#before that. and they have such complimentary designs????

[peapod20001]

Hi hello. Why am I so good at making complimentary character designs???

[oceantornadoo]

ch3 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: reader has an anxiety attack. price is a traditional possessive mafia man with strong opinions. comments about body image and eating habits but not from reader, her family just sucks. drunk shenanigans occur.

masterlist | next

-

The week before the wedding flies by. Simon tells you he’s already contacted a planner, which is a phone call you can’t imagine him making. Everything left to do only concerns you personally. Dress fittings, shoe shopping, ring sizing. No one expects you to want to say over decorations or location. No one asks your opinion on bridesmaid dresses or table centerpieces. The fantasy of your wedding, a princess fairytale, is shoved to the back corner of your mind, next to hope for a normal family and a love marriage. 

London has better options than Manchester, so you’re flown out on Tuesday for final fittings and a makeup run-through. Unfortunately, your aunt meets you there. She was your father’s older sister, an absolute hag who tormented your mother. Aunt Riley, a title she demands. You aren’t given the honor of addressing her by her first name. That’s not for children out of wedlock.

“I look like a piece of cake. A fluffy, tulle-shaped piece of cake.”

It turns out that Aunt Riley is the wedding planner. She’s already picked your dress, without your consent. It’s monstrous, with layers and layers of fabric at the skirt and a too-tight corset at the top. Long lace sleeves, like from an old lady’s doilies, squeeze the life out of your arms. It’s at least a size too small everywhere. Your lungs barely have room to expand. Aunt Riley states that it’s all the rage with modern brides, and you think someone must have made this as a joke. It’s a sorry imitation of an actual wedding dress, not something designed for use.

“Well, let’s hope it sweetens up Mr. Price. Heaven knows your backtalk won’t.” She huffs out, circling the platform you stand on like a shark sniffing blood in the water. “Let’s take in the waist a quarter inch. Longer sleeves, hide more of her shoulders. Can’t have the families thinking she’s a bastard and a harlot.” She orders the tailor, who scurries out of sight with her notes. You sigh, inwardly, since you can’t actually breathe right now. At least there’s a room at the Ritz Carlton waiting for you after this. The no-expenses-spared part of the wedding has a singular benefit - a jacuzzi you could get swallowed in. You only saw it in passing once you landed, but it’s been calling your name like a siren.

“And you must remember not to frown at him, it gives you lines. Are you listening?” Her voice goes up an octave, shaking you out of your thoughts. “Sorry, what?” Aunt Riley rolls her eyes, downing the complimentary glass of champagne the tailor handed her before approaching you. “I was telling you how to please your husband. You can start by wiping the frown off your face. This is a very important alliance. Do not ruin it for your brother.” Your brother. The one person in the world you’d put up with Aunt Riley for. He’s sacrificed so much for a Made life, even the freedom to love freely, so you can’t dishonor him by ruining this wedding. Your stomach grows heavy, and whether it’s the corset or her words, dread coils in your belly. You straighten your shoulders, then nod at her advice that you will not be taking. John deserves a cordial marriage, nothing more. You will not be hiding your frowns for him. 

Luckily, the tailor frees you from your prison wedding gown before you faint. Aunt Riley delivers you to the hotel with a snail face mask in one hand and instructions for a seven-day juice cleanse in another. Your bodyguards, silent men assigned by your brother, help you out of the car and then station themselves outside of the hotel. “Do this every night, you must rid yourself of those eyebags by Saturday. Start the cleanse tonight, hopefully, it’ll get you to fit in the dress. I’ll be here at 8 am sharp tomorrow for ring sizing. Child, are you listening?” You nod numbly, snatching the products in her hands before dashing to the lobby and into the elevator. “And practice smiling!” Her words are drowned out by the rushing of blood in your ears.

The elevator operator knows your floor number, a fact you’d find creepy if you weren’t trying to stop an anxiety attack. Ring sizing. The dress fitting was a laugh but this is…real. A ring is a collar around your throat, it’s your name in ink on the dotted line. The reality is sinking in - John Price will be your husband. You open your door, body on auto, dumping your aunt’s products in the trash before entering the bathroom. The thought of a bath is laughable, not when you think you could drown. A look in the mirror reflects a frazzled woman in the mirror, with eyebags and discoloration and acne scars, and is that a pimple? You are not the type of woman to be John Price’s wife. You are a bastard and he cemented that fact and now you’re marrying him. You’re betraying your mother when you think about it. He and his father got you sent away and you’re here ring sizing. The logical part of your brain argues that he was sixteen, that your father acted of his own accord, but you aren’t listening to logic right now.

The bathroom walls start closing in, but you’re faster. Running like your ass is on fire out of your room, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. You’re on the second top-most floor but it doesn’t matter, anything to get you out. Time flies in a blur, your vision only clearing once you reach the lobby. Instead of walking out the front, where your brother’s men are, you find a side door, escaping into a street alley. Outside. Fresh air. Now.

The sun’s set. You forgot your gun in the safe. Ditched your bodyguards. Nothing matters as you jog down a cracked London sidewalk, not stopping until you find a park. If you can call it that. It’s a strip of green grass, tucked between two buildings like someone forgot about it. You find the lone bench, tucked behind a tree, and sit, lungs heaving with effort.

You could leave, right? Abandon the contract, hightail it out of London. Go back to your mother…who will just shake her head and tell you you should have expected nothing less from the mafia families. She’ll let you stay, of course, but Simon’s still got his men following her and you would be right back where you started.

You could find a city. One without mafia, without men who think they’re gods playing fate. Get a job, a fake name. Except…how could you fake certificates without your connections? Where is the mafia not? It seems the tendrils of your captors reach across the whole British island, choking out any who disobey.

Maybe John would let you out. If you begged nicely, on your knees. He’d smirk and say he’s won the whole game, this back-and-forth that’s played out for years. Except he wouldn’t let you, not really. You’re not stupid enough to ignore the political factors involved, the whispers of the Shepherd family encroaching on his territory. He needs your brother's weapons and he won’t give them up just because you ask.

There are no options. You’re trapped, a mouse in a well-laid trap. Your breathing comes out fast and stunted, lungs rasping with overuse. You try to put your head between your legs, arms on your head like Simon taught you. Five things you can see, four things you can feel, three things you can hear…Except you can’t see anything. Tears glazing over your vision and this is the end, it has to be-

“Nice night.” A man is next to you on your bench. You didn’t even notice, too caught up in your thoughts. It’s enough of a distraction to pull you out of your mental spiral, breath still coming out too short. You train your eyes on the ground in front of you, afraid if you turn to the man next to you, you might keel over from anxiety. “Huh?” Very witty, idiot.

“Said it’s a nice night. North Star’s out, look.” You shake your head, lacing your fingers behind your head to keep your gaze down. The alternative is too frightening to consider. There’s no way he’s here, this thorn in your side. “Pick your head up and find it, sweetheart.” Even though your brain fog, you can’t shake off irritation at his demanding tone. You pick your head up, searching the sky until you find a star brighter than the rest, blinking at you like an old friend.

“Good girl. Now look, squirrel’s got ‘imself in a tight spot.” You drop your gaze and sure enough, a squirrel is fighting with a takeaway bag at the edge of the park. It’s silent for a bit, the sound of a paper bag ripping echoes through the air as you watch two foes battle. John doesn’t say a word, content to watch you squirm with the fact that he’s talked you off the ledge. You finally drop your hands from the back of your head, setting them in your lap like a prim lady and not an anxious mess. Your thumbs twiddle, itching to pick at your skin, but you can’t because there’s ring sizing tomorrow. Aunt Riley will surely notice. There’s ring sizing tomorrow…

“This has got t’ be the only spot of green in London.” You snort. He’s not wrong. “How’d you find me?” You whisper. He hands you a handkerchief, embroidered JP in dark blue letters, and you dab at the tears in your eyes. “Got men watchin’ yer door, elevator an’ the lobby. Don’t trust y’r brother’s men. Knew the second ya left without anythin’ on ya. Bloody stupid, if y’ ask me.” Of course, he’s correcting your anxiety attack etiquette. Typical John Price.

“Wasn’t thinking about my weapon, to be honest. I’m surprised you came here yourself since you’ve got all these men watching me. Certainly one of them wanted to visit this lovely park.” You finally chance a look at him and instantly regret it. Starlight is rare in London proper but it somehow frames his face perfectly. Even the streetlamps cater to him, highlighting the cut of his beard and the blue of his eyes. You hand him the used handkerchief and he grabs it lightly, callused fingers brushing yours before pulling away. It’s the first time you’ve ever touched, a fact you’re hyper-aware of.

“Someone tells me my wife can’t breathe, ‘m not sendin’ my men to take care of it.” He tucks the handkerchief into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. “Not your wife yet.” He clucks his tongue. “Yet.” Well, you can’t argue with that. “Thanks for checking on me, I guess.” It almost physically pains you to say, especially once he grins and turns his head in your direction. “A thank you? Y’ sure yer feelin’ okay?” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest like this is a casual conversation. “I was trying to be polite. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten how to insult you.” A corner of his mouth ticks up, almost a smile. He puts his hands on his knees and rises like an old man and not someone nine years your senior.

“It won’t be so bad, I promise.” He holds out a hand for you to take and you do, immediately dropping it and stepping away once you’re up. “What won’t be?” You ask like you don’t know. He gestures between the two of you like it’s a given. “This. The wedding. Marriage. ‘M not yer new jailer, sweetheart, I promise.” In a moment of vulnerability, you swallow and turn away, trying to find the North Star again. The clouds hide it, light pollution preventing you from your search. “You promise?” You whisper, almost to yourself. 

“I do.” He says it with the same conviction you imagine he’ll use at the ceremony. A slight pressure touches your shoulder, the ghost of a reassuring squeeze, and you turn away from the sky, eyes focused on his suit jacket. “Let’s get you back. ‘S nippy out here.” You nod mutely, and that’s that.

-

Friday is your hen-do with your Riley cousins, getting drunk at a Price-owned club called Midnights. They’re a bit catty but you can’t blame them for the environment they grew up in. You’re given a mission of getting absolutely smashed, enough to forget about your impending wedding. Drinks after drinks are put into your hand, and you’re pretty sure every type of clear liquor is now in your belly. The music has seeped into your pores, veins thumping with your last night of freedom. Like you ever had any at all.

“Are you excited for tomorrow night?” A distant third cousin whisper-shouts into your ear, waggling her brows at the insinuation. You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your fifth martini before answering. “Not really.” She groans, tugging her sister into the conversation. “Come on, I heard he’s great in bed.” Her sister nods with blown pupils, almost spilling her drink on your white dress. “He fucks like an animal. My friend Marie fucked him and,” she hiccups, almost losing her train of thought. “She said he made her come like, five times. He never fucks the same woman twice though. Wonder howitllbewithyou…” She slurs the last sentence, trailing off until she perks back up at the DJ’s change in song. “This is my song, we have to dance!” She drops her drink to tug you onto the dancefloor and you go laughing, thoughts of John Price drifting away as you dance like no one’s watching.

Mafia girls get a bad rep. Your cousins are called innocent or shallow, but they’re the best company you’ve had in years. You soak up all the estrogen in the room, knowing you might never have this kind of night again. It’s exhilarating, to have fun while knowing you’re in a place where you can’t get hurt. At least five Riley bodyguards surround the dance floor and no annoying brother is telling you what to do. You even slipped Aunt Riley, telling her you were doing a spa night at the hotel. If this is what being Mrs. Price is like, it might be worth it.

“Come on, bathroom break!” You swim in a sea of pink bridesmaid party dresses, only on solid footing once you’re in the bathroom. There’s no line, thankfully, but a group of three girls are writing on each other in the corner with a…Sharpie?

“Temporary tattoos! Do you want one?” They offer with beaming smiles - the camaraderie of drunk girlhood. Before you can open your mouth, your cousin snatches the marker and turns you to face the mirror. “No peeking.” The back of your dress is low, almost to your ass, something a Made Man would never approve of. Good thing none of them were invited. Sweaty hands hold you in place as the marker scratches over the skin of your back. She finishes by smacking her lips like she’s eaten a good meal. “Ok, go look.” You turn in the mirror and blink once, twice. You might be drunk but not that drunk, right? Because there’s no way she’s drawn you a tramp stamp in the shape of a heart with the initials JP written in loopy handwriting. It reminds you of a certain handkerchief and you shut that thought down before it settles in.

“Wanker!” You squeal. She throws the marker back to the girls before making a run for her life with you hot on her heels. You’re grinning the whole time.

-

John does not have a stag party. He was planning on taking the night for himself, leaving Gaz in charge of overseeing the dozens of clubs he owns and watching for trouble. He’s just sat down with a bottle of scotch, aged ten years, he’s been aching to try when his phone rings.

“Price.” His voice comes out gruff, probably due to lack of sleep. Since the night he found you on that bench, he hasn’t gotten more than a few hours of sleep. Can’t even take a midafternoon kip. Your frightened face haunts his dreams, the knowledge that you had an anxiety attack because you’re marrying him. He didn’t realize how much you hated him. He hopes it’s only dislike, not fear. If you’re scared of him, there’s not much evidence in his favor. He’s got a list of bodies that could fill a village, and there’s blood in the cracks of his palms. Not exactly husband material.

“Sir, we’ve got an…issue.” Gaz doesn’t continue, which is one of Price’s biggest pet peeves. “Spit it out, Garrick.” Gaz sighs on the other end. “Your fiancee is here at Midnights, doin’ her hen do. Bunch of Riley girls swarmin’ the place. They’ve got guards, but I thought you ought t’ know.” Fuck. Midnights is Price’s biggest club, the easiest to get lost in with its three floors and dark hallways. Because of the layout, it’s definitely on the dirtier side of his business. It’s where he takes clients he doesn’t trust. It is not the place for his fiancee. Wife in twenty-four hours.

He abandons the unopened scotch with a sigh, grabs his coat, and calls his driver. It’s one of Nikolai’s men, renowned for their discreet nature and speedy driving. Luckily, he’s staying at a flat near the church, so he’s only a few minutes away from the club.

“Good evening, sir.” John nods his head in acknowledgment, then dials up a contact on his phone he’d rather not talk to. “You didn’t think t’ tell me she was out?” His tone is firm while Ghost murmurs to someone on the other end. Probably Soap if John had to put money on it. The man sounds a bit out of breath. “Whatdya mean she’s out? Ain’t she doin’ her hen do at the hotel?” Fuck, you didn’t even tell your brother. At least you took guards with you. “She’s at one of my clubs with ‘er cousins. She’ll be safe but Jesus Ghost, ya need t’ be on this. Be glad I’m ‘er keeper now.” Simon swears under his breath. “Her aunt’s s’posed t’ be watchin’, guess they gave her the slip. She’s smart, not gonna run. Check in an’ let me know.” Like John’s going to take orders from a man who can’t even keep an eye on his sister. Someone needs to lay down the law.

He’s at the club in minutes, greeting his bouncer before going in. Gaz meets him at the front, guiding him to the second level so they can look over the crowded dance floor. Sure enough, John spots a few bodyguards at every corner, suited men who are firmly not dancing. It takes a second, but the white outfit you’re wearing makes it easier to spot you. You’re surrounded by girls in pink, presumably your cousins. Before Gaz can comment, he heads down the stairs, pushing his way through the crowd. Even on the verge of blacking out, people recognize who he is, stepping back to make a clear path to you.

“The fuck are you doin’ here?” It’s not the smoothest delivery he’s ever had, but the image of you is pissing him off. Smudged lipstick that he’d rather not think about and sweat dripping obscenely into the cleavage of your dress. It’s white with a dip in the front, giving him a generous view of tits that are about to be legally his. You’re so drunk that it takes you a second to recognize him, a fact that irritates him even further.

“Dancing! Ever heard of it?” You smile and that’s how he knows you’re wasted because you’ve never smiled at him like that. All teeth like you’re genuinely greeting him. Fuck it. He grabs you by the waist and you squeal. Unexpectedly, you’re docile in his arms, following him willingly as he pulls you off the dancefloor and into a quieter section. When he removes his hand, which ended up on the small of your back, it’s…black? A closer look reveals that it’s marker ink.

“The fuck’s on y’r back?” You gasp, then turn so he can see. A surge of blood goes straight to his cock, too fast for him to remember this is you, the Riley brat. There’s a heart with his initials above your ass. It’s a little smudged but the insinuation is clear. It’s something he’ll see tomorrow if you’re in his bed. Which he’s not even sure he wants. He thinks.

“My cousin did it, not me I swear. I would not have drawn that, trust me.” You gush, turning back around. You overshoot and almost stumble, but he reaches out just in time with a steadying hand on your waist. You frown, then shrug.

“Ya didn’t tell me where ya were goin’ and you slipped your aunt. That’s not,” you cut him off by swaying your hips, clearly more into the music than his voice. His grip tightens as he gets a better feel of the fat on your waist, a sensation he didn’t know he needed. “That’s not acceptable. Don’t do it again.” You roll your eyes, then pull back out of his grip. There’s a black smudge on your dress now, but you don’t notice. “Yessir.” You even mock salute, smirking. “You gonna end my last night of freedom? Put me in timeout? Thought you weren’t my new jailer, John.” You draw out the syllables of his name to show your irritation. Your sentence references the promise he made, the one he’s already regretting.

He doesn’t even know what he wants by coming here. He’s a Made Man, and can't have his wife running around freely. And he needed to know you’re safe, sure, but then what? This is his club, there are no worries of any enemies. He’s vetted every manager and knows every bouncer and bartender. You should have told him, that’s true, but he’s not going to drag you out and make a scene. You’re owed a last night of freedom. So why does he want to stay and get a drink, watch your hips sway on the dancefloor without a care in the world? It must be something in the air, some drug residue that’s got into his system.

“Just- tell me next time. And from now on, I’ll be assignin’ y’r guards. Y’r goin’ t’ be my wife, need t’ be under my protection.” You snort, then sip your drink. “Sure. Can’t wait to be Mrs. Price as of tomorrow. You done throwing a hissy fit?” In a moment of teenage retaliation, he takes your drink and throws it out in a nearby trash can. An angered gasp escapes you.

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart. Try not to look too hungover.”

-

When you wake up the next morning, it’s to a pounding headache and a stern Aunt Riley. 

“Cheer up, you insolent child. It’s your wedding day!”

You groan and shut your eyes. This has to be a nightmare.

-

did reader and john just have a moment??? or two???? wedding is next :)

-

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[justatypicalwizard]

Silk dance | Jayce

Aracne Jayce x Zaun seamstress reader

Jayce and reader have history before the Arcane plot. This story follows the second season of Arcane but loosely.

A complimentary piece to my previous story Up and Under. I was asked whether I would make a part two to it. I will rather not but I got the idea that there may be a little bit more to unpack amidst the pages of the story.

,,So, how’s it going with the girl?” Rhythmic buzzing of energy filled the air in the laboratory with a lulling symphony played by tiny machines. In the near silence Jayce Talis scribbling in his notebook posed as the only off-key element as he switched between the messy pages and a cogwheel on his workstation. Sky’s voice ruptured the melody of focus.

Jayce looked up, his eyes wide and lips slightly agape, as if the woman in the room spoke another language, one he didn’t quite understand. Sky was not looking at him, rather wiping off an oily stain from the counter. Her movement was steady, up and down, up and down, like she calculated every step she took in life.

,,I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Of course Jayce knew what she meant. At times when he was alone the man beat himself over the fact that you were near him so often. He was aware how some might view this vicinity. On the other hand, he’s a grown man, he may do as he wishes and it’s only the shortsightedness of others that makes them full of prejudice. It’s not like every high-ranked man has to have an affair with a Zaunite woman working for him.

“She’s here often.” Up and down, up and down. The counter was already clean.

“You’re here often too.”

“I work here.”

“She’s also working.”

“How so?”

“I hired her. She’s a seamstress and a designer.”

“How many fittings does one need?”

“She’s somewhat of a visioner too, like me. You should never rush your work, Sky.”

“And because of that there is a need for nearly daily meetings?”

“Sky, are you suggesting something?” Jayce turned his full body towards the woman. She finally left the counter alone, dropping the cleaning cloth on its polished surface.

“I’m sorry sir, it was very inappropriate of me.” Her shoulders slouched and she was avoiding his gaze like fire. “I’m just worried. it’s either people whispering and spreading gossip or you going to the undercity. It’s dangerous.”

“If inventors cared about whispering and gossip, there would be no progress in the world.” Jayce turned back to the cogwheel, picking it up and spinning it around in his fingers, trying to convince himself that the whole conversation was about progress and not -

Sky whispered something in the lines of that’s not what I meant but both of them decided to let the topic evaporate. A moment of silence spread between them, pushing the two even further away. If Jayce wouldn’t be so hard in his head he might have felt Sky’s gaze on his back, her pleading, longing look. Yet, he didn’t, because that’s simply who Jayce Talis was - a master in avoiding what he didn’t want to face.

“I’ll take my leave.” Sky’s voice once again rifled through the steady silence that rose to discomfort. The energy buzzing in the air felt like tension. Jayce just wanted this to end, to get back into a good mood before -

“Is anyone here?” A new, third voice entered tonight's opera.

Bad timing sweetheart. Jayce thought to himself and froze upon realising how caringly he just called you in his head. Due to that he missed the bite that Sky put on her own, tightly knit, lips.

The man turned around finally, taking in the whole of the scene. It was a true comedy-drama. Sky’s face was a mixture of disbelief and irritation while your eyes were filled with sparkles, clutching the sewing supplies and admiring the scenery around you. Jayce was right when he said you two were somehow similar, the same buzzing inside your veins when you had an idea, the same eagerness and urgency to put your hands to work. The same, slightly, crazed look when focused and the same hope for a better future.

Despite how heartless it was for anyone who could look upon the situation from outside, at that moment Jayce simply couldn’t look away from your smiling face. And he smiled back. Sky was already gone, only a quiet creak of the doors reminding she was there in the first place.

,,Should I - um.'’ you weren't sure what to say, it felt like your presence interrupted. Jayce was quick to ease the misunderstanding.

,,It's nothing. Be my guest.” He gestured for a seat next to one of the spacious counters. Grabbing a cloth scattered near his cog he whipped his hands and started undoing the buttons keeping his shirtcuffs tight.

With a smile and a shrug you began to unpack your supplies. A yellow measuring tape, pins, very sharp scissors and a variation of fabrics Jayce allowed you to buy samples of. There weren't many restrictions when it came to quality nor price. You rarely had a chance to get ahold of so many exquisite materials.

,,So.” He started eying the roll of samples you placed along the counter.

,,So?’’’ You mimicked like a little parrot.

,,Which one do you recommend?” Jayce picked up the scraps, examining the small squares as if he knew what made one another different.

,,Oh, it depends on what you're looking for.” He was just about to ask you for details but your knowing smile kept him silent. With panience unlike him, the man listened as you opened up the world of textile for him. ,,From the ones I selected silk will present itself as the most luxurious. It's soft, shiny under light, liquid like in nature but also cold.” Jayce watched you thumb the material, handing it over to him. On the peripheries the square was indeed colder but in the centre, where you held it, the silk remembered your touch. He thought that you must be warm yourself. ,,Linen is less sparkly, more manly one could say, but it has a certain unruly feel to it if you ask me. It reminds me of nature.” Manly. Jayce liked how the word danced on your lips. ,,And of course cotton is a safe option, comfortable, trustworthy and good-looking. There are also different colours in the pallette -”

Your lips were producing a number of words, some about the tones that these different variants of white may bring forward from his skin, something about how he should consider the shirt in reference to other parts of the tuxedo, and some other things. It was a long day for Jayce, he felt the tiredness and stress weigh his shoulders down when he shimmied out of his current jacket and shirt, sitting on the stool in only his undershirt. It was hard for him to focus when it was so late in the evening, the stars popping in the night sky, his mind slowly shutting down from the all-day-long struggle, your hands roaming his forearms. If he wasn't a gentleman he would close his eyes and ask you for a massage. He laughed to himself absentmindedly.

,,What's so funny?” You asked, putting hands on your hips. ,,Don't tell me you're one of the people who say they don't see different shades.”

,,Oh no, no. I definitely see a lot of colours.” Like the red of your lips and the tint of your cheeks and the tone of your hair that I thought about last night.

It was improper of him, he only proved Sky's stereotypes further. Yet, was it criminal to feel a little something for a person that smiles at you so gracefully, someone that shares your ideas at heart, another being that makes you feel comfortable. It won't hurt anyone if Jayce daydreams a bit about anything different than hextech.

,,-chandeliers.” Your voice rang in his ears, reminding him that the object of his tricky attraction was standing in front of him.

,,Once more.” With a smile he erased your slight irritation.

,,You asked me which one I recommend. While I like cotton for its usefulness I believe a ball requires something more… sophisticated. Silk will look fantastic in the lights of the chandeliers.” You repeated, giving him the evils.

,,Silk it is then. Do you think it will suit me on the dancefloor?” Jayce stood up abruptly. ,,You said you're good at imagining designs, at mapping them in your head. Then come and tell me will it suit me on the dancefloor?” He raised his hands as if to waltz. Just a little bit of flirt won't kill anyone.

With a laugh you walked around him trying to portray the seams and shapes of the soon-to-be shirt.

“I can definitely see you in something enhancing the back, something simple, with details to be left shocking.”

,,Details such as…”

,,Such as an interesting collar and buttoning at the front. Something here.” You said and pointed at his chest.

,,Mhm''. He murmured, grasping your hands, tugging you delicately where he wanted you, as if you were dancing.

,,I ope you own any accessories because an outfit without them is as good as going out naked.”

,,Naked you say.”

You stopped your slow swirling and looked at each other. In that moment Jayce Talis wished that the ball never began, that he was stuck in this moment of preparation, that he had an excuse to ask you over, that he never had to think about all the things that put your worlds apart and made this impossible. In the morning he will look Sky in the eye and feel a ting of shame, he will walk past other residents of Piltover and turn a deaf ear to their whispering, he will push himself to the limit with his work. All of this will be his payment for the moment of weakness, for allowing himself to hold you in his arms and whisper into your ear sweet little nothings.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Michael Ralph, the Good Omens Production Designer, interview for Movieweb :), summer 2023

Question: What is your reaction to your fan's positivity?

Michael Ralph: It's unbelievable. To see your work reflected in the eyes of people that love it is incredibly complimentary and it feels on, you know, you're honoured by having that response .It's rare that you get to experience it. You know, I think that we were involved recently in a fans' view of the set where all the fans who'd been involved in a competition were able to walk around the set. It's extraordinary. And I got hugs and people in tears. And it is an overwhelming experience to stand in that street and be in that bookshop when you didn't think, even though you knew, but you didn't quite know it really existed as a place that you could walk around in is quite phenomenal.

Question: Do you see locations as extensions of characters?

Michael Ralph: My feeling is that we would all, if possible, choose to live where we believe and within an environment that we believe suits us, doesn't suit anyone else. It's a fingerprint thing. It's like, where are you most comfortable? Where are you most comfortable to read or to write or to watch a programme or where do you feel the most secure?That bookshop is an anchor point visually for the show and always has been an anchor point since day one. And it is where you feel most secure. It's where the door closed, you feel safe within it. And what emanates or resonates with that bookshop, not only from the character and the position or who Aziraphale is, is that everybody that walks into that bookshop feels the same thing. Everyone that walks in that bookshop, I've said it before, just want to live upstairs and drink red wine and read books all day and they feel comfortable and they feel nostalgic and it creates a sense of security and protection. And I think that if you can create that sort of sentimentality in something that you're walking around in, it must transcend the lens. And it obviously does because people feel it all the time and they want to go there and sit around in the corner and feel comfortable. So I think that from character point of view, I started really emotionally from Aziraphale. And Neil, whenever I've thought of a great idea that I tell Neil about and he tells me how amazing it might be or how fantastic or inspired it was, I suddenly start to realise it's probably in the book or it's probably in the script between the lines. What stimulates my apophenia, what stimulates my vision and my emotional motivation to design anything is what I can see in the page. So if he has written something so universally empathetic to an audience, then I'm seeing the same thing you are, in my variation, but it really is the same warp or the same sentimentality as I said, or any of those things. So if I can find how to get my fingernails under the edge of that, how I can actually depict it, then I know that it's going to work. And that's obviously... and you can believe in it then, and you can say it with all honesty, rather than impersonate your love for something or say something because your ego tells you you should, or produce something that's a duplicate of something you saw once in Italy. This is something you've got to feel that's specific to the project and specific to the written word, you know.

Question: Do you have the freedom to do what you want?

Michael Ralph: I must admit, reading the book the first time, it was difficult to get my head around how it was going to be depicted. You've got to be very careful that you don't impersonate what you've seen before, you don't copy and then call it original when it's not, because that's sort of like a cop out. You really, honestly have to live with it 24 hours a day, even while you're asleep, and search and search and search and search to find what it is that gets your fingernails under it, to find out what it is you really believe in. And it sounds so ethereal, but it's absolutely true. If you can get that, if you can openly find that, and you've got to feel that, if you can get that, then you're absolutely on something you can invest in and then something you can produce. Because then it's not something that's duplicated. All the furniture, literally all the furniture, all of the dressing on the walls, all of the bookshelves are all built but Bronwyn, a set decorator, will buy me a lot of brown furniture that she finds as really interesting furniture. Furniture that's got spindles and handcarved pieces and reliefs in it. And she gets me stuff that she believes goes with the character of the place. And then I'll break it open. This is what construction. I love working with construction with, because I'll break it open, cut it down, reattach it, and I'll remake wholewalls and bookshelves, like in the magic shop that none of it existed until we put together loads of stuff the set decorator found, that Bronwyn found. And then all that stuff ends up having a profile of the period, or echoes to you, little visual trip hazards of the period, of size and weight. But it isn't really anything you've ever seen before. It's not from a higher shop. It's not from a piece of furniture you bought, just plunk there. Because the camera sees things differently. And we have to lift all that up and make it bigger and larger in scale to punctuate the vision. So all of that is... there's all sorts of theories, I could go on forever, you know. I was saying to Bronwyn today that I think I've been working all my life on trying to raise my intellect, to be able to incorporate a vocabulary to explain what it is I do creatively. I'm not there yet.

Question: Is there something you'd like to explore in the future?

Michael Ralph: And it's funny you should say that, because that process, from what I've explained to you, doesn't originate with me. So you need to get that book or that source material, and someone has to say, you're the guide for this, I'd love to see what you see. And then it's like this massive submerge, you submerge into it. And then it's a journey, a journey that you embrace and it reveals things that I could guess maybe 15-20 things I'd like to do on Season Three, but it's not scripted. So what is that? You know, I've got imaginary things that I will adopt because I know that they've got weight or purpose that will work for Season Three. But I need to see what Neil shows me, you know, what Neil teaches and tells me, and then once I've seen that, I can run with it. He's such a wonderful appreciator of what you achieve. He's never questioned anything I've done, ever. And it's been hundreds of things, hundreds of sets and ideas. And no matter how crazy what it is, I might end up drawing the craziest things first. But he still loves them, you know. And it feels like it probably was there already between the lines. And all I've done is pick up on it. You got to really get into it to mime what it is that affects you and what moves you. What it is you love about something. You can watch a show and read a book and not love it. You don't know why you didn't love it, it's unequatable, but you just didn't connect. But what we're trying to do with everything we do cinematically is to connect, is to somehow get through the equation. So you feel it. And I got a feeling that's why Good Omens works so well. Because of the amount of love and emotion that people put into it and amount of faith people have in what they're doing, because it's only done out of joy and it's only done for the goodness of that wonderful story that is developed and matured, within it, between the characters. And because of that, you can do nothing but sprinkle magic on it all the time.

[rwbyrg]

Can we take a moment to appreciate just how well fed we are? Both in canon and beyond?

Oscar said "woah" the moment he first met Ruby.

"Woah. You have... silver eyes". Specifically.

The scene of them sparring at sunset and being goofy about it.

They're the two youngest members of the team, and both of their main allusions are stories about growing up (The Little Prince and Little Red Riding Hood).

Oscar's main allusion is of a character that's in love with a rose. Ruby's last name is Rose, she has a rose emblem, and can turn into rose petals.

They also have shared/parallel allusions from in-universe fairytales (Ex. The Boy Who Fell From The Sky, The Girl Who Fell Through the World, and most notably, The Warrior in the Woods).

The Dojo Scene

Their shared attachments to each other keep being put in focus.

Oscar cared more about Ruby being knocked out than Weiss being impaled at Haven.

Ruby's always watching his back in fights, and he always has hers in group conflict discussions.

Neo, the illusionist character, uses Oscar as both the first and last illusion to torture Ruby; going so far as to make Ruby "kill" him with her own hands. It could have been anyone, but it WASN'T. It was OSCAR.

Meanwhile, Oscar in the V9 epilogue laments to Ruby's "grave" about how he is struggling to hold onto who he is more than ever before. In large part because of the merge, but also because Ruby "always saw people for who they really were", and she's not around anymore to help remind him of who he is.

"You're your own person."

The Almost Hug.

The song that plays leading up to The Almost Hug is one about someone pining for a love they've lost and been separated from across worlds. The song airs a few episodes before Oscar and Ruby are the only "pairing" split up between Remnant and The Ever After. The song itself is called Treasure and Ruby is a type of precious gem, while Oscar's name alludes to gold.

Oscar's last name is Pine. Which, aside from the species of tree, is defined as: "to long or yearn for the return of something; to suffer, typically from a broken heart"(please see points 12 and 15).

They have multiple paralleling arcs and themes around choice, identity, responsibility, leadership, grief, etc.

Their character designs have complimentary colour schemes like other canon ships (red/green and silver/gold).

Sun/Moon ship

"Combat gear looks good."

They also follow the same story beats, separations, and reunions that other canon ships have in show (the meet-cute, the getting-to-know-you, the breakup arc, the distance makes the heart grow fonder trope, the (upcoming) emotional reunion, etc).

The animators, writers, and even voice actors on occasion, engage with fan content or discussions of the ship in a positive manner.

The Official RWBY Twitter Oscars Meme

Miles Luna has said a few times that the ship is cute. He also highlights that their relationship is built on mutual understanding from being in similar circumstances as the youngest kids in the group with too much weight on their shoulders.

Miles also said that in a hypothetical scenario where everyone celebrates Oscar's birthday, Ruby would buy a co-op video game as a present and the two of them would stay up really late playing it together.

Rosegarden won 2nd place in a popular RWBY YouTuber's "Top 10 RWBY Ships" poll as voted by fans after Volume 8 (it would have been third place if Renora and Bumbleby hadn't tied for first).

That one video from Aaron Dismuke, Oscar's VA.

"That kid's got a collapsible staff" -heart eyes emoji-

We've gotten a "Rosegarden Moment" in every Volume premiere since Oscar's debut in V4.

Oscar shouting Ruby's name too many times in the V6 fight against Cordovin.

Maria tells Oscar to "keep that fire fed" after he overhears Ruby talking about food always making her feel better. Then a few episodes later, he suspiciously makes a casserole for the "team" after "they" had a rough day (where he stood up for Ruby when she was looking defeated in a group argument).

Oscar's the only person Ruby opened up to about her grief until the blacksmith. Meanwhile, Ruby's the one who's always assuring Oscar he's his own person despite the merge.

The parallels of Oscar's struggle with the merge and Ruby's ascension in The Ever After.

"I'm just going to be another one of his lives, aren't I?" / "What if you could be anyone?"

Characters within the narrative regularly notice how close these two are to each other. Mainly Nora, Weiss, Yang, Cinder and Neo.

Oscar blushed when Ruby touched his shoulder???

THE FUMBLE?!?!?!?

[heylittleriotact]

🕯️WIP WEDNESDAY 🕯️

I feel like I’m living in the stupidest simulation ever, and have no idea what to do except balm the agony of existence with shameless smut.

Fuck all the other WIPS - the soul yearns for plotless porn that I guess is a second part to Algor Mortis.

@aldisobey @caffeinatedmunchkin @emmg @xxnashiraxx and anyone else who has a WIP: I wanna seeeeee.

Under the cut for porn.

💚💚💚💚💚

It was before dawn when she found herself drawn from sleep. She might have closed her eyes and resumed her slumber had she not found herself completely discombobulated: confused at the feeling of the soft feather mattress beneath her and the surely offensive thread count of the smooth sheets that covered it. Her surroundings smelled unfamiliar, and the air was too dry.

It was pitch dark where she was, but that didn’t stop her from lifting her head from the pillow that was steeped in the memory of a wealthy but dead Tevinter woman’s perfume: a depressing and faint medley of stale florals and and bergamot blended into something cloying and powdery. It was the sort of perfume that judgmental old money wore purely because it was an old and very exclusive label. Whether or not it was a complimentary fragrance was secondary to the prestige of owning a bottle and dousing oneself with it to the point where no one within a mile radius could escape the stinky clutches of the pungent status symbol.

She swallowed past the fear and uncertainty that had tightened her throat and felt around in the dark, finding the grounding and familiar shape of Emmrich.

A trembling sigh of relief spilled from her lips and she instantly felt herself relax as her fingers danced along the shape of his bare abdomen, dipping into concaves and skimming over lines, trailing over the soft hair that grew under his navel and up over his sternum.

She didn’t need to see him to know the shape of him… to know every inch of his elegant, carefully groomed and diligently cared for body.

They had spoken of plans during their bath, and she had elaborated on a few of her own with the full intention of seeing them through until exhaustion had triumphed.

Unsatisfied with the unwanted interference in her carefully crafted designs for the beginning of their future together, she left Emmrich’s side, keeping her palm flat against the gentle rise and fall of his stomach.

Slipping across the sleek surface of the sheets as she moved down the bed, her thumb swept over the shape of his hip bone and she placed a row of little kisses just beneath the joint of his thigh, dawdling a lazy path on his soft skin until she reached his cock.

Soft, warm, and smelling faintly of the fragrant oils from their bath and his own natural musk, she nuzzled against him, burying her nose in the coarse, well maintained thatch of hair before gently drawing him into her mouth.

She loved feeling him expand in her mouth, filling her and brushing against her cheeks as she patiently coaxed him to attention.

Almost soothingly she stroked his lower belly as she swirled her tongue around his flaccid length, hollowing her cheeks and wrapping her other hand around his base to pull back his foreskin and impart a broad, firm lick to the underside of his head.

A groggy moan warbled through the darkness, and she smiled against him before using the tip of her tongue to collect the moisture that was already collecting at his tip - an action that wrought a sharp gasp of air through teeth she couldn’t see.

Filling her mouth with his rapidly hardening cock again until she felt her fingers bump against her lips, she sighed around him, revelling in the taste of him… the heat of him… the texture of his prominent veins against her tongue.

Long fingers twined into her hair and she drew back slowly, knowing the wet drag of her cheeks felt sinfully good in his increasingly aroused state.

He uttered a heady little sigh when she released him with a lewd ‘pop’, the vulgarity of the action exaggerated by their shared inability to see one another in the room that was as dark and still as a tomb.

She let a robust quantity of saliva drip from her partly open mouth onto his twitching cock, spreading it over him with a few lazy strokes.

Taking him in her mouth again, she eased him deeper still, spurred on by the symphony of gentle panting and whispered moans coming from the head of the bed. She stopped when she felt him hit the very back of her mouth, and swallowed around him before beginning to slowly bob her head on his cock.

With an enraptured hiss, the fingers in her hair loosened and disappeared, returning to tenderly sweep aside some that had fallen into her face.

“Good morning, darling,” he whispered over the sloppy squelching sounds of her pleasing him.

Moaning around him, she continued, picking up her pace, stroking him with her hand in rhythm with her mouth. She heard the soft ‘thump’ of his head falling back to the pillow and he offered her name up to the utter blackness like a prayer.

[starrysharks]

DESIGN DEEPDIVE:

OCTAVIA KRANKENSTEIN

due to popular demand, here is my first DESIGN DEEPDIVE, where i explain all my little character designs! character design is really important to me, so i hope you guys appreciate this TwT

this deepdive goes over octavia krankenstein, the main character of my series reassassination. firstly, we'll go over shapes and color pallete, the first things you notice when looking at most character designs.

when it comes to octavia's shapes, we can see that she's primarily made of squares and triangles. this establishes two things about her right off the bat:

- she's sharp, and personality wise, probably dangerous and active.

- she's strong, and possibly stubborn.

however, a detail that i want to point out is octavia's singular circle, in the form of a button on her dress under perfect pendant. i've added this button to indicate that behind the sharp, tough exterior, octavia has some empathetic traits. the location of the button is also important, being at the heart. (this exerpt is from my own personal factfile for octavia):

"...Octavia is a particularly self-contradictory character - while she's apathetic to the idea of killing, she can't stand the idea of harming innocents - meaning she often feels the need to justify her homicidal tendencies."

the color pallete of octavia is also important. as you can see above, she's made up of two colors and a tone - black, scarlet, and seafoam green. i want to focus on black and scarlet here.

when it comes to black, i think it's an interesting color both technically and in terms of character. black was used to give octavia's design the vibe of an executioner or medieval assassin. it blends into the night, and hides bloodstains, so it makes sense for octavia to wear it as an assassin. however, this is juxtaposed by flashy red details, which indicate several things about octaiva -

- she cares a lot about fashion and the way she looks, even if it isn't functional. the style of clothing that octavia wears is heavily inspired by 2000s "mallgoth" and the general nu-metal scene, which was often red and black clothing. (cybergoth was also a small inspiration!)

- octavia is a character with a lot of freedom. this might seem like a stretch, but in color language, red indicates action, confidence, danger, passion, and power, along many other things. in canon, octavia's dress was given to her by another character (dr. krankenstein) completely black, and then octavia edited the dress herself to include red details. this on its own might seem like nothing, but the thing about octavia is that her design is complimentary to another character's; vivica de la crux.

vivica is a character who wants freedom, but has next to none, to say the least. therefore, her "red" qualities (passion, freedom, etc), are stifled, so she has very little red in her design compared to octavia. side by side, you can see that their designs have a strong contrast in this regard.

- and lastly, octavia is vulnerable in that she wears so much of her personality literally on her sleeve. while octavia may seem stoic and mysterious in terms of character, and possesses strong physical strength, she lacks social awareness and struggles in that regard, being a social outcast within the story.

alright, now it's time to go over body type, hair and outfit! these are all pretty important in my opinion.

firstly, body type. octavia's heavily exaggerated thinness which is actually inspired by that "scene kid" artstyle that you've probably seen before, and 90s/2000s cartoons and comics in general (SPECIFICALLY the art of jhonen vasquez, who made invader zim and JTHM)!

of course, octavia's hair gives her design more depth and volume, and a strong silhouette - one resembling a ghost or spiky monster. as you can see in her ref sheet, there are 3 spiked ends on either side of the hair. in fact, there are a lot of matching pairs of threes in octavia's design, aren't there?

- three bottom eyelashes on either eye - 6 in total

- three bows on either boot - 6 in total

- and of course, three hair spikes on either side - 6 in total.

that's right! octavia's design hides a secret 666, which relates to her alternative name - experiment-666 - and the fact that she's literally seen as a demon to the clear crucifix org, the antagonists of the story.

but let's look at octavia's outfit entirely. or maybe not? the thing about octavia's design is that i wanted it to be one where you could deform and modify it in various ways, and no matter how many details you remove, it's still clearly octavia. kind of like hatsune miku!

in the end, octavia is supposed to feel like a character from the 2000s, rather than just one based off of 2000s alternative culture. i don't know if i really succeeded with that, but i'm still proud of her design regardless. if you read all of this ramble to the end, thank you so much! i might do more design deepdives for other characters if people are interested. you can even request specific characters of mine if you'd like!

[saturnville]

all yours, jude bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x black fem oc (adeba malina). warnings: sexual insinuations. song: all yours by normani an: I don’t remember the last time I wrote a one-shot this long. and I came out of football retirement for this, so let me know how you like it! 🫶🏾 also, can anyone guess what position I played? 👀

“I don’t have an interest in pursuing a relationship with Jude. He’s a great guy but…”

Jude Bellingham, the world’s wonder boy, had become a staple in her life over the last few months following his multi-million dollar transfer to Real Madrid, but not for the reasons that people thought. They met during a dinner celebrating his transfer and hit it off immediately.

“Congratulations,” she said cooly and sat next to the young footballer. When her voice registered in his ears and her face came into view, his eyes grew wide and he looked like a child in a candy store. “I’m Adeba Malina.”

She needed no introduction. He knew exactly who she was. Former Madridista turned business-woman. She was known as one of the greatest center midfielders of her time; her speed, agility, and vision for a pathway to the goalbox were praised by the highest of heavens. Ronaldo’s protege and a Madrid icon. Adeba Malina was a football legend.

“Jude.” His hand engulfed hers as he shook it firmly yet delicately. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

Adeba pushed a strand of hair away from her face and nodded once, taking in the footballer with a quick sweep of her eyes. He wore a crisp black suit with a complimentary black tie against the freshly pressed white shirt. He was handsome, but she didn’t let her mind go past that. Rather she said, “I trust you’ll do big things with Los Blancos. I’m excited to see what you do on the pitch.”

He was bashful, she noticed, his brown skin suddenly growing red and a small smile on his lips, “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

“No problem at all. You enjoy your dinner, but a piece of advice, if I may.” Jude sat up intently. Adeba leaned over, her lips close to his ear as she tried to speak over the rowdy individuals around her. “You have nothing to prove to anyone. You’re young, gifted, and Black. They’ll do and say anything to make you look bad and to get in your head. Perfect your craft, do your best, and keep moving. There’s nothing to prove.”

Jude met her eyes for the first time that night. The prettiest shade of brown with specks of caramel. They held care and intentionality, just like the words she spoke, and he digested them like his favorite food. It was at that moment that Jude knew she’d be a good person in his life.

“But what?”

Adeba cursed to herself as she sorted through her jerseys for one to wear. Zizou. Ramos. Varane. Ronaldo. Beckham. Rodríguez. Malina. Bellingham. She snatched it off the hangar and onto her bed behind her. It would make do, and it would be cute with her newest navy blue heels and straight-leg jeans. “But,” she started after some time. “He’s younger than me and we’re just friends.”

The woman behind her scoffed audibly. “He’s barely 3 years younger than you, not 12. And you just went through 6 jerseys, knowing you have kits dating back to the 90s, including your own, to wear his, as you do for almost every home match. Don’t play with me.” And there it was. The bluntness and honesty of Colombia’s very own Dawn Nalinja, data analyst turned interior designer.

The two crossed paths at an event in Barcelona four years prior and had been inseparable ever since. So much so that their homes were in the same building, four floors apart. They were quite literally, two peas in a pod.

Adeba sighed and began getting dressed for the match against Dortmund. “Look, I just don’t think every friendship needs to transition to a relationship. Jude is good people and you don’t have to have to romanticize everything with good people.”

Dawn blinked, one, two, three times before sighing. “While that may be true, it’s best to romanticize aspects of your life with a good person, especially before they get swiped by someone else. You won’t know until you give it a try and that goes for anyone, not just Jude. But, we’ll leave that there. Are you ready?”

Adeba slid her feet into her shoes, fluffed her braids, and swiped her purse off the bed. She ignored the feeling within her chest and smiled softly as she tried not to think too hard on what Dawn had mentioned. “Ready!”

-

And as predicted, Los Blancos took the victory. Adeba always adored the energy of the stadium during victories, no matter who won. There was joy in seeing fans jump for joy, holler the chants of their favorite players, and take pictures with the players who’d walked by.

By the end of the match, Dawn had scurried off with her significant other, leaving Adeba to wait in the tunnel for Jude as she typically would.

She tapped her fingers against the wall as she waited for his exit, and when he came into view, the smile she didn’t realize she had on her face widened. “Hey, champ.”

Jude welcomed the greeting and returned it with a hug and a kiss against her cheek. Adeba felt warm as his arm circled around her waist and his fingers brushed against the loops of her jeans. Dangerous territories. “Thank you, Dee. What’re you doing after?”

Adeba shrugged as she stepped back to put distance between them, but it still hadn’t forced his hand to drop from her waist. If anything, it made his grip tighter. She ignored the pulsing between her thighs and said, “I planned to go home.” Her bed was always a wonderful place to be.

Jude nodded once. “Want to come to dinner with me? Not in the mood to party, but I could eat.”

Her head turned to the side and her braids swayed with it. “Just us?” The corner of Jude’s lips rose in amusement at her question. He couldn’t recall a time when them being alone mattered so much before, but with the way her breath quickened, he knew it was deeper than what she let on.

Adeba grew nervous underneath his gaze. His brown eyes were focused on her. How had she not realized how pretty they were? A rich shade of mahogany, a portal to a place unknown.

She exhaled shakily. He answered her question: “Just us.”

-

liked by judebellingham, georginagio, kylianmbappe, and 102,678 others.

adebamalina. hala madrid y nada más. congratulación a los blancos para la victoria 🤍 ft the wonder boy himself

view 3,780 comments

username stunning

username 😍

— adebamalina thank you honey

username the braids!!!

judebellingham 🤍🤍🤍 always grateful for your support

— adebamalina so proud of you.

username. just get tg alr

— judebellingham liked your comment!

username. I know yall saw Jude like her comment!

username. the prettiest wag out!

-- username. girl, she’s not a wag. just a rm legend

-- username. she’s always with jude, so she might as well be. two for one special atp

-- judebellingham liked your comment!

username. real madrid legends fr

— adebamalina and judebellingham liked your comment!

georginagio we still need to have our shopping date!!

— adebamalina I’ll book a flight in a few weeks! and tell Cris and the kids I said hello!

username. okay but fr when are they getting tg?

— saturnville girl idk I haven’t thought that far yet

-

“Stay with me tonight.”

If Adeba lived in an animated world, she would have heard her feet squeal like brakes when she stopped suddenly. She turned slowly to see Jude standing with one hand in his pocket while the other held her blue heels, a straight look on his face. “As in…?” Adeba pushed for further explanation. Sure, they’d hung out before at each other’s places and in other public spaces, but his words hinted at something more.

“Movies, snacks, and I’ll whoop your ass in Uno. Just something chill. I just…didn’t want the night to end this early.”

Adeba sighed heavily. She wanted to deny him. To tell him that wasn’t a line that needed to be crossed. That she was nothing more than a friend, a mentor in a way, to push him to be his best self in his professional and personal life, but how could she? With the way he looked down on her and not in a condemning way. But with a look of adoration. His eyebrows were relaxed and his eyes were soft. His body language spoke of comfortability in her presence with how his shoulders were low and slightly rounded above her body. Like a guard.

She wanted to tell him she’d go home, that she didn’t want to blur any lines. She wanted to admit that she had no feelings for him at all, but then she’d be lying, and one thing Adeba Malina hated was a liar.

Adeba pondered on it longer. Her teeth captured her bottom lip as her mind worked to weigh the pros and the cons. They were friends, just friends. Friends who were potentially spending the night together…alone. With any other guy friend, the idea would have repulsed her. But when it came to Jude, something within her sparked with curiosity at the idea of staying the night with him.

Maybe Dawn was right. If everything aligned, would it be worth a try?

Adeba finally met his eyes again and nodded. “Okay.”

-

“You started playing at 17 for Real. Is that how you met Cristiano?” Jude asked inquisitively and passed the bag of candy to Adeba, who sat on her knees in front of him. She nodded and popped a few Nerds in her mouth.

“Correct. The men’s team came to visit the women’s practice and of course, we’re football fanatics just like you, so having these legends visit us and give us advice was amazing. Cris always gave me good advice, especially being that we both came from nothing. So, I try to pour into you what he and many others pour into me.”

Jude couldn’t help but smile. From what she’d shared, she was Ghana-born and raised in Spain once her parents moved at the age of five. She couldn’t take much with her when traveling to Europe, but what she did take was a soccer ball her father had gotten her, which she kept in a glass case in her jersey closet. Growing up she didn’t have much, but she had her ball, and that was enough for her.

What she didn’t know was that the ball would grant her and her siblings an education, her parents a home, and her family stability that would continue even when she left the Earth. Football saved her in more ways than one. She understood what it was like to fall in love with it and she also understood the challenges that came with it. And that was what she enjoyed sharing with others. The journey of loving the game.

“I appreciate that,” he replied. There was a silence between them, a comfortable one. “I still can’t believe you kicked my ass four times.” His tone was teasing, she knew, but she could hear a hint of seriousness. She shrugged and smiled.

“A torn ACL took me out the game, but you can never take the game out of me, baby. I do this.” It was his turn to get flustered. Baby. It was a casual pet name and he knew she meant nothing by it but he wanted to hear it over and over.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “I’ll get you back eventually.”

Adeba’s eyebrow raised, “Is this a challenge, Mr. Bellingham?” His eyes met hers. There was a glint of mischief behind her which displayed her fun and teasing nature. But, behind the mischief, her eyes grew darker and the smirk on her lips grew wider, especially as he began to visibly crumble under her gaze.

“Maybe,” was all he could get out.”Guess you’ll have to find out.”

And there it was. The ambiguous statement that left the two of them wondering what the other meant. But she knew. He knew. It was his comment that seemed to shorten the invisible string between them that seemed to wrap around the world. Suddenly, it was just inches long andt the only thing that kept their bodies from pressing against one another’s in a heated exchange of passion.

“Is that so?” Adeba’s tongue circled around her cheek, a subtle action that left Jude’s stomach clenching. He nodded.

The space between them continued to dwindle. They were once separated by the middle cushion of the couch, but now, they could feel the warmth from each other’s breath fanning against their faces. Jude, making the first move, brought his hand to her bare face, fingers caressing her skin. She was so beautiful. Rich complexion with beauty marks and faded acne scars that added to her uniqueness. Her lips were so full. His thumb drummed against them. “Pretty girl…”

Her eyes fluttered closed. “Please…”

Before she could say anything else, his mouth was on hers. Adeba felt her inhibitions slip away as their lips moved together. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought of kissing him and what it’d be like. She expected something sweet. Nah, this was a grown kiss. Passionate and intense, borderline sloppy and nasty. Exactly how she liked it.

Adeba couldn’t remember how she ended up on her back with her bare legs around his waist as he kissed and sucked along the skin of her neck, but she chose not to think of it too much. She refused to be the reason why the moment was ruined.

Jude enjoyed every moment. From feeling her legs tense around his waist and shuddering as her manicured nails snuck under his shirt to trail along his abdomen to hearing her whisper his name so delicately. Jude. She drove him insane.

But, as much as he wanted to keep going, he knew she deserved more than a heated makeout on his couch at two in the morning with no clear expression of his feelings. So, he broke away from her, which was met with a very cute yet very confused expression on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Jude smiled and shook his head. He used his thumb to wipe the corners of her mouth which were damp from their heated exchange. “Nothing, I just…I like you a lot. In a more than friends way and I think you should know that before anything else happens. It’s only right.” Adeba’s eyes sparkled at his comment. “And…I’d like to take you out. On a real date. Just us. Then maybe, if you’re up to it, we can see how far this goes.”

Adeba smiled. “I’d like that.”

Damn it, Dawn.

-

6 months later…

liked by judebellingham, normani, justinskye, and 342,890 others

adebamalina my man, my man, my man

view 18,073 comments

dawnnalinjaaaa finally!!!! y’all were pissing me off

-- adebamalina yeah yeah yeah

cristiano ❤️

adebamalina liked your comment!

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normani so so so happy for you honey

georginagio double date!!!

username okay hard launch

judefanpage I’m glad he cuffed her before I did

-- username you’re so real for this

-

“Baby, we’ve got somewhere to beeee.” Adeba’s words were dragged out as she grew distracted by his lips against her neck and his front pressed against her back. “Jude…”

He hummed softly, massaging her hips as she struggled to finish the finishing touches on her makeup. They had a date to celebrate their six month anniversary but it seemed as though Jude wasn’t in a hurry to make it to their reservation on time. “You look pretty, love. Pretty and all mine.”

All yours, she replied. Jude’s eyes swept across her body. Adeba looked stunning. She wore a red dress that flowed every step she took. Her hair was curly, her makeup was bright and beautiful, and of course, her full lips were just begging to be kissed.

“Thank you,” she said, dropping her makeup products down. She turned in his arms and smiled. Her hands were against his chest and she soothed his suit jacket with her palms. “You look very handsome as always. Let’s go.”

Adeba took a step back to go find her heels and purse, but was stopped by his lips on hers. Jude swallowed every moan she released and allowed it to fuel the fire that burned within him. She circled her arm around his neck as their kiss intensified. She’d never get enough of this.

“I love you,” he mumbled against her lips.

Adeba smiled. “I love you too.”

[directdogman]

Commenting on DT fan OCs!

Alright, I'mma take a look at some DT fan OCs! I've been sent quite a few, so I'll try to keep my comments for each one short 'n' sweet!

great name, snappy dresser. diggin' the bowtie! the pins are also a fun accessory!

Another snappy dresser! Tied well to an existing location in-game and the idea to explain the stickers is cute! attire is unique/memorable and the blues/browns compliment each other well. solid design. I do appreciate him!

Yo, this guy was in the last one! what is this, a crossover episode???

the bandage on side of face is a nice touch! digging the pinstripe pants too! graveyard shift at a convenience store is also quite an authentic job for a DT side character to have too! very nicely done.

Solid OC! well-drawn, unique job and her fit's stylish (it probably goes without saying that i'm a sucker for TV heads with dogs on them. that's gotta be a given, right?) The stickers on the back of the head are also a nice addition! well done!

Stanley's a real cad, huh? pizza delivery guy with a novelty pizza phone head is genius - making him flirt with milves on the job is just inspired though. i almost wish i'd come up with this guy, as i can totally imagine people around town talking about him. excellent job!!!

he's aptly named for an arcade dude! dig the fit too, especially the black + purple fingerless long sleeve gloves! the decals on the phone are neat too!

I approve of his activities but the lack of a visible mouth threw me off, since i've seen these old toy phones before, ofc.

i was about to ask "how does he drink ocean water without a mouth", before realizing that id been bamboozled into asking the fandom-favourite question of: 'how does he eat without a mouth?', only to then remember that practically no DT characters have visible mouths.

i hope you know that you've strained my weary brain today. cool OC, though.

banana phone's a fun concept! also, i must say your username's quite fitting. crept up on me from my peripheral as I gazed upon the banana phone, like a bizarre centipede of some sort. well, i'd assume so. in hindsight, most centipedes i've encountered have been pretty straightforward with me. i guess i should be grateful for that.

i like mary's fuzzy phone matching the trim of her dress but martin's really got my attention. cool name, neat quirk (he kills people, that takes moxie. hell, even pizzaz too, dare i say?) The dial being a lil clock is a neat touch since it ties his interest into the design. also quite like the cord tail matching the phone head's colour. solid design!

i like his head-type and the attire/pale skin gives a nice bit of contrast!

hard to say how randy'd feel about him, as someone who's only seen his design and 2 lines of dialogue (as someone's personality dictates randy's opinion on them far more than their appearance.) if you feel they'd get on though, you're probably correct! (randy isn't too picky, after all!)

Funnily enough, one of the earliest sketches for crown has a similar bolted plate stuck to a mostly intact phone head. it was even sticking from one of the sides. or corners. i'd have to dig up the notebook, as it's been like 4 years since I came up with the character. Sorry, just made me remember since the earliest sketches had one too.

Copper phone head's a neat idea. Contrasts well with his attire as well (nice and complimentary.) if only his attempts to deter jesse from the za worked out as well, eh?

Alright, that's it for me! thanks for the submissions, these were real creative! good job, everyone!

[saintvainglorious]

My First Fanbind! A Black Sails Fic Anthology Series

It took me a year (and a lot of anxious research) before I worked up the courage to bookbind fanfiction, and after months of on-again-off-again work, my first fanbind is finally done!

I knew that if I was going to bookbind fic, I had to bind something from the Black Sails fandom, aka the fandom and show that have had the biggest impact on my life. Y'all, I almost went into academia to study slavery in the 17th-18th century Caribbean because of this show - when folks say this show rewires your brain chemistry, they are NOT kidding. THEE show of all time. Happy 10th anniversary to Black Sails! This fandom is small but mighty. May we continue to get our hearts and souls blasted to smithereens by this show for many years to come.

Ao3 abounds with magnificent Black Sails oneshots, so I decided to put together an anthology of my favorite Silverflint fics under 20k, which I split into two volumes. Included are works by @justlikeeddie, @vowel-in-thug, @balloonstand, @annevbonny, @francisthegreat, @nysscientia, and more! Thank you, thank you all, you brilliant wonderful people, for gracing the Internet with such amazing writing. When I read the fics in these anthologies I want to fling myself into the sun.

More on the design and binding process below the cut!

Vol. 1 Page Count: 270 (12 fics) Vol. 2 Page Count: 248 (11 fics) Body Font: Sabon Next LT (10.5 pt) Title Font: Goudy Old Style Other Fonts: IM Fell English, pirates pw

The typeset (which I did in Word) took a while, mainly because I'd never done it before. Manually adjusting the hyphenation line-by-line was especially tedious. After making these books, I abandoned Word in favor of InDesign, in large part because InDesign gives you way finer control over your justification and hyphenation settings.

Regarding my actual design choices, I'm happy with how the ocean motif on the title page turned out (it's not the same pattern as my endpapers, but they're complimentary) and I'm very fond of my divider dingbats, which are little swords! Goudy Old Style was a fun title font to use, since it's the font that Black Sails uses as its logo. The stories in Vol. 1 are divided into parts based on what Silver WAS at that point in the show (cook, quartermaster, or king), and Vol. 2 is split up into comedies, histories (AUs set in the canon universe) and tragedies - befitting Black Sails' Shakespearean ~vibes~.

I stuck to a flatback binding, as I wasn't feeling quite ambitious enough to try rounding and/or backing. I've learned that I ~Anakin Skywalker voice~ hate sanding, enjoy folding/sewing, and don't LIKE edge trimming but enjoy the results enough to make it worth it.

The real adventure was decorating the cover, which remained bare for months. After agonizing over Illustrator and experimenting unsuccessfully with HTV and lokta paper embossing, I ultimately turned to using stencil vinyl to paint on the designs. There was a bit of seepage under some of the stencils, but I was able to scrape off the excess with my Cricut weeding tool without damaging the coated surface of the bookcloth (probably Arrestox Blue Ribbon from Hollander's). Even though it was very time-consuming, I'm so happy with the end result of the stenciled paint job and I intend to stick with stencils for my foreseeable future binds.

Are there things I would change? Sure. It was humid out when I printed, so the pages have got a wave. There’s an extra two pages in Vol 2. that I have no idea how I missed, and I got a line of glue in the middle of one of my Vol. 2 endpapers. I’m pretty sure I didn’t case in quite right, since my endpapers pull away from the case at the spine. I think the inner margins are a bit too big, and despite going line-by-line there’s still some wacky justification spacing in the typeset. But man, am I proud of these books! It is so satisfying to learn a new skill - MANY new skills, if we’re being honest - and to make something both beautiful and practical. If I’m still binding in two years or so, I can see myself redoing the typeset in InDesign, cutting out the existing text block, and reusing the cases. I’m also already planning for Vol. 3, which will be Silverflint Modern AUs.

Thanks for reading!

[arkangelo-7]

Okay, but, what types of water bottles do the Bats use?

Bruce uses a Yeti. It’s sturdy, reliable, and hasn’t dented once in the past 15 years, which is quite the accomplishment, given how many explosions that thing has been caught in. Back when Dick was like 10 and still Robin, he gifted Bruce the aforementioned Yeti with a sticker that had “#1 Boss!” printed on it. (It’s been nearly two decades and a day has yet to go by where Bruce doesn’t use it). Sometimes, he brings it to Justice League meetings just to throw people off guard.

If you think Dick Grayson doesn’t carry around a half-gallon jug of water, then you’re wrong. It’s bright blue and covered with stickers from all the places he’s traveled (including that one planet from that one mission the Titans refuse to speak about). Bruce has lectured him about the importance of hydration so many times over the years, that’s it’s ingrained in him to finish at least two refills before going on patrol. He also says “hydrate or die-drate” and quotes hydration statistics to anyone that tries to ask why he drinks so much water.

Jason is the type of person to have like five boxes of those plastic Ozarka water bottles stacked in his pantry. Damian berates him for his ostentatious use of plastic, but Jason grew up in a world where clean water was never a given. Now, it’s not something he needs to worry about—he’s got money, power, influence. But old habits die hard and he can’t go to sleep unless he knows he has a reliable source of water somewhere in his safe house.

Tim got a hydroflask back when they were popular in 2019 and just never bothered to upgrade. He doesn’t actually keep water in it, through; he’s got a rotating system of Diet Coke, black coffee, Celsius BCAA, and a synthetic energy drink he designed himself (one which Bruce would 100% forbid him from drinking if he knew about it).

Cass… drinks water. It’s just, no one has ever actually seen her with a water bottle, so to speak. They’ll be on a mission, or patrol, or a stakeout, and a full on plastic cup (usually with some sort of animated character or football team plastered on it) will just materialize out of nowhere. No one knows where she keeps them. No one knows where she even got them.

Steph (plus Barbra) uses a Stanley Cup. Although she first invested in it somewhat ironically, she’s grown to appreciate its functionality. It fits in her car’s cup holders, it’s easy to carry around when she’s at school, and she once used it to knock out the Riddler when he tried to abduct her principal at a pep rally. She and Babs both already pre-ordered the purple, LoveShackFancy special addition and guilt tripped Bruce into getting a matching one with them.

Damian uses some weird, eco-friendly water bottle brand that no one has ever heard of. (It’s expensive, but it comes with a complimentary metal straw, naturally). Dick thinks his seriousness about his carbon footprint is adorable; Jason thinks it’s fun to tease him, so he got him a Bubble Guppies sippy cup as a gag-gift for Earth Day back in 2020. He lost the tip of his left ring finger by the time Bruce and Dick were able to drag Damian off of him.

And then there’s Alfred. No one’s actually sure if he needs water in the first place, because no one’s actually seen him drink anything other than tea. Dick claims that he saw Alfred using one of those green, squeezey Gatorade bottles back when he was still Robin, but no one believes him.

[home-sweet-hive]

ALTERNATE HUMANITY A Field Guide to "Humanity Removal Therapy"

Part 1: Introductions

This is a complimentary series to this system's other Animal HRT series; Black Arms HRT

This story is NOT written by the system's host, Aikshlin (🌹). To keep with the mystery of the story itself, the author of this story has chosen to simply go by "Penpal" (🖋) for the time being.

WARNING: This story currently contains Swearing, Mild Mentions of Death, Implied Reincarnation, and a perhaps Untrustworthy Narrator

[The Beginning (You are here!)] [Next]

Somewhere within a city left a mystery to most, there lives a peculiar scientist by the name of Doctor Theodore H. Erian, who is known by a select group of individuals for providing an experimental treatment to anyone across the dimensional planes willing to take it. ‘Animal HRT’, they call it, though it is more professionally understood as ‘Humanity Removal Therapy’; a medical miracle designed to change someone into a completely different species.

Despite its colloquial name, this treatment is not limited to just animals, nor is it limited to species commonly considered as ‘real’. Creatures of fantasy, creatures of folklore, and even creatures from modern fictional media have been achieved from this incredible treatment.

With a power so great, it was only a matter of time until that power, that medicine, fell into the wrong hands. Some would argue that Doctor Erian’s hands were already the wrong hands. Others would point to other doctors not affiliated with Doctor Erian, giving out “back alley treatments” as Erian himself would call them. 

But there are a select few that say that the true danger lies within the patients themselves.

After all, despite Doctor Erian’s claims that he asks each patient to spend at least 48 months as their desired species, it has been found that it is scarily easy for these patients to just lie and get what they want at a moment’s notice.

The city where Doctor Erian works, only known as ‘Hyper City’, is said to be a crossroads between dimensions. A place that anyone from any reality can access if they have knowledge of it, and a place where theoretically one could travel to any reality from as well. With such widespread access to this strange location, it was only a matter of time before someone with questionable motives came across its existence.

And with it, the existence of ‘Humanity Removal Therapy’ as well.

Somewhere within the computer of Doctor Erian, there exists a copy of a set of journal entries. And elsewhere on that same computer, there exists an email sent to him by a concerned citizen of “who-knows-what” planet of the “who-knows-where” dimension (his words) – several, in fact. 

Doctor Erian was dismissive of the message at first, regarding it as either something already addressed or simply an attempt at ‘trolling’. 

But once he saw the entries included in the email, he saw the situation unfolding just under his nose to be quite the troubling one.

And perhaps you will too.

---

January 8th, 2025

Today was a short day at the station, or at least it was for me. A sudden and rather heavy snowstorm is supposed to hit the area tonight (??? Yeah of course it's sudden how the hell are we getting snow???), so all attention is given to our meteorologist for today’s broadcast. 

Not that I’m complaining, of course. The less labour I have to endure, the better.

But either way, this leaves me with a lot of free time on my hands. Originally I was going to make use of that time by heading down to the entertainment department to see how A████’s work was coming along, but as I got up and started to head over to his desk, I noticed that they were, in fact, already here within my area, talking to another member of the news crew as the two of them sipped on bottles of water from the work cooler.

“... Can’t seriously be real,” I recall having picked up on the tail end of a sentence from A████, spoken in disbelief.

“I went there! It’s real!” The other guy insisted. I had inferred from those words that they must have been talking about a location of some kind.

“Well then explain to me why I’ve never seen this ‘Hyper City’ on a map anywhere,” A████ had inquired of his peer. 

“Oh yeah, that. I think a local told me that it’s a sort of realm between dimensions? So you can get there from wherever, so long as it’s your intention to get there!” The other guy tried to explain himself, but it only seemed to make A████ even more skeptical.

“Yeah, you’re making this shit up,” It scoffed, ready to take off elsewhere.

But before he could, I inserted myself into the conversation. I couldn’t help it, I was horribly curious. Something had beckoned me to get to know as much as I could on this strange topic the two were speaking of.

But what else is new?

A████ was pretty happy to see me, usually is, so he was more than happy to give me the details. Though, part of me suspected that part of it was A████ being forced to do the ‘honors’, since the other guy seemed to be a starstruck newbie and/or low level that completely froze at the sight of me. 

According to A████, he and the new guy were talking about some fantastical town called “Hyper City” that can access any and every dimension and world and that is filled with humanoid animal beings. Yeah, can’t blame A████, that is pretty out there. 

But I have seen stranger, experienced stranger. Despite our closeness, A████’s pretty new to what we do here as well. Kiddo’s still on their first life and everything. So while I can’t blame it for not believing the story, I also don’t agree with it. 

Without even thinking about it, an order for the two of them to go out to this ‘Hyper City’ and retrieve a souvenir from there slipped out from my lips. I only realized I had said it when A████ questioned if we should run that plan past the Big Bear first.

Whether I had just forgotten to think before I spoke or if it was something deeper than that I never really cared to look into, to be honest. Makes no difference to me.

But yeah, I should probably get to writing that email to D████. I still have a lot left to get done before I go about kicking another bucket, you know?

> What’s this about you dying now? It is much too early for that.

Oh, hey babe! Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. Just a little joke, LOL.

> Good. Make sure it stays that way.

Sigh. Only you would threaten me to not die. <3

By the way, why are you in my notes?

> Nearly 35 years, and you’re only asking that now? You really are a dumbass.

“Why”, not “how”. Who’s the dumbass now?

> You never hesitate to make use of your special privileges, do you? 

> But to answer your question, I must remind you that you have a meeting with S████ and Doctor K████ at eight o’clock.

Oh shit that’s right! Thanks hun.

Now I really should get to that email, huh-?

> Yes.

Remind me to update this document with the results of the little chase I’ve sent A████ and that other guy on.

> As if you even need to ask me. Your “inspiration” will surely beat me to the chase. 100%.

Love you too. 

---

January 9th, 2025

The storm came just as strongly as predicted, leaving us with a couple inches of snow  on the ground. 

I honestly couldn't believe it. Snow? This far south? I'll be honest, when I wrote that part down yesterday I thought it was some sort of joke. But the current way the world's been going has left the weather all sorts of fucked up.

Despite the nearly once in a lifetime experience going on outside, I had stuck to my usual morning routine of getting ready to go to work. Sure, it may be unusually cold out today, but I always wear at least two layers of clothes anyways. 

But apparently I was taken off of the work schedule for today regardless. 

On record they wrote that it was because I live too far out from the station, and they didn't want me driving across town. But honestly, I just think they're pampering me. 

I can't tell if that thought makes me feel flattered or insulted.

And A████ laughing about it when I called him earlier didn't help me decide, either. Yeah, of course this is typical for his hometown back in New York, but we certainly aren't up there, are we?

But either way, that means that instead of going to work and getting to report about the first snowfall I've ever gotten to see, I'm relegated to just writing a follow-up to what I was talking about yesterday.

I did actually get an email back from Mr D████, like pretty much right after I sent him my message! I know, pretty surprising, right? The old man usually takes like a week to respond to any emails sent to him at the earliest.

But apparently he had already heard about this ‘Hyper City’ place. Didn't know about the weird dimension part of it though, only knew it as a place S████ had told him and everyone else about wanting to take a vacation to. 

Suffice to say, that was a pretty interesting bit of information to have with me during that meeting with her and E████ K████.

Speaking of, here's an excerpt from that meeting, recounted to the best of my ability. Why? S████ brings up something pretty interesting about Hyper City, I think. Also, because I was told to.

–

“Oh, just so you know, I'm gonna be going on a bit of a vacation next week. So don't count on me being available during that time, okay~?” 

“I'm aware.”

“Wait, what??” 

“Care to explain how, L████?”

“Heh, sure!”

“But first, what if I told you that I also know where it is you plan to go?” 

“That'd be…”

“That'd be so cool!!” 

“S████, you're planning a vacation to Hyper City, right?” 

“Yeah!! How'd you know?” 

“Well, you see, it seems you're not the only one around here who knows of that strange place.”

–

I then proceeded to explain to S████ the conversation I had inserted myself into yesterday.

It was her response to this explanation of mine that had truly captured my attention.

–

“Well I definitely hope it's real!! I'm traveling out there in the hopes of getting my hands on some Cat HRT!” 

“... Cat HRT? Like… Hormones for… cats???”

“Not quite! Apparently, it's HRT that’s supposed to turn you into a cat!”

“And before you ask how I'm gonna still do my duties while being a cat – you can apparently stop before a certain point and you'll stay an anthropomorphic animal rather than going full feral! The ‘crossroads’, I think it was called?” 

“... I'm putting you into the souvenir venture group as well. If it's alright with E████, I'd like for you to join A████ and B████ in their expedition, and for your souvenir to be that ‘Cat HRT’ you so desire.”

“Well who would I be to defy that decree?”

“Can do!!”

–

And after that, we moved on to other topics of discussion.

But you can see why what she said interested me, right?

> Once more, you are not beating the ‘catboy’ allegations.

THE CAT PART IS NOT WHY I'M INTRIGUED, YOU CALCULATOR.

> Surely.

> Allow me to predict what you are about to type; It is the general idea of transforming the human body into something it was ‘not supposed to be’, yes?

Pretty much, yeah.

Turning into a cat is cool and all, but I think this technology could go to a much more important use if we got a hold of it, wouldn't you agree?

> Certainly.

I think I need to put these notes - starting with yesterday's - into a document of their own. I have a feeling that this may grow into a story of its own at some point.

So I'm going to do that now.

---

January 18th, 2025

After giving out today’s report, I was called to the break room to have a bit of a chat. That much isn’t too unusual, happens to me a lot. What can I say, people wanna hear what I have to say!

What was unusual was that it was E████ of all people who had requested my presence.

When we met up just outside the break room, I had asked them what they were doing here – why they were not back at their lab like usual.

To that they had just a simple response. 

–

“Whenever there’s something I need to tell you, or anyone else that works here at the station, I usually send S████ out to deliver the message for me. But since now S████ has something she must say to you, but is… scared to, I figured I’d play fair and do the honors for kit.”

–

I understood their words quite well, but I was a bit surprised to hear that S████ would be scared to tell me something. 

I had a feeling it had something to do with the ‘Cat HRT’ thing, but she does know that I wouldn’t be mad at her if things fell through just this once… right?

Well, if not, then I should set the record straight and make it clear that she’s okay – that’s what I figured at the time.

So I asked E████ outright if S████ had failed to obtain the ‘Cat HRT’.

She had.

Apparently, the doctor that gives that stuff out over in Hyper City is a strict one, making the people who come to him to jump through so many hoops just to start treatment that it makes us look like a free-for-all. The current supporting claim for this is that ‘Animal HRT’ is still experimental, so it’s ‘best practice’ to limit the amount of people who can have it.

What a load of bullshit, whatever happened to unleashing a substance into a small town to roam free so you can see what happens?

> Hah.

<33

But anyways, once I had that explanation from E████, I made my way inside the break room where S████, as well as A████ and B████, were waiting for me.

A████ stood at the front of the group, confidently holding his souvenir – a branded pen from the Hyper City Municipal Zoo.

B████ stood just off to the side of A████, looking a bit less confident in my presence. In his hands he held a printed photograph of himself, A████ and S████ in the streets of Hyper City. 

Clever boy, that one.

And then there was poor S████, cowering behind the other two as she refused to look me in the eyes. Within their shaking hands, I could just barely make out a snow globe, containing within it a miniature model of the city – one that lined up very well with what B████’s photo depicted.

After looking at each of the souvenirs, I handed them all back to their respective owners and thanked them on a job well done. 

A████ and B████ looked delighted to have my approval, but S████ was instead confused. She asked me why I wasn’t upset at her. 

After all, it had not done as I asked. They did bring a souvenir, yes, but it was not the one I instructed kit to get.

I informed her that I was very much aware of the fact that they had indeed tried to get a hold of a ‘Cat HRT’ prescription, but the plans fell through. And so I had said to her;

–

“Why would I be mad at you for trying?”

–

That did seem to make her feel better, though not entirely. So I went for another swing;

–

“And besides, you’ll have some to show off in about 48 months right? That’s a pretty short amount of time in the grand scheme of what we’re promised.”

–

But that one was unfortunately a miss.

As it turns out, S████ was not in fact just put on the waiting list for getting her desired ‘Animal HRT’. 

She had been outright rejected.

She had explained - tearfully - that no real reason had been given to it, just some vague bullshitting about a “sketchy result in a background check”.

I remember seeing red then, and I still do now as I write this down.

I knew right then and there that I would have to face this doctor himself. Doctor Erian is his name, apparently.

But whoever he is, I’m going to make him fess up to the real reason he denied S████ treatment. 

> May I accompany you?

You? Asking to do something? That’s new.

But yeah. I was already planning on it.

> Of course you were, gayass.

BITCH???

So mean to me, for no reason at all. </3

But anyways.

My memory of what happened next begins to become a bit fuzzy at this point, but I know I took off from the break room and wordlessly made my way to Mr. D████’s office. I knew I’d need to get another bit of approval to go to Hyper City myself. That certainty was the only thing in my mind at the time outside of the all-consuming rage I had felt.

Once I entered his office, however, that one driving thought had faded. I had gotten where I needed to in order to get what I wanted, so all that was left was my anger. 

It’s at that point where my memory cuts out completely for a bit.

We pick back up some time later, with me still sitting in the office, and Mr. D████ walking in on me being there.

Understandably, he asked what I was doing in there – which snapped me out of my daze.

I had been seated in a chair placed right in front of his desk, gripping on a teddy bear that had been placed on his desk, ████, I think his name is, with such force that it could probably kill if the guy was still human. 

After recollecting myself, I had managed to explain what had happened with S████, and gave out my request to go to Hyper City on my own to confront Doctor Erian. 

I was approved for February 9th. “Don’t kill the guy”, I was told.

No promises.

–

The following is an email correspondence between Doctor Theodore H. Erian and Doctor Mirai Fortune.

To: Dr. Mirai Fortune

From: Dr. Theodore H. Erian

Subject: Follow Up on “Notes on Animal HRT”

Good afternoon Doctor Fortune. 

Or whatever time of day it is for you where you are. 

I have finally gotten around to reading through the PDF file you sent to me, and I must say, first and foremost, that I apologize for brushing off both our face-to-face meeting in my office some months ago and your first few emails as baseless fear mongering. It seems I have no reason to regret turning Miss Holmes away after all.

That is, I assume the person described as seeking Cat HRT in these notes is her, right?

I ask because while I am not sure if you are aware of this, parts of the file are redacted. Specifically, all names mentioned in the text aside from my own. 

I personally find this quite troubling, as I believe that having as much information on this group of people is priority here, especially when it seems that the writer of the notes, who I only know currently as “L” due to the redactions, threatens to harm me.

Dr. T. H. Erian

To: Doctor Theodore H. Erian

From: Doctor Mirai Fortune

Subject: PDF Error

Hello, Doctor Erian.

The redaction on some parts of the PDF I sent you is not intended, and the fact that it is there is something that deeply troubles me. I apologize for whatever confusion it may have caused. I really thought my assistant had successfully decrypted the encryption put on the document.

You see, Doctor Erian, the people that we are dealing with are very committed to their secrecy. 

But the two of us will continue to work on this matter, and will send you the decrypted files as soon as we can.

Thank you for informing me of this matter.

And by the way, yes. The apparent “S” mentioned in the files is Serena Holmes. I appreciate you taking my advice to refuse her treatment.

I understand you may see it as cruel to deny a patient on such grounds, but I promise you that she is not nearly as innocent as she seems.

None of these people are.

Again, thank you for working with us to ensure the safety and sanctity of humanity across the dimensions.

Mirai 

To: Doctor Mirai Fortune

From: Doctor Theodore H. Erian

Subject: Response To: “PDF Error”

Good morning Doctor Fortune,

I understand that the redactions were made in error, but can I at the very least have the name of the person who wrote these notes? Again, it seems that they intend to hurt me, and I would like to have the necessary information to keep them out of my office. 

By the way, shortly after you left that picture of Miss Holmes at my desk, I tried asking a friend of mine that is more familiar with other dimensions and supernatural things about that symbol that was on the back of the photo. Unfortunately, the two of us got a bit… distracted talking about something else that was going on at the time, so I was not able to get an answer from her. 

Could you tell me what it is? Thank you in advance.

Dr. T. H. Erian

To: Doctor Theodore H. Erian

From: Doctor Mirai Fortune

Subject: Names and Symbols

Hello Doctor Erian.

The symbol on the back of the photo is the emblem of the organization Serena is a part of. Refuse service to all that wear it.

You will find that the name of these note’s author will be easy to find. Fortunately, it seems the title of the document itself was successfully decrypted by my assistant in the copy you have. 

What is the name of this “friend” you speak of? Is she an assistant of yours? 

Mirai

To: Doctor Mirai Fortune

From: Doctor Theodore H. Erian

Subject: Assistant

Good evening, Doctor Fortune,

The name of my friend is Iris – she calls herself “Iris the Dark Witch”. I suppose you could call her an “assistant” in a sense, as she is the one I worked with to develop Animal HRT (Humanity Removal Therapy), in the first place. 

I’ll forward her this email chain to see if I can get her opinion on all this. 

Aside from that, I must admit I am not fond of your vagueness when it comes to the author’s name. Again, I ask, what is their name?

Dr. T. H. Erian

To: Doctor Theodore H. Erian

From: Doctor Mirai Fortune

Subject: [N/A]

Hello Doctor Erian.

If it does not come to you now, then it will when he shows up in your office.

I trust you to act accordingly.

If he asks to have you view anything on his computer, refuse immediately.

Mirai 

[slaymitchabernathy]

The Nanny

Having never been to a high society wedding before, Soarynn had made the foolish, naive mistake of thinking that she'd actually get to spend a moment alone with her husband.

How wrong she had been.

From the moment they stepped into the dining room, they were pulled in separate directions.

Soarynn was swarmed by the women complimenting her entire look for the day, her hair, her makeup, and of course, her dress. Every time either of them sat back down at the dinner table, they were getting right back up again.

Coriolanus mostly talked business and politics with the men, and occasionally he'd be congratulated on getting married.

Once they moved to the ballroom it was even busier. Soarynn was expected to greet and thank every guest as the new First Lady and with Eudora by her side, she actually managed quite well. Coriolanus would appear and disappear from her side while she greeted all of their guests, whispering words of encouragement, kissing her temple, and then going back into the crowd.

At least she had the children to keep her company. They showered her with compliments all while basking in all of the attention they were given. Truly children in a candy shop.

"When can we be expecting more little ones?" An older woman had asked Soarynn while smiling down at Caspian. Soarynn had honestly been a bit taken aback by her forwardness, she hadn't even been married for a full day and people already expected her to be pregnant.

Thank goodness she had Eudora to help her navigate her way out of awkward conversations. "Just ignore them dear," Eudora had advised, "enjoy the rest of your night with your husband."

Easier said than done.

Soarynn had last seen Coriolanus in what looked like a serious conversation with Quintus and several other important-looking men. Still, she wandered through the ballroom, flashing smiles at all who looked in her direction. "Such a beautiful ceremony," a woman says to Soarynn, "and such a beautiful bride." Soarynn feels a more genuine smile crawl across her lips, "Thank you for your kind words, and thank you so much for attending."

The woman waves her off, "Oh we wouldn't miss this for anything, it's the wedding of the century!"

Soarynn keeps mingling, answering questions, and posing for photos, she can see her husband's blonde head of hair standing tall above everyone else's, and just as she's about to reach him, she's ambushed by Lucky Flickerman and his camera crew.

"I've got Soarynn Snow with me folks! Soarynn. Snow. Remember that name because you're gonna be hearing a lot of it in the upcoming months with next year's elections coming up! Now Soarynn, what do you have to say to those watching from the Districts?"

He points the microphone at Soarynn and she's nearly blinded by the camera's bright light but she manages a graceful smile, "My husband and I are so grateful for those who took the time out of their days to watch our wedding." Lucky nods along to her words, soaking up every syllable as if she's a general delivering an encouraging speech to her battered troops. "Well said Mrs. Snow! I've been hearing nothing but the highest praises sung about your beauty today, and may I just say, you look stunning in that dress! Who designed such a piece of work?"

Soarynn feels herself relax at a question that she can easily answer without any repercussions, "My dear friend Tigris designed my dress," she tells Lucky, "she's designed most of my gowns the past year, she's bringing a new edge to fashion."

Lucky's eyes grow large, "A new edge you say? Well, folks, it looks like we're on the cusp of a new fashion era! How exciting! Well my dear, congratulations again, I can't wait to see you at the Victory Party!"

Ah yes, another party.

Soarynn thanks Lucky for his time, pressing the complimentary kiss to his cheek before he runs off to interview more unfortunate souls. Soarynn let out a deep breath she didn't even realize that she was holding in. She doesn't even get a moment to relax before she hears a small voice calling for her attention, "Mommy!"

Soarynn looks to her left and finds Celeste walking towards her, hand in hand with an older-looking woman. Soarynn has never met this woman before but that applies to a majority of the people in this room today, "Hello darling, who did you bring along with you?" She asks, brushing back some of Celeste's curls, "I brought Grandmother!"

Soarynn's eyes widen and she looks back up at the older woman who now looks very familiar. Mrs. Cardew, Livia's mother. She didn't even know that the Cardews were invited.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Soarynn says softly, extending her hand to the Grandmother of her children. Mrs. Cardew takes her hand and gives it a firm shake, "The pleasure is all mine. I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you from the children and everyone in this room," Mrs. Cardew says, her gaze impenetrable.

Coriolanus has maybe spoken about the Cardews three times total and he never mentioned inviting them to the wedding. Not that Soarynn minds, but she would've appreciated a heads-up at least.

"Thank you, that's very kind," Soarynn replies, feeling a bit caught even though she's done nothing wrong and this is her wedding, "Coriolanus and I appreciate you coming." Mrs. Cardew's eyes travel down Soarynn's dress as if looking for a flaw but it seems that she's found none, "Yes, we will always do our duty to support our country and our President."

Soarynn swallows because she is not the President or the reason they came tonight.

"I want to have more cookies," Celeste says, tugging on her Grandmother's hand impatiently. Soarynn goes to correct her but Mrs. Cardew holds up a hand, "We can go get more cookies, Celeste."

Celeste grins, giving Soarynn a wave before she begins to drag her Grandmother into the crowd but the cake is being wheeled in and causing quite the traffic jam from the looks of it. Only inches away from one another, Soarynn could cut the tension between her and Mrs. Cardew with a knife.

"Take care of my grandchildren, will you?" Mrs. Cardew whispers, her green eyes reflecting so many emotions at once, grief, sadness, and loss. Soarynn nods, "I'll guard them with my life," she promises and she means it too, she's done it before and she'll gladly do it again.

That seems to make Mrs. Cardew relax and she sighs, "Good, and you'll make him happy won't you?" She nods towards Coriolanus who's standing on the other side of the ballroom, "My daughter was never good at that."

Mrs. Cardew and Celeste disappear into the crowd before Soarynn can even respond, leaving her with a million thoughts racing through her head. But she knows one thing for certain, she'll make Coriolanus happy, it's what a good wife does.

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn would be lying if she said that she wasn't exhausted.

Still, she waves to those who are watching her as she slides into the backseat of the car that will drive them to her childhood home for their much-awaited honeymoon.

Coriolanus slides in after her and lets out a deep sigh once the doors are closed and they're hidden by the tinted windows, "Well that was exhausting," he says, resting his head on her shoulder. Soarynn chuckles, at least he's honest, "It was rather tiring," she agrees, her hand finding his, "but it was so wonderful. Thank you for making today so special."

He gives her hand a gentle squeeze and the car starts moving, "You were what made it so wonderful darling, I simply paid the bill."

They both laugh at his very true statement. Coriolanus barely planned a thing but he did sign every check that Soarynn or Eudora laid across his desk without even batting an eye at the price.

"We're married," she whispers, giddiness taking over her entire body, "I can't believe we're finally married." Coriolanus hums and brings up their intertwined hands to admire her rings, "All everyone could tell me tonight was about how beautiful you are, how kind and sweet, makes me wonder how you ended up with a man like me."

Soarynn scoffs, sitting up straighter, "You say that as if you're evil or something." Coriolanus lifts his head so that he can look directly into her eyes, "I'm the President darling," he tells her gently as if that's enough of an explanation, "every decision I make angers half of the country and the other half still finds something to critique."

Soarynn frowns, he's always been under so much pressure, and with the elections coming up next year, he's bound to be even more stressed. "Maybe...maybe you shouldn't run for reelection then," she whispers, scanning his face for any signs of anger, she doesn't doubt his abilities but she doesn't want him to carry this weight alone.

Coriolanus shakes his head, a determined look in his blue eyes, "It's not even an option at this point Soarynn," he tells her, "my advisors have been pushing for this since I got elected the first time and none of my competitors stand a chance against me. I have everything I need to win again, the name, the money, the family."

Goosebumps cover Soarynn's skin at the last word, "People are already asking when we'll be having more children," she blurts out, unable to contain her thoughts any longer, "and I met Livia's mother tonight."

Coriolanus can't even hide his look of surprise, not that she can blame him. Coriolanus Snow is an expert in masking his emotions but he can't always be prepared for whatever she throws at him. "I didn't expect the Cardews to come," he finally says, almost like admitting to a secret, "and as for future children, I've told you this already darling, we have three perfect children already. If we have more then that'll be wonderful, if we don't, then all will be well."

He's right. They have three beautiful children right now, sound asleep in their beds, healthy as can be and Soarynn is worrying about having more babies. She ought to stop thinking about the future so much, it can't be healthy. Soarynn hums and leans in to peck his lips, "I feel like I barely saw you tonight, and when I did you were talking to another man. Makes me question where your loyalties lie."

Coriolanus smirks, cupping her face with his large hand, "My loyalties hmm?" His deep voice sounds so very attractive right now, "Well my darling, I am confident to say that my loyalties lie directly with you, and that sweet little cunt between your legs that I can't wait to get properly acquainted with tonight."

Soarynn turns the brightest shade of pink and shoves him, "Language!"

Coriolanus laughs at her flustered state, he’s always been one to enjoy using vulgar language in the bedroom and it always manages to rile her up whether she likes it or not. But to be on the giving end of such words makes her nervous.

Soarynn has a very limited set of words and phrases that she uses in the bedroom such as: ‘Please’, ‘Oh, please’, ‘Thank you’, ‘Please let me cum’, ‘Oh, right there’, and ‘Oh, that feels so good Coryo’.

Coriolanus on the other hand has a whole plethora of things to whisper in her ear while they roll around in the sheets. Most of which are so nasty that she can hardly believe that he’s the same man who addresses the entire nation with inspiring speeches and levels of maturity.

Two sides to each coin she supposes.

They spend the rest of the car ride sharing kisses and words of devotion with one another all while Coriolanus remains insistent on trying to sneak his hands under the skirt of her dress but it's a very large skirt and he's underestimated his abilities to get in her pants so to speak.

By the time they arrive at the Nightingale townhouse, Coriolanus is ready to rip the dress off of her entirely. He's so very impatient in everything he does from opening the car door to helping Soarynn out of the car. She herself is in no rush and takes her time walking up the paved pathway leading up to her front door while Coriolanus fumbles to unlock it.

Soarynn and Eudora had come to her childhood home last week to make sure everything was prepared for their short stay including the keys. "Is everything alright darling?" Soarynn asks once she reaches a struggling Coriolanus at the door, resting a hand on his shoulder, "Perfectly fine," he answers through gritted teeth while trying to unlock the door.

Soarynn sighs heavily for added effect, "It's terribly cold out here Coryo, are you set on freezing your wife already?"

The look he gives her goes straight to Soarynn's core but she continues her verbal assault while he continues to fumble with the door, "I thought husbands were supposed to have everything taken care of," she says, scratching at the spot where his golden curls start to grow, his favorite spot for her to touch when they're in bed, "but maybe I'm just too young and naive to understand marriage."

Coriolanus finally gets the door unlocked and shoves it open with his foot while grabbing Soarynn by the arm and pulls her inside. The moment he shuts the door, he's all over her. His hands around her waist while his lips worship her own in a heated, heavy kiss.

He works his way from her lips to her jawline, sucking on the delicate skin, "Coryo," she gasps, "Coryo no marks." Coriolanus groans against her skin and brings one hand around her neck, gently squeezing it while pressing Soarynn against the front door, "The wedding is over," he says hoarsely, "which means you're all mine now darling and I intended on leaving a mark or two."

Soarynn's eyes flicker with excitement and she nods towards the grand staircase, "What're you waiting for then?"

Coriolanus smirks, pressing one more chaste kiss to her lips before bending down and picking Soarynn up bridal-style. She lets out a shriek and quickly wraps her arms around his neck when he starts towards the stairs, "Coryo! I can walk up the stairs you know."

Coriolanus chuckles and begins climbing the marble staircase, ignoring her looks and words of protest, "I know darling, but it's tradition for a man to carry his bride to their room and we both know that I'm a man who values tradition." He is indeed.

Soarynn can only roll her eyes and rest her head on his shoulder while he continues climbing and she must admit, it's very attractive how easily he can carry her and the dress as if they weigh nothing to him.

When they finally reach the top, Coriolanus gives a triumphant sigh, "I honestly have no idea where to go from here," he admits and they both laugh. Coriolanus might be familiar with the first floor, but the second floor of the Nightingale townhouse is a mystery to him. But not to Soarynn, "Down the hall," she kicks her foot in the general direction, "second door to the left."

Coriolanus strides down the dark hallway, the hallway that Soarynn spent her entire childhood running up and down. The doors at the very end lead to her parent's room, a room that's remained untouched since her father's death.

Coriolanus manages to open her bedroom doors without dropping her, revealing her own bedroom, ready for the newlywed couple. Soarynn had sprinkled some rose petals on the sheets when she and Eudora came to check on everything and she's pleased with the atmosphere it's created.

Coriolanus gently sets her back down but not without peppering her face with kisses first, making Soarynn giggle, "You're such a flirt," she purrs, resting a hand on his smoothly shaven cheek. Coriolanus winks at her, "Only for you."

The two soak it all in for a moment, their wedding, the fact that they're now married, and most importantly, the fact that they're about to have sex for the first time.

"I should take off my shoes," she whispers, unwrapping herself from her husband and walking over to her bed. Soarynn sits on the bench at the foot of her bed, a spot that Petunia loves to lounge on and she watches Coriolanus curiously look around her room. The last time a Snow was in her room was when she was hired again and had to pack up her things with the children.

Coriolanus displays a similar level of curiosity as the children while looking at her room. It's a rather large room with two doors by her bed leading out to the balcony. Coriolanus takes his time looking at every photograph on the walls, reaching up to touch some of them.

Soarynn smiles at the sweet sight, she'd like to think that she brings out a younger side of him, sweeter and gentler.

She slips off her shoes with a relieved sigh, those heels were killing her. Soarynn looks around her room as well, everything the same way as she left it but she's about to leave this room very differently. A woman.

Soarynn takes Coriolanus poking around her things as an opportunity to unzip her dress, feeling even more relieved now that the tight bodice is no longer holding her in. Soarynn ever so carefully steps out of the dress pooled around her legs, making sure not to trip over any of the tulle. Tigris mentioned putting it in a box to preserve it and Eudora said there was a possibility of it being in a museum.

It'll be on the floor until further notice.

Soarynn takes a quick look at herself in her vanity mirror's reflection, admiring the lingerie she chose to wear for her wedding night. With the dress being strapless, that meant her bralette would have to be as well. It's entirely made up of intricate lace patterns, all while pushing up her breasts in a tasteful manner. Her panties are also white lace with little frills on the sides and a rose in the very center of the waistband, almost like a bow on a present.

Soarynn hadn't wanted to go too overboard with the lingerie, not when she knew that Coriolanus would rip it off in a matter of seconds.

"Your room is very charming," he says, turning around to face her, and Soarynn drinks in every second of his slacked jaw once he lays eyes on her. It's not every day that one gets to see a speechless Coriolanus Snow but Soarynn isn't just anyone. No, she's Mrs. Snow, the First Lady of Panem.

"I'm also quite charming," she replies, clasping her hands behind her back, "in case you forgot."

Coriolanus swallows down the lump in his throat and quickly shakes his head, "No, no, not at all darling, I could never forget how beautiful...how charming you are!"

Soarynn smiles at his flustered behavior and holds a hand out to him, "I'm ready," she tells him, her tone soft and gentle. Coriolanus needn't be told twice, he crosses the room in seconds and his hands immediately come to rest on her waist, "You look magnificent," he mumbles while kissing her shoulder, "if I knew this was under that dress then I would've ripped it off of you the second you started walking down the aisle."

Soarynn gives him a playful shove, scoffing when he smirks, "Are you even capable of saying anything without throwing in such vulgar phrases?"

Coriolanus shrugs, not at all ashamed of his behavior, "No, you'll find I'm rather hopeless when it comes to being alone with you in the bedroom."

Soarynn hums and slides her hands up his chest, resting them on his broad shoulders, "Well I'd say that you're terribly overdressed for an event such as this one," she whispers.

Soarynn helps him take off his suit jacket, also discarding it on the floor while he works on kicking off his black leather shoes. It's both of them fumbling in the dark while trying to kiss each other and get Coriolanus undressed but they manage it quite well. Soarynn goes to unbutton his shirt but she must be taking too long for his liking because Coriolanus just rips it clean down the middle, sending buttons flying everywhere.

"Your shirt," she gasps against his lips.

His hands slide down to her ass, squeezing it, "You like me shirtless," he mumbles, going for his belt next.

Coriolanus gives her a gentle shove and Soarynn falls onto the bed, completely breathless and all they've done is kiss so far. She pops up on her elbows and watches Coriolanus slide his belt out of the belt loops, tossing it onto the floor with a clatter. He looks so handsome, so deliciously large and big in every way possible. His eyes never leave hers as he unzips his pants, sliding them down to show her just how much he really wants her.

Soarynn whimpers at the sight of his cock straining in his boxers. She's well acquainted with how big he feels in her mouth and in her hands but losing her virginity is something else entirely.

Coriolanus grabs her ankle and pulls her to the edge of the bed, causing her to fall back onto her back with a sharp gasp. He leans down over her, resting a hand by her head while his lips capture hers in a very excited kiss. His teeth tug at her bottom lip and his other hand slides down her stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind it.

Soarynn whimpers and wiggles in his touch, causing Coriolanus to crawl onto the bed, resting his knees on either side of her body so he can fully be on top of her while kissing her. Soarynn gives into the kiss wholeheartedly, running her fingers through his golden curls.

His fingers run over her covered cunt, ghosting over her clit before sliding back down to do it all over again. Soarynn moans impatiently, bucking into his head for more contact, more direct contact. Coriolanus fucking laughs into the kiss, teasing her for being so impatient as if he wasn't trying to get her naked in the car.

"Coriolanus," she whispers, tightening her grip on his curls.

He groans into the kiss, "Yes?"

"Hurry up and make love to me."

Soarynn's vulgar yet direct words do something to Coriolanus and spur him into action. He sits up on his knees, looming over her while bringing both hands to her lace panties, admiring them and the details, "A rose," he murmurs, slipping his fingers under the waistband so very slowly, "how cute."

He gently goes to pull down her panties and Soarynn is more than happy to lift up her hips to speed up the process. He slips them off of her ankles and tosses them behind him, long forgotten already. Soarynn watches with bated breath as he pries her legs open with his large hands, his bright blue eyes looking down at her most intimate parts with no shame whatsoever.

"So pretty like always," he says, grabbing her right leg and pulling it up into the air, kissing her thigh, "and so flexible for me."

Soarynn whines, already so flustered and ready to go and yet he's insistent on torturing her. "Coryo," she whimpers, "hurry up." He shoots her a stern look, shaking his head and laying her leg back down, "I'd say I deserve to take my time with you tonight," he tells her, slipping a hand between her legs. Soarynn gasps when she feels his long fingers slipping between her wet folds, "Oh, please."

"Tonight, I plan on making love to you," he tells her, "but tomorrow morning," his lips twist up into a cocky grin, "I plan on fucking you so hard that the only thing you'll remember is my name."

If Soarynn wasn't wet before, she's fucking soaked now.

Soarynn bucks into his hand, desperate to feel something inside of her even though she doesn't know what that feels like yet. She's going to find out very soon. Coriolanus pulls his hand away from her cunt, earning him an annoyed whine from Soarynn which he ignores while grabbing her knees with both hands, pushing them up to her chest, exposing all of her to him.

"You really do have a perfect cunt Soarynn."

Soarynn can only watch as he leans down and begins lapping at her cunt as if he's starving. Soarynn moans, stuck with nowhere to go while her husband eats her out like she's his last meal. Her eyes roll back when she feels his tongue on her clit, using the tip of his tongue to truly pinpoint her most sensitive bud.

"Oh fuck," she whimpers, grasping at the sheets.

Soarynn grinds her cunt against his face, moaning loudly when his nose bumps her clit. He's always had such a nice big nose and she has yet to sit on it.

Coriolanus doesn't let up on her cunt, licking it up and down, side to side, biting her clit from time to time while he brings her closer and closer to her peak. Soarynn is almost there, her moans grow higher in pitch, and then...

He pulls away.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She snaps, glaring up at him and his arrogant smirk, "I would never kid about fucking you," he smoothly answers, letting go of her knees, "in fact, I'd say it's about time that I fucked you, darling."

He finally goes to pull down his boxers and Soarynn watches his cock spring out from its confinement, red at the tip, long in length and girthy. It might hurt the more that she looks at it.

Coriolanus gets out of his boxers and taps her hip, shaking her from her thoughts about the pain, "Up onto the pillows darling," he instructs her. Soarynn looks up at her headboard where all her fluffy pillows are waiting for her to lay her head down on them, "It seems so far," she mumbles, not really wanting to move. Coriolanus rolls his eyes, and grabs her the waist, picking her up and throwing her to the top of the bed in seconds.

Soarynn squeals once she lands, "That was rude."

Coriolanus chuckles, shaking his head, "It's my fault for letting you become such a pillow princess." Soarynn gasps at the statement, the very true statement but that's beside the point. "I am nothing of the sort," she insists, ignoring the look he gives her, "you simply need to be in control all the time."

Coriolanus grunts and crawls on top of her, resting his hands on either side of her head, caging her in, "I think you like it though," he says lowly, causing her to squeeze her thighs together, "I think you like it when I tell you what to do Soarynn."

"Maybe," she answers in a shaky voice. He grins and presses a kiss to her forehead, "I like it too, I like everything about you."

Soarynn's eyes widen when she feels his knee pushing her legs apart, "Well...well that's good since we're married and all that," she mumbles, suddenly feeling very, very nervous and inexperienced.

Coriolanus picks up on it immediately and adopts a kinder, softer tone, "Yes it is. And that means I get the privilege of being trusted by you to take your virginity, which I plan to do with the utmost care."

She lets out a small sigh of relief, she's never doubted Coriolanus and his ability to be gentle, not when she's seen him with the children. but the bedroom is a different thing, a different mindset.

"Okay," she whispers, staring into his blue eyes, "I'm ready."

Coriolanus leans down to kiss her and this time the kiss is sweet and gentle, patient and kind, not pushy or aggressive like other kisses that they've shared in the past.

"I love you," he says against her lips, slipping his fingers into her carefully styled hair that will be a mess by the end of the night, "no matter what I love you Soarynn."

His words mean more to her than he'll ever know.

"I love you too," she says, not at all afraid to say it anymore. There was a time when she'd only say it when the time was right, when neither of them had dealt with a stressful day and they were lying in the warm bathwater, when everything felt right in the world.

But she's since left that mindset behind, saying it whenever she feels like it.

And she's never felt more in love in her entire life than right now, safely under him.

They stay like that for a while, sharing sweet and patient kisses with one another, not at all in a rush to do what they've both been thinking about for so long. Soarynn is so caught up in the moment that she doesn't even register the tip of his cock brushing against her folds until Coriolanus lets out a low, timber groan. "Oh," she gasps, resting her hands on his shoulders, bracing herself for the inevitable pain of losing one's virginity.

"Tell me if it hurts," he sternly instructs her, resting his forehead against her own. Soarynn can only nod, at a loss for words while experiencing this new sensation. Coriolanus is large all over, not one part of him is small and while it's been very attractive so far, it does pose the difficulty of her first time.

But Coriolanus is slow while pushing in and Soarynn gasps when she feels the tip of his cock brushing against her walls, a new sensation that she welcomes wholeheartedly. She's heard many a tale from her friends about how it feels, how addictive it can become. She never believed them until now.

"Fuck Soarynn," he grits out, "so fucking tight."

Soarynn whimpers as more of him pushes in, the feeling is overwhelming and she has nowhere to go. She squirms under him to try and find a more comfortable position and Coriolanus lets out a strained moan, "Don't," he pants, "don't move yet darling." Soarynn looks up at his face and she can see just how hard he's trying to be gentle, how he's having to actively restrain himself from fucking her as hard as he can.

There seems to be a bump to get over figuratively speaking and Coriolanus gets over it with one sharp jab of his hips, sending waves of pain and pleasure throughout Soarynn's body. She gasps, her back arches off the bed as he fully sinks into her.

Soarynn is no longer a virgin.

"You okay?"

Soarynn closes her eyes while getting used to the foreign feeling of having Coriolanus inside of her, "Mhm."

"Because if something hurts you need to tell me."

Soarynn's toes curl when he slightly leans forward, pushing the tip of his cock against her sweet spot, a spot she didn't even know existed until now, "I know," she mumbles, finding the courage to open her eyes again. Coriolanus is already looking down at her with a fond look in his eyes, a look filled with adoration as if she's the single most important thing in his life.

"I'm fine," she whispers, scratching behind his ear, "perfectly so."

He gives her a lazy smile and leans down to kiss her lips, staying perfectly still which must be quite difficult where his own pleasure is concerned but he doesn't push her at all, "Well you feel amazing," he mumbles against her lips, "we might have to do this every night."

Soarynn laughs, they haven't even moved yet and he's already addicted. No matter how mature or important Coriolanus is, he's a man at the end of the day and Soarynn has learned that for the most part, all men want the same thing.

Sex.

"You can move," she tells him, the pain ebbing away slowly. He gives her a questioning look but Soarynn won't have any of it, they've waited this long. She wraps her left leg around his torso, resting her heel on his back to encourage him which leads him to slide even further inside of her, causing them both to moan, "Please," she breathes, "please Coryo, make love to me."

Coriolanus hums, kissing her once more before slowly dragging his cock out, slowly and teasingly before thrusting back into her. He's figuring out the pace and Soarynn is figuring out what this feels like but sex is something she's never felt before. Coriolanus has gone down on her before but nothing compares to them being connected like this.

She wonders if she's doing good, if she should be doing more. Coriolanus has always taken charge but perhaps he'd like her to take the reigns for once. "Is this okay?" She asks, moving her hips in tandem with his. Coriolanus moans and it sounds heavenly, low, and raspy, "Perfect," he groans, "you're perfect."

Coriolanus starts to move a little bit faster, not by much but enough to make a difference and Soarynn can feel the pleasure starting to take over. "Oh, my," she says, digging her nails into his skin, "oh, fuck."

It feels so fucking good. He's everywhere. Inside of her, on top of her, around her. Coriolanus Snow is an all-consuming entity.

He takes his time with her, whispering sweet phrases, kissing her softly while making her feel so good. Soarynn now understands why people are so crazy about sex, why they can't stop thinking about it. It's amazing that he's been able to wait this long to do this with her.

Coriolanus slips a hand between her legs and thumbs her clit, causing Soarynn to let out a high-pitched moan, "Right there," she tells him, "it feels so good Coryo." He keeps his pace steady and all that can be heard in her bedroom is the sound of skin on skin and heavy breathing.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, sitting up on his knees while continuing to make love to her, "so perfect for me." He grabs her hips and it's a whole new angle, a mind-blowing one at that. Soarynn sees stars as he thrusts into her, he feels so good, so big, there's a slight burn every time he pushes into her but she welcomes the stretch.

"Please," Soarynn whimpers, looking up at her husband, "please, please, please."

"Please what?"

Soarynn attempts to give him a nasty look but Coriolanus only laughs in response, "Telling me what you want is the least you can do," he tells her. He has a point. Soarynn hasn't so much as lifted a finger since they got to the bedroom but she's always been more reserved when it comes to pillow talk.

"Please make me cum," she moans, arching her back for added effect and it seems to work on Coriolanus who switches his pace from slow and measured to slow and deep, making her feel every inch of his cock.

"Fuck Soarynn, you feel so good."

Soarynn thinks they might have sex every single day for the rest of their lives. Maybe even twice a day if they wake up early enough. She wouldn't mind. She'd be terribly sore but she wouldn't mind.

She can feel that wire inside of her starting to tighten, threatening to break and send her over the edge. "I'm close," she whines, grabbing the sheets, "Coryo, please."

Even buried deep inside of her, Coriolanus looks so handsome, so strong, and in control of the situation. He brings his hand back to her clit and Soarynn moans, it all feels like too much, she can feel herself going off the edge, so, so close.

Soarynn's orgasm takes over her entire body when she cums. Her eyes roll back and her back bends off the bed as if she's a puppet on his strings. Soarynn can't even say a single word that makes sense while Coriolanus swears under his breath, praising her for taking him so well. She doesn't even realize that he's finishing right behind her until her walls start to flutter around him again and she feels his cum dripping onto the bed and her thighs.

Coriolanus collapses on top of her, carefully so he doesn't crush her but still close enough to lay butterfly kisses against her neck. Soarynn is wide-eyed while she stares at the ceiling, mindlessly running her fingers through his curls. That was amazing, better than she could have ever imagined.

Coriolanus wraps his arms around her waist and slowly maneuvers them so that he's lying on his back and she's the one on top, still inside of her but soft now. Soarynn rests her head on his chest, exhausted from today's events and tonight's grand finale.

Coriolanus drags his fingers up and down her back and she can feel him fumbling with the clasp of her bralette. He manages to unhook it on the third try and he pulls it off of her, throwing it somewhere to the right. Soarynn relishes the feeling of her breasts against his bare chest, skin on skin.

She can feel his breathing slow down, his heart rate returning to normal while he continues rubbing her back while his other hand grabs hers, lacing their fingers together.

"What a day," he mumbles, his voice laced with sleepiness. Soarynn hums, perfectly content to lie here for the rest of their lives, "That was amazing," she mumbles against his skin and she feels his chest rumble as he laughs. "I had a feeling that you'd like it," he replies, resting his hand on her lower back, "just wait until tomorrow morning, then you'll never be able to get enough."

Soarynn sighs, a life filled with laughter and morning sex sounds perfectly wonderful in her mind. She's a married woman now so those things can be expected. His hand slips out of her hand and slides down her arm, stopping when he reaches the small scar on her bicep, still fading from when she got her birth control implant removed two weeks ago.

Soarynn had been terribly nervous about having the procedure done but she didn't want anything to stop her from getting pregnant. "Maybe I'm already pregnant," she throws out, hoping to manifest a healthy baby inside of her as soon as possible. Coriolanus shifts from under her and drapes the blankets over their naked bodies, "I don't want you pressuring yourself," he tells her sternly, kissing the top of her head, "these things take time darling."

Soarynn merely nods in response, too tired to fight him on the possibility of getting pregnant on their wedding night. But it could happen, she hopes it'll happen sooner than later. She can feel her eyes growing heavy while her breathing syncs to his, in and out, slow and steady.

Happy and loved.

꧁ ꧂

When Soarynn wakes, she's in her childhood bedroom.

It takes her a few seconds to remember how she got here, what happened the day before. She carefully lifts her head off of the pillow, looking down at her sleeping husband. Coriolanus is lying on his side, one arm is slung over her waist while the other is under the pillow her head was lying on. Soarynn doesn't remember anything after falling asleep, doesn't remember if he washed them off or took her makeup off.

She gently places a hand on his cheek, rubbing her thumb back and forth over his porcelain skin, admiring how handsome he looks even while in a deep slumber. His curls are tussled from last night and his lips are slightly parted.

It's hard to believe that he's the President of Panem at only twenty-six.

Soarynn shifts on her side and she feels incredibly sore from the waist down, especially between her legs. Soarynn lifts the sheets and stares down at their tangled legs before lowering the sheets again and her eyes focus on the red stain in the middle of the duvet. She lost her virginity last night. Coriolanus hadn't said anything about the blood but she's sure he was pleased at the confirmation that she wasn't lying about being a virgin.

Soarynn had heard stories about men who were required to report back to their families if their wives bled on their wedding night, a horrifying tradition to Soarynn who sleeps well knowing that Coriolanus doesn't speak of their sexual encounters with anyone. What happens in their bedroom, stays in their bedroom.

Soarynn reaches up to feel that her hair is still somewhat in its perfectly styled bun from last night but Coriolanus has a tendency to ruin any makeup or hairdos when they're rolling around in the sheets. Soarynn sits up, careful not to wake up Coriolanus as she swings her legs over the side of the bed and slowly stands up. Her legs slightly shake and she just knows that he'd be teasing her if he was awake.

Soarynn limps over to her vanity, grabbing his white button-up shirt on the way so that she's not entirely naked. Soarynn takes in her appearance once she's sat in front of the mirror and gasps, her makeup is smudged from sleeping in it and her hair is a rat's nest. She opens the vanity drawer and fishes around for a makeup wipe and a hair brush.

She takes her makeup off first, sighing at the fresh feeling of a bare face. Then she goes to tackle her hair which takes a lot more effort and skill than removing her makeup. There are so many pins in her bun and every time she thinks she's found the last one, she finds another one. Soarynn finally yanks her hair out of the thick hairbands holding it up and a wave of relief washes over her now that she's free from the tight updo.

Soarynn runs the brush through her hair, smoothing out any frizzy pieces while humming to herself. She feels so fucking sore right now and if Coriolanus is a man of his word, then she's going to be even more sore before breakfast. She looks back over at her sleeping husband, tuckered out from sex and getting married.

Then she looks down at her bare thighs and swallows at the sight of dried blood and...something else on her inner thigh. She shakes her head at the sight of it, looks like Coriolanus was too tired to wash either of them off last night. That's alright though, it means that they get to shower together once he wakes up.

She tucks some of her hair behind her ears and stands back up, padding over to his side of the bed where his back is bared to her. Maybe she'll cover it with scratches before the morning is over. He's mentioned in the past how much he loves her long nails on his skin.

Soarynn prides herself in having nice long nails, always painted in a light pearly pink shade, the same shade as her toenails. She's proud of her soft hair and perfectly groomed body. Coriolanus has never mentioned a distaste for body hair but Soarynn prefers to keep her body as hairless as possible, even if that means sharing and waxing regularly.

Soarynn climbs onto the bed after taking off the shirt and slings one leg over his side, somewhat straddling him, "Coryo," she says softly, poking his bicep, "wake up."

No response.

Soarynn huffs, he's usually up by now, already at work but today is a special day and Soarynn doesn't want it to go to waste. So she resorts to a more aggressive method of waking up her husband.

Tickling.

She slips her hand under his armpit and begins her assault, getting her immediate results when his eyes fly open from the sensation he despises. "Hey!" He shouts, still half-asleep while trying to push her off, "Wake up," she giggles, trying to slip her other hand under his arm as well but he catches onto her plan and uses his strength to grab her by the waist and tickle her instead.

Soarynn shrieks with laughter, falling back over to her side while he continues tickling her stomach with no signs of stopping, "Not so fun when the roles are reversed hmm?" He says into her ear, his voice is so low and scratchy in the morning and Soarynn already feels something stirring in her gut.

Soarynn attempts to throw her weight back into him to shove him off but her attempts are futile and Coriolanus easily pins her down to her stomach, using a hand on the small of her back to keep her down while he moves around behind her.

Soarynn struggles in his grip, trying to push herself up but it's no use, Coriolanus will always be stronger than her, a usually terrifying thought where women are concerned but Soarynn has always felt safe with him.

She manages to push her chest off of the bed and looks over her shoulder at her husband who's on his knees, wearing that cocky smirk and her eyes widen at the sight of his cock, hard and ready to be inside of her again, "I believe I promised to fuck you didn't I?" He croons, his tone domineering and sultry.

Soarynn can only nod in response and let him move her body however he wants it. He grabs her hips and hikes them into the air, leaving Soarynn with her ass up in the air and her back arched while her face is pressed into her pillow. Soarynn wiggles her hips in anticipation, if last night was him holding back, she can't wait to feel Coriolanus when he lets loose.

"I wish I could tell you how many times I've imagined you in this position darling," he says, rubbing the tip of his cock up and down her folds. Soarynn whines when the tip rubs against her clit and she can already feel the precum leaking from his cock, "Coryo," she moans, trying to move her hips but he stops her with a slap on the ass. "Be my good girl Soarynn and take it like you should," he tells her, lining up his cock with her entrance before pushing into her cunt.

They both moan at the sensation and her walls wrap around him instantly, "So tight," he says, rubbing her folds as they wrap around his length, "taking me so well, just like you should angel. And you were so good for me last night, bled on my cock just like I knew you would."

His vulgar words make Soarynn's eyes roll back and she moans into the pillow, her walls tremble around him. It feels so different, so much deeper while taking him from behind and she can already tell that he favors this position over any others.

Soarynn's toes curl when she feels him slide all the way in, pressing against her sweet spot in the most possessive way possible, "You look so perfect like this," he tells her, landing another slap to her ass, "giving yourself to me, face down and ass up. I pity the other men in the world who won't get to see this every day like I will."

Soarynn never knew Coriolanus could be so possessive over her but having sex has unlocked a new side of him that she's never experienced before.

"Please," she begs, pushing her hips back against his. They both moan when her ass presses against his hips, making her take every inch of his cock. Coriolanus tightens his grip on her hips and pulls his hips back before snapping them forward in one sharp jab and Soarynn gasps at the new feeling of being fucked from behind.

Coriolanus immediately picks up the pace, fucking her hard and fast while Soarynn moans into the pillows. She's screaming at this point from how good it feels, he's relentless, hitting the same spot every time with accuracy.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she moans, grabbing at anything she can find. Coriolanus seems to notice that and he leans over her and grabs her hands, pulling them behind her and holding them against her back, truly leaving her to his mercy.

"I knew you'd like it," he says, "like being my little slut. Does it feel good Soarynn? Does it feel good to know that you're mine now? That every night you'll be stuck on the President's cock like the good little First Lady that you are for me?"

Soarynn has tears in her eyes from the pleasure, she can't even come up with a string of coherent words right now, let alone answer his taunting question. He starts going even faster if that's possible and Soarynn is so past the point of pleasure right now, she's somewhere in the middle of life and death from how hard he's fucking her.

"Taking me so well," he praises with a raspy voice, "you look so pretty like this, can't even use that pretty little head of yours to think can you angel?" Soarynn whimpers and tries to lift up her head to answer him but she fails miserably and falls back into the pillow, her moans muffled. He's right about one thing, she doesn't have a single thought in her pretty little head. He's consumed her every breath, all she can think about is Coriolanus Snow.

But then she feels it, that wonderful sensation that means she's about to reach her peak. She got here much quicker than she did last night but he's also moving much quicker than last night too.

Soarynn can't even speak, only moans leave her mouth as she cums, her walls flutter around his cock while he thrusts into her at a punishing pace. It's fucking mind-numbing and he's not even done yet.

"Good girl," he says, slipping a hand down to her clit, rubbing it in tight circles despite how sensitive she is from her orgasm, "now give me one more."

Soarynn sobs into the pillow, she can't even think let alone give him another orgasm.

"I...I can't," she cries, struggling in his hold.

Coriolanus fucks her even harder and faster, "You can and you will," he tells her, "my good girl always does what she'd told, doesn't she Soarynn?"

He's using her weaknesses against her, her need to be perfect, to always be good for him and it's about to make her cum again so maybe he's onto something here.

Her walls start to flutter again, that wire inside of her is insanely tight while he rubs her clit and fucks her, all she can hear are her muffled whimpers and his groans of pleasure before she tumbles over the edge again, this time with a silent scream while her body goes limp in his hold. Soarynn can't speak, can't breathe as her orgasm hits her like a truck, she feels something trickle down her leg, did she squirt?

She can't even find it in herself to care right now.

Coriolanus continues to fuck her and she can feel his thrusts stuttering a telltale sign that he's close as well. Soarynn can only lie there and take it when he finishes deep inside of her, coating her walls with his cum. Coriolanus lets out a deep, throaty moan and pushes her back further into the mattress, "Just like that," he pants, "take me just like that Soarynn."

Soarynn is in a state of bliss while Coriolanus continues to talk to her, not hearing a single thing he says while she drifts off into a headspace she's never been in before. She can feel him lifting up her hips as he pulls out of her, she feels strangely empty without him inside of her. Soarynn can feel his fingers pulling apart her folds and she hears him swear under his breath at the sight of her cunt filled with his cum, a sight he probably would love to see every day if he could.

Soarynn sighs and her entire body slumps forward, the sleep taking over her body as her eyes drift shut. The last thing she hears is Coriolanus murmuring a few words of praise while rubbing her back, "...such a good girl for me..."

Everything goes black.

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn must be dreaming. She feels like she's floating on air or drifting through water.

Then she feels something, a hand, someone's hand sliding down her stomach towards her thighs. She feels the hand touch her most intimate parts and she wakes with a start, gasping while the bathwater splashes around her.

Coriolanus sits in front of her, an amused look in his bright eyes, "I promise I'm only cleaning you off," he assures her, his lips twitch into a lazy grin and Soarynn immediately relaxes. She looks around her bathroom, noting how brightly the sun shines through the windows.

Did she fall asleep after they had sex in the morning?

"I...how long was I asleep?" She asks, rubbing her eyes in hopes of waking up faster. Coriolanus slides his hand down her leg, stopping once he reaches her ankle, "A couple hours," he says with a shrug, "I guess I fucked you a little too hard." Soarynn scoffs, splashing some water in his face which earns her a teasing laugh, "Hardly," she retorts even though they both know she's lying.

His grin turns into the smirk that she's associated with vulgar comments and touchiness and he pulls her towards him by her ankle until they're face to face, inches apart, "Guess what I learned about you today."

Soarynn doesn't know if she's going to like hearing his answer.

"What?" She asks, begrudgingly taking his bait. Coriolanus shows all his pearly white teeth when he smiles, "I learned that my darling little wife can squirt when I fuck her really well."

Soarynn groans and covers her face with her hands, mortified by his recent discovery. Coriolanus finds nothing wrong with this apparently and grabs her wrists tugging her hands away from her face, "Don't hide from me darling, I've only just begun discovering the wonders of your body."

Soarynn wants to drown. She might as well try. She sinks below the water and stays submerged for about five seconds before two strong hands pull her above the surface, "Face your fears," he says with a laugh, squeezing her waist so gently compared to how rough he was hours ago.

Soarynn squints at him through her water-covered lashes, "But I'm not afraid of you." His face softens and she swears she can see relief hidden in his eyes, "Well that's good, I don't ever want you to be afraid of me, or of being intimate with me." Soarynn bites her lip, she saw a whole new side of her husband today, rougher, louder, stronger. Not at all the Coriolanus she's come to know over the past year.

"I'm not," she tells him softly, truly meaning her words, "and it was good, the sex was good," she elaborates, her cheeks turning pink, "it felt good, all of it."

Coriolanus chuckles, brushing some of her wet hair out from her face before leaning in to press a soft gentle kiss to her lips, "I'm glad you enjoyed it. You did very well, you trusted me and trust is everything to me." Soarynn nods along to his words, trust is everything to her as well, without it, they wouldn't be here right now.

"Promise me one thing Soarynn," he starts, pulling her into his chest so she can rest her head against him. "Anything," she murmurs, sinking further into his strong grip, "anything at all."

He deeply sighs, dragging his fingers up and down her side, "Never lie to me. I can forgive a lot of things but I despise lying, the children can testify to that as well. Never ever lie to me and I promise to give you everything your precious heart desires."

His words sink deep within her soul. Soarynn doesn't really lie, she doesn't enjoy it and she's not very good at it but she can sense the urgency behind his voice. Perhaps Livia lied to him and it ended badly for them. Well, not that anything can be worse than death but still, it must mean a lot to him. Or maybe it was Lucy Gray who created his hatred for lying.

Either way, Soarynn doesn't plan on being dishonest with her husband.

"You have my word," she tells him, lifting her hand and holding out her pinky, "I'll only tell you the truth and nothing but the truth."

Coriolanus hums, resting his chin on top of her head as he wraps his pinky around hers, sealing the promise.

After that, they talk about small, insignificant things while Coriolanus washes them off, a perfectly domestic feeling.

Soarynn feels herself falling asleep again but she's not worried, for she has a husband who will take care of her and protect her. Mind, body, and soul.

| Part 13. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

{ Part 14. }

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @wonderlandbound111 @villiansarehottest @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @kickmybark @melodyoflovee |

[verdicloud]

more serious aspects of rum tum tugger

admittedly, i watch act 1 of cats wayyyyyy more than act 2. i’m not sure why, but it means i listen to “mr mistoffelees” a lot less, so it kinda slipped my mind that… rum tum tugger sings “mr mistoffelees”… 😬 but seriously watching and listening to it after a while of detox made me, weirdly, appreciate tugger’s character so much more than before.

if you don’t think tugger is a very complex character or someone worth delving into, let me offer this: we talk about john partridge being THE tugger, that he’s yet to have been surpassed or lived up to, and it’s true, but from what i’ve seen, i don’t think us fans get him quite right either. (not anyone specifically, just in a general sense.) and from what i’ve heard, other productions are great, but there’s just nothing quite like his 1998 film portrayal. i don’t just mean the swagger, but also the gravitas that he gives off. it was really lightning in a bottle. that’s how difficult it is to get his character truly right. (such is the case for a lot of cats in my opinion, but i’m being picky.)

(p.s. i meant this as in “it’s insanely difficult to capture john partridge’s essence”.)

…… yes, i know tugger is meant to be vain and rebellious and a sexy, indecisive flirt, and i do realise that the three words are just “in general” to help actors perform better, BUT, you cannot tell me that this description doesn’t water him down to a puddle :

his three words are apparently “vain, perverse, inconsequent”. “vain”? you mean the one whose first instinct was to call upon someone else more competent to help when old deut was in danger? the one who pleaded for the jellicles to listen to him, and gladly gave reasoning while hyping up misto, instead of just saying trust me bro? the one who is clearly extremely grateful and proud to be old deut’s son? and “perverse” is only true if they mean “contrary”. otherwise, his whole song shows him rejecting all the hot girls who all want him. “inconsequent”? firstly, i’m pretty sure that they’re using this word wrong. second, if they mean “not caring about consequences”, then tell that to the cat who stopped his entire party instantly just to alert the tribe of grizabella’s appearance. (and he clearly looks very disappointed when nobody liked his bagpipes gag!)

tugger is attractive, admired by many, influential, high-status and charismatic. yet, he only ever uses his prominence to do what’s best for the jellicles or what would make them happy, both individually and as a whole. in misto’s number, he steps up completely soberly when the jellicles need him the most. he hypes up misto because he knows his influence will make the cats believe in him. he gives the cats some much needed levity during times of crisis. he entertains etcetera, his biggest fan, like a singer inviting a child on stage and it shows that he cares.

i wanna talk about tugger’s design as well in terms of his character. tugger’s presence is the perfect balance of cool and warm. he is stylish and impressive, a self-assured and level-headed cat with an assertive aura, who easily keeps his composure, but at the same time, he’s inviting and open, a dutiful and shrewd cat with an incredible sense of humour, who is able to lift the hearts of those around him. this is reflected in his design, as his top half has a huge fluffy mane, but the rest of him is sleek black, yet done in a way that’s complimentary and not conflicting.

beneath the show-off, the swagger, and the sex appeal, he’s a mellow and mature tom cat who just loves to put on a good show and give the crowd exactly what they want. he’s just as serious and responsible and caring and full of love for his tribe as munkustrap is, while still being able to retain his thrilling and unruly side (which somehow makes him seem even more responsible, since he has the capacity to balance levity and soberness to the fullest extent).

people try to give him sad backstories or make him seem softer and that’s fine, but it’s a rare thing that we get such an ineffably complex and nuanced character without needing things like a drastic arc or sympathetic traits. through tugger, i’ve gained a newfound admiration for this sort of adamantine character, and this qualia of his shines through, however subtly, in every number he’s in.

i did my best, but my words probably don’t do him justice either. maybe during your next watch of cats, try to search for this feeling!

(and i think, in this way, he really embodies rock music so well. so fun and exciting and rebellious, but still able to sound so classic, solemn and heavy.)

[gavillain]

I was talking with @marciabrady the other night about ships and the aesthetics of our favorite couples, and it made me really want to do a break down of one of my obscure crossover OTPs:

Grimhilde/Cruella, a.k.a. EvilPuppies!

Because I feel like Grimhilde/Cruella, out of all my ships, looks the most like crack at first glance, but there is so much more to it than just sticking two random Disney Villains together.

So, first and foremost, I started shipping them because of Kingdom Keepers Book IV, Power Play:

Despite the fact that Frollo is on the cover of the book and was the heavily promoted new Overtaker before the release of the novel, the main villains of the novel are actually Grimhilde and Cruella. The premise is that after Maleficent and Chernabog were captured at the end of the previous book, the Disney Villains who are trying to take over the parks have had to take on new leadership to get Maleficent and Chernabog out of Imagineer-prison. Grimhilde is the next in the chain of command, so she's in charge and has Cruella De Vil as her companion who follows her everywhere. They are ALWAYS together in the book, and Cruella, naturally, has a very flirty and complimentary demeanor towards Grimhilde that the Queen naturally just adores. Their chemistry is great, and there is even one part where the main hero finds the two of them asleep together on an air mattress and a bundle of furs (it makes sense in context) and, well... yeah XD The novel really glued the two of them together in my head.

And that togetherness, as you can see above, blends over into the parks. Grimhilde and Cruella are the only two main Disney Villainesses who are out with some regularity as face characters in Disneyland. All of the villains in the Disney Parks have a familiarity with each other, and you can get similar gal pal dynamics with them and Maleficent (and Lady Tremaine) around Halloween time. However, because Grimhilde and Cruella are out together for so much of the year, they tend to carry the brunt of that sort of "evil besties" friendship, leading to cute photo op moments like this...

So Disney is already doing a lot of the leg work to make them come across as girlfriends and to give them chemistry and a ship dynamic. However, if that was all there was to it, I probably wouldn't love this ship as much as I do. I need that interesting and thought through layer of shipping, and thankfully, these two have it in spades.

So, despite being from different time periods and wildly different worlds, Grimhilde and Cruella are aristocrats through and through. Grimhilde is literally royalty, and Cruella an over-financed heiress to the remnants of England's aristocracy (and she's the head of a corporate fashion empire in the Glenn Close movies). The House of De Vil dates back to medieval times, and evidence of that extensive and wealthy history is littered all around Cruella's mansion.

Cruella is in essence, the remnants of an old world that no longer exists, one of royalty and station that Grimhilde herself was a part of, and though the times have changed, Cruella keeps that class and regality alive. In that way, I think it blends perfectly with her taking on a lover who is quite literally OF that time period, and it also helps tie Grimhilde in with the modern world, giving Grimhilde a sort of immortality and transcendence that I think she'd very much value with her desire to be eternally young and beautiful. And, along those same lines, they are both very strong examples of matriarchal authority and power with Cruella bemoaning the uselessness of men and the pitfalls of women losing themselves to marriage, whilst Grimhilde murdered her own husband in order to reign alone without a man over her. They fundamentally get the sort of twisted villainous feminism that they are peddling.

Next is the themes of beauty and glamor. These are two women who are fundamentally motivated by vanity - Cruella wants to design her original Dalmatian puppy coat and stun the art world with her ruthless originality whilst Grimhilde wants to kill her stepdaughter so that she can reign as the Fairest One of All. For them, beauty and aesthetics are absolute, and they share a willingness to buy their glamorous ambitions with the blood of the innocent. They would fundamentally GET each other in that regard. However, and this is important, they GET that same motivation for vanity, but they don't COMPETE with each other. Cruella is a pretty woman, but she's older and she's a chain smoker whose habits have caused her to become a bit emaciated. She's beautiful in her own way, but she's never going to rival Grimhilde as the Fairest One of All. Likewise, though Grimhilde has extravagant fashions and jewelry, she's not setting out to be at the forefront of clothing design and art. She would certainly WEAR outfits Cruella designed for her, but she wouldn't want to supplant Cruella either. They're going to make the world kneel before their beauty, but they're going to compliment each other rather than rival each other or have to set aside their vanities for each other.

Then one of the big important elements that makes this ship appeal to me so much is the motif of DUALITY. Cruella is noteworthy for her hair that is half-black and half-white. It's her signature style, she's well known for it, it ties in with the black and white dogs, and it ties in with how she has her likable and admirable public face but also her sinister and dark side that the rest of the world doesn't see. Grimhilde also has the duality motif. Hell, she has BLACK HAIR as the Queen and WHITE hair as the hag, and the whole black and white motif shows up in her potions ("Black of Night" and "To Whiten My Hair, a Scream of Fright"). Grimhilde literally has two faces and two forms. She is two villainesses in one, which is such a tasty match for the woman with infamously two-toned hair. And what I like about that too is that Cruella BLENDS with both the Queen and the Hag. With the queen, she has the aristocratic and blue blood regality and beauty that I mentioned before, but with the hag, she has the cackling maniacal bloodthirsty side that would have an absolute riot bringing death to innocents. It's so symbolic, and they're the only Disney villains who have that duality motif in that fashion.

And the fact that they have all of these interesting parallels and motifs while also being from two different worlds and two different time periods (medieval and modern) is a lot of fun purely from a crossover perspective but also as ANOTHER manifestation of their duality motif! And THAT is the type of tasty shipping fuel that I LIVE for!

So with Grimhilde and Cruella being of two different time periods, they also simultaneously coexist in one time period. Cruella in the original animated film may have been released in the 1960s, but her animator, Marc Davis, designed her to be a throwback to the old Hollywood glamor of the 1930s. Most specifically Tallulah Bankhead...

And Marlene Dietrich...

Cruella is pure Old Hollywood 1930s glamor trapped in a late 50s/early 60s modern domestic setting. And you know whose movie was made in the 1930s and has a very 1930s cultural aesthetic to it?

And Grimhilde herself is designed based on ANOTHER 1930s film villainess, She (Who Must Be Obeyed):

A movie that was famous for its Art Deco sets, and Art Deco is one of the main aesthetic motifs attributed to Cruella in the Glenn Close movies. So stylistically speaking, the two of them despite coming from different time periods and different worlds coexist in a way that is very old Hollywood. And with that combined link to the 30s, it helps the two of them to coexist peacefully and harmoniously in the same time period. They meet in this glamorous and mythologized liminal space. Heck, with Cruella's aesthetic links to the 1930s, I personally headcanon that she grew up absolutely obsessed with old Hollywood and making a concentrated effort to emulate that energy in her own style. Since Grimhilde is kind of an Old Hollywood character come to life, it's almost like Cruella can be a fangirl of something that she's admired for her whole life when she gets with Grimhilde, and you know Grimhilde is gonna LOVE that attention.

In addition, I personally like to be very cognizant about my ships with regards to what the individual character is going to look for in terms of a romantic partner and why the character that I've chosen for them suits that specific need. With Grimhilde, we know that she was married to Snow White's father and that she killed him, so we know that she didn't have any real love for that man, possibly any man. She rules over her kingdom alone and doesn't want anyone to rule beside her. In the Snow White comics and deleted scenes from the film, she showcases a sort of romantic rivalry for Prince Florian, but her affections for him are never about wanting an equal. She wants him because he is young and handsome and compliments her beauty and elevates her image in a way that helps give her more power through her beauty. So for Grimhilde, she needs a lover who can fill that niche - not someone to rival her or rule beside her, but someone who can be a perfect accessory to her beauty. Cruella being all about fashion and style is absolutely that person. She's very cognizant of appearances and what can accentuate or take away from beauty and aesthetics. That inherent utility to their relationship means that it would be something that Grimhilde would be open to indulging, and from there deeper feelings can develop under the right circumstances in a way that they wouldn't without having that utility first.

So that's Grimhilde's side of things. But what about Cruella? Well, we see Cruella's relation with love mostly revolving around this sort of one sided attraction that she has to Anita. And at first glance that seems contradictory to her getting with the queen, because Cruella is obviously going after a dainty and demure woman who she can kind of steamroll and collect as another fashion accessory. However, I think what makes this work so well is that it really showcases that Cruella has an attraction to traditional feminine beauty and women in general, and Grimhilde is of course is the fairest woman of all. The Glen Close movie adds an interesting dynamic to Cruella's attraction to Anita in that she enjoys the creative interaction that she has with Anita. Never really noticed Anita until the two of them started to collaborate creatively, and I feel like that's a big thing that Cruella needs and wants in a partner, someone who engages that creative side of her brain and understands her drive for aesthetics and beauty. And, as previously stated, who better to do that than the Queen of beauty herself? Grimhilde is a perfect model of unlimited dramatic creativity wrapped in a feminine and beautiful package that would set Cruella's heart ablaze.

Together the two of them fulfill that perfect niche for each other and foster a creative, beautiful, and bloodthirsty ruthless energy that would make them feel seen and supported. They effectively create their own little world of 1930s fantasy glamor when they come together, and that's just beautiful to me.

Those are the biggies, but some other really fun pieces of shipping fuel: *I love the aesthetic they have with them both being tall women with dramatic almost drag queen makeup and outfits that have tones of black, white, and red in their own signature styles. And Cruella has the flowing fur coat with the red liner and Grimhilde has the flowing cape with the red liner and so they can be very flouncy and twirly with their styles. *Grimhilde keeps a royal huntsman who can kill all of the animals for Cruella whenever she wants. *They both have similar structures to their stories - they start out on friendly or familial terms with the protagonists before they show their true colors, then they entrust men to kill the innocent creatures needed to enact their plan but those men fail them, forcing Grimhilde and Cruella to take matters into their own hands, and then the finales showcase them both transforming into frightening demented versions of themselves (old hag and crazy demon eyes Cruella during the car chase) madly pursuing their goals until they ultimate bring about their own defeats by the environment turning against them *Cruella has the green smoke of her cigarette which echoes the green and smoke of the Magic Mirror, and also Cruella's chain smoking being a sort of poison in and of itself links back nicely to Grimhilde's literal poisons. *OUAT gives Cruella magic powers and ties to the Author, and Grimhilde also has magic powers and is a literal storybook villain.

So, yes, at first glance, EvilPuppies may seem like just a crackship, but it's really not. There is SO much here in both their canon interactions and in their numerous parallels, and there are honestly probably even more that I'm forgetting. They are the crowning queens of femslash for me for good reason, and I adore them, darlings!

[yellowbunnydreams]

Bunny Punk (Part 1)~Punk!William Afton x F!Reader~

~So this started out as a concept, then turned into a one-shot, then I got to a point and thought to myself 'This is a series isn't it?' Thanks to @ruh--roh-raggy for putting up with my bullshit and proofing some of this story. I don't know how long this story will be, but I can imagine it might be one of my shorter series.~

CW: 18+ MINORS DNI, mention of scars, body and face piercings (inc, tongue, reference to others), tattooed!reader, punk!William, tattooed!Afton, age gap (Reader 20's, William 40's)

You sighed as you looked around the party going on in your college's gymnasium, filled with people perhaps double or so your age and the occasional peer who looked as bored as yourself, milling about and laughing as shitty music played in the background that you weren't even sure of the name of. Glancing at the sign strung over the doorway, you cursed yourself internally, wishing you hadn't signed up to help with this reunion event as you could have been doing much better things with your time. Like working on the million and one assignments that you felt like you had. Or perhaps simply just sleeping and procrastinating on those assignments.

The oversized black hoodie that you'd somehow convinced the dean of your department to let you wear sported some black embroidered gears along the sleeves, your nickname from your club printed over your left breast. Hair tied up and a tight pair of jeans, the cleanest you could find in the pile of washing that moved between your bed and a chair as required, never quite making it to the wardrobe.

Seeing the free food and drink table that was technically for the guests of the event, you bit your lip as you decided to go and visit it. What harm would taking a few snacks and drinks do? None of the faculty were looking, and the ones who were milling about were too engrossed in talking to old students and favouring talking to people too old to be wear jock-jackets and cheerleading skirts. Rolling your eyes as you wondered why they were all dressed up like they were awaiting for their class photos all over again.

William wasn't entirely sure why he'd accepted the invite back to his old college, his teeth finding the labret piercing along his lip and chewing it somewhat absently as he looked at the drinks table, thick brows furrowing as he decided whether or not to go fetch another drink. It had sounded like a good idea at the time when his friend Henry had convinced him to go, even though the theme was silly and he hadn't felt comfortable dressing as he was now for a while, but his friend had ditched at the last minute and now he was stood on the side-lines. Smiling politely as people he barely recognised came up to him and complimented how good he looked for his age, cooing over how they hadn't seen him in years.

It would perhaps be bearable if he remembered any of these people.

You weren't looking where you were going as your head darted around, trying to avoid being spotted by the dean before suddenly you walked into somebody, gasping as you stumbled back and a large hand shot out to grab you by the arm, steadying you. Blinking as you looked at who you'd walked into.

Whoever he was, he was older. Dark brown hair greying at the temple and becoming peppered through his short, sweptback haircut, greying eyebrows with the left one decorated by a complimentary silver ring. A septum piercing caught you slightly off guard, but the greying eyes hidden behind golden wire framed aviator glasses held your attention. Slight scowl on his sharp features as you couldn't help but notice a lip ring, cheeks filling with colour as you thought how handsome he was.

"Sorry! I um..Sorry." You stammered out, averting your eyes quickly before hearing a grunt, the hand letting you go. William's eyes raked over you quickly, assessingly as he took in how young you were, the oversized hoodie with the subtle designs, a name he couldn't quite read on the breast.

"Are you meant to be in here? You don't look like one of my old classmates." Crossing his thick, strong forearms across his chest, your eyes naturally flickered to the tattoo sleeve on his right, the intricate designs standing out as bio-mechanical, following where the bones in his arms laid, although there was another design you couldn't quite make out on the inside of his forearm.

"I um..I'm one of the student volunteers for the event, sir." You explained quickly, snapping your attention back to his face as you found yourself more flustered that you'd been staring at him. Hearing a snort coming from the taller man as you watched a smirk flicker across his face.

"Volunteer?" The smirk on his face developed and he couldn't help but let it spread as he looked down at your nervous face. Feeling a sense of satisfaction that you looked so flustered, watching how your eyes would momentarily flicker to his arm and trace the linework before seeming to catch yourself and focus on his face again. "They still getting you to do that stupid shit? Do they still offer extra credit for it?" He asked, making you reciprocate the smile as you shook your head.

"Nah, extra credit would be nice but we get two free lunch credits for our 'service' tonight." Shrugging your shoulders as the man whistled, looking back at the food table and then back to you. Allowing you to quickly steal glances at the tight black t-shirt and jeans he was wearing before he turned back to you.

"Two whole credits hey? And they don't let you have any of the good stuff on the table?" Raising an eyebrow before the grin returned. "How big are the pockets on that hoodie?"

"Sorry?"

"The hoodie pockets, how big are they?" He asked, gesturing to your hoodie and making you look at it, humming in thought before you answered.

"I can carry a two-litre soda bottle and a bag of chips usually."

"Perfect. Fancy stealing some snacks and ditching this snooze-fest?" He grinned, making you raise an eyebrow in return and cross your arms this time, looking up at him and wondering how serious he was.

"Snooze-fest? What it this the eighties? And secondly...I may have been aiming to 'help the help' when we collided." Grinning as the man offered his arm to you and you cautiously took it, feeling silly as you stuck close to him. Seeing a few of the people around you glancing sideways at you and the tall tattooed man, but looking away quickly as he glared at them.

Approaching the snack table, you went to break away but he held onto your arm, keeping you close as he looked about before his large hand darted out, grabbing cans and baggies of snacks and pushing them into the large pocket of your hoodie. Your cheeks burning as he kept brushing against your stomach with each pass, swallowing softly and turning to look around, see if anybody spotted you before the taller man nudged you, snapping your attention back to him.

"Don't look around, if you look suspicious, they'll look at you in turn." He said softly, grabbing another couple of cans and baggies before filling your pocket, releasing you before he nodded and winked, tapping the side of his nose with humour lighting up his eyes. "Meet me outside the gym in a moment, can't be seen leaving together."

With that he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you wondering what the hell had just happened. But after a few moments, you followed through the crowd, curious as to what he planned on doing with so many snacks and drinks, although from what little you had interacted, he seemed like a pretty funny guy.

You spotted him just outside the gym, staring into a cabinet with his brow furrowed slightly, hands stuck into the pockets of his jeans, thumbs hooked over the outside as you approached, looking curiously inside the cabinet and spotting what he was looking at. For the reunion they'd brought together photos of old clubs and trophies from games and tournaments. You guessed it was to 'relive the best days of their lives'.

One photo stood out to you though, a group of young, scrawny lads in matching t-shirts of various colours. There was a taller guy with dark curly hair and braces that looked like a stiff breeze might topple him over, but he was holding a silver trophy high up with a grin, arm around a significantly taller boy. There was something familiar about him and squinting at the photo through the layers of glass revealed a lithe figure, the start of tattoos peeking from underneath the short sleeve, piercings decorating a tight-lipped smile. Looking back at the man stood next to you and back again, your eyes widened slightly.

"Holy shit, is that you?" Earning a snort and a chuckle, watching him bite at the labret on his lip before smirking at you confidently.

"Have I really changed that much?" He teased, gesturing to the piercings and the all black, just like he appeared in the photo. Although now he was broader, more muscular and you could practically feel the confidence oozing off of him. Shrugging your shoulders, you chewed your lip absently.

"I mean, I would have thought you ditched the piercings at your age. You're not lanky either. More like a dad-bod." Fake pouting as he placed a hand over heart, raising his eyebrows in a way that made your chest tighten for some reason as his lips curled into more of a smile.

"Oh these? I just put them back in when I might run into pretty college girls. And you watch your mouth about the dad-bod. I heard girls your age like DILFs." He teased, watching your cheeks flush and your eyes snap away temporarily, enjoying teasing you and playing around with somebody so young and trying to find their rebellious feet. He remembered being like you, and he was glad he'd maintained that fire into his more mature self.

"What kind of porn level logic is that?" You sputtered out, crossing your arms and huffing to get a stray strand of hair out of your face. Uncrossing them after a moment before reaching into the hoodie pocket and pulling out a soda can, cracking it open and beginning to walk off, hearing his footsteps follow behind you with a slight scowl over your shoulder at him.

"If you're going to run off, makes sense to keep me with you, at least then you can pretend to be giving me a tour."

"You fucking went here, you should know your way around, or has some metal made it into your brain?" Rolling your eyes, flushing as he easily reached into your hoodie and pulled out another can, fingers brushing your stomach once again before he fell into step, your legs having to move faster to keep up with his long languid strides.

"Ooo, so original! You almost made my lip quiver with your meanness." Laughing as he bumped into you slightly, looking around the hall and taking in how much the decorations had changed. Rolling his eyes at the motivational posters that seemed to permanently reside on the white walls, wondering what happened to the small row of thin lockers that used to live in an alcove along the west wall. "Says the baby with virgin skin." He threw back, making you scowl at him in disapproval.

"How do you know what I look like under this hoodie? I could be covered enough to set off a metal detector and you would never know." You countered, watching his smile grow before he leaned in as he walked, slightly conspiratorial.

"You know, most punks like to show off their art. Tattoos, piercings, clothes. You'd have shown me by now if you had anything." His close, deep voice made you shiver, clearing your throat as you looked at the hall walls, realising you'd subconiously been heading towards the engineering department as you'd walked. Groaning as you remembered all the projects you should be working on.

Turning to your left, you kept quiet, allowing the tall man to trail behind you and finish his drink before he threw it into the trash nearby, pumping his fist silently to himself as he got it in from a good distance away. You secretly smiled at the image, wondering how he could continue to be so childish. Stealing snacks. Throwing things into bins from a distance.

Your hand landed on the door to your workshop before you even knew what you were doing, fishing into your jeans and pulling out a ring of keys, unlocking the door and breathing deeply as the scent of soldering irons and copper hit you. Nodding your head into the room as the man looked in curiously.

"If you're going to hang about, don't touch shit. You probably wouldn't understand half the stuff going on in here." Scoffing as you went in first, hearing his footsteps slowly entering behind you as you paced over to your project cabinet, unlocking it and pulling out a complex set of wires and metal bars and rings.

Kicking out a stool and emptying your pockets onto a free space on the table so you could sit more comfortably. He took a seat at the same table and peered curiously at what you were working on after a quick glance around. Whilst the workshop hadn't changed much, the sight of new projects scattered around at various stages of completion made him feel right at home again. Reminded somewhat of his old workshop at Freddy's before the company had gotten too big for just him and Henry to work on the animatronics alone. Now the biggest project yet 'the pizzaplex' was set to open in two months, and he had to admit, he missed the small little cramped space of Fredbear's diner when he and Henry had shared a single office with security.

Your slender fingers worked deftly as you tried to nudge wires and tense wire coils into place, swearing under your breath as you began to feel too warm in the hoodie. You always felt warm whilst concentrating, plus you needed to clear your arms for testing again. Gripping the bottom of your hoodie and pulling it over your body before chucking it over another seat. Revealing a tight tank-top underneath, one of the straps falling off of your shoulder and making William swallow as his eyes instinctually ran across the curves of your shoulders and collarbones.

"What are you working on?" He broke the silence, distracting himself as he furrowed his brow, trying to work out what was so familiar about the structure your hands tinkered with. Strand of hair falling into your face and you tried to huff it away from your forehead as you glanced at him.

"It's just a proto-type. Nothing special." Feeling suddenly embaressed about the project, brow furrowing as you noticed one of the springs out of place and using a thin hooked tool to pull it back into place again. Nose scrunching up as you took a deep breath and studied it carefully, checking for any more flaws.

"Prototypes are important, they help you find all the flaws in your designs. Maybe a second pair of eyes might be able to look over it for you?" He asked, holding out his hand in offer with a kind smile, meeting your concerned frown before you tenderly handed it over. Reluctant to give over your work that you had spent so long on, although it was more personal to you, you didn't want to have it all ruined in a moment because of somebody else's carelessness.

"Just be careful okay? It's important to me. Don't make me get the shop safety poster and make you test on it." You threatened playfully, earning a smile as his eyes sparked with mirth. Carefully turning over the device in his large hands with surprising care and diligence, humming quietly as he moved it under the lights to get a good look at it.

"Don't remind me. I had a habit of falling short on the marks on that damn test every year, probably because Mr. Schmidt hated my guts for dicking around in shop." He chuckled, making you raise an eyebrow as he revealed he used to be part of the shop. Feeling curiosity burn in your chest as suddenly you felt a tiny bit more confident in letting him handle your project.

"You used to - OH MY GOD!" Your thought was cut off as he suddenly perked up and slipped his hand between the rings and wires on his non-tattooed arm, making the colour drain from your face as his fingers became tangled into place along the more delicate parts at the end. He looked fascinated as he moved and flexed his hand, turning it this was and that to get a proper look, circling his wrist as you began to hyper-ventilate slightly.

"I thought I recognised some of this.... Is this a springlock?" He asked, perfectly calm as he flexed and checked movement for a moment more before disconnecting from the framework easily. Your heart pounding in your chest as you stared at the mechanical suit arm on the desk, wondering what had just happened.

"I think.. you may have failed the shop safety tests for different reasons." Breathing heavy as your hands snatched it up again, performing a quick safety check before placing it down again. Running a hand over your hair and feeling your hands tremble slightly. "And..yeah... it's a springlock design, V2.4 currently...Holy shit you just..."

William chuckled and showed off his arm under the light, brushing some of the coarse dark hair on his forearm so that you could make out the deep, pale scars that ran up the skin that you hadn't noticed before. Eyes widening as you showed off the same arm, your own matching scars more pink than his, from your own springlock incident three months previous during your first testing phase.

"I'm very familiar with them, as you can see. But I'm very impressed! If type I'm familiar with had been handled that roughly, I would have had myself a few more scars and a nice trip to the emergency room." He chuckled, smiling brightly, offering his large calloused hand for you to cautiously shake.

"I never introduced myself. I'm William, William Afton."

Your jaw dropped as you felt your grip on the handshake faulter. Brain turning over the name over and over again as you struggled to comprehend who was sat across from you.

"Y-You're...Oh my god you're...you're actually him aren't you?" Breathing hitched as you watched the smirk on his face reappear at your realisation, nodding slowly and releasing your softer hand to watch them cover your face as you groaned into your palms. "I've been insulting William Afton...I...Shit I've insulted you." Feeling as if the earth could swallow you up and consume you would be a preferable option to meeting your hero and having him look at your work.

"I thought it was quite cute actually. You're such a baby punk...Hmm..There's got to be a better name for that.. Bunny punk? Yeah, bunny punk, you're all soft and cute, stamping your foot like a little bunny rabbit and trying to appear tough." Your reddening cheeks almost becoming their own heat source as he smirked at you, resting his chin against his hand as he glanced over you again.

"I'm not...I'm not a 'bunny punk', Mr. Afton." Your cheeks burned as he sucked on his teeth for a moment, looking you over before he grinned again, your chest sent fluttering as that smile seemed to radiate confidence and an almost predatory nature to it.

"You're very right young lady...You're just a little bunny aren't you? I think that's what I'll call you, bunny." his smile broke and he stuck his tongue out at you, making your body ache slightly as you realised he had a silver stud on his tongue, such a cute nickname combined with your idol sat across from you looking all too hot with his piercings in flustering you all the more.

"Sir, I-"

"Wow, that's something usually only my employees or pretty ladies in bed call me. You're bold aren't you, bunny?" William couldn't hold back the teasing as you grew increasingly flustered, cheeks burning up and the flush spreading down to your collarbones. The way your shoulders curled in allowing him to see a dark mark against your shoulder blade, piquing his interest more as he stood up, walking behind you and his large hand resting on your back, feeling how you tensed up as he studied the lines of the tattoo against your skin.

"You were right, I really had no idea what was hiding under that hoodie of yours." Chuckling as he felt the goose bumps along your skin forming under his finger. He swore he could almost feel how quickly your heart beat inside your chest as he placed his hand between your shoulders. "But-" he pulled his hand away and leaned onto the desk next to you, forcing you to turn your head up and look at him. Lips parted softly, making him ache at how deliciously under-prepared for him you looked. Wondering how far he would be able to push the flirting and the teasing before you ran from him.

"Mr. Afton, I... I have admired your work for a very long time." The words were slow to fall from your lips, trying to force yourself to be polite and ignore the part of your brain that was screaming in delight at how he touched your back, how your celebrity crush flirted with you and made you feel special.

It wasn't helpful that your brain kept suggesting to you how that lip and tongue piercing would feel kissing you, or running against another pair of lips that desperately wanted attenton.

"I used to go to Freddy's when I was little. That's when I fell in love with robotics honestly." You breathed, watching his expression turn to surprise as his eyebrows raised, watching the way the eyebrow piercing caught the light before you turned your eyes to his tattoos. Finally seeing the design on the inside of his arm was a knife, mixed into the biomechanical designs that dominated the arm. "I think I met you once back then, although I don't think you had any piercings."

"I took them out in the restaurant, well, apart from a couple more....private...ones." He smiled, listening to you talk as he felt his body aching more as you stroked his ego. He might have been many things, but able to resist somebody offering him praise and idolisation wasn't one of them. "Go on, bunny."

"I found an article about the springlocks, and the designs were just..beautiful. The engineering? The design? How such complex machinery could be fitted into such a small space, it was entrancing." Feeling your heart beating faster as his grey eyes focused on you intensely, shuddering under his intensity. "So I wanted to continue the project. I was..I guess I was hoping you were still into engineering and I hoped that I could maybe recreate the spring-bonnie suit that I loved so much." Nervous babbling coming to an end as he gazed at you, a grin spreading up his face as he looked down at you.

"Spring-bonnie was my suit in particular actually." The fact made your heart only pound faster, flustering yourself all over again that you didn't know such a simple fact. All those chaotic thoughts pausing as he raised his hand and caught your chin, forcing you to look at him as he ran his tongue against his lip. "You did all this work, for me?"

"Y-Yes sir."

"What a good girl you are. Would you like a reward?" William's voice was calm and controlled, but inside he was feeling a little feral. Such a cute thing having devoted her entire career to following his work, recreating the work she loved, wanting to gift it back to him. It stoked a dark, hungry fire in him and suddenly he was back in college himself, the punk that made ladies swoon as he bit his piercing at them, with all the charm and suave that age had brought him.

The tiny nod of your head was all he needed to lean in, his lips brushing yours, barely ghosting them before they met yours fully. A soft squeak escaping you as it caught you slightly by surprise. The cold metal of his lip ring down the centre line of your lip contrasting to how hot he felt against your lips. Moving together slowly at first before your tongue ran across his lip and William growled deeply in his chest, parting his lips and pushing his tongue into your mouth. One hand moving to the back of your head and pressing you into it, allowing him to dominate your mouth, the feeling of his stud meeting your tongue sending shivers down your spine.

Finally the kiss broke, leaving you breathless, a silver strand of saliva connecting your lips before William licked his lips and broke it. Grinning widely at you, you swore his eyes almost looked black in the lights of the workshop before he handed your hoodie back to you, making you pause for a moment in confusion, perhaps a little hurt before he spoke.

"You're going to put that back on, bunny. We're going to grab our stuff, and then we're going to go to your dorm or where-ever the fuck your bed is. I think you deserve an extra special thank you for being such a dedicated volunteer tonight." The words made you light up, nodding enthusiastically, throwing on your hoodie and allowing him to stuff some of the snacks and drinks back into your pockets, more opening shivering as his thick fingers brushed against you through the fabric. Swallowing softly as he also picked up the springlock arm and cradled it in his hands with a grin as you raised a curious eyebrow.

"Come on then, bunny. Lead the way." Letting you lead the way out of the workshop and locking up behind yourself before he followed shortly behind you, watching the way your body moved hungrily as he imagined stripping you bare for him and considered how pretty you might look naked in his own workshop.