhurried, hips swaying like a predator with a plan. his gaze devours you as you reach the center of the room and spin your back to him.

the low hem of your dress dips scandalously, held up only by two delicate straps. you slide one down, then the other. the fabric sinks down your body, every inch a show for the man breathing heavier by the second.

the fabric hits the floor and you step out of it and cross the room. sylus sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread like he's trying not to burst at the sight of you.

you drop to your knees before him, fingers ghosting up his thighs.

you undo his belt like it’s second nature, because it is, but this time there's no soft glances or whispered promises. only tension, sweat, and the sharp edge of something darker.

you shift him out of his underwear and he's already leaking, throbbing for you. you pull him out slow, eyes locked on his like a dare. despite taking him plenty of times before, his huge length still intimidated you. and made your mouth water.

then, with his hard cock still in your hands, you tilt your head back and loll your tongue out with a dirty smile.

“fuck,” he breathes, before leaning forward and spitting directly into your open mouth.

you swirl it around with your tongue, exaggerated and filthy, before letting it drip from your lips straight onto the tip of his cock. you stroke him with it, twisting your wrist just right, watching him twitch and strain in your grasp as you spread the mess down him.

sylus manages a breathless smirk. “has our time apart made you dirtier?” his voice is wrecked. “or have you missed me this much?”

you drag your tongue up his length, lingering on his sensitive vein, then pull back with a wet pop. the action drives him wild, and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning.

your eyes gleam with something wicked. “you’re so much more attractive when you’re moaning for me instead of talking.”

your lips part again, this time to take him in painfully slow. you twirl your tongue around his tip, the taste so familiar it makes your eyes roll back. the mix of fluids slick his cock all the way down to the base, your lips shiny and swollen around him.

then you sink lower and he can’t stop staring. can’t stop twitching in your mouth like he’s about to blow from just the sound of your gag. his hips jerk when the tip hits the back of your throat, and you pull off again with a sinful smirk.

“you always get so twitchy when i barely touch you,” you purr, stroking him with lazy precision. “what happened to that control you're so proud of?”

his jaw tightens at your jab, hands gripping the edge of the bed so hard his knuckles go white. while he did enjoy you challenging him, you were working his last nerve.

you lean in once more, smiling with satisfaction at his reaction. your movement light on his aching cock, suckling and teasing, never committing. your hands move unhurried, your mouth even slower, and his whole body is trembling from restraint.

sylus lets out a low, ruined growl. “keep teasing me and you'll regret it, kitten.”

“is that a threat or a promise?” you whisper, licking along the underside of his shaft. “because it sounds a lot like begging to me.”

his hands tremor like he wants to grab you, but you stay in control. for now.

you now take him with vigor, enough to make him moan, then stop. again. and again. always just a little more, never enough. he's throbbing in your grip, leaking like he could cum from this alone.

“fuck,” he mutters. “you’re gonna drive me insane.”

you pout with faux innocence. “what, this?” you give him a long, slow lick, eyes full of mockery. “close already?”

and then he snaps.

in a blur of motion, sylus grabs you by the hair, pulls you up, and throws you onto the bed, flat on your back.

you barely have time to gasp before he's on you, all passion and vengeance. he slides between your thighs, yanking your panties off like they personally committed your aggravating acts.

“you wanna tease?” he snarls, breath hot against your inner thigh. “then fucking take it.”

his mouth hovers just above your dripping cunt, teasing you now. his turn to play. he breathes against your folds, lips barely brushing, just enough to make you whimper.

“what’s wrong, sweetie?” he taunts, voice thick with revenge and lust. “thought you liked going slow.”

you reach down and twist your fingers in his hair, yanking his face into you with a growl of your own.

“eat. or i will ride your face and make you regret waiting.”

sylus keens at your words, tongue diving in like a man starved. he loved when you got rough with him, turning him on like no other.

you moan right back at the feeling of him, legs already starting to shake. there's no more teasing in his movements, he’s messy, frantic, seemingly obsessed. his mouth is somehow everywhere at once, like he’s trying to drown in your taste.

you writhe under him, losing every ounce of control you once held. and he doesn’t stop. not even when your thighs close around his head. not even when you scream his name.

there’s no finesse, just open mouthed hunger, his tongue and lips on a mission to touch every part of you. then he adds two fingers, slipping in deep and curling them just right, hitting that spot you never could on your own. you gush around them, soaking his hand, and he groans like the mess is a gift.

you clutch the sheets below you, the sensation too much and not enough. every time his nose nudges your clit, every hit of his perfectly angled fingers, your body jolts. the bed creaks below you as he pushes you closer and closer to that high you've been chasing for months. but nothing, nothing, ever touched you like this.

your orgasm starts barreling toward you and right when you're on the cusp of mind numbing pleasure—

he slows down.

right as your toes curl and your thighs tense, he pulls back. you whine, strung out and soaked.

you’re about to beg when you notice the bed is still shaking. not just from you.

sylus is grinding against the mattress. hard and desperate.

you let out a breathless, evil little laugh. “you’re humping the bed? i’m the one getting eaten alive, and you’re the one falling apart?”

you should’ve stopped there. you really should’ve.

but you smirk, lift your hips so you can meet his eyes, and whisper, “what, couldn’t wait your turn?”

his face changes at that, deep and pissed, then he grabs your hips and flips you onto all fours like you weigh nothing.

“should’ve filled your throat with cum to shut that mouth,” he hisses into your ear.

before you can reply, his hands are spreading you open and his mouth is back on you. from behind.

his tongue laps at your entrance, filthy and unrelenting, while his fingers sneak down to bully your clit in ruthless circles. your arms give out at the same time as your legs begin to buckle, but he doesn’t let you fall. one strong arm wraps around your waist whilst the other pleasures you without mercy.

you greedily grind your ass into his face and he groans at the action like he wants to live between your thighs. you clench around his tongue, fluids mixing together, and the mess just spurs you on further. spurs him on further. the building liquids slide down your legs, coating his face and all he wants is more.

you’re about to fall apart all over again when he pulls away in one fluid motion.

your body collapses onto the bed, shaking from the sudden change. you roll onto your back, dazed and desperate.

sylus wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, not even trying to be subtle, and spreads your legs wide. his eyes drink in the sight, as if your glistening pussy was some divine offering.

you pout, fingers drifting toward your clit, desperate to finish what he stole. but sylus grabs your wrist, pins it above your head, and lines himself up with you. his neglected cock dripping with precum as he slides it between your folds.

you bite your lip at how heavy and huge he is. the head alone makes your thighs tremble.

then he leans down, mouth right against your ear.

“you’re not cumming,” he murmurs, slow and cruel, “unless it’s on my cock.”

your breath stutters. it’s been months since you took him, months since your body was trained for that stretch. he was so big, it hurt. you swallow hard, pride burning at your own words.

"just… not too fast,” you say, trying to stay steady. “okay?”

he tilts his head, mocking you with that fake-soft voice. “of course, sweetie. whatever you need.”

he kissed your forehead like the lover he once was.

then slammed his full length inside you.

your mouth opens in a silent scream. he’s thick, obscene, and the sudden stretch makes your vision fade out. you claw at his biceps, nails digging in, but he doesn't care.

“you thought that bratty little attitude was gonna earn you favors?” he grits out, voice strained and dark with desire.

he pulls out almost completely, then drives back in deeper. harder.

“be good and take it.”

your mind is reeling, your body even worse. you're clenching around him like a vice, almost trying to force him to slow down. he doesn't.

in fact, he lets go of the hand pinning yours above your head and grabs your hips instead, tilting them up and fucking into you faster. he’d force you to take it. you always liked it rough.

"just needed some dick to shut you up, hmm?" he stated, each word hitting with the rhythm of his thrusts.

you almost choke. he was drilling so deep it felt like he was aiming for your throat. his hand then slid over your stomach and pressed down, and he grinned above you like the smug devil he is when he felt himself moving inside you.

"shut up—nghh—'n fuck me harder." you manage out, your tone not matching the challenge in your voice even slightly.

your body remembered him now. that stretch, that angle. you were soaking him, walls practically begging for him. his cock slipped in and out like he owned it. because he does.

sylus realizes it too, because he leans in, pushing impossibly deeper before gloating in your face. "this pussy missed me. she’s crying for it."

you try to snap something back, something sharp, anything to bite into his smugness. but it dies on your tongue the second his hips grind into yours. his cock drags deep and slow, just once, and your whole body locks up. the stretch is somehow overwhelming and perfect. like you were made for him.

your fingers scramble over his back, clinging to him for stability, but all you can manage is a strangled, “fuck, sylus—”

his rhythm falters, just for a second, but you feel it. his gaze snaps to yours, suddenly serious. his body stills then, cock twitching inside you. it seemed like he was searching for something in you that he was too scared to name.

he leans in once more, but this time not to hit deeper. to look at you, really look. his breath fanned your lips, your cheeks, your throat.

"you missed me too," he says. no question in it.

you want to lie. bite back with something petty and proud. but your pussy clenches around him like it’s answering for you, loud and shameless.

your chest heaves as you stare up at him. your throat aches from holding back all the things you swore you’d never say.

and still, you whisper it.

“yours.”

sylus goes rigid at your confession.

you feel a shudder pass through his entire body. he clenched his jaw while his hands trembled against your waist, grip tightening. then something breaks. he manhandles your thighs up and wide, body looming over yours.

“say it again.” he demands in between guttural grunts. “say you’re mine.”

you wail at the change in position, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and pleasure twisting in your belly like a storm. “'m yours. fuck—sylus, i’m yours.”

his chest pins your thighs to your torso, folding you nearly in half. the angle makes your head dizzy, an entirely new world of bliss. you’re split open, completely at his mercy, and your cunt pulses around him like it knows it’s where it belongs.

“fucking say it while I ruin you.” his voice cracks, hips pistoning forward again and again. he’s completely unraveling, thrusts messier now, more desperate.

you chant it like a mantra. “yours, yours, yours—”

“look at you,” he grunts, sweat dripping from his jaw onto your chest. “taking me so good now. tight little pussy just needed a reminder.”

his pace is brutal and unrelenting. your thighs shake, pinned wide open, helpless to do anything but feel every inch of him. be filled by him.

his eyes don’t leave yours. there’s hunger there, but you also notice something raw too. that longing feeling you thought only you felt.

sylus dips down, lips brushing yours, and murmurs against your mouth. “you really gonna go back out there like this?”

you blink at him, dazed. “huh?”

“full of me,” he snarls, hitting deep enough to knock the breath from your lungs. “my cum soaking your thighs while you try to finish your mission. think you can keep it in?”

you moan loudly at his filthy words and he grins against your cheek.

“say you want it. say you want me to fill you up.”

you don’t even hesitate.

“yes please! sylus, want it!”

“say it right.” he commands, snapping his hips so hard the bed frame groans. “tell me who you belong to.”

“you! ’m yours—fuck—please cum inside me!”

he loses it.

his grip tightens bruisingly on your hips, dragging you down to meet every savage thrust. the drag of his cock is erratic, his body shuddering above yours.

“gonna fill you up,” he pants, “make you mine all over again—shit!—you’re gonna leak for me, kitten. gonna walk outta here with my cum dripping down your thighs and everyone knowing you let me claim you.”

the possessiveness in his voice sends you spiraling. your pussy clenches tight, fluttering around him like your body’s already begging for it. the tension in your belly coils impossibly tight. every hard, brutal thrust inside you making your vision blur.

“sylus,” you gasp, pitch high and breathless, “close, please—”

“you wanna cum on my cock?” he asked, slamming into you with the full force of his weight. “wanna milk me while I fill this cunt up?”

you nod frantically, tears spilling down your cheeks. “yes, yes! please, wanna cum with you, wanna feel you!”

sylus drops his head to your shoulder, teeth scraping your skin. "go on, then. show me how bad you want me."

and you do.

you shatter with a loud cry, your orgasm hitting like a wave that floods your senses. you clench tight around him in spasms that make your back arch off the bed and your fingers dig into his back to anchor yourself. you sob his name as your pussy pulses around him, your entire body wrung out and shaking.

“that’s it,” he moans deeply, his rhythm stuttering as your walls clamp down. “so tight—”

and he’s right there with you.

with a sharp groan, he drives himself deep to bury every inch inside. his hips jerk and his cock twitches as he spills into you, hot and thick. his voice breaks as he utters your name out like a prayer. one hand squeezes your thigh tight while the other trembles on your waist, trying to hold himself together while he fills you up.

you’re shaking, panting into his shoulder, pulling him close as his warmth spills into you. he doesn’t pull out. not yet. just stays there, breathing ragged against your skin, forehead pressed to yours.

your body trembles with aftershocks, cunt fluttering weakly around his cock, milking every drop from him like your body refuses to let him go.

“fuck,” he whispers, voice almost gentle. “you were made for me.”

you’re still dazed, your brain lagging behind the high. you can feel him dripping out of you already, warm and slick between your thighs.

he leans in, brushing a kiss to your temple, like the lover he is.

“you better squeeze those legs shut when you leave,” he murmurs, cocky smirk creeping back in. “i don’t want anyone seeing what’s mine.”

a/n(2): first time writing sylus, hope i did him justice >_< likes and reblogs r super appreciated, lmk your thoughts on this!!!

@mcdepressed290 here is your tag friend as requested. hope u enjoy!!!

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 1: March 2023

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

....Do not expect particular quick updates on this, because it's a beast of a story. Also: kinda Charles bashing, but not really? You'll see.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

A Bar in Montecarlo: 

Max had come to the bar for a quiet drink, not to get his world flipped upside down. But then he spotted her.

She was standing at the counter, waiting for her drink, all soft confidence and effortless elegance. The kind of woman who didn’t need to try to turn heads—she just did. And Max, never one to let an opportunity pass him by, slid up beside her with his most charming smirk and opened his mouth. 

And because apparently, he had actually listened the last time Lando told him all about the absolutely horrible Pick-Up-Lines that he had tried with middling success…that was what came out of his mouth.

“Excuse me,” he said smoothly, “but do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

She turned, amused—

And Max nearly choked.

Because he knew her.

His brain scrambled for a second before his mouth caught up. “Oh, shit. You’re Charles’ little sister.”

Her entire expression changed. The amusement faded, her jaw tightening. “Wow,” she deadpanned. “That’s one way to ruin a moment.”

Max grimaced. “That’s not what I—”

She picked up her drink and turned fully toward him, raising a brow. “I do have a name, you know.”

He nodded quickly, recovering. “Right. Isabelle.”

“Good job,” she said dryly. “Want a gold star?”

Max huffed out a laugh. “Look, I just wasn’t expecting you. I see a beautiful woman at a bar, and my instinct is to flirt. Then I realize she’s my colleague’s little sister, and I panic.”

Her lips twitched. “And?”

“And… I’m still going to flirt with you,” he admitted, grinning. “But properly this time.”

She tilted her head, intrigued. “Oh?”

Max leaned in slightly. “Can I buy you a drink, Isabelle?”

She pretended to consider. “That depends. Are you going to keep calling me Charles’ little sister?”

He placed a hand over his heart. “I solemnly swear never to utter those words again.”

Her lips curled in the slightest smirk. “In that case, sure. Let’s see if you can impress me, Verstappen.”

Max had never been one to back down from a challenge. And something told him this was a challenge he’d never want to walk away from.

Max flagged down the bartender, ordering another round for both of them. Isabelle took a slow sip of her drink, watching him over the rim of her glass like she was trying to decide if he was worth her time.

He liked that. Liked that she wasn’t falling over herself just because he was Max Verstappen.

“So,” he said, leaning against the bar, “what exactly would impress you?”

She hummed, tapping a finger against her glass. “A conversation that doesn’t involve my brothers.”

Max smirked. “That easy?”

“You’d be surprised how many people fail that test.”

He could imagine. Charles was everywhere in the racing world, and by extension, so was Isabelle. It must be exhausting, always being seen as an extension of someone else.

Max took the challenge seriously. “Alright,” he said, shifting toward her. “Tell me something about you that has nothing to do with your family.”

She studied him for a moment, like she was assessing if he was genuine. Then, after a beat, she said, “I work in architecture.”

Max blinked. “Really?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess I never thought about what you do.”

She smirked. “That’s because you’ve only ever seen me as Charles’ little sister.”

Max winced. “Okay, fair. But I’m interested now.”

“Are you?” She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. “I have heard your name at work before.”

Max frowned. “You have?”

“Oh, yeah,” Isabelle said, taking another sip of her drink. “Apparently, you’ve been house hunting. One of my colleagues nearly had a meltdown over the idea of designing a place for Max Verstappen.”

Max narrowed his eyes. “Wait… which project?”

She bit back a smile. “A penthouse. You toured it a few weeks ago.”

Max suddenly knew exactly which one she was talking about. He had liked the place, but something had held him back from committing.

Now, though?

Now, he was very seriously considering signing the papers just for an excuse to see her again.

He leaned in, watching her reaction closely. “And if I were to, say, buy that penthouse?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Then I’d know you had good taste.”

Max grinned. “That’s it?”

She shrugged. “That, and I’d probably have to endure my colleagues freaking out for at least a week.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, then. Guess I have some decisions to make.”

Isabelle rolled her eyes, but he caught the way her lips twitched like she was fighting a smile.

Yeah. He was definitely buying that penthouse.

Max drummed his fingers against the bar, pretending to think. "Alright, so let’s say I do buy that penthouse. Hypothetically."

Isabelle gave him a knowing look. "Hypothetically."

"Would I get a personal consultation?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "That’s not how it works."

"But if I had, I don’t know, questions about the design, or maybe some concerns about the layout, I’d need someone to talk to, wouldn’t I?"

Isabelle swirled the last of her drink in her glass, watching him with an amused glint in her eyes. "Max, are you trying to say you need my number for professional reasons?"

He grinned, tilting his head. "I mean, what if I need an expert opinion? You are the only architect I know."

She sighed in mock exasperation, but he could tell she was entertained. "I really shouldn’t encourage this."

"But you want to," Max countered, smirking.

Her lips twitched, and after a moment’s pause, she reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. "Fine. Give me yours, I’ll text you."

Max typed in his number so fast that she actually laughed. She typed something in her phone. 

A second later, his phone buzzed with a new message.

Unknown Number: Congratulations on your completely unbiased, definitely not suspicious real estate decision.

Max chuckled. "So, what happens if I text you about things that aren’t penthouse-related?"

Isabelle lifted her glass to her lips and said, before taking the last sip, "Guess we’ll find out."

And just like that, Max Verstappen knew he was completely screwed.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

(Unknown Number): Hey, it’s Max.

(Unknown Number): Verstappen.

(Unknown Number): Just in case you know a lot of Maxes.

Isabelle: I don’t.

Max: Good. Would hate to have competition already.

Isabelle: Already?

Max: What can I say? I like you.

Isabelle: You barely know me.

Max: That’s true. But I’d like to change that.

Isabelle: …That was smooth.

Max: Was it?

Isabelle: Surprisingly, yes.

Max: Noted. I’ll add it to my very short list of smooth moments.

Isabelle: Very short?

Max: Tragically short.

Isabelle: I don’t know if I believe that.

Max: I promise, my sister would confirm it.

Isabelle: You have a sister?

Max: Victoria.

Isabelle: Right, I think I’ve seen her before.

Max: Probably. She’d probably like you, by the way.

Isabelle: Oh?

Max: Yeah. She has a good instinct about people.

Isabelle: And what does your instinct say?

Max: That I really, really want to see you again.

Isabelle: You’re very direct, aren’t you?

Max: Is that a bad thing?

Isabelle: No. Just… unexpected.

Max: Well, I can be subtle too.

Isabelle: Can you?

Max: Definitely. For example, I could subtly ask what you’re doing tomorrow night.

Isabelle: …Very subtle.

Max: Thank you. So?

Isabelle: I might be free.

Max: Good. Then I’ll subtly ask if you’d like to have dinner with me.

Isabelle: Are you always like this?

Max: Only when I really like someone.

Isabelle: …Dinner sounds nice.

Max: Perfect. I’ll send you the details.

Isabelle: Looking forward to it.

Max: Me too.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: I met someone.

Victoria: …Okay?

Max: And I think I’m in love.

Victoria: MAX.

Victoria: You literally just met her??

Max: Yes.

Victoria: And you think you’re in love?

Max: Yes.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Victoria: Max.

Victoria: WHAT.

Victoria: HOW.

Victoria: WHY.

Max: I don’t know, Vic. I just know. I met her tonight and I just…I just know.

Victoria: You’ve known her for one night.

Max: Yes.

Victoria: Max.

Max: Vic.

Victoria: Oh my god, you’re serious.

Max: Very.

Victoria: You’re actually gone for her already.

Max: Completely.

Victoria: …Okay.

Max: Okay?

Victoria: Yeah.

Victoria: I mean, I think you’re insane, but if anyone deserves to fall stupidly, recklessly in love, it’s you.

Max: …Thanks, Vic.

Victoria: You deserve to be loved, Max.

Victoria: For who you are. Not because you’re Max Verstappen, two-time world champion, but just because you’re you.

Max: …

Max: I think she sees me that way.

Victoria: Then hold onto her.

Max: I plan to.

Victoria: Is that why you’re texting me at midnight like a lunatic?

Max: …I may have also just bought that penthouse.

Victoria: MAX.

Victoria: YOU HAVE BEEN UNDECIDED ABOUT THAT PENTHOUSE FOR MONTHS.

Victoria: AND NOW YOU MEET A GIRL AND SUDDENLY YOU’RE BUYING IT???

Max: Her architecture firm is working on it.

Victoria: This is why people say Libras are intense.

Max: That’s astrology nonsense.

Victoria: SAYS THE MAN PLANNING A WHOLE FUTURE AFTER ONE CONVERSATION.

Max: I have a good feeling about it.

Victoria: MAX.

Max: What? You just said I deserve to be loved.

Victoria: YES, BUT I DIDN’T THINK YOU’D LOSE YOUR ENTIRE MIND OVER IT.

Max: Too late.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Victoria: You are actually the most ridiculous person alive.

Victoria: But if she makes you happy… then I’m happy for you.

Max: She does.

Victoria: Then that’s all that matters.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: Emergency. Crisis. Disaster.

Emilie: That’s a lot of words. What happened?

Isabelle: I have a date.

Emilie: And that’s a disaster because…?

Isabelle: Because it’s with Max Verstappen.

Emilie: …

Emilie: I’m going to need a second.

Emilie:

Emilie:

Emilie:

Emilie: Okay, I’m back. WHAT???

Isabelle: We met at a bar. He asked me out. I said yes. And now I don’t know what to wear. Focus. Help.

Emilie: We met at a bar, he asked me out, I said yes—DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF???

Isabelle: EMILIE. FOCUS. OUTFIT.

Emilie: Right. Okay. Where is he taking you?

Isabelle: Some fancy restaurant. Not too fancy, but still expensive.

Emilie: God, of course. Okay. Simple but elegant. A dress that makes it look like you didn’t try too hard, even though you absolutely did.

Isabelle: Black dress?

Emilie: Obviously. And heels. You own some ridiculous ones. Wear those.

Isabelle: You are suspiciously good at this.

Emilie: Because I have taste. Now, more importantly—DO YOUR BROTHERS KNOW??

Isabelle: …

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: No, they do not.

Emilie: WHY NOT???

Isabelle: Because I don’t want to deal with it.

Emilie: You are dating CHARLES LECLERC’S BIGGEST RIVAL. YOU DON’T THINK THAT’S WORTH MENTIONING???

Isabelle: One date does not mean I’m dating him.

Emilie: YET.

Isabelle: I don’t think Charles would care.

Emilie: …That is the saddest sentence I have ever read.

Emilie: You don’t think Charles would care.

Isabelle: No.

Emilie: Are we talking about the same man??? The one who holds grudges against people for bad karting races from 15 years ago??

Isabelle: I am saying that I am basically invisible in my family, and therefore, he will not care.

Emilie: THAT IS SO DEPRESSING.

Isabelle: It’s just reality.

Emilie: No, it’s tragic. And when Charles inevitably does care, I am going to be so smug about it.

Isabelle: He won’t.

Emilie: He will. And when he finds out from Twitter instead of you, I am going to remind you forever that I was right.

Isabelle: Fine. If he does, I will buy you dinner.

Emilie: And?

Isabelle: And I will admit you were right.

Emilie: Good girl. But first, we need to make sure Max Verstappen is absolutely floored when he sees you tonight. Let’s pick out your dress.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: HELP.

Max: I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO WEAR.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Max: I’m serious, Vic. This is important.

Victoria: It’s one date.

Max: Exactly! First impressions matter. What if I wear something stupid?

Victoria: You wear team merch 90% of the time, so that’s a real possibility.

Max: NOT HELPING.

Victoria: Okay, okay. Where are you taking her?

Max: Nice restaurant. Fancy-ish but not too fancy.

Victoria: Alright. Dark jeans, nice shirt, jacket. Clean shoes.

Max: That’s it???

Victoria: Yes, you’re not walking a red carpet, Max.

Max: What if she thinks it’s boring?

Victoria: If she’s going out with you, she probably already knows you’re a little fashion-challenged.

Max: Wow.

Victoria: I’m just saying, if she agreed to a date, she clearly likes you. Just wear something that fits and isn’t Red Bull merch.

Max: I feel like you’re underestimating the stress of this situation.

Victoria: I feel like you’re underestimating the fact that she already said yes.

Max: …Good point.

Victoria: Obviously. Now go find a shirt that isn’t a team polo and try not to overthink it.

Max: No promises.

Victoria: You’re impossible.

Max: And yet, you still love me.

Victoria: Unfortunately. Now go. And don’t text me from the restaurant freaking out.

Max: No guarantees.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: Well????

Isabelle: Well, what?

Emilie: Isabelle. Do not play dumb with me. How did the date go??

Isabelle: …It was really nice.

Emilie: THAT’S ALL YOU’RE GIVING ME?

Emilie: I want DETAILS. Did he show up looking stupidly handsome? Was he nice? Did he make you laugh? Did you kiss him??

Isabelle: Yes, yes, yes, and Yes.

Emilie: YES??

​​Isabelle: I kissed him.

Emilie: !!!!!

Emilie: Details. Now.

Isabelle: It was after our date. He walked me to my door, and I just… kissed him.

Emilie: You just kissed him?? Who are you and what have you done with my overthinking best friend??

Isabelle: Shut up. I didn’t even think about it. I just did it.

Emilie: And???

Isabelle: And then he kissed me back.

Emilie: …That better not be the end of the story.

Isabelle: It was soft. And slow. And he cupped my face like I was something precious.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Emilie: Isabelle, my love. My dearest best friend.

Emilie: You’re done for.

Isabelle: … I know.

Emilie: And how did he look after?

Isabelle: Like he was trying very hard not to kiss me again.

Emilie: Oh, you’re so doomed.

Isabelle: I know.

Emilie: Tell me everything.

Isabelle: He was already at the restaurant when I got there, which was sweet. He pulled out my chair for me. He was nervous, which was insane to me because, you know, he’s Max Verstappen.

Emilie: Boy has driven through Eau Rouge at full speed, but a girl makes him nervous. I love this.

Isabelle: He kept looking at me like I was the most interesting person in the world. Like he actually wanted to hear everything I had to say.

Emilie: I love him already.

Isabelle: You love him?? Emilie, I might actually be in trouble here.

Emilie: Uh oh.

Isabelle: …He sent me flowers.

Emilie: WHAT.

Emilie: When???

Isabelle: They just got delivered.

Emilie: EXCUSE ME.

Emilie: You go on ONE date with Max Verstappen and wake up to FLOWERS???

Isabelle: Apparently.

Emilie: What kind?

Isabelle: Peonies.

Emilie: Belle.

Emilie: He is so in love with you.

Isabelle: It was one date.

Emilie: AND???

Emilie: The man sent you flowers the morning after like he’s starring in a romance novel.

Isabelle: Maybe he just does that?

Emilie: Girl. Be serious.

Emilie: Did he say anything with them?

Isabelle: There was a note.

Emilie: AND???

Isabelle: It just says ‘Last night was perfect. Can’t wait to see you again. – Max’

Emilie: I’M GONNA SCREAM.

Emilie: Max Verstappen is courting you.

Isabelle: Courting is a strong word.

Emilie: He sent you flowers. He is so gone for you.

Isabelle: …Maybe.

Emilie: So… second date?

Isabelle: Saturday.

Emilie: GIRL.

Isabelle: I know.

***

Isabelle Leclerc’s Instagram Post

Comments:

@/emilie_abadie: 👀👀👀

@/F1GossipQueen: That’s a very ‘I have a thoughtful boyfriend’ kind of flower arrangement.

↳@/paddockprincessx: Soft launch era????

@/leclercsiblingtea: If Charles doesn’t know who sent these, I need his live reaction immediately.

↳@/monacogossip: Why do I feel like this is someone wildly unexpected?

↳@/redbullsimpclub: Place your bets now, I’m saying it’s a paddock guy.

↳@/f1shenanigans: If this is from an F1 driver, I am losing my mind.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

Isabelle: Thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful.

Isabelle: And for yesterday. I had a really nice time.

Max: I’m glad you liked them. 

Max: What’s your favorite flower? For next time.

Isabelle: Snowdrops.

Max: Snowdrops?

Isabelle: Yes?

Max: I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone whose favorite flower is snowdrops.

Isabelle: That’s a shame. They’re beautiful. And they bloom in the cold, when nothing else does.

Max : Like you, then.

Isabelle: …Are you trying to be charming, Max Verstappen?

Max: Is it working?

Isabelle: Maybe.

Max: Good.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Sophie Kumpen

Sophie: So… Victoria told me something interesting.

Max: She needs a new hobby.

Sophie: Max.

Max: What?

Sophie: Are you in love?

Max: …Maybe.

Sophie: After one conversation?

Max: No! After two conversations.

Sophie: Oh, well, that’s much more reasonable.

Max: Mom.

Sophie: Max.

Max: Look, I just know that it’s different. I’ve never felt like this before.

Sophie: That’s a big thing to say.

Max: I know. But I can’t explain it. It just makes sense.

Sophie: So how did the date go?

Max: …It was perfect.

Sophie: Now we’re getting somewhere.

Max: She’s funny, she’s smart, she actually listens when I talk about racing—like, really listens. And she doesn’t care about the other stuff. The money, the fame. None of it. She just likes me.

Sophie: That’s important.

Max: I know.

Sophie: So when do I get to meet her?

Max: When she doesn’t think I’m a crazy person for how fast I’m falling for her.

Sophie: I hate to break it to you, Max, but you bought a penthouse because her firm is working on it.

Max: …

Sophie: That’s what I thought.

Max: It’s a very nice penthouse.

Sophie: Of course it is.

Max: So you’re not going to say I’m insane?

Sophie: Oh, you are insane. But you’re also my son. And if this makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.

Max: Thanks, Mom.

Sophie: Now tell me, do I need to start planning a wedding?

Max: Goodbye.

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, Lorenzo and Pascale) 

Arthur: Dinner at Maman’s, Saturday, usual time?

Charles: Yeah, I’ll be there.

Lorenzo: Me too.

Isabelle: I can’t make it, I’m busy.

Arthur: What’s Maman making?

Charles: Probably something with pasta.

Lorenzo: Didn’t she say something about lamb last time?

Arthur: Oh yeah, I think so.

Isabelle: Have fun!

Charles: See you all Saturday.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: Hey, if I were to ask for date advice, purely hypothetically…

Victoria: Oh my God.

Max: What?

Victoria: You NEVER ask for advice. This must be serious.

Max: It’s not that serious.

Victoria: You literally bought an apartment because of this girl.

Max: …That’s unrelated.

Victoria: Sure it is.

Max: So… hypothetically… if I needed some guidance, what would you suggest?

Victoria: Are you actually asking for advice, or are you just hoping I’ll make it easier for you by giving you a list of things not to do?

Max: ...

Victoria: That’s what I thought. Give me a second.

Victoria: Okay, here’s your DO NOT list:

Do not talk about tire degradation.

Do not mention iRacing, no matter how good your last stint was.

Do not wear a Red Bull hoodie.

Do not check F1 news during the date.

Do not turn the date into a competition.

Do not text me mid-date if you panic. Figure it out.

Do not propose.

Max: …That last one was unnecessary.

Victoria: I’m just covering all bases.

Max: I wasn’t going to propose.

Victoria: Good. Then this should be easy for you.

Max: The Red Bull hoodie rule feels unfair.

Victoria: Max.

Max: Fine. No Red Bull hoodie.

Victoria: Thank you.

Max: …Can I at least wear the cap?

Victoria: Max.

Max: Alright, alright. No cap.

Victoria: Proud of you. Now, go be normal.

Max: No promises.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

Max: Hypothetically. If you were taking someone on a second date. What would you do?

GP: …Why are you asking me?

Max: Because you’re married!

GP: And?

Max: That means you’ve successfully dated someone.

GP: That does not make me a dating expert.

GP: Also, since when do you ask me for relationship advice?

GP: Who is she?

Max: …

GP: Max.

Max:

GP: MAX.

GP: WHO IS IT.

Max: Isabelle.

GP: Isabelle who?

Max: …Leclerc.

GP:

GP: MAX.

GP: CHARLES LECLERC’S SISTER?!?!?!?!?

Max: Yeah, she doesn’t really like being called that.

GP: MAX.

GP: DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?

Max: Not particularly.

GP: HOW DID THIS HAPPEN.

Max: I met her.

GP: OBVIOUSLY.

GP: Where?! When?! How long has this been going on?!

Max:  A few days.

GP: And Charles doesn’t know???

Max: I don’t think he notices much about her.

GP: Okay, that’s a whole other issue, but back to you.

GP: Do you have any self-preservation instincts?

Max: She’s nice. I like her.

GP: THAT IS NOT THE POINT.

GP: Do you realize the incident this could cause?

Max: If I wanted overreactions, I’d have texted Victoria.

GP: I AM REACTING APPROPRIATELY.

GP: What does Victoria think?

Max: She said, "You deserve to be loved."

GP: …Well, that’s suspiciously sentimental.

GP: But also, Charles is still going to kill you.

Max: You’re being dramatic.

GP: AM I?

Max: Are you helping or not?

GP: I AM TOO BUSY PROCESSING YOUR TERRIBLE LIFE CHOICES.

GP: Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Let’s focus.

GP: You need a second date idea.

GP: That does not result in Charles Leclerc murdering you.

Max: I think you’re overestimating how much he pays attention to her.

GP: That’s between them. I am concerned for you.

Max: You’re being dramatic again.

GP: No, I’m being realistic.

Max: …I’ll deal with that when it happens.

GP: Unbelievable.

GP: Alright. Date ideas.

GP: What did you do for the first one?

Max: Dinner. Talked a lot.

GP: What does she like?

Max: Horses.

GP: Horses.

GP: You’re dating someone who likes horses.

Max: Yes?

GP: I feel like that’s relevant information I should’ve had sooner.

GP: Have you ever been near a horse, Max?

Max: Not really.

GP: Okay, no horse-related dates yet. You will get yourself killed trying to impress her.

Max: She’d find that funny.

GP: I wouldn’t.

GP: Let’s keep it simple. Somewhere quiet. Private. Where you can talk.

Max: I was thinking that too.

GP: What about a picnic?

Max: A picnic.

GP: Yeah. You get some good food, go somewhere nice, and just relax. No stress.

Max: Where am I supposed to find a picnic spot?

GP: You have a balcony, Max.

GP: You literally have a balcony with a view.

GP: Just set something up there.

Max: …That’s actually not a bad idea.

GP: Wow. Praise from the great Max Verstappen. I’m honored.

Max: Don’t get used to it.

GP: Okay, what kind of food does she like?

Max: She ordered pasta on our first date.

GP: That’s a start. You could order from the same place.

Max: Or I could cook.

GP: You could what?

Max: I can cook, GP.

GP: Since when?

Max: Since I lived alone?

GP: Okay, sure. But can you cook something that won’t poison her?

Max: Wow. Faith in me is at an all-time low.

GP: Just making sure she survives the night.

Max: I’ll make pasta. It’s simple.

GP: Fine. But don’t experiment. Stick to what you know.

Max: What do you think I’m going to do? Try molecular gastronomy?

GP: I wouldn’t put it past you.

GP: Okay, what else… You need drinks. Dessert.

Max: She likes red wine.

GP: Get a good wine, then. And dessert?

Max: She mentioned liking raspberries once.

GP: So get her something with raspberries.

Max: Got it.

GP: And what about ambiance?

Max: …

GP: Max.

Max: What?

GP: Do you even own candles?

Max: …Victoria gave me some once.

GP: Use them.

GP: And put some effort into setting the table.

GP: You know, for someone who acts like they don’t care about romance, you’re actually putting effort into this.

Max: …She’s worth the effort.

GP:

GP: Damn.

GP: Okay.

GP: You have to survive Charles finding out.

Max: I told you. I’ll handle it.

GP: Yeah, yeah. Just keep me updated.

Max: Sure.

GP: And if you need actual advice, ask Victoria.

Max: I did ask Victoria. She just sent me a list of things not to do.

GP: What was on the list?

Max: "Don’t talk about tire degradation. Don’t mention iRacing. Don’t wear a Red Bull hoodie."

GP: Solid advice.

Max: She also said, "Act normal."

GP: That one might be harder for you.

Max: Wow.

GP: Just being honest.

GP: So, do you have everything planned?

Max: Yeah. I think so.

GP: Good. Now all you have to do is not mess it up.

Max: Thanks for the vote of confidence.

GP: Any time.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: Soooooo... how was the date?

Isabelle: Good.

Emilie: …That’s it? "Good"? You had dinner with Max Verstappen, a man who has clearly lost his mind over you, and all you have to say is "good"???

Isabelle: Fine. Great. Amazing.

Isabelle: Happy?

Emilie: Better. But I’m gonna need DETAILS.

Isabelle: We had dinner, talked a lot, and then I stayed over.

Emilie:

Emilie: EXCUSE ME???

Emilie: YOU STAYED OVER????

Isabelle: Yes.

Emilie: As in "I fell asleep on the couch watching a movie and went home in the morning" stayed over, or "I am now intimately familiar with Max Verstappen's bedsheets" stayed over???

Isabelle: …

Emilie: ISABELLE.

Isabelle: Nothing happened. 

Emilie: Oh my god.

Emilie: OH MY GOD.

Isabelle: I swear, nothing happened. It just got late and…

Emilie: This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Isabelle: I’m so glad MY love life is giving you entertainment.

Emilie: You don’t understand. I’ve been waiting for you to have an actual romance for YEARS. YEARS, ISABELLE.

Isabelle: You make it sound like I was living in a cave.

Emilie: Emotionally? Maybe a little.

Isabelle: Rude.

Emilie: True.

Emilie: But seriously. How do you feel?

Isabelle: …I don’t know. It’s weird.

Isabelle: He likes me. Like, really likes me. And I’m not used to that.

Emilie: Then get used to it, babe. Because that man? He’s already gone for you.

Isabelle: You think so?

Emilie: I KNOW so.

Emilie: Now tell me: does he have nice bedsheets, or do I need to stage an intervention?

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

GP: Well???

Max: Well, what?

GP: Don’t play dumb. How did it go?

Max: …

GP: MAX.

Max: It went well.

GP: That’s it? That’s all I get after coaching you through this?

Max: What do you want me to say?

GP: I want details. Did she like the food? Did you talk about tire degradation anyway? Did she laugh about your terrible jokes?

Max: She liked the food. No, I did not mention tire degradation. Rude.

GP: Growth. I’m proud of you.

Max: Thanks.

Max: The cats love her.

GP: …THE CATS?! MAX. That is NOT the update I was looking for.

Max: No, but it’s important. They don’t just like people.

GP: I was expecting romance, maybe a ‘we stayed up talking all night’ or ‘she laughed at all my jokes’—and you’re giving me ‘the cats love her’??!

Max: It means a lot! Jimmy and Sassy were literally fighting for her attention. She was just sitting on the couch, and they both climbed into her lap like she was their owner.

GP: …Okay, I’ll admit, that’s kind of a big deal. You’re in love, aren’t you?

Max: I mean… yeah.

GP: I knew it. The cats knew it. Everyone knew it. Charles is gonna lose his mind.

Max: That’s a problem for future Max.

***