#designs can hold/say so much and i could pick them apart for ever and just never be done

[jesse-cosay]

I literally love comparing Lake and Tulip's designs. I think it says so much about them.

Haven't seen it mentioned anywhere, and maybe that's because it's just common knowledge, but! Both Lake and Tulip have boots, and both of them have pants that don't quite reach their ankles.

And this is! Beautiful! So cool! Because Lake isn't an exact copy of Tulip, their design isn't a cheap rip-off all the way through. But these similarities also accentuate how different they really are.

They both wear boots but Tulips are obviously softer. Insulated. The kind of thing you slip on and wear around. Lake's are closer to work boots. They have laces and are more about durability then practically (slip ons).

And Tulip's pants are some sort of leggings or tights- something that sticks close to the skin. They're also layered! Lake's pants lack layers and also stick out. There's a gap and you can tell that their wants might not be baggy, but none of their clothes is something I would call form-fitting.

Even when she gets a new design, she's wearing jeans, and you can see where the bend if her knee is. Which isn't clear on Lake unless they're moving.

All of Tulip's reiterations are also splash of color and some neutral tones. Which like! If Lake was trying so desperately to be the opposite of Tulip, there's no way they'd wear black and gray. Tulip literally wore black and gray for the entire first season!

But Lake owns the neutral tones. Instead of letting their skin be some sort of neutral accent, they made wearing neutral colors a trait of their's. It's just who they are.

Also Tulip always seems to wear long sleeves, possibly because she's Minnesotan and it's cold here 70% of the year, or maybe she just thinks they're comfy. Lake has no sleeves whatsoever. It makes me wonder if they hate wearing too many layers or things that are too tight. If that makes them feel a little trapped or restricted.

I have no idea where I was going with this or if any of this really makes sense. I just love these two kids. I love parallels. I love learning about characters through their designs.

[sulumuns-dootah]

Taking the WHB demons thrifting

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

Characters: Paimon, Bimet, Eligos, Barbatos, Beelzebub, Amon, Morax, Ronove, Andrealphus, Vassago

A/N: First time writing for Vassago so let's hope I can nail his personality down since we didn't really get much of him the Beleth/Bephie event.

    ༺☆༻

The best one to go with, honestly

You could be looking through a rack for hours and yet, they manage to find something cute and in your size in the same rack

Will hype you up to buy something a bit out of your comfort zone

A thrifting trip can't be complete without a lunch before and a slushie or a visit to a café afterwards

    ༺☆༻

"Tell me why we're buying rags after some hobos instead of buying something nice and unworn, again?"

You've made a mistake, I'm afraid

Even designer outlets aren't good enough for Bimet

Your explanations about how more fun and good for the planet it is fall on deaf ears

    ༺☆༻

Another amazing patootie to choose to go with

It's harder for him to find something he likes, but once he sees the stuff you like, he's hoarding that shi at your feet

Snacks, snacks, snacks!

Honestly tho, Eli and Pai is the best fashion duo ever

    ༺☆༻

For someone who is naked most of the time, Barbs enjoys shopping for clothes a lot

He's especially interested in eye-catching prints

Doesn't really care about what you like, but what he would like on you (again, he literally wants you to be naked all the time, so what's the point of picking out clothes for you?)

Withe very item he wants to get the criteria are: how easy is it to remove? and will it make Barbatos look too good, making Leviathan hang him out of envy?

    ༺☆༻

This fucker tagged along only bc you promised to take him to some restaurant he hasn't tried before after you're done

*sigh* I hate to say it, but he would try to smell the articles of clothing for any remaining scent of the previous owner

You better hold him by the scruff of his neck so he doesn't do anything

"I like this top, I'm gonna buy it." "Oh? Lemme see *sniff sniff* Ooh, this belonged to someone who liked italian food and mostly matched it with (some other article of clothing)!"

    ༺☆༻

Amon, doesn't really have much of an input

Most likely he'll just stay parked somewhere, leaning against a wall and sleepily watch you browse the racks

When you ask for his opinion, you always get the same answer: "Looks good on you, love"

If you find something he might like, he'll have more to say, but is mostly happy that you want to get him something

    ༺☆༻

Aw, this cutie only went with you because you mentioned you wanna go to a cat café afterwards

Ironically, Morax ends up getting more things than you

The amount of fluffy and comfy sweaters that he can wear at home is enough to fill two bags

Visit to the cat café goes even better

You barely couldn't even leave bc the cats kept surrounding Morax

    ༺☆༻

As soon as you enter the store, he's immediately making his way to the lingerie section

"Hey, how about this? You'd look good in this and wouldn't have to be mad at me for ripping it apart."

To be fair, his style is on point and you end up buying the things he found for you

But to disappoint him, you also don't want him to rip thise things too, especially since they're unique and not from some store where you can buy more

    ༺☆༻

Oh no, this poor baby is trying to help you find nice things, but he can only pick them out by touch :(

He always brings you the ugliest things and it hurts you to tell him that they might feel nice, but look horrible

You end up buying some of the stuff anyway, so you can at least wear them at home while spending time with Andre

On the other hand, you find some nice suits for him, but he hates the texture of them

    ༺☆༻

Somehow, going thrifting with Vassago, you come out with outfits that would make a profesional stylist jealous

This man can take anything and make it look fancy af

Hell, you could give him a tablecloth and he'll make you look like a greek statue

In the end you both end up having a full bag of things

You have a bag of stuff for yourself and Vassago has a bag full of stuff for Agares

[scary-grace]

if my heart was a house (chapter 2) - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

It's been nineteen years since Tomura was sentenced to death, and you've built a life in the space he left behind, braced each day for the worst. You're prepared for everything - the questions your daughter asks, the memories that sting a little more in the winter, the specter of the news you've been afraid of for years. But of all the things life's thrown your way, it's the one you haven't dared to hope for might be the one thing you can't handle. (cross-posted to Ao3) The prequel can be found here: what I can't remember nowwritten for @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday event! Banner/divider by @cafekitsune

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

It’s freezing when you step out of the community center, and only the fact that Chihiro’s waiting for you to pick her up at school prevents you from going right back in and borrowing a scarf and gloves from the bin of spares. You knew you should have dressed more warmly, but you didn’t realize there’d be so much wind. By the time you make to the car, your teeth are chattering, and the car always takes longer to warm up than you want it to. You moved to Hokkaido nineteen years ago because it was the last place anyone would look for you, and no one’s found you yet. You just wish the price of privacy didn’t include freezing your ass off in the moonless polar night.

You think Chihiro worries about you a little less lately. You’ve gone to a month of pottery classes, and you make sure to respond to messages in the PTA moms’ group text every so often, and once when Kaori’s crazy mom asked you to get tea, you agreed. You left that conversation feeling like you’d been through a tornado, but the important thing is that you’re trying. That Chihiro sees you trying. That when she moves away for school, her worry for you won’t hold her back.

Her comment about you not having friends hit a little too close to home, and it’s still hanging around in your head. You used to have friends — Tomura’s friends, and some of your own. You loved them. You know they loved you. Half the reason you survived Tomura’s arrest and trial was because they were with you, suffering the same way, helpless to stop anything that was happening and trying all the same. Knowing all of that, it makes even less sense that you ran from them afterward.

But that’s always been who you are. When you’re hurt, when you’re scared, when you’re sad, you pull back from the world. You don’t like having your feelings where other people could see, and if you didn’t like having your feelings in front of anybody, there was no way you were having your baby in front of Tomura’s friends. You weren’t interested in how they felt about it. You didn’t want to hear what they’d say. And you didn’t want them involved, constantly circling, reminding you of everything you lost. Reminding your baby, once they were old enough to understand. Your new new job (you lost the first new one), your apartment, your friends, your city — it all started to feel like a prison. You could run, so you did.

Lately, though, you’ve been thinking about them. Enough to look them up and see that Toga’s a fairly well-known costume designer, and wish you could talk sewing with her; find out that Dabi’s doing okay, when you’d been worried ever since you met him that he’d wind up in prison; learn that Spinner’s a writer with a popular series of detective novels, famous for mercilessly skewering the police over their incompetence and corruption. You’ve thought about reaching out, seeing if they know anything about Tomura’s situation, if they’ve heard anything from him. Then you decided it wasn’t worth it. You don’t want to find out that he’s spent nineteen years talking to them and not to you.

Your car finally warms up. You take a deep breath, shove the thought of your old friends away, and drive.

Someone’s car spun out on the route you planned to take to the high school, and you call Chihiro to let her know you’ll be a little late. She doesn’t answer, but she probably just busy. The choir director is kind of a hardass, but Chihiro worships the ground she walks on, and she’d never interrupt a rehearsal for something like a call from her probably-clingy mom. You are a little clingy. You just don’t ever want her to wonder where you are. To spend even a second doubting that you’ll be there when she needs you.

You get to the school, park, and switch idly between channels on the radio, skipping away whenever you hear a snatch of the news. The choir kids trickle out of school slowly, talking through chattering teeth, and scatter to their parents’ cars. You watch for Chihiro, knowing that she stays late to talk to the choir director sometimes. But then the lights in the music room go out. The choir director steps out, locking the door behind her, and fear like you’ve never experienced in your life floods through you.

It feels like acid in your veins. You lurch out of your car and get in the director’s way as she heads for hers. “Where’s Chihiro?”

“She left at the break,” the director says. “Typically I don’t allow it, but she’s an excellent student and she’s never asked before —”

Chihiro left. Chihiro left school an hour ago. You can barely speak. “What happened? Did she get sick? Why didn’t you call me —”

“She said she would,” the director says, bewildered. “She didn’t?”

“If she’d called me, I’d have picked her up already.” Your voice stutters, fractures. “What happened?”

“She and her friends were discussing something. A news article, I think. I doubt that’s what caused it.” The director is frowning now, disconcerted to your terrified. “When we resumed practice, she was distraught, and asked to be excused early.”

Distraught. You’ve never heard anybody use that word to describe your daughter. “Did she say why?”

“She needed to go home. She said it was a family emergency.”

A family emergency? You’re her family. Your parents passed away when she was in middle school and you and your brother haven’t spoken in years. What family is she talking about? You don’t need that answer right now. You need to find her. “Thank you,” you choke out, and run back to your car.

You and she live five miles outside of town — on a big road that gets plowed and salted, sure, but still outside of town. Could she walk all the way home in an hour? You don’t think so. Not in this weather. And you can’t think of anywhere else she would go. You drive slowly, carefully along the road, your heart rising into your throat at each bend in the road and sinking when the stretch of road ahead of you continues to be empty. Your mind twists in agony. A family emergency. What does that even mean? It crosses your mind that it’s the perfect excuse, one no teacher would ever refuse a student like Chihiro — but why wouldn’t she call you? Why would she start walking home in the dark? What is there that she thinks she can’t bring to you, that you wouldn’t help her with? You’d do anything for her. You just have to find her, and you’ll figure it out.

You catch up to her halfway home, her hands jammed into her pockets and her shoulders hunched against the cold, her breath billowing out in a frozen cloud. The relief of finding her lasts for only a second. Now you need to get her home. You flip on your hazard lights and slow to a crawl alongside her, rolling down your window. “Chihiro, get in the car!”

She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even look your way. “I’m so glad I found you, but I don’t understand,” you say. “You must be freezing. Why didn’t you call me? I was so scared –”

You’re making this about you. It’s not about you. “Chihiro, please get in the car. I just want you to be safe. I love you —”

“Shut up!” She wheels on you, and you hit the brakes, more in shock than anything else. Your daughter’s eyes are swollen and bloodshot with tears, and her lips are cracked and bleeding in the cold. Her mouth is turned down like you haven’t seen it in more than a decade, but her eyes are hot with rage. “Don’t come near me. Don’t even talk to me. I didn’t call you because I hate you. I hate you! How could you do that to me?”

“Do what?” you ask.

“Lie,” Chihiro spits, or sobs. “How long were you going to lie to me, Mom? Were you ever going to tell me the truth about my dad?”

Your stomach drops. How did she find out? How many people know? “I never lied,” you say. “I never told you he was dead. I always told you —”

“He’s gone.” Chihiro’s nose is dripping. She looks frozen. “Don’t play that stupid game. You knew what I thought you meant when you say that, and you just let me think — you were always going to let me think he was —”

“How did you find out?”

“That’s all you care about? I hate you —”

Right now, you hate yourself, too. It hurts to hear Chihiro say that, hurts to know she’s so angry with you that she’d rather freeze than spend even a second in the car with you — but your feelings don’t matter right now. They stopped mattering nineteen years ago. This is about your daughter. You shove your feelings to one side. “You hate me,” you repeat, and she scoffs. “You can hate me just as much in the car as you can out there, and the car is warm.”

Chihiro squints at you as she wipes her eyes. “It’s not that far. I can walk.”

“Yeah. But it’ll take you another hour, and it’ll just keep getting colder.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “I won’t try to talk to you. In the car or when we’re home. Just — please, get in the car, Chihiro. You don’t have to hurt yourself to let me know you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry, Mom. This is way beyond angry.” Chihiro takes a deep breath and coughs on the cold air. “If you try to talk to me, I’m getting out again.”

You don’t deserve to feel relieved, but you do. You put the car in park and unlock the passenger-side door. “Okay.”

The drive home is awful, but at least it’s brief. The first thing Chihiro does after taking off her shoes and coat is head straight for the bathroom. The water switches on in the shower, and you’ll bet it’s scalding hot. She must be so cold. And so angry with you, angry enough to override her better judgment and drive her out onto the road alone. Is she right about you? Were you ever going to tell her the truth about Tomura? You don’t know. But you should have seen this coming, somehow. You could have seen it coming, would have, if you were doing anything but hiding from your own pain. Of course Chihiro’s furious with you. You deserve it.

Deserving it doesn’t make it hurt any less, so like always, you find something to keep you busy. You set out clean pajamas for Chihiro on her bed. Then you finish folding the laundry, emptying the dishwasher, folding the quilts that are still strewn across the couch from Chihiro’s movie night with Kaori over the weekend. After that it’s time to sew, and even with the focus paper-piecing takes and the noise of the sewing machine, you can’t shut out a single question: How did she find out?

The water in the shower shuts off. You hear Chihiro’s footsteps in the hallway, then the sound of her bedroom door shutting. Shutting, not slamming. You abandon your sewing machine, planning to go to your bedroom and stay there, leaving her the kitchen and the living room and not coming out until she goes to sleep. You don’t want her to have to look at you. Or maybe you just don’t want to see how she looks at you now.

The thought stops you at the threshold. You’ve made everything about what’s happened into something about you. Who are you helping by going to hide? Yourself. You’re protecting yourself from your daughter’s anger, which she deserves to express, and from the questions she probably wants to ask, which you should have answered a long time ago. You can’t hide. You need to stay here and be the person — the parent — you should have been all along. Even if it’s too late.

You hear the bedroom door open, but you don’t turn, and Chihiro comes closer with soft footsteps. She stops at the edge of the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“Making hot chocolate. Do you want some?”

“You’re being weird,” Chihiro says. She sounds unnerved. “I told you I hate you. Why aren’t you yelling? You’re not even crying. Do you even care?”

Your heart breaks a little bit, even as a surge of frustration rocks you. “It hurts to hear you say that,” you admit. No more lying. From here on out, you tell the truth. “But I don’t think it hurts as much as finding out your mom’s been lying to you for eighteen years.”

Chihiro’s quiet. She’s quiet, and you’re not trying to downplay what you did or run away from it, so you ask a question of your own. “How did you find out?”

The electric kettle goes off with a click. “The water’s done,” Chihiro says. “Are you making hot chocolate or not?”

She reminds you so much of Tomura — that same bluntness, that same impatience, that same affinity for cutting the knot. “Yeah. And some for you.”

Once you’ve both got your cups, you head to the living room. Chihiro unfolds all the blankets you folded earlier and burrows into them, and you sit in the armchair and pull your feet up and away from the floor. She watches you over the rim of her cup. “It’s weird when you do that,” she says. “It makes you look really young.”

It’s quiet for a second. “I guess you are kind of young. They said in school that most people don’t have kids until they’re thirty, and you were only twenty-two when you had me.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Four years older than you.”

It sounds wrong when you say it. Too young. Way too young. Chihiro looks unsettled. “I wouldn’t have a kid when I was twenty-two,” she says. “Why did you?”

You take a sip of hot chocolate, trying to calm your nerves. “I’ll tell you that and everything else. I want to know how you found out first.”

Chihiro’s eyes narrow, but to your surprise, she answers. “Takako at school — she watches that true-crime show. The one you don’t let me watch.”

“I never said you couldn’t watch it. I just said not on the TV out here,” you say. Chihiro rolls her eyes. “Your computer in your room is fair game.”

“My computer doesn’t get cable.”

“So pirate it,” you say with a shrug, and Chihiro nearly chokes on her next sip of hot chocolate. “I never said you couldn’t watch it at all.”

“Yeah. Like you never actually said my dad was dead,” Chihiro says. Ouch. “Do you want me to tell you or what? She watches that show, and you’re not the only mom who’s weird about it, so she tells us all about the episodes when they come out. I guess this week’s episode was about this guy Shigaraki Tomura who killed his whole family, and how he’s been on death row longer than anybody else in Japan. So we looked him up to see if he’s still alive — I guess the episodes get made in advance — and there were pictures of him at his trial. He has the same birthmark I do.”

You nod. “And the same eyes. Ever since you were a baby.”

Chihiro looks down into her cup. “One of my friends joked about it. I thought it was funny, so I laughed. But then I was thinking about it, and the — timing, I guess. And I realized you never said he was dead. My whole life, that was what I thought, but it wasn’t what you said.”

She takes another sip of hot chocolate. “I was looking at the pictures. From the trial, and you were in them. Your hair looked different, but I knew it was you. And I guess I — there was this one picture. From his sentencing. You’re holding his hands.”

You hadn’t realized someone snapped a photo, but you should have known. Your fingers still ache from the memory. Chihiro looks up, her eyes glassy again. “It’s him, isn’t it? My dad’s Shigaraki Tomura.”

“That’s him,” you say. You can’t call your voice steady. Flat might be better. “What do you want to know?”

“Why,” Chihiro says at once. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There were a lot of reasons,” you say. “I think my main one was trying to protect you.”

“From him?”

“No,” you say. “From everybody else. I don’t know if you read any of the articles about the trial, but the way they talked about him — and about me — was awful. People treated me differently, and I was just his girlfriend. I didn’t want anybody to do anything to you because of who your father was.”

“I got in fights anyway. Because I didn’t have a dad.” Chihiro’s voice is dull. “Maybe if they’d known who he was it would have been different.”

“Maybe.” You take a sip of your own hot chocolate, even though it’s getting hard to swallow. “That was part of it. Part of it was that I didn’t want you to grow up with that hanging over your head. Knowing that your dad was on death row and not even being able to visit him.”

“You said he didn’t know about me. Was that a lie, too?”

“I tried to tell him,” you say. “I called, and wrote letters, and tried to visit — he never wanted to see me. And he never answered.”

Your voice wavers slightly. You don’t try to fight it. Fighting it makes it worse. “I wanted to. He wouldn’t let me.”

Chihiro looks disturbed. “So that picture —”

“That’s the last time I saw him,” you say, and Chihiro’s expression collapses. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry about that.” Chihiro lets go of her cup to wipe her eyes. “Why else didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was selfish,” you say. It hurts to admit it, to admit that what you swore you were doing for Chihiro’s own good was for you all along. But you have to be honest. You’ve lied to her, by omission or on purpose, enough for a lifetime. “I didn’t want to think about what happened. Any of it. And if you didn’t know — if nobody knew — then I wouldn’t have to talk about it ever again.”

Chihiro wipes her eyes a second time. You keep talking, your throat aching more in every word. “I didn’t wake up one morning and decide not to tell you about Tomura. It just happened —”

“And kept happening. For eighteen years.”

She’s not going to let you get away with anything. The fact that you know she shouldn’t doesn’t make it any less frustrating. “Yeah. Eighteen years. I did it because it would make things easier, for me. Because it wouldn’t hurt as much, for me. I was thinking a lot about me and I should have been thinking about you.”

Chihiro looks away. “Do you think he did it?”

“Chihiro —”

“He confessed,” Chihiro says. “He said he did it.”

Yeah, Tomura confessed. They interrogated him for twenty days straight before they got anything out of him, and when you came to visit him again before the trial, he looked like something had broken inside of him. He seemed out of it, too. He barely recognized you, barely knew you were there. You don’t know what they did to him in there, but you trust that confession even less than you trust the testimony his adoptive father gave. “He confessed,” Chihiro repeats, her voice rising. She fumbles her phone out of her pocket, unlocks it one-handed. “Do you think he did it?”

She’s looking something up. You remember all at once how Chihiro stumbled on him in the first place. “Did they execute him? Chihiro, tell me —”

“Do you think he did it?” she demands, and you shake your head. You were there at the trial. Every day. You never saw anything that made you believe he was guilty. Chihiro squeezes her eyes shut and holds out her phone towards you. “You were right.”

Some part of you registers what she just said, but it doesn’t stick. It bounces off the surface and vanishes, because Chihiro has a news site open, with a bright red BREAKING NEWS banner across the top. SHIGARAKI TOMURA EXONERATED AFTER NINETEEN YEARS ON DEATH ROW.

You spend one wild second panicking at the sight of an “ex” word in the same sentence as Tomura’s name and “death row”, but then you force yourself to go back. Exonerated. Not executed, exonerated. You lift the phone out of Chihiro’s hands and she lets you take it — with a caveat. “Read it out loud, okay? So I know we both saw the same thing.”

You start reading, your voice rattling. “In a time of rising crime, escalating drug trafficking, and a loss of trust in our institutions, the accused mass murderer Shigaraki Tomura became the avatar for Japan’s worst nightmares: A remorseless killer, hiding amongst the innocent, ready to strike at any time. Those who questioned the scant evidence the prosecutor provided were ridiculed. Those who believed that his confession to the murders of his parents, his grandparents, and his older sister was the product of coercion were reviled. Nineteen years later, they and the man they spoke up for have seen justice served.”

Your eyes are burning. You blink back tears and keep reading. “In a stunning but well-reasoned decision released on Monday afternoon, the Supreme Court reversed all seven murder convictions against Shigaraki Tomura in light of new evidence uncovered in the course of an entirely different investigation. Midoriya Izuku, a prosecutor turned human-rights advocate, became interested in Shigaraki’s case while working to restore another inmate’s right to visits from his adoptive father — fuck!”

Chihiro looks up. “Huh?”

“Sorry. It’s just — he called me,” you say. “Midoriya Izuku. He’s been calling. I didn’t know why.”

“It’s weird when you swear,” Chihiro notes. You mumble an apology. “Keep reading.”

“Upon reviewing the available evidence and pursuing new investigations, Midoriya made a motion for a retrial, which was granted by the Supreme Court and conducted under terms of absolute secrecy in order to avoid the media circus that ensued during Shigaraki’s original trial. The Court has agreed to release all documents related to Shigaraki’s case and is expected to do so within the next twenty-four hours. Some sources have indicated that a different suspect in the Shimura family’s murders has already been taken into custody, but no official confirmation has been received.”

Your hands are shaking now, so hard you almost drop Chihiro’s phone in your cup of hot chocolate. “Mom?” Chihiro says, and you look up, blinking hard. “Do you know who they arrested?”

Your first inclination is to ask why she thinks you of all people would know, but you clamp down on that. Even though the world’s just been yanked out from beneath your feet, your daughter is still the injured party. And when you think about it, you do have some idea of who it is. “His adoptive dad. He was the one who had custody of Tomura when the murders happened, and he was really excited to cooperate with the investigation.”

“Custody?” Chihiro repeats. “How old was he when he — when they died?”

“Fifteen,” you say. “If you’re older than fourteen when you commit a crime, they can try you as an adult.”

“You think his fake dad set him up,” Chihiro says. You nod. “Is there more to read?”

“A little bit.”

Chihiro scoots over on the couch, making a space, and you sit down next to her. She has to wake up her phone again for you to keep reading, and you get the jumpscare of SHIGARAKI TOMURA EX- a second time before scrolling down to where you left off. “Although a release date has not been announced publicly, it is the view of this magazine that Shigaraki should be released from prison as quickly as possible. He has paid a debt to society that was never owed in the first place. When Shigaraki Tomura is released from Fuchu Prison, he will walk out a free man. Society’s atonement for the crime it committed against him is only beginning.”

You glance at the byline out of habit. This article was written by Kizuki Chitose, and if you remember right, the last article she wrote about Tomura struck a pretty different note. She’d better start atoning right now. You’d be happy to help. Balling up every single scathing editorial and hit job she wrote and jamming them down her throat feels like it would be a good start.

“It’s real,” Chihiro says. You nod. “He’s getting out.”

You nod again. You’re with Kizuki on wanting Tomura to be released as quickly as possible. You’re just not sure what happens next.

Chihiro’s thinking along the same lines. “Mom, what are we going to do?”

“We’ll figure it out,” you promise her. She leans in against your side, and some horrible part of you exults. With the chaos that’s about to unfold, Chihiro can’t afford to hate you any longer — or if you stop thinking about it like an asshole, she doesn’t know what’s going to happen and you’re the person she turns to. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know any more than she does. You’re the adult, but something happened to you when you read that headline. Somehow it feels like no time has passed at all; like he was just torn away from you, like you’re a lonely, hopeless twenty-two-year-old with a baby on the way all over again.

But you aren’t. You made it this far. Your baby turned eighteen this year, and you managed to raise her close enough to right. “We’ll figure it out,” you promise her again. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

“Maybe you were right,” Chihiro mumbles. “It would have been harder if I knew all this time.”

You think so. It’s still not an excuse. You wrap your arm around your daughter’s shoulders and hug her closer, relieved beyond words when she doesn’t pull away. You’ll take care of her first — make sure she eats, make sure she gets some sleep, because you know from experience how much harder everything becomes without it. And after she’s fallen asleep, you’ll finally return Midoriya Izuku’s calls.

<- Chapter 1

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Heeeee look anyway I don't know much about marvel but anyone would be fine 🥹

I love reading your stories sm

Oooooo, it's time, @danni1323! Are you ready...?

(Warning: Read the bingo card... This is the ❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU, so expect panicked Reader, dark scenarios, and guilty platonic yans... Viewer discretion is advised...)

This was the about the seventyeth time they had tried to escape. It had gone well at first, as they'd made it as far as the edge of the facility grounds lake... Until one of their old mentors had caught up to them.

The struggle had been fierce, with Reader trying to bite through the hands that caught them, scratching and hissing like a wounded cat, yet it was all for naught. The older mutant, Sabretooth, had pinned them, and had actually handcuffed their wrists together.

Suffice to say, Reader made their fear known.

"Let me go!"

"Cub, this is tha seventy-eighth time you've tried ta run from us. I don't want ta do this, but ya aren't listening. You don't have ta run. We'll take care of ya. I know we've failed ya in tha past, I know that. But ya aren't leavin' us again. I promise ya we won't hurt ya ever again. Ya have my word," sighs the larger feral, Sabretooth, who then starts to walk back towards where the facility is. Reader tries to tug their hand back, but they're only tugged forward, forced into walking with him unless they want to lose their balance.

"Kid, cub, please stop fightin' this. Yer only gonna hurt yerself by struggling."

"No!"

The feral let's out a small groan, but stops for a moment. He looks down at Reader, his eyes picking them apart... A new glint seems to form in them, then in a steady twist he hauls Reader up into his arms, soon holding them in a bridal carry.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Reader can't hide the panic or fear in their voice, nor stop trying to get down, all of which is met by a hand rubbing their back, while their handcuffed one helps hold Reader up, pressing them against their old mentor's chest.

"I'm keepin' ya from hurtin' yerself. I can't trust ya ta walk the rest of tha way, and I'm not goin' ta risk havin' ya bite yer hand off just ta get away from us. It's okay that ya don't trust us, that ya don't trust me. But I won't let ya hurt yerself er get yerself sick with worry er bein' out in tha cold. Now, just relax, 'kay, cub? I'll take care of everything," their captor rumbles, who then continues, carrying Reader the entire way back, petting them and making small promises. They're greeted by their other mentor, Wolverine, who only let's out a soft sigh and let's them in.

Reader could have lived with being stuck in their designated "room" for a bit, or being left to sleep as punishment. What they didn't expect was for the two ferals to bring them deeper into the facility, through the corridors and halls, until they reached a room that smelled of antiseptic and medicine. Reader couldn't help but let out a small, almost inaudible whine when they were brought in. The room looked a bit like a doctor's, with a large chair-bed-recliner thing, bright lighting, a table and cabinets with a sink, and various charts and graphs along one wall. They're less pleased when the one holding them sets them down on the chair/bed, humming softly.

"W-what are you doing?" Reader asks, voice wavering. They give a small tug to the handcuffs, but it does nothing. "W-what's going on?"

"Don't worry, cub. We know ya've been strugglin' with seein' us again, of bein' back here again. It's rough, we know. But nothin's been workin', nothin' we say or do or try helps ya any, er makes ya feel better. It's hurtin' ya, cub, and we can't let ya keep hurtin'. Just take a deep breath and lean back, 'kay? We need ta get ya settled before we can begin."

Reader feels their hear skip a beat, freezing up. Their breathing picks up speed, their eyes darting around as they try to find an escape, a way out-

Firm hands push them down, even as they start to struggle, scratching along the soft cushioning and the wrist that is cuffed. They're only held still, and soon they feel something thick wrap around their hand. A thick, padded strap, tying their other wrist down to the chair/bed they're on. A shrill scream escapes them, a wailing cry of total terror and panic. The two older ferals try to calm them down, but are met with harsh wrenching and struggling. Sabretooth trys to shush them, voice soft and pleading, while Wolverine takes another strap and wraps it around Reader's chest, limiting their struggling even more.

"Shhhh, shhhh, I know, cub, I know. It's all scary, but this is fer yer own good. We need ta keep ya still while we give ya yer medicine. Shhhhh. It'll only take a minute. We know, we know, it doesn't make sense to ya, but it will, okay? Just try ta take a few deep breaths, 'kay, cub?"

The two take that time to wrap thick padded cuffs around Reader's ankles, then moving up and strapping another around their stomach. Sabreooth slowly unlocked the handcuffs,, removing the metal bindings around both their wrists, soon replacing it with a soft, plush one, tying it down and rubbing his thumb across Reader's knuckles. When Reader tried to bite, wailing louder and crying, a pair of hands holds their head still, while another pair straps their neck down.

"Shhhh... We did the hard part, 'kay, cub? It's over. All we have ta do now is give ya yer medicine. That doesn't sound too bad, does it?"

A choked sob breaks free from Reader, and they feel a large hand wrap around their smaller one. They can hear shuffling, soon followed by the sharp scent of a drug. They feel their heart pounding in their chest, the weight of the strap only making it worse. They can't see either of their old mentors, but they can hear them and smell them, only adding to their paranoia.

"Okay, cub, we're all ready. Yer gonna feel a small pinch, and then yer gonna start ta feel a little sleepy. 'Kay?" Reader tries to say something, but only manages to hiccup, tears rolling down their cheeks. The hand holding their's tightens, rubbing and squeezing, burning hot against Reader's chilled skin. A sharp cold touches their upper arm, and Reader tries to jerk away, but the straps hold firm.

Then a sharp prick is felt, and the needle slips in.

A tingling, cool liquid enters, and one of them starts to count down.

"Ten... Nine... Eight... Seven... Six... Five... Four... Three... Two... And one."

The needle pulls out, and a small pat is given to their arm. Reader tries to force themself to stay panicked, to keep their terror and fear in their mind, but the drug slowly works it way in, numbing their thoughts up. They can feel their breaths gradually slowing, their heartbeats softening, their emotions slowly calming down. "Wh't... wh' d'd y' gi' m'...?" they mumble, their words slurring thickly together. Their muscles have relaxed, and keep doing so, furthering the spread of the sedative. Their face feels wet, and they feel tired. A yawn pushes past their lips, then they feel their eyes start to shut. They try to push them open, but only manage a small flutter before they fall close again. They feel all tired and doze-y... Their thoughts are foggy and cloudy and soft... Heh. All soft like a blanket.... or cloud... or a nice fur. Heeeeh. They like being all soft and cuddly. A small chuckle leaves them, and then they feel themself pulled softly under, falling into a quiet, gentle sleep.

"Look at ya, cub... Ya already feel better, don't'cha? Just take a nap, little one. Yer papa's here." He runs his hand through his cub's hair, marveling at how peaceful they are when asleep. His brother chuckles a little, a grin peeking through.

Their cub is so cute.

They deserve ta feel good. Ta feel loved. Ta feel calm an' happy an' safe.

Maybe they had ta use... harsher methods... but it worked, didn't it? Their kid is finally gettin' the rest they need, feeling' completely at peace an' unable ta feel scared er frightened.

It's worth it, isn't it?

"Sleep tight, cub. We love ya."

They patiently undo the straps, careful as they release Reader from their bindings. Once they're free, Victor picks them up, settling them against him. The two already alerted the Professor and the other adults about what they'd done, how Reader was feeling better. After all, it was their idea, wasn't it? And look how well it worked out. They take their cub back to the room they'd put together for them, and settle them into the blankets and sheets. One of them decides to stay with them, letting their brother go back to help their cub's siblings and let them know how it went. His arms are wrapped around them, keeping them pulled into his embrace. Their soft breaths fill the air, their scent that of a calm and snow and honey. It brings a smile to his face.

His cub sure is sweet, even after all these years. Sure, they had ta help them a bit, but it finally made them feel better, right? So why worry about it more than that? He knows they'll wake up, an' they'll have ta try again ta earn their trust, their acceptance... But maybe addin' a small bit of medicine ta their food will help them, yeah? At least make them sleepy er relaxed enough so they won't run away again. So they an' their group can try to rebuild their bonds with Reader.

Heh.

It sounds like a plan.

"I love ya, cub..."

And with that, he pulls them closer, snuggling his sleeping child and joining then in their peaceful dreams...

(Note: Sabretooth and Wolverine are brothers and platonic, okay? They just decide to both parent and be dads for Reader. Sabretooth's dialogue is in black and Wolverine's dialogue is in orange. I left it up to you decide which one cuddles with Reader/you at the end😊 Did you enjoy the fic? Please, let me know! And feel free to make art for this part of the ❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU if you want, okay, @danni1323? You and everyone else can make art for this and the rest of the ❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU and Multiverse, if y'all want to😊💛)

[starcrossedxwriter]

Wicked Fantasies Part 5 (MBJ x OC)

Warnings: Slow burn, NSWF… All the past warnings and series warnings apply lol this is just pure filth lol not gonna lie.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle Turner. Welcome to Le Hotel Shangri-La Paris. We hope you had a pleasant travel experience? I know you must be tired.” 

As if her body wanted to respond to the concierge who was leading her through the hotel, her only response was a deep yawn that made him hum in agreement. 

“Sorry… the jet lag is rough.” She had been so anxious on the flight that she had barely slept. She had thought of a million random things… the dangers of traveling alone, even though she was meeting someone else, how much time Michael would actually have to spend with her, if it was even safe to travel halfway around the world with a man she met a little over a month ago, how she knew precious little about what even they were going to do for a week. She had just boarded a flight and asked little to no questions. Once she was on the flight, it dawned on her that if something went wrong, she knew nothing and no one there. Just Michael. But still, despite those practical concerns, she did not regret the decision. She was hopeful that it was going to be as amazing as she imagined it would be as she prepared all week.

She took a sip of the glass of champagne they gave her upon arrival. She could now fully understand why the wealthy were so determined to remain so if this was how they lived. This was high living, high cotton as her grandma used to say. From the moment she stepped out of her apartment building to right now, she had not had to use her brain to think of a single thing. Everything was taken care of. She had not even touched a single piece of her luggage since she left the apartment. When she landed in Paris, she had a moment of panic as she realized she did not know how to get to her hotel. She was about to make a beeline toward a taxi when she spotted a burly driver holding a sign up with her name who took her straight to the hotel. 

The hotel was something plucked straight out of every novel she had ever read about kings and queens, a converted palace drenched in finery and elegance. The marble hallways gilded in gold, tall ceilings donned with crystal chandeliers. It was as if she had stepped back in time and was headed to a ball. And it had all been thoughtfully arranged by a certain prince. 

“Well, Mr. Jordan ensured your suite would be ready when you arrived so you can rest. Though I tend to recommend remaining awake if you can. We are in a fantastic location. There is much to see and do and we have a car here for you. Monsieur Martin, the gentleman who picked you up from Charles de Gaulle? He will be your driver during your stay. He can take you anywhere you’d like.” 

“Thank you.” 

“This,” the man opened the door to her suite. “Is our suite Chaillot.” He pushed open the door and held it so Raven could enter first, her eyes widening as she took in the suite. 

She stood in the living room, sitting her backpack on the couch as she scanned the space. The entire room felt serene, designed in shades of taupe and teal that made the space feel extremely homey for a hotel. Her hand rubbed the soft velvet fabric of the couch as she glanced around, her eyes landing on the French doors that led to her terrace. 

“Ah the best part, in my opinion,” he smiled as he watched her take a step toward the terrace. He walked over to the double doors that led to the wraparound terrace and pushed them open. 

Raven followed him outside, her eyes landing on the Eiffel Tower in the distance. She was shocked at how close it was, just over the river. 

“A perfect view of our crown jewel. Mr. Jordan’s suite and this one have my favorite views in the hotel. Some would argue that Bonaparte’s apartment has the best view but I must disagree.”

“That is spectacular,” she muttered as she leaned against the concrete railing. Paris had always been on her bucket list, one of those cities and destinations that everyone went to and raved about. She wondered if it would live up to the hype and it was already exceeding it. 

“Would you like us to set up breakfast out here for you in the morning? 9 a.m.?”

“Yes, please.” 

“Excellent. I will leave you to rest.” A knock at the door interrupted him. “Oh there are your bags. Please call down to the concierge if you would like the car brought around for you or if you need anything else. Mr. Jordan asked me to give you this,” he handed her a card from his pocket. “I hope you enjoy your stay with us and your time in Paris.”

He opened the door and helped the men place her two suitcases into the bedroom before giving her a nod and closing the door behind him. She had likely gone overboard packing but she wanted options. 

Raven stared at the door for a few moments before turning to get a 360 view of the suite. She tapped the card on her palm as she walked to the bedroom. She kicked off her sneakers and promptly flopped down onto the bed with a content giggle. 

“What the fuck is my life right now?” She whispered. 

She opened the envelope and smiled as she read his writing. 

Welcome to Paris. Kept me on my toes wondering if you were gonna come, not gonna lie. Figured you’d want the day to rest and I have press and events until late tonight. I set up treatments for you at the spa starting at 4 and got you a day pass so you can relax by the pool there. Enjoy the night and I’ll come by when I get back if you’re still awake.

Michael

Raven let out the most childish squeal of her life before letting her arm fall onto the bed. She had made an agreement with herself on the plane that she was going to indulge in all the luxuries Michael offered and she could afford to. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and, she knew, the only one she would get with Michael before they broke up. She was determined to enjoy every second of it. And she appreciated that he seemed to know a day of pampering was exactly what she needed. 

She glanced around, realizing she still had almost six hours until her spa treatments. She quickly grabbed another athleisure set from her bag and hopped in the shower. After a quick but still luxurious shower, she felt slightly more awake and refreshed and slid back on her shoes to go on a walk. She grabbed her wallet and AirPods before heading to the lobby. 

“Mademoiselle, would you like me to have the car brought around?” The concierge asked as she walked through the lobby. 

However, she quickly shook her head. “No, I think I’ll just walk. Thanks!” 

She would certainly get plenty of use out of the car while she was there but today, she just wanted to roam. She wanted to see the shops and people watch and just enjoy being in a new city. She put in her headphones and slid on her sunglasses before venturing down a random side street. Naturally, her feet gravitated toward the Eiffel Tower. She spent over two hours roaming the expansive parks surrounding it, getting a million pictures of the tower and selfies by the river. She knew she was giving strong tourist vibes but she could not hope to care.

She stopped for lunch at this small sandwich shop and bought a crepe from a street vendor for her walk back. By the time she returned, it was almost time for her spa evening. Not only was she thankful for the manicure, pedicure, facial, and massage, she was grateful Michael once again arranged everything for her. She was far too tired to use her brain for anything useful. She knew she was beyond exhausted when she laid down on the massage table and was asleep before the man even truly started. She only remembered him touching her shoulders before he had to wake her up and tell her the two hours were done. But every muscle in her body felt 10x more relaxed than when she first laid down so she knew it had been a success. 

She almost forewent dinner but was able to stay awake long enough to order and wait for room service. However, as soon as she finished eating, she settled into the couch and dozed off. She did not take the extra steps to get in the bed or put her phone on sleep mode because she did not want to miss Michael knocking on her door when he was back. Though she knew he would happily wait until tomorrow to see her just so he did not wake her up, she did not want that. She wanted to see him… tonight. 

And she was not disappointed when a loud knock jolted her out of her sleep. She quickly jumped up and wiped her mouth, feeling a bit of drool from her deep sleep. 

“Gross,” she muttered as her body protested getting up. 

She ran her fingers through her hair, which she had gotten blown out and pressed before the trip, knowing she had messed it up slightly by forgetting to wrap it before falling asleep. She almost tripped over her backpack to get to the door and swing it open. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi,” she offered with a smile, attempting to hide some of the excitement she felt at seeing him. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you… know it’s late.” 

She stepped aside so he could enter. “Don’t worry about it. You invited me, seems like I could stay awake long enough to say hi. This suite is insane. You could’ve just put me up in a regular room in a hotel that doesn’t cost thousands a night, you know?” 

She gave him a quick once over as he walked into the suite and perched on the arm of the couch. He was in a gorgeous red suit, perfectly tailored to his form as if it was his own skin. He looked sexy as fuck. But she could tell he was just as, if not more, exhausted than her. His usual perfect posture lacked a bit, his shoulders hunched over as if he could not hold them up any longer. His lips were tugged down in a frown and his nose was scrunched up a bit, which he typically only did when something was wrong. 

He merely shrugged and winked at her. “Maybe a regular nigga woulda done that. But that ain’t me. Have a good flight and everythin’?” 

She yawned. “Yea, didn’t sleep much but first class was…” she did the motion to say chef’s kiss causing Michael to grin brightly. 

It had only been a week but he missed her. Getting to see her this week had been the light at the end of this hellish tunnel of a press tour. He loved his job, he was living his dream and he was beyond blessed to do so. But the grind was exhausting. He had been working nonstop for almost a decade, between projects and press tours, he went and never stopped. Perhaps because he was on the most important run of his career, the pressure, the exhaustion, the weight of it all felt like tons on his back this time around. But with Raven here, he would have a reprieve, however brief each day. He could be whoever he needed to be with her and that was the rest he did not know he needed until he stood in her presence. 

“Walked around for a couple hours. Got a crepe just on the side of the road… which I’m gonna gain like 100 pounds this week between that and the pastries. The spa treatments were amazing… well, at least the ones I was awake for,” they both laughed. “Thank you for this. Seriously. Haven’t had a vacation in a while..”

“Good, I’m glad. And I know, that’s why I invited you. Glad you’re here. Oh I wanted to give you this,” he pulled out his wallet and slid out his Black card and put it in her hand. 

The mere weight of the card in her hand let her know the limit on it did not exist. 

She held it up between two of her fingers. “What’s this for?” 

“A couple things. I got a photoshoot tomorrow. Got one surprise for you in the morning but then it’s all you until the late afternoon. Then I got reservations for us for dinner. Whatever you wanna do, charge it to that card. Day after, my stylist is gonna take you shopping. All his favorite shops, they’ll pull pieces. He is instructed to ensure you buy anything you like. Don’t argue. In fact…” He glanced around for a moment and eyed her wallet on the dining table before grabbing it. 

“Hey!” She rushed forward and started grabbing at it but he held it over his head, knowing she was too short to take it from him. He held it up and rifled inside it, finding every card that could be used as currency and the cash she brought to convert. He held those in a tight grip in his fist while putting his card in it and handing her the striped wallet that now only had his card and her ID. “Give those backkk.” 

“Not a chance. I invited you so I’m payin’ for everything. The only card you touch till you land back in LA is that one. And you’ll get these back when we get home. Understood?” 

“I can’t accept that! I will happily pay for whatever I want to do when we aren’t together.” 

“You can and will accept it. I order you to,” his hand grabbed her chin to force her eyes to his. 

“I’m not on my knees… who says you can give orders right now?” She smirked at the way his eyes seemed to light up at her sass, her bratty attitude. 

He chuckled. “I see someone already forgot they have a punishment waitin’ huh? You wanna add to it?” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she offered with a innocent smile. 

Michael tucked that away for later. Once she got over that little jet lag, he was going to tear that ass up. 

“Besides, the stores he’s takin’ you to… well, they ain’t all just for you. There’s one store where he’ll wait outside. A lingerie boutique. The staff is under specific instructions not to let you leave without, at least, one set for every night of the week. Figured I should get somethin’ out of this shopping spree.” 

Raven’s lips turned into a playful grin. “Well that does only seem fair, I suppose. Any special requests for that particular store?” 

“One set needs to be black and gold. Otherwise, it’s all you.” 

She raised an eyebrow as she realized why he wanted her in black and gold. Visions of Erik Killmonger immediately flooded her mind and a couple of visions that she knew she could never breathe out loud. Her mental break must have been obvious because Michael waved his hand to get her attention. 

“What was that?” 

“Oh nothing, nothing,” she immediately lied and cleared her throat. 

“Nahh, none of that. Tell me or I’ll double your punishment.” 

Raven wondered if she should see how far she could take it. However, she quickly remembered that he never said exactly what the punishment was going to be so she could be playing with fire. 

“I just… maybe thought about how it’s a shame you couldn’t keep your suit… from the movie,” her eyes got quiet with embarrassment. 

Michael let out a barking laugh that made her cover her face with her hands in embarrassment. 

“Baby girl, if you wanna role play, just say so.” 

She shrugged. “Eh without the hair,” she gestured up at his freshly cut fade. “It’s not the same.” 

“Really, it’s the hair?” he asked. 

She shrugged. “I mean no, it’s 100% the abs and your face. Like no one’s getting wet just cause of the hair,” she chuckled. “But the hair is the difference between you fuckin’ me as you and you sellin’ the fantasy that Erik is fuckin’ me. Otherwise it’ll just be you with a deeper voice and ruder tone,” she waved her hand dismissively. “But just… remember me for Black Panther 3 when you gotta grow the hair out again. Won’t even charge you for that date, promise.”  

He bit down the retort that he could never forget her. 

“Deal.” They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Um. Friday through Sunday is all us. Do some research, let me know if there’s anything you wanna do. Figured we could hit all the big tourist things and shit. But it’s up to you. Never asked you - you been here before?” 

Raven shook her head. “Nah, went to Amsterdam after I got my MFA to celebrate but my passport hasn’t seen much love since,” she admitted. 

“MFA?”

“Masters in Fine Arts. That’s when I wrote my manuscript for my book.”

“Learn somethin’ new about you every day.”  

“I’ll do some googling, talk to my driver and see what he thinks we should do.” 

“Aight. Sounds like a plan. I’m gonna let you go to bed.” He stood up again and started to walk toward the door. 

Though she desperately needed sleep, she could not help the way her face fell at the idea of him leaving. “We aren’t gonna…” 

The disappointment on her face, those perfect puppy eyes she gave him, likely with no conscious thought on her end, made him want to amend his statement. This girl? She would be the end of him but a glorious end indeed. However, he knew he shouldn’t and that she deserved a night to actually get sleep this week. 

“Oh I plan on fuckin’ you on every surface in this room and mine for the next week. Don’t worry. But not tryin’ to have you fall asleep on me. Take tonight, get situated and get over the jet lag.” 

“Understood.” 

He leaned on the door handle for a moment before turning to her. “Don’t fall asleep on the couch again,” he warned. “Get in bed… bad for your back. And you’re gonna need all your limbs workin’at their best this week. See you tomorrow.” 

She merely giggled as he opened her door and left. However, before the door slammed shut, she ran forward and stuck her head in the hall searching for him. 

“Hey!” She called after him, causing him to turn around at the end of the hallway. “Thank you again… for all of this.” 

“Don’t mention it.” He threw her his boyish grin before disappearing into the elevator. 

***

“A bit early for a summons, don’t you think?” Raven moaned playfully as she walked out onto Michael’s terrace. The sun sat high in the sky, a slight breeze making the late fall morning a bit frigid. 

He merely laughed and gestured toward the empty seat across from him, the table outside heavy laden with breakfast foods. 

“Have a late start today, figured we could eat breakfast. How’d you sleep? Feelin’ alright?” She could hear the cockiness in his voice. 

Raven’s eyes narrowed. “Like a baby… never felt better. Thanks for asking.”

While that was not necessarily true, she would not let him know that. He had done a number on her last night in all the best ways. Even as she sat there smiling at him innocently, she had to avoid shifting uncomfortably to ease the discomfort of her sore ass. Her punishment had been long and severe, her body draped over his lap as he spanked her 50 times. He had dragged it out, the spankings split up by his finger teasing her entrance but never letting her cum. That is until she was in a pool of tears with a bruised ass begging for mercy. After that, he let her cum more times than she could remember or count. It was the first time he left her with actual bruises but she did not mind, it was a punishment she would endure over and over again for those results. 

“Good to know for next time. I was goin’ easy on you. Besides, you were such a good girl last night, I have a treat for you.” 

Raven’s eyes twinkled. “The shopping spree I’m about to go on isn’t the treat?” His stylist, Brian, had sent her a list of all the stores they were going to today and Raven could not wait. She was not one to care much for labels, after all there were more important things. However, it was clear that she had free reign to shop until her heart dropped. Such a rare opportunity she knew she could not waste. 

“Nope. This one… well I think you’ll enjoy it.” 

Raven smiled as she took a sip from her cup of hot chocolate. Michael handed her a plate, piled high with fruit and pastries, which she devoured as they sat in silence. 

“How was the library yesterday?” Michael asked as he continued eating. 

Thus far, her experience had been something straight out of a novel. She could not have written a more perfect fairytale herself. She had woken up yesterday to a similar spread on her own terrace, complete with a mimosa. She listened to R&B music as she sat out there in her nightgown for over an hour. The only thing that broke her out of the peace trance was a call from the concierge letting her know her car would be ready at 11 for a surprise. 

She tried her hardest to guess what the surprise could be or coax it out of her driver but there was too much to see and do to pinpoint what Michael had set up. She had started a list of things she wanted to see when he finally had time off but she had fallen asleep with her phone in her hand. 

She still was not sure why he was going to such lengths for her. The cost of her hotel alone was more than most people made in a year. She knew the price, to him, was comparable to putting her up in a four star hotel for a regular man. However, she still struggled with accepting such extravagance, and could not stop the intrusive thoughts that questioned whether she was worth so much money and effort. After all, they were going to break up in a few months. She tried not to allow that to disappoint her every time her brain reminded her heart of that simple fact. That was what she signed up for: a relationship with a firm expiration date. Her brain knew that. Her heart though? It did not care about the practicalities of what she signed up for. It only cared for how he made her feel: wanted, appreciated, cared for. 

And that was rare air. 

Still, she could not help but wonder why he even invited her there in the first place. He mentioned no events he needed her to attend with him, no public appearances in which he needed a woman on his arm. Yesterday and today, she was on her own. He had essentially paid an exorbitant amount to give her a vacation for a week. She was itching to get to the later half of the week when they would actually be able to spend time together. When it was just the two of them, Michael became the singular space in this world where no one wanted anything from her. She could just be. Sometimes she had everything to give and sometimes, like her birthday, she had nothing. And he seemed to accept either without judgment or question. And she needed that. 

Yesterday, his surprise was a guided tour of the oldest public library in Paris, Le Bibliothèque Mazarine. Raven had a ball as she took in the insanely beautiful architecture and special collections the curator showed her. She simultaneously loved and despised him for it, for his thoughtfulness and how in tune he was with her. 

“It was gorgeous… the architecture?? God, there are so many gorgeous libraries in the world. This was certainly one of them. Can’t wait till I can afford a house and build out a giant library in the basement,” she mused. “That’s the dream.” 

Michael silently put that knowledge away for later. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Figured, you know, given your day job, it might be cool.” 

“It was. And it’s not just… my day job. I’ve always loved libraries. You know I used to spend hours at the library down the street from us? Holed up in a corner with a stack of books or my homework. Knew every person who worked there by name. They’d have to kick me out at closing,” she chuckled as she wiped the flakes of her chocolate croissant from her lips. “I had a favorite corner, by this window that overlooked the park across the street. You could hear the kids playing. If I wasn’t at school or at home, I was in that spot.” 

“No one ever cared that you weren’t home?” 

She scoffed, holding her mug tightly in her hands as she cozied up in her chair, one leg coming to her chest. Michael loved how relaxed she looked. She had not gotten fully ready for the day yet, no make up, her hair in a high ponytail. She was dressed in a casual dress with a slouchy oversized sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder. Her back was to the Eiffel Tower and somehow one of the most beautiful structures in the world was still eclipsed by her natural beauty. He could not take his eyes off her. 

“After my grandmother passed? Nope. And by high school, I preferred to just be out of the house anyway. Everyone just pretended like I wasn’t there so it hurt less… to just not be there. Spent time at friends’ houses or at the library or I was at school but that was really it. But it was good. When all you do is read and study, you tend to do well in school.” 

“No parties? No fun?” Michael asked, part of him not believing she engaged in nothing fun or reckless as a kid.. 

She laughed. “No, not really. I don’t think I even drank until I was in college. I was so boring back then, which is why my first career choice… well anyone who knew me would’ve thought it was an odd one.”

“Why’d you pick stripping? Plenty of ways to make money.” 

“Needed something I could do at night, after classes and my work study job. Doesn’t require past experience and the owner liked that I looked young, had the whole innocent girl doe-eyed thing going for me. I picked up on the dancing and tricks pretty quickly too. It was fun… in its own way.”

“Who taught you your moves?” 

“Monique… best dancer I ever saw. Taught me every trick in the book. She had been dancing for like 5 years when I started. Took me under her wing, I guess.” 

“Really? That’s a long time.” 

Raven shrugged, leaning on the table as she reminisced on a time that felt like eons ago. “Everyone does it for a different reason. Some don’t have much of a choice, some are working their way through something else, like I did. And some girls really liked it. Monique was a girl who really liked it. And it showed. She was saving up to open her own burlesque club, which I think she did a couple years ago.” 

“Did you like it?” 

She stared off into space for a moment before answering. “I guess it was nice to be the center of attention… the spotlight for once. I was a wallflower 20 hours a day but during my shift, I was more. Men wanted me, some of the girls wanted to be me. I didn’t hate it. I don’t miss it… but I miss who I was on that stage. The confidence, the power… it was something. Could never quite get it to translate to regular life though. Certainly couldn’t get it to translate to being a working girl,” she grimaced. “It’s just not the same though.” 

“And you never felt exploited by it? Or scared?” 

She shook her head. “Not any more than cat calling on the street makes me feel scared. First thing Monique told me when I met her - Sex is power, one of the few powers that women inherently have that men don’t. Always has been and always will be. And it's the one power that, try as they might, they can’t take away. Everyone sees it and their place in it differently. But I always remembered that they were there to see me, spend money on me. And whether they had a good night or not, whether they went home satisfied and happy, that was all my decision. And I liked that.” He liked the sparkle in her eyes as she talked about that time. “I dunno if stripping is proper breakfast conversation.” 

“It ain’t but I like it anyway. One last question… tell me your name?” At her confused expression, he clarified. “The one you used at the club.” 

“Give me my treat and I’ll tell you.” 

Michael gestured for her to stand up. “Come here.” 

She walked over to him and stood between his legs. His hands took free reign, running up her toned legs beneath her dress, tightly gripping her ass, which made her hiss in pain.

“I thought you never felt better?” 

“Shut up,” she mumbled with a small huff. 

He shifted a few of the dishes out of the way before pulling her sweatshirt and dress off, leaving her in nothing but her panties. He pushed her gently, a silent but clear instruction to lay down. 

She glanced behind her at the pastries and food. “Someone’s gonna have to clean all this up if they fall.” 

“Guess you’ll have to be careful then.” At her continued hesitation, he smiled. “I’ll leave a bigger tip for the staff, aight? Now lay tf down.” 

At his command and assurance that the staff would be compensated for their games, she gently laid back, cringing as she heard one plate crash down onto the stone floor as Michael pulled off her panties. He draped her legs over his shoulders and leaned forward in his seat, his face eye level with her prize. 

“W-what are you doing?” She asked quietly, the anticipation getting to her as he merely stared at her. She squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze.  

“About to finish breakfast,” he muttered as if it was obvious. “This is better than anything else on this table.” 

And with that, he slid a finger inside her, Raven’s back immediately arching off the table. She bit down on her lip hard to stop a moan from escaping her as he wrapped his lips around her clit. He glanced up at her and stopped. 

“I wanna hear you. And I want everyone in this hotel to hear you.” 

And with that, he devoured her. Michael loved any chance he got to taste her and find himself nestled between her thighs with her pleasure completely at his mercy. However, today was particularly special. This was the most relaxed he had ever seen her, the most at peace she had been since he met her. And it did not hurt that the backdrop for his favorite meal was the best view of his favorite city. 

One hand kept her firmly in place as she writhed on the table while the other, in sync with his tongue, did nothing short of the Lord’s work. 

Her hips rolled to meet every thrust of his fingers. 

“You like that, baby girl?” He moaned as he slid another finger inside her, both of them curling into her g-spot at a quick speed.

“F-Fuck! Yes, yes! I l-love it!” She cried out loudly, knowing her voice most certainly would carry to their neighbors. But with the promise of an orgasm at the end of this, she could not hope to care. 

Michael certainly had pushed her limitations farther than she would have expected since they started “dating.” Everything he tried, she loved. Every limit he pressed against, she yielded and every time? It exceeded her wildest dreams and fantasies. Public sex was one of those lines she always wanted to cross but knew it was too wild to do so. And yet, Michael seemed to know all her fantasies, even the ones she felt were too wild and wicked to speak out loud. 

Michael reached over and grabbed a piece of ice from the ice bucket that held a bottle of champagne. He could tell she was so consumed by his fingers that she did not even notice. But she would. 

He put the ice in his mouth while he continued to fuck her, sucking on it for a few moments before diving back in. The moment his cold lips and tongue touched her sensitive bud, she came. Fast and hard as if someone had pushed her off a cliff without warning. She could not control the loud slew of expletives that escaped her lips as he sucked, the cold temperature sending shivers of pleasure through her whole body. 

“That’s it. Scream for daddy,” he muttered as he talked her through her orgasm. However, he was far from done and far from letting her tap out as he put another cube in his mouth and pressed it directly against her clit. 

“I-It’s too m-much!” She clamped her legs around his head, her entire body nearly seizing up from the pressure and pleasure the cold provided. She tried to shy away from it, moving hastily, causing another dish to crash around them. But his firm palm on her stomach stopped her from getting away. 

“Nah, you said you were better than ever. You can take this shit. Open your fuckin’ eyes.”

She forced her eyes open as tears spilled out, “M-Michael… I-I’m g-gonna cu-cum…” 

“Let ‘em hear you. Whose pussy is this?” He demanded, lifting his head as he added another finger and hammered into her. “Look at me!” He ordered, towering over her body with such dominance that, even without him touching her, she could’ve cum on the spot. 

She locked eyes with him as he added another finger, four in total and pressed roughly into her spot. She could see her juices glistening in the sun on the hairs of his beard. She hoped he would give her a taste, she loved it when he had her to taste herself.  

“It’s yours!” She cried out loudly, louder than she would’ve liked, as she came all over his hand again. 

“That’s right. Good girl,” he talked her through her orgasm before pulling out of her. 

He held his fingers up to her face, all four completely covered in her juices. “Suck.” 

She opened her mouth immediately and propped herself up, sucking with earnestness as she enjoyed the taste of herself. 

“You like the way you taste, baby?” He asked, enjoying the feeling of her warm mouth on his fingers. 

She merely hummed her response and showed him how much by continuing to suck on his fingers. When she was satisfied she cleaned them to the best of her ability, she released them with a pop and a smile that made Michael want to fall to his knees and start over again. 

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered before leaning over and kissing her softly. 

She let out a sharp exhale before collapsing back against the table with a chuckle. 

“That was… fucking amazing,” she muttered as she laid there, completely naked, contemplating the meaning of life. “You wanna do that every morning this week?” 

“Sounds like a good ass time to me.” She started to move off the table when a strong hand gripped her thigh, halting her movements. “I didn’t tell your ass to move. Lay there till I’m done.” He picked back up his coffee mug and his phone before grabbing his previously discarded plate. 

She wanted to protest but instead she merely laid back down as instructed. From that moment until the end of his breakfast, he treated her like a mere centerpiece of the table. Something to gaze upon and fondle but nothing more. He disappeared into his bedroom once, returning a few moments later. He said nothing and offered her no explanation as he held out nipple clamps, both connected with a chain. He worked in silence as he put both of them on her erect buds before settling down to resume his coffee. Her eyes twisted up for a moment at the sharp pain before it settled down to a dull ache. With the clamps, everything felt 10 times more sensitive, even the cool breeze made her want to touch her aching boobs. But she had been scolded once already for moving so she merely laid there.

Her eyes followed his frame as he sauntered around the terrace with his coffee cup, lazily refilling it as he scrolled on his phone. His joggers sat low on his hips, showcasing that perfect V that led to one of her favorite parts of him. She licked her lips, wishing he had allowed her to taste him as he had her. Lust curled in her belly as she watched his muscles flex as he moved around. Here she was, laying on a table in the middle of Paris like a human flower arrangement, and all she could think about was how sexy he was. A God among men. 

Every so often, he would return to her and tug on the chain connecting the clamps, sending jolts of pleasurable pain right to her core. And after, he’d give her a bite of whatever pastry he was continuing to eat. She appreciated him remembering that the rest of her breakfast had been a sacrificial lamb to their activities. 

This continued until his manager called him. Michael reminded her that good girls keep quiet before he answered, putting the phone on speaker to incentivize her. She had to stifle a laugh as she heard him say he was just “enjoying a lazy morning on the terrace” before heading to an event. She listened as they talked about the film and numbers and his schedule, while he trailed pieces of ice around her nipples and under her breasts and down the soft panes of her stomach. That made her eyes roll back into her head. 

She loved nipple play. She had heard of women orgasming from that alone but she had never experienced it herself. However, as Michael talked about business, he seemed determined to get her there with that alone. The clamps increased the pleasure of every touch as he fondled her.

She thought she would draw blood as she bit down on her lip to stop the moans from escaping her as he played, contrasting the warmth of his mouth with the coldness of the ice when he had to talk. 

“Yea once we settle all this shit with the Coach deal, we’ll be set,” Alex remarked as Michael sat the phone down on Raven’s stomach so he could give each of her boobs the attention they deserved. When he bit down on the swell of her breast, she let out a groan that she prayed was barely audible. It reached his ears, she knew, but the oblivious woman on the other end did not even skip a beat. “How’s Raven enjoying Paris?” 

Michael threw her a smirk and pressed a finger to his lip as he continued doing what he was doing, Raven trying her hardest to quiet the pants of pleasure that wanted to escape. 

“Oh I think she’s enjoyin’ it just fine.” 

“I’m glad. Post something of the two of you while you’re there. Doesn’t have to be much but let’s make sure we’re getting something out of these extra four days you’re spending there instead of continuing to promote your movie.” 

Despite the fog of pleasure, Alex’s words stuck out to Raven, settling into her brain. She did not have the capacity to contemplate them too hard right then but she tucked them away for later. 

“Yes ma’am. I’ll make sure we all get somethin’ out of it. Anything else for me?” he assured her as he pulled the clamps off roughly, causing Raven to clamp her hand over her mouth to muffle the scream as the blood rushed back to her breasts. To top it off, he clamped his mouth around one of them while his fingers pinched the other, causing her whole body to convulse with her third orgasm of the day. And it was not even 10 am yet. 

“Nope, that is it. Have fun today and don’t forget to get something for your favorite manager while you’re there,” Alex continued. 

Raven felt her entire vision go white as she focused all of her attention on muffling the screams of pain and pleasure that were boiling over.

“Sounds good. Listen, I gotta go. Someone here needs my attention. Let’s talk tonight.”  

He signed off quickly, pulling Raven’s hands from her mouth so he could hear the sounds of her pleasure, which were music to his ears. He gave her a few moments to calm down before he leaned over and kissed her. 

“Now you can get up and finish your breakfast. Take your time.” 

“You’re… a menace. I hope you… know that,” she whispered, her hand pressing into her chest as she tried to calm herself down. “It’s not even lunchtime and you’re trying to kill me.” 

“Let’s not pretend like that wouldn’t be a better way to go.” He winked at her before pulling on her arm to help her sit up and disappearing inside to change into his own clothes. 

Raven took a deep breath, her hand massaging one of her aching breasts as she sat there for a moment. She finally forced herself off the table, her legs almost giving out beneath her before she collapsed into his chair. She grabbed a few pieces of fruit and a danish as she sat there, contemplating how he continued to manage to surprise her. 

. 

She took a moment and gathered her thoughts before she slid her clothes back on just as Michael emerged back onto the terraces in a burnt orange sweater and slacks. 

“You good? Enjoyed your treat?” 

“Yea… yea I did. Can’t tell if it was more for you or me though.” 

“First part was for you, second was for me. Now you’re relaxed and can go spend all my money. Brian’ll be waiting for you downstairs in an hour. Don’t forget… black and gold.” 

“I’ll see what I can do.” She winked at him before walking past him to head back to her suite. 

***

Raven could not believe how quickly the week seemed to pass her by. She could not help but be sad that it was already almost over. Their flight home was tomorrow and despite having a week there, it did not feel like enough. She had enjoyed every single second of it, particularly the last three days with Michael. They spent those days hitting everything they could think of, the major tourist attractions and some off the beaten path. 

Michael had clearly forgone his diet for this particular trip and the pair ate any and everything that looked remotely good, particularly anything with carbs. She savored this long stretch of uninterrupted time the pair had together. At home, they just saw each other for dates and talked on the phone at night. But the last three days, they were together from breakfast until the moment he finished and she slid out of his bed to return to her own. It made her sad to leave in the middle of the night, to end their private time together, but she knew she had to. They took tons of pictures, the least curated ones they had ever taken. Neither of them cared to pretend these were for the masses and tabloids when they were just for them, their opportunity to capture those moments together. 

By the time they returned to the hotel Sunday afternoon, Raven could not hide her melancholy attitude about having to leave. 

“You good?” Michael asked as he escorted her back to her suite.

“Yea, yea,” she smiled sadly. “Just sad to be leaving. Not gonna get another experience like this for a long while,” she shrugged. “But once-in-a-lifetime experiences aren’t called that for nothing, I guess.” She leaned on the door frame of her suite. 

“Well… surprises ain’t over yet. Couple things waiting for you in there. Get some rest, make up and hair will be here at 7. Be dressed and downstairs at 8.” 

“That’s all you’re gonna give me??” 

“Wouldn’t be a surprise if I gave you anythin’ else. See you at 8.” And with that, he turned to head back to his own suite. 

Raven quickly entered her own room, racing to the bedroom to find the black and gold lingerie set she bought laying out on the bed. Next to it lay a jewelry box set and hanging on her closet door was black dress that was fit for someone heading to a ball. She opened the box to find diamond earrings and a diamond choker necklace waiting for her. 

“God I love him,” she whispered to herself as she took everything in. And she did, she loved him. She could never say it or admit it to anyone but God and herself but she did. And it was not the material things, it was his thoughtfulness… that he would even think to arrange something like this for them. That’s what she loved. And that is what she would miss when it was all said and done. 

Raven did not get any rest as Michael instructed. She merely laid in bed, scrolling on tik tok and counting down the minutes until she could get dressed. Around 6:30, she got up and got in the shower, taking her time before Michael’s team arrived. 

They worked quickly but efficiently and had her dressed and ready to go by 7:50. She spent five minutes just staring at herself in the mirror. She spun around a couple of times, examining the dramatic dress Michael had chosen for her. It was unlike anything she would have gravitated toward herself but she loved it. It was a showstopping, head turning dress. She always felt like a million bucks when she and Michael went out. But tonight? Tonight, she felt like billions. 

Brian took a couple photos of her on the terrace since the sun was setting before she left her room to meet Michael. As promised, he was waiting in the foyer for her in a black tux. It was simple but he looked gorgeous. And as she got closer, she realized the detailing on his jacket matched that of the bodice of her dress. 

She stretched her arms out as if to ask what he thought, the actor completely silent as he took her in. 

Raven bit her painted lip, fear gripping her as she mistook his silence for displeasure. “D-do you not like it?” However, before he could give her an answer, she answered for him. “It’s not what you wanted is it? Fuck. I’m sorry… I t-thought the dress was a little tight but Brian assured me it wasn’t and I knew I shouldn’t have eaten all those damn pastries and crepes this week. But I’m a slave to a crepe,” she moaned pitifully. “Not an ounce of self control. And I didn’t have good enough spanx for this type of dress. I s-should’ve known it didn’t look right. You got me this beautiful dress and I probably look like a fucking whale o-or a busted can of biscuits or something horrible. I’m sorry, I can go change?” she offered, already turning away from him to race upstairs and hide under the covers. 

However, before she made it more than two steps, a force grabbed her and pulled her back. She quickly found herself in his arms, Michael holding her flush to his chest. He kissed her deeply, silencing any more rants, concerns, or criticisms that could have fallen from her lips. He did not want to hear any of them. He pulled back to look at her, his finger on her chin to keep her eyes on his. 

“You gotta let me answer before you start spiraling, baby girl. You are exactly what I wanted and exceeded my expectations. I was speechless because I didn’t think I had the right words to describe how fuckin’ gorgeous you look.” 

“Really?” she asked quietly. 

“Really. One thing I’d never do is lie to you, hope you know that by now. You ready?” 

She nodded and allowed him to lead her out of the hotel and into their limo. They spent most of the car ride recapping the last three days and their favorite parts of the trip. 

Soon they pulled up to a restaurant and Michael led her into the elevator. It went straight up to a rooftop, one that overlooked the entire city. Paris was beautiful any time of day but night time eclipsed all the others in her opinion. 

“Bonjour Mr. Jordan,” a waiter approached them as they stepped off of the elevator. 

He led them to their table, which offered a perfect view of the city. There was a dance floor in the middle of the roof and a small stage that held a string quartet that was softly playing music. The railings were covered in string lights. 

“This place is amazing… how is it so empty?” Raven muttered to Michael as he held out her chair for her to sit. 

“Bought it out just for us.” 

Raven shook her head in disbelief. “No way…” At his completely serious face, she gasped. “Wait, you’re serious? How much did that cost??” 

“Didn’t matter. Wanted to come here and have the place and that view to ourselves.” 

Raven laughed. “That’s wild. Not mad at it though. This view probably makes it worth every penny.” Raven let out a content sigh as she stared off into the depths of Paris, not realizing that the city was not the view Michael was admiring as he muttered. 

“Yea, it does.” 

They settled into content silence as the waiter brought them a bottle of wine and let them know they would be enjoying the chef’s signature tasting menu. Slowly, course after course made its way to them as they talked and enjoyed the evening. By the time they reached dessert, Raven felt as if she was floating on a cloud that she never wanted to come down from. 

The familiar refrain from the string quartet filled her ears. “Oh I love this song,” she muttered more to herself than the man across from her. 

“You recognize it?” 

She nodded. “La Vie en Rose… I know the Louis Armstrong version but pretty sure he covered it in English from a French artist.” 

“Don’t know if I’ve heard that one before. My French is trash,” he chuckled. “What does that phrase mean?”  

“Means to see the world in pink, you know with rose colored glasses essentially. It’s a beautiful song, the lyrics are so romantic.” She paused. “Hold me close and hold me fast. This magic spell you cast… this is la vie en rose. When you kiss me, heaven sighs and though I close my eyes, I see la vie en rose. When you press me to your heart, I’m in a world apart… a world where roses bloom. And when you speak, angels sing from above… everyday words seem to turn into love songs. Give your heart and soul to me and life will always be la vie en rose.” 

The two merely stared at each other as the words settled into the space between them. Raven felt every word of that song with him. But every time she wanted to sink into that feeling, melt into him, her brain stopped her. She merely cleared her throat and chuckled, breaking the trance both of them were in. 

“Don’t ask me to sing it though,” she joked. “I’m dreadful.” She took a long, awkward sip of her wine before Michael stood up and held out his hand. 

“Dance with me.” Since it was only them in the restaurant, the dance floor was wide open and available. 

She glanced at the string quartet as the song transitioned to XO by Beyonce. She hesitated for a moment before sliding her hand into his. He pulled her to the center of the dance floor, their bodies flushed against each other. 

The entire night had been perfect, filled with romance and magic Raven never thought she would have herself. She knew it was for show but she could not deny that there was an intimacy to it that felt… real. Felt like they were truly connecting with each other at a deeper level. When he looked at her, sometimes, she swore she saw it. A twinkle of something too deep… too paralyzing to be mere friendship. But every time, she felt like she imagined it. Maybe even hoped she imagined it because that would be easier. She knew it would not be her but as she looked at him, she could not help but think he enjoyed this. The romance, going above and beyond to show someone you love them. And now he just needed someone, a real someone, to do it with.

She stared at him for a few moments as they swayed in each other’s arms. “Tell me about her.” 

Michael did not need her to elaborate on who she meant. Michael shook his head. He had the perfect woman in his arms, there was not a single woman in his past worth talking about right then.

“Why does she matter?” 

Raven shrugged. “Because she’s gone and you’re still shutting yourself off from things I think… you’re too afraid to admit you really want. You want this,” she gestured between them. “Not with me, obviously,” she chuckled. “But this, this connection with someone who you love and loves you back. Does she really still have so much power that she can take this away from you forever?” 

Michael wished he could grab her shoulders and shake her. So beautiful and so smart yet so oblivious to the hints he was throwing out left and right. He did want those things but not with anyone but her. He had hoped the last week would paint the picture for her. He knew he should just come out and say it himself but he was not brave enough… not yet anyway to admit that he was head over heels for someone again. Because Raven did have that much power. She controlled his heart and very being. And if he said those words to her and she rejected him or broke his heart? She would be the last woman he ever said them to again. 

“Not that interestin’ of a story to be honest. But she was… an actor too. Not super well known but you know, steady workin’ and everythin’. Met on the set of a show I was workin’ on. We hit it of.. She was the first woman to really understand me? Understood my dreams and my ambition. I understood hers, I had been in the industry longer so I helped her out, making connections and all that. We dated for almost three years. First relationship that I saw a real future in, even bought a ring.” He sighed as he glanced down at Raven, their bodies swaying to the music. “But all she cared about was using me to get to the next thing. Saw a text on her phone one night, she was cheating on me with another nigga. Had been for most of the time we were together. Left me for someone with more money, bigger name. We broke up and she acted like it was nothin’... as if three years of living life together hadn’t mattered at all. Felt stupid for not seein’ it, for thinkin’ there was a future there… but also for believin’ she loved me for me. Went on a binge afterward… lots of partyin’, drinkin’, fuckin’ every woman I could see. Decided that if that was all everyone was gonna see or care about, the money and all that… then that’s all I would give.” 

“I’m sorry. No one deserves that. She’s dumb. Too stupid to realize what she had.” She paused. “You can’t give up though… gotta keep trying to find the right girl. Keep reaching out your hand until it happens.”  

“Not all of us have your annoyingly relentless hope and optimism. More worried about my hand getting ripped off.” 

“It might,” she admitted. “But I dunno, I’ve always believed heartbreak is the price we pay for love. At the end of the day, we’re all standing on a giant cliff and when you take that leap with someone, you can’t see the bottom. You just hold hands and you jump and you experience the fall that is living life together until you crash into the water. Whether you’ll enjoy the fall, whether rocks or an oasis are waiting for you, whether your fall is long or short. We have no idea, which is why jumping is so scary. But the only thing that’s certain is the crash at the end because all of it ends. Whether you get the greatest love story that goes on until the end of your life or a tragedy that gets cut short because other shit gets in the way. All of it ends. That’s the price, the fall isn’t forever. But when it ends and that heartache comes, the hope is that you look back on it all and see the life you lived and that it was all worth it. And so you’re willing to pick yourself up, dry yourself off, and go back up to the cliff and do it all over again. If you’re avoiding the crash, you aren’t jumping and that means you aren’t living. And there’s a woman out there somewhere who pulled herself out of the water and 's willing and waiting for you to be ready to take the leap with her. Who knows you’re the person they want to free fall with and who will make it worth it.” She ran her hand over the material of his tuxedo jacket. “It’s a shame because while you’re avoiding the cliff altogether, people don’t get to see how amazing you are.” 

“You really are a writer,” he mused, causing her eyes to crinkle at the corners and her whole body glow. “Only someone who writes love stories can think of some shit like that. But I hear you. I dunno though, most people can see how amazing my life is. I don’t think that’s the problem.” 

Raven scoffed and shook her head. “Your money, the things you can buy?” she gestured around them. “Those are the least interesting things about you,” she remarked flatly. “You’re funny. I would’ve never guessed you were as funny as you are. You’re thoughtful, you see through people, through the bullshit and facades and the walls. You see them, the one they hide from the rest of the world. You’re smart and engaging and so clearly care about every person in your life. Every woman I know wants that. Hell I want that,” she laughed, not noticing the joy that sparked in his eyes at those words. “And all of this is lovely and amazing but most of us can be happy without it. She told you that all you’re worth to people is money and clout and things. But the version of you I see right now is more than enough. And there’s someone out there who knows that too.” 

Her hand cupped his cheek as she spoke, Michael learning in and kissing her softly. She had kissed him many times but there was something different about this one, something that made her want to profess her love for him right then and there. 

She leaned back and studied him for a moment. “I hope… I hope when this ends, that we can still be friends? This was all really special. You made me feel like a real princess this week. Made me feel wanted and cared for in a way most people don’t. I was in… not the best of places when we met. Seeing a lot of darkness and no light at the end of the tunnel. But all of this, I dunno, reaffirms that annoyingly relentless hope and optimism. Things do turn around eventually. And this’ll all end but I’ll never forget the things you’ve done for me since we met.” 

He spun her around for a moment before bringing her close again. 

“I didn’t do anything,” he muttered in her ear. “Just gave you the space to be you. You’re far from a wallflower or sidekick or however you described yourself to me on our first date. You’re powerful, smart, beautiful… promise me you’ll take this version of you, the real you… the main character version of you back to the real world tomorrow. You do that and I’ll work on takin’ your advice,” his hand played with the curls in her hair as he spoke. “And then… what’s that line from Casablanca? We’ll always have Paris.”  

“Seems like we both need to work on seeing ourselves how the other sees us.”

“Well we got plenty of time to work on it.” 

“Yea… guess we got a few more months before I gotta let you go.” She could not hide the sadness in her words. She was resigned, knew their fate but that did not make it hurt any less. 

His heart screamed at him to tell her she didn’t have to let him go. They didn’t have to end just because of some agreement they made under stress. They could try it out for real, love each other for real. But the words felt lodged in his throat. His fears, now top of mind since their conversation, were massive blockages that would not allow it out. He wanted her, it hurt how badly he wanted her. But that terrified him. 

They danced for a few more minutes before the song, which she recognized as All of Me by John Legend, came to an end. 

“Let’s go back to my suite. Got one more surprise.”

Though she did not want the romantic part of the evening to end, she could not deny she was looking forward to the other part of the night. Michael had kept true to his promise and fucked her on every surface in his suite and hers. Her favorite, though, had been that morning on the terrace. She’d never forget that. 

So she put up no argument when he led her back to their limo and whisked her away to the hotel. She hated the time in between the end of their date and the start of their more private moments. Time seemed to inch forward as slowly as possible, the anticipation always felt like torture. She was practically bouncing out of her skin when they finally made it to his suite. 

However, instead of opening the door, he stopped her.

“Close your eyes.” 

The game was starting early, she thought to herself, which signaled she was in for a long and wild night. The romantic Michael was about to disappear and the dominant one would stand in his place. She rolled her eyes and pouted like a brat before following his instructions. However, she could not let the moment pass without a warning. “If you lead me into a door, I’m gonna kill you.” 

“I don’t think French prisons are that nice so wouldn’t recommend that. Trust me, you know I’d never hurt you.” 

She snorted as he led her into his room, her feet taking extremely small tentative steps that made Michael chuckle to himself. After a few steps, he stopped her. 

“Ok open.” 

She blinked a couple times before gasping, her eyes taking in the chrome stripper pole in the middle of his living room. His couch had been pushed away and a singular armchair was in front of the pole like a throne in front of a stage. 

Michael walked into his bedroom and came back with a wad of cash. “Figured you could give me a private show? Besides you forgot to tell me your name the other morning.”  

Raven ran her thumb over the cash, fanning it out lightly. All she saw were hundreds. She stepped around him and walked over to the pole, her manicured nails tapping on the chrome as she strutted around it in her dress. The elegant gown now seemed out of place in a room with a stripper pole. But the lingerie number she had on underneath would fit in perfectly. 

“How much?” 

“What?” He asked as he went over to the decanter in his room and poured two glasses of whiskey. He handed her one, Raven downing it immediately. She needed the extra liquid courage to do what he was requesting.

“Did it cost to convince them to let you pressure mount this into the ceiling?” 

Michael turned off the lights and strode over the chair and sat down, his face and body illuminated by the moonlight and lights from the Eiffel Tower through the giant windows. Raven licked her lips as she took in his power, his body slouched back and his legs spread wide. A king on his throne waiting to be entertained. 

“I’m sure you’ll make it worth every penny.”

She chuckled. “You are something else,” she muttered. “I went by Nova… Name of a character in a book I was reading at the time.” 

He chuckled. “Definitely thought you were gonna say somethin’ a little more out… stereotypical,” he admitted.

Raven snorted. “The market was oversaturated with Candys. Besides, I like to be different.” 

“So tell me, Nova, how often did the niggas you danced for throw benjamins at that fine ass?” He took a sip of his drink. 

“Not often enough.” 

“I imagine you’ll enjoy the experience then. Dance for me.” 

Raven could not help the way her legs clenched together at the demand, the juxtaposition of how he asked her to dance with him a mere hour ago. He turned on the speakers, sultry music filling the room. She had not danced in so long, it was true. She felt like part of her should have been nervous but she was not. It was like riding a bike, a skill she knew she’d never truly lose. And though she may not have the strength to do any tricks anymore, she guessed Michael knew and did not care much about that.

She reached behind her to unzip her dress, allowing it to fall to the floor. She quickly threw it on a chair so it did not get wrinkled on the ground. She kept on her heels, though they were not tall enough to give the effect she wanted. The gold accents of her black lingerie glittered in the moonlight as she approached his chair. Her hips swayed with the music, her hands roamed her own body as she went, her eyes trained on him. 

Once she was in arm’s length, he immediately lifted his hands to grab for her but she stopped and held herself just out of his grasp. She shook her finger at him with a teasing smile. 

“No touching… club rules.” 

Michael letting out a menacing chuckle. “You’re gonna regret that later, baby girl.”

“I don’t think I am, daddy. Rules are rules. You like the lingerie I got for you?” She asked as she turned and leaned back on him, her ass grinding on his lap. She could feel him growing hard beneath her, loved how his hands curled into fists as he physically stopped himself from touching her. 

“Fuckin’ perfect. Think it’ll look better on the floor though…” 

“I dunno, I like it better like this.” 

She knew he was realizing just how out of control he truly was. This was her stage and she had all the power. The power to entice, to tease, to give, and to take away. 

She slid onto her knees beneath him, crawling away from him and back to her pole. She could feel his eyes trained on her ass as she moved. She knew it looked absolutely perfect, it was the main reason she purchased this particular set. She looked like a goddess and she felt like one too. 

For the next 15 minutes, she put on the best show of her life as Michael rained bills on her as if he could not get enough. She allowed the music to flow through her and thought of nothing other than pleasing him. Every movement tailored to his reaction, the spark in his eyes when she spread her legs, the way he bit his lip as she fondled her breasts, how he so clearly resisted undoing his tuxedo pants to pleasure himself when she finally stripped her bra off. She threw it at him, his hand catching it with ease and precision. She allowed herself to get lost in it, lost in the spotlight and the feeling of his eyes laser focused on her. All those things Michael said she was? In that moment, she felt it… like a queen. 

Meanwhile, Michael was beyond mesmerized. He could have watched her dance for hours and hours and it would not have felt like long enough. She moved as if born for a stage of some sort. This was a side of her he had never seen, a woman who knew her power and proudly stood in it. He wished he could punch any and everyone who diminished this version of her, who chipped away at this person and made her think she had such little power that scraps were all she deserved. She deserved so much more than that. 

“Come here,” he whispered, barely audible over the music. But she heard him and immediately finished her dance move and sank to her knees to crawl to him. 

Once she was before his chair, she slid into the position he always made her wait in, on her knees and head bowed. 

“What do you want?” 

“W-what?” Michael never asked her what she wanted when they had sex. That was the whole point, it was not about what she wanted. 

“What do you want? How do you want me to fuck you? Tonight, I do what you say.”

“Anything I say?” she asked, a twinge of a playful tone in her voice that made him shake his head. 

“Don’t get too excited. I still own that ass. But you put on a good show for me, feelin’ generous. What do you want?” 

She stared at him for a moment before answering. “I want to taste you and then I want to fuck you. And then… I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t move tomorrow.”

He let out a barking laugh before standing to strip, his member standing at attention. Her mouth watered as she took in the pre cum already leaking from his head. She wanted to groan at how slowly he was moving. He leaned over her and wrapped his hand in her hair, pulling her head back. “Your wish is my command. If that’s what you want, ain’t no tappin’ out tonight.” 

“When have I ever tapped out?” she challenged. 

Michael grinned like a Cheshire cat. He loved that she had some fire in her. But she was not wrong. She never tapped out.

“We’ll see then.” He let her hair go and settled back into his seat. 

Raven immediately launched herself at his dick, not bothering to waste another second. She kept her eyes trained on his face as she spat on his dick, licking his head like it was her favorite treat. In some ways, it was. She continued her teasing, after all, it was still her show and she was still in control. She licked the underside of his shaft, along a vein that made him groan every time. She grinned as the deep, guttural sound escaped him. He did not even need to touch her, his mere voice and the sounds he made made a mess between her legs all on their own. 

“Don’t like… to be teased, baby girl,” he mumbled as his head fell back in pleasure, feeling particularly tortured by her warm mouth and her hand as she spread her spit along his shaft. 

She paused, her hand continuing to pump him. She decided that she was going to egg him on. She wanted him to take her to another realm when he fucked her tonight. She wanted all of him, all of his strength, all of his dominance, all of it until she could not take a single inch more. And she knew the best way to get that was to rile him up a bit. 

 “Shouldn’t have asked me what I wanted, daddy. Cause right now, I’m in a teasing mood.” 

He let out a low whistle. “Gonna tear that ass up in a minute.” 

She winked at him before enveloping his dick in her mouth. She moaned around him, enjoying how his hips bucked into her face at the vibrations, sending his dick farther into her throat. One of his hands rested on his stomach while the other tangled itself in her pressed hair. However, he did not stop her from controlling the pace as she sucked him. He just enjoyed the feeling of her head bobbing up and down on him, her hand massaging the base of his dick that she couldn’t fit into her mouth fully. She was responsive to his groans and moans, and had learned over the last month what he liked. 

And the one thing he liked was sloppy. She took breaks to spit on him and make a mess of her drool on his lap and the chair beneath him. They could add it to his tab, he decided as she deep throated him. Usually, when she did this, it was just him fucking her throat without a care. However, this time she was in control and she took her time, allowing him to feel every inch of him as she took him down her throat. 

“Fuckkkkkk… love your mouth, you filthy slut. That’s it. Take this dick.” 

Her jaw hurt, the dangly thing in the back of her throat ached every time she pushed her head back down on him. But all she heard was his praise and that spurred her on. Faster, sloppier. Whatever she could do to feel him explode in her… on her. On her… that stuck out as she felt his hips start to move faster in rhythm with her mouth. Michael had a thing for cumming on her ass when he fucked her from behind, which she loved. However, a particularly wicked idea came to her mind as she wondered where else she would like him to cum. She could not imagine he would say no… most men dreamed of that right? 

“I’m about to cum, don’t stop!” He called out. 

However, she did stop, letting him fall from her mouth but continued giving him a hand job. 

Her breathing was labored as she tried to catch her breath. “Cum on my face, daddy,” she begged, her voice filled with need and pleas that made Michael forget that he should be mad at her for stopping when he told her not to. 

She did not give him a chance to respond or check to ensure that was truly what she wanted before she took him into her mouth again. Knowing where she wanted him to release himself, Michael did not let her control the pace any longer. He wrapped her hair in his hands and fucked her mouth with abandon. Raven did not even care that she lost control, the sounds of his moans and grunts, the disgustingly lewd and sloppy noises of her mouth, her gagging were a perfect symphony to her ears. 

“I’m gonna cum!” he warned before using one hand to keep her hand in place while he aimed his dick right at her cheek and lips. 

Both of them were panting as he finished unloading on her face. She stayed there beneath him as he wiped his dick off on her other cheek. She licked her lips, enjoying the taste of his cum but she left the rest on as she rose to her feet and straddled him. Usually she did not move until he told her to move. However, she had made what she wanted clear and she was taking it. And then he could take her. 

She kissed him deeply, her hand massaging him until he was fully erect again. She wasted no time sliding down on his throbbing dick, both of them groaning as he filled her. 

“Wish you could see yourself… bouncing on my dick, covered in my cum. Such a good whore for me, baby. Did you like me cummin’ on that pretty face?” Michael asked as she rode him. He loved how disheveled she looked. Her face covered in his seed, her mascara running from her tears after he fucked her mouth. The picture of submission and that made him want to fuck the daylights out of her. However, he knew he had to practice patience. After all, he had given her control, he had to let her enjoy it… at least for a time. 

He buried his face in the valley between her boobs as she cried out. “Yes! Yes! I l-loved it!” He wished he had the nipple clamps to tug on while she rode him, an activity for later he decided as he sucked on her nipples. Everything he did to one, he did to the other as that was only right and fair as she switched between his favorite slow grind on his lap and bouncing on him. 

He could tell her legs were starting to grow tired as they slowed down a bit. However, he did not mind, that was perfect actually. It meant he could take over. 

“You had your turn. You read for daddy to take over again? Give you what you need?” he asked in her ear, his hand wrapped around her throat. She gasped as he squeezed lightly, the action sending her tumbling over the edge of her first orgasm. 

“Y-Yes, p-please.” 

“What do you want? Say it.” 

“Fuck me like a whore,” she whispered, desperate to feel all he had to offer. 

His hands grabbed her beneath her thighs and hoisted her up in the air. She let out a shocked cry at the sudden change and clung to him tighter. The whole time, their bodies never separated as he walked with her until she was backed against one of the French doors. He let her legs fall to the ground and turned her around roughly. 

“Spread your legs,” he demanded, his voice leaving no room for arguments, not that she had a single one. 

He pressed her cheek into the glass panel, her eyes trained on the glittering lights of the Eiffel in the distance as he wrapped his hand in her hair once again. He held the head of his dick at her entrance, sliding it against her clit and making her body convulse slightly. 

He slammed into her, causing Raven to scream out with pleasure. His thrusts pinned her entire body to the door as he fucked her like a man possessed. 

Her high pitched screams were incoherent words that Michael could not make out as he fucked her roughly against the door. She loved every moment of it. It was painful, her breasts and body pushed up against the door like that with every thrust but she loved it and never wanted it to end. 

“You still in a teasing mood??” he asked, Raven immediately shaking her head. She tried to answer verbally but the words would not form. He pulled her head back, her sweet perfume hitting his nose as he bit into her neck. He did not do it hard enough to leave a mark but he knew she felt it. “I asked you a fuckin’ question!” 

“No! N-no! I-I’m s-sorry,” she blubbered as she felt another orgasm building. She had asked for this and he was not going to disappoint. “F-Fuck… you f-feel so good. I-I love it!”  

He let go of her hair and slid out of her, Raven groaning at the sudden feeling of emptiness. He gripped her arm and pulled her into the bedroom.  

“Get your ass on the bed. Face down toward the window, ass up.” 

He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment while Raven assumed her favorite position. However, when he returned, she glanced at him and found a small black bullet in his hand. He turned it on, the powerful and loud vibration filling the bedroom. She knew exactly what he wanted her to do as he climbed onto the bed behind her and slid it into her hand. She immediately tried to shy away from him but he stopped her. 

“The fuck I say about tappin’ out? You’re gonna hold that to your clit and aren’t gonna take it off. Drop it, I spank you twenty times, turn it down, I spank you fifty times, turn it off… you won’t sit for a fuckin’ week. We’re gonna see how many times you can cum before I do.” 

With that, Raven braced her body up one one forearm before reaching beneath her to put the vibrator on her clit. She immediately shuddered as it sent spasms through her body. This was torture. 

“You tortured me. Now, I get to return the favor,” Michael offered as he roughly thrusted into her. 

She had never used a toy during sex in this way and torture was the right word, delicious, mindnumbing torture. With Michael’s dick curving into her g-spot with every thrust and the vibrator stationed on her clit, she came in record time, couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds. Keeping it on while she came was even harder. Every instinct wanted to end the pleasure so she could calm down but she couldn’t.

“I-I c-can’t,” she whimpered as she felt her orgasm start to build again. It was too fast, too much too soon.

“Yes, you can and you will. You wouldn’t want to disappoint daddy, would you?” A loud smack filled the air as he spanked her. “But I’ll help you.” 

He reached around and wrapped his hand in hers, forcing her to keep the vibrator there. Michael had to slow his movements down a bit to hold onto her hand but it was worth it to feel her pussy snapping around him with every orgasm. She came and she came and she came. She begged and screamed for reprieve and mercy and rest but he gave her none of it. He ignored all of it. By orgasm number 4, she was a quivering mess. Her arm had completely gone slack, her upper body pushed into the bed and he wondered if he was pushing her too far. But no safe word had crossed her lips, just a lot of curse words. 

“I’m close, baby… How many more you got in you? I think you got two more. Don’t fuckin’ run from me, baby girl. This shit’s what you wanted isn’t it?” He slammed into her with a particularly rough thrust. “Isn’t it??” 

“Y-Yes…” she choked out. But now she did not know what she wanted because her brain was utter mush. She wanted less, she wanted more, she wanted him to slow down, she wanted him to speed up. She wanted to stop and she wanted to give him those last two orgasms he believed she was capable of. It might kill her but so be it. 

“Yes what?” He spanked her again with all his might. 

“Yes sir!” 

She fell off the cliff again, a breathless scream escaping her as she came again. It was still pleasurable, a tinge of pain accompanying it that she had not expected but enjoyed. Her body was covered in a layer of tacky sweat, she was exhausted. And yet, she knew she had one more. She could feel all the signs that he was close and after all he had done for her this week, she desperately wanted to give him one more, to hear him praise her for doing so. 

She used her last bit of energy to fuck him back, using her arms as leverage to bounce back on his dick. She took the vibrator from him, pressing it into her clit. 

“That’s it, baby girl. Cum with me, baby. Take this dick and cum with me.” 

Just as he shot his load deep inside her, Raven felt everything in her explode with untold pleasure. She collapsed forward, the vibrator falling out of her hand as she rode the waves of the most intense orgasm of her life. She felt as if he had just restructured her very brain chemistry. Everything faded in and out as she laid there for only God knew how long, paralyzed and exhausted. Michael’s presence and movements felt like a ghost hovering around her. She did not move, stuck and frozen in that position until she felt Michael help her flip onto her back. 

She let out a whimper of pain and tried to close her legs as she felt a warm washcloth touch her too sensitive clit. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice returning to his usual gentle baritone. “Just tryin’ to clean you up a bit. We made a mess.” 

Once he was done, he reached over to the phone and called down for new sheets and a comforter before picking her up in his arms. He loved how her body immediately curled into his chest as he carried her into the bathroom and settled both of them into the tub. He held her up until he could get her hair in a high enough ponytail to ensure it did not get wet. He knew enough black women to know she would not appreciate that when she finally came to.

Raven moaned, the water was heavenly. They sat in silence, Michael massaging and rubbing her aching limbs while she just laid there with her eyes closed. 

“I hurt you?” he asked. It felt good in the moment, it was so easy to get lost in it with her. But now he worried he had pushed her too far past her limit. And more so, he felt worried that she had not felt safe enough to say so.

She shook her head, her words coming out as a raspy sigh, her voice half gone from screaming. “Not in any way I didn’t want you too. You gave me exactly what I asked for.” 

He kissed her shoulder. “You sure?” 

“Positive. It was… amazing. I promise.” 

“Never made you squirt before… I liked it. Maybe I’ll do it more often.” 

She chuckled. “That’s what happened at the end? If that’s how it feels, I’ll gladly do it again.” 

They stayed in the tub for a while, Michael lazily helping her work out the soreness and kinks she felt in her legs and back. She appreciated how gentle and attentive he was afterward. Something about the end of their playtime made her feel vulnerable and exposed, made her wonder what he truly thought of her after the things she willingly did. However, every time, he took the time to care for her and ensure she was ok, he checked in and asked questions about how she felt and let her rest in his arms before he left. She appreciated and needed that. 

When they finally got out, her legs felt like jello but she imagined it was better than it would have been. He helped her dry off before giving her a robe to put on. He settled on the edge of the bed, which had already been remade with fresh bed clothes as she walked out of the room and returned with her dress. She started to slide the bodice up her nude body. 

“Tonight was fun… perfect ending to a great week. Thank you.” She gestured toward the door. “I s-should head to my suite.” 

She turned to leave when his hand grabbed hers to stop her. 

“Stay.” The request was simple and though it was not phrased as a question, she knew it was one. 

She could not help the way her face twisted up in shock. She never stayed the night, they never actually slept beside each other. It was an unspoken rule between them. She bit her lip as she studied him. She could list a hundred reasons this was a terrible idea but none of them seemed reason enough to say no. So she settled for, “You sure that’s a good idea?” her voice was filled with her own hesitation and desperation to say yes. 

“Nah, I’m not,” he admitted, his hand cupping her cheek. “But I’m willing to take the risk if you are?” 

That was all she needed to hear. She unzipped the dress and let it fall back to the floor, this time too tired to care about discarding it on the ground. She followed him and let him help her into bed before falling asleep on his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her. 

***

“So what’d you think?” Michael asked as he helped her down the steps of the private plane. “First private jet experience? Worth it or nah?” 

“Totally worth it. No security lines? No screaming babies? No annoying adults? Insane amounts of leg room? True bliss.” And it was. Raven had slept most of the ride home, mainly due to still being sore and exhausted from the night before. She had asked Michael to introduce her to the mile high club but he told her she needed to rest. And he was not wrong, her pussy definitely needed a break. So she spent most of the flight curled up on his shoulder asleep while he worked and listened to music. 

By the time they landed at LAX, she had not even realized the whole flight had passed her by. The pair noticed a few paparazzi lurking on the other side of the gate as they walked to the car where Alex and Allen waited patiently for them.  

“Welcome home,” Alex offered as the two approached Michael’s car, Allen immediately greeting them both as well before grabbing their bags. “Have fun?” 

The couple nodded enthusiastically. 

“I’m so glad. That means you two are relaxed and can get back to it. Cause we got a problem.” She handed Michael her phone, his relaxed face immediately scrunching up in frustration. 

“What’s wrong?” Raven asked, confused as to what could have happened in the span of a flight. All was well when they took off this morning. 

“Well let’s just say… I am so glad I’m an only child,” Alex answered flatly as Michael handed Raven her phone so she could see ‘the problem,’ a giant TMZ headline staring back at her that featured a quote from her very own sister. 

Fuck.

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r

***

A/N: I hope Paris was as magical for you as it was for me lol And our not-so favorite sister is backkkk. Drop a comment and let me know all your thoughts or if you want to be tagged! Thanks for reading!

[shunin-gumis]

Designs of Happiness - Track B01

L4mps Main Story Translation

Title: ep[1] flowers for?

Characters: Toi, Ryui

Summary: Toi and Ryui are making a bouquet for some reason.

Thank you myun @/myuntachis, Niri @/Niri_riri and Dimi @/taatsums for helping me with proofing!

Location: Flower Laundry

Toi: Hmm…

Ryui: …Picked your flowers yet? If you can’t decide, I’ll choose them for you, so don’t hesitate to ask.

Toi: Thank you, Ani-sama. But I’m sure it’s best if I pick something by myself, right…? 

Ryui: …Right. I’m sure that’s what he’d prefer too.

Toi: Did you already decide what you’re going with?

Ryui: Yeah. We’ll practice making the bouquet when you’re ready.

Toi: Got it, I should hurry and make up my mind.

Ryui: Don’t worry, take your time. 

Toi: Okay… 

Toi: Ani-sama, don’t leave me behind, okay?

Ryui: Don’t be silly. Of course I’ll never leave you behind. 

Toi: …Okay. 

Ryui: …… 

Toi: …… 

Ryui: Toi.

Toi: Yes?

*Ryui hugs Toi*

Toi: Wah… What’s wrong, Ani-sama…?

Ryui: You looked like you wanted a hug… Am I wrong?

Toi: …Hehe.

Toi: No, you’re right. You always know exactly what I want. 

Ryui: Of course I do. We’re two halves of the same whole, after all. 

Toi: Ah…! 

Ryui: Mm? 

Toi: I think… I’ll pick this flower. It caught my eye just now. 

Ryui: It’s very you. I’m sure he’d be happy with it. 

Toi: Yes… It’d be great if it cheers him up, even just a little. 

Ryui: Aight. Let’s try our hand at making a bouquet for when the time comes.

Toi: Ani-sama, do you have scissors?

Ryui: How about I cut it for you? I’m worried you’ll hurt yourself.

Toi: I can do that much! …See!

*snipping sounds*

Ryui: Yep, a natural at handling scissors too.

Toi: Ehehe.

Toi: …… 

Ryui: …… 

Ryui: Hey, Toi… Remember the scissors we got back when we started elementary school? The yellow-green ones. 

Toi: I do! That takes me back… Even though we’d bought them separately, we ended up getting the exact same ones. 

Ryui: Right, right. 

Toi: The teacher put stickers with our names on them so we wouldn’t get confused over which one belonged to whom… 

Ryui: And then you ripped it off, saying we didn’t need it. 

Toi: You did too! At the same time, even.

Ryui: That I did… 

Toi: We’ve always been together, picking the same things, living through the same time… 

Toi: Whenever I got hurt, you’d also have an injury in the same place. When I thought about calling you, you’d call me right then instead. We’ve always matched. 

Ryui: And when we got in the bath, not even our old man could tell us apart. 

Toi: They always relied on the color of our clothes to figure out who’s who. So we’d prank them by swapping places often. 

Ryui: …Right. 

Toi: (We’ve always matched, ever since the moment we were born. Before I met Aa-chama, even the color of our hair was the same.) 

Toi: I’m so glad we’re twins. 

Ryui: Same. Can’t even imagine what being born alone must be like. 

Toi: …… 

Ryui: Here, you want me to hold this down so you can tie the ribbon, right? 

Toi: Yes, thank you. 

Toi: Hmm, I can’t get it right… It keeps coming apart… 

Ryui: Try tying it a little tighter? 

Toi: Okay, I’ll try that now… 

Ryui: …… 

Toi: …… 

Toi: (Ani-sama… If I could live a long life, unlike Dad, do you think we’d match even when we’re old grandpas?) 

Toi: (I wonder if that’s something you’d also wish for.) 

Toi: (I want to keep matching with you forever.) 

Ryui: Hm? Did you say something? 

Toi: Nope! It’s nothing. 

Ryui: Now I’m curious. Tell me. 

Toi: It’s okay, I’m not thinking about it anymore. 

Ryui: …… 

Ryui: (It’s been a couple weeks since we came back from Hakodate.) 

Ryui: (We were working on prep for the First Tour and whatnot when that guy just up and vanished… A lot of stuff has happened since then.)

Ryui: (Toi must’ve been feeling uneasy, wondering if I’ll leave him all alone back with the Shiramitsu family.)

Ryui: (There’s no way I’d let that happen. We’ll always be together, as long as he wishes for it.)

Toi: Oh, I think I’m getting better at tying the ribbon…!

Ryui: I’ll hold down the knot, so tie it one more time.

Toi: Mm… Like this… 

Ryui: …I think that’s the wrong kinda knot. 

Toi: Oh no, you’re right! Gotta redo it… wait, huh…? 

Toi: I keep getting it wrong… 

Ryui: It’s all the ribbon’s fault. Let me at it, I’ll wrangle it into submission. 

Ryui: …There, that’ll do it. 

Toi: As expected of Ani-sama… What a pretty butterfly knot! 

Ryui: I‘m pretty good, right? I think I do a better job than a certain florist. 

Toi: Ehehe, yay! 

Ryui: Guess I’ll tie this one off too. 

Toi: Using dry flowers in your bouquet really shows off your great taste, I think it looks wonderful.

Ryui: This one’s just for practice, but when I get better at it, I’ll give you one too. A much better one. 

Toi: Really? I’d love that! Should I keep it in my room, or use it to decorate the shop… 

Ryui: …Looks like you’re feeling a little better. I’m glad. 

Toi: Yep! Thank you as always, Ani-sama… Let’s make the best bouquet ever for the real deal.

Toi: So that we can express how truly sorry we are to him… 

<- Previous | Next ->

Masterlist

[moonpoolcat]

Looks to the Moon (Not safe version)

It's Moon with tits, I don't care who says it's weird, my drawing, my rules now hold this L.

Quick Backstory (Short version)

Lttm is a gen 1 iterator an current senior to the Twilight local group. After the death of SOS, Moon was left feeling compelled to pick up where she left off the best she could. In this timeline Moon would not collapse like in game but instead be saved by an iterator who's can that is the first of it's kind was mobile. Along with NSH and Hunter. She could forgive Pebbles desire to escape, but she could never forgive his act of purposely ignoring her please for mercy, therefore Pebbles was exiled from the local group till further notice for not only attempted murder but the infection of the rot towards himself but her apprentice Unparalleled Innocence was affected as well. Later on she was secretly relieved the both of them had been cured by SRS an was happy to find out her brother was being looked after by Chasing Winds. This event forever tarnish, destroying everything she had ever believed in her entire life.

With a new perspective LTTM began to suspect her local group members were working against her? At first she didn't want to believe such accusations were true until NSH had hacked into their private group chat revealing they were part of the anti sliverists orchestrated by an unknown admin. Someone had premeditated this... In retaliation Moon would gather up these traitors an behead them in front of thousands of iterators during gathering, setting an example for anyone else who dared to harm her again. But the admins were not safe either for it was also discovered they to had planned her downfall so they had met the same fate essentially turning this even into the blood moon genocide.

As if it couldn't get any worse. Her UI had been the one responsible for Pebbles rot. For that, she was beheaded as well then was forced to carry out the rest of Pebbles sentence as punishment. With the weight of being admin, her lover gone, her brother traumatized, and anti- sliverists at war with each other- Something within Moon snapped! She became forever cold, merciless, relentless, and vengeful showing no remorse for anyone. Not even her own local group is safe from this iterators eternal wrath. Those below an only loyal to Moon shall not have to fear the queens endless quest for vengeance. The only goal this Moon has is to be rid the planet of anti sliverists that threaten everything she an Sliver worked so hard to create vowing to hunt down her killer if it's the last thing she'll do. Even if it means hurting the ones she cares about. For the ones that tread on stained waters will be the first to drown.

Explanation behind the design:

Look I like pogo legs but I needed this au to make sense if I'm going to be able to explain everything else. There were exactly 3 redraws of her dress as I attempted to go for a regal look but it had failed so I went for an egyptian look instead to set myself apart from the other Moons. Someone said she looked like a genie so I just rolled with it. The antlers were my attempt at matriarchy as I felt that it fit her since she is the oldest of iterators. The tattoo on her face on the mini casual is just a mark that only appears when she's not walking around trying to look professional.

Relations

Five Pebbles: Cares very much for him. He is recovering from cycles of isolation. Is slightly traumatized from Moon beheading UI. Has forgiven SRS.

SRS: Moon has little to no trust in Suns, she denied him admin role because of their poor mental health after exiling their abusive mentor. To her he is merely used as a means of brute force during situations where she does not want to spill blood. But on the inside she cares deeply for them nonethless worried whenever they have an explosive episode or any form of metal psychosis.

NSH: They use to be lovers before she half collapsed. Annoying as he may be Sig is the only iterator who she had given admin privileges to. However does not accept him as her equal because of memory loss. His speed is useful in keeping tabs on all the territories so nothing goes unnoticed. His two face nature and super speed makes it perfect to infiltrate places an come out unscathed.

Chasing Winds: He was the apprentice to SOS. He left the group after she died. Moon doesn't get along with him because he does not enjoy her violent tendacies creating fear setting a bad influence on the younger group members.

UI: Moon wants nothing to do with her. A lost cause and a waste of time thinking she could ever raise an iterator to one day take her role as admin.

Enlightened overturned silk: Wants dead immediately. (Keep an eye on this guy he's important)

Other local groups

Oasis local group: Allies

Zodius local group: Allies

Jaded local group: Not on good terms. Moon would rather see them dead.

Stormfall local group: Neutral due to Chasing Winds being Admin Moon wants no conflict with them.

Sliverist group: The only group she trusts to protect Slivers can. She took it upon herself to train them personally into the most lethal local group in the area an heads to Moons calls as they trust her enough to obey orders only because she was with Sliver the longest.

Anti-Sliverists: Wanta dead at all cost. Anyone who spots one are to kill them on site with no hesitation. Failure to report an a siting or incident are to be reported to Moon immediately.

Extra

The colored pearls on her antlers are her way of keeping up with who's in her local group, they're personal keepsakes that she forbids anyone from touching.

Neuron flies will forever circle her when she is wearing clothing. Otherwise they vanish when taken off. She keeps them around in case something happens an it is a means of a last resort of staying alive. They can be used an shaped into a projectile and will take one minute to reproduce a new one.

Weapon of choice: Scythe; It carries the weight of 100 leviathans. Only SOS, SRS an NSH have been the only ones known to be able to lift it off the ground.

Moon ironically can camouflage when it's dark, the downside being the ability is most weak during the day.

Morph form: Should have been obvious it's a deer.

Moon has a sister named Illuminated diamond Twilight, they're cycles older than Pebbles. Funny that her local group was named after her. Not on good terms when mentioned though.

Her antlers can retract at will, although she has to take every pearl off which is time consuming but worth it since it's just used as presentation.

If angered for to long Moon will enter a wendigo like state an will not stop until whatever had angered is either dead or has fled the area. It is recommended to not annoy her at all.

Moons lore is out go read it.

[sizzleissues]

Continued Speak my Language just a slight bit if anyone’s interested.

Edit : Got an Ao3 link now <- Both one-shots up

Again, base idea by @nervousbelieverstarfish

Hold On (1407 words)

She was always quiet at first. They’d find their spot at the back of the school library; the classics section that no one was ever in unless they wanted privacy and set up there. After the first day when they had found the main area too bright and too echoey to bear, they’d (well he’d) dragged a couple chairs into the more shaded section and staked their permanent claim. They’d sit in the seats they always sat in, Marinette facing him and the bookshelf and Adrien facing the pathway down. It would take five minutes of gentle prodding to get her to speak more than a couple words. Then there was no silencing her. 

That trait of hers made it so often they'd end up sitting on a bench outside the school after being kicked out for disturbing the quiet. Depending on the day she'd be mortified into silence or dedicated to getting even louder. 

Adrien didn't mind one bit.

After two weeks of finding themselves stranded outside, Marinette surprised him.

“So, I was wondering if you wanted to come over to mine instead, to tutor me? We can be as loud as we want in my bedroom and it's not too far from your house.”

Adrien shut the French book he'd been showing her and placed it between them. Going to her house was definitely closer to being friend friends then school friends. (Which was already a step up from tutor and student but he'd allowed the change because it would be awkward otherwise.) The voice inside him told him to make something up about not being allowed but that didn’t really make any sense. He wanted to say yes and he was already allowed to stay late at school to tutor her, why not at her house?

“Sure,” Adrien said. He felt a lot lighter all of a sudden. Had his self-imposed isolation really weighed on him that badly? “That sounds perfect.”

“Great! We can walk there after school tomorrow.”

Marinette stood with a grin on her face, picking up her school bag and books. 

“Say that in French,” Adrien said. Her smile dropped from her mouth but her eyes still remained lit. She pursed her lips in thought and then produced after a few seconds of thinking;

“Good. We will walk there after school… tomorrow!”

“You’re getting better!”

“Because of my excellent mentor.”

-

“You live over a bakery!”

Marinette looked behind her shoulder at him to where he’d stopped in his tracks. She laughed and went back to unlocking the door.

“My parents own the bakery.” She pushed the door open and stepped for Adrien to walk into a small stairwell, his mouth hanging open. They’d walked right past the customer entrance to their private one but from a brief glance he could tell it was popular. How had she not mentioned this? If it were him that would be the first thing he’d say. 

“That’s so cool.”

She led him up the staircase into the apartment above the bakery and then quickly through it up to her attic bedroom. The smell of baked goods chased them up the entire way and he realised why Marinette always smelt so good, it was the scent of fresh bread and cinnamon. 

Her bedroom was far enough away to allow for its own aroma, something floral and sweet to match the pink decor. It made perfect sense that a room like this belonged to Marinette, it was everything she was and more. A little chaotic with clutter but with a purpose to its madness, soft with cushions and plush furniture that invited him to relax. There were magazine cut outs along the walls from different fashion lines as well as what appeared to be her own designs pinned beside them. She walked past it all, clearing off the love seat at the back of the room for them to sit on. 

“We can sit here. Ignore the mess,” Marinette said. 

Adrien sat down, placing his bag at his feet. He was in awe of how much personality she’d crammed into her one room when all he’d managed to have done to his room of fifteen years was stick up a Ladybug poster a week ago and call it a day.

“Your room is amazing.”

Her cheeks turned a light pink as she turned away. Perhaps he’d sounded a little too amazed.

“I tried to make it feel like my room in China but it feels like it's missing something.” She crossed to the other side of her room and pulled her desk chair back with her to sit on.

“Why’d you never mention that your parents owned a bakery before?”

“It didn’t really come up. Before my parents met my Papa ran a bakery here but he closed it to move to China with my Maman.”

He couldn’t imagine how that might have felt. He didn’t have much to close up and leave behind. Not anything that would care if he left anyway.

“Marinette?” Someone called, followed by the trapdoor swinging open. A large man with an impressive mustache stuck his head through it, a tray filled with treats carried in his hand. This must be her father. Her father’s eyes landed on Adrien, seated politely on his daughter’s love seat, widening slightly. Had she not told her parents? 

“Papa! Out!” Marinette dove across the room. She grabbed the tray from his hands as a teasing smile started to spread across her father’s lips.

“Is this your boyf—.” 

Marinette slammed the trapdoor shut, forcing her grinning father out. She lay on top of it and looked back to Adrien with an embarrassed expression.

“Sorry about him.”

“Boyfriend?” He said it without meaning, mulling over the logical conclusion to M Dupain’s words. Boyfriend was definitely a bigger step up than friends. He couldn’t tell how that word felt in his mouth but it wasn’t a terrible taste. He could see it suiting him one day.

Marinette turned pink, scrambling up to her feet before falling down again.

“I don’t think you’re my boyfriend! I was just talking about our lessons to my Mom and he misunderstood. Mandarin's his second language so sometimes we speak too fast for him and he made a completely incorrect assumption. I corrected him but you know how dads are, they’ll take any chance to tease you. Please don’t be freaked out.”

But he didn’t know how dads were. Gabriel was only his in name. Marinette kept talking but Adrien stayed with that thought for another while. 

He became aware of how quiet it had gotten when Marinette whispered his name.

“Adrien?”

“Eh-. Sorry. Y-your fine, I wasn’t bothered by it.”

Marinette frowned. He must have missed more than he’d thought. She sat across from him, kneeled down and looking up with her brow lightly pinched. Her hands flexed against the material of her jeans, a habit of her’s he’d grown to notice. 

“You look really zoned out. Was I speaking too fast again?”

“No, no. I could keep up. I’m just-.”

“What?”

Adrien bit down on his lip using the moment of pain to ground himself again. He wouldn’t shut her out too, she didn’t deserve it like Gabriel did. 

“I don’t know what ‘dads’ are like.”

“Oh? I thought-.”

“I have a dad.” He interrupted. “It’s my mom that’s gone but her death sort of took him with her. He’s different now.”

“Do you miss him?”

Adrien didn’t answer because he didn’t have one. No one had ever asked if he missed his dad. Only his mom and only with their eyes downcast and their voices lined with pity. Marinette didn’t hide like that, there wasn’t a trace of pity to be found in her voice. Only a question.

“Yeah. I do.”

Something hot rolled down his cheek. 

“Oh, Adrien.” 

She reached toward him, locking him into her arms. Her head slotted perfectly onto his shoulder, the scent of her hair filling his senses. Of course she used blueberry scented shampoo, the obviousness of it nearly made him laugh. Then he cried some more as he realised he hadn’t been close enough to someone to smell their shampoo in a while. He tightened his arms around her back.

Marinette pulled back for a moment and he saw a thought flit past her eyes. A slight shake in her watery smile that he nearly wanted to chase. But it wasn’t the right time and she wasn’t the right person. 

“You can have my dad if you want. While you wait for yours.”

“I think I will.”

-

I said i was busy but this had already been partially written weeks ago so forgive me! This is just another kinda fleshing things out thing. Again playing a bit more into the movie canon but show stuff does apply.

Little reference to their alter egos (well just Ladybug) so I’m going to explain it a bit and I want to write another one shot delving into how their dynamic works in this AU.

I imagine the miraculous act as universal translators. Marinette is hearing everyone in Mandarin and they’re hearing her in French but she doesn’t know that. Opposite for Adrien. So it gives a bit more a reason for Marinette to like being Ladybug because as Ladybug she’s accepted and understood by everyone.

Most of the movie stuff happens with Adrien using Chat Noir to be the person he suppresses and Marinette to be the person she is without difficulty. They both find freedom in it now while they face the pressures of being heroes.

Ladynoir is still Ladynoir-ing in ways I’ll hopefully get to write about.

Also as you see I’m trying to flesh out Adrien daddy issue angst. I imagine that he grieves his father in much the same way as he grieved his mother but Gabriel is someone who still haunts him. So while talking about his mother makes him slightly annoyed because it’s such a done topic to him now, his father is an ongoing issue.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

I Hate Myself By Florence Pugh

Summary: Loosely based on a song in Florence Pugh’s new movie A Good Person. You are struggling with grief and guilt of your fiancé. Life seems to be going down hill when a blonde Russian forced her way into your life. 

Warning: This story contains some heavy and possibly triggering themes. Heavy drinking, addiction of opioids, attempted suicide, guilt, grief, mention of death, overdose

Word Count: 2.9k 

It’s crazy how life could change in an instant. A month ago you were planning your wedding. You were trying on wedding dresses, tasting cakes, and designing wedding invitations. A month ago you were celebrating with friends and brainstorming destinations for your honeymoon, and you decided on Japan. A month ago you were happy. But a car accident caused by a truck driver falling asleep at the wheel took your happiness. You were driving. You woke up from a two-week comma and your fiance never woke up. Her family never blamed you like you expected them to. No, they did the opposite and kept being there for you. They brought you to doctor appointments and helped pay for medical bills when they were grieving the loss of their daughter. But the guilt and the grief became too much and you did what you used to do before meeting Courtney, you ran. You left South Carolina and moved to New York City. Her family tried to call you and you’d send them a text to confirm you were alive. You were, barely, surviving on cheap pizza, buzz, and prescription medication. 

It was lightly raining on your nightly walk around the neighborhood. You weren’t wearing a jacket, only a T-Shirt and sweatpants. The rain didn’t bother you. You loved it. On some days, Courtney would drag you off the couch into the backyard to dance in the rain. You missed her. You missed her so fucking much. You wondered if this pain was ever going to go away. Would the weight feel lighter to heavy? When would it hurt less to breathe? 

You felt someone grab your arm and drag you into a nearby alley. You were so startled you didn’t even scream as you were pushed up against the brick wall. You stared at the girl in front of you. She was blonde, with striking green eyes, and she was a little shorter than you. But you didn’t miss the gun in her hand. “Do you have a death wish?” You asked. Was she Russian? 

“Maybe,” you said. She lowered the gun. “Well, I mean we all die one die right,” you chuckled nervously. She put the gun on her hip and let you go. “I made this extremely awkward. Look if you are going to kill me, can you get it over with?” You had to admit it wasn’t how you thought you’d go out. Would you see Courtney? She pulled back her hood and her blonde hair was braided. 

“Do you live close?” She asked. 

“Uh, yeah,” you said. “Most girls take me to dinner first before I show them where I live,” you joked. She didn’t laugh. “Right, this way.” In hindsight, it wasn’t the best idea to show a mysterious blonde in your apartment that was just holding a gun but life worked in weird ways. The rain picked up and by the time you unlocked your apartment door, you were drenched. You toed your sneakers off and walked into the kitchen. “Make yourself at home,” you said, over your shoulder. You heard the door close and lock as you grabbed a bottle of vodka and poured your guest a drink. She was looking around your apartment. It had the bare minimum, no photos or decorations, all that was left in South Carolina.

“You live alone?” She asked. 

“Yup,” you said, taking the bottle to the couch and laying down, not caring about your wet clothes. You took a generous sip, liking the way it burned down your throat. Your guest walked softly, you barely heard her walking over to the drink and then to the couch. You stared up at her. “Want more?” Offering the bottle. 

“Stay off the streets for the next few nights,” she said. “It’s dangerous.” 

“Whatever you say,” you turned on the TV. She spared you one more glance at you before exiting your apartment. “Odd,” you mumbled, taking another sip from the bottle. You hoped that would be the last you saw of the Russian. 

*

However, life had other plans for you. Every time you left your apartment you saw the blonde. At the corner store. The pizza place. The shitty dive bar you worked at. But it was brief because when you looked away and back again she was gone. It wasn’t until Friday night, 5 days after your meeting with her did you see her again and this time when you looked at her she didn’t disappear. You had the night off. So, you were sitting on the couch, wearing only a sports bra and sweatpants. You were high, drinking beer and eating pizza with Criminal Minds on the TV. You were high. It was a glorious feeling because you felt floaty and free. You heard the handle of your apartment jiggly and when it opened you were staring at the blonde. “I should call the cops,” you told her. 

“You won’t,” she closed the door. “Not when you are high on oxycodone,”

“Vodka is on the top shelf,” you opened the beer bottle and faced the TV. 

“I know it is,” you heard her move around your kitchen. “Do you not have food?” She asked. 

“Pizza is food,” she huffed, mumbling something under her breath that you couldn’t make out. She sat down next to you with a Gatorade and a protein bar. 

“Drink this,” you looked at the blonde down to the drink then back at her. You didn’t like being told what to do, especially by a stranger. You took a sip of the beer instead.

“You’ve been stalking me,” she took a slice of pizza. 

“No,” she said. “Just watching.” You chuckled. 

“Yeah, that makes it sound better,” you sat back on the couch and focused on the episode. You felt her eyes on you, mapping out the scars from the accident. You would have them covered but sometimes clothes irritated your skin. Walking around in a bra was easier plus you never had anyone over. “Take a picture, it'll last longer,” you mumbled. 

“Thanks for the pizza,” she said, standing up.

“Yeah, no problem. Let me know when you're gonna stop by and I’ll have dinner ready for you,” the blonde opened and closed the door. “What a freak.” 

The next morning you found a bag of groceries at your door.    

*

Some days were better than others. You could make it throughout the day without your hands shaking and wondering when you were going to get high next. On days like that, the weight on your chest felt manageable. Those days were few and far between. Lately, the guilt was becoming heavier and the nightmares invaded your mind. It was harder and harder to stay sober and leave your bed. The bar fired you but you didn’t care. You had no energy. But like clockwork each week there were groceries at your door. It’s been a few months since you’ve seen the Russian. You tried not to think about her but it was impossible. It was annoying. Why did she care? 

*

You were drunk. Music blaring in your apartment and you were dancing around when the door opened. There she was. “My favorite Russian,” you ran over to her and put your arms around her. She caught you, stumbling slightly which caused the door to close. You rested your head on her shoulder, taking a deep breath in. “Mhmm. You smell good,” Whatever perfume she was wearing had an earthy scent to it like the smell after it rained. You leaned into her more. 

“Are you hanging out with more Russians?” She chuckled, stepping back from you slightly but she kept her hands on your hips. You giggled. 

“No, silly. You are the only one but still my favorite.” 

“Why don’t you go sit down and I’ll go get you water?” She went to move away from you but you stopped her. 

“I don’t want water. I want to dance with you,” you pulled her into the space between your living room and kitchen. 

“No dancing. You need to go sit down,” you scuffed, rolling your eyes. 

“You're no fun,” you mumbled, stumbling into the kitchen. “Aren’t Russians supposed to be big partiers?” You twisted off the cap of the bottle and took a large sip of vodka. 

“I think you’ve had enough of that,” she took the bottle from you. 

“I don’t like you telling me what to do,” you pulled the bottle back but she was stronger than you. “Whatever,” you let her have the bottle and open your cabinet. But she came around and closed it. “You are starting to piss me off.”

“What else have you taken?” She asked. Your jaw clenched. 

“Nothing,” you walked over to your fridge to pull out a beer. 

“So you haven’t taken hydro or morphine today?” She was pulling out the bill bottles. You took a hydro this morning. You woke up screaming from a nightmare. What were you supposed to do? “Courtney wouldn’t want this.” Your blood went cold. 

“What-what did you say?” She rolled her eyes. 

“Did you think I wouldn’t research who you are?” She asked, facing you. “You and your fiance Courtney Smith were in a car accident caused by a truck driver 4 months ago.”

“Shut up,” you said. 

“You woke up from a coma but she never did,” she continued. You wanted her to stop talking. “After the funeral, you packed everything up and ran to New York. You found employment at a local dive bar and spent your free time downing yourself in alcohol and prescription medication,” An anger was building inside of you, blinding you. How dare this stranger walk into your life and feel as if she had your whole life figured out? “Courtney wouldn’t want your life to be like this.”

“Stop saying her name as if you knew her because you didn’t,” you snapped. “You wouldn’t know what she would want,” you squeezed the beer bottle, afraid the glass would shatter in your hands. “I think you need to leave.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Get out of my fucking apartment before I call the cops and have them arrest you for stalking and harassment,” she didn’t move. “Leave me the fuck alone,” you threw the bottle at her. She barely dogged it and the bottle shattered on the cabinet. You took off towards your bedroom, slamming the door closed, and locking it. You slide down the door and brought your knees to your chest as the blonde banged on the door pleading with you to let her in. But you couldn’t face her when somewhere deep inside of you believed everything she said. You crawled over to your nightstand, the banging becoming a distant memory and pulled out a polaroid picture. It was of you and Courtney on your third date. She took you camping in the Adirondacks. You didn’t have any photos of her as you left all of them in South Carolina. 

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “It should have been me,” you kept repeating as you pulled out a pile bottle and uncapped it. You swallowed the few pills dry. You fell to your side and cried, holding the picture to your chest. 

*

You woke up in a bed and room you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t a hospital but you were attached to an IV drip. You were wearing a sweatshirt that wasn’t yours but it smelt like the blonde. You took the IV out of your arm and swung your legs over to the side. Your legs were shaky and it took you a minute to feel confident to stand up. On socked feet, you walked to the door and opened it. You were in a house and it was quiet as you walked down the hallway into a living room. You should have tried to find a way to get out but your eyes were glued to a piano. It was a beautiful, white Steinway model. You sat down on the bench and opened it. The keys were cold underneath your fingers but there wasn’t any dust on them. It was well taken care of. You couldn’t remember the last time you sat at a piano, it felt like a lifetime ago. You began to play, afraid you wouldn’t be able to but it was like riding a bike. It came back to you without much thought. 

“I woke up today, at least that much is true,” you sang. Your throat was raw and it hurt but you kept going. “I saw what people see, what a year this made of me? I tried a hundred times but each time I thought of you,” you closed your eyes. You saw yourself sitting at the piano playing while Courtney sat on the couch studying. “I hate myself. I hate myself. I fucking hate myself.” She supported you in your dreams of wanting to be a singer-songwriter. 

“And I want days of pain. Oh, to feel the things I need.To pay off this shame. And I know that makes me broken. I know that makes me weak. I guess I'll put my armor back on now,” you asked her instead of doing a first dance if you could write her a song and play it. To your surprise, she said yes but she made you promise you would dance with her at some point. You promised her. You would have done anything for her if she asked.

“I found a way but I turned around. One step to start but I’d rather fall. Too much of a coward to say, ‘I’m wrong.’ Too much of a coward to admit I need help me, please.” When you opened your eyes, the blonde was leaning against the wall. She was wearing a sweatshirt with SHIELD written on it. It was so different from the clothes she wore when she was at your apartment. You ended the song. 

“That was beautiful,” you felt the tip of your lips turn into a smile. 

“Thanks,” you ran your hands across the keys. “It’s been a while since I sat down and played.” She nodded, pushed off the wall, and sat next to you on the bench. “What happened?” You asked.

“You overdosed,” she played A-C#-E on the piano. You copied her. “You’ve been out for 7 days. 

“Why didn’t you take me to the hospital?” She played C-E-G and you did the same. 

“Hospitals ask too many questions,” she smiled. “I figured you wouldn’t have to deal with questions. Your safe here,” she added. “An old friend owns this house.” You nodded, and you played E-G#-B. She tried to copy it but her last note was off. You smiled, placed your hand on top of hers, and arranged her fingers to the correct keys. It reminded you of when you tried to teach Courtney when she had free time. 

“I tried to teach Courtney how to play,” you told her. “She wasn’t very musically inclined. Her head was filled with math and science. She was in medical school when she died,” she didn’t respond but you knew she was listening. “You were right. She wouldn’t be happy with me.” The blonde sighed. 

“I should have handled that differently. For that, I’m sorry.” You played F-A-C and she copied it perfectly. 

“Why do you care?” You asked. “I’ve tried to rack my brain around it. You don’t know me.”

“Do you know who I am?” She asked. You looked at it. She didn’t look familiar. You shook your head. “My name is Yelena. My sister was Natasha Romanoff.” You knew the name. Even in your small town, you knew who the Avengers were. 

“You're an Avenger,” she nodded. “What does that have to do with me?” She sighed, playing G-B-D but you didn’t play it back.

“The truck that caused the accident didn’t fall asleep. He was murdered,” your stomach dropped. You could hear your heart pound in your ears. You had a vague memory of overhearing Courtney’s brother, who was also a truck driver, said he thought it was odd that a truck driver with that much experience would fall asleep at the wheel. 

“Did you-?”

“No,” she said. “No, but I was responsible for trying to stop the group. I was too late,” it clicked. She blamed herself for what happened to Courtney and in turn what your life became. You wanted to ask more but you sensed she didn’t want to give the specifics. “I’m sorry.”

“You aren’t to blame for her death,” she didn’t look convinced. “Did you stop them from hurting other people?” She nodded. “Good, that’s all it matters.” Yelena seemed lost in thought so you continued to play to fill the silence. 

“Her parents miss you,” she said, causing you to stop mid-song. “They called and I told them you weren’t feeling well and that you’ll call when you are better.” 

“I don’t want them to see me like this,” your hand shook. “My parents weren’t supportive of my relationship with Courtney or my career choice. They looked after me even after the accident. I-” she placed her hand on top of yours.

“It’s okay,” she said. “In your song, you said you were scared to ask for help. I want to help.” 

“I don’t want you to help me because of guilt or pity,” you said. “What will you get out of it?” She smiled. 

“Well, you could provide pizza,” you laughed. A real laugh that sounded foreign. “And you could teach me piano.” You stared into her green eyes and saw something you hadn’t let yourself feel in a very long time. Hope. 

“Okay,” you whispered. “When do we start?” 

“Play something for me,” you did. You played for her and she sat and listened to you. You poured your heart and soul into these songs hoping a stranger would help you put your armor back on.    

[sevikasangel]

...ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴠᴇɴ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴꜱ !!!

↬𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍

i swear i'd burn the city down just to show you the lights.

first of all, thank you guys so much for our 1k followers mark. y'all have no idea how much this blog helped me go through some shit. for all my mutuals, i love all of you and thanks for brightening my days! as a form of gratitude, i decided to organise this event. :) <3

it's no secret that this author here is a sucker for villains...and most of her followers, too. so why not bring their hideout to the party? let's rock and roll! let's see our favorite women in aus and the most villanous prompts. the rules are simple: if you want to join the party, your darling must be evil! welcome...and join us on THE COVEN OF VILLAINS!

+...ᴀᴜꜱ !

— mafia boss au

— supervillain au

— serial killer au

— yandere au

— gangster au

— vampire au

— mad scientist au

— stalker au

— demon au

— evil queen au

+...ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛꜱ !

gun — she carries more anger than a thousand armies could ever bear. she was betrayed, deceived, hurt. believe me when i say she has already crossed hell. and the only time peace was seen in her eyes was when she saw you.

sword — be careful with that girl. there's fire burning behind her eyes. she makes kingdoms fall and monsters wish they'd never been born.

crown — kill me if you must, but i will not bow to a queen who wears a crown studded with the jewels of every life she has ended.

cross — be it in heaven or hell...near or far...if you call for me, i will be there, my dear.

snake — but if they tried to take you away from her, she'd rip the world apart with her bare hands. how come did that not terrify you?

signature — "you hurt her, and i will rip you apart with my bare hands."

monster — she's a demanding creature. she is selfish and cruel and extremely unreasonable. but you are her weak spot.

evil queen — one night a dark queen appeared and offered me her hand, her heart, and her kingdom.

paws — pick your chin up, my darling. or the villain will do it for you.

rebel — she might have everyone else bowing down before her, prostrating themselves before her mighty powers. but she won't be getting any from you. not now. not ever.

venom — "you can't kill me. even if you could, my darling, you couldn't bring yourself to do it. you'll hesitate...again."

chains — but even professional assassins have hearts and a weak spot.

last wish — she'd never seen someone smile like that at their own murderer.

creation — "it's funny you were designed to be a weapon. and yet i am the one fighting to protect you."

whisper — "watch yourself, little girl. you're swimming in the deep end now. and we're playing my game."

wonderland — when a monster stopped behaving like a monster, did it stop being a monster?

shadows — you can't outrun your demons, right? but you could invite it to dance.

crayon — a child who lost everything sits on the doorstep of a house that is no longer there. what a sad sight. pack your things, little dove, and hold my hand. this is not your home anymore.

tough love — i will strip away all that you know, all that you love, until you have no shelter but me.

kill kill — you fought and fought to keep all the cruelty locked up in your head, and for what? none of them ever loved you. because none of them never knew you. but i...oh, i always knew you, my love.

𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙙𝙚𝙡: "character in mafia au + kill kill prompt - fluff (some details)"

i will write any story formats for this event: headcanons, oneshots, drabbles...it can be fluff, angst, and smut...so please, make sure to be specific. ♡

before requesting, make sure you read my rules + character list.

[orionsangel86]

Oh alright.

My personal interpretation has been that Desire tries to live vicariously through Morpheus' lovers, hence her designing them or choosing then and ruining the relationships when Morpheus himself tries to choose them. What I can't seem to figure out though is whether the romantic interest is mutual? Personally i 100 percent believe Desire is into Dream but Dream remains a mystery to me.

That's an interesting interpretation. It is certainly a point I have found rather fascinating - why Desire is so bloody obsessed with Dream. Because a straight answer is never really given in the comic.

Why is Dream the only Endless who ever seems to take lovers (ignoring Destruction for a moment). Dream is the most sexual character among the whole Endless family - more so than Desire - who I like to headcanon is ace because I enjoy the irony and its not totally without merit as an interpretation given Desire's general disdain for being hit on, flirted with, made the object of lust or attraction - they always punish anyone who attempts to get close to them after all.

If we assume that Desire has some sort of psycho-sexual obsession with Dream, then that could go some way to explain their obsession with meddling in Dream's love life. They want all his attention on themself, but can't figure out how to go about getting it without tormenting him. It's funny, I have been talking with @just-cosmere-fan a lot about how Desire is so obsessed with ruining Dream's love life because their aspect makes it impossible to avoid Dream's constant feelings of lust and desire for his lovers, and its akin to forcing Desire to stand in the corner and watch as he fucks his way across the universe... but this is a fun twist on that idea. Desire has become so inundated with Dream's lusts and desires that it sort of twisted up and made them crave those feelings more, and so as you say they live vicariously through Dreams various love affairs, setting him up and then setting him up to fail because they enjoy his heartbreak just as much as they enjoy his lust.

I could get behind it in the "i-would-read-a-dark-fic-about-it" kinda way. Desire is a pretty fucked up character, and known for their cruelty, but Dream is also pretty fucked up, as by his very nature he is the embodiment of all the fucked up disturbing dreams that people have just as much as he is the embodiment of all the nice fantasy dreams that people have.

I don't think Dream would ever feel the same way though. Dream once considered Desire his favourite sibling, and he clearly showered them with attention before they set him up with Killala and then laughed at him when she cheated on him. Dream holds grudges, and that's a big one. I'm not sure how Dream would react if Desire hit on him, promised him everything he desired, that they could be anything he wanted, satisfy his lusts and cravings and love him in a way that no one else ever could, eternally, with just the right amount of obsession to satisfy Dream's own obsessiveness and ensure they would be together. I still think Dream would recoil in horror at the idea, but perhaps his own loneliness and neediness would get the better of him and he would consider it, if only for a moment. It's not like these characters are human after all, and they don't "mate". Would it really be incest the way we understand it? I think in a twisted Lannister siblings kinda way it could be a fun dynamic to explore. So go for it!

I'm not sure I can give much more of an answer than that. I'm a stickler for canon and love to pick it apart and see where certain ideas and headcanons could fit, but if you are asking me if Dream and Desire could ever work in a way that fit with the canon story, I really don't know. I think for that to happen you would have to break Dream and tear him down until he was at his absolute lowest, and then pick up the pieces and put him together in a way that Desire could manipulate and use as they saw fit. It would not be a happy or pleasant story if that were the case, but at the end of the day, this is fandom, and you can do what you want always. Smush your blorbos together like dolls and don't let anyone police your behaviours. If you want to explore a version of the story where Dream and Desire can both be together consensually and happily then go for it. You do not need mine or anyone elses approval to do so.

[izzysarchivedblogs]

"I got you a ring pop." He holds it to the other, it's already out of it's wrapper and everything. Peter was licking his own watermelon sour flavor (is it on his left hand? but his index finger.. what does this mean? nothing of course.)

"Cherry is your favorite right?" It's just an innocent ring pop. Nothing more, nothing less. (Or is it?)

It was at Peter Parker's apartment that he had decided to roost. Taking the stack of papers, tucked in those ugly yellow folders, and brought it HOME ⸻ this place that was no longer precisely a destination; the meaning of the very word changed.

TO FOCUS ON THAT FEELING ⸻ HOME WITH A DIFFERENT MEANING. Clint would find himself pondering, often in moments like this (sitting down, leant over a collection of papers). Today specifically he's at the small table that has been designated the dining table, which on several days was the catch all table.

Clint often disposed many objects at this table, anywhere from packages to arrow-making kits (all to be dealt with at a later). THIS PLACE HAD BECAME A HOME ⸻ But THE HOME was a different place entirely; lacking of, in fact, being a place at all. IT WAS A PERSON, IT WAS BECOMING PETER.

Another one of those things that he pondered was how had he GOTTEN SO LUCKY. It sure wasn't in his nature of luck to end up completely smitten (no, that part was par for the course) but it wasn't in his nature for that to last without any major SCREW UPS or something hindering them.

LIKE ⸻ you know, he wasn't going to get into the old aches. Clint needed to get this paperwork done, because YOU ARE THE TEAM LEADER ⸺ AND ⸺ NEED TO SET AN EXAMPLE. Being all official, government approved and city sanctioned, meant doing paperwork. The Avengers had that too; but the point standing that being all OFFICIAL meant heaps of paperwork.

Actually, he just needed to do this before Helen started holding hostage, or booking him for more interviews (who ever let him open his mouth made a mistake). ⸻ DISTRACTION !!

The front door opens, with Peter wandering in with a few re-usable tote bag in arm, returning from a grocery run. FINALLY ⸻ PETER'S WHINE ABOUT HAVING NOTHING IN THE FRIDGE FOR WEEKS (it's cause he has been mooching off the fridge at their brooklyn home which one of them needed to say something and move in to one apartment or another).

Clint only mumbles a greeting, leaning over to the side that Peter come up on, letting him kiss him before focus is put back onto the paperwork (with much more frustration now). He listens to his talkative love (OH GOSH HOW HE LOVES HIM) go on about three and a half tangents while he restocks his own kitchen. ❝ Oh, yup, that's great, baby. ❞ He'll input here-there, until Peter's back at his side again interrupting Clint's train of thought as he's trying to transcribe Eegro's writing (which why the hell did whatever Eegro was need to write reports as well).

He's doing that crouch that he liked to do, which why hadn't Peter jut pulled up a chair. HE'S SO GODDAMN RIDICULOUS. A red ⸺ A RED RING POP ⸺ is presented in front of him.

"I got you a ring pop."

YES, HE SEES THAT. There's other things that he has clocked because Hawkeye was not literal but to some degree, Clint's trained himself in visual perception. KNOWING HOW TO TAKEN IN A SIGHT, A SCENE, AT A GLANCE. Picking up on small things, points where an arrow might cause a chain reaction, and so on. Something anyone can do with practice. THE OTHER THINGS BEING ⸻ The crouched position at his side, could almost be a kneel if he squinted really tight ⸺ and ⸺ Peter's got his own RING POP on his left hand (index finger but that's probably because it fit better).

"Cherry is your favorite right?"

Clint sets his pen down, which was a poor choice to work with because he's got scribbles of pen ink drawn over his palms whenever the ballpoint would die on him and he couldn't just scribble on government documents. LOOK HE'S TAKING HIS JOB SERIOUSLY (as much as Peter gets to hear Clint bitch about a system he hates, and worrying that he has become a part of the system; mourning the days of old).

IT'S NOT A PROPOSAL ⸻ but there's that smile on Peter's face, all too innocent that makes Clint pause for a moment. THEY HAD JUST CELEBRATED AN ANNIVERSARY NOT ALL THAT LONG AGO. They had been working well enough together, Mayday was walking and talking.

He takes the ring pop, give it a lick. ARIFITICAL FLAVOUR ⸻ HIS FAVORITE.

❝ Oh gosh, is the big bad, be your boyfriend question? ⸺ You know I had thought we were already doing that, I mean what I am doing here? Was I not your boyfriend already? 'Causse if not, boy, do I feel embarrassed. I thought we had a great thing going here. ❞ He jokes, but that was something couples considered after a time and they really did need to have the talk about a permanent living situation. Peter's place was better, Mayday was going to want and need her own room. In the bedroom with Clint and Peter, or the couch was not ideal or permanently situation for a growing kid.

Gosh, who could he ask on the top floor that he move them to lower apartments (his apartment with the loft) and made a lot of barbecue for the neighbors, for some light construction to make a larger apartment on the top for room for. . . FAMILY.

❝ Sure thing, baby, I'll be your boyfriend. ❞ AND MORE, EVENTUALLY. Sooner than later. Keep asking him.

[mattspinksjoyblog]

Jesus; The End of All Religion | Katie Spinks

Firstly let’s define a few words, so we’re starting on the same page.

Jesus- A person of the Triune God, who was sent to earth to reveal God to man and by becoming human, has forever united God and man in one body thus redeeming everything in all creation.

Don’t worry we’ll get to unpack that for all eternity. I don’t know about anyone else, but that statement right there gets me excited! Basically, even if we’ve studied theology and all that you can imagine that’s available in our lifetime, we’re not even scratching the surface. No disrespect to well studied scholars, but were all babies when it comes to the Trinity. The point being is “Let’s look at this together and realize that there is so much awe and wonder of God, and God is showing us, They are more wonderful and good than we could have ever believed or imagine.

"End": to come or bring to a final point; finish.

It is finished.

"All": used to refer to the whole quantity or extent of a particular group or thing. All means all.

This is where it gets tricky. Religion is a big word encompassing all sorts of ideas and cultural experiences. I’d like to pick a part this idea of religion as being a means of doing things in life that people would classify as sacred or holy to get closer to God. The old root of this word is bind, to be under obligation and to hold to monastic vows. This kind of religion seems to be an outward self regulating of ideas put into practice to keep one at peace with society, because religion deals with moral or ritual behavior, and with themselves, because if they’ve done their duty and obligation they can pat themselves on the back and expect good things to follow.

So when I say Jesus is the end to all religions, I mean he single handedly made them obsolete. So how did he do that? By become a man and thus uniting God with man. He isn’t united to God for just himself. He represents to God all humanity in this union with God. Because he’s God and he know what he’s talking about, he says we’re ALL mystically united in this person Jesus.

Well, how is that the end of religion? It’s the end of religion because Jesus accomplished life perfectly and we’re in Him! His victory is ours, His righteousness is ours, His union with the Trinity is ours!

So what does this mean for our life? Well, Jesus not only united God with man but heaven with earth, that means the practical and the spiritual are in harmony and working together. For you and me that means we can live from the inside out. The Trinity is in us, guiding us and influencing us, because it’s coming from within it makes a big difference! The difference is that, it’s without obligation, its apart of us. Holy Spirit is in us and as we recognize their abiding presence we can follow and listen. We can follow and listen because they live inside of us. We begin to understand that we are connected at the deepest level regardless of anything we’ve done or will do. That is why Jesus is the end of all religion. Jesus got inside of us without our efforts. Religion’s goal so to speak, is to make us holy and get us to look like god. Well, holiness is a person, his name is Jesus and he’s already inside of you and He is God. It is finished!

What do we do? We can rest; you’re fully accepted and loved. Fully redeemed and saved. We rejoice and tell others of this beautiful news of what God has done through his son Jesus. We start to realize we can fully live as it in heaven, because God is the presence of heaven and heaven/God is inside of you.

You’re free to love God and do whatever. Of course we’re still babies and learning from our Father. But the most beautiful things of God's design are that we can learn this together and enjoy God together. We were made from a family, the Trinity, and where two or three are gathered in my name there I AM.

If you’re still living a life with God as shoulds and have tos, know the Good News that Jesus liberated us from that life of religion. Freedom means without obligation, it means you want to do it and it’s good and pure and the outward display looks like heaven, looks like Jesus. You’re not alone living your life for God. God is in you, living your life with you. They know everything about life, how to love and have healthy relationships. They’re showing you the paths of life, showing you what you love, because they know you better than you know yourself. They are enjoying your life together with you. This is what life is all about and this is what they made possible through Jesus!

Enjoy your life without religion. It’s no more duty, because it’s influenced by love and desire. Thank you Jesus for showing us the way, the truth and the life!

- Katie

[magdelanesingerin]

Session 14: Extinction Burst

Chapter 5 of A Life Alone, Rated M CW: drug use, Geralt's persistent use of ableist and judgemental language around himself

“How are you doing, after last week? That was a lot.”

“I…don’t know,’ Geralt admits. “Off. Keyed up, distracted. I’m not sleeping well, and it’s making me…I’m really easily frustrated.” Angry, really. Even angrier than normal. The world seems like too much, too frustrating, too stupid and loud and constantly trying his last fucking nerve. The shaky, pent up energy in his limbs feels like it’s about to burst out of him in something awful.  

“Hmm,” Nenneke nods sympathetically. “What kinds of things do you do for fun? How are you taking care of yourself?”

“Uhh,” he fumbles around for a moment. It probably shouldn’t be so hard to think of things that he enjoys doing. “I enjoy training, on my own at the gym and sparring. Riding, obviously.”

Sex, he doesn’t say. Not that he’s getting any, anyway. He honestly hasn’t wanted to seek out a new relationship or even a one night stand. 

“Using your body can certainly help to still your mind, take you out of your spinning thoughts. How about meditation, listening to music, watching movies, trashy TV, jigsaw puzzles, model airplanes– what do you do to relax?”

Geralt snorts, glancing away with a wry smirk. Well. 

Despite the cold Geralt stood barefoot on the tiny balcony of his apartment, determined to turn his brain off by whatever means necessary. In this case that meant stopping at one of the dispensaries that were suddenly everywhere and buying a pre-roll that he was sucking down with intense focus, methodically holding the smoke in his lungs as long as he could in between hits. It’d been many years since the last time he’d smoked, and the burn of it in his throat felt strange. 

He didn’t notice at first just how restless he was, shuffling his weight ceaselessly back and forth on the ancient, crumbling concrete that stuck to the bottoms of his frozen feet in sharp little chunks of gravel and grit, fiddling with the lid of the bougie plastic tube that joints apparently came in now. He was bemused by the perfectly rolled, tight cone complete with a filter when it had fallen out into his palm. Had marveled at the label bearing more provenance and fiddly detail than a fucking wine bottle, remembering instead the half crushed, lumpy blunts in thin ziplock bags that his college friends used to buy from some guy down the dorm hall. 

He felt old. Old and broken down, a nearly-forty year old man huddled in a ratty hoody standing on his balcony watching the curls of smoke and warm breath rise in front of his mouth and into the weird orange light of the streetlights, unable to deal with his own racing thoughts. Pathetic. He’d abandoned the plastic tube in his hoodie pocket at some point in favor of worrying his thumb over the greasy-sticky residue of the torn price sticker of his pilfered lighter. It was printed with palm trees on a sandy beach and he had no idea where it had come from. 

Did anyone ever buy a new lighter? Did they choose one of these trashy, lurid designs because it spoke to them in some way? Surely someone had to, but in Geralt’s experience lighters were always picked up from some bar table, or left behind on your porch by some nicotine-addicted friend. Someone had to start the cycle, though, to set them circulating in that never ending loop of abandonment and retrieval. 

He decided with relief that the fact he was wondering about this at all was a sign that the high was kicking in, and let himself relax into the floaty haze of it as he sucked down the last acrid lungful. He was still rubbing over the smooth, curved surface of the lighter, but it felt meditative now rather than twitchy. He rubbed his feet absently against his calves to get the concrete bits off and stepped back into the warmth of his apartment feeling hopeful he might actually find sleep tonight. 

He should have known better. He was still awake to feel the last edges of the high fade away, watching the clock tick over 2 A.M. with bleary, bloodshot eyes, and didn’t do more than drift restlessly before his alarm woke him for good with a harsh buzzing at 6:00. 

Continue on Ao3

[onmyyan]

Okay, Hia! I’m hate to ask y/n’s friends trying to seduce Caspian! Idk if you had done this already but I was Caspian meet our friends and it’s obvious that they wanna fuck him

A/N: apologies for the wait! Loved this request bec Cas gets feral when you're relationship is tested, let me know if y'all want a smut to this!!NOT EDITED

TW'S: Yandere, cursing, horny Cas, shitty people/ friends, suggestive towards the end, Cas gets mean but don't worry never to you

You nearly buzzed in place from your ever growing excitement, not only were you about to go out looking as fine as you were, but you were going with Caspian!

A few friends of yours texted you last minute asking if you wanted to join them at the club, they asked if you could be the designated driver as they all wanted to drink and despite the small voice in your head telling you not to, that they'd only asked you to join so you could drive, the people pleaser in you won out and just like that you were scrambling to pick an outfit.

This particular group of women were more work friends than real ones, and the urge to belong was stronger than the odd vibes they gave off, this is the main reason you tiptoed into the kitchen that afternoon.

"Hi honey- what's wrong?" His tone went from joyous to concerned in a matter of seconds, he all but abandoned the pot he'd been diligently stirring for the last hour in favor for cupping your cheeks. "I'm fine my love, just- you free tonight?" His shoulders relaxed at the question, his large frame tilting down so he could steal a kiss. "For you? Always."

"Welllllll I know you didn't have the greatest time with my friends the last time we hung out with people I know but they invited me to the club- they need a designated driver see, and I was wondering if maybe you might wanna go with me?" Your nerves were apparent from the way you played with your shirt sleeve and it almost made him chuckle, as if you ever had to worry about him saying no to you.

"I'd love to go, and if you want to drink I can drive, you shouldn't have to limit yourself so others can party." He may have been smiling in the moment but his temper began to flare at the idea of you being so clearly used by people who cared little if at all for your wellbeing.

He knew how much you loved to dance and he could tell how happy you were to be apart of something so he bit his tongue and prayed to the universe he didn't loose his shit in front of you.

The two of you got ready together, the process being halted many times so he could kiss your neck or lips, whichever he had better access to at the moment the urge struck him. He made sure his outfit complimented your own, before you left he attached the prettiest necklace to your neck, making sure to leave a trail of kisses as he pulled away. The pendant was an adorable set of intertwined rose gold hearts, your initials carved in the shining metal, he giddily pulled a matching dainty chain from beneath his shirt, showing off his own.

"So we match." It was a subtle way to keep his possessive urges in check. Plus the way you lit up when he put it on was reason enough on it's own.

Caspian made a habit of racing to get out before you so he could hold the door open as you exited his sleek black car. He gave his keys to the valet with a finesse that seemed practiced and immediately slipped a large hand around your waist, his grip tightened subconsciously searched for the harpy's. The group appeared in no time squealing in what he deemed was a fake display of excitement.

"You came!! You're such a lifesaver (y/n)! What would we do without you huh?" He didn't bother listening to her name so he didn't exactly who had their disgusting arms around you despite your obvious discomfort. You giggled gently taking them off your shoulders and started to respond before another cut you off, "You didn't tell us you were bringing such a fine plus one- hi I'm Sandy." She held a hand out for him to take which he simply waved at.

"Caspian, and I'm her boyfriend actually." He didn't even try to hide his displeasure at her choice of words. "My mistake." She said in a sultry manner, her hands placed on her chest in mock sympathy.

His fist tightened before he made a move to hold your hand. "Ready honey?" He kissed the back of your hand as the group went for the door, not even bothering to wait for the two of you. "As I'll ever be." You responded, trying to breathe through the sudden onslaught of anxiety. He made sure to press kiss the side of you head as you two entered the dark club.

He fell for your kindness but damn did you give it to the wrong people.

At first things were as good as could be, you and Caspian wrapped up with each other in a darkened booth, him whispering sweet nothings against your skin, he was having a perfectly wonderful time until about an hour in, two of the women he didn't bother introducing himself to had randomly appeared out of nowhere and pulled you from his arms out on the dance floor. He pouted to himself before he caught the genuine smile on your face, he'd endure anything to keep it there. After a while the three of you trotted off to where he assumed the bathroom was, much to his displeasure. Just as he was about to whip out his phone to see exactly where you were, he caught sight of someone coming towards him.

His irritation only grew as Sandy sauntered her way up to Caspian with confidence, two drinks in hand. "You look like a whiskey guy." She slid the cup over with skill and sat on the table before him. Her finger danced around the rim of her glass and he couldn't help but gape, was this bitch foreal right now? He could laugh at the audacity but instead he pushed the drink back towards her.

"I'm not." She huffed playfully at him, as if he'd told a joke and knocked back the glass with an exaggerated moan of appreciation, knowing damn well the cheap shot tasted like gasoline. His heart began to pound in anger as he searched the crowd for you.

"Okayy well do you dance big guy?" She leaned across the table to give him a full view of her chest, the delicate bat of her lashes always got her what she wanted, so you could imagine her surprise when he stood up to his full height, nearly knocking her over with the speed. "I sure do, with my girl." He didn't try to mask his distain for the woman who claimed to be your friend.

Her embarrassment wasn't enough to stop her in her quest though, "What she don't know won't hurt her- c'mon my girls have her attention for as long as we need." She wrapped her arms around his midsection from behind with surprising speed, it felt like broken glass and salt everywhere she touched. His face twisted into a snarl as he ripped her hands from his body, all but throwing himself away from her shocked form.

"You're disgusting- what kind of woman throws herself at a taken man? Her so called friend at that?" Sandy's face fell with every venomous word he spat, not at all prepared for the man before her.

"I'll tell you what kind of person does that. A miserable one. One that could disa-fuckin-ppear and the world would be better." With every word her body seemed to shrink in on itself. "You're lucky she didn't see that shit you just pulled- if she so much as thinks I'm skeevin' cuz a cheap thing like you I swear on everything I love it'll be the last mistake you make. Are we clear? " His tone left no room for arguing, that paired with the mean ass sneer had the teary eyed nuisance nodding her head wordlessly and before she could speed walk away he grabbed her forearm in a vice, "Matter of fact this is gonna be the last time you or any one of those wastes of spaces you call friends bothers my baby again- lose her number. Fast." He made a point to wipe his hand on his pants after he released her. Cas felt somewhat better at the sight of the woman's misery but his blood was still boiling.

His eyes searched for you desperately, his pulse only calming once he spotted your happy form bouncing over to him from the crowd. "This place is amazing Cas! The bathroom was so boujie I had to take like a million pictures- I didn't make you wait too long right?" He smiled down at you, leaning against the back of the booth, he pulled you into his chest with a content hum. "You're worth any wait honey, also I want those pics, I need a new wallpaper."

The sweet moment would be ruined when he caught sight of the hag you called friend glaring at your back. His gaze would sharpen before he returned his attention to who mattered most.

He'd burn you in place with his stare, the sudden intense look had your knees shaking, you knew that look, it was almost always followed by a few rounds on whatever available surface was closest. His adrenaline still pumping, he gently grabbed the nape of your neck and pulled you into a searing kiss, the kinda kiss that was always followed by trouble.

After a few seconds you pulled back just a bit, intending to question the sudden PDA but he didn't give you a chance, after fighting his way in, he sucked long and hard on your tongue, moaning into the kiss like a pornstar, the fingers not playing with your hair snaked their way down to grab a handful of ass, grinding his growing bulge into your core had the both of you letting out the softest moans. "Fuck- what's gotten into you Cas?" You giggled against his panting mouth, visibly flustered, he licked a stripe across your bottom lip causing your exposed skin to flare with goosebumps.

"Just showing everyone here they can look-" A hand gently lifted your chin, his stare holding you in place, "but only I get to touch." He leaned down to trail searing kisses into your neck, glaring at the still embarrassed woman watching the two of you.

Like a dog marking his territory he began to nip and suck at the spot just below your neck. Your giggles and little whines being the only thing holding him back from tearing into that woman who after all she'd done had the nerve to still be in the same room as you two, you suddenly pulled away to look him in the eye.

"C'mon you horndog, let's get outta here before you try to fuck me on the dance floor." You joked tugging him towards the door.

"Hear me out-"

"Absolutely not."

[jacesbeloved]

remember me, always

summary: on the night where the both of you are burdened with a choice, there is still nothing that could make you choose against honor.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x stark!reader

warnings/notes: fem!reader, angst, arranged marriages, running away, my heart is broken im sorry

jace taglist: @cosmicfairygirl @simrah1012 @lucerysvelaryonstan @lady-stark-winter-rose @moon1gt @aureliapappa @jcrsctrl @bobfloydluvsblackwomen

No matter how much effort you have exerted in getting to where you are standing now, you can't seem to say what you want.

None of you could.

You've paid off many of his servants, persuading them to do your bidding and allow you inside of the prince's chambers for the last check of everything. The last night that he would be free, available, and... with you.

Your eyes go over the expanse of the mirror, watching his jaw clench, his lips sealed into a thin line, his eyes looking down on his feet.

"Was it difficult?" His voice had been calm, restrained, but still calm. You refused to look at the reflection in the mirror, not wanting to look at the face of your once lover.

"What was?" You replied quietly, clicking the golden accessories and necklaces around him as you analyzed every design on them.

The waves, the dragons, the different sigils, you would have deemed it the prettiest clothing any man has ever worn, if only it was you being wed to him and it was your wedding.

But it wasn't, and no matter how much you seemed to despise the idea, wanting to break your own oath and be with your lover, you couldn't. You didn't have the guts to.

"Pretending like we aren't a thing—pretending like this doesn't affect-"

"Turn around, I have to look at the buttons." You cut him off with a stern voice, turning him around by his shoulders before he pulls your hands off of him.

The two of you locked eyes for the first time that night, breathing heavily as neither of you uttered a word. The wordless look of despair and longing lingers in both of your eyes as you both stare at the eyes of each other.

Jace heaves a sigh, sucking his teeth before he lets your wrists go. He snapped his head away in another direction as the both of you stayed quiet, unsure of what to do.

"Did you not love me?" You stifled a scoff at Jace's question.

"Love? Jacaerys, I would turn against my house for you, I would fight for you against any odds, I would support you no matter what, I would put everything down for you, I would trash this wedding for you," you paused, your eyes staring up at the prince. "If only I could." You whispered quietly, letting your head fall down once again as a tear dropped.

Jacaerys walks around, desperately grabbing at the clothing he had taken so long to put on, the clothing that he would wear for his grand day tomorrow. Something pops into his head, the one thought that he has been keeping for a very long time.

"You could, you can! Come with me, Y/N. We'll ride Vermax east- We'll fly to Essos. We'll spend our days there, living together, traveling together, sleeping together, making a family together, we can do everything we have ever wanted," Jacaerys spoke loudly, walking quickly to you with a big smile on his face.

"We can be whoever we want to be. No sigils, no houses, no damn royalty shamble that would tear us apart!"

You smile helplessly at the prince's optimism, your eyes watering once more as you saw how his smile dropped when he saw your eyes. Your hand was softly gliding over the smooth skin of his cheek, holding it as if it were the last time you'd be able to.

Because it is. After tomorrow, you two or nothing more than mere allies. You, the Lady of the North, and him, the Heir to the Iron Throne; both betrothed to your own partners that strengthen your respective houses.

"I... I love you, Jacaerys... so much more than you think." Your voice broke as you wiped the tear on his cheek.

"I- I know that, Y/N. So pick me, come with me, let us be... happy," his voice softens before holding your face just as you did his. He leaned forward to capture your lips in a soft kiss, the wetness of your cheeks clashing with his. It lasted a minute before you pulled away.

"I can't... you know that..." You whispered frantically.

"My.. my oath, I have sworn to the house of my betrothed already- my house. I cannot just turn back against those words, those oaths that I swore in front of my own house, Jace, I can't." Jace grabs a hold of your hands as you start to shake, pulling you close to him as he mutters "It's okay, I understand" again and again against your ear, kissing the hair on your head.  

Jacaerys feels his heart tear into pieces at the image of you being wed to a man from House Lannister. You felt the same way; images of Jacaerys growing up happy and old with his betrothed, Baela Taegaryen, and both of them your future rulers, made you worse than ever.

But there has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath.

And you are absolutely certain that you will not be the first one.

"But, remember this, Jacaerys, you cannot be replaced in my heart. For as long as I am alive, and until I live the life of another, 'til the end of time, you will be the one inside of my heart. That is an oath I swear to you."

You touched your foreheads together, closing each other's eyes as you felt each other's breaths. Eyes desperately flowing with tears as the two of you sob softly in each other's arms.

"I swear the same, my love." He whispers, peppering your face with light kisses, as much as he could, savoring each kiss as if it would be his last.

"You look good, I think this is enough." You breathed, patting his chest. "I must go. This would just make it harder for us both." You pull away, clearing your throat, the two of you looking into each other's glassy eyes before he nods, sniffing.

Each step he watched you take, furthering yourself from him, already reaching the door's handle. It made his chest tighten ever more.

"Y/N," you came to a halt. Standing still, your hands shook as you couldn't move your body.

"After everything, remember me, no matter how much you love him, no matter how many years pass," a cascade of tears fell from your eyes as Jace spoke the exact same words he told you when you two first got into an argument about some nonsense you had ensued.

You swallowed a big lump in your throat, slowly turning around to look at your lover.

"Always."

And at those exact words, on the day of Jacaerys' wedding, you weren't there. No, you were already on the back of your horse; rushing home with your guards, unable to watch or hear about the wedding.

With one swift change of the wind, you pulled your horse back, your guards looking at you like you were mad.

However, when you looked back, you heard the bells ring.

It was done already. You were too late.

You gazed up into the sky, praying for the gods to take you right now to stop the hurt. To stop with the pain, not only for you but also for everyone around you.

"After everything, no matter how much you love her, no matter the years that pass, remember me, my love," you said into the wind, letting the wind deliver it to whomever.

And it was received. Inside of the grand walls of the throne room, in front of the gods and his betrothed,

"Always."

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