#i wonder how long i have before the transformation is complete

[oneriderratbug101]

It's such a feeling to notice yourself slowly turn into Charlie from It's Always Sunny

[lususnatura]

🎤 🎤 🎤

a song that i associate with my muse meme!

AHH, hey, ramone!! thank you for sending in this prompt :D since you sent in three of the mic's, i shall now be treating you to three songs that make me think of blamore when i hear them / that i associate with it. an explanation of why i chose them will be in the tags <3

hozier - who we are.

icehouse - crazy.

depeche mode - personal jesus.

[misstycloud]

Shapeshifter x fem.reader

“Please stop.” You whimpered, shaking like a leaf.

The creature crouched down to your level and whispered in a soothing voice- it didn’t have the desired effect, though. “Why? Don’t be scared, I would never hurt you. There’s no need to be so frightened.”

“….just leave me alone..”

“No I can’t do that. I love you (Y/n). You’re everything to me. You don’t understand the depth of how much I need you.” He- it- pleaded.

You scoffed despite the inner turmoil. “Well, feelings not mutual.”

He sighed and shook his head slowly. “Why can’t you understand? I just love you so much.” He caressed your hands while staring straight into your eyes. It felt like he was unveiling your soul, like you couldn’t hide from that look, no matter what. “I,” he started, “can be whoever you want me to be. I can be whatever you wish.”

Suddenly, he started changing. It was like something was alive underneath his skin, that wanted to move and reshape the shell it was inside. Slowly, but surely, its features morphed into someone else.

This new shape was clearly tall, even when he was still couching. He looked a little rugged, wi the jet black hair and also at as equally dark grey eyes. He was muscular, too.

“Would this be better?” He asked in a deep voice, tilting his head in wonder. “Would you like someone like this- someone who can protect and care for you? Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to get into a bar fight to defend your honour.”

You looked away and shut your eyes.

“I see.” He said. “So this is not your type, then?”

Once more, you heard the familiar sound of flesh and bones. And against you better judgement, you glance his way again.

This time, he was not as muscular. In fact he was quite thin, but still tall. Messy brown hair shot in all directions, coverering his forehead, it almost shielded his face entirely from view.

“Or is this better?” He gave you a dorky smile. “A nerd? Someone who can relate to your interests and become just as engrossed in them as you. Wouldn’t that be nice? We could talk for hours about the things we like.”

You shook your head hastily. Rejecting his suggestion.

“Or maybe not.” He sighed.

The sound of flesh moving followed and you looked away, not wishing to see the peak of the gruesome transformation, before facing him again.

This new body was considerably shorter than the previous two. It was one of a mousy young man, appearing to be in the beginnings of adulthood.

“If you like being the one in control, I wouldn’t mind. I think this form would fit for that, you see. I’d be nice to be dominated by you. You wouldn’t have to hold back from anything, you could be completely in charge if that’s what you desire?”

You remained silent.

“I take that as a ‘no’, then.” He stopped for a few seconds, thinking, then the smile retuned. “Wait, I can’t believe I didn’t think this.”

Suddenly the young man disappeared and a woman took his place. She was gorgeous by all means. Her long blonde hair flowed in waves down her back. Her curvaceous form would have any person staring.

“I apologise. I should have asked if you would prefer a woman instead, my mistake. Now, finally, is this desireble?”

“I told you to stop. I don’t want any of this- I don’t want you. I don’t want to be near you. Leave me alone, please.” You cried in desperation. Hoping it would be able to push away the creature for good. But you knew it was a foolish dream for it to become bored with you.

The woman hushed you and took you into her arms. “Shhh, shhh, it will all be fine. No need to worry about anything. You’ll be good, I promise. I will take care of you.” She tried comforting you by patting your back like a mother consoling her crying child. “And don’t worry. It doesnt matter how long it’ll take, but I will find the right form eventually. You will just love it~.”

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[muletia]

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: optimus has a dream about you

cw: obsessed!optimus, angst, fluff (only at the beginning), implied robot-fucking/valveplug, mentioned pregnancy, optimus is depressed

word count: 810

The mission took longer than he expected. Retaking the energon mine from the Decepticons stretched on for what felt like an eternity, as the enemy kept calling in reinforcements. For every fallen Vehicon, two more would appear, alive and ready. The battle dragged on too long, completely draining the Autobots’ energy and morale. But they succeeded. For the first time in many months, they claimed victory, securing a steady supply of energon.

Optimus was the first to cross the ground bridge, praying to Primus that you were still in the base. Once inside, he transformed gracefully, though in haste, and headed toward the platform. The tension left him instantly when he saw you on the couch with a book in hand. He made a mental note to ask you about it later.

Despite his exhaustion, he managed a smile, mirroring your animated expression. Getting close enough to the platform, he leaned down and pressed the gentlest, most tender kiss on your head, pouring all his immense love for you into that single act. You giggled as his warm breath lightly tousled your hair, and Optimus listened to your laughter as if it were the most beautiful melody, composed just for him. Feeling playful, he blew gently once more so you’d grace him with your laughter again.

The other team members paid no mind to the sweet scene, fully accustomed to your little exchanges of affection.

"Hello, my dearest," he murmured, still close to you. He didn’t want to leave your side. Ever.

"Hello, love. Mission accomplished?"

"Yes, we managed to secure the mine. We have supplies for the next few months."

"That’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you."

Now it was your turn to shower him with affection. You planted kisses on his warm metal face, making sure not to miss a single spot, so Optimus knew just how much you loved him. Such a simple gesture was enough to make the leader of the Autobots weak in the knees, looking as though he’d ascended to heaven. But thankfully, he didn’t have to ascend anywhere — his heaven was right there, wherever you were. He had never been so happy, so blissfully content. After all those years of brutal war, spilled energon, and lost comrades, he had finally found his piece of heaven.

"Optimus?"

He blinked a few times. He was no longer in the base. Before him stretched a vast panorama of mountains, forests, valleys, and lakes, with no beginning or end. He’d passed similar landscapes many times on patrol, admiring the beauty of this planet. Each time, they left him speechless.

"Optimus?"

He looked down to where the voice was coming from, and a smile appeared automatically when he saw you. You looked concerned, likely because of his momentary distraction; to comfort him, you were gently stroking the metal on his shoulder… When had he managed to mass-displace? He had no idea, and it didn’t matter as long as you were so close, touching him, focusing all your attention on him.

He wanted to hold you and never let go so much.

"You were gone for a long time. I was worried."

Looking at you as if you were the eighth wonder of the world, Optimus gently stroked your cheek, handling you like fine porcelain. You smiled at his gesture, snuggling closer into his metal servo. He was always so tender with you, so gentle, a contrast to his true, raw strength. He took care to never harm you, to always make you feel safe.

Especially during the pregnancy.

His caring optics instinctively shifted to your slightly rounded belly, widening in surprise. He looked startled, and he was. Shocked that your biologies were compatible enough to create an offspring together.

But he had known about it for a few months now…

Slowly, he moved his trembling hand to your belly, caressing the curve. A smile appeared on his slightly parted lips. Could it be that his life had finally come together? No more war, no more being a Prime? Could he finally be free?

"This is a dream, isn’t it?" he whispered, looking into your eyes.

But you were no longer there.

Optimus woke up tense and anxious. Of course, it had only been a dream. His life couldn’t be so perfect, so flawless. He clutched his face as the scenes from the dream played over in his processor, now tormenting him in the real world. You haunted him even in his dreams, offering no respite even in his most private realm. But, unfortunately for him, there was only one antidote for this condition.

With a heavy spark, he got up from his berth and left his quarters. He automatically headed toward the main section of the base, clinging desperately to the faint, naive hope that he’d find you there and maybe, just maybe you would spare him a glance.

[gensideas]

LOVE IN THE SPOTLIGHT

summary Y/N Sánchez, daughter of Roselyn Sánchez, appeared on Jimmy Kimmel with her fiancé, Drew Starkey. While Y/N spoke confidently about her career, Drew couldn’t hide his admiration, often losing focus as he gazed at her. His lovestruck demeanor contrasted with Y/N’s composure, creating a sweet and memorable moment that left fans swooning over their undeniable chemistry.

features Fiancé!Drew Starkey x Fiancé!actress!reader

The bright lights of the studio shone down on me as I adjusted the hem of my flowing emerald-green dress. It hugged my figure perfectly, a piece from a designer who had insisted I wear it to highlight my poise and grace. But I wasn’t thinking about the dress or the cameras pointed at me. I was thinking about Drew Starkey, my fiancé, sitting just a few feet away. His piercing blue eyes followed my every movement, a soft smile playing at his lips.

Being the daughter of the legendary actress Roselyn Sánchez, I was a rising star in my own right. My breakout role in a critically acclaimed drama had catapulted me to the spotlight, and now I was the name on every producer’s lips. Despite my rapid ascent, I remained grounded, thanks in no small part to Drew, whose quiet confidence and unwavering support made him my anchor.

“We’re ready for you,” a producer’s voice called.

I gave Drew a quick glance. He gave me a reassuring nod, though his gaze lingered a bit too long. My beauty had always captivated him, but tonight, under the soft glow of studio lights, I felt otherworldly.

The interview set was elegant, with plush chairs and a backdrop of shimmering gold curtains. I took my seat beside Drew, the host across from us. The audience clapped enthusiastically, the excitement palpable.

“Good evening, everyone!” Jimmy began, flashing a practiced smile. “Tonight, we have two incredible guests: the stunning Y/N Sánchez and her fiancé, the talented Drew Starkey. Let’s give them a warm welcome!”

The applause swelled, and my cheeks flushed. I glanced at Drew, who was already looking at me, his expression soft and unguarded. He seemed utterly unaware of the cameras or the audience—his world had narrowed to just me.

“Y/N, your performance in Eclipsed Dreams has been called transformative. How does it feel to step out of your mother’s shadow and establish your own legacy?” Jimmy asked.

My smile widened. “It’s surreal. Growing up, I always admired my mother’s work, but she encouraged me to find my own path. It’s been a challenging journey, but I’m grateful for the opportunities and for the people who believe in me.”

Jimmy turned to Drew. “And Drew, you’ve been quite the supportive partner. What’s it like watching Y/N rise to stardom?”

Drew chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly, it’s mesmerizing. She’s incredibly talented, hardworking, and… well, look at her.” He gestured toward me, his voice tinged with awe. “She’s breathtaking.”

The audience swooned, and my face turned a deeper shade of pink. “You’re too much,” I murmured, though the sparkle in my eyes revealed my delight.

“Drew, you’ve built an impressive career yourself,” Jimmy continued. “What’s the key to balancing your own busy schedule with supporting Y/N?”

“Communication and respect,” Drew said. “We both have demanding careers, but we make time for each other. It helps that we genuinely enjoy spending time together—she’s my favorite person.”

“That’s so sweet,” Jimmy said, turning back to me. “Y/N, do you find inspiration in Drew’s work?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. Drew is so dedicated to his craft. Watching him immerse himself in his roles motivates me to give my all in my own performances. We’re constantly learning from each other.”

“It sounds like you have a wonderful partnership,” Jimmy said. “One last question: What’s next for both of you?”

I exchanged a glance with Drew before answering. “I’m working on a new project that’s still under wraps, but I’m really excited about it. It’s something completely different from anything I’ve done before.”

“And I’ve got a couple of films lined up,” Drew added. “But we’re also making sure to carve out some time for ourselves. Life is about balance, after all.”

The audience applauded as Jimmy wrapped up the interview. “Y/N and Drew, thank you so much for joining us tonight. We can’t wait to see what the future holds for you both.”

When the cameras stopped rolling, we lingered on the set, chatting with the host and producers. Drew’s hand never left mine, a quiet but constant reassurance.

“You were incredible,” Drew whispered as we walked toward our car. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“You’re biased,” I teased.

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling me close. “But it’s the truth.”

We paused under the soft glow of the parking lot lights, the city’s hum around us. Drew cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N. You’re a star, and not just on screen.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I leaned into his touch. “I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

Our lips met in a tender kiss, sealing a moment that felt timeless.

The interview aired the following evening, and social media exploded with praise. Fans gushed over my grace and Drew’s evident adoration. A clip of Drew’s comment about my beauty went viral, earning us the nickname “Hollywood’s Sweethearts.”

As we sat together in our cozy living room, scrolling through the flood of messages, Drew wrapped an arm around me. “Looks like people are just as mesmerized by you as I am.”

“By us,” I corrected, resting my head on his shoulder. “We’re a team, Drew.”

He kissed the top of my head. “The best team.”

And as the night stretched on, filled with laughter and love, I knew that no matter how bright my star shone, it would always shine brightest with Drew by my side.

© gensideas 2024

[dynamightimagines]

Can you write some headcannons of Izuku, Katsuki, Denki, Kiri, and Tamaki Amajiki dating a reader whose quirk is basically her being a magical girl.

Hey hey! Sorry this one took a min! This is so cute I have just been so mf busy with work and everything in like (why is finding new health insurance so mf hard) Hope you like it!! headcannons under the tag!! (I'm switching canon a little around for a few to fit reader into the story!)

Izuku, Katsuki, Denki, Kirishima, and Tamaki with a magical girl! S/O!

Izuku Midoriya

The first time Deku had seen your quirk he was absolutely stunned.

You guys were doing the villain and hero scenario's and you had been partnered with Uraraka to stop Iida and Bakugou from taking the bomb

It was normal at first, until the bright light went off

At first Izuku thought it was Bakugou setting off a particularly big explosion, the white of the blast blinding the cameras they were watching the fight from

But as it dimmed he realized it was focused around you, and as it went away he realized why your hero costume at first was so basic

It had completely transformed, you now adorned in a cute (favorite color) outfit, complete with bows and a small staff now in your hands

You seemed to move faster, even with the complicated outfit you were dodging your enemies left and right, sending out blasts from the staff you now carried

Izuku desperately wished he had his journal right now. How did your entire outfit change? And the increase in your stamina and dexterity?

You were keeping up very well with your opponents, dodging Bakugou's blasts left and right and moving faster than Iida could reach you

You were able to keep them long enough for the timer to run out, signaling your win against the hero team

As soon as you got back to the meeting room you were flocked by everyone, all of them aweing over your new costume and how your quirk worked

Another bright flash was sent out and you were back into your normal clothes, fatigue now visibly apparent on your face

Deku offered to take you to the infirmary to rest since his trial was already done

He tried really hard, but he couldn't stop himself from throwing question after question at you, wondering how your quirk worked, its drawbacks, and what all you could do

You were happy to answer all of his questions, bashful at the idea of someone so interested in your quirk

This blossomed your friendship, and little did you know how far your relationship would go

Katsuki Bakugou

Everyone teased him for your relationship

How did he, the angriest and most volatile student in UA, get together with one of the most upbeat and sociable students?

He made everyone who knew swear up and down they'd never let it out that he was the one that fell for you first

When he first saw your quirk, he thought it was the most obnoxious thing in the world, bright lights and frills and a wand?

But the power you had, the strength and how well you wielded the quirk's possibilities was admirable

Your sociable personality bounced off of his brash one well, making you two a popular couple

He knew you could handle yourself, sitting back during training knowing you'd always kick your opponents ass

Plus, he found it absolutely hilarious to see hardened, scary villains get demolished by you in your adorable costume, like a doll beating down Godzilla

He will also never admit it, but he finds your outfit adorable

He swears it changes a little bit every now and then, morphing to your growing personality

No matter what, its a perfect personification of you, and he will never get tired of it!

Denki Kaminari

The first time Denki saw you in action he swears he died and went to heaven

We know this guy watches anime, so the fact that, right before his eyes, a beautiful magical girl is here, just for him?

Technically just for him, as you two were sparring and you were coming right at him with your staff at the ready

He didn't care if he got teased for the quickest knockout in today's class, the fact that you carried him back to the infirmary and waited for him to wake up is all he needed to see before he decided he loved you

He hits you with so many flirty comments, calling you magical and asking you if you could sweep him off his feet

Luckily for him, it worked, and you two began dating

He will never stop bragging about you, showing off your quirk and cuteness to everyone he meets, daring them to fight you just so he can see you kick their asses, and see their faces as they realize the adorable and seemingly harmless girl they dared to fight could probably send them to hell and back

If anyone makes fun of your quirk he's quick to defend you, threatening to fight whoever dares to be mean to you, even though he knows you can defend yourself

He will never get over your magical girl outfit, begging you to activate your quirk just so he can take pictures of you in it

He will beg Momo to make a replica of it so you can wear it even while not activating your quirk

You are his beautiful magical princess and he will always treat you as such!

Eijiro Kirishima

You two are such a power duo

you both are power houses in a fight, and when you're partnered you are practically unstoppable

Imagine trying to block Kirishima while you're in the back shooting blast after blast of pure power

Any opponent would be overwhelmed quite easily

If anyone doubts you because of how your quirk looks he is the first to defend you, telling whoever is being mean to you that you are probably much stronger than most macho looking guys out there

If anyone's words ever get to you and you start doubting yourself he makes sure to shower you in reassurances, telling you that despite how girly someone may think your quirk looks you are a beast on the battlefield

He would ask you to help him train, to shoot blast after blast at him to help him increase the durability of his hardening

You two are easily the most popular couple at UA, your guys' kindness and strength make everyone feel safe and appreciated

Tamaki Amajiki

Tamaki first noticed you when you got second place in that year's sports festival, just behind Mirio

Mirio quickly became your friend, so of course you became good friends with Nejire and Tamaki too!

You and Nejire became best friends first, two of the cutest girls in your year made you quite popular

Tamaki was very intimidated by you at first, your flashiness and power was enough to make anyone shy

But you were so nice! How could he not respond to you and hang out with you when you asked so politely, and made sure to make plans in calm places so he wouldn't be overwhelmed?

Plus Mirio loved you, so that was good enough reason for him to open up to you

You're definitely the 'leader' in the relationship, taking lead of plans and any interactions you guys had while you were out

"He asked for no pickles" type of dynamic

You thought his power was absolutely amazing, and you never failed to tell him so, even though it made him a blushing mess

You got lots of love letters, many boys and girls alike showed affection for you and it made Amajiki very self conscious

You always reassured him, promising you would never leave him for someone else

He loves you with all his might and he will never stop showing it to you

Can you tell I lost all writing capabilities and motivation half way through this LOL I love this prompt I just suck at keeping focused. Love ya!

[mariasont]

Can I request Hotch finding gender neutral reader asleep but they legit fell asleep to a true crime serial killer podcast- or they’re like obsessed with a new serial killer show (me with Hannibal rn 😮‍💨) thanks!!! Have a good day!!! <3

Late Night Podcast - A.H

a/n: omg i love love love this idea <3 thank you for sharing your idea with me i hope i did it justice! and i hope YOU have the best day 🕊️✨

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x gn!reader

warnings: established relationship, hotch and reader being just so cute, bau!reader, reader and hotch are both simps

wc: 0.7k

Hotch's meeting dragged on, each minute stretched longer than the last tangled in bureaucratic red tape, and suits who really couldn't give a damn whether the BAU lived or died. It was all incredibly migraine-inducing, and he couldn't wait to go home and take you to bed.

He knew all too well that you'd be in his office, a realization that came with a twinge of regret. Not because your presence was unwelcome, but because your selfless nature meant you tended to put his needs before your own. You'd insist the after hours peace and quiet was perfect for catching up on paperwork.

He was very aware that was all a lie, you never needed to catch up on paperwork; he knew your work was always meticulously complete. He recognized your true motive; ensuring he got home at a decent time. And it usually worked everytime. The sight of you, patiently waiting, was the sweetest incentive to end his day.

"In this episode, we recount the tragic and violent story of Aileen Wuornos, a woman who turned from victim to perpetrator, ultimately becoming America's most infamous serial killer with seven murders to her name."

He stopped short in the doorframe, his eyes sweeping over the unexpected stillness of his office. There you were, draped across the couch in a tangle of limbs, one arm flung above your head while the other wrapped around your torso. The hem of your shirt had lifted just enough to reveal the softness of your belly. The rest and fall of your chest was the only movement, fast sleep.

You fell asleep to a seriel killer podcast.

He fought back a laugh, the sound caught in his throat as he laid the remainder of his work aside. You looked so peaceful, despite the macabre background that seemed to bounce off the walls. He paused your phone, knowing you'd hate to wake up and lose your place.

He smoothed your hair back, his rough hand lingering in the softness. The battle against his smile was lost; it warmed his entire face. He didn't want to wake you.

"Aaron?" Your voice was so sleepy, rough and cracked, but perfect all the same.

He wondered how long you had been asleep for.

"Hi, sleepy head."

Your eyes opened briefly, a couple of deliberate blinks as you nestled into a new position, curled on your side with hands tucked under your face. A smile, that you tried to hide, melted across your face as you quickly snapped those beautiful eyes of yours shut.

"Shh, can't hear you, sleeping," you mumbled under your breath, your nose wrinkling slightly as your struggled to keep a straight face.

A soft laugh broke through as he rubbed his face. "Well, this is the first time I've heard someone sleep-talk so clearly."

You said nothing, just the slight twitch in your lips as you pressed deeper into the couch.

"I'll take that as a yes to my carrying you out to the car then."

Before you could even muster a reaction, he scooped you up, your legs swept up in a fluid motion as you found yourself hoisted over his shoulder. Your breath hitched into a gasp, quickly transforming into laughter as you slapped your hands to his back.

"Aaron!" The word was muffled by the sound of his shirt as he started to march towards the door. "Put me down!"

"A lot of talk coming from someone who is supposedly sleeping."

His hand ground your ass, eliciting a burst of giggles from you as your hands roamed the expanse of his shoulders, legs dangling in front of him.

"Will you at least grab my phone? I need to finish that podcast on the way home."

A quick spin set your hair a flutter as he leaned down to grab your device from the table.

As he moved for the door, your hand found its way to his hair, mussing it fondly. "Thanks, handsome."

He finally let you down, hand entwining with yours. "Well finish the podcast together, but no more serial killer stories before bed."

regular taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash

[littlemissshoei]

SHAMELESS

isagi yoichi x reader.

CONTENT WARNING: roommates, confessions, fem!virgin reader, virgin!isagi, thigh fucking, shy isagi, creampie, idiots in love, they're both inexperienced.

CHARACTERS HAVE BEEN AGED UP, 18+ CONTENT

He was shameless.

But who could even blame him?

Every time the boy watched you leave your shared apartment in the most body fitting dresses, all dolled up for another man’s eyes to feast on, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering.

How you’d look underneath him, half lidded eyes, dilated pupils, as your voice whined his name oh so prettily. These were nothing but distant realities of course. You and him were not the same.

While he was the one with the wild fantasies, you were the ones that fulfilled yours. Going out as perfect as a wrapped up Christmas gift and coming home a mess. Every Time he saw your drunk figure wobbling down the hallway, trying to find its way onto the couch, he could feel the jealousy boiling deep within, wondering when it would be his turn to have you for the night.

If he was completely honest he didn’t want you JUST for the night, no. He wanted you all to himself like the egoist he is. But who in their right mind would admit something like that to their years-long childhood best friend?

The two of you go way back. Your mothers befriended each other in college and had been inseparable ever since. Your friendship was only natural.

The boy had grown to love you over the years, and watched you transform from a timid girl into a boy magnet. You were always surrounded by them, but you usually paid them no mind. You only started doing that when the two of you entered college.

Your friends had told you to loosen up, so you did! But Isagi had never expected you to go out THAT much. Deep down he always wished to gain some experience himself, to be able to swipe you off your feet, even if it was just for a night, but he was destined to fail.

Despite everyone around him assuming he had done it before, and he just preferred keeping sex to a relationship, he was actually a virgin. A pathetic one at that, because any time he needed to relieve his stress, all he had to think about was your face. The way your plush thighs would peek out of your short skirts, your radiating smile wishing him a good night. Just thinking about you, crying from pleasure underneath him, begging him for more and more, it was all he ever wished for.

And sometimes, just sometimes wishes do come true.

As Isagi lazed around the couch, endlessly scrolling through netflix in search of the perfect movie, he heard footsteps in the hallway. Soon enough half of your body showed up from around the doorframe, towel holding your hair as you waved nervously at the boy.

“Yoichi, hi! Sorry.. Did you happen to have seen the blow dryer?”

You asked, eyes scanning across the room.

“It’s in my room. Do you need it?” He replied, slowly standing up as he made his way towards you.

“I’d appreciate it, yes.”

“Oh. You’re going on another date?”

You nodded.

Usually you’d let your hair air dry, so whenever you were in need of your shared blow dryer, Isagi understood you were planning to go out.

“Yeah. I haven’t had one in a while.”

“Pent up?”

He asked casually, surprised when he noticed the rosy tint your cheeks took on.

“Mm.. yeaa..” You replied almost hesitantly, looking away.

He found your reactions adorable. Too bad you weren’t his. You graced him with your signature smile, taking the electronic out of his hand before you rushed towards your room to get ready. You only had 1,5 hour left, meaning you had to hurry your pace a little.

Looking around your perfectly organized little desk you put together another breathtaking look, brushing your hair before walking up towards your closet, index finger tapping your chin as your eyes didn’t meet the perfect dress yet. Pushing aside a few dresses, they finally landed on the perfect piece, one that would fit all your curves, and most importantly, one that would get you laid.

Putting on the black, silky dress with ease, you turned to admire yourself in the mirror. hands slowly gliding along your sides. surprised at how well this actually suits you.

The dress was rather daring. While you always went all out with getting ready, today you went a little overboard. As you adjusted the thin, black straps you took one last look at yourself, content with everything and stuffed your phone inside a little bag, ready to go out.

Just as you were about to leave through the door, the sound of a notification made you stop in your tracks, curious to see who it could be.

It was your date, there to share some devastating news.

His mother got sick and he had to rush her to the hospital. The boy apologized, promising her to take her out another time. Yes, he was a sweetheart, and you appreciated his message, but what were you gonna do now?

“Fucking HELL!”

You groaned, pacing back and forth as you thought about another plan.

“What’s wro—”

He stopped before finishing, eyes widened in surprise at your choice of dress. It was maddening. A tight, black dress, barely long enough to cover your thighs, with a split that stopped right under your waist. The straps were thin, with a pretty deep cleavage, exposing the soft flesh of your breasts that were perfectly pushed together, your neck adorned with a bit of jewellery to spice the whole thing up.

“Oh.. wow.”

He mumbled, not able to keep his eyes away from her.

“So much effort just to get cancelled on, fuck!”

You scoffed, turning off her phone. You should’ve considered your next choice of words more carefully, because a man will get what it wants, given the permission that is.

“All I wanted is to get fucked.”

And that was just the permission he was looking for. Before you knew it, you were pinned against the front door, A look you had never seen before sparking in your roommates eyes.

“You wanna get fucked hm? How about I help you out.. would be a shame to let your efforts go to waste now would it..”

He smirked, enjoying every second as he drank in your flustered expression and the way your eyes darted towards his free hand that was inching closer to her waist.

“Y..yoichi?” You managed to stutter out, not able to comprehend what was going on.

“You’re acting off.. what do you mean?!”

“Exactly what I said.”

He continued, arm now snaked around you.

“You want that, don’t you?”

Your little nod was all he needed, dragging you into his bedroom before pushing you onto the bed, feeling himself growing with the little whimper you let out as he manhandled you.

His hands were all over you, soon enough finding the zipper of your dress before eagerly, but oh so slowly starting to drag it down, watching as the dresses’ grip around you got looser and looser, until it was finally off, revealing a beautiful set of matching, black, lace lingerie.

It was as if he had finally gotten some sense knocked into him, blinking a few times before his hand ran through his hair.

“Holy shit.. I di—”

“Ichi…”

The sight was to die for. There you were, sprawled out onto his bed in the sexiest set he had ever seen, chest heaving with every breath, eyes clouded by lust. It was getting harder to hold back, but what was he supposed to do now? He had never gotten this far with anyone, was he about to ruin the moment?

“I’m sorry [name] .. I have to tell you something..”

He started, watching as you sat up and looked at him.

“I’ve.. never actually done this. I’m sorry, I got ahead of myself.. I guess I just wante—”

“Ichi..”

You repeated, your face slowly inching closer, breathing heavily as one of your hands found its way to his cheek.

“Let me share a little secret..”

You whispered, looking him straight into the eyes.

“I have never gotten this far either.”

Those few words caused his brain to malfunction and lose control of his body. Without even realizing it, he had pushed you onto the bed, keeping you pinned against it with his body while his mouth attacked yours, greedily claiming each and every part of it, slipping his tongue in the moment he could feel you gasp.

He knew this was a bad idea, and this could ruin everything you guys knew,

But Yoichi Isagi was a shameless man.

The two of you parted, the only evidence left of your connection being a string of saliva. You stared at each other, breathlessly, as you noticed Isagi’s overly flustered face.

“You okay?”

You asked, leaning a little forward. A smile tugged at your lips when you noticed the boy shiver at your touch.

“Sensitive? Cute.”

“Shut the fuck up I’m not sensi— Ah!”

He yelped as your finger traced his neck, rapidly breathing at your sudden touch.

“Such big words for someone that gets worked up about something like this hm?”

Yoichi rolled his eyes, softly pushing away your hand.

“I’m sorry for kissing you, I just.. you know.”

“You what?”

“This is fucking embarrassing.”

“Then you shouldn’t have started this.”

He took a deep breath before he started speaking again.

“I like you.”

You stared blankly at him. The little pout on his face was so cute, it took all your willpower to not squish his cheeks.

“Say something [name].”

“What do you want me to say??”

“How you feel, duh??”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

You asked as you inched closer again.

“I wouldn’t have let you do this if I didn’t. How about you let those gears in your brain do the work and connect all the dots.”

Connect all the dots?

The boy started thinking. About how shy you got around him. The way you’d ALWAYS show your outfit to him before you left, the backhanded flirts you’d throw around, claiming you’re out there for fun. Everything started making sense now.

“Looks like someone found the answer.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“Huh?”

“You wanted to fuck me. Go ahead.”

“But I have no experience..”

He admitted embarrassed, refusing to look at her.

“Neither do I. So let’s do our best together.”

The room was filled with breaths and moans as the two of you decided to continue your little activity. His hands were everywhere, all over your body, sending delicious shivers down your spine. Your hands in return glided down his chest, happily drinking up his little grunts and breaths in between your sloppy kisses.

The both of you were left almost naked, just some thin pieces of fabric separating you. You could feel the boy getting harder as he grinded against you, keeping your hips against his in need for some friciton.

“Mm.. Ichi..”

You said as you felt him stop.

“Can I try something?”

When he asked you to try something you hadn’t expected him to quite literally fuck your thighs. You were on all fours, feeling his cock rub against your clothed heat as he pumped in betwen your thighs, grunting and muttering inaudible words.

“Wanted.. to do this.. since the moment I laid eyes on them..” He said, gripping the plush flesh of your thighs as he continued buckling his hips against you.

With a few last thrusts he came, leaving himself a panting mess as you turned around. He helped you lay down as he started peppering light kisses all across your body, going down from your stomach to your thighs, where he decided was the perfect spot to leave marks.

Noticing you were squeezing your legs together he smiled, his fingers gently finding their way to rub against your clothed heat.

“Fuck.. You’re wet..”

“What did you expect, idiot.”

“Can I?”

You nodded, and the last bits of clothes you had on got discarded. Now he could finally see you in all your glory, and he realized the real thing was so much better than what he had imagined.

His hands found their way to your breasts, squeezing them, his face flushing at your flustered expression.

“Ichi.. please..?”

“Fuuucckk..”

With a trembling hand, his fingers slipped in between your wet folds, gliding between them until he experimentally slipped one finger inside. He felt your velvety walls clench around it, and he could swear you were going to cut off his blood circulation with how tight you were.

Slowly he started pumping it in and out, his thumb circling across your clit in an attempt to make you feel better.

“Mm.. feels good…”

“I’m gonna add another one, mkay?”

He added another finger as he dragged them in and out, curling them every now and then to get another reaction out of you. As his pace quickened he could feel your climax approaching, and with a few more moans escaping your wet lips, you came around his fingers.

He pulled them out, leaving you empty and gasp for air.Just as you thought the two of you were done, you realized he was hard again.

“Sorry.. That was just..”

“It’s okay.”

“Can we..?”

You nodded.

The male hovered over you, positioning himself in between your legs, his throbbing cock sliding up and down your folds. He wasn’t used to this feeling, but he sure as hell felt addicted already.

“Can I..?”

“Yes, Yoichi.”

His hand found yours, holding it in a comforting way as he slowly pushed the tip inside, watching your legs lock around his waist as you let out a muffled moan.

“Shh.. T’is okay, I’ll stop now. Let me know when I can continue.”

After you started adjusting you squeezed his hand, letting him know he could continue. He watched your face distort into looks of pain and pleasure as he slowly pushed himself inside you, until he was completely sheated in.

The two of you sat there for a momemnt, breathing heavily before he thrusted in and out slowly.

“Ah! Ichi…”

“Fuck.. fuck you feel so good.. sorry [name]”

He apologized before starting to buckle his hips against yours in a moderate pace, bodies flush against one another as his tip brushed the deepest parts of your insides. His head was hidden in the crook of your neck where grunts kept leaving his lips.

You felt so delicious around his cock. The way your walls clenched him. Your dripping cunt was so tight, he had a hard time moving in and out.

Soon enough his pace quickened and he watched you turn into a whining mess onto his cock, that slowly started bullying into your hole.

“ ‘ gona…”

He breathed out. His thrusts became sloppy as his hands grabbed your waist, mercilessly pushing you down onto him to reach the deepest part within you.

“Me too!”

You moaned out, fingers tangled in his hair as he continued pumping inside you.

Without any warning you reached your climax, followed by his own which he released deep inside you. With a few last thrusts to ride out his orgams he stopped, still sheated inside you, and collapsed on top of you.

Your arms shakily wrapped around him as you tried recovering and processing what had just happened.

“So.. I guess we’re a thing now..?”

“Seems like it.”

“Fuck. I love you.”

“I love you too, Yoichi.”

[c-cobweb]

𝓦hat if we kissed in the murder tunnel? ⋮ tate langdon

ᡣ𐭩 . warnings ᯓ kissing/making out, suggestive, ghost!reader. a/n ᯓ thanks to @xrag-dollx for the idea! ps: english is not my first language

───────── ⋆��🕸️⋅⋆ ────────

Halloween was a day that everyone in the house was looking forward to, the day when they could be free and walk around the city like normal people.

Tate and you had agreed that your annual appointment this year would be on a place that he had recently seen in his search for romantic places on your old computer.

Finally the day came and you prepared for the occasion, you wore a beautiful black dress and a subtle but effective makeup. You went down the stairs of the haunted house and Tate was waiting for you at the front door.

When he saw you he couldn't help but smile; you were so pretty that he couldn't help but let out a low whistle. "Look at you, you look wonderful" He said grabbing your hand once you were by his side and made you turn over yourself. "Thank you, Tate" You thanked with a smile and stood on tiptoe to leave a kiss on his cheek.

“Lets go?" Your boyfriend asked, intertwining your fingers and opening the door. You nodded and finally went out into the street. The cold hit your faces and you inhaled through your nose, the fresh air after a year in your lungs felt like something rejuvenating.

You were walking for a while until you got to the place that Tate had planned, you were a little confused when you saw a large abandoned place next to a road. "Where have you brought me, Tate?" You asked with a small confused laugh.

“Just look at this," he said and took you to a specific place in the place. It was a high wall that separated the road from that place and connected them through a large deserted tunnel. "What do you think?"

Around the tunnel there were a lot of graffiti, but the most important and that caught your attention was the phrase ‘What if we kissed in the Murder Tunnel?’.

“Is this serious?” You asked incredulously letting out a laugh, you couldn't believe that the romantic place Tate wanted to take you to was this.

“What? We live in the Murder House, don't tell me that the Murder Tunnel scares you," he said, letting go of your hand and entering that tunnel.

“Tate! Don't leave me here alone" You went after him until he sat in the middle of the tunnel and you did the same, smoothing your dress once you sat next to him.

Tate didn't take long to grab your face delicately between his hands and began to leave small kisses on your lips. You couldn't help but smile at that sweet act and finally caught his lips on yours.

The kiss at first was tender and slow, but quickly transformed into a deep and heated one. Tate's hands went from grabbing your face to grabbing your waist tightly and your arms went to hug his neck.

Tate licked your lower lip to make way for his tongue to enter your mouth, to which you obeyed without problem. Your tongues came together in a beautiful dance while your lips moved in tune.

Your boyfriend's big hands went down to your ass, squeezing and kneading it carefully, making you take several gasps out of your mouth.

Your lips went down from Tate's mouth to his jaw and then his neck, leaving several kisses and nibbles on his pulse point. He growled and grabbed you by the neck with his right hand, squeezing the sides carefully not to hurt you too much.

With the grip he had on your neck, he directed your lips back towards his. The kiss was deep and sensual, being guided by Tate and his expert tongue.

The kiss was getting more and more intense, your mouths moved faster and your hands ran through the other's body.

You hardly separated from each other's lips, breathing with difficulty and swollen lips.

“I think we should go back to the house before things get intense, we don't want to stay here ‘til morning, right?" Tate said in a whisper on your lips.

Your head was in another place, that kissing session had completely left you gone, so without knowing how to formulate a sentence you just nodded quickly.

Your boyfriend got up and grabbed your hand so that you would do it too, with trembling legs you got up and followed his pace with your hands still intertwined.

“Did you liked the place I found?" He asked once you left the abandoned place.

“It was interesting, but next Halloween I will be the one who chooses the place" You replied by raising your hands to leave a kiss on his.

───────── ⋆⋅🕸️⋅⋆ ────────

mlist , bots

 c-cobweb 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[erwinsvow]

you fiddle with the r necklace, rubbing it between your fingers like you always do deep in thought. you should have gotten rid of the necklace the day the two of you broke up, but a hopelessly sad and defiant part of you refused to take it off. it’d been long enough now that it was getting to the point of weird rather than just pathetic. at least, your friends thought so, and they never hesitated to let you know. after all, there was no one that hated your boyfriend more than them.

“you’re doing it again,” kiara comments, staring at your hand mid-motion, the pendant slipping from your grip as you drop it immediately. 

“doing what?” you question innocently, face burning. 

“i still think it’s creepy that he wanted you to wear a necklace with his initial. it’s like a brand. it’s dehumanizing.” 

“or, like, a dog collar,” jj says, holding back a laugh. you look up at them with a blank expression, because you really don’t have any retort. maybe it was rafe’s brand on you, maybe your friends are right. but you think, chest tight, that you didn’t mind being branded by him.

you change the topic because you’ll start crying if you think about it too long—of course they don’t mind, they encourage you to talk about anything but rafe these days. if only it was that easy to get your mind off of him.

rafe doesn’t make it easy on you either. what was supposed to be an amenable break-up had transformed and twisted into something completely different—something that your friends would kill you if they found out about. the first few weeks had been normal, like any other break-up, you sobbed on john b’s shoulder, accepted tissues from pope and listened to jj talk badly about rafe for as long as you could listen. you spent hours with kiara and sarah exploring all the reasons why it was so not meant to be, not when you and rafe were night and day, not when he was still dealing and doing coke. and then, just like other break-ups, the time came to put all of rafe’s shirts and the teddy bears he’d bought you and the photos on your wall into a box and get rid of it all.

you think you’re doing a good thing, by bringing rafe his shirts back instead of burning them like jj suggested. you knock on the door to tannyhill, making sure you spot his truck parked outside—even though one glance at the car where you’d lost your virginity to rafe makes your face burn up. you feel flushed and clammy when rafe opens the door, and he looks at you like nothing’s happened since he saw you last, and the rest of your resolve caves almost immediately. 

“hey, kid.”

“hi,” you chirp, pulling your eyes away from rafe’s before he convinces you to do something you’ll regret. “i brought your clothes back. i had more than i realized.” you offer him the box, but he doesn’t extend his arms.

“nah, you can keep them. you’ll be needin’ them anyways.”

“what?”

“how long d’you think we’re gonna stay broken up for? huh? another week? two?”

“rafe, i-”

“it’s okay, kid, just keep them.”

“no, i think you should take them-”

“why don’t you come upstairs and put them away f’me? hm?”

the first time it happens, you tell yourself it was a one-time mistake, that could happen to anyone. you’re wrapped up in rafe’s sheets, naked and sweaty, trying your hardest to catch your breath while you stare at the muscles of rafe’s back while he pulls up his laptop and finishes whatever he was working on. your phone keeps going off, probably your friends wondering why you’re so late to dinner. you pray to god kiara doesn’t check your location.

“you gonna get that?” rafe asks, turning back to look at you. you just look at him, delirious and still incredibly sad, wondering if this is the last time you’ll ever be in rafe’s bed again. 

“no, they’re just gonna ask me where i am.”

“still lettin’ them control how you really feel? gotta work on that, baby.” you feel any anger bubbling up at the fact that rafe still thinks you let your friends decide your feelings for you—a key point you had argued during the break-up—melt away at the sound of the nickname.

“they don’t like how much i like you.” you say it kind of sadly, like things could be different, like the two of you could have made it work in another world. you fiddle with your necklace, before unclasping it and letting it drop onto rafe’s palm. “i should go now.” 

it feels much too intense, like the third-act breakup in the cheesy books you read. you want rafe to fight for you, you want your friends to like him, but that means he has to change, and as much as it pains you to admit it, you don’t want any part of him to change. you want your friends to change their minds, but they won’t, and you want rafe to care that your friends don’t like him, but he doesn’t.

you try to move but he manhandles you into place, a hand on your wrist tugging you back into bed. he pushes your hair aside, clasping the necklace back on, and then rafe presses a kiss to the back of your neck.

“don’t ever take this off again, got it?”

you nod. rafe sends you to the chateau in one of his shirts and you pray to god no one notices that or your necklace is still in its usual place.

the next time it happens, you can’t even try to argue that it was an accident. you knew rafe wouldn’t make this easy for you, but you didn’t think he could make it so impossibly difficult. his texts light up your phone, only a few feet away from pope and john on the couch, watching the movie but only half paying attention.

R: where are you tonight

R: you coming here or do i need to come get you?

your heart settles into your stomach, being attacked by the wings of the butterflies that have made their home there. rafe talks to you like the two of you are still dating, and your mind slips into an easy, soft place where that is still your reality. 

“what kinda porn are you lookin’ at right now?” jj asks, and you break out of your fantasy.

“what?” you blubber out, before john b interrupts.

“jj, stop making everything about porn.”

“i’ve seen that look before, man, it’s the exact face pope makes when he found somethin’ fun and fresh. so what’s your type, i mean, you can share with the class-”

after slapping jj on the back of the head and reassuring everyone that there was no porn on your phone—only the promise of something better waiting for you, but they don’t need to know that—you head out, replying to rafe quickly.

coming now. 

this time, you can’t lie and act surprised that you’ve ended up here again. rafe turns on his tv to watch the evening news, and it’s so silly you almost want to laugh, but you stay silent, watching him watch the news and taking a sip of the water he got for you. 

you turn your head to place the cup on his nightstand, and see your lip balm perched next to his lamp.

“i’ve been looking for this,” you say, picking it up and turning to rafe. 

“yeah, you left it here.”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“‘cause i knew you’d be back.”

you think that’s enough to be your reality check. it’s not.

a week later, you accompany your friends to the bonfire. you play with your necklace while they fill up plastic cups with beer from the keg.

“you’re never gonna get over him if you keep wearing things he got you,” kiara says, taking a sip from her cup. you know she’s only trying to help you, that she’s only worried about you. you wish they would stop bringing him up.

“i’m not ready to take it off.”

“that’s not healthy. in fact, that’s so unhealthy that-”

“i said i’m not ready. can we drop it?”

“why not?” she asks, and you feel tears start to build along your eyes. “oh jeez, speak of the devil.” you feel a familiar hand on your shoulder, turning to face rafe.

“can i have a minute?” he says, looking at kie.

“no. you can’t have any,” comes her reply, until you look back. 

“kie, i’ll be right back.” 

you and rafe walk, ignoring the shout of your friend to not go, to an empty spot by the fire. 

“didn’t think you’d come here,” rafe says, quietly. you look at your shoes to avoid looking into his eyes.

“they dragged me along… trying to make me meet someone new.”

“yeah? is it working?” 

“i just told my best friend i’m not ready to take your necklace off, so, what’d you think-” rafe stops you, his hand coming up to lift your chin to make you meet his eyes finally. he presses his lip to yours—it feels different than the hundreds of times he’s kissed you before. your eyes flutter shut, a sole tear spilling down your cheek. 

you wonder if everyone’s looking. you decide you don’t really care.

“i told ya not to take that necklace off.”

“i listened, rafe,” you breathe softly.

“i know,” he says, kissing you again and then pulling away. “you’re a good girl. you always listen. i’m done with this crap, and i don’t care what your idiot friends say. not staying away from you. no one can make me, not even you.”

“i don’t want you to stay away.” rafe takes the pendant with his initial into his fingers, playing with it before letting it fall against your chest.

“good. now go tell them you’re coming home with me and let’s get outta here.”

[yan-lorkai]

This idea has been on my mind for a while and was wondering if I could request a Yandere! Lilia Vanrouge x Male! Vampire! Reader platonic headcanons

I’ll try and shorten this as best as I can, but long story short, M! Reader was turned into a vampire when he was 13 years old. He had a rare illness that shortened his lifespan. His parents were desperate to keep their baby alive. Fast forward to NRC present day, M! Reader is approximately 16,000 years old. Due to his young transformation, he’s stayed in the body of a 13-year-old boy. His classmates assume he’s a child prodigy. He casually mentions his real age during Halloween. Lilia lowkey brain freezes since he’s literally been babying M! Reader since he was first sorted into Diasomnia, and now he’s just finding out that he is in fact the baby in this situation because his 700 years of experience are nothing compared to 16,000 years.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ a/n: This was so funny, help-- imagine you dote and baby talk with someone and then you found out that this person is older than you. Tbh this happens with me all the time 🤡🤡 y'all I'm 20 but I have the same face since I was like 12. Anyway, I hope u like darling!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You must think this is funny. But you can see Lilia going through the 5 stages of grief in the short span of 10 seconds. First of all, he is in disbelief. Completely, utterly disbelief as he stares at you. As a general, he knows you're not lying and this leaves him with conflicted emotions he has to deal with before approaching you again (which happens quite quickly to be honest, Lilia is old enough to know that the age difference doesn't matter all that much. You're immortal, he is immortal. So what?)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He understands the struggle you may go through, looking this young but being this older, alone while you wander the world without ever stopping. As another immortal being who fought and saw death, Lilia can relate with your problems more than anyone, even if he is so much younger than you, he is still too paternal with you, it's the fae instinct.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Which isn't to say that you don't tease him for being small, cute and younger than you are. Yet, for the first time in a long time, you feel you can simply relax and stop being so on guard. Someone else can see you and it's offering you a shoulder to lean on, so you take that offer; even more because it's hard to be alive this long and being so lonely. You sometimes miss your family, though you can't remember at all their faces or voices, or even the time you spent with them. It was so long ago.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Both of you develop a codependent relationship where you fall into the role of a dutiful son and him into the doting father - it's so strange at first because you can't remember how a dad acts nor what they do with their sons and the time passing doesnt help at all. Though age doesn't matter. What matters is that both of you are healing and learning with one another slowly.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ If you're ever feeling hungry, he lets you drink from him or from a cup if you're uncomfortable. Though, he can help you hunt for blood if needed. He knows some students who were talking badly about you that nobody would miss.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Overall, he will adopt you and introduce you to his other children, hoping that all of you get along, even though your secret is very much safe with him if you don't want him to spoil it to them or to anyone else.

[regency-monster-love]

Monstertober day 26: full moon

Male werewolf x female human | Regency era | NSFW: oral, piv, rough, knotting, breeding, biting

The werewolf thought it best to send himself away from the estate for his first full moon since his marriage, but his new bride insisted he stay.

“I knew I was marrying a werewolf, and I've seen you, once, in that form.” Granted, it had not been during a full moon, but she had seen it. “Besides, you can’t just leave home once a month, year after year, for decades.”

She had a point there—she’d have to experience a full moon with him eventually. He hadn't thought this through enough before proposing to a human woman, but he had just been too desperately in love to worry about such details.

Now, he was worrying.

“You don't understand what you're asking for,” he told her. “I cannot stop myself from shifting that night, no matter what.”

“I know—”

“And I cannot stop myself from mating with you that night. As the wolf.”

“Oh.” She paused. “But you won't be an actual wolf. Surely the, ah, mating can't be that different.”

“It will be completely different,” he stated firmly.

“Oh,” she repeated in a faint voice.

They'd only been married about a fortnight, and so far she’d found the marital act…acceptable. Her husband was not demanding or rough, simply did his duty under the covers and her nightgown, in the dark, quietly, and then he kissed her and left. The act was sometimes mildly pleasurable to her, but she felt a strange sort of disappointment after it was over and she was alone in her bedroom again.

She wondered whether the difference he spoke of would make sex worse or better.

“I am not afraid,” she told him steadfastly.

“I am,” he replied.

~🐺~

In the end, he did not leave for the full moon, though he certainly could have defied his wife to do so. Perhaps he disliked saying no to her, or perhaps—though he would not admit this to himself—his desire to take her as the wolf outweighed his fear of how she would react to it.

The night of the full moon, he let his wife remain in the room with him to witness his transformation, and as soon as it was complete, before she could say a word, he leapt at her and snatched her up. His mind was already clouded over with the instincts and urges of the wolf, his prick already swelling and pushing free of his sheath. Already he could not recall why he'd wanted to separate them this night—she was his mate, made just for this, for him to breed.

She gasped as his long claws ripped her nightgown off her body, and instinctively tried to cover herself with her hands—they'd always had sex with nightshirts on—but he snarled and pinned her hands to the bed. “No! I want to see what's mine.”

She shivered at how much deeper and rougher his voice sounded now; when he had shown her his wolf form once before, his voice had been lower in pitch, but nothing like this. Yet she could still recognize this growling rumble as her husband's voice, and it reassured her that she was still safe with this wild creature.

The werewolf released her hands to grab her hips and hoist them into the air, close to his face. “Wh-what are you doing?” she exclaimed.

“I want to taste what's mine, too,” he rasped out, and thrust his muzzle against her cunt.

She cried out at the rough, fast lapping of his tongue against her most intimate place. Never before had he used his mouth on her there, and it was overwhelming both at how new it was and how glorious it felt. Pleasure swept through her like a hot summer storm at every swipe and plunge and flick of his long tongue.

The werewolf found it glorious as well. He had never tasted anything as intoxicating as his mate! He'd craved tasting her for so long, but that wasn't how a gentleman would make love to his wife, so he had refrained. But there would be no refraining from any of his desires tonight. He was not a gentleman, he was a wolf, and he intended to show her exactly what that meant.

He knew by her scent that it frightened her a bit, at first, but arousal was there too, and the sour undercurrent of fear soon faded entirely against the much stronger spicy-sweet scent. Never before had he smelled such potent arousal from her, and it made him preen inside, happy and proud to be bringing his mate such pleasure.

She moaned and writhed in his grip, overcome by an ecstasy that somehow was still building. Surely she could take no more, and yet she was; it continued to build, and build, and then all her muscles went taut as the pleasure erupted and utterly, blissfully consumed her entire being.

The werewolf shuddered at the feel of her cunt pulsing around his tongue. This too was new, and now that he’d felt it on his tongue, he needed to feel it on his cock—right now, and then every day hereafter.

He withdrew his tongue and flipped her over onto her belly—the position another first—then hoisted her hips up to meet his. His cock brushed against her dripping folds as he did so, and he rocked his hips to do it again, coating his length with her slick to ready himself. She looked back over her shoulder at him. “What—”

“This is how wolves breed their good little mates,” he growled, and drove into her. A shocked cry left her lips, and he grabbed her hair to keep her head turned back toward him. He leaned closer to her face, baring his teeth in a grin. “And good little mates take it.”

He was already driving his hips against her fast, unable to temper himself when the full moon was compelling him to surrender to his basest, most animalistic qualities. And he didn’t regret his surrender. Her cunt felt heavenly, and just like home, enveloping his cock in its tight, warm embrace. This was where he was meant to be, inside her, and she was meant to take him.

He leaned even farther forward, pressing his furry belly to her sweat-slicked back so he could lick her neck. “You are so sweet for me, little lamb, taking my cock so well, just like a good mate should,” he rumbled.

She whimpered, enjoying his praise but too bombarded with sensation to form any coherent response. It felt as though she was being split open with every one of his savage thrusts, and yet she adored the exhilaration of it and the satisfying fullness of her cunt on each forward slide.

“Good mates get bred with pups,” he panted as his knot knocked against her entrance again and again. “I’m going to give you my knot, my seed, breed you with my pups.”

He could smell her arousal flare at his words, and the biting scent made his frenzy for her all the greater. He rose onto his feet, still fucking her, but crouching further over her back so he could drill his cock down into her with even greater force. The edge of his knot began to breach her, and he snarled at how close he was now. Never before had he knotted her, but tonight he’d have her locked on his knot over and over again, bloated with his seed all night long.

The full moon demanded it.

She felt herself stretching farther and farther each time he pounded that bump at the base of his cock against her. It seemed impossibly big, and yet she knew, somehow, that her body could take it. And she wanted to take it. She wanted to be a good mate, like he had said. She wanted him to give her his seed and swell her with his babies. She wanted it all.

“Bite me!” she cried out. He’d told her before what it would do, connecting them indelibly as mates, a bond even stronger than the marriage vows they’d said before God. It was why he hadn’t done it yet, though he’d told her that she was his mate. He had wanted her to be sure. But oh! she was sure. She loved him, and she wanted them to be as connected as it was possible for two souls to be.

He didn’t hesitate. How could he, with the power of the full moon coursing through him and his mate’s pretty plea ringing in his ears and her delicious scent filling his snout? He just obeyed, opening his jaws and clamping down on her shoulder.

Her screams rang in his sharp ears as the taste of her blood burst on his tongue and the feel of their mating bond pierced into the marrow of his bones, and with one last wild thrust he’d shoved his entire knot into her cunt. It clamped down around him, clenching in waves just like it had done before on his tongue, and he knew he was locked within her. He snapped his hips even farther forward and his seed erupted from his cock, his knot throbbing with each glorious spurt he shot into his mate’s womb. He lifted his mouth from her shoulder and howled in triumph as his cock kept pouring his seed into her.

The heat and fullness of it felt incredible to her. He’d spent inside her before, of course, but never had it felt like this, with his knot locking everything inside, allowing her to revel in the sensation of wholeness it gave her.

He soothed over the bite on her shoulder with his tongue. She felt its sting, but even that pain was somehow pleasurable to her, and she sighed happily.

“Are you well, little lamb?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, my love.”

Carefully he tilted them over onto their sides, curling his big furry body around her small smooth one. His giant clawed hand stroked over her soft belly. He couldn’t wait for it to grow round with his pup.

“You were right: it was very different,” she murmured.

“An agreeable difference, or a bad one?”

“The best one.”

“I’m gratified to hear that.” He gently rocked his hips against her, nudging his knot around inside the channel where it was still locked tight, making her breath hitch. “Because as soon as this goes down, we’re doing it again.”

~ 😈🎩 ~

Read all of my Regency monster ficlets and snippets at the tag “my writing.”

[satansdarlin]

Marigold Margins: Chapter one

Wayne Enterprises CEO!Tim Drake x Fem!reader

Notes: a thank you to my lovely gf for beta reading this for me, this has been set up to at least to have ten chapters but I might combine some into one. Tim and the reader are both in their early twenties between 21-25ish. (Also indi and scarlet might be the yns of their own up coming stories :^ if yall would be interested). Drop a comment or a reblog! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, slightly toxic work environment, dick being shameless and trying to set you and Tim up, timmy being cute

Word count: 8.4K

Rating: T

Shit, your feet hurt like a bitch. Your heels clicked against the marble floor, each step sending sharp reminders of the blisters forming on your skin. The golden stilettos had seemed like the perfect accent to your outfit this morning - now they felt like an exercise in masochism. Fashion over comfort: the eternal struggle.

"Morning, Gary," you called out to the janitor, who was already familiar with your early arrivals.

He paused his work, offering a knowing smile. "Good morning, miss. Mr. Drake hasn't made it in yet."

"Thanks for the heads up." You appreciated Gary's small kindnesses - they were rare enough in this department, where your rapid promotion to executive secretary had earned you more enemies than friends.

The executive elevator hummed to life as you pressed the button for the top floor. While waiting, you shifted your weight, trying to ease the pressure on your aching feet. Tension. The word perfectly described your entire situation at Wayne Enterprises. Was the forty-dollar hourly rate worth it? Absolutely. What secretary made that kind of money, complete with generous paid leave? But loving the job? That was... complicated.

The work itself came naturally to you. The real challenge was Timothy Jackson Drake himself. Everyone knew about him - Gotham's wonder boy, the youngest CEO in the country, part of the infamous Wayne family. But after a year as his secretary, you'd learned there was more to him than the nepotism narrative suggested. He'd earned his position through genuine brilliance and dedication. That same drive, however, meant he had... expectations. While never openly cruel, he could be relentlessly demanding.

The elevator announced your arrival with a soft chime. Your morning routine unfolded with practiced efficiency: lights on, computers booting up, files arranged on your desk. The coffee maker gurgled to life, filling the office with its rich aroma. You prepared Mr. Drake's desk with military precision - work files stacked just so, his favorite mug ready, a banana and granola bar positioned nearby (which he'd likely ignore until you forced lunch upon him).

Settling at your desk, you dove into the morning's emails and calls. The sound of dragging footsteps announced Tim's arrival, and you glanced up to find him looking like he'd just crawled out of bed - or perhaps never made it there at all. He mumbled something vaguely resembling gratitude before shuffling into his office, his silhouette visible through the frosted glass partition that separated your workspace from his. You watched as he slumped into his chair, took a long drink of coffee, and gradually transformed from zombie to CEO. It was a fascinating metamorphosis you'd witnessed countless times. The way his shoulders would straighten, how his eyes would sharpen from bleary to laser-focused. Even his typing changed - from hunt-and-peck to a rapid-fire staccato that filled the office.

"Meeting minutes from yesterday?" His voice carried through the intercom, significantly more human than his earlier greeting.

"Already uploaded to the shared drive and hard copies are in the blue folder on your desk," you replied, allowing yourself a small smile. After a year, you'd learned to anticipate his needs with almost supernatural accuracy.

"The Robertson contract?"

"Legal returned it this morning. I've highlighted the changes they suggested in yellow. Green tabs mark where you need to sign."

There was a pause, then: "What would I do without you?"

"Drown in paperwork and caffeine withdrawal," you answered before you could stop yourself. These little moments of casual banter were dangerous - they made it too easy to forget he was Timothy Drake-Wayne, your boss, and not just Tim, the overworked genius who occasionally made you laugh.

The intercom crackled with what might have been a chuckle. "Fair enough."

The morning proceeded with its usual rhythm until your phone buzzed with a text from Bruce Wayne's secretary. Your stomach dropped as you read the message: the Wayne patriarch was making one of his surprise visits. These always put Tim on edge, though he'd never admit it.

You pressed the intercom. "Mr. Wayne will be here in fifteen minutes."

The typing sounds from Tim's office stopped abruptly. Through the frosted glass, you could see him run a hand through his hair - a nervous tell you'd picked up on months ago.

"Right," he said, voice tight. "Can you-"

"I'll get fresh coffee, clear your schedule for the next hour, and make sure the quarterly reports are ready," you interrupted, already standing. "And yes, I'll grab you a proper breakfast from the café downstairs. You'll need more than a forgotten granola bar for this."

Another pause. "Have I mentioned you're terrifying sometimes?"

"Only when necessary, sir." You slipped on your torturous heels again, ignoring the protest from your feet. Bruce Wayne's visits always meant a performance - from everyone.

As you rushed to prepare for the impromptu meeting, you couldn't help but wonder what drama today would bring. Bruce Wayne's "casual visits" were never actually casual, and being caught in the crossfire between two of Gotham's most powerful men was not how you'd planned to spend your morning.

But then again, when did anything at Wayne Enterprises go according to plan?

You stood up when the elevator binged, quickly tapping the intercom to alert Tim with a short chirp. Your hands clasped professionally in front of you as your eyes landed on Mr. Wayne, himself. The man commanded attention without even trying, filling the space with his presence in a way that made your spacious reception area feel suddenly cramped.

"Good morning, Mr. Wayne. Mr. Drake is in his office." Your greeting was the perfect blend of professional courtesy and careful distance. Your gaze slid over to Samantha, Mr. Wayne's assistant, and you felt your smile tighten imperceptibly. She returned it with one of her trademark saccharine smiles, so sweet it could rot teeth. The fakeness radiated off her like cheap perfume.

Last thing you needed was another gentle lecture from Tim about "trying" to be nice to her. You still remembered his exact words from last time: "I know she's... difficult, but we need to maintain good relations with Bruce's office." Easy for him to say – he didn't have to deal with her passive-aggressive emails and tendency to "accidentally" schedule conflicts with Bruce's calendar.

Bruce Wayne nodded in acknowledgment, his steel-blue eyes taking in every detail of the office with that unnerving intensity he was famous for. "Thank you. The quarterly reports?"

You smoothly retrieved the leather portfolio from your desk. "All prepared, sir. I've included the updated projections you requested, along with the comparative analysis from last quarter." You handed it to him with practiced grace, careful to maintain eye contact for exactly the right amount of time – long enough to show confidence, short enough to show deference.

"Excellent." He accepted the portfolio, and you caught the slight raise of his eyebrows – approval? surprise? With Bruce Wayne, it was impossible to tell.

Samantha's voice cut through the moment like a dulled knife. "I hope those numbers match what we have downstairs. It would be... awkward if there were any discrepancies." Her tone suggested she'd enjoy nothing more.

You felt your smile freeze in place. "Everything has been triple-checked against the master database, of course." And quadruple-checked, because you'd learned early on that giving Samantha any ammunition was like handing matches to a pyromaniac.

The sound of Tim's office door opening saved you from further interaction. He emerged looking every inch the CEO – tie straight, jacket buttoned, not a hair out of place. The transformation from his earlier zombie state was complete.

"Bruce," he greeted, managing to make the single syllable sound both warm and professional. "I wasn't expecting you today."

"Best meetings are the unexpected ones," Bruce replied with that particular smile that always made you wonder if he actually believed that or just enjoyed keeping everyone on their toes.

You caught Tim's slight shoulder tension as he gestured toward his office. "Shall we?"

As they moved past your desk, Tim gave you the briefest of glances – a look you'd learned to interpret over months of working together. This one clearly said: "Hold all calls unless the building's on fire, and maybe even then."

Samantha lingered, adjusting her designer handbag with deliberate slowness. "I'll need copies of all correspondence between our offices from the last month," she announced, as if she hadn't already received them twice.

"I'll have those ready by the time the meeting concludes," you replied smoothly, silently adding 'you insufferable paper-pusher' in your head.

As she finally followed the men into Tim's office, you sank back into your chair, already pulling up the correspondence files. At least you'd had the foresight to grab that extra shot of espresso in your morning coffee. Something told you this was going to be a long day.

Eventually, as you'd expected, Samantha was ushered out of the room to give the two men privacy. The glass frosted further, obscuring Bruce and Tim from view – a clear signal that whatever discussion followed would be more about family than business. You mentally added "pick up comfort donuts" to your afternoon agenda, already knowing Tim's favorites: chocolate-glazed for regular bad days, Boston cream for family drama.

The rhythmic clicking of your keyboard filled the silence, punctuated only by Samantha's restless shuffling. She cleared her throat with obvious intent, and you looked up, raising an eyebrow in what you hoped was a passably polite expression.

"You know we've never actually talked," she began, voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Which is so weird considering aren't we the same age?"

You bit back the urge to point out that she was actually five years your senior and somehow acted a decade younger. The irony wasn't lost on you.

"How did you exactly get this job?" she pressed on, tilting her head in practiced curiosity. "I always heard Mr. Drake was... picky."

Your eye twitched at the obvious implication, but you maintained your composure. Years of advanced placement courses had taught you patience, if nothing else. "Mr. Drake hand picked me for this job," you responded, keeping your tone professional and detached.

She gasped with theatrical surprise, as if this wasn't common knowledge in the Wayne Enterprises gossip circuit. "Really? Do you mind if I ask why?"

'Yes,' you thought, but instead rolled your head side to side, releasing some tension with a satisfying pop. "No, I don't mind. Mr. Drake chose me because he met me through the Martha Wayne scholarship. I was looking for a job during that time and my professors recommended me for the position."

You deliberately omitted how Tim had tracked your academic career with interest long before that – how you'd graduated high school two years early, earned a full ride to Gotham University, and excelled in advanced courses he'd specifically recommended. Let her draw her own conclusions; you had nothing to prove to Samantha or anyone else.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken questions. You could practically see her trying to piece together a narrative that fit her preconceptions, one that wouldn't force her to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, you'd earned your position through merit rather than whatever implications she was so eager to make.

Before she could formulate another sugar-coated barb, your phone buzzed with an incoming email. The subject line made you suppress a smile: it was from Tim, sent from his phone.

"If you'll excuse me," you said, turning back to your computer with practiced dismissal, "I have some urgent matters to attend to."

You could feel her hovering, reluctant to give up her fishing expedition. But years of dealing with Gotham's elite had taught you the art of creating an impenetrable wall of professional busy-ness. After a few more moments, she finally retreated to one of the waiting area chairs, her designer heels clicking in defeat.

Opening Tim's email, you found a single line: "Order lunch in. This might take a while."

You glanced at the frosted glass of his office, wondering what family drama was unfolding behind it. In your year working here, you'd learned to read the signs: the level of frosting on the glass, the tension in Tim's shoulders, the particular way Bruce Wayne's visits seemed timed to maximize inconvenience. Something was definitely up, and judging by the atmosphere, it was bigger than the usual Wayne family dynamics.

"The Martha Wayne scholarship?" Samantha's voice dripped with faux interest, her voice cutting through your thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. "That must have been... nice. Getting a free ride like that."

Your fingers paused briefly over your keyboard before resuming their steady rhythm. Two could play at this game. "It was an honor," you replied evenly. "The foundation only selects the top 1% of applicants. I'm sure you're familiar with the process, working so closely with Mr. Wayne."

Her smile flickered for just a moment. "Oh, I handle more of the... executive side of things."

"Of course." You kept your eyes on your screen, responding to an urgent email from R&D while she processed your subtle jab.

"Still," she persisted, examining her manicured nails, "it must be challenging, working for someone so... young. Especially given your... background."

You felt your jaw clench but maintained your professional demeanor. "Mr. Drake's age has nothing to do with his capabilities. He's one of the most brilliant minds in Gotham's business sector." Your tone carried just enough edge to make it clear you wouldn't tolerate any disparagement of Tim.

"Oh, I didn't mean anything by it," Samantha backpedaled, though her smirk suggested otherwise. "It's just that some of us had to work our way up the traditional path. But I suppose there are... other ways to advance."

You actually had to bite your tongue to keep from pointing out that her "traditional path" had involved an uncle on the board of directors. Instead, you smiled pleasantly and reached for your coffee. "Everyone's path is different. For instance, I started in the scholarship program at fifteen, finished my degree at twenty, and earned this position through academic excellence and practical capability. But you're right – there are many ways to advance."

The subtle emphasis on your achievements made her shift uncomfortably in her chair. Before she could respond, your intercom buzzed.

"Miss (L/N), could you send in the Miller files?" Tim's voice was perfectly professional, but you caught the underlying tension.

"Right away, Mr. Drake." You stood, gathering the requested documents, grateful for the interruption. As you moved toward his office, you called back to Samantha, "Please excuse me. Duty calls."

You could feel her glare burning into your back as you approached Tim's door, but you kept your posture straight and your stride confident. You'd worked too hard to let someone like Samantha make you doubt your place here, even for a second.

Besides, you had more important things to worry about – like what kind of family drama was causing that muscle in Tim's jaw to twitch visible even through the frosted glass, and whether you should upgrade those comfort donuts to a full stress-eating care package. You handed him the files before going back to your desk.

Your phone buzzed against the desk, the screen lighting up with a notification that made your stomach turn.

Text notification: 1

Asshole: hey bbg can we talk? I know you're probably still mad at me…

You swiped away Josh's message with perhaps more force than necessary. Josh. Your sweet, charming, lying ex-boyfriend who apparently thought "probably still mad" was an adequate response to finding him in bed with your supposed best friend. You'd been playing an exhausting game of dodge-the-ex across Gotham for weeks now, removing yourself from your usual haunts just to avoid his attempts at "explaining." The mere thought of him made your skin crawl.

"Whose that? Your little boyfriend?" Samantha's sugary voice cut through your thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. How someone could have such a grating voice was beyond you.

"Ex. Ex-boyfriend," you corrected automatically, then mentally kicked yourself for engaging. You shook your head, redirecting to safer, professional territory. "I'd rather not talk about it. Do you think you could send over the info for the upcoming Christmas gala when you get back to your office?"

Samantha's face fell into an exaggerated pout at your deflection, clearly disappointed at being denied fresh gossip fodder. You could practically see her filing away this nugget of personal information for future use. Nothing stayed private for long in Wayne Enterprises, but you'd be damned if you gave her the satisfaction of spreading this particular story.

Your phone buzzed again, and you flipped it face-down with a bit more force than necessary. The movement caught Samantha's attention, her eyes lighting up with predatory interest.

"Bad breakup?" she pressed, leaning forward slightly. "Those are always so... difficult. Especially when you have to maintain a professional image at work."

The implied threat in her words – that she could make this gossip very public, very quickly – wasn't lost on you. But you'd handled worse than Samantha's attempts at social manipulation.

"The Christmas gala details?" you repeated, your tone making it clear the previous topic was closed for discussion. "Mr. Drake needs to review the schedule, and I'd like to avoid any potential conflicts with Mr. Wayne's calendar."

Her lips pursed at your professional pivot, but before she could attempt another probe into your personal life, the sound of approaching footsteps from Tim's office made you both straighten instinctively. The frosting on the glass cleared as Bruce emerged first, his expression unreadable as always. Tim followed, and your trained eye caught the tension in his shoulders, the slight clench of his jaw that spelled out family drama in neon letters.

"I'll expect those reports by Friday," Bruce stated, though something in his tone suggested this wasn't really about reports at all.

"Of course," Tim replied, professional mask firmly in place. Only someone who knew him well would catch the slight strain in his voice.

Samantha jumped to attention, gathering her things with practiced efficiency. "I'll send over the gala information this afternoon," she chirped, finally, blessedly ready to leave.

You watched as Bruce and Samantha departed, waiting until the elevator doors closed before turning to Tim. He was still standing there, staring at the closed elevator doors as if they held the secrets of the universe.

"I ordered Thai from that place you like," you said softly. "And I can have someone grab those donuts from downtown if-"

"You're a lifesaver," he interrupted, running a hand through his carefully styled hair, completely destroying its professional arrangement. "But can we... can we not eat in the office?"

You blinked in surprise. In all your time working here, Tim had never suggested leaving the office for lunch. "Of course. Where would you prefer?"

"The roof?" He looked almost sheepish suggesting it. "I just... I need air that doesn't smell like Wayne Enterprises for a few minutes."

Your phone buzzed again – probably Josh – but you ignored it. "I'll grab the food when it arrives. You should go up now, get some fresh air."

He nodded, already loosening his tie as he headed for the stairwell. Twenty minutes later, you found him sitting on the maintenance ledge, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, looking more like a college student than a CEO.

"One Pad Thai with extra peanuts," you announced, settling down beside him with the takeout bags. "And yes, I grabbed extra spring rolls."

"You know me too well," he managed a small smile, accepting the container you handed him. "I'm sorry about..." he gestured vaguely with his chopsticks, "all that."

"Family's complicated," you offered, carefully keeping your tone neutral as you opened your own lunch.

"Bruce wants me to relocate to the Metropolis office," he said suddenly, staring out at the Gotham skyline. "Says it would be 'good for my professional development.'"

You nearly choked on your spring roll. "Metropolis?"

"Yeah." He stabbed at his noodles with more force than necessary. "Because apparently running the Gotham office isn't enough of a challenge."

"That's ridiculous," you said before you could stop yourself. "You've increased productivity by 40% since taking over, our client retention is at an all-time high, and the employee satisfaction surveys-"

"Have you been memorizing my achievements?" He turned to look at you, a hint of amusement breaking through his stress.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. "It's my job to know these things."

"Right. Your job." Something flickered across his face too quickly to read. "Speaking of jobs... you'd have to come too, you know. To Metropolis. If I agreed."

Your heart did a complicated flip in your chest. "Are you... considering it?"

"No," he said quickly, then paused. "Maybe. I don't know." He set down his food and turned to face you fully. "Would you? Come to Metropolis, I mean? If I asked?"

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications neither of you were ready to address. Your phone buzzed again in your pocket, but for once, you didn't even notice.

You hummed softly, letting your gaze drift over Gotham's sprawling landscape. From this height, you could actually see past the city's ever-present smog, though any true Gothamite knew the city's real beauty emerged after dark. The endless sea of lights, the way the neon cut through the darkness – it was home, or at least it had been.

Your phone buzzed again, another message from Josh joining the pile. You glanced down at the string of notifications, each one a reminder of how quickly your social circle had imploded. Some friends they'd turned out to be – taking his side, sending nasty messages about how a "prude" like you had it coming. The betrayal still stung, but maybe not as sharply as it should. Maybe that said something about how ready you were to leave it all behind.

Your parents had always encouraged you to spread your wings beyond Gotham's borders anyway. "The world's bigger than Crime Alley," your mom used to say. You slipped the phone back into your pocket, silencing the ghosts of relationships past.

"Yeah, I'd come with you," you said finally, turning back to Tim with a slight smile. "It's my job to be at your side during all the professional hours anyway."

Something shifted in his expression at your words. "'Professional hours,'" he repeated, as if testing the phrase. "Right. Because that's what this is about. Professional... obligations."

The way he said it made your heart skip a beat. There was a weight to his words that seemed to encompass more than just office dynamics and working relationships. The autumn breeze picked up, carrying with it the distant sounds of the city below, and you found yourself hyperaware of how close you were sitting, how his rolled-up sleeves revealed surprisingly toned forearms, how his hair was still slightly mussed from running his hands through it.

"Tim," you started, then caught yourself. "Mr. Drake-"

"Don't," he interrupted softly. "Don't do that. Not up here." He gestured to the expanse around you. "We're literally above all that right now."

Your phone buzzed again, and this time Tim noticed your slight wince. "Everything okay?"

"Just..." you waved a hand dismissively, "ex-boyfriend drama. Nothing important."

His expression darkened slightly. "Josh?" At your surprised look, he added quickly, "I... might have overheard some break room gossip. About what happened."

"Great," you muttered, heat rising to your cheeks. "Good to know my humiliation made it all the way to the executive floor."

"Hey," his voice was gentle but firm, "you're not the one who should be humiliated. He's the idiot who-" he cut himself off, jaw clenching. "Sorry. Not my place."

"No, it's..." you found yourself smiling despite everything, "it's kind of nice. Hearing someone take my side for once."

The look he gave you then made your breath catch. "I'm always on your side," he said quietly, and somehow you knew he meant more than just the Josh situation.

You forced yourself to take a steady breath, trying to calm your racing heart. No. Absolutely not. You were not going to develop feelings for your boss. It didn't matter that Tim was barely a year older than you, or that his disheveled appearance right now made him look unfairly attractive, or that the way he was looking at you made your stomach do flips. This was a completely professional relationship and it would stay that way. You cleared your throat and offered him a carefully measured smile.

"Well, if we do end up moving to the Metropolis office, I'd have to start looking at apartments over there," you murmured, already running calculations in your head. Even with your generous salary, Metropolis real estate prices were notorious. Maybe you could find something affordable downtown, though the commute would be rough. Your inner penny-pincher was already cringing at the potential security deposits and elevated cost of living.

"About that," Tim straightened slightly, his expression shifting to something you couldn't quite read. "Wayne Enterprises has corporate housing in Metropolis. High-rise apartments, actually. Usually reserved for executives and their... key personnel."

The way he said 'key personnel' made your pulse jump again. Traitor heart.

"Key personnel?" you echoed, trying to keep your tone light.

"Well," he shifted slightly closer, and you caught a whiff of his expensive cologne mixed with coffee, "can't have my irreplaceable assistant living in some sketchy downtown apartment, can I?"

"I'm hardly irreplaceable," you protested weakly, even as your brain helpfully reminded you that no other assistant had lasted more than three months before you.

Tim's expression turned serious. "You are, though. You're the only one who's ever..." he paused, seeming to choose his words carefully, "understood. The job. The pressure. Me."

The last word hung in the air between you, loaded with unspoken implications. You became acutely aware of how close you were sitting, how easy it would be to just lean a little closer, how his eyes seemed to darken as they met yours.

Your phone buzzed again, shattering the moment. Tim's gaze flickered to your pocket, then back to your face, something almost like frustration crossing his features.

You sighed, glancing down at your persistently buzzing pocket. "I should probably..." you mumbled, finally pulling out your phone. You knew Josh well enough to know he wouldn't stop until you dealt with him directly. Your face twisted in disgust as you scrolled through the barrage of messages – a nauseating mix of sweet manipulation ("baby, please, we can work this out"), degrading insults, and crude comments about your intimate life together. The last ones made your skin crawl, especially his boasts about being the 'only one who could make you feel that good.' Gross.

You could feel Tim's eyes on you as you stared at the screen, trying to formulate a response that wouldn't just feed into Josh's need for attention. The weight of Tim's gaze was different from the usual scrutiny you felt in the office – more protective than professional.

"Maybe you should just block him?" Tim suggested, his voice carrying an edge you rarely heard. The CEO tone, as you privately called it – the one that made board members squirm.

You shook your head, words tumbling out before you could stop them. "No way. I need him to see I can live without him." The admission hung in the air, more vulnerable than you'd intended. Your fingers hovered over your phone's keypad as you entered your passcode, very aware of how childish that might sound to someone like Tim.

But when you glanced up, there was no judgment in his expression – just something fierce and protective that made your breath catch. He shifted closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body in the cool rooftop air.

"He already sees it," Tim said quietly, his eyes fixed on your face. "Every day you walk into this building, every meeting you handle perfectly, every time you prove you're exactly where you belong – that's you living without him. And doing it better than he could ever imagine."

The intensity in his voice made you look up, and suddenly you were trapped in his gaze, your phone temporarily forgotten in your hands. This wasn't your boss speaking anymore – this was something else entirely, something that made your heart race and your professional boundaries start to blur.

Your breath caught as you suddenly became hyperaware of every point of contact between you – his fingers wrapped gently but firmly around your bicep, his head tilted toward yours, close enough that you could see the flecks of blue in his eyes. "Mr. Drake, I-"

He rolled his eyes, but there was a playful warmth in the gesture that made your stomach flip. "Tim. Just Tim for right now."

Your lips parted to respond, but the creak of the rooftop door shattered the moment. Dick Grayson, the eldest Wayne sibling, emerged into the afternoon light, and Tim immediately pulled back, professional distance snapping into place like a shield. The sudden absence of his warmth left you feeling oddly bereft.

"Hey Timbo, sorry to interrupt your lunch but I need a favor." Dick's trademark charming smile did nothing to soften Tim's exasperated expression.

"Sure, just let me finish my food-" Tim paused, catching something in Dick's expression. "This is kind of favor you need now?" When Dick nodded apologetically, Tim grumbled but began closing his takeout container.

Before standing, he turned back to you, placing his hand over your phone. His eyes locked with yours with an intensity that made your knees weak despite sitting down. "Block him." It wasn't a request – it was pure CEO Tim Drake, the voice that brokered no argument. "We won't have room for people like him if we move to Metropolis, am I understood?"

The 'we' in that sentence felt weighted with possibility, but you pushed that thought aside. "Yes, Mr. Drake."

You watched as he gathered his things, noting how his professional mask slipped perfectly back into place, though something in his eyes remained softer when he looked at you. As he followed Dick toward the door, you could have sworn you saw him shoot his brother an irritated look.

Your phone buzzed again in your hands, but this time, instead of anxiety, you felt a surge of determination. Tim was right – you didn't need Josh's validation. With steady fingers, you pulled up his contact information and hit 'block.'

The city stretched out below you, Metropolis somewhere beyond the horizon, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe properly.

.

.

.

Red and blue lights pulsed across your face as the bass thundered through your chest, making your ribs vibrate with each beat. The news of the Metropolis transfer was official now – you and Tim would be heading the new office. You couldn't quite suppress the smug satisfaction you'd felt watching Samantha's face fall when the announcement was made, her practiced smile cracking just slightly at the edges.

Now, though, you were somewhat regretting sharing the news with your family. Your elder sisters had immediately sprung into celebration mode: Indi, the successful Gotham model, had easily swept you all past the velvet ropes of one of the city's hottest clubs, while Scarlet had managed a few congratulatory drinks before motherhood called her home to your nephew.

That left you nursing a dirty triple Shirley temple (which had been a mouthful to order over the deafening music) and hugging the wall like it was your job. From your vantage point, you could see Indi on the dance floor, practically melded to some guy she'd been flirting with all night. The sequins on her dress caught the strobing lights, making her look like some sort of disco ball goddess – exactly the kind of attention-grabbing presence she was known for.

You took another sip of your drink, the cherry sweetness a sharp contrast to the adult addition of vodka. The music shifted, something with a heavier beat that made the crowd surge with renewed energy. You checked your phone out of habit – no more texts from Josh, thank god, but there was a work email notification that made your heart skip:

From: Timothy Drake-Wayne

Subject: Tomorrow's Schedule Change

Time Sent: 10:47 PM

Your finger hovered over the notification, debating whether to open it. Tim had been... different since that day on the roof. Not obviously so – you both maintained perfect professionalism in the office – but there were moments: lingering glances, fingers brushing when passing documents, the way he'd started saying your name just a touch softer than necessary.

As you hesitated to open it someone bumped into you, luckily you saved your drink from spilling all over the black halter dress you were wearing showing off your back.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't-” the masculine voice was cut off as you looked up and you both stilled. Seeing Tim out of a suit was jarring, seeing tim out of a suit and in a club? That was wild.

“Mr. Drake!”

“We are out of work. Just tim” he sighed at you but it was almost in a pleased exasperation.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Drake but you'll have to try harder than that,” The teasing words slipped out before you could stop them. Tim blinked and then a wry smirk pulled on his face.

Tim's eyes darkened at your challenge, that CEO intensity suddenly focused entirely on you. "Try harder?" He stepped closer, just shy of improper, voice dropping low enough that you had to lean in to hear him over the music. "What exactly would that take?"

The bass pulsed through your bodies, and you were acutely aware of how different this felt from your usual office dynamics. Here, in the strobing lights and thundering music, with your back exposed by the halter dress and his suit traded for dark jeans and a fitted black henley, the careful professional distance you maintained seemed to blur and shift.

"Tim!" A familiar voice cut through the moment. Dick Grayson emerged from the crowd, another brother – Jason – trailing behind him. "Thought I saw you come this way." His eyes landed on you, and his grin widened. "Well, well. Fancy meeting you here."

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, suddenly very conscious of how close you and Tim were standing. "Mr. Grayson," you managed, trying to sound professional despite the club setting.

"Oh god, not you too," Dick groaned. "It's just Dick, please. We're not at work."

"Leave her alone," Jason cut in, giving you a knowing look. "Some of us appreciate proper manners." He turned to Tim with a smirk. "Though I gotta say, baby bird, running into your secretary at a club? That's some rom-com level timing."

"Assistant," you and Tim corrected simultaneously, then shared a quick glance that made Dick's grin grow impossibly wider.

"Right, assistant," Jason drawled, making the word sound far more suggestive than it had any right to be. "The one Bruce mentioned is moving to Metropolis with you?"

The music shifted again, something slower but still thrumming with energy. Tim's jaw tightened slightly at the mention of Bruce, and you found yourself unconsciously shifting closer, a movement that didn't go unnoticed by his brothers.

"Speaking of Metropolis," Dick's eyes gleamed with mischief, "I hear the nightlife there is pretty tame compared to Gotham. You two might have to make your own entertainment."

"Dick," Tim's voice carried a warning edge that made you think of board meetings and difficult clients.

"What? I'm just saying, all those late nights in the office..." Dick trailed off suggestively.

You took a long sip of your drink, using the moment to steady yourself. "I should probably find my sister," you said, looking for an escape from this increasingly dangerous conversation. "She tends to get... ambitious when left unsupervised too long."

"The model?" Jason asked, eyebrows rising. "Tall, sequined dress, currently wrapped around that guy by the DJ booth?"

You turned to look where he was pointing, and sure enough, there was Indi, having apparently upgraded from her previous dance partner. "That's her."

"Runs in the family, huh?" Dick muttered, too quiet for anyone but Jason to hear, though the sharp look Tim shot him suggested he'd caught it too.

"I'll walk you over," Tim said suddenly, placing a hand on the small of your back. The touch sent electricity down your spine, his fingers warm against your exposed skin.

As you moved through the crowd, Tim's hand stayed steady on your back, guiding you through the press of bodies. The contact felt simultaneously too much and not enough, and you found yourself hyperaware of every brush of his fingers, every slight pressure as he steered you around dancing couples.

"I didn't know you came to places like this," you said, having to lean close to his ear to be heard over the music. His cologne filled your senses, different from his usual office scent – something darker, spicier.

He leaned down, his breath tickling your ear as he replied, "I don't, usually. Dick dragged me out to 'celebrate' the Metropolis news." His tone on 'celebrate' suggested this wasn't entirely voluntary. "Though it's looking up now."

The implications in that last statement made your heart race, and you were grateful for the dim lighting hiding your blush. You were nearing the DJ booth now, Indi's sequined dress acting like a beacon in the strobing lights.

Tim's hand slipped from your back as you reached the edge of the dance floor, and the loss of contact felt almost physical. You turned to face him, finding his eyes already on you, intense despite the chaotic lighting.

"About that email," he said, stepping closer to be heard over the music. "I was wondering if you'd like to-"

"Baby sis!" Indi's voice cut through whatever Tim was about to say. She detached herself from her dance partner, practically bouncing over to you. "There you are! And with company?" Her eyes raked over Tim appreciatively. "Very nice company."

"Mr. Drake-Wayne," you introduced formally, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism even as Indi's eyebrows shot up in recognition.

"Your boss?" she stage-whispered, not nearly as quietly as she probably thought. "The one you're moving to Metropolis with?" Her grin turned predatory. "Oh, this is interesting."

You felt your face flame. "Indi-"

"Dance with us!" she declared, already reaching for both you and Tim. "Consider it a pre-Metropolis celebration!"

The music swelled, and you found yourself being pulled onto the dance floor, Tim's amused expression the last thing you saw before the crowd swallowed you up. His hand found yours in the chaos, steady and warm, and suddenly the bass didn't seem quite so overwhelming.

As Indi disappeared back into the crowd, presumably to find her previous dance partner, you felt Tim pull you closer, his other hand finding its way back to your exposed back.

"So," he said, mouth close to your ear, "about that email..."

Your heart thundered in time with the music as you waited for him to continue, but a commotion near the bar caught your attention. Your eyes widened as you recognized a familiar figure being escorted out by security.

"Is that...?" Tim followed your gaze.

"Josh," you confirmed, watching as your ex-boyfriend was firmly guided toward the exit, his protests lost in the music. "I didn't even know he came here."

Tim's hand tightened slightly on your back. "Want me to have security make sure he stays out?"

The protective edge in his voice made something warm bloom in your chest. "No," you said, surprising yourself with how much you meant it. "He's not worth the effort anymore."

Tim's eyes softened as he looked at you, and suddenly the club, the music, even Josh's dramatic exit – it all faded into background noise. "Good," he said quietly, though you heard him perfectly despite the chaos around you. "Because I was thinking..."

The music shifted again, something slower, more intimate, and Tim pulled you imperceptibly closer.

"Yes?" you prompted, your heart racing as his hand traced small circles on your back.

"Maybe we should discuss those Metropolis arrangements... over dinner?"

The implications in his tone made it clear this wasn't about corporate housing or office logistics. You looked up at him, finding nothing but sincerity in his eyes, and felt a smile tug at your lips.

"That would be highly unprofessional, Mr. Drake," you said, but there was no real protest in your voice.

His answering smile was worth every HR regulation you were about to break. "I thought you told me to try harder, hm?"

And there, in the middle of a Gotham nightclub, with your ex being thrown out and your sister probably watching with glee, you finally let yourself lean into the warmth of Timothy Drake-Wayne's embrace.

"Dinner sounds perfect," you whispered, "Tim."

His smile could have lit up all of Gotham.

That's how you and Tim had gotten swept over into a booth and were actually just talking for once. Well. You both might have been a bit tipsy.

“Honestly Josh wasn't even my worst ex. There was this one girl, Maxine. Max and I dated for like all of college but she'd never bring me home or anything cause she was still closeted and stuff which I mean I get it. I didn't come out til I was like sixteenish luckily my family had enough things to worry about with my sister scarlet becoming a mom that one of us being bi-sexual was kinda glossed over. But anyway Max ended up breaking up with me and getting engaged to just some guy within like a month.” Your hands moved as you spoke, nearly sloshing your drink but Tim steadied it for you and gave a sympathetic nod.

“I get that,” he murmured. Your eyes trailed over the crowd again silently checking up on your sister. You nearly spat your drink out causing Tim to also look over. “I think your brother is trying to serenade my sister.”

You watched in horror and slight pride as indi and dick were clearly flirting with each other on the other side of the club.

“Probably planning how to embarrass us next too,” Tim hummed his hand resting on your thigh.

You let out a soft laugh, not moving away from his touch. "Oh god, can you imagine the family dinners? Indi would absolutely weaponize her model status to terrorize Bruce Wayne."

Tim's thumb traced absent patterns on your thigh, sending little sparks of electricity through your body. "Honestly? I'd pay to see that. Bruce needs someone to ruffle his feathers occasionally." His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Though I have to say, you've been doing a pretty good job of that yourself."

"Me?" You blinked in surprise, taking another sip of your drink.

"Mmhmm." Tim shifted closer, his shoulder pressing against yours in the intimate space of the booth. "The way you handle Samantha? Your complete overhaul of the filing system? That presentation you gave last week?" His voice dropped lower. "Bruce hasn't been this impressed by anyone since Barbara Gordon herself."

The comparison to the legendary Barbara Gordon – now CFO of Wayne Tech – made you flush with pride and embarrassment. "I just do my job."

"No," Tim's voice was serious now, though his hand remained warm on your thigh. "You do so much more than that. You..." he paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. "You make everything better. Easier. Not just the work stuff, but..." he gestured vaguely with his free hand, "everything."

The vulnerability in his voice made your heart clench. You'd never seen him quite like this – guard down, words flowing freely, eyes soft in the dim club lighting. It was a far cry from the composed CEO who commanded boardrooms and managed million-dollar deals.

"Speaking of making things better," you said, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy moment, "remember that time you caught me stress-eating donuts in the supply closet after the Johnson meeting?"

Tim's laugh rumbled through his chest. "And instead of being professional about it, I just sat down and asked for one?" His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Best decision I ever made. Though I still maintain Boston cream is superior to your chocolate glazed preference."

"Excuse you, chocolate glazed is a classic for a reason." You nudged his shoulder playfully, then froze as you caught sight of Dick and Indi again. "Oh my god, they're exchanging numbers."

Tim followed your gaze and groaned. "Dick's never going to let this go. He's probably already planning double dates."

The casual way he said 'double dates' made your stomach flip. "Is that what this is?" you asked before you could stop yourself. "A date?"

Tim's hand tightened slightly on your thigh as he turned to face you fully. The booth suddenly felt much smaller, more intimate. "Do you want it to be?"

Your breath caught as you met his gaze. There was no trace of the CEO now – this was just Tim, looking at you like you were something precious and dangerous all at once.

"I..." you started, then jumped as someone slid into the booth opposite you.

"Baby bird!" Jason's voice cut through the moment like a knife. "And the assistant who's definitely just an assistant." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Tim's hand didn't move from your thigh, though you saw his jaw clench slightly. "What do you want, Jason?"

"Can't a guy check on his baby brother?" Jason's grin was positively feral. "Especially when said brother is getting cozy with his very attractive employee in a very public place?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but before you could formulate a response, Indi appeared at the table, Dick in tow.

"Sister swap!" she announced cheerfully. "Dick's taking me to this amazing late-night food truck, and you" she pointed at you with a perfectly manicured finger, "are coming with us because I refuse to eat street food alone with a strange man, even if he is unreasonably attractive."

"Hey!" Dick protested, though he was grinning.

You felt Tim's hand squeeze your thigh once before reluctantly withdrawing. "Rain check on that answer?" he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

Your heart did a complicated flip in your chest as you nodded. As you slid out of the booth, letting Indi pull you toward the exit, you couldn't help but look back. Tim was watching you go, something intense and promising in his expression that made your skin tingle.

"So," Indi linked her arm through yours as you emerged into the cool Gotham night, Dick and Jason trailing behind you. "Want to tell me why you never mentioned how hot your boss is? Or why his hand was very obviously on your thigh for the past hour?"

"Or why you're both looking at each other like you're starring in your own personal rom-com?" Dick added helpfully.

You groaned, but couldn't quite suppress your smile. "Can we just focus on finding this amazing food truck you mentioned?"

"Oh honey," Indi's grin was wicked, "you really think we're letting this go? You're about to move to Metropolis with that man. This is prime sisterly interrogation material."

As your sister dragged you through the neon-lit streets of Gotham, Dick and Jason providing running commentary on the best late-night eateries, you found your thoughts drifting back to the booth, to Tim's touch, to that unanswered question hanging between you.

Your phone buzzed in your purse:

From: Tim

Message: Dinner tomorrow? Somewhere without nosy siblings?

You bit your lip to hide your smile as you typed back a response:

To: Tim

Message: Only if you promise to let me order chocolate glazed dessert.

His reply was immediate:

From: Tim

Message: Deal. Though I still say Boston cream is superior.

"Oh my god, you're texting him already, aren't you?" Indi peered over your shoulder. "This is adorable. Dick, look how adorable they are!"

"I hate all of you," you declared, but your grin betrayed you.

"No you don't," Dick said cheerfully. "Just wait until family game night. Bruce is going to have an aneurysm."

As your sister and the Wayne brothers debated the merits of various food trucks, your phone buzzed one last time:

From: Tim

Message: For the record? I definitely want it to be a date.

The Gotham night suddenly felt a lot warmer.

"You know, we do have another sister-"

"Indi! Stop it!"

You lunged for your eldest sister, but she was already showing Dick and Jason photos of Scarlet on her phone. Running a hand down your face, you fought the urge to text your other sister a warning about Indi's matchmaking schemes.

"Scarlet might actually kill you, you know," you deadpanned. Indi just shrugged, elegant and unrepentant in her sequined glory.

"That girl needs more to life than her shop and Harkin," she stated with a dramatic eye roll, scrolling to another photo.

"Harkin brings up my point. She's a mom, Indi. She can't just—"

"Lalalala can't hear you!" Indi sang out, covering her ears like a child rather than the successful model she was.

"I swear you are not the oldest out of all of us," you muttered, watching as Dick and Jason peered at the phone with increasing interest. "She runs a successful business, has an adorable kid, and is actually happy. Why are you like this?"

Dick looked up from the phone, his expression thoughtful. "The flower shop on Kane Street? With the blue awning?"

"You know it?" you asked, surprised.

"Bruce gets arrangements from there sometimes," Jason supplied, then smirked. "Though I'm betting he'll be ordering a lot more now that his son's dating the owner's sister."

"We're not—" you started automatically, then stopped, thinking of Tim's text burning a hole in your phone. Were you? The memory of his hand on your thigh, his quiet question in the booth, made your cheeks warm.

"Oooh, she's blushing!" Indi crowed triumphantly. "And here I thought Scarlet would be the one to snag a Wayne. She always was the pretty one—"

"Shut up," you groaned, snatching her phone. "Scarlet will murder us both if she finds out you're showing her photos to random men in clubs."

"Random men?" Dick pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I'll have you know we are now practically family. In fact..." He plucked Indi's phone from your grasp with surprising agility and continued scrolling. "As your future brother-in-law, I think I have a right to know all about my new sisters."

"Oh my god," you muttered, watching helplessly as Indi and Dick huddled over the phone, Jason offering commentary that was absolutely not helping.

Your phone buzzed again:

From: Tim

Message: Everything okay? Jason just sent me a very cryptic text about flower shops.

You looked up to find Jason watching you with a knowing smirk. "Did you seriously just text him?"

"Someone's gotta keep baby bird in the loop," he shrugged. "Besides, your sister's shop really does do nice arrangements. Bruce wasn't lying about that."

"The pink roses last month were from there," Dick added absently, still scrolling with Indi. "The ones for that charity gala?"

You remembered those roses. Scarlet had spent hours getting the gradient just right, each bloom a slightly different shade of pink fading to white. She'd been so proud of that order, even if she hadn't known it was for Wayne Enterprises.

"Speaking of flowers," Indi's eyes gleamed dangerously, "didn't Scarlet just hire that new delivery guy? The one with the motorcycle?"

"Indi, I swear to god—"

Your phone buzzed again:

From: Tim

Message: Should I be worried that Dick just asked Alfred for the flower shop's number?

You typed back quickly:

To: Tim

Message: Your brothers are conspiring with my sister. Send help.

His response was immediate:

From: Tim

Message: On my way. Though I should warn you, once Dick gets an idea in his head...

You looked up to find Indi and Dick exchanging contact information, presumably to better coordinate their matchmaking schemes, while Jason watched the whole thing with undisguised amusement.

To: Tim

Message: Too late. I think we're going to be seeing a lot of family dinners in our future.

From: Tim

Message: Good thing I like your family then. Even if Indi is currently plotting with Dick to revolutionize Wayne Enterprises' floral arrangements.

Despite everything, you couldn't help but smile. Your ridiculous family and his ridiculous brothers, all tangled up in each other's lives now. It should have been terrifying, but somehow...

"See?" Indi nudged you, having apparently finished her plotting with Dick. "This is what happens when you finally let yourself have some fun. Now come on, that food truck isn't going to wait forever."

As you let yourself be pulled along the Gotham streets, your phone warm with Tim's messages in your hand, you thought maybe – just maybe – your sister had a point.

Even if you'd never, ever admit it to her face.

.

.

.

Taglist:

@ahqkas

@prettyktarou

@a-candle-maker

@mact85

@babxtxxn-blog

@mercys-manic-episode

@lilithskywalker

@princesstrunkz

@a-taken-url

[blorbocedes]

when I got into f1 a few years ago, im pretty sure the friends who had introduced me to it hadn't expected how much I'd get into it. I certainly never expected it. but wow. max was my guy before I even knew who he or f1 was, and then I was so privileged to watch him win and win and win. the literal peak of his career. 4 championships in a row. this season was extremely enjoyable as a racing fan, I had full belief max would win the championship so it was a matter of how and not if. and he proved me right! but such a competitive season, so many other teams getting their foot in, so many new first wins, surprise upsets. from next year it'll be a completely new f1, half the grid is gonna be freshmen, lewis in ferrari which I still haven't digested. ultimately in a way im glad this final race was a lando win and ferrari podium because it showed how much the status quo has shifted. max nowhere near the podium and how redbull are going into next year no longer the favourites to win. and unlike the last 3 years where I watched every single race I realized I can't do that anymore. At times f1 was a wonderful distraction when irl got really hard, but at some point - like the drivers going thru radical transformation, lewis leaving merc, nico leaving monaco, max becoming a dad! before this season lando had never won a race and now he's ready to fight for a championship crazyyy - I had to wonder if putting away time and cancelling plans for 24 weekends keeps me stuck in the same place. change is hard and scary. having a routine, of f1 to go back to is nice. but when does it become a crutch? was something I was thinking of this year. that's why I chose to enjoy watching every race to the fullest, and I honestly had a blast. because I knew I couldn't be doing that anymore. my favourite part about f1 is the community and the friends. I love you guys, I love writing, I love digging up lore, I love reading fics, I love the drama of silly season, I love the funny talented interesting people, sometimes even the fan wars are entertaining. and I don't want to lose that. so when I say my last full season, I mean I don't think I'll be making time for all 24 races next year. but I plan on sticking around and being here, for a while at least. I mean, we have this whole season to now digest and go crazy over and that part is done best with community. I have entire fics left to post!!! I don't know how much I'll be around next year, maybe I'll miss f1 too much by March, maybe redbull will be really fast. I know I'll always cherish this year as the best entire f1 season I followed, and im happy to end it at that. sorry 2 the haters who thought I was leaving for good 😁

tldr: this isn't the last you'll see of me. still here. this isn't the end. it's the slow start of the long goodbye

[gogogodzilla]

✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟚𝟘: 𝐶𝑜𝑤𝑏𝑜𝑦 & 𝐵𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒 𝐵𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑦 ✧

【𝑆𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎 𝐻𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑒... 】

╰› 〖 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 〗: … ride a cowboy

╰› 〖 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 〗: nsfw 18+, porn w/ plot, dirty talk, peeta calls reader "cowgirl," car sex, fingering, creampie, unprotected sex

╰› 〖 𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒 〗:  this is dedicated to the anon who requested cowboy!peeta mellark

✧ 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑡𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑚.𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ✧ 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑜3 ✧ 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑝𝑎𝑑 ✧

You loved it when the rodeo came to town. Not only was it a chance for you to make some extra cash and a fancy buckle, but it was also the perfect opportunity to watch some cowboys get thrown off various farm animals. 

The dusty warm air seemed to shift as the crowd buzzed with excitement. You adjusted the brim of your soft felt brim of your hat and took a deep breath, the familiar scent of dirt, leather, and hay swirling around you. 

Nerves bounced around your chest as you leaned against the cool metal fence. You were no stranger to the feeling, having been a barrel racer for years, but tonight was different. Tonight, you were focused on the bull rider that was about to take the stage and your heart along with it. 

Peeta had taken up bull riding with the same amount of determination and patience that seemed to define his every move. You’d been friends for as long as you could remember, you’d bonded over shared training sessions, late-night conversations about anything and everything, and the inevitable nerves right before a competition. You were amazed at how he transformed into a completely different person when he rode. A calm confidence radiated through everything he did, and tonight was no different.

You watched him from the sidelines, and your heart raced as he climbed into the chute. He wrapped the rope around his wrist and adjusted it every so often. His eyes were focused and his muscles tense, but his face remained calm. You wondered what was running through his mind. Usually, you attempted to drown the crowd out right before your advent, but it only helped so much when your mind was moving a mile a minute. 

The crowd’s energy was electric, and you all seemed to wait with bated breath for the gate to open. 

The gate burst open, and the bull shot out like a force of nature, bucking and twisting its body violently. Peeta moved with fluidity, gripping the bull tightly with his legs. He gripped the rope with controlled precision, almost as if he was anticipating the bull’s moves.

For eight heart-pounding seconds, the arena was completely his. A buzzer rang throughout the arena, signaling a successful run. Peeta jumped off the bull, landing in the dirt before scrambling away from the bucking animal. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, and you tried to fight the grin that began to form. 

His eyes moved furiously as he scanned the crowd, halting once he found you at your usual position by the fence. With a mischievous grin, he reached up and pulled off his cowboy hat, his light blonde hair tousled slightly from his ride. He neared your spot at the fence before raising his hat in the air, pausing just long enough for the crowd to notice. 

He tossed his hat in your direction, and, for a moment, it felt like time slowed as it sailed through the air. Out of pure instinct, you took a step back and raised your hands, your palms open. His hat landed perfectly in your hands.

For the first time in your life, Peeta Mellark surprised you. 

Your eyes widened as your gaze flickered between the hat nestled neatly in your hands and the man who threw it. Whistles and hoots erupted from the crowd, and your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you wished the ground would swallow you whole. 

Peeta reached the fence, grinning ear to ear. “You know what that means,” he teased, leaning against the bars of the fence. 

You felt the heat creep up your neck at his words, knowing damn well the insinuation of him throwing you his hat. 

You clutched his hat in your hands, wrinkling the soft felt under your grip. “I didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter,” you mentioned, pressing your lips in a thin line. 

“You could’ve dodged it,” Peeta suggested, leaning in slightly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m glad you didn’t though.” 

You were painfully aware of the crowd watching the hushed conversation between Peeta and you. 

“I’m not riding anything besides my horse, Mellark,” you managed to force out, shoving his hat back in his hands. 

He shrugged, placing his hat back on his head. “I’m sure you can make some time for me afterward.” 

You pretended to think before responding, “Nope, I’m all booked up for the night.” 

He chuckled, “Fortunately, I don’t shy away from some competition.” 

You rolled your eyes, laughing a little. Before you could reply, the announcer's voice echoed throughout the arena, calling for all barrel racers to line up. It was your turn to astonish the crowds. 

Peeta tipped his hat in your direction, “Guess you better show ‘em how it’s done, cowgirl.” 

As you mounted your horse, your nerves from earlier had long dissipated, leaving room for a different kind of excitement. You caught one last glimpse of Peeta leaning against the fence where you once stood, watching you with the same teasing smile. 

You rode to the starting line, adrenaline pumping through your veins. The barrels loomed ahead, and you swallowed hard. The crowd still buzzed from Peeta’s performance, but now all eyes were focused solely on you. 

With a deep breath, you spurred your horse forward, racing into the arena with a newfound determination. Your horse’s hooves pounded into the dirt below you as you raced toward the first barrel. You leaned to the side, and your horse matched your movements, mirroring your actions and weaving tightly around the barrel as if she was born to do it. 

The second barrel was just as clean, your horse responding to every shift of your body and tug of the reins. As you rounded the third barrel, you hung on tight as your horse burst forward, kicking up dirt behind you. You released the reins only slightly, allowing her to stretch out, and, together, you flew toward the finish line. The world blurred around you, and for a second, all you could feel was the wind in your hair and your horse’s muscles coiling and releasing below you. 

And then it’s over. You crossed the line, and the crowd exploded into applause. You tugged on the reins, bringing your horse to a stop in front of the crowd. You panted as you ran an affectionate hand down her neck, congratulating her for a job well done. 

You heard the announcer’s voice crackling through the speakers, but all you could focus on is your time flashing brightly on the scoreboard. You just beat your personal best. 

The deafening roar of the crowd hit you all at once as you locked eyes with Peeta, who was cheering and applauding just as wildly as everyone else. 

Finally, you dismounted and handed your horse off to an attendant, giving her one last affectionate pat and promising her a handful of treats. 

You made your way over to Peeta, and he watched as you hopped over the fence, landing on the other side with a thud. 

“Well, cowgirl,” he drawled, the teasing lilt back in his voice. “You ride pretty well.”

You laughed, “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Still waiting on that ride though.” 

Your pulse quickened as you looked up at him. The two of you had been square dancing on the line between friends and something more, and you debated whether to push your luck just a little further. 

Fuck it. 

“My truck or yours?” 

Next thing you knew, you were perched on Peeta’s lap trapped in a heated kiss in the back seat of his truck. Your shirt is half unbuttoned, and your bootcut jeans have long been tossed to the side. Attempting to undo the buckles on both of your belts was a battle in and of itself.

Peeta ran a hand up the bare skin of your thigh as he worked at undoing the rest of your buttons, uncovering your lacy bra beneath. The tent in his jeans pressed against your clothed core, causing a shiver to run through you. 

“Feel what you do to me, cowgirl?” he questioned against your lips, his voice husky with an edge of desperation that had you aching. 

You nodded, leaning down to kiss him and run a hand over his covered length. Peeta jutted his hips up to meet you, his breath stuttering at your movements. His nails raked against your thighs as you touched him. 

Peeta was quick to repay the favor, pulling your panties to the side and dragging a finger through your dripping folds before circling your clit. Breathy moans escaped you as you shoved your head in the crook of his neck, lazily pressing kisses to the skin there while your fingers tangled in his hair. 

He dipped a finger into your entrance and you pressed against him, begging for more. He obliged you, slowly inching a finger inside you before quickly adding another, stretching you divinely. He pumped his fingers, savoring the way your walls fluttered around him. He curled his fingers inside you, brushing up against the spot that had you crying out his name as you rutted your hips against him. 

“Fuck me,” you whimpered, grinding against his fingers when his movements slowed. “Please, Peeta.” 

He removed his fingers, and your whine was cut off by him shoving his fingers past your lips, making you taste yourself. Your tongue darted over the pads of his fingers as you looked down at him. Peeta used his free hand to tug at his belt buckle, and you reached down to help him. The smooth leather brushed up against one thigh while the cool metal of his buckle pressed into the other. 

You reached down to where your hips met, unbuttoning his pants and yanking down his zipper, impatience coursing through you. You released his length from his jeans, earning a breathy groan from Peeta. You pumped your hand, sliding your thumb over the leaky tip of his cock. 

You aligned him with your entrance and a strangled moan left both of you as you slowly lowered yourself onto his cock. A sigh left you when your hips were finally flush. 

Your hands settled onto his shoulders and you began to rock your hips against his. Peeta rested his head against the headrest, releasing little pants and moans that increased in volume with every thrust of your hips. 

Peeta glanced down to where you were joined, watching as you ground against him. Your lips chased after his, nearly losing yourself in the feeling of him. 

You weren’t sure what came over you, but you plucked his hat off his head and placed it on yours as you rode him. Peeta groaned at the sight, and his fingertips dug into the flesh of your hips. 

“You’re killing me,” he whimpered, looking up at you with the fucked-out expression that you’d dreamt about. 

You grinned, “I’m just following the rules.”

Condensation dripped down the windows, and it made the air warm, thick, and hazy. It settled on every exposed inch of your skin, and Peeta’s hands glided over your ass as he helped you move a little faster. 

You chased after your high as Peeta licked and nipped the bare skin of your chest, his tongue on your collarbone and his hands roaming over the lacy triangles of your bra. 

He rested a hand on your hip and extended his thumb, drawing hasty circles against your clit. You swore against his lips as you clenched around him.

Your thighs ached as you jerked your hips against his, urged on by the pretty noises he was making. You were driven by pure instinct, chasing after the release only he could give. 

You arched your back against him as he hit that spongy spot inside you that had you seeing stars. His name fell like a prayer from your lips as you hit that spot over and over again. 

“Fuck,” you whined, leaning your head back. “Feel so fucking good.”

It took no time for your release to hit you, practically knocking the wind out of you as you spasmed around Peeta’s cock. Your vision went hazy as you rode out your high. 

Peeta’s grip on your hips tightened as he planted his feet and pistoned into you, pursuing his high. Your fingers tangled into his shirt as he used you, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the truck. 

With one final snap of his hips, he came, his release costing your walls, hot and steady like the rest of him. It dripped down your thighs as you slowly pulled yourself off of him. 

You settled into the seat next to him, taking off his hat and resting your head on the window. 

“That was,” you drifted off, unsure of how exactly to describe what you just went through. 

“Yeah,” Peeta nodded, a grin tugging at his lips. 

Your features matched his, and you laughed. 

God, you loved the rodeo. 

[timeforaneclipse]

Falling Apart

Chapter one - A Guide

Lilia Calderu x reader

(No warnings so far) Available on ao3

The marrow of the day was moving onwards. Sitting in the cosy atmosphere of your living room, you leaned back into the sofa. Holding the cup of steaming hot herbal tea close to your chest, you flicked through the old worn leather book that once belonged to your older sister. You were careful with withering pages. Reaching for your cup of tea, you took a long sip of the liquid. The burning sensation on your tongue made you close your eyes for a moment. Enjoying the feeling. Suddenly, before you could fully relax yourself, there was a loud banging on your front door. Spilling tea all over yourself, you groaned. It burned slightly. "Shite." You hissed to yourself as you noticed the tea spillage on the book. A frown graced your lips as you stared at the writing smudges. The banging continued. BANG. BANG. BANG. Standing, you glared and adjusted your glasses. As you straightened you took in a deep breath and very slowly inched the door open. Just a crack to see who was banging your door off of it's hinges. 

As soon as the door opened a smidge, Bright blue eyes were right at the opening. It took you by surprise to see the figure invading your space. You recognised the woman immediately and felt your blood run cold and your face grow pale.  "Hi, are you Minerva Smith? As in the Minerva Smith?" At the question, you raised an eyebrow. The question came from a boy by her side. A teenager. He was had.. a gothic look about him. It seemed to suit the boy well. But his... appearance at your door step with this particular woman made you wonder and a little wary. You gave the boy a nod of confirmation as you let the gap in the door a little smaller.  "This is Aga-"

Out of habit, You adjusted your glasses for last time. Trying to calm yourself. "I know who she is." You hummed sternly but your tone was far from being completely harsh. "And if you were expecting an invitation into my home, you are very much mistaken." The boy stared wide-eyed and your quick dismissal while Agatha simply rolled her eyes. She was expecting a response like that. "You would do well to leave." You clarified and tied to shut the door. Yet, before you could slam the door on them. Agatha's eyes narrowed and she placed her foot in the way. You sighed in attempt to relax your tension. Your green cat-like eyes met Agatha's. She looked you up and down. You had both changed in your many years of not seeing each other. It was as if she was testing you. Seeing how long it would take you before cracking. Your grip remained firm on the door. Daring her to make her move.

The brunette smirked and glanced behind you. As if trying to spy the inside of your house. "Come on, Mins..." The older witch urged but you were having none of it. It was easy to tell that her smile was strained. Almost desperate. And that, Made you interested. Subconsciously, you opened the door a little wider. "Remember you owe me a favour." Your face went sour with her declaration. How dare she speak of favours after what she done? What she did? You tried to slam the door and walked away but Agatha was quick to stop the door and follow with a deep breath and flick of her hair. "No need for dramatics, Minerva." You scoffed at her audacity to call you dramatic. 

The two followed you to your kitchen. The teenager went to touch a small ornament. "Do not touch that." You hissed in a scowl, making the boy jump. "It'll burn your hand off." He looked bewildered. Why would you display such a thing? 

You began to fiddle with the kettle. Ignoring Agatha's amused look. "I'm walking the road." She finally said while your heart dropped. The road? The witches road? "I need a transformation witch." Now that caught you off guard. Yet, you couldn't lie to yourself, you were intrigued. In truth, a transformation witch was never entirely required to walk the road, So why did Agatha crave one so much? "I need one to guide us on the road." A guide? For the road? Well wasn't that something. You shook your head in deep thought. "And since your dear sister is not here to be of benefit, you'll have to fit the bill, mins." Agatha finished trying to hide the doubt buried in her eyes. but you were quick enough to recognise it. 

With narrowed green eyes you walked towards her with a slightly raised head. eyeing her up. "What fools had a low enough brain capacity to join your coven? Even if it is to attempt to open the doors to the road?" You spoke in a quiet whisper as you eyed the older woman. "Besides, I have no interest in being a tour guide for the road." She rolled her eyes at your statement. Her jaw clenching in utter annoyance. "You must be pretty desperate to come to me for help after what you did." The mutter was soft but there was warning to it. To tread carefully. Agatha swallowed her shoulders tensing. 

"Still holding that grudge, I see? I told you that what happened with Michelle was an accident."

Everything went still. Rage coursed through your form. An accident? Your sister was dead. How could she act as if that was just a mere.. trick of fate. "oh that's bollox and you know it. She's dead." You scoffed your words. Glancing at her hands, you raised an eyebrow. Her once stained fingers were clean. As if the dark hold never touched her fingertips. A smirk of disbelief left your red lips. "You've lost your power, haven't you?" Agatha looked taken back by your observation. "That is why you want to walk the witches road." You chuckled and shake your head. Typical.

The blue eyed witch came a little closer. Her eyes meeting yours. "Think about it, Minnie." The older witch whispered thickly. The boy watched the interaction between the two of you with interest. What had been the relationship between the two of you before this Michelle woman died? "Aren't you tired living in Michelle's shadow? Knowing that you'll never live up to her name?" The words sent a haunting shiver down your spine. Hitting you deep in your core. Agatha smirked, realizing she had hit what she wanted. She pulled back letting the wheels in your head turn. "Don't you want to make her proud, Minerva?" She said. "I'll see you at five." She smiled with a taunting look in her eyes. Swallowing, you glanced at the boy as he placed a card on the counter. 

He smiled widely. "Agatha's address." He clarified then chased after Agatha. Leaving you alone in your old house. You gritted your teeth and clenched your fists. Damn that wicked woman. 

Westview. A.. Pitiful place. You glanced at the card that the boy had left earlier. Yep, certainly the right place. Stopping outside one house, 2804, You raised an eyebrow. A missing door? It certainly looked like the right house. A distant sound of a crow made you jump out of your moment of deep thinking. Raising your head, you looked to the electrical wires on the street. There, Perched, sat a crow. Narrowing your emerald eyes, you took in it's appearance as it fluffed out it's pitch black feathers. Tilting your head, the crow seemed do the same. You shook it off. It was impossible. Sighing, you turned your back to it and made your way up the path to Agatha's house. Rolling your eyes as you passed the Mailbox. 

--I_I<-)0(->I_I--

Entering the house, you took in the surroundings. Hearing voices coming  down the short corridor, you followed.  As soon a you entered, Your gaze met Agatha's. She stared at you for a moment. Almost like she was relieved that you came. "Jennifer Kale." Said a woman to your right. She was very beautiful. As if she was favoured by Aphrodite herself. Almost like she was too perfect. Agatha seemed to role her eyes. You knew the woman's name. Of her skincare products. You didn't find yourself too interested. "Potions. And you?" she asked and tilted her head, curious about your ability. 

"Minerva Smith." You forced a polite smile. Jenifer looked like she had seen a ghost as she heard your name. Her eyes widening slightly with a twinkle in them. "Transfiguration." 

"Transfiguration?" The woman to your left smirked. You turned your attention to her. "You're a transformation witch?" Green eyes met gentle yet guarded hazel brown. There was was history in those eyes. Wisdom. You felt your pulse quicken the more you took in the owner of those eyes. She was a little smaller then you. Her hair was in tight curls but pinned into a bun at the back. "Strength." She dazed suddenly, her eyes glazed over. She looked magical. Your throat felt dry.  Over all, the woman before you looked... divine. "Lilia Calderu." She introduced as she took a bite of... some granola bar she was eating. Lilia Calderu. You smiled at the sound of her name it suited her. "Divination." She had you hooked as she mentioned her talent. 

Suddenly, another young woman came from the door way and stood in the hall. "This is never gonna work." She sighed and kept her hands in her pockets. You raised an eyebrow at the young women's sombre tone. "Your front door is missing." She nodded her head towards Agatha and the teenager by her side. The boy grinned widely. Calling the young woman by the name of Alice. He went to question her on how she fond him but she interrupted him. "I'm an ex cop." She stated and walked into the living room. "That's going to be the answer to a lot of questions." She seemed reserved but there was... a softness to her. 

Agatha clasped her hands together. "Well," She grinned and began to walk. "Gangs all here. Time to hit the road." You paused at Agatha enthusiasm. All here? What about an earth witch?

"Wait," Jennifer paused. Almost as if sharing your train of thought. "Where's our green witch?" She finalised while everyone stared at Agatha with expectance. Agatha's shoulder's tensed and she waved Jennifer off. Your brows furrowed when Agatha questioned if the coven really needed one. Was she serious? They wouldn't be able to open the door without one. Lilia, who had finished her granola bar, looked at Agatha like it was obvious. Claiming that the coven did need a green witch. Agatha argued against the fact and you sighed. Typical. What were you expecting? "The balled." Jennifer argued back against the blue eyed witch. "Wake thy power. Earthly and divine." she narrowed her eyes as she spoke. "Earth magic is arguably the most important skillset for an attempt at the road." 

"Getting cold feet already, Jen." Agatha snarked.

The boy spoke up. His attention stuck on Agatha. "Well, there was one more name on the coven list." He frowned. "Wasn't there?" His accusation left a tense atmosphere. Thick enough to cut through it with a knife.

Twitching her fingers, Agatha looked stuck for a moment. "Lilia's handwriting was so bad I couldn't even-" she hissed out her words like teenager having a tantum but then was interrupted by the boy as he turned to Lilia asking her what the last name was. It made you smirk for a moment. 

Lilia looked confused for a moment as she thought about the list she had made. "It wasn't a name. It was a heart." she spoke with her brows furrowed. You raised an eyebrow. A heart? Lilia then looked to Agatha. "A black heart." She clarified.

Looking uncomfortable, Agatha stared with her mouth slightly open. Almost as if she were caught off guard. As if Lilia had said something that triggered Agatha. "That's because you used a black pen." She scoffed a laugh. You looked around the room. No one was impressed. Sighing, you fixed your glasses. "Oh!" She practically sang as she clapped her hands together. "I know who it is." She smiled and began to walked out the door. "I'll just go get her. Be back in flash!" and with that she was gone.

Shaking your head, you sat down on the sofa. "So... a transformation witch." Jennifer hums as she examines you. "Surprised you're not running around with the Salem seven. Especially after what happened to your sister." A smirk came from the younger woman and your eyes narrowed. An intensity behind them. Lilia suddenly looked very uncomfortable with the rising tension. The boy looked between yourself and Jennifer. Perking at what Jennifer was asking you. "You know, when I was growing up I always loved the tales of the Smith sisters. Escaping Scotland to come to America. So what type of animal are you? Must be something powerful if Agatha wanted you in the coven." A smirk graced your lips. Certainly not. Sure, you were good at your craft but not... as powerful as what everyone thought you to be.

 "Well, I think you'd be pleased to know we Transformation witches aren't all taken over by our... animalistic instinct." Your smile was thin. Daring Jennifer to continue to test you. "My other...." You paused wondering how to put your other form into words. "Side.. is that of a cat. I'm afraid there is nothing overly special about it." Jennifer smirked to herself and seemed to shake her head. 

"Transformation witches may not be required on the road but they are beneficial in their own right." Lilia frowned and glanced at Jennifer. "They are a guidance. You should be thankful we have one." There was a slight sass in her tone. It made you smirk. The room sat in awkward silence until Agatha returned with a smile introduced a older woman by the name of Mrs Hart. She look sweet and a little confused. It made you curious on what exactly this woman was currently thinking.  Agatha, drawing the attention of the room, beckoned everyone downstairs into a basement. It was a spacious area. Agatha waved the teenager away and gestured for you to follow as you weren't apart of the ritual. Sighing, you reluctantly left the group.

Upstairs, You sat on the sofa and leaned back. The boy who was now holding Senior Scratchy, Agatha's familiar, smiled at you. "I'm glad you came. Agatha wasn't too sure you would." He sat beside you. "I think she's secretly glad too." You smiled and lightly pet Senior Scratchy on the head. However, the distant sound of many whispers caught your attention. You head snapped in the direction of the sound. The teenager followed your gaze. "Is something wrong?" He asked with a slightly worried frown. 

Biting the insides of your cheeks, You nodded to yourself more then to the boy. "Yeah... Just... Stay here, okay?" He nodded and watched as you stood and made your way towards the front door. The cold air made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. In the distance, standing in the middle of the road, was a woman. Dressed to the nines in black. Your throat felt dry. You recognised the figure immediately. In seconds The boy, who Agatha earlier called teen, was by your side. He looked confused. Holding senior Scratchy a little closer to his chest. He took a little step closer and you grabbed his arm tight. "Don't move." You hissed in a whisper.  In seconds, The figure turned into seven. Teen stared, his mouth a gap. With your body growing tenser, you pulled him a little behind you. They took a step forward and you felt your heart jump. Pushing Teen towards the house as you both bolted toward the non-existent door.

When you made it, Teen ran to check the window and began to fight with the curtains. "Teen, the sofa! Help me now." You barked and he leapt into action. Helping you hoist the sofa to the door and onto it's side. "They're gone?" Teen whispered confused as he looked out the small gap. You reluctantly let your grip on the sofa loosen. You glance at teen who sat down in the far corner on one of Agatha's chairs. "Okay... This is fine.... Right, Minerva?" You twitched and looked at him. Fine? This was far from fine!?

A piercing glare came from you as you met Teen's fearful blue eyes. Oblivious to the smoke coming down the chimney hissing Agatha's name. "Why didn't she tell me that the bloody Salem Sev-!" A short scream left yourself and Teen as a crooked arm burst through the window. Teen jumped out of the chair and ran to your side. Grabbing your arm for some sort of protection. The room began to shake and Teen yelled at you. Begging you to do something to protect you both. "I can't.." You hissed as your fingers flexed. reaching for the slightest bit of power that would be of some use. Just then, a figure appeared behind you. Hissing through it's mask and dark robs. Bolting downstairs, Teen screamed Agatha's name. Leaving you to follow.

Once in the basement, you let Teen take the lead. Watching as he scurried down the road's conjured stairs. The screeches coming from the Salam Seven were deafening. The other witches wasted no time in following Teen. Lingering behind to help Agatha with the doors, you stared wide eyed as a member of the Seven climbed halfway down the stairs on all fours. It looked painful. Like she had broken all the bones in her body to get to that position. She screeched like a harpy and you panicked.  Helping Agatha in closing the heavy doors behind you in a faster pace. Yelping, you wrapped your arms around Agatha in fear as the door was being banged upon. Breathing heavily, Agatha wrapped a single arm around you as she tried to guard her own face. Then... Their was silence. 

Hesitantly, You both looked up. Where the door had once been, there was just rock. Raising her hand to touch it, Agatha traced over the rock. Almost as if she couldn't believe it. For a moment, you lingered in the familiar embrace of the older witch then immediately pulled back once you recovered your wits. Clearing your throat, You brushed off your clothing. "You could have told me." Agatha smirked at your words despite the panic of it all still clear in her face. As you walked down the stairs, you kept your hand against the wall. Agatha close on your heel. A soft gasp left your lips when you noticed the scenery all around you. The woodland was incredible. The glowing from the vines caught your eyes the most.  Your eye scanned the scenery as you cautiously followed Agatha's movements towards the group. A small smile of disbelief left your lips as you looked a head. "It's... beautiful..." You whispered. Agatha bent down and removed her shoes. You followed the movement. You knew the rules.

"I never doubted us for a second." Agatha smiled. And so it began.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Thank you so much for reading this chapter! I really hope you guys like it so far and I really cannot wait to get into this one.

I would like to point out that I'm dyslexic so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

Please let me know what you think! I'm always reading the comments and looking for your thoughts and taking them into account. Also any requests for one shots will be noted!

Lot's of love and I hope to see you in the next chapter!