#must peruse immediately

[gay-dorito-dust]

hellooo, your writing is amazing so far i love it 🫶🏼

Could you do one for Hobie x fem reader, where the reader is friends with SpiderPunk AND Hobie. But she doesn’t know they’re the same person. And one day lovergirl rants about her fat ah crush on Hobie to him??

First off, thank you for enjoining my writing, I try my best with what working brain cells I have left 🤣

Ooh I love this idea very much! But I might make it a two parter cuz I defiantly went off request…oops…

Part 2

You were just minding your business, chilling on the roof top of an abandoned apartment complex, mind a million miles elsewhere on a certain somebody when a flash of red and blue caught your eye and before you knew it; you company of one had became a company of two.

‘Heya Spidey, how are things?’ You greeted.

He shrugs, ‘the usual but what about you lil missis,’ he playfully nudges you, ‘head so far off into the clouds I’m actually feeling a little neglected over here.’ You laughed, shoving him away by his arm. ‘Oh come off it, will you? I just been thinking about this guy I’ve liked for a while now.’ You admitted and Hobie’s interest was immediately peaked.

For as long as he knew you, Hobie could barely remember the last time you had ever admitted to him in fancying someone, besides from a couple of incidences from way back that ended up backfiring; but other then that, you kinda made it a point not to talk about it, maybe in due to him thinking that whoever you did fancy at the time weren’t worth the effort you’d give had you perused them. You had often called him overprotective whenever you tell him about your crush of the week but Hobie would defend himself by saying he was merely looking out for you and didn’t want you getting hurt by some douchebag.

‘You don’t have to defend me from everything Hobie,’ you once told him as you were patching him up from beating the breaks off of your last crush because they were chatting shit about you behind your back, ‘whilst as sweet as it is but you can’t always be there to look out for me.’

‘Watch me.’ He replied, his view remaining completely unchanged. You sighed, knowing that once Hobie’s mind was made up, nothing you nor anyone else could do to change that. He was an akin to that of an immovable object when it came to his beliefs and views and it was amongst the many things you adored and admired about him most.

‘Oh yeah? And who’s the lucky guy?’ He asked casually leaning back on his arms, watching as you brought your knees close to your chest before resting your chin upon them as your eyes gaze out at nothing in particular; something Hobie noticed you often do when you were particularly in your feelings and needed something to hold onto and ground yourself before you became adrift in your own sea of emotions. It was cute to see you tucked in on yourself so tightly that he couldn’t be more thankful for the fact that you couldn’t see how dopey he must’ve looked beneath his mask.

‘Hobie. Hobie Brown.’

He blinked twice, nah, he must’ve heard that wrong, surely, his hearing must be going all scewiff.

‘Hobie Brown.’ He said his own name as though it was the first time he was ever saying it. Upon seeing the way your shoulders drop and your body becoming at ease upon hearing his name, along with the way you smiled gently and how your eyes seemed to beam with newfound light which all had only helped In affirming to Hobie that he did indeed hear you the first time. ‘What is it about the guy that’s got you all up in knots?’ He asked, trying to act as though you didn’t just indirectly admitted that you’ve got a crush on him to him.

‘Where do I start.’ You started, unable to fight against your own feelings that were swelling up within your chest when an image of Hobie appeared in the forefront of your mind, he was sat on your bed, eyes closed as he allowed himself to get lost within his guitar rifts, his calloused fingers expertly transitioned from chord to chord as it were muscle memory. ‘He’s just so cool and awesome and so forthright and opinionated in his views and beliefs that he’s not afraid to back down from a fight should it come down to it.’ You tell him with a sense of fondness in your voice.

Hobie was quick to notice how your hand fiddle with one of the many handmade pins he’s made you that you always paired up with any and every outfit you ever wore, even if they styles did clash but you didn’t seem to care; Whatever the reason for you reaching for the pins were, whether it’d be out of a need to feel out the closest thing you had in regards to him or it was just something you did out of habit, made Hobie warm within his chest that soon spread throughout his body. ‘Sounds like me and this Hobie guy are more alike then I originally thought.’

Your fingers stopped their fiddling and you suddenly looked at him as though you were just now realising something with the way your eyes bore into him, Hobie thought that you might’ve developed the ability to see through the mask that withheld his identity and into him, so much so that he couldn’t help but make a comment on it, ‘stare at me any harder sweetheart and your stare might burn right through my mask.’ You must’ve been deep into your thinking as you didn’t seem to have noticed that he had spoken at all and Hobie was starting to think that he might’ve been too relaxed with you as Spider-Man that you might have started to have it pieced together in your mind; after all you were smart, more so then what you give yourself credit for.

‘Now that you’ve mentioned it you and Hobie do share some of the same attributes and habits, I’m also pretty sure your similar height wise and even though your mask muffled your voice, it fills me with a sense of familiarity that it’s hard for me to put a finger on.’ You said as you leaned closer to him until you were partially merely a breath away from each other. Hobie didn’t know he was holding in a breath until you shrugged ‘but I could just be grasping at a straws, so I won’t dwell on it as much.’ and moved away from him back to your previous position.

As much as he would’ve loved to have you figure out his identity on your own terms. Hobie would prefer it best if he were the one to reveal himself to you but the moments where he wanted to never felt right and he didn’t want to you in danger by doing so, but he knew that there’d come a time where he would be greeted with a choice in wether to tell you the truth as to who he was or continue living like he has currently and potentially loose your trust because of his lack of transparency; Hobie couldn’t bear to think of loosing your trust but just as he has always done since becoming your friend, he was merely looking out for you and for your safety as they were always his top priorities.

[pucksandpower]

Under the Influence

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc knows three things (1) wisdom teeth have nothing to do with being wise (2) his face looks like a chipmunk and (3) he really really really loves his girlfriend

Warnings: mention of minor medical procedure

You wake up to the sound of your phone buzzing on the nightstand. Bleary eyed, you reach for it and squint at the screen. 37 missed calls and too many texts to count, all from Charles.

It’s the big day — your boyfriend is finally getting his wisdom teeth removed this morning. You had wanted to go with him to the oral surgeon but Charles insisted he would be fine on his own.

Clearly, that was not the case.

The phone starts vibrating again and you swipe to answer. Before you can even say hello, Charles’ slurred voice comes through the speaker. “Ma choupinette! I misssss you!” He draws out the last word for several seconds. You stifle a laugh at how loopy he sounds from the painkillers.

“Hi, my love. How are you feeling?” You ask gently.

You hear some shuffling on his end of the line.

“I feel ... so good! I can’t feel my face though. Is it still there?” More shuffling noises. “Yep, still here! Wow, my cheeks are soooo big and fluffy now!” He descends into a fit of giggles.

You grin and shake your head. Your poor Charles is definitely still under the influence of the drugs. “I’m glad you’re not in any pain. Are you home already?”

“Yep! Safe and sound in my bed. But it’s so lonely without you here. You should come over and cuddle me!” His words come out muffled, no doubt because his mouth is still numb.

You glance at the clock — it’s still relatively early in the morning. “I would love to but I have a few things to take care of first. I’ll come by this afternoon to check on you though, okay?”

Charles lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fiiiiiine. Hey, did you know you’re the most beautiful girl in the whole world? And you’re so nice too! I’m the luckiest ...” He trails off into incomprehensible mumbling.

You have to press your hand to your mouth to hold in your laughter. Anesthetized Charles is even more adorable than regular Charles. “Thank you, my love. You’re very kind. Now get some rest, I’ll see you soon.”

“Okayyyy, bye bye gorgeous!” Charles singsongs before hanging up. Still chuckling, you set your phone down to start getting ready for the day. Your productivity is short lived however, as your phone immediately starts buzzing again.

Charles is calling you back.

With a mix of amusement and exasperation, you answer the call. Before you can ask what’s wrong, Charles’ cheerful voice exclaims, “I forgot to tell you I love you!”

You can’t help but laugh out loud this time. “I love you too, Charles.”

“Yay!” He cheers. In the background, you hear a woman’s voice telling Charles to stay in bed and get some rest. It must be his mother looking after him. Thank goodness for her help today.

You talk Charles into hanging up and leaving you be for now. As entertaining as loopy Charles is, you do need to run some errands. You eventually make it out the door and head into town. While perusing the aisles of the grocery store, your phone buzzes again. Expecting it to be Charles, you don’t even look at the screen before answering with an amused, “Yes, my love?”

Instead of your boyfriend’s sleepy voice, you hear numerous screams and squeals on the other end. Before you can ask what’s happening, the chaos turns into a bunch of people chanting “Say it again! Say it again! Say it again!”

Your stomach drops. You pull the phone away to look at the screen. Sure enough, Charles is broadcasting on Instagram Live and waving at an alarmingly large crowd of fans gathered below his apartment. Dreading what you’re about to witness, you bring the phone back to your ear. The chanting continues until Charles finally obliges.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I love you sooooo much! You’re the bestest, most bootiful, charming girl in the whole universe and I love you more than racing!” His confession is met with deafening squeals from his adoring devotees. You stand frozen in the cheese aisle, one hand clutching your grocery basket, cheeks flaming red. This is not exactly how you hoped your relationship would go public.

Charles is still slurring sluggishly into the phone, rambling on about how perfect and wonderful you are. You try to get a word in edgewise to stop him but his fans keep egging him on.

“Charles, honey, maybe you should get off Live and rest ...” you attempt feebly.

He gasps dramatically. “Wait, are you my girlfriend? Y/N? Is that you?”

You sigh, resigned to your fate. “Yes Charles, it’s me.”

The screams somehow increase in volume at this admission. Charles laughs with delight. “Guys, this is my girlfriend! Isn’t she the coolest? I’m the luckiest guy ever!”

Despite your embarrassment, you can’t help but melt a little at his ear-to-ear grin and heart eyes on the screen. He looks utterly smitten, even in his disoriented, post-op state. His fans seem to be eating it up too, flooding the comments with things like “My life won’t be complete until someone looks at me the way that Charles looks at Y/N” and “Charles is boyfriend of the year!”

You spend the next 15 minutes gently trying to persuade Charles to end the livestream and rest to no avail. He is having far too much fun gushing about you and interacting with his followers. You field a few questions from curious fans, keeping your answers light to avoid revealing too much. It’s clear they are enthralled by this lovestruck version of the normally private Ferrari driver.

Finally, after Charles has told the story of your first date no less than five times, his mother comes to your rescue. She appears on camera and tenderly tells Charles the “show” is over and he needs to sleep. He pouts adorably but allows her to tuck him back into bed and take away his phone. Just before the Live ends, he blows a loopy kiss to the camera and says “Love you, mon chouchou!” The fans go wild in the chat before the feed cuts out.

You slump against your shopping cart in relief. Your phone is already flooded with texts from friends and family who saw the Instagram fiasco. You shoot off some quick reassurances that you’re both fine and it was just the medication talking. Bagging the rest of your abandoned groceries, you check out as fast as possible. There’s somewhere you need to be right now.

Twenty minutes later you’re knocking on the door of Charles’ apartment. His mother opens it with an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry about earlier dear, the anesthesia made him a bit out of it as I’m sure you noticed.”

Charles perks up when you enter his bedroom. “You came!” He mumbles happily, making grabby hands at you. You settle onto the bed next to him and he immediately nuzzles into you like an affectionate kitten. His mother slips out to give you two some privacy.

You run your fingers soothingly through his hair. “How are you feeling now, my love?”

“Mmm ... sleepy. And really happy you’re here." He smiles dopily up at you. “Did I do something silly earlier? I don’t really remember.”

You debate downplaying it but figure he’ll find out eventually when the internet explodes. “You may have repeatedly declared your undying love for me on an Instagram Live ...” you say sheepishly.

Charles’ eyes go wide. “No way, really? Wow ...” He blinks slowly, processing this new information. A sly grin spreads across his swollen face. “Well it’s true. I meant every word.”

You kiss his forehead tenderly. “I know you did. Now get some more rest, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Charles looks up at you adoringly. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you more,” you boop him on the nose.

He giggles. “No way. I love you more-er.”

“Impossible. I love you most,” you insist.

“Nuh-uh,” Charles protests. “I love you most-est.”

You laugh at his stubborn persistence. “Alright, you win. Now close your eyes.”

Charles snuggles impossibly closer into your side and soon his breathing evens out as he drifts back to sleep. You brush a few curls off his forehead and whisper “I love you most-est-est.”

You make sure the blankets are wrapped securely around him and shake your head affectionately at your adorable, clueless boyfriend. Today certainly didn’t go as expected but you wouldn’t trade your Charles for anything in the world.

[waughymommy]

MOMMY KNOWS BEST

Chapter 5

            They pulled into a McDonalds and Rebecca opened Brian’s door. He had successfully finished his second juice of the morning. She smiled as she unbuckled him. She unclipped his pacifier and stuffed it into her purse. “I will give you a break since we are out in public,” Rebecca whispered. “But remember, if you have to go potty, you tell mommy.” She grabbed his hand and led him inside. At the counter, Brian started to make his order, but Rebecca stopped him before he could get two words out. She shot him a look that let him know mommy was in charge. “Good morning. He will have a sausage biscuit and an apple juice. I’ll have a bacon, egg and cheese with a large black coffee. Thank you,” Rebecca said confidently, knowing that the cashier was giving the couple strange looks.

            Rebecca grabbed their tray and they made their way to a table. Brian started to complain, “Why can’t I have a coffee?”

            Without missing a beat, Rebecca answered, “Coffee isn’t for babies.” Disappointed, Brian went to grab his breakfast, but she slapped his hand, “Let mommy do that.” She opened the rapper and began cutting the sandwich into bite size pieces. She opened his juice, but reminded him to be super careful since she left his sippy cup in the car. “Now eat up sweetheart.”

            Brian kept his head down, certain that every person in the restaurant was staring at him, but the truth was every went about their own business. The two ate in relative quiet. He finished his juice. “My baby must have liked his food, you finished it so fast. Mommy is almost done.” Brian cringed and his eyes scanned the restaurant, praying that no one could hear her. “Alright sweetie. Before we leave, do you need to go potty?”

            Brian was mortified, “NO. Can we just go please?”

            “Relax cutie,” Rebecca was thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.

They walked to the car and once again she buckled him in. She pulled his pacifier back out, “Be good for me and suck on your binky. We will be at the store in just a few minutes.”

            They arrived at a department store, “Mommy wants to buy some clothes. If baby is on his best behavior, maybe you will get a treat.” As they walked inside, Brian realized that he still had is pacifier in his mouth and quickly shoved it into his pocket. Rebecca pretended to not notice, but it just reinforced that Brian was never going to let himself be little on his own. The two walked inside and found the women’s clothing section. Brian had always been a patient husband and bought whatever her heart desired. He had endured countless shopping trips, but this was different. With every step he took, he could feel the material of his pullup. He felt paranoid that everyone in the store knew his secret. He just stood behind his mommy as she perused the racks. She made sure to take her precious time.

            She picked item after item to try on. Brian squirmed knowing that this was going to take awhile. Every minute felt like an eternity. He just stood outside the stall as she tried on different outfits. He was unsettled and bored all at the same time. He just wanted to get out of there. But then he noticed an ache in his bladder. No way in hell was he going to ask her to take him to the bathroom. He would just wait till they got home where he would hopefully be able to slip away and use the bathroom on his own. With every passing moment, his need for the bathroom grew more and more intense. Rebecca opened up the stall to model a new outfit, “What do you think sweetheart?” She immediately recognized the look on his face. “Brian, baby, do you need to go pee-pee. Mommy can take you. All you need to do is tell me.”

            “No, Im fine,” Brian responded hoping that she believed him.

            “Ok baby. I’ve got a few more things to try on,” as she walked back into the stall. Brian took a deep breath, desperately trying to will away his need to pee. He crossed his legs hoping to relieve some pressure.

            “Are you almost done,” Brian asked in a whiney tone.

            “Not quite sweetheart, be patient for mommy just a little bit longer,” Rebecca said from behind the stall door.

            Brian tried to take his mind off of his predicament. He tried looking through the racks, but his mind kept racing back to the fact that his wife of nearly ten years was turning him into a baby. He had always fantasized about it, but it was always just that: a dream. This was real life and it terrified him. How could he give up control? He needed to be the provider so that his wife didn’t have to be. She had always been so sweet and supportive of him. The least he could do was work hard so she didn’t have to. He could still remember the day he saw her. He was absolutely smitten. He saw her in a coffee shop on his way to work. Her wavy brown hair flowed over her shoulders. Although she sported a hoodie and jeans, he could tell she was curvaceous. Something about her drew him in like a moth to a flame. Brian was never one to openly flirt with women. He was always a bit shy and reserved. But with her, he had to try. He plucked up his courage and walked up to her table, “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Brian and I couldn’t help but notice you. I don’t normally do this, but would you grab coffee with sometime.”

            Rebecca looked up at the dapper man standing before her. She flashed him a smile. She could sense the shyness of him which conveyed a genuineness about him. He was tall and fairly fit. Why not, he seems harmless.

            “I would love to. How about tomorrow at noon?”, she asked. He was thrilled, over the moon happy. That moment of bliss Brian daydreamed about was soon shattered by a sound that jerked him back. It sounded as if someone was peeing. He was confused, until the warmth spread across his crotch. The daydream had broken his concentration and he was flooding his pullup.

            “Ok, I am all done baby boy…Brian are you ok?” Rebecca asked as she exited the stall. She saw the look of total panic on his face and a growing wet patch on his pants. His pullup couldn’t handle it and pee dribbled down his legs. Brian burst into tears. In that moment all he wanted was mommy. Rebecca flung into mommy mode. She set aside her clothing and went to comfort her baby boy. “Why didn’t you tell mommy you needed to pee-pee? I guess you aren’t ready for pull ups? Where is your paci baby?” she asked.

            Brian could only point to his pocket. She reached into his pocket and then nestled it between his lips. “Come on baby, lets get you home.” Rebecca grabbed his hand and led him out into the parking lot. Every patron in the store just witnessed a grown man with a pacifier and wet pants, be led like an overgrown toddler out of the store. But Brian was too upset to notice. They reached the car. “Brian before you get in, we need to take those pants off,” Rebecca said.

            Brian fearfully scanned the parking lot to see if other people were watching, “But but people might see me.”

            “Brian I can’t put you in the car with soaking wet pants,” she said forcefully. She unbuttoned his pants and starting pulling his pants down to his ankles. “I need you to step out baby. Mommy packed another pullup, but she didn’t bring any pants.” She ripped open the sides of the pullup, leaving his bare bottom exposed. He closed his eyes and just prayed no one could see him. He felt the cold touch of baby wipes around his crotch. “Ok baby step into this pullup. There, nice and dry. Hop in the car for me sweetheart.” She leaned in and buckled him up. She then kissed the top of his head, “Everything is ok sweetheart. You were so brave while mommy changed you. I promise, mommy will never get upset at you for having accidents. Lets get you home.”

[respectthepetty]

I am a MosBank Truther!

I do not hate all fan service. I think it's good to see men casually touch each other in public AND get paid to do it. My favorite pairs for fan service are MaxTul, who WILL return to me one day; YinWar, who understand the "Business Gay Performance" concept; JoongDunk, who are my GMMTV fighters; and MosBank. But unlike all of these other 200 branded pairs running around in BL Land, I actually think MosBank are a real couple, and I truly believe that they are already married. *looking you directly in your eyes* I'm serious. And I have thirty images from their recent appearance on the Har Tum Show to prove it.

But first, if you are not familiar with this show, Eclair is the host and she invites guests over to cook while she shit talks, and babygirl is quick. Jes and Bible from 4 Minutes were recently on, and while Jes matched Eclair's energy as this was his second appearance on the show, Bible was lost in the sauce, which only made their appearance even more delightful. And the reason is because homegirl casually drops sex jokes and snappy quips into the conversation, so guests must be on their toes to keep up.

AND MOSBANK CAME PREPARED!

Bank and Mos already know Eclair. Bank knows her from college, and Mos knows her from mutual friends *cough* Bank *cough* so they got down to business quick, and by business, I mean dick jokes. They are making deep-fried shrimp sushi, so Bank immediately holds the cucumber to size it up, and Eclair jumps into Bank's blowjob skills after briefly discussing how many shrimp are in the meal. +2 for talking about oral sex five minutes in.

This prompts Bank to sing "Part of Your World" from The Little Mermaid (in English) because it ties into the discussion of the ingredients needed for the meal (shrimp, seaweed, salmon) and blowjobs. No points given because even though Bank can sing, Ariel doesn't deserve to take strays about blowjobs.

Mos discloses that Bank's family owns a durian farm, so the queer movie of the moment The Paradise of Thorns gets mentioned, but Bank throws in his critique that they are more like The Paradise of Scorns. +2 for Bank's wittiness and Mos' sensible chuckle

Then Bank reveals that he is the one who scouted Mos for Star Hunter because he was thirsting over Mos' pictures on social media. +4 because Bank . . . same. I, too, would slide into Mos' DMs after perusing his socials.

As the conversation continues, both men confess that they hated school, but Bank is the smarter one on paper ONLY because he knew he wanted to be an actor and didn't want to appear dumb, so he got tutoring to get rid of his country accent and up his grades, while Mos only got his grades up because his mom sent him to an all-boys school in Bangkok 💀 Eclair is surprised because she thinks Bank plays up the "dumb-blonde" persona, and they joke that's a good thing because he can get away with it. +6 for Mos and his all-boy school

And then we get into the domesticity! Mos and Bank have randomly mentioned they live together throughout the years, so Eclair starts asking questions about their home life. Mos likes to do the chores. Bank likes to shop.

Eclair thinks Bank would feel guilty for not helping Mos with the chores, but both men correct her that Mos likes doing these things, and if Mos was her boyfriend, he'd gladly do it for her too. +10 because Bank does not cook nor does he clean, but he got that ring!

Because Mos seems too perfect to be true, Bank throws him under the bus and admits it bothers him that Mos doesn't say he loves people or misses them NOT EVEN HIS PARENTS OR FAMILY! -2 only because Bank brings this up every year in their Valentine's Day videos, and Mos still is tight-lipped.

But he quickly recovers because he says Mos isn't a man of too many words and actually shows his love through actions, like buying him a Celine bag and other stuff that he cannot mention even though Eclair pressures him to share. No points given

Eclair asks if either one of them gets upset easily, but specifically targets Bank since he is known for having an attitude in their travel videos when he is hungry or tired. +2 to Eclair for being shady

Once they sit down to enjoy the meal that Mos has basically single-handedly made for them, the conversation gets sad when Bank mentions he just wants a good life for his parents and how he misses his grandma, who was his biggest supporter but died during the pandemic so he didn't get to see her before she passed.

It's a heavy moment, but Eclair spins it and asks Mos if he has any sad tales to tell, to which Bank immediately answers that Mos' family is nothing but happy vibes and good times. +1 for the look exchanged between Bank and Eclair because people who have happy families make us all a little sick.

Eclair latches on to the fact that Bank answered the question about Mos' family, and Mos casually responds that Bank would know because he has met his family, several times, since he goes home with Mos, each time. +4 because this is the domesticity that has me convinced they are already married since they are holding hands under the table.

From the way Mos is talking, it's clear the boys stay AT his parents' house when they visit, so Eclair asks if Mos' mom ever hears them.

Mos, in a serious voice, instantly replies that they are quiet.

Bank bursts into laughter, but Eclair isn't done and wants to know what quiet things are done quietly, so Mos offers the only acceptable answer - "Whatever Bank wants" +100 points for Mos being perfect

The conversation gets back to the original point of Bank visiting Mos' family and the guys talk about the first time Bank went home with Mos. The aunties were aflutter when they saw Bank with Mos and because Mos comes from a small community, the entire village practically knew before they even got to the house.

They even recreate the aunties on the street breaking their necks to get a glimpse of Mos' rich boy. +3 for the way the boys deliver it

When they were walking the streets or at the market, they knew people were talking about them (out of curiosity), but whenever Mos or Bank would acknowledge them, the aunties would scatter. +1 for knowing that small town talk is not a negative thing but a way of sharing news

Everywhere they went, people would already know who Bank was because the chisme was running rampant! +2 because the boys are telling the hell out of this story and they are telling it TOGETHER, like both are telling it at the same time. It's glorious!

And since we understand that they were staying AT the parents' house, it seems as if they were also staying in the same room since Grandpa came to collect them once aunties started standing outside of the house wanting to take pictures with them. +2 since Mos is thrilled that Bank was so popular with his people

After the story, Eclair puts on her business cap and opens the door for the guys to talk about their various projects and socials, but the lady is a professional who can turn anything into a sex joke.

MosBank have a YouTube channel called Mong Biew which is a play on their names, but Eclair asks if it's a play on "Bong Biew" which apparently means tilted, and at first I thought she was making a straight/gay joke, but nope! It's a dick joke because Mos proudly declares that it's straight!

And I'm giving Mos another +100 points because this kid gets it! I thought Bank was going to easily steal the show, while Mos was busy cooking, but Mos is just as quick and snappy with his comebacks. He isn't just a Instagram thirst trap! The boy's got moxie!

Because this is still business, the guys give their product placement spiel for an anti-bloat mix, Air-X, and Eclair quickly turns capitalism on its head when she gets Bank to admit he farted on set during one of his romantic scenes with Mos. +4 points to Eclair for making a product placement hilarious and getting the chisme!

And the show wraps up with Eclair giving Air-X another spotlight as she states it's the second item Bank would pack for a trip AFTER HE PACKS CONDOMS!

2000 POINTS TO MY FAVORITE MARRIED COUPLE because we all win when the aunties approve of the boyfriend and Eclair can get a good dick joke or ten out of it!

[imaprettygirl]

A drop of ink, a blot spread across time

(Vintage au)

Plot summary: It was 1950s when pen pals were popular and almost everyone had one! You used to have a handful of them but the camaraderie between you and them faded as you got older. One day, you found a newspaper on your late great-grandpa's shelves in his bedroom. Excitedly, you flipped the papers to get to a specific page and bingo! There was a section for the addresses of people who are looking for a pen-friend much like yourself. After randomly choosing, you sent out your first letter and he replied back! However, you noticed something weird in the photo he sent...

Crds to @drinkthesky for the divider!

Men I deem fit: Alhaitham, Albedo, Imbibitor Lunae/Dan Heng, Dr Ratio, Diluc, Zhongli, Venti, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Sunday.

(Fck alphabetical order, I can't do that sh*t)

The amber glow of the afternoon sun bathed the room as the open windows situated at the opposite of the door allowed sunlight streams to enter the room as its panes quivered in hushed symphony due to the beckoning of the hot air. If you moved closer to the windows, you could see dust particles illuminated by the natural light. Even after the passing of your great-grandfather, the bookish scent of his cologne still lingers in his bedroom along with his possessions which were either coated with a thin layer of dust or covered with a big white cloth.

The wooden floor creaked beneath you as you walked towards his bookshelves in hopes of finding pieces of classical literature and maybe learn a thing or two from it. You delicately traced your index finger through the long vertical rows of books, leaving a trail of dust on the pads of your digit. As you peruse through countless novels only to be unsatisfied until you saw a newspaper at the edge of the shelf, untouched by the dust that plagues the rest.

'How strange...' you thought to yourself as you rubbed your thumb and index finger against the surface of the paper to determine its texture: it was sandy and rough, definitely ancient but the format was similar to the ones your dad reads in the morning so it must be a freshly produced newspaper, albeit printed in a different quality of paper.

Or so you thought...

The newspapers in your hands gave you a glimmer of hope; it was an opportunity to find a pen friend! You used to have a few ones but stopped writing to them either because they used too much colloquial words or they had at least twenty spelling mistakes in each sentence which gave you a migraine whilst trying to make out if your correspondent was writing in a foreign language or not. But this time, maybe you could hit the jackpot and find an actually nice pen-pal. Excitedly, you flipped through the papers and stopped at the specific page which had a list of names along with their addresses under the bold heading:

'Pen-friends! Make new friends around the world!'

Your eyes scanned across the list of names, allowing your intuition to guess the personality of that stranger based on their names alone. But then, a specific name caught your eye- it was uncommon which was the main reason it stood out from the rest of the names which probably were taken from 'Top 10 best names for children of this year'. You took a closer look of the address below that person's name and turned out, both of you lived in the same area! A surge of enthusiasm rippled throughout your body and immediately tucked the newspaper into the inside pocket of your coat.

~~~~~♡~~~~~♡~~~~~♡~~~~~

The curtains of your living room slowly opened as you peeked your head out and pressed your face against the glass. A day had passed after you had sent your very first letter and heck, you even went a mile far by sending a photograph of your two cats to make a memorable first impression. Then- just like you had anticipated- the postman on his bike suddenly came into view and halted his vehicle by your mail-box and placed a letter inside. You clutched the folds of the curtains unable to contain the happiness blossoming inside you. As soon as the postman disappeared out of your eyesight, you rushed outside to take the letter out of the mailbox. The first thing that greeted your eyes was the immaculate handwriting and the scent emitted from the paper.

'How sweet of him...' you thought as you continued reading the letter in your mind. The paragraphs were neatly organized and made of outdated vocabulary that you wouldn't understand had you not taken an interest in classic literature. You could tell this man practiced utmost eloquence just by his letter alone. Overall, he wrote a few things about himself and asked you about your hobbies, what you like and blablabla.

But then, something struck within you concerning with the photograph he sent and notes written behind it:

"The construction of the mall is making my ears bleed. I cannot stand the constant sounds of the drills and other sounds coming from it. I daresay, you must be experiencing the same disturbance as we are only one street apart from each other. Perhaps we should plan to meet up after the mall opens. What do you think of it?"

The more you stared at the photograph and the note, the more confused you became. The picture showed the mall with the same as the one down the street but it was still in construction according to the photo. 'Huh?' A frown stretched across your face. That specific mall had been going on more nearly a century now to the point that the community had been urging the government to shut it down in order to build a more innovative one. Didn't it finish construction like a hundred years ago? But his photo told a whole new different story.

Suspicions rose inside of you as a spiral of questions revolved around your head- you found it difficult to process it. Not missing a beat, you hurried to your room to find that newspaper you took from your late great-grandfather's shelf. You mumbled in frustration when you couldn't find it; you swore you left it either on the desk or on the bed. Finally, you found it under the bed and oh my...

The letter was published a century back in time which meant that...

"T-The man I just sent a letter...was from the past...." The newspaper dropped from your hands. Your letter had ripped its way out of the fabric of time and went into the mailbox of a man who lived in the same area as you but different time period. He was in the past, you were in the future.

Still, a part of you felt curious about the interaction between two people of different dimensions. So you decided to reply back to his letter. What could go wrong...right?

To people who are more knowledgeable in time travel or parallel universes, pls don't attack me, I know what I wrote may or may not make sense for some of you but pls don't mind me 😭😭😭

And also, not proofread because I wrote this around midnight and I'm literally on the verge of dozing off- (Ik I have such healthy sleep cycles and I have to wake up at 6 am yayyy!! Sleep-deprived-students-core😘🙆🤗)

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Get Them For You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: Rafe never hesitates to get Y/N what she wants.

A/N: Inspired by this post.

Masterlist

Even though Y/N has told Rafe countless times, he does the best he can to be a provider for her, buying her food, clothes, books, scientific equipment he doesn’t understand what it does and anything else he can think of. He will literally do everything in his power to get her the whole world. They are at the mall shopping for a new leather jacket for him. They’ve been there for a few hours, taking their time to peruse around the stores. Her stomach begins to cry out its need for sustenance. As they continue to the next store, a delicious buttery and salty smell enters the air. Her head turns in the direction of where this sensory stimulus is coming from. The small glance toward Auntie Anne’s Pretzels does not go unnoticed by her boyfriend. He pauses immediately, yet she continues to walk, so he loops his arm through her to pull her back to his side. “What’s wrong?” she questions with a tilt of her head. He points toward the pretzel store, “I’m hungry. Why don’t we get a snack? A cheese one, right?” “You know me so well,” she beams. He chuckles and presses his lips against her temple. He leads her toward the register and orders their salty snack. 

———

It is no secret that Y/N is an avid reader. Her TBR list is in the hundreds and it continues to grow. Rafe’s mission is to make that list dwindle to zero, despite what Y/N might say. Sometimes, he’ll add books to that list by himself. The couple is hanging out in the library. She is studying and he is only there to keep her company. An hour into her studying session he pulls her away from her textbooks and notes to take a break and eat a snack. Her eyes wander while she nibbles on the cheese and crackers he hands to her, landing on a book cover that catches her eyes. The pink-themed watercolour cover features a forest with a rope bridge. It’s beautiful and the title is quite simple. Unravel Me. Rafe sees her attention isn’t on him and follows the gaze to the novel in another person's hands. She moves her eyes back to him, but he still takes note of the title. After the snack, she goes back to studying and he focuses on his phone. He decides to search for the book and finds out it is a hockey romance series. It sounds right up Y/N’s alley, so he orders Topper to go to the store and buy her the full set.

———

The most outrageous example of Rafe being Rafe when it comes to buying Y/N things is when he orders expensive objects for her right on the spot. It is date night and he decides to take her to the new upscale bar that opened up off campus. He pulls her chair out for her, allowing her to hop onto the tall chair. While she tells him about her tests, her eyes are trained on something at the bar. She must really like whatever she is looking at because she stands from the chair and approaches a woman. Rafe is right behind her, resting his hand on the small of Y/N’s back. “Hey, sorry to bother you, but I really like your bag. Where did you get it?” she asks the redhead. The other woman grins and holds her bag up, “Thank you! It’s from Coach. I can’t remember what it’s called though. I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. You gave me enough to go off of. Thank you so much. Have a nice night,” Y/N bids goodbye to her. Throughout the whole interaction, Rafe’s attention is on his phone. They get back to their table and he holds up his screen to her. The Coach website is pulled up on Safari with a picture of a light tan bag that has a dragon on it. Boxed New Year Rogue 25 With Dragon is written above the picture along with the price of $1,090.

“This is the one you want, right?” he confirms. Her eyes widen at the price, “Yes, but I didn’t know it was that expensive. I like it, just not for that price.” He ignores her worries and goes back to typing on his phone. “Look at this one. I’m gonna get it for you too. I think it’s cute,” he tells her, sliding his phone across the table to her. She sees two items in his cart: the dragon purse and the heart bag in regenerative leather. The total amount before tax is $1,490, which is completely outrageous to her. She shakes her head, “You can’t buy these, Rafe. This is way too much.” “Come on, let me get them for you, Angel. You know money is no issue for me,” he pleads, giving her the best puppy eyes he can.

“It’s not an issue for me. What am I going to do with something so luxurious?”

“Look like an absolute queen while you flaunt it around. Show other men that I can provide for you. Hand it over to me while you put your lip gloss on, so you can mark your territory. You deserve this luxury and so many more, Angel.”

“This is really important to you. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, so… what do you say?”

“Fine. You can get them.”

A smirk craves itself onto his face and he puts in his credit card information to finalize the purchase. He shows her the shipping information, “It should be here by next week, Angel.” “Thank you, Rafe. I can’t wait to use them,” she shows her gratitude by giving him a kiss.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[sarabethsilver]

Sometimes (aka every single day) I think about Jess and Rory's very first, fateful meeting. This dude was gone from approximately 0.362 seconds in.

(whoops I'm in love)

He takes exactly one look at this extraordinary young woman:

And instantly decides that he's all in. The only thing she's said is, "Hi, I'm Rory." But this was more than enough to send Jess careening off the edge and into eternal love.

(perusing Rory's bookshelf for the perfect book to declare his eternal love)

And what does he select? HOWL. Forget Austen or Bronte or Shakespeare, all of which Rory definitely has on that shelf. This dude goes directly for love and sex and passion and longing.

But FIRST, let's try our luck at a straight-up, in the moment date:

(pretty please go on a date with me this instant)

Because really, if this works and he gets an hour alone with her? The charm-offensive can begin immediately. Obviously, our quintessential rule-follower doesn't bail on the bizarre Adult Dinner that was purportedly set up to welcome a teenager to town (???). But worry not! Jess has a backup plan in the form of the delightfully vulgar Howl, which he has already set aside on her desk.

(Side note: what on Earth did that boy write in her margins?!? I MUST KNOW. What thoughts did he add to "the final wish is love" and "the cock is holy" and "we're all golden sunflowers inside" ...??)

Anyway. Eventually this happens:

Keep in mind this was a chance run-in, which means that Jess has been carrying that book in his back pocket for days. Just waiting to randomly bump into her so he can declare his eternal love. No biggie.

Happy Valentine's Day, all!

[hihhasotherfixations]

Wedded - Dragon! John Price x Reader | Chapter 1

When you are mistaken by a dragon as his promised bride, you unexpectedly need to learn how to live with your new husband. After all, the dragon made a deal, and he wants his end of the bargain - you.

Current | Next Chapter

The results of the poll were clear. Dragon Price is first to come up and be written. This was also the only option who’s fic had multiple chapters sooo, woop woop! Hope you all enjoy :3

CW: f!reader, dragon Price, violence in future chapters

Word Count: 3028

Walking into the town, your eyes curiously looked around, an excitement blooming inside you – one you always found yourself in any time you got to a new part of the land, finding cities and villages you never knew existed.

This time, you’d made it to a village just south of the roaring mountains. A range that spanned the border of the land near the east. It was a relatively small village, and as you walked through to the marketplace, you immediately became aware of how close-knit the community was, as everyone seemed to know everyone.

Making you stick out like a sore thumb.

Still, your travels hadn’t gotten you this far if that was something that scared you off. And without further thought, you stepped up to one of the market brokers. The man was a botanist, obviously, selling herbs and wildflowers, your keen eyes curiously scanning around.

“Hello, madam!” The vendor perked up, giving you a once over, noting the large bag slung over your shoulder, as well as the leather-wrapped stick you were leaning on. “New to town?”

“Good morning.” You smiled politely. “Yes I am. It’s very nice.” You said, though as you looked around, it was evident that a scuffle had recently taken place. Broken wood and scorch marks riddling the buildings around.

“Can I help you find anything?” He asked, that typical salesman smile on his face.

Giving a small smile back, you shook your head. “No, I’m just looking for now.” You declined.

As you perused, you recognised most of the man’s wares. Within your own bag that was currently slung over your shoulder, you kept several exact specimens like the ones laid out before you.

After all, you’d been collecting them.

For the last three years, you’d been scouring the land, finding and testing herbs and wildflowers for their potencies and effects. What was once a hobby had become your life, with you abandoning your old one in the process. Yet not a day passed where you regretted your newfound freedom.

“Say, you seem very knowledgeable in this.” The vendor suddenly spoke up and you glanced at him, tilting your head in curiosity. Seeing that, the man explained. “Your eyes zero in on the rarer plants and skip over the common ones. Not many know them like I do.” He complimented.

“Oh, yes.” You smile. “I’m… well, a researcher. I’m writing a field guide on the plants of this continent and their effects.” You said, slight pride in your voice. Though it wasn’t a secret per se, saying it out loud was not something you often did. But giving the man’s profession, you figured it was worth a shot. “I’m looking for some rarer plants and I must ask, what is this one?” You questioned, pointing at a flower to the right. It had white, pointed petals that slowly turned blue the closer it got to the core, yellow spore marking the centre while the stem and leaves itself were green. Nothing like you’d ever seen before.

“That? Oh, that is a mountainscale lily.” He smiled, picking up the dried specimen. “Very rare. Found only in caves high up in the mountains.” As he said that, he turned and pointed to the looming mountain behind the village.

“I’ve never seen them before.” You mused, leaning in to get a better look.

“They’re native to this region. Only grow under very specific circumstances.” He explained and you nodded, curious.

“Is this in a place I could reach?” You questioned, making the vendor frown.

“I would not advise-“ “Ah! Hold on!” A woman suddenly interrupted, sliding in beside the merchant, her hand on his arm. The man looked a little startled, glancing at her in confusion, to which the woman nudged her head in your direction with an easy smile. “Look at the lady, she’s well equipped! Don’t be underestimating her now.” She teased, bumping her hip into his before squeezing his arm to get his attention and sending him a pointed stare, one you felt you shouldn’t be witnessing. At it, the man glanced from her to you – who was standing there confused – before grunting as he looked away from you, muttering under his breath.

Confused, you turned to the woman who turned to face you while smiling wide.

“Sorry about that. I couldn’t help but overhear.”

“That’s… okay.” You hummed, shifting your hiking stick to your other hand, a little put off by her sudden appearance. “So, am I correct in saying you think I could get to where the flowers grow?” You questioned, the woman seeming to light up.

“I am positive! In fact, I would like to ask to make a deal with you. Hire you, if you will.”

That was both intriguing and concerning at the same time. Anyone could take one glance at you and see you weren’t exactly a mercenary for hire.

“Darla, no-“ The man started, placing his hand on her shoulder, but the woman just shrugged it off.

“Hush now, I’m sure it will be no problem.” She smiled, keeping her eyes on you, to which the man grabbed her elbow, forcefully turning her to face him.

“Don’t. This is our problem. We must bear the consequences.” He said pointedly, but Darla scoffed and yanked her arm free.

“We have a perfectly capable young woman here.” She spoke, glaring at him.

“I’m sorry, what’s going on?” You asked, confused and before the man could say anything, Darla stepped in.

“These flowers. They have a healing capability. About a month ago, our village was raided and our supply stolen.” She spoke, a resentment sounding in her voice. “It was supposed to last us through the winter but now new flowers need to be plucked. The problem is that gathering them requires skill and knowledge. No one but my husband can do it, but he injured his leg during the raid and hasn’t been able to make the trip.” She said while gesturing to him.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear.” You frowned in sympathy, looking at the vendor who had a defeated look, sitting down on his stool behind his stall. When looking around at the village, the evidence of a scuffle was clear. And not a small one. Not only were there the ruins and scorch marks around you, some houses were even burned down on the outskirts – which you’d seen when coming into town.

“Listen.” The man spoke up, catching your attention again. “The mountains aren’t easy to traverse, especially with an injury. It’s not a safe road. Think about this.” He warned, looking at his plants, avoiding your eyes.

Your brows creased together in thought as you then looked at the woman. “So… what is it you want?”

Darla perked up, her eyes landing on you before turning pleading as she walked around the stall, grasping your hands and holding them up between you and her. “We will tell you how to find the flowers. And in return, I beg you to retrieve a satchel full of them for our village. We cannot survive winter without them.”

Blinking in surprise, you looked from her, down to the pressed flower laying on the wood of the stall. You’d never heard of a flower which had capabilities such as that. 

“I-“ You glanced up at her again. Her hand was holding yours tightly.

“You can take this one for free.” She then quickly spoke, grabbing the pressed flower and pushing it into your hand.

Frowning, you looked down at it, briefly studying the colours and make before sighing, looking at the vendor again, who was still looking down. While the thought of a flower having such potent capabilities was hard to believe - not without it having some sort of addicting feature – the opportunity to study it was too good to pass up. “Okay.”

At your simple word, Darla lit up, grinning wide, though it was almost scary as she then turned to her husband and hugged him. “We’re going to be alright!” Before you could say anything, she moved back over to you, gripping your shoulders. “You will save every young maiden in our village from a terrible and ill fate.”

Letting out a bit of a confused chuckle, you leaned back a bit. “Why, does the flower not affect men?”

At that, Darla cackled a laugh – a surprisingly pleasant sound.

“Come, let me give you a map and explain how to get there.” She smiled, placing her hand on your backpack, gently pushing you with her, leading you across the market.

And in the haste of her offering you a place to stay at her impressively lavish two-story house, food, a map into the mountains and all the instructions that came with it, you failed to realise that the herbal vendor never came to the house, nor that neither him or Darla wore wedding rings.

- - - -

Leaning on your stick, you paused at the edge of the trail, huffing and puffing.

Since the early hours of dawn you’d been walking, resting periodically to make sure you’d be fit to continue.

According to Darla, the hike to the nearest cave containing the wildflowers was ten hours – on top of the hour you’d already travelled by horse together with the woman.

She had been incredibly helpful, sticking close to you and repeatedly thanking you for being willing to do this. Hell, it almost felt like she was glued to your hip until the moment you reached the foot of the mountain, where she was all too eager to send you off on your way, taking the horses back home.

Not that you blamed her.

Walking over to the rocky face of the mountain, you leaned against it, staying away from the trail’s edge, not to keen to fall down it. Shifting down to sit, you pulled your backpack off your back, digging in to get your journal where you flicked to the most recent entry.

Opening the page, you carefully picked up the pressed mountainscale lily, turning it in your hand. Before parting ways with Darla, you’d asked her many questions about the flower’s properties. She’d seemed a little flustered, almost unwilling to talk about it.

Glancing down at your notes, you pulled out the charcoal pencil from the spine of your journal, drawing a line down from the drawing you made of the flower.

Hunching forward, you scribbled a single word before a loud thud suddenly echoed through the forest down below, making you snap your head up, looking over the sea of orange-leafed trees before you. Far in the distance, birds rose to the air, making you hum curiously.

Glancing back down at the journal, you placed the flower back between the pages before closing the book, getting back to your feet again, ready to pass the next few hours mulling over your new hypothesis, that one word echoing in your mind.

‘Addictive?’

- - - -

Pulling your coat tightly around yourself, you shivered, tying the strings directly under your chin. Even with the sun shining fully in the sky, the air was frigid – a cause of both the height you were walking at, as well as the nearing of winter.

You’d long since pulled out your woollen hat, keeping yourself as warm as possible, your hands feeling like ice.

Holding your map tight, your eyes glanced from the parchment and up the trail you were currently on. It was small, a goat’s path more than anything and one misstep would result in you plummeting down onto rocks far below.

Yet as you looked right, you couldn’t help but be in absolute awe by the view.

As far as your eyes could see, the forest stretched. Along the way, a wide river shimmered in the slowly setting sun, everything bathed in a gorgeous light, enhancing the golden leaves of the autumn trees. If you weren’t at threat of losing the light, you’d have sat down to draw it.

Looking back at the map, you breathed out, exhausted. Your feet hurt, every step making you question whether or not this was worth all the hassle. Yet as you grasped onto the brittle rock on your left and rounded the bend, you saw it.

A large opening sat in the side of the mountain, a plateau in front of it providing plenty of space. The cave opening alone must have been the size of nearly two houses beside each other.

And about ten meters in front of you, you saw it.

A mountainscale lily gently flowed back and forth in the breeze, the petals gently moving.

Firmly pushing off your stick, you began walking towards it, crouching beside the flower.

It was small, incomplete and evidently not growing in ideal circumstances, too exposed to the wind.

Leaving it where it was, you kept going. The cave sat about thirty meters ahead and your heart began thudding in excitement.

Every herb and wildflower you’d documented so far was one you either already knew, or had vaguely heard of. All of them were known, most likely researched, used in experiments until every purpose was exploited. But this one? You’d never heard of a flower like this. And the thought of you being the first to properly document it? It filled you with an eager excitement.

Reaching the cave, instantly you saw the lily’s on the edges of the opening, blooming in the dirt-like ground that littered the plateau you were standing on, the forest behind you and far below.

Taking off your backpack, you moved over the left, crouching by a cluster of the flowers. Digging into your pack, you pulled out your journal and knife, carefully starting to prod at and study the flower, carelessly scribbling anything of note down.

Your mind was only focused on a single thing, yet as you inspected the flower, you noted that even in its alive state, the colours were less bright than the pressed flower the vendor had given you. Even these flowers weren’t sufficiently growing.

“Is it the cave?” You mumbled to yourself, setting your items down and getting to your feet.

Slowly, you started to walk in through the massive opening, your body casting a tiny shadow in the large circle of light.

For a minute or so, you moved. Yet the further you went, the more you walked, a dread slowly started to settle in the pit of your stomach.

Something felt off.

Stalactites hung from the ceiling, ominous and casting shadows onto the top of the cavern.

The light from the entrance was pale, limited. And as you walked forward, you slowly got to the cap of it. Daylight reached into the cave in almost a halo. A safe circle of pale light, ending where you stood now, right at your feet.

Normally, you didn’t feel like this. Normally, you’d step into the shaded part of a cavern without trouble but in this moment? You couldn’t.

There was something about this place that wasn’t right. Unnatural.

…Warm.

The cave was warm.

It was subtle, not immediately noticeable until you focused on it, but still your eyes widened in realisation of that fact. Despite climbing high up, damn near into the mountains to get here. There was no frigid cold. The difference from the moderately chilly air outside and in here was noticeable. And it definitely didn’t come from the watery sun outside.

A breeze suddenly picked up, a gust of wind so fast you had to snap your hand up to hold onto your hat, your eyes closing on instinct as your clothes billowed and ruffled.

Clutching the strap of your bag with one hand and your hat with the other, you dared to peek an eye open. Yet as you did, your heart sunk, watching as the sun that had been shining on your back was blocked, a shadow sliding in and covering your body.

The gust of wind passed, your heartbeat thudding harshly in your chest as you could hear every breath you took, your eyes wide as you stared at the unnatural shadow currently cast over you. A shadow that shouldn’t be there. A shadow that wasn’t a second ago.

Slowly, as if a thousand weights hung on you, you turned your head around. And the clench of your jaw slackened as a terror fell over you.

Sitting there, sprawled  across the opening of the cave, hung a dragon.

With scales a deep green, its eyes were fixed on you, unblinking while it sat. Hanging on the rock, its massive form blocked out the sunlight, small slivers only escaping near the corners of the scaly creature, the light almost casting it in a halo. Or hellfire.

You’d never seen a dragon before, only heard stories of knights or travellers, regaling the terror and power they could wreak.

You didn’t dare blink or move, just stuck in a staring contest until for the first time, it made a noise as a billow of smoke escaped its maw, a rumble echoing through the cave as it shifted, muscle rippling and scales glistening in the light.

With a deliberate and slow movement, it flexed the joints of its wings, stretching them slightly and blocking out even that last bit of sunlight that was on your body, fully encasing you in its mighty shadow.

With barely anything else to do, you turned your body around to face it like your head was, and as if on cue, that made it move.

Slinking down from the large cave entrance, the dragon landed on the rocky ground, front paws thudding down before the rest of the body followed, moving towards you.

Terrified, you stumbled back, wanting to run, though your heel hooked behind the uneven ground of the cave, making you fall onto your back harshly.

With the wind knocked out of you, you’d barely opened your eyes before you found the dragon’s maw hanging right above you, an amusement dancing in the crinkle of its eyes.

“Please-“ You whispered, only for the dragon to not hear as it instead spoke.

“Finally made the decision to show up, did we? You’re four hours late.”

-

I’ll try to get the next chapter out as soon as I can! Please let me know what you thought and if there is interest for a tag list for future chappies ❤️

[elysiumania]

title: when the moon descends

pairing(s): jing yuan, reader

characters: jing yuan, reader, fu xuan, yanqing

word count: 4.4k

synopsis: in the midst of his daily routine, jing yuan finds solace and delight in the presence of a certain individual who never fails to brighten his morning.

As the first rays of the sun creep into his chambers like tendrils of light, Jing Yuan feels as if he's being beckoned by a siren's call to stay in the comfort of his bed. The weight of his responsibilities as the Luofu General bears down upon his chest, compelling him to evade the challenges of the forthcoming day. However, he understands that yielding to such temptation is not an option, for the affairs of the Xianzhou Luofu demands his undivided attention and his subordinates depend on him to steer them through the tumultuous waters. So, with great effort, Jing Yuan shakes off the heavy cloak of lethargy and begins his day.

Jing Yuan acknowledges that there have been instances in which he has entrusted some of his obligations to the Master Diviner, Fu Xuan. But he knows that he can't rely solely on her, for there are still other pressing matters that require his attention. Though discreetly. 

It's like a delicate balance, trying to delegate tasks to others while also shouldering his own share of responsibilities. Despite the weight that comes with it, Jing Yuan knows that it's all part of being a leader—the ability to juggle multiple tasks and make the tough decisions that can impact the lives of many.

Although Jing Yuan is tempted to stay in bed all day, the sheer amount of paperwork on his office desk is urging him to begin his day. It is imperative that he completes those towering documents as soon as possible, not only to free up his leisure time, but also because they contain crucial information that requires his attention. The requests and reports from various commissions must be addressed promptly by the General. 

Who knows, maybe amongst these papers lies something that will pique his interest and provide a welcome distraction from his monotonous routine.

Jing Yuan starts his day with a heavy heart, knowing that his responsibilities as a General would be demanding, but he continues to walk with a purpose. 

As he traverses the bustling streets of Luofu, people pay their respects to him, bowing in reverence to his position. His subordinates, with their eyes locked on their tasks, take a moment to acknowledge their General's presence and extend their greetings. The aura around him demands respect and deference, marking him as a man of great authority and responsibility.

To Jing Yuan, his routine was as steady as the flow of the river, never faltering or swaying. The daily tasks and responsibilities that came with his position were second nature to him, like a well-oiled machine that worked without a hitch. The only thing that could disrupt the serene pattern of his life was a crisis that threatened the peace and stability of Xianzhou Luofu. In such dire circumstances, Jing Yuan would act with urgency, convening a meeting of the commission heads to ensure the safety of the people he swore to protect.

As he enters his office, Jing Yuan's eyes are immediately drawn to the pile of papers resting atop his desk, a sight that never fails to elicit a deep sigh of weariness from the Xianzhou General. It is a task that he cannot avoid, no matter how much he wishes to do so, an inescapable responsibility that weighs heavily on the shoulders of the wise and valiant leader of Luofu. 

A defeated scoff escapes his lips as he trudges towards his desk, mentally preparing himself for the monotonous task that has become his daily routine.

Jing Yuan peruses through the stack of papers, carefully analyzing each document before signing off on the ones he approves of, he separates them into two piles–one for those that require immediate attention, and the other for those that need further work. 

As Jing Yuan's eyes dart back and forth across the pages, a sudden knock at his door jolts him out of his concentration like a bolt of lightning. And then, he hears the sound of a voice that is as soothing and sweet as honey, a voice that always makes his heart skip a beat with anticipation. In an instant, his eyes light up like stars in the sky, sparkling with excitement at the prospect of seeing the owner of that enchanting voice.

Because it is none other than his most favorite being. (Name).

Jing Yuan grants you permission to enter, his gaze fixated on the door as he waits for your arrival with the eagerness of a child anticipating their turn on the playground. When the door creaks open, his eyes are immediately drawn to your radiant face, despite the pile of documents clutched in your arms. The General pays no attention to the paperwork, his entire focus directed solely at the sight of your smile directed towards him. To him, nothing else holds as much importance as you, his beloved partner, who never fails to bring a smile to his face and ease his worries. 

"Good morning, General," you address with a courteous bow, paying respect to the esteemed leader of Luofu.

The General gazes at you with his customary smile, despite having previously expressed his desire for you to address him by name in private. Yet, you persist with your habit of addressing him with formality, even in the privacy of his office.

Jing Yuan comprehends your predicament fully. Your clandestine affair is something that must remain a secret from the rest of the Xianzhou, and given that you are under his command, he acknowledges the importance of maintaining a professional demeanor.

At first, Jing Yuan was puzzled as to why you wanted your relationship with him to be kept under wraps, but after learning that you were not yet prepared to reveal your relationship to the natives of Xianzhou Luofu, he acquiesces to your request. Your thoughts and emotions matter to him, and he respects your decision. He'll patiently wait for the day when you feel comfortable enough to share your romance with everyone.

Jing Yuan understands the gravity of the situation, and he doesn't want to put any undue pressure on you. He knows that if your relationship is made public, it will draw the attention of many, and it will become a hot topic of discussion amongst the citizens. 

Being the honorable and respectable General of Xianzhou Luofu, he is aware that his actions are under constant scrutiny, and any news of his personal life could easily become tomorrow's headline. 

Therefore, he doesn't want to risk ruining the comforting and peaceful company he already had with you. No.

Being with you brings Jing Yuan a sense of serenity that he seldom experiences amidst the chaos of his duties as a general. You are his sanctuary, a tranquil harbor where he can dock his restless heart. Listening to your voice and watching the subtle movements of your lips as you speak is akin to watching a mesmerizing dance. Your eyes, like two shining stars, holding his gaze in a trance, and he finds himself lost in the vastness of their beauty. In your company, he is content to forget the world and the worries that come with it.

Despite his reputation for being a quick dozer, Jing Yuan never wants to miss a moment of being with you and hearing about your day. He knows that being in your company is a rare and precious indulgence, like savoring a delectable treat that is too fleeting and too limited. 

Although he's constrained by the secrecy of your relationship, Jing Yuan remains hopeful for a time when he can freely spend his days with you without fear of being exposed. He yearns for the day when he can finally engage in all the activities he's been dreaming of without any reservations. He's optimistic that this day will come, and until then, he will cherish every moment he gets to spend with you in private, relishing the comfort and safety that your company provides.

The prospect of that day fills him with immense anticipation, and he longs for it to arrive.

“Here are the reports of the Sky-Faring commission, General.” You hand over the reports to Jing Yuan, not daring to meet his intense gaze. 

His amber eyes seem to penetrate through your very being, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. It's as if he's peering into the depths of your soul, examining every thought and emotion. You can't help but feel uneasy under his watchful stare. After all, it's Jing Yuan, the highly respected General of the Luofu Cloud Knights, and his imposing presence is impossible to ignore. Despite being his secret lover, you still feel conscious of your every move and appearance in his presence.

“(Name), come here,” Jing Yuan utters in a gentle tone, but the authoritative edge in his voice is unmistakable.

At the sound of Jing Yuan's voice, you are inexorably pulled towards him like a moth to a flame. The gentle curve of his lips and the tender warmth in his amber gaze resonate with you, enveloping you in a comforting cocoon of affection. It's almost as though he has woven a spell that ensnares your every movement, compelling you to draw near to him with a sense of captivation and awe. His commanding presence is both palpable and irresistible, and you find yourself drawn to him without any conscious effort.

You glide over to Jing Yuan, and it prompts him to swivel his body to face you. He's perched on his chair, and as he gazes up at you, you catch his amber eyes with your own. 

Upon locking gazes with you, Jing Yuan experiences a surge of emotions that swiftly courses through his being, evoking the rapid flutters of a hummingbird's wings in his chest. He finds himself captivated by the sight of you, who exudes an aura of luminosity and grace that enraptured his senses. Even in the absence of the sun's warmth, you shine like a celestial body, illuminating his world and imbuing it with a sense of wonder and admiration. As he continues to gaze upon you, his affection for you only grows stronger, as he is powerless to resist the alluring force of your magnetic pull.

In his subliminal state, he extends his hand to grasp your hands in his sizable ones, sensing the heat emanating from your palms, and he relishes the sensation of it.

In this very moment, as Jing Yuan finally takes hold of your hands, he begins to caress your knuckles with his thumbs in the most gentle and soothing way possible, treating them as if they were a delicate and fragile crystal that he is afraid of damaging. As he continues to rub, his fingers slide effortlessly in between yours, elegantly interlacing and entwining them together. The unexpected tenderness of his touch causes a warm blush to spread across your cheeks, taking you by surprise, yet you remain motionless, as if tamed by his presence. Although he can feel the faint tremble in your hands, he is grateful that you do not pull away, and he continues to hold onto you, cherishing this rare moment of intimacy.

As he tried to contain his amusement, a small, almost imperceptible chuckle escaped from Jing Yuan's lips, betraying his attempt at composure. 

Jing Yuan couldn't resist the urge to tease you a bit and asked, "Are you feeling nervous?" 

He felt a subtle tremor in your hand, signaling him that you were indeed feeling apprehensive. The sight of your sudden reaction elicited a sense of amusement from within him, causing the corners of his lips to stretch into a small, yet visible grin. However, his amusement was short-lived, for he soon sensed that you had regained your composure and settled into a state of calmness.

"General, I suggest you should release me. It would not be ideal for us to be seen in this manner," you calmly remind, conscious of the potential consequences of being caught in such a compromising position. However, you are unable to deceive the sharp eyes of Jing Yuan, who can sense the underlying emotions beneath your composed exterior.

"Let them see it." You became aware of Jing Yuan's remark, and let out a soft gasp at his boldness. 

Even though he had previously expressed his intention to honor your wishes and wait for you, he spoke truthfully at that moment. It was of no consequence to him if anyone were to witness your intimate exchange, as he desired for everyone to acknowledge that you were solely his.

"General—"

"Jing Yuan," he interjects, longing for the sound of his name on your lips.

"But we're—" again with him interrupting you.

"I have but one desire, (Name), and that is to hear you speak my name," Jing Yuan implores with a subtle plea, his grip on your hands tight as he urges you to comply with his request. His eyes seem to gleam under the sun's rays, almost as if they were hypnotic, coaxing you to surrender to him.

Your lips tighten into a firm line, unwilling to yield to Jing Yuan's indolence yet determined nature. It's one of his many qualities that leaves you with no choice but to relent and give in to his wishes.

Therefore, you relinquish, your shoulders dropping in resignation as you release a defeated sigh.

"Jing Yuan," you utter, finally giving in to his request. He couldn't hide his delight upon hearing his name from your lips. Even if it may seem insignificant to others, it means the world to the General, enough to brighten his mood.

"Very well," he replies with a subtle nod. "I earnestly request that you continue to address me by my name when we are in private. It's not desirable for me to feel a sense of separation from you due to our current circumstances. Do you comprehend my sentiments, (Name)?"

A smile graces Jing Yuan's face as his gaze lingers on you, and you take a brief moment to observe him before answering.

"I understand, but we must stay vigilant. There are prying eyes everywhere you go. I do not wish to bring any more difficulties upon you," you admit bashfully, averting your eyes from his.

Jing Yuan squeezes his grip on you and speaks in a soft tone, "Look at me, (Name)." He waits until he has your full attention. "I want you to understand that if it concerns you, it is not a burden to me. You hold great significance in my life, and I assure you that any inconvenience you may cause is of no concern. In fact, I would be delighted if you require my assistance.”

Jing Yuan's voice is gentle, reminiscent of the gentle caress of fluffy clouds on a bright summer day. He doesn't spell it out, but you can tell he's trying to assuage your worries in his own unique way. His words were already indicative of his intent, and although you have conflicting emotions, they dissipated when Jing Yuan delivered his heartfelt speech.

Your countenance brightens up as you acknowledge Jing Yuan's words with a smile that reaches your eyes, revealing the depth of your gratitude towards him. The General doesn't miss the tenderness in your look, and it stirs a fluttering sensation in his chest that he can't ignore. In response, he mirrors your expression of fondness, beaming with an equal measure of warmth and affection.

Jing Yuan yields to the irresistible impulse to draw you closer, settling you onto his lap, which catches you by surprise and causes your heart to race uncontrollably.

He envelops you in his embrace, his arms delicately encircling your waist, and he presses his nose into your hair, savoring the captivating fragrance of your shampoo that has grown to be his familiar fixation. It is a scent that he will always connect with you, a fragrance that will remain etched in his memory.

"Jing Yuan," you stutter, aware of the blush that suffuses your cheeks from both embarrassment and your close proximity. "Your actions could potentially expose us to being caught by someone."

Jing Yuan is acutely aware of your embarrassment, even without visually confirming it. Despite having shared moments of intimacy in private settings, you still appear unaccustomed to his unpredictable yet affectionate gestures. He finds it perplexing that you are still taken aback, given the likelihood of more instances like this in the future.

He contemplates whether he should demonstrate more of these affectionate actions in the hopes that you'll become more accustomed to such intimacy.

"I have already made myself clear, have I not? Let them see," he declares, as he maintains his embrace and presses his face onto your head. His unwavering action conveys his steadfast resolve to keep you close, unmindful of any prying eyes or onlookers that may come.

“You’re being overbearing, Jing Yuan.” You deliver the comment with a hint of amusement, making him laugh knowing full well that he can sense your eyes rolling in exasperation.

You feel his arms tightening around you, his hold on you growing firmer. "Worry not, no one may enter my office without my permission," he reassures you, though he quickly follows up with a caveat. "With the exception of my retainer, Yanqing, I'm afraid."

You let out a sigh and attempt to shift your position to release yourself from Jing Yuan's hold. Unfortunately, his embrace on you only grows stronger, making it impossible for you to escape his grasp.

Your tone is assertive as you convey your concerns to Jing Yuan. "I suggest it would be appropriate if you release me now. Yanqing could walk in and catch us in this position. Furthermore, Lady Yukong has a meeting scheduled shortly, and my attendance is necessary," you state, underscoring the importance of the matter.

Jing Yuan contemplates whether he should accede to your request or not. However, he comprehends that it would not be prudent to cause you any vexation on account of his own indulgence, especially given that you both have obligations to attend to. Despite the limited time you share, he remains convinced that there will be future opportunities where he can have you as he desires.

"Would it be permissible to remain in this embrace for a mere five minutes?" Jing Yuan inquires, his tone low but exhibiting a gentle and almost imploring quality.

When Jing Yuan receives a nod of your head in response, a smile spreads across his face. He holds onto you tightly, savoring every moment he has left to spend with you. He takes comfort in knowing that you will see each other again later.

As the minutes ticked by, Jing Yuan adhered to his promise and reluctantly let go of you, the loss of your warmth and proximity leaving an ache in his chest. You stood up swiftly, smoothing out your attire and trying to regain your composure. Jing Yuan watched you intently, taking in every detail of your movement and memorizing the way you looked in that moment. As you turned to face him, he remained silent, his gaze fixed solely on you.

With a sense of remorse and a weight on your heart, you implore Jing Yuan. "I know our situation is hard, but please bear it for a little longer."

You are aware that he has no reservations about disclosing your relationship, but you are hesitant due to the potential negative ramifications that it may bring. The prospect of being scrutinized and shunned by others because of your association with the General preoccupies your thoughts and causes you to be ill-equipped to handle the aftermath of a public announcement.

Jing Yuan is not oblivious to your troubled expression as he observes you closely. The way you look down at your feet and clench your fists, he already knows what is weighing on your mind. It is the same expression you wear whenever your secretive relationship becomes a topic of discussion. He truly understands your worries and concerns. Therefore, the only recourse Jing Yuan can offer to alleviate your distress is to offer comfort and assurance. He assures you that he does not object to waiting until such time that you are ready to divulge your relationship to the public, and that he will be there for you every step of the way. In his own inimitable way, he consoles you until your concerns are dispelled. Because that is the only thing he can do for you at this moment.

"(Name)." Jing Yuan once again calls your name and it didn't take him a second to gain your heed. "Will you lean in?"

You were confused by Jing Yuan's sudden request, but without hesitation, you leaned in towards him. Sensing his hand on the back of your head, you felt a rush of emotions. As he pulled you closer to him, your eyes widened in anticipation of what was to come. Jing Yuan's lips landed gently on top of your head, eliciting a tingly sensation that traveled down to your fingertips and stirred butterflies in your stomach. The contact of his lips on your head lingered for a moment briefly before he drew away. His lips curved into a smile as he gazed at your blushing cheeks and slightly parted lips as you looked into each other’s eyes.

Jing Yuan was greatly amused by your reaction, which was one of the many reasons why he took pleasure in teasing you. Your reactions were absolutely priceless, and he simply couldn't get enough of them. It only served to fuel his desire to tease you even further whenever he saw you react in such a way.

Indeed, he is satisfied.

"It would be best if you left now," he suggested, his hand tenderly resting on your head as he gave it a reassuring pat. "I understand that you have other pressing matters to attend to, and I wouldn't want to keep you from them," he explained, his eyes reflecting a blend of melancholy and solicitude. "However, please know that should you ever require any assistance, my door will always be open to you," he offered, his tone composed and reassuring.

As you blink, you snap out of your stupor and quickly straighten your posture. The blush on your face remains, a lingering effect of the surprise that Jing Yuan had given you. It was astounding how effortlessly he could catch you off guard, leaving you constantly on edge, unsure of what he might do next.

He is indeed a mysterious man. 

"Thank you, Jing Yuan. I appreciate your kind offer," you reply, clearing your throat in an attempt to compose yourself. "I shall keep that in mind. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must take my leave."

You cast a quick glance at Jing Yuan, and your eyes catch him gazing at you with such tenderness that it leaves you feeling warm and fuzzy inside. It was a look that he always gave you, even from afar, and it never failed to make your heart melt.

Jing Yuan observes you quietly as you collect yourself to leave his room. He feels a sense of disappointment knowing that you will soon be gone and that he will be left alone in his spacious office. However, he understands the urgency of your matters with the Sky-Faring commission and would not want to be the cause of your tardiness to a meeting that is soon to be held. It would be unwise of him to delay you, even if he wished otherwise.

As Jing Yuan is lost in thought, he suddenly feels a cool sensation on his forehead, interrupting his musings. He soon realizes that you had surprised him with a kiss on the forehead without any prior warning, making his body stiffen unwillingly.

Jing Yuan was astonished yet pleased by your unexpected display of affection. He had not anticipated such a gesture, but it was one that he valued greatly. His body soon relaxes and the warmth in his heart swelled as he closed his eyes, basking in the moment and enjoying the sensation of your touch.

It was a moment that he wished could last indefinitely.

However, the moment of intimacy between you and Jing Yuan came to an end as you pulled away from him. He couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment as the warmth and tenderness he felt instantly dissipated. Jing Yuan adjusted his posture, backing away slightly as he looked at you. He was a bit surprised by the intensity of your gaze, which conveyed a deep admiration and affection that was reserved only for him. This was a look that had the power to make him feel weak, but he always put up a tough front and never revealed his vulnerability to you. 

If only you are aware how much you affected him this much. Will you still be able to grant him more, or minimize because of embarrassment? He does not know. But he hopes it will be the former.

"I will take my leave now as I may be late," you say in a hurry. Jing Yuan simply waves a dismissive hand, giving you permission to attend to your duties.

"Good luck with your work," he said with a smile, and you nodded in response.

As you turn to leave Jing Yuan's office, you pause and take one last glance at Jing Yuan, who's comfortably sitting in his seat as he watches you.

You lick your lips and convey the words that you wanted to say. "I'll see you later."

With a final smile, you exit the room and make your way towards the Helm Master who was waiting for you. 

Once you are no longer in his office, Jing Yuan couldn't help but smile as he reflected on the brief encounter you had just shared. The sensation of your lips on his forehead is still palpable, like a vivid painting on a canvas. The warmth of your touch lingers, leaving an indelible impression on his skin. 

The encounter bestowed upon Jing Yuan gives him a profound sense of contentment and exhilaration, stirring within him a delightful mixture of emotions. The satisfaction he derived from that fleeting interaction proved to be truly intoxicating, leaving him with an insatiable yearning for more. His craving persisted, unquenched by the mere taste of that moment.

Jing Yuan redirects his focus to the documents before him, delicately resting his chin on his palm. The faint smirk that creeps his face persists as though it was a lasting imprint on his features.

How can he not be pleased when his morning was a very welcoming indulgence he had? It indeed gave him the satisfaction that he needs.

If you consistently become the first person he encounters and shower him with your affection every time the moon descends, his mornings will no longer be laden with dreariness as they were originally destined to be.

Jing Yuan will perpetually welcome anything and everything as long as it involves you.

[marigold-hills]

June 17: pic ‘n’ mix | @wolfstarmicrofic | word count: 542

PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART • FIRST PART

It’s a silly thing, really. Having to sneak away like this. They’re both of age and about to graduate. In two weeks, they’ll be living in London, free of supervision, of constraints, of curfews and house points.

Still, it almost feels like old times, to slink through the tunnel to Hogsmead, hide under the Cloak. Almost because it’s also brand new: Moony’s fingers in his, hands palm-to-palm.

They’re wearing their weekend clothes. Remus is in a soft, thin jumper, the sleeves just a little too short and exposing the delicate bones of his wrists. There is a hole in the hem from a Potions’ revision mishap. Sirius put on his favourite combat boots and all his favourite rings - he’s fiddling with them on his left hand, right one busy holding onto Moony’s.

A wall of pic ‘n’ mix takes up the back of Honeydukes. The bottom of it, which Remus is half-bent to peruse, is nothing but chocolate of more variants than Sirius has bothered to try in all the times he’s been here. There are the more common tastes, like peppermint mice and fudge flies, but they veer into obscure the further down he looks. Sure, butterbeer chocolate covered honeycomb sounds delicious, and firewhiskey cauldron cakes will probably be his new favourite, but he’d rather steer clear of the limited-edition chocolate frogs (now with more frog!).

Remus, ever the cocoa-based purist, grumbles at the lack of dark chocolate options but (despite his insistence that classic is best) gets himself a selection of all the new flavours the shop offers.

“Aren’t you getting anything, mo réalta?” Remus squeezes his fingers lightly, just enough to underline the question. He doesn’t even hesitate before picking out extra portions of Peter and James’ favourites – old as their friendship, the accounts of them sneaking through his stash.

“Not sure I fancy anything, to be honest.” Sirius likes spice with his sweet. Burning chilli in his chocolate, sharp salt in caramel. Something to offset the saccharine before it turns insipid. Remus, inconspicuous, with a glint of mischief in his eyes, looks around to make sure nobody is looking their way and raises a piece of something to Sirius’ lips, pushes it into his mouth – fingers unyielding until Sirius accepts.

Sirius bites. It’s an orange truffle, smooth, and inside of it the silkiness of vodka. He says nothing, makes no noise. Remus doesn’t break eye contact once as he chews through the chocolate, and must see something because he nods once, satisfied, and fills up a bag with the proffered sweet.

Stars explode on Sirius’ tongue for an age, each of them a new burst of zest. The alcohol was barely anything, but he is the kind of tipsy that makes the world precise, welcoming. It only lasts a few minutes until the enchantment ends, and immediately he wants to try it again.

“Good?” Remus asks on a laugh (crinkled eyes, happy mouth).

“Amazing.”

His Moony makes a little self-satisfied noise, all contentment. A squeeze of fingers. Picks out other things Sirius is pretty sure will be just to his taste, and there is something about being known, even in this – favourite flavours, such a simple thing – that makes Sirius think yes and more and thank you.

@moon-girl88 @digital-kam @tealeavesandtrash @sweetstarryskies @alltoounwellll @hunnybeemarie @hoje--aqui @annaliza999 @hihimissamericanbi @gipitothefrog @shamelesswolfstarshipper @a-pine-cone @cosmicweeds @cocoabutterandbooks @bloodoffire @residentdisaster @shamelesswolfstarshipper @ravenwordss @prancingpony42 @themoonlovesthestars

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged in next parts

[ghulehunknown]

Terzo x F Reader - Spanking, Degradation, Breeding

Thank you katfish__ on Twitter for bringing my words to life! Check out her full NSFW version here.

**WARNING for explicit content below**

One Missed Text

Summary: You haven’t returned Papa’s text! - or did you? Well either way he’s very upset with you for seemingly ignoring him, and he intends on teaching you a lesson in manners.

CW/Tags: male masturbation, spanking, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (P in V), rough sex, degradation, possessive behavior, breeding, blood, aftercare, spit kink

Word Count: 3.3K

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day, lovelies! I’m bringing back an older fic of mine from AO3 that I haven’t posted here before. I hope you enjoy it!

Poring over text, you sighed. Sister would have your head if you didn’t complete your work by Friday. You were searching for hours in the Unholy Books for references to give her on the week’s upcoming Black Mass sermon: gluttony. That was not nearly as exciting as lust – unless, of course, you were gluttonous for a slice of your beloved. Speaking of, Terzo had not returned your last text message. You were hoping for a midday romp to break up the monotony of the day’s tasks.

You were both teasing each other throughout the day, as you often did on the most boring days to keep each other entertained during the endless meetings and duties. The other Siblings would tease you when they saw your face light up. “Another text from Terzo?” they would ask, knowing full well the answer. What was the subject matter of those messages?…well, that was a secret after all.

“Please…” he had begged through text today (mixed with several undecipherable emojis) after you sent him a quick nip slip photo. “I must have you. Come to me.” That was over two hours ago.

“Name the time and place,” you responded. You saw the text bubbles indicating he was typing, over and over, until they finally disappeared. Frustrated, you tossed your phone back into your purse and continued perusing the books. It felt like forever had gone by. You picked up your phone again just to check for a notification. Nothing. And it had only been 5 minutes. He was so eager before…what happened?

…

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, Terzo was pacing back and forth in his office. He stared at his phone, no notifications staring back at him as if mocking him. He huffed and put his phone back in his pocket, and paced around some more, continuously pulling out his phone every 30 seconds.

His dearest had sent him the most salacious photo (which he immediately saved to his photo roll)…and he felt the heat rising in his trousers. Thank Lucifer he had no more meetings so he could fuck your brains out in his office.

He had responded to your last text inquiring the time and place, “Now. My office, ovviamente. Where else potrei scoparti in pieno giorno cosi forte da dimenticarti il tuo nome?” but you had not responded and he was growing more and more frustrated by the minute. Was the last text too much? Surely not; you had fucked in every scenario before – slow, fast, loving, passionate… aggressive. Maybe you weren’t feeling his assertive tone today? Oh, how he hated the increased paranoia and anxiety that came along with being in love; it drove him mad.

He opened up his camera roll, where he saved all your cheeky photos to his ‘hidden’ album. Texting the password to the album with his left hand, he started to thumb the erection forming in his pants. He leaned back in his office chair and kicked his legs up on the desk, scrolling through the photos while unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants with his right hand. He grabbed a few tissues from his desk and tossed his head back, imagining your mouth on him as he stroked himself faster and faster.

…

It was nearing 5 o’clock and you still had not heard from him. The day was over, and you decided to take up the Siblings’ offer of joining them for dinner and drinks. You headed over to the mess hall and grabbed a bite to eat, chatting with them over a pint and trying to enjoy Ghoul karaoke night (Alpha was “performing” in a series of barking and hissing). You felt a bit dejected, drowning your sorrows in French fries and lager, but tried to brush it off – figuring Terzo got busy during the day. Ever since he had been anointed Papa you saw less and less of one another.

You decided instead of feeling angry, you would reward his hard work with the best fuck he had ever received. You downed the rest of your drink to give yourself a little extra liquid courage, waved goodbye to your friends, and headed back to yours and Terzo’s bedchamber.

When you walked in, you found him leaning against the dresser, cigarette in his mouth and lighter in his hand. Just before he lit up, he caught your gaze and rolled his eyes. You hadn’t realized but your demeanor had changed as soon as you saw the cigarette, your brow furrowing in disdain.

“Come to piss on the fun again?” he huffed, shoving the lighter and unlit cigarette back into his pocket and walking into the bathroom.

“What?” you asked incredulously, following him. (“Not in our room!” you exclaimed the last time he lit one up in bed with you post-coitus.)

“See what you make me do!” He fumbled around in the top drawer of the double vanity, pulling out a nail file, and began to file his nails a little too forcefully.

You stood in the doorway and propped yourself against the doorframe.

He pointed the nail file at you. “You left me hanging today, amore.”

“Me?” you asked, still incredulous at his lack of self-awareness today. “What about you? I was waiting all day for you to tell me where to meet you.”

“Amore!” he exclaimed again, throwing his hands up in the air. His anxieties were building up in him like lava. “So I’m the problem again? I told you to meet me in my office. I waited for you all day – you see how crazy you make me? I even had to take care of this myself – ” He motioned down to his pants, a small tent already formed in his trousers.

You looked down and smiled at the sight. You couldn’t help feeling a little amused. In a way you felt powerful to have such an effect on him.

“Oh you think it’s funny, eh? Well we’ll see how you like being punished for such insolence.”

“Terzo my love, I was waiting for your response all day,” you assured him, but he wasn’t having it.

He exclaimed something unintelligible in Italian under his breath, throwing his hands into the air again then continuing to aggressively file his index and middle fingernails on his right hand. His face turned mischievous as he eyed you out of his peripheral. He turned to you and asked, “You know what this means, don’t you?”

Your face blushed instantly as you knew where his mind was headed. The arousal that had been building up between your legs all day suddenly came trickling down your thighs.

“Don’t act so innocent, amorina,” he said with a smirk. “I know you like to tease and brat, but I expected you to behave today.” He walked around you slowly, like a predator stalking its prey.

You gulped. “Check your phone,” you piped up. He rolled his eyes once more in response. You reached forward, trying to get to his pocket, but he easily swatted your hand away. “Check it!” you urged. “I would never leave you unanswered.”

He seemed skeptical but pulled out his phone and went to his messages. “Oh,” he said, suddenly changing tone. “It appears I did not hit ‘send.’”

“See?” you said triumphantly, trying to get past him to look at his screen, his futile attempts to keep you from looking failing. He tried to erase the message quickly but you read it just in time, blushing again at what he would’ve sent you.

He shook his head as if shaking off the embarrassment of his unnecessary theatrics. “This changes nothing. You should have known where to come and to obey me as soon as you saw the last message.”

You smiled at him, amused that he did not yet have the poise nor the patience that his older brothers had as head of the Satanic Church. He might’ve had a few forehead wrinkles, but sometimes he reminded you of a younger man. He certainly had the impetuousness and stamina of one.

You stepped back into the room, hooking one leg seductively over the leather armchair in the corner, exposing your upper thigh through the slit in your habit. “That’s right,” you said, running with his game. “I was so disrespectful to not heed your call right away.” You took off your veil, tossing your hair back and running your hands through it to smooth down the flyaways.

As you were busy trying to look as seductive as possible, he slid right up next to you, his hand reaching through the slit in your habit. He inhaled the scent of your hair and groaned under his breath, his hand pawing at the hem of your panties. His hand trailed against the cloth, feeling your wetness already saturating it.

“I thought of you all day,” you whispered against his neck, feeling his breath on your cheek, the smell of his spearmint gum washing over you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders affectionately.

“I can tell,” he said. His touch could be so soft and delicate – when he wanted to be – he had already snuck two fingers past the hem of your panties at your entrance. He brought his hand up his under his nose, thumbing your slick in between his fingers. He turned you around roughly and unzipped your dress in one motion. He tore the fabric off you, exposing you in nothing but your bra and underwear.

“Take them off,” he said, gesturing towards your panties. You obeyed swiftly, and tossed them to the side, wearing nothing but your bra now. As you did that, he took off his belt and kicked off his shoes. He folded his belt and snapped it, almost threateningly.

You eyed the belt from the side, your arms steadying you against the armchair. He had never used a belt on you before; you were only used to the palm of his hand, and he was usually quite gentle.

He saw the glimmer of fear in your eyes and came up behind you, placing the belt on the arm of the chair beside your elbow. “I’ll be gentle for today, amore,” he assured, slipping his hand between your thighs, teasing your wet entrance again. Instinctively, your shoulders relaxed and you sighed, relieved.

“But still you must be punished, no?” He took your chin in his free hand, forcing your face to the side, closer to his lips. You nodded in his hand, moaning slightly as his fingertips roamed around, pushing inside your entrance teasingly. “You see how horny you make me, mmh?” he whispered into your ear, groaning on the last syllable. He pressed his clothed erection against your bare ass, his cock twitching in his pants.

“Open,” he commanded, squeezing your mouth open. He gathered up a wad of saliva in his mouth and spat into your mouth, then clamped your mouth shut again. “Swallow.” You gulped. “That’s Papa’s brava ragazza. You’ll do anything I say.”

You eagerly anticipated his next move, wanting to feel his warm seed rush inside you after waiting all day for him, while simultaneously wanting him to take his sweet time antagonizing you and denying you your pleasure.

“What is my punishment, Papa?” you asked enthusiastically, hoping for him to continue using you.

“I think naughty girls deserve to get spanked by their Papa, don’t you?”

You whimpered slightly and nodded, your chin still in his tight grasp. “Yes Papa,” you feigned lament, hanging your head slack in his palm.

He released his grasp on you and withdrew his fingertips from your cunt, and you slumped over the armchair, holding yourself up by your elbows.

“You disobeyed me today,” he said warningly, palming your ass forcefully – yet still softly – massaging the area before striking again. You nodded in agreement. He cracked his belt again for dramatic effect. Crack! This time the leather hit you harder than his hand, stinging your skin a little. CRACK. You moaned louder, feeling the pain more now. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you mia piccola puttana?” he laughed, sticking his middle finger inside your cunt and feeling more wetness trickle out. He took his finger out and wiped your juices on your back before continuing.

Relentlessly he continued, spewing various obscenities at you in Italian. “Who do you belong to, whore?” he kept asking. “You, Papa!” you would shout through stifled yelps. Every few strokes he would sneak in a gentle touch to your raw skin, soothing the redness.

“You come to me when called next time,” he said. “I do not have all day to wait for some filthy slut to pleasure me. Nor do I have the time to take care of myself day in and day out.” He threw the belt to the side, opting for a more personal touch.

You whined in agreement, preparing for the next strike.

SMACK! he spanked you harder with the palm of his hand. “Mmm!” you mumbled, your flesh throbbing. SMACK! he struck you again.

“I am in meetings all day tomorrow,” he continued as if he was not ruthlessly punishing you and just striking up normal conversation. SMACK.

“Ah! Mmm – then I will be waiting for you here when you return after a long day.”

“No, you’ll be on your knees like the good little slut you are,” he said. Smack!

“But Sister will see – ah! – and anyone else in the room – ” you began but he stopped you.

“Silence!” he hissed, striking your ass once more, even harder this time. “It’s time you put your whore mouth to use and show everyone who you belong to, who you worship.”

All you could do was nod in agreement as he struck you across the ass again. Your skin was raw and aching, and you longed for a more delicate touch. Almost as if reading your mind, it seemed Terzo had ceased the punishments – for now. You peeked behind you and saw him hurriedly take off his clothes. Soon he was undressed, and soothingly caressing the red skin on your rear.

“Are you well, amore?” he asked in dulcet tones, lulling you into relaxation. “I know that was rougher than usual.” He touched your back comfortingly.

You trembled, still holding yourself up against the armchair, but nodded assuredly.

“Good,” he said, inching closer. You could feel the head of his erection prod against your thigh as he leaned in close to your ear. “We aren’t through. Are you ready to be bred like a brood mare by your Papa?”

You gasped as he took you from behind and grabbed you roughly by the hips. He pummeled into you uncompromisingly and determined. There was no graceful entry like when you usually made love; this one was a furious desperation of a man who needed carnal pleasure immediately. “Fuck – Terzo!” you exclaimed, adjusting to his length.

“Take it, whore! That’s it, Papa’s little cum rag. So fucking tight, Lucifer – fuck – cazzo!” he grunted through rough thrusts. You were that tight because he had not worked you up enough in between your punishment and his pleasure. Eventually after a dozen thrusts, you acclimated to his rhythm and pushed back into his cock when he rammed into you. That drove him wild. He cried out an indiscernible, animalistic noise that turned into a laugh. “Oh fuck – Satanas you do it so good – fuck –”

It always pleased you to hear your usually eloquent Papa turn into someone who could barely speak, all because he was inside you, bewitched. Your head spun and face flushed as he continued to pound into you, gripping your hips tighter and tighter until you could feel a warm liquid drip down the sides of your thighs. He was still going – he hadn’t cum yet…

He hastily grasped around your neck and clutched at your breasts until firmly grabbing your shoulder with his left hand, holding you tightly in place, and you smelled iron. You glanced down at your chest and saw bloody fingerprints across your skin. Sticky and metallic, the sensation hit you, making you dizzy. His right hand trailed across your thigh around to your front, smearing more blood along your side to your front.

He deftly parted your labia and circled your clit with his fingertips, mixing your blood with your cum and using it to glide over your sensitive bud.

You moaned, unable to speak clearly. You continued clutching onto the armchair for support, feeling weak at the knees. “Yes – right there – ” you muttered as he delicately fingered you while ruthlessly thrusting into your cunt from behind. You cried out in passion as he hit your g-spot and you could feel your orgasm was close.

“Esatto, ecco la mia brava ragazzina. Vieni per me, mio angelo del peccato.” As he rammed into you with precision, his breathing quickened until he was moaning your name. “Ho bisogno di te, ho…bisogno – di – te,” he stifled, cock quivering inside you.

You shuddered under him, your body trembling as you came. Your body rocked against his chest and he kept his rhythm, never breaking away from his hold on you. You cried out in ecstasy and slumped forward further over the arm of the chair, spent and breathless.

Wasting no time, he grabbed onto your elbows to pull you closer and thrust into you harder and faster. “Your cunt will be full of my seed – fuck!” he said. You yelped, wanting to relax but he drove through you to his climax, his warm cum coating your walls and seeping out onto your thighs. He groaned, finishing out his high on three final slow thrusts, until he collapsed on top of you. The both of you lay in a crumpled heap on top of the chair for a moment, catching your breath.

“Merda!” he exclaimed, pleased. He kissed your shoulder blade then got up, pulling out of you finally. He crouched down beside you and tucked your now unkempt hair behind your ear. “How is la mia principessa, hm?”

You nodded and smiled, closing your eyes contentedly but unable to speak just yet.

“Ah shit,” he said, looking you over and realizing you were bleeding from where his nails dug in too tightly around your hips. He picked you up and threw you over his shoulder and took you into the bathroom, sitting you down by the bathtub.

“Ah,” you muttered, wincing. Your rear end was still throbbing from earlier and the cuts in your thighs were stinging.

He rummaged through the drawers and pulled out antiseptic, cotton balls, and bandages. He took a washcloth from the cupboard and ran it under the tap. He knelt down beside you and wiped away the bloody fingerprints all over your body. He wiped off the wounds on your thighs with such tender care you would not have guessed he was the same man fucking you senseless just moments ago. He put antiseptic on a cotton ball and swiped your cuts.

“Ouch!” you mumbled, the stinging overwhelming for a few seconds before subsiding.

“I am sorry I got overzealous, amore. You just make me so fucking crazy.” He opened the bandages and gently smoothed them over your skin, careful not to reignite the pain.

“It’s okay, love.” You smoothed back his hair and gazed lovingly into his eyes. He glanced down at your entrance, still leaking with his cum from moments ago. “It didn’t take,” you said.

“Mm?”

“I went back on the pill last week.”

“I know, tesoro. I saw the pill pack on the counter. It is fun to pretend.” He kissed your forehead.

Italian to English Translations

ovviamente (obviously)

[Where else] potrei scoparti in pieno giorno cosi forte da dimenticarti il tuo nome? (“[Where else] could I fuck you so hard in broad daylight you’d forget your name?”)

Amore (love/my love)

Amorina (love/sweetheart)

brava ragazza (good girl)

mia piccola puttana (my little slut)

cazzo (fuck)

Esatto, ecco la mia brava ragazzina. Vieni per me, mio angelo del peccato. (That’s right, my good little girl. Cum for me, my angel of sin.)

Ho bisogno di te (I need you)

Merda (shit)

la mia principessa (my princess)

tesoro (treasure)

[dragon-ascent]

Paraphernalia

You are an avid collector of Rex lapis merch...and your husband is Rex Lapis himself.

★彡fluff, fun stuff, zhongli finds you amusing as always

Zhongli had revealed his identity to you much before you two had gotten married. You’d been very respectful and told him how much you admired him as both a man and a deity...but oh boy, if Zhongli thought that was where your devotion ended, he was in for a long ride.

“Oh my freaking gosh! Eeeee!”

At your squeal, Zhongli is immediately at your side. “What is the matter- ah.” He sees the pamphlet you’re holding and suddenly it all clicks into place. 

You clutch your husband’s arm, barely able to contain yourself. “New Rex Lapis plushie launching tomorrow! Eeeee! Let’s go down to the store as soon as it opens!”

Zhongli kisses your forehead, his heart fluttering at your enthusiasm. “Allow me to take a look.” He gently takes the pamphlet from your hands and peruses it, then looks up at the bed you two share...where you also keep your enormous pile of Rex Lapis plushies. “Erm...dear, what is different about this new one?”

“Look!” You point at what the new plushie is holding. “It comes with a free Mora coin plush! I haaaaave to get it!”

It’s worth it, really. There’s nothing Zhongli cherishes more than seeing you happy. And when he finds you the next day curled up in bed, napping away with your brand-new Rex Lapis plushie pressed to your chest, he finds his heart melting like the sweetest chocolate on a summer day.

Of course, with how fanatical you get sometimes, you get so caught up in all your Rex Lapis paraphernalia that you almost forget who Zhongli really is...

“I’m doomed! I have blasphemed!”

“Did you sit on the lap of one of the Statues of the Seven again, dear?” Zhongli inquires without even looking up from the morning paper. “I told you, it does not count as-”

“Even worse! The new glow-in-the-dark Rex Lapis keychains are all sold out and I missed my chance to buy them!”

At this, Zhongli gazes at you sympathetically as you huff and puff around the room, equal parts agitated and distressed. He knows how much your collection means to you. “I see. Well, you can get one when they restock, can you not?”

“No way!” you cry out, staring at Zhongli like he had just grown horns and a tail. “The restocked keychains will be B-grade ones! I need to own only first-edition, top-quality merch!”

“Ah. Oh dear...” 

“What would Rex Lapis think?” you wail, flopping into your husband’s sturdy arms. “Rex Lapis, what do you think of me?”

“I don’t think ill of you, darling, I never could,” Zhongli assures, planting a soft kiss to your temple. “I still love you regardless of how many Rex Lapis-themed items you possess.”

“You’re just saying that to be nice!”

Zhongli chuckles. “I’m saying that because I love you, and married you for love. I never once wondered how many keychains in my image you obtained before I slid the ring onto your finger.”

Your lip wobbling, you ask, “Do you really mean it?”

“Of course I do, my beloved,” he answers softly, kissing the spot under your ear and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Come now, let me show you just how much.”

Of course, even when he offers you tender, affectionate consolation, Zhongli still ultimately wants to see you at your happiest. So wherever he can, he tries to pull some strings~

“Darling,” Zhongli calls after a long day of work. “I’m home!”

“Welcome home!” You run over to him and give him a peck on the lips. “How was your day?”

“Quite eventful,” he answers, “especially since I managed to procure a very important item.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “An important item? What is it?”

Zhongli smiles, holding out both of his hands, fists closed. “I shall let you find out.”

Utterly intrigued, you look at both closed fists, trying to gauge which one has the item. It must be quite small to fit in his palm...what important item could be that small? 

Pushing away the question since it was sure to be answered within a few moments, you go with your gut and pick the right hand. Zhongli’s smile widens and he opens his palm...

Gasping, you let out a squeal. “Is this...what I think it is?!”

“The very same.” 

Still in disbelief, you take the keychain and observe its details. “It - it really is a first edition glow-in-the-dark Rex Lapis keychain...oh my gosh...but how..?”

Zhongli pulls you into a hug, chuckling at they way you seem to vibrate in his arms in excitement. “I managed to get ahold of a scalper and...persuade him to sell it to me at regular price.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You beam, singing his praises while waving the keychain around happily. “I love Rex Lapis sooooo much!”

Your husband kisses you, practically glowing at your happiness. “Rex Lapis loves you too, my beloved.”

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia (Part One)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

You're a new recruit to the spider society, and you've just been sent on your first mission on one condition: Do not contact Miguel's variant in this universe. When your mission goes wrong you break that rule very quickly, desperate for help, only to find that Miguel's variant here is not what you expected. He's stoic but kind, awkward but sincere, and he's also an enormous human-spider hybrid: A drider, both human and arachnid. You decide to continue seeing Miguel in secret, with the rest of the society unaware. You really want to stay friends after all. That is, until Miguel suddenly goes into a rut. Word count: 2457 Notes: fun little thing i cooked up while ill and after being inspired by a mutuals work. chap 1 + 2 set up and characters meeting, chap 3 and onward is the smut, enjoy x

‘Hey! You got a mission!’

You glanced up from your desk and peeped around your holographic screen, curiously perusing for whoever had called. A mission? Who was it this time?

You spotted Jess making her way down the opposite hall to you, her eyes scanning the other desks. Ah, of course, you knew her voice anywhere. So this was an elite mission. With your curiosity now fully peeked you slyly leaned your chair even further out into the corridor, eyes peeled to try and see who she went towards.

One of the new Peters, perhaps? They were always clambering for a mission. Or perhaps the new Gwen? She certainly thought she deserved a solo mission, and she wasn’t even wrong.

You became so enraptured with your own office snooping that you entirely missed Jess as she walked up behind you.

‘You okay there?’

You jumped in your chair and nearly fell to the floor, only barely catching yourself on the rim of your desk. ‘AH- Oh, hi! Yes! Yes, all good. All- fine. What is up, boss?’

Jess flatly squared her hands on her hips. ‘I was literally calling you with exactly what is up’ she noted drolly. ‘You got a mission.’

You felt your shoulders tense as your stomach dropped. Your fear must have been clear because Jess immediately raised a brow.

You were getting sent out? Finally? You?

You swallowed down the growing lump in your throat. It was a justified fear, at least in your mind, as if this was true this would be your first big mission for the Spider Society. No more fighting minor crime in your own home city, now you were patrolling the multiverse.

‘Well?’

You jumped a second time as Jess interrupted your thoughts. It was very clear that you were wasting her time.

‘Oh! Ah, shit- yes, sorry.’ In a hurry you pushed your chair back and hopped to your feet, struggling to look as professional as you could. Jess’s face hardly moved. She seemed to be eyeing you up, making tiny little conclusions in her mind that you couldn’t see.

Luckily that didn’t last. Her face quickly changed back to that casual smile, and with a wave of her hand she beckoned you to follow. ‘My god you’re tightly wound. They were right. Come on!’

You quickly powered down the PC you’d been doing busywork on and rushed to follow her.

‘I thought Miguel was the only Spider who didn’t have senses. I've never seen another spider surprised like that’ Jess noted over her shoulder as you followed. You opened your mouth to reply but were cut off as you both exited the research block, with the sliding doors revealing a bright and blinding midday sun beaming down through the glass walls above. You shielded your eyes and hurried to catch up.

‘I do have senses, sorry, just- I’m still getting used to being here. I thought I lost it, actually, funny story, but uh- no, see I don’t know if you ever got told this, but apparently, I heard from one of the older Peter’s there’s this unofficial but pretty established thing called sense fatigue.’

‘Ahuh.’ Jess was obviously just trying to get to Miguel’s office as quickly as possible at this point, but you didn’t notice. You continued rambling.

‘It’s like whisker fatigue on cats, did you know cats got that? So spiders, we’re so used to being the only ones with senses, that when you first join the society it kinda exhausts your senses being around SO many other people that it stops working as well. I think that’s what’s happening to me. Did that ever happen to you?’

‘Nope.’

Jess’s curt response didn’t dampen your spirits. You eagerly jogged along the final main beam towards the go-home machine, jumping and dodging the other spiders as they went by.

‘Huh! Well that’s why you’re an elite, probably, right? Along with other reasons, I’m sure.’

‘Many other reasons’ Jess said.

‘But uh- I’m sure it’s fine. It’s better at home so, won’t affect me on the mission.’

‘Let’s hope not.’

With that being the final word Jess led you down the corridor towards Miguel’s office. It was darker there than the rest of the HQ, down in these tight-knit spaces covered in half-made junk and unfinished tech. You had to jump over multiple loose wires and metal plates to get to the door.

‘Miguel! I got who you asked for!’

You scurried up to Jess’s back as you both entered into Miguel’s domain. It was enormous in scope, dark and shadowed with jagged metal spires reaching so far up that you couldn’t see where they ended. In the centre of the room was that signature floating desk, and on that signature floating desk was the man himself.

Miguel O’Hara, slouched over his desk with his hackles raised and his neck bent.

‘Miguel! I brought ‘em over.’

Jess’s call caused him to pause. He was midway through typing something.

‘The new one?’

His voice was smooth, gruff and cold. It sent a shiver down your spine.

‘Yep. The new one.’

With a grunt Miguel finished typing and turned to face you. You jumped as he dropped down from his desk to the floor.

God he was pretty. You felt your heart thud a little harder as he stared down at you, hands carefully placed on his hips to highlight his shoulders.

No, not pretty. He was beautiful. You struggled to stand up a little taller.

‘Hi! Hello, ah- sir, you wanted me for a mission?’

Miguel looked you up and down like he could see through to your very soul. It was very strangely violating to be stared at by those cold red eyes. After giving you the up and down he turned and manifested a new screen at his back.

‘You’re going to E-298. There’s a vulture anomaly.’

‘Ah! Alright. Sounds, do-able. Who am I with?’

‘No one.’

You blanked. Your mouth moved but no words came out. ‘No- no one? Sir?’

Miguel grunted. ‘Somethings up. Almost everyone right now is busy, there’s anomalies everywhere, which is why I’m sending you to clear this up.’

‘Uh- I mean, Jess, is—’

‘Jess is coming with me to deal with an anomaly hole in E-345’ Miguel barked, quickly cutting you off. You pursed your lips on any further complaints.

‘Just subdue and cage the bad guy, then send him back here. Lyla will deal with any larger anomalies. Can you handle that?’

You shuffled your feet to hide how hot you felt. You shouldn’t be indulging this, but your body was reacting quite strangely to being ordered around by the larger man.

‘Ah- yes, sir’ you replied. Miguel nodded his approval, and you ate it up.

‘Good. I’ll need you to head out immediately.’

When Miguel failed to say anything else you assumed that it was time to go, and quickly turned to leave. Short and brief, you thought, what more could you expect though? He was a busy man after all.

But then Miguel spoke again.

‘Wait!’

You paused and turned to see Miguel holding up a single claw. His eyes were narrowed, his brows knotted in a way that was unusually intense even for him. You hated the way you cowered under his shadow.

‘I- I don’t usually bring this up, but, you’re… new, so I want to warn you’ he said, his voice going low. You noticed his nose flaring as he came closer, almost like he was breathing something in. You stood rigid beneath his enormous body. ‘This universe you’re going to, is- home to one of my variants.’

Your eyes widened a little, your mouth forming a soft ‘oh’. ‘Ah! Okay! Is, will you- or, he, I guess- will he be helping—’

‘Stay away from him’ Miguel barked. ‘My variations are not to be trusted. Understood?’

You slowly closed your mouth, giving a short nod.

‘Yes, sir. Of course.’ You pursed your lips as Miguel returned the nod. He slunk back to his office without a second word, and you followed Jess out of the office.

….

Later that day

...

‘God- damn it!’

You stumbled across the street floor, hand clutched to your side. You were hiding in a back alley of a smoking building, your body covered in dust and debris. The muted, muffled screams of a frustrated vulture filled the otherwise empty street.  

With a grunt you pressed your back to the wall of the opposing building. It was dark here and the bricks were wet against your suit. You forcefully and awkwardly pulled your mask aside to breath.

Your fight with the vulture hadn’t gone as planned. You’d started out well enough, but that’d just made you cocky. In an attempt to do your best you’d overstretched your web mechanism to the point of jamming it, and you’d soon been overpowered by your feathery opponent.

A few tosses into the wall had bruised at least one rib, and your muscles were straining to even stand.

‘I need… back up…’

It hurt to admit, but you had no other choice. You raised your portal watch and began scanning for anyone you could call for help.

You scrolled, and scanned, and scrolled and scanned until your finger hurt from scrolling. Your movements grew more frantic as your gut began to sink. No, no, no. You could feel your panic rising. Every spider you brought up had an X beside them, meaning they were out of reach for contact.

‘Shit- Shit! Everyone?! It’s really everyone?!’

X after X after X. there was no one who could help you now.

With a soft whine you sank back against the wall, gripping its sides for stability. This was bad, this was REALLY bad. Really, REALLY bad.

You gently cracked your knuckle against the damp bricks at your back. Idiot, you thought. Why had Miguel thought you were worthy to be in this society? Why had you taken the position at all?

In that moment, you felt very much alone.

But, wait. You weren’t the only spider in this universe, right?

Your eyes trailed down to your watch where it’d fallen on Miguel. His symbol for availability was red like the others, but it reminded you of what he’d said. He had a variant here.

Miguel said his variants weren’t to be trusted, but, why? It was strange for him to be so cagey with information like that. Miguel was famously too honest, too blunt, often to his detriment. He only left stuff out if it was inconvenient.

So, what was the issue? Your mind had, at first, gone to the worst possibilities. That he was a mad scientist, or a venom variation, or was so messed up by the DNA splicing that he was incapable of reason.

That didn’t have to be the case though, did it? Perhaps it was something else.

You unceremoniously scrambled to check your things. You had your weapons. You had your watch. Surely if he was dangerous you could just escape, and you could apologize to Miguel later for not listening to him.

Besides, what choice did you have? Either you failed to get the vulture and went back in disgrace, or it turned out Miguel’s variant is a bad guy and you go home in disgrace again. The only good option was the reveal that Miguel’s variant was just, weird, or made him feel inadequate, or wanted $10 for helping out. Thing’s that Miguel could conceivably view as making him unworthy to be a spider society member.

With that desperate cope you made up your mind. You drew your watch to your lips and whispered.

‘Lyla? Hey, Lyla?’

‘What’s up, newbie.’

The snazzy little AI appeared on your wrist, eagerly pacing back and forth as she waited for orders. You swallowed hard; it was now or never.

‘Ah- you, can trace people in this universe, right?’

‘Yep.’

‘You could, theoretically, trace any spiders here?’

‘Yeeeppp.’

‘Could… could you uh, please, trace the Miguel O’Hara in this universe, for me?’

At that Lyla paused. She spun on her heel with dramatic flair, her glasses falling down her nose without her even touching them. She looked surprised.

‘Wow! Didn’t take you for a risky little sneak.’

‘I’m not! I’m just- I need some help and everyone else is busy.’

‘Ahuh. Whatever you say, I don’t care. Honestly I’m just excited someone asked me. I’ve wanted to see his freaky variants for years, but he won’t ever let me look it up. Since you asked though, I got immunity.’

You tried not to think too much about the implications of what she’d said. You lay back and waited for Lyla to complete her scan, all while very aware of the vulture’s continued destruction going on in the building beside you. For now he was contained in there, as you’d put up a light shield, but that wouldn’t last forever.

Please let this work, you pleaded internally. Please.

‘Aha! Got ‘im.’

You let out a sigh of relief as Lyla re-appeared. ‘Great! Where is he?’

‘He’s close’ Lyla cooed, waving a fake document in front of you that was too small to read. You gestured with your hand for her to hurry up.

‘Yes! Okay! Where?’

‘The pine forest park just beyond the city line, to the north. Looks like he’s pretty deep in there.’

You felt your enthusiasm die just a little. He was in a forest? Why? You felt a little pang of anxiety in your gut about this whole thing, but you quickly shut it down as the vulture’s rampage grew louder. No, it was probably fine. Maybe he just had a hidden base in the woods, that was normal, right?

Besides, you didn’t have time to spare. Either he helped or didn’t, and if he didn’t want to help you needed to know that sooner than later.

‘Okay. Thanks Lyla, I owe you.’

‘Everyone does.’

Lyla zipped out of existence as you swung yourself back into the open air, flinging your body way above the city skyline. Up here, with the clear sky and wide-open city scape, you immediately spotted what Lyla had been talking about: an enormous pine forest way off in the distance, hugging the cities edge like a sleeping bear. It looked thick, untamed, and its edges were dark beneath the clouds of an oncoming storm.

You swung your way through the streets and watched the trees grow closer.

‘Alright’ you whispered, your body soaring through the sky. ‘Let’s meet the new Mr O’Hara.' Link to part two!

[muiitoloko]

The Art of Parenting

Summary: Art dealer Lionel Shahbandar’s comfortable life is disrupted when his past catches up with him in the form of a daughter, leading to an uncomfortable journey into parenthood.

Pairing: Lionel Shahbandar & Daughter! Reader

Warnings: Emotional Distress, Parental Abandonment, Alcohol Use, Child Neglect, Angst.

Author's Notes: I've been working on this for a while, and it feels so good to finally share it with everyone. I hope you all enjoy it!

Also read on Ao3

Lionel Shahbandar, lounging in his opulent mansion adorned with priceless art and luxurious furnishings, was in the final stages of preparing for another day of wheeling and dealing in the art world. The persistent ringing of the doorbell shattered the calm, causing Lionel to sigh irritably. With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, he tossed aside the newspaper he’d been perusing and sauntered towards the door, his demeanor exuding a mix of annoyance and curiosity.

Opening the grand door with a flourish, Lionel found himself face to face with a stunning blonde woman. Her icy blue eyes glinted with a mix of determination and impatience, her lips set in a firm line. The child by her side, a girl of about five, clung to her hand, her wide eyes darting around the lavish surroundings.

Lionel's lips curled into a slow, appreciative smile, his baritone voice dropping into a purr as he leaned casually against the doorframe. “Well, hello there, pretty thing,” he drawled, his eyes flicking over her with a practiced ease.

The woman’s response was immediate and dismissive. She rolled her eyes with a derisive snort and pushed past him, the child in tow. “Get out of my way, Lionel,” she snapped, striding into the foyer as if she owned the place.

Taken aback by her audacity, Lionel straightened, his expression shifting to one of indignation. “Excuse me, who the hell are you?” he demanded, his gaze narrowing as he followed her into the mansion.

The woman spun around, fixing him with a glare that could cut glass. “Have you already forgotten me?” she retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Typical. I shouldn’t be surprised, given your penchant for one-night stands.”

Lionel’s eyes widened in shock, his mind racing as he scrutinized her more closely. Her face, now framed by high cheekbones and plumped lips, bore the unmistakable signs of plastic surgery. But it was the exaggerated curves, particularly her large, unnatural breasts, that triggered a spark of recognition.

“Oh my God,” Lionel muttered, his voice laced with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “I know who you are.”

The woman crossed her arms over her chest, arching an eyebrow as a smirk played on her lips. “Surprise,” she said dryly, her gaze challenging him to put the pieces together.

Lionel’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly for a moment, his mind reeling. “Valerie?” he finally managed, his voice a mix of astonishment and incredulity. “What happened to you? And why are you here?”

Valerie’s eyes flashed with a mix of irritation and a hint of satisfaction. “Oh, don’t act so shocked,” she replied, her tone cool and edged with bitterness. “It’s been years, Lionel. You think you can just have your fun and then forget all about the women you leave in your wake?”

Lionel’s brows furrowed as he struggled to process the whirlwind of emotions and memories flooding back. “What do you want, Valerie?” he asked, his voice losing its earlier confidence, replaced by a wary edge.

Valerie’s glare hardened as she reached into her bag, pulling out a smaller, well-worn backpack. She tossed it at Lionel’s feet with a sneer. “Here. Take care of your daughter.”

Lionel’s eyes followed the bag, then snapped up to the child standing beside Valerie. He chuckled derisively, shaking his head as if to clear some fog of misunderstanding. “My daughter? No, no, there must be some mistake. I don’t have children.”

Valerie rolled her eyes, her patience visibly fraying. “Her name is [Your Name],” she said coldly, pointing to the little girl, who looked up at Lionel with wide, innocent eyes. “And she’s our daughter. You didn’t even remember my face, let alone anything about our past.”

Lionel’s confident façade cracked, his features contorting into a mixture of disbelief and irritation. “You’re joking,” he said, a forced laugh escaping him. “This is some kind of sick prank, right? There’s no way—”

Valerie cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Oh, grow up, Lionel! She’s four. You do the math. We had a thing, and then you vanished, as usual.”

Lionel’s brow furrowed deeply, his baritone voice hardening with a defensive edge. “I don’t do children, Valerie. Never wanted them, never will. So whatever game you’re playing, take it somewhere else.”

Valerie’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a cold smile. “Too bad, Lionel. I’ve been taking care of [Your Name] for four years, and now it’s your turn. I need a break, and my new boyfriend and I are traveling for a month. You’re going to step up for once in your life.”

Lionel’s gaze flicked between Valerie and the little girl, his annoyance morphing into outright defiance. “Absolutely not. You can’t just dump her on me like this. Take her with you.”

Valerie’s expression hardened into one of steely resolve. “Watch me.” She leaned down to you, her voice softening slightly but tinged with impatience. “Stay with Daddy, okay? I’ll be back in a month.”

You nodded hesitantly, clutching the blanket in your hand like a lifeline. Valerie just smiled, a cold, almost triumphant look in her eyes as she turned on her heel to leave. Lionel’s expression shifted from disbelief to panic as he reached out, his voice rising in desperation.

“Valerie, wait! You can’t just leave her here!” he called after her, stepping forward to block her path.

Valerie paused, her expression hardening as she met his gaze with a steely resolve. “I’m coming back in a month, Lionel,” she stated firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ll manage.”

Lionel’s face contorted with frustration. “I don’t know the first thing about taking care of children!” he protested, his baritone voice echoing through the grand foyer.

Valerie rolled her eyes, a smirk playing on her lips. “It’s easy,” she replied dismissively. “Feed her, bathe her. It’s like taking care of a dog. Besides, she’s easy to take care of. She doesn’t talk much.”

Lionel’s eyes flicked down to you, standing there quietly, your eyes wide and uncertain. The reality of the situation began to settle in, and he felt a wave of resentment rise within him. “Valerie, this is ridiculous. I can’t—”

But Valerie was already walking away, her heels clicking decisively against the marble floor. “See you in a month, Lionel,” she called over her shoulder, not bothering to turn around. “Good luck.”

The door closed behind her with a resolute thud, leaving Lionel standing there, staring after her in stunned silence. He looked down at you, his face a mask of irritation and confusion. You hugged your blanket tighter, feeling the weight of his gaze.

Lionel sighed heavily, running a hand through his meticulously styled hair. “Well, this is just perfect,” he muttered to himself, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “A child. Just what I needed.”

He turned away, gesturing for you to follow him. “Come on, then. Let’s figure out what to do with you,” he said, his voice lacking any warmth or enthusiasm. You followed him through the opulent mansion, your small footsteps echoing in the vast, marble hallways.

Lionel led you to a large sitting room, filled with priceless art and luxurious furnishings. He motioned for you to sit on one of the plush sofas, watching you with a mixture of annoyance and resignation. “So, what do you need? Food? Bath? What do kids even do at this hour?”

You remained silent, your eyes darting around the unfamiliar surroundings. Lionel sighed again, a deep, weary sound. “Right. You don’t talk much. Wonderful.”

He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of scotch, pouring himself a generous glass. “Guess we’ll just have to figure this out together, won’t we?” he said, taking a long sip of his drink. He looked at you over the rim of his glass, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “You’re not going to cause trouble, are you?”

You shook your head slowly, still clutching your blanket. Lionel seemed to relax slightly, though his irritation was still evident. “Good. Because the last thing I need is a child running around causing chaos.”

He sank into a chair opposite you, his posture exuding a mix of resignation and defiance. “Alright, here’s the deal,” he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “I’m not cut out for this whole parenting thing. But for the next month, you’ll be staying here. I’ll do my best to take care of you, but don’t expect me to be your father. Understood?”

You nodded again, your wide eyes never leaving his face. Lionel downed the rest of his drink, the liquid burning its way down his throat. “Great,” he muttered, setting the glass down with a thud. “This should be interesting.”

The two of you sat in silence, the weight of the situation settling over both of you like a heavy, oppressive cloud. Despite his outward bravado, Lionel couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his gut. Taking care of a child was a responsibility he had never wanted, much less expected to be thrust upon him so abruptly.

Lionel set the glass down with a clink, the sound sharp against the quiet backdrop of his opulent sitting room. He leaned forward, his hooked nose casting a long shadow across his face in the dim light.

“Listen carefully,” he said, his baritone voice carrying a note of cold detachment. “There are going to be some ground rules while you’re here. Rule number one: You don’t call me ‘father.’ I’m not your father, and I don’t want to be. You’re only here for a month, and after that, I don’t want to know you. Got it?”

You nodded slowly, squeezing your blanket tighter against your chest, the softness a small comfort in this unfamiliar, intimidating place. Lionel’s eyes flicked to your hands clutching the blanket, his expression a mix of irritation and something close to disdain.

“Rule number two,” he continued, his tone growing firmer. “Don’t touch my things. This house is filled with valuable items, and I don’t need a child ruining them. Stay out of my way, and don’t go messing with anything you shouldn’t.”

You nodded again, your eyes wide and unblinking. The opulence of the room—the ornate vases, the priceless paintings—felt like a world entirely separate from your own, and the thought of disturbing anything filled you with a deep, abiding dread.

Lionel leaned back in his chair, studying you with a cold, calculating gaze. “And rule number three,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “When you grow up, don’t ever come looking for me. I don’t want children. I don’t want heirs. I’m not your father, and I’ll never be. If you ever try to contact me, I won’t help you. There will be no inheritance, no support. You mean nothing to me. Understood?”

You felt a tight knot forming in your chest, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a physical force. You nodded once more, the movement slow and deliberate, your small frame trembling slightly under the intensity of his gaze.

Lionel’s expression softened slightly, though not with kindness—more a resigned acceptance of the situation. “Good,” he muttered, standing up and straightening his expensive suit jacket. “Now that we’ve got that clear, we can get through this month without any trouble.”

He turned away, leaving you sitting there on the plush sofa, the grandeur of the mansion around you feeling cold and unwelcoming. As he walked towards the door, Lionel paused, glancing back at you with a mixture of annoyance and mild curiosity.

“Do you even talk?” he asked, his voice tinged with irritation.

You shook your head slowly, your eyes still wide with a mix of fear and uncertainty. Lionel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Figures,” he muttered under his breath, before turning on his heel and striding out of the room.

The heavy door closed behind him with a resounding thud, leaving you alone in the vast, opulent sitting room. The silence was almost suffocating, broken only by the faint ticking of a nearby antique clock. You hugged your blanket tighter, your small body curling into the plush cushions of the sofa as you tried to process the harsh reality of your situation.

Lionel’s words echoed in your mind, their cold finality making it clear that you were nothing more than an unwelcome guest in his world. Despite the grandeur and luxury of your surroundings, the house felt more like a gilded cage, the ornate furnishings and priceless art a stark contrast to the cold indifference of the man who owned them.

As the minutes ticked by, you remained seated on the sofa, your wide eyes taking in the room around you, each luxurious detail a reminder of the vast gulf between you and Lionel. The blanket in your hands, worn and familiar, was the only comfort in this strange, unwelcoming place.

Despite the opulence and grandeur of Lionel Shahbandar’s mansion, the weight of his rules hung heavily in the air, casting a shadow over the lavish surroundings. You had a month to endure, a month of navigating the cold detachment of a man who wanted nothing to do with you. And as the reality of your new life settled in, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were completely, utterly alone in a world that seemed designed to keep you at a distance.

Lionel Shahbandar stood in his opulent office, the room a testament to his vast wealth and refined tastes. Antique furniture, priceless artwork, and a grand mahogany desk filled the space, but Lionel’s mind was too occupied to appreciate any of it. He was pacing, his phone pressed to his ear, his expression a mix of irritation and frustration.

“Pick up, Elizabeth,” he muttered under his breath, his baritone voice carrying a note of urgency. As the phone rang for the third time, he finally heard the familiar click of the line connecting.

“Good afternoon, Lionel,” came the voice on the other end, dripping with its usual blend of cheeky confidence. Elizabeth James, his personal assistant, never missed an opportunity to inject a bit of sass into their conversations. “What can I do for you this fine day? Need me to schedule another ‘business meeting’ at the Savoy?”

Lionel rolled his eyes, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Cut the sarcasm, Elizabeth,” he replied, his tone brusque. “I need you to find me a nanny.”

There was a brief pause, followed by a sharp intake of breath and a barely stifled laugh. “A nanny?” Elizabeth repeated, her voice brimming with incredulity. “Don’t tell me this is another one of your bizarre fetishes, Lionel.”

“No, it’s not a fetish!” Lionel snapped, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “I just found out I have a daughter. Her mother—an old fling—dumped her on my doorstep this morning and left, saying she’d be gone for a month. I need someone to look after the child.”

Elizabeth’s laughter faded, replaced by a tone of unsurprised amusement. “Well, well. I always suspected you’d have a few kids scattered around with the number of affairs you’ve had. I’m just shocked one finally showed up on your doorstep. Only took how many years?”

Lionel’s jaw tightened as he stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing in irritation. “I don’t want to discuss my past, Elizabeth. Just find a nanny. I don’t have time to deal with a child’s… nuisances.”

Elizabeth’s tone turned serious, carrying a hint of reproach. “Lionel, that’s your daughter you’re talking about. Show a little decency. It’s not her fault you were too busy bedding half of Europe to notice you had a kid.”

Lionel let out a sigh, his frustration evident. “I know, I know. But I’m not equipped for this. I need someone to take care of her properly. And make it quick.”

There was a rustling on the other end of the line, likely Elizabeth rifling through her files or pulling up her computer. “Finding a good nanny isn’t like ordering a new suit, Lionel,” she said with a touch of exasperation. “It’s going to take some time, especially one you won’t try to seduce the minute she walks through the door.”

Lionel’s scoff was audible, his expression twisting into a mix of defensiveness and reluctant acknowledgment. “Oh, please, Elizabeth. As if I can’t control myself.”

Elizabeth’s laugh was a sharp, knowing sound. “When it comes to women, Lionel, you’re about as restrained as a lion in a butcher shop. Remember the French maid incident?”

Lionel’s cheeks flushed slightly, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his features. “I never laid a hand on her,” he protested, his tone indignant. “Besides, she was—”

“Only because she slapped you before you could try anything,” Elizabeth interrupted, her voice cutting through his excuses. “And let’s not forget, I’ve been your assistant for longer than any other woman who’s worked for you.”

Lionel sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of resigned frustration. “Yes, and I’ve never tried anything with you.”

“Because I never let you,” Elizabeth countered smoothly. “That’s why I’ve lasted this long. Now, I’ll get started on finding a nanny, but it might take a few days. Meanwhile, try not to scare off your daughter. She’s probably terrified enough as it is.”

Lionel’s expression softened slightly, a rare note of vulnerability creeping into his voice. “Thanks, Elizabeth. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied, her tone softening in kind. “Just remember, Lionel, this is your chance to be more than just an art-collecting Casanova. Try to make the most of it.”

As the call ended, Lionel sank into the leather chair behind his desk, the weight of the situation settling over him like a heavy cloak. His eyes drifted to a small photo on his desk—a rare personal touch in his otherwise meticulously curated office. It was a picture of him and his late mother, taken when he was a boy. Her warm, kind eyes looked out from the frame, a stark contrast to the cold indifference he had shown his own daughter just moments ago.

With a heavy sigh, Lionel leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ornate ceiling. He had always prided himself on his ability to navigate the complexities of the art world with ease, but this—this was an entirely different challenge. A challenge that required more than charm and a keen eye for detail. It required a heart he wasn’t sure he had.

For now, all he could do was wait for Elizabeth to find a suitable nanny. And try, in his own awkward, imperfect way, to bridge the chasm that separated him from the small, silent child who had suddenly become a part of his life.

Lionel, already feeling the weight of his newfound responsibility pressing down on him, decided there was no point in delaying the inevitable. After all, the best way to handle an uncomfortable situation was to dive in headfirst. He stood up, brushing invisible lint from his finely tailored suit, and made his way over to where you sat quietly on the plush sofa.

“Alright,” Lionel said, his baritone voice attempting a semblance of authority. He hesitated for a moment before awkwardly bending down to pick you up. You clutched your blanket tighter, your wide eyes staring up at him with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

As he hoisted you into his arms, Lionel couldn’t help but notice how light you were, how small. It was a foreign sensation, having a child in his care, and he navigated the experience with the grace of a bull in a china shop. He carried you out of the sitting room, down the grand hallway adorned with priceless art, and out to the front entrance where his sleek black Mercedes was parked.

With a mixture of impatience and determination, Lionel strapped you into the backseat, fumbling slightly with the seatbelt. “There we go,” he muttered under his breath, stepping back to admire his handiwork with a small, self-satisfied nod. “Safe and sound.”

Lionel climbed into the driver’s seat, the leather creaking softly under his weight. He pulled out his phone, shooting a quick text to Elizabeth as he started the engine: “Taking the kid to the office. Have a nanny ready.”

The drive to his company was tense, the silence only broken by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional honk from the bustling London streets. Lionel glanced at you through the rearview mirror, your small figure looking even more out of place against the backdrop of his luxurious car.

When they arrived at the company, Lionel parked and quickly made his way around to your side, unbuckling you with a brisk efficiency. “Come on,” he said, grabbing your hand abruptly. You stumbled slightly as he pulled you along, your small feet struggling to keep up with his hurried pace.

As they entered the grand foyer of his company, Lionel’s presence immediately drew attention. Employees exchanged curious glances, whispering behind their hands as they saw their normally composed boss striding in with a child in tow. Lionel ignored the stares, his jaw set with a mix of annoyance and resolve as he marched you to the elevator.

Inside the elevator, the silence was thick, punctuated only by the soft ding of the floors passing by. Lionel glanced down at you, your small hand still clutching the blanket as if it were a lifeline. He sighed, the weight of his decision settling heavily on his shoulders.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the pristine floor of Lionel’s office. Elizabeth James, his ever-efficient personal assistant, was already waiting for them, her clipboard in hand. She greeted Lionel with her usual cheeky grin, but as soon as she saw you, her expression softened, and she quickly moved to your level, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Oh my God!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her tone a mix of delight and disbelief. “How could Lionel have produced something so beautiful?”

Lionel’s brows furrowed as he shot her a puzzled glance. “What’s that supposed to mean, Elizabeth?” he demanded, his voice carrying a note of defensive irritation. “Am I not capable of producing something beautiful?”

Elizabeth didn’t miss a beat. She looked Lionel up and down, her eyes twinkling with playful mischief. “Well, given your track record, Lionel, I’d say it’s a bit surprising,” she quipped. Before Lionel could retort, Elizabeth cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Yes, yes, you’re going to cut my salary. I’ve heard it all before.”

Ignoring Lionel’s growing annoyance, Elizabeth turned her attention back to you, her gaze softening as she knelt down to your level. “Hi there, sweetie,” she said gently, her tone warm and inviting. “Are you hungry?”

You nodded, your small hand clutching your blanket tighter as you stared up at her with wide, innocent eyes. Elizabeth’s smile widened, her heart clearly melting at your shy demeanor. “Let’s get you something to eat, then,” she said, scooping you up into her arms with an ease that contrasted sharply with Lionel’s earlier awkwardness.

As she carried you down the hallway, Elizabeth continued her gentle questioning. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

You remained silent, your fingers playing nervously with the edge of your blanket. Lionel, trailing slightly behind, answered for you, his tone laced with a mix of irritation and resignation. “Her name is [Your Name],” he said, his voice carrying a hint of defensiveness. “She doesn’t talk much. Her mother said she doesn’t speak, and I haven’t heard a word from her all morning.”

Elizabeth nodded, her gaze flicking between you and Lionel with a mixture of understanding and concern. “How old are you?” she asked softly, her voice filled with genuine curiosity and care.

You lifted your hand, showing her four little fingers, your eyes still wide with a mix of fear and uncertainty. Elizabeth’s expression softened even more, her heart clearly going out to you as she carried you towards the office kitchen. “Four years old,” she murmured, her tone a blend of amazement and empathy. “You’re a brave little girl, aren’t you?”

Lionel watched them go, a strange, unfamiliar tightness gripping his chest. For all his bravado and confidence, he felt woefully out of his depth. The reality of caring for a child, of being thrust into a role he had never wanted, was sinking in, and it was a far cry from the world of art deals and luxurious living he was accustomed to.

As he followed Elizabeth and you to the kitchen, Lionel couldn’t shake the feeling that his life had taken a sudden, unexpected turn. And as much as he resisted the idea, he couldn’t help but wonder if, perhaps, this was the beginning of something he was entirely unprepared for.

Elizabeth sat you down in the company’s cafeteria, placing you gently in a high-backed chair with an upholstered cushion. Lionel, still visibly irritated but more composed, took the seat beside you. As you settled in, clutching your blanket tightly, Elizabeth glanced at Lionel with a teasing smirk.

“Fancy a sandwich too, Lionel?” she asked, her tone light and knowing.

Lionel gave a reluctant nod, his usual confidence momentarily overshadowed by the situation. “Yes, I suppose I could use something to eat,” he muttered, running a hand through his meticulously styled hair.

Elizabeth quickly prepared two sandwiches, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. She handed one to you, her eyes warm with sympathy, and placed the other in front of Lionel, her expression a mixture of amusement and curiosity as she observed you both.

You and Lionel, seemingly unaware of each other’s actions, simultaneously began to peel the crust off your sandwiches. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. She found it fascinating that you, despite having never been raised by Lionel, shared his peculiar mannerisms.

As you nibbled on the crustless sandwich, Elizabeth couldn’t resist commenting. “You know, Lionel, it’s quite amusing watching the two of you. Like father, like daughter,” she said, her voice tinged with gentle irony.

Lionel glanced at you, then back at Elizabeth, a faint frown creasing his forehead. “I don’t see what’s so amusing,” he retorted, though a flicker of curiosity crossed his features. “She’s just eating a sandwich.”

Elizabeth chuckled softly, shaking her head. “It’s more than that, Lionel. You both have the same little quirks. It’s fascinating, really.”

Lionel’s eyes narrowed as he considered Elizabeth’s words, a mixture of annoyance and grudging acknowledgment in his gaze. He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s a coincidence,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “She hasn’t been around me long enough to pick up on my habits.”

Elizabeth leaned against the counter, her expression turning serious as she regarded Lionel. “Speaking of habits,” she said, her tone softening, “have you ever taken care of a child before, Lionel?”

Lionel scoffed, his expression hardening. “Of course not,” he replied with a dismissive wave. “I’ve never had any reason to. I’m not exactly the nurturing type.”

Elizabeth’s gaze sharpened, a hint of reproach in her eyes. “Well, it’s not something you can just order from a menu. It takes patience, understanding, and a bit of humility.”

Lionel’s jaw tightened, his irritation resurfacing. “I don’t need a lecture, Elizabeth,” he snapped, though his voice lacked its usual bite. “Just make sure she’s taken care of while I get back to work.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of amusement and challenge. “Oh, so now I’m a nanny too?” she asked, her tone laced with playful sarcasm. “I’ll need a raise for this, you know.”

Lionel rolled his eyes, his irritation evident. “Fine, whatever it takes,” he muttered, waving his hand dismissively. “Just make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.”

Elizabeth’s smile softened, her eyes lingering on you for a moment before she nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on her, Lionel. But remember, she’s not a problem to be managed. She’s a child, and she needs more than just supervision.”

Lionel’s expression flickered, a mixture of frustration and something softer, more uncertain, crossing his features. He stood up, straightening his suit jacket with a sharp tug. “I have work to do,” he said, his tone brusque. “Let me know if anything… comes up.”

As Lionel walked out of the cafeteria, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room, Elizabeth turned her attention back to you, her expression gentle and reassuring. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she said softly, her eyes warm with kindness. “We’ll figure this out together, okay?”

You nodded slowly, the unfamiliar surroundings and the daunting presence of Lionel fading slightly in the face of Elizabeth’s comforting smile. For the first time since arriving at the company, you felt a small flicker of hope, a glimmer of understanding that perhaps, amidst the uncertainty and unfamiliarity, there was someone who truly cared about you.

For the rest of the afternoon, Elizabeth kept a watchful eye on you, her mind abuzz with curiosity and concern. You weren’t like other children she’d encountered. You didn’t wander or explore, but instead, stayed precisely where she left you, quietly perched on the sofa in the company’s waiting room. Your eyes, wide and observant, were fixed on the large screen that displayed an overview of Lionel Shahbandar’s company, complete with images of Lionel in various poses of power and confidence.

The waiting room was a blend of modern elegance and understated luxury, designed to impress visitors with its sleek furnishings and high-tech amenities. The soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional murmur of conversations from passing employees provided a subdued background noise, but you seemed entirely absorbed in the screen, your small hands clutching your blanket with a sort of quiet determination.

Elizabeth observed you for a while, noting how you played with your blanket, twisting and smoothing its fabric in a silent, repetitive rhythm. She finally approached you, her footsteps soft against the polished floor, and crouched down to your level. “Sweetie, do you have any toys with you?” she asked gently, her tone warm and inviting.

You looked up at her, your expression one of mild confusion. Slowly, you pointed to your blanket, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Elizabeth couldn’t help but chuckle softly, shaking her head. “No, not the blanket, darling. Toys. You know, things to play with.”

You blinked at her, your brows furrowing slightly in puzzlement. Elizabeth realized with a pang of sympathy that you might not have any toys at all. “Do you have any toys at home?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

You hesitated for a moment, then pointed to your blanket again, your small face earnest and serious. Elizabeth’s heart ached at the realization that your blanket was likely the only comfort you had known. Determined to remedy the situation, she straightened up and turned to the receptionist sitting at the sleek, modern desk nearby.

“Jessica,” Elizabeth called out, her voice carrying a note of firm authority. “I need you to go to the nearest toy store and pick up a few toys. Get four different ones—something soft, something educational, something for creativity, and something just for fun.”

Jessica, a young woman with neatly styled hair and a crisp uniform, looked up from her computer, her eyes wide with surprise. “But, Ms. James, I—”

Elizabeth cut her off with a sharp snap of her fingers, her gaze steely. “No buts, Jessica. Unless you’re looking to hand in your resignation, I suggest you move quickly. This is a priority.”

Jessica jumped to her feet, her face flushed with a mixture of apprehension and determination. “Yes, ma’am. Right away,” she stammered, hurrying out of the office with a speed that left no doubt about her urgency.

As Jessica disappeared through the glass doors, Elizabeth turned back to you, her expression softening once more. She sat down beside you on the sofa, her eyes kind and reassuring. “We’re going to get you some nice toys, okay?” she said gently. “Something to make you feel more at home.”

You nodded slowly, your eyes flickering with a hint of curiosity. The idea of having toys seemed almost foreign to you, but Elizabeth’s kindness made you feel a little more at ease.

As they waited, Elizabeth kept you company, her presence a comforting contrast to the overwhelming grandeur of Lionel’s office. She asked you simple questions about your favorite colors and animals, and although you responded mostly with nods and shakes of your head, she seemed genuinely interested in understanding you.

When Jessica finally returned, she was carrying several large shopping bags, her face flushed from the quick trip. Elizabeth took the bags from her with a nod of approval. “Good job, Jessica,” she said, her tone brisk but not unkind. “You can go back to your desk now.”

Jessica nodded, looking relieved to escape Elizabeth’s intense scrutiny. As she returned to her post, Elizabeth began to unpack the bags, revealing an assortment of toys that ranged from a plush teddy bear to a colorful set of building blocks. She arranged them carefully on the coffee table in front of you, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of pride and anticipation.

“Here we go,” Elizabeth said, her voice warm and encouraging. “Why don’t you take a look and see if there’s something you like?”

You looked at the toys, your expression a mix of wonder and hesitation. Tentatively, you reached out for the little stuffed lion, your small hands grasping its soft fur with a kind of wary curiosity. Elizabeth watched you with a pleased smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “A lion,” she murmured softly, more to herself than to you. “Definitely Lionel’s daughter.”

The lion was plush and comforting, its mane a bright yellow tuft that you found strangely soothing. You clutched it to your chest, your fingers tracing its soft seams, and for the first time since arriving in this strange new world, a tiny, hesitant smile flickered across your lips. Elizabeth’s own smile widened at the sight, a warmth spreading through her as she observed your tentative connection with the toy.

Leaving you to explore your new treasure, Elizabeth moved to the reception desk, where Jessica was already tapping away at her keyboard. “Jessica,” Elizabeth called, her voice carrying a note of authority but tempered with kindness. Jessica looked up, a mixture of apprehension and eagerness on her face.

“How much did you spend on the toys?” Elizabeth asked, pulling her wallet from her bag. Jessica quickly retrieved the receipt, her hands trembling slightly as she handed it over. Elizabeth glanced at the total, her expression thoughtful. She pulled out the exact amount in cash, along with a small bonus, and handed it to Jessica. “Good job,” she said, her tone firm but approving. “You did well. This should cover it.”

Jessica’s eyes widened in surprise and gratitude as she took the money. “Thank you, Ms. James,” she stammered, her voice filled with relief. Elizabeth nodded, her attention already drifting back to where you sat, cradling the stuffed lion.

Meanwhile, you continued to stare in wonder at the toy in your arms, your fingers brushing over its soft mane and down its plush back. The lion felt like a small piece of magic in an otherwise bewildering day, a tiny anchor in the overwhelming sea of opulence and unfamiliar faces.

As you clung to your new stuffed friend, the blanket still wrapped around you like a shield, a sense of calm began to settle over you. The toys spread out before you seemed to promise a world of possibilities, a small sanctuary within the grandeur of Lionel’s office. Elizabeth’s kind presence and the simple, comforting lion gave you a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty, a tiny spark of something resembling security in the daunting expanse of your new surroundings.

At the end of the day, Elizabeth carried you out of the building, her arms securely wrapped around you as she walked beside Lionel toward his sleek black Mercedes. Lionel strolled with an air of indifference, his eyes glued to his cell phone, occasionally glancing up to avoid obstacles but otherwise completely absorbed in his digital world.

As they approached the car, Elizabeth’s expression shifted from mild annoyance to stern determination. She cast a sideways glance at Lionel, who was nonchalantly typing away on his phone. “Lionel,” she began, her voice firm, “you need to take good care of her. She’s not just some inconvenience you can ignore. Take her straight home, give her a bath, and make sure she eats something. She’s been through enough for one day.”

Lionel didn’t even look up from his phone, waving his hand dismissively as if to shoo away an annoying fly. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his tone dismissive. “I’ll handle it. No need to worry, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth’s jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing in frustration. She reached the car and opened the backseat door, her gaze immediately falling on the conspicuous lack of a child seat. Her eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat. “Lionel, are you out of your mind?” she demanded, her voice rising with incredulity. “There’s no car seat! Did you drive her here without one?”

Lionel finally looked up from his phone, his brows furrowing in genuine confusion. “A car seat? She was fine,” he replied, a touch of irritation creeping into his baritone voice. “What’s the big deal?”

Elizabeth’s face flushed with a mix of anger and disbelief. “The big deal is that it’s dangerous and irresponsible!” she snapped, her voice laced with barely contained fury. “Do you want her to get hurt? You can’t just put a child in the backseat without proper safety!”

Lionel rolled his eyes, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance. “Alright, alright,” he grumbled, pocketing his phone and moving to inspect the backseat himself. “I’ll get one tomorrow. It’s not like I knew she’d show up today.”

Elizabeth shook her head, her frustration evident as she secured you as best she could in the backseat, her hands gentle but firm. She looked up at Lionel, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and concern. “You’re her father now, Lionel, whether you like it or not. You need to start acting like it. Her safety is your responsibility.”

Lionel sighed, rubbing the bridge of his hooked nose as if to stave off a headache. “Fine, I’ll get the damn car seat,” he muttered, a note of reluctant acknowledgment in his voice. “Now, can we just get going?”

Elizabeth’s expression softened slightly, her eyes lingering on you as she closed the car door carefully. “Take care of her, Lionel,” she said quietly, her tone carrying a note of earnest pleading. “She needs you, even if she doesn’t say it.”

Lionel’s lips curled into a wry, almost self-mocking smile as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “I’ll do my best,” he replied, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced of his own words. He started the car, glancing back at you in the rearview mirror. “Ready to go, kid?”

You nodded silently, your eyes wide and somber, clutching your blanket and the plush lion tightly as the car pulled away from the curb. As the opulent office building receded into the distance, Lionel couldn’t help but feel the weight of Elizabeth’s words pressing down on him, mingling with his own reluctance and uncertainty about the daunting responsibility now thrust upon him.

As they drove through the busy London streets, Lionel’s mind churned with thoughts of the day’s events, the realization slowly sinking in that his life had irrevocably changed. The little girl in the backseat, silent and observant, was now a part of his world, whether he was ready for it or not. And for the first time in a long while, Lionel Shahbandar, the confident, womanizing art tycoon, felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—a sense of duty, tinged with a reluctant curiosity about the small, quiet presence that had unexpectedly entered his life.

Lionel Shahbandar stood in the doorway of the lavish bathroom, his hand resting on the ornate gold doorknob as he watched you splash timidly in the enormous claw-footed bathtub. The bathroom, like the rest of his mansion, was a testament to opulence—marble floors, intricate tile work, and a chandelier that glimmered overhead. He had filled the tub with warm water and a bit of lavender-scented soap, the bubbles rising like soft clouds around you.

“Can you manage on your own?” Lionel asked, his voice carrying a note of impatience. You nodded, clutching your blanket, which was now set aside on a chair nearby, and turned your attention to the bubbles, your small fingers poking and swirling them.

“Good,” Lionel muttered, half to himself, and walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar. He headed to your backpack, left earlier by Valerie, and rummaged through its contents with a scowl. The bag yielded a few well-worn clothes, two pairs of shoes, and a pacifier. Lionel held up the pacifier, his brows knitting together in a mixture of surprise and distaste. “A pacifier?” he grumbled under his breath, tossing it aside with a flick of his wrist. “Surely she doesn’t still use this.”

He picked out a pair of pajamas—simple and a bit too worn for his taste—and set them on the counter. He glanced back towards the bathroom, where you were splashing gently, your silhouette barely visible through the frosted glass door of the tub. With a resigned sigh, Lionel went downstairs to prepare dinner, deciding to throw together a simple meal—something easy and quick.

As he moved through the grand, marble-tiled kitchen, gathering ingredients, his phone buzzed on the counter. Lionel glanced at the screen, recognizing the number of a colleague he had been trying to win over for months. The notification was an invitation to meet at a nearby bar—a chance to finally close a long-awaited business deal. His eyes gleamed with the thrill of opportunity.

Lionel’s lips curled into a sly smile as he quickly typed a response, agreeing to meet. He tossed his phone aside and abandoned his half-prepared meal, the remnants of his culinary effort left scattered on the sleek granite countertop. Without missing a beat, he strode back upstairs, his footsteps echoing through the cavernous halls.

He found you still in the bathroom, now out of the tub and struggling to put on the pajamas he had picked out. Lionel’s initial annoyance softened slightly as he saw you fumbling with the unfamiliar clothing. He knelt beside you, his hands surprisingly gentle as he helped you into the pajamas, his movements swift and efficient. “There you go,” he murmured, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic note of patience. “Let’s get these on properly.”

Once you were dressed, Lionel retrieved the shoes from your backpack. They were scuffed and too small, but he slipped them onto your feet nonetheless. “We’re going out,” he said, his tone brisk and authoritative. “You need to behave.”

You glanced up at him, your eyes wide with a mixture of uncertainty and mild confusion. Your small hand pointed to your belly, a silent indication of hunger. Lionel’s brow furrowed briefly, a flicker of guilt passing over his features. He ignored it, standing up and scooping you into his arms. “We’ll eat later,” he said dismissively, carrying you out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

The cool evening air hit you as Lionel carried you out to the sleek black Mercedes. He strapped you into the backseat with an efficiency that belied his inexperience with children, his expression a mix of determination and impatience. “Remember,” he said, glancing back at you with a stern look, “no trouble. I have an important meeting.”

As the car sped through the bustling streets of London, Lionel’s mind was already racing ahead to the night’s events, the prospect of sealing the deal overshadowing the small, silent presence in the backseat. You stared out of the window, clutching your blanket and the plush lion tightly, the city lights flashing by in a blur. For Lionel, the night was another opportunity to secure his empire, but for you, it was just another bewildering chapter in the strange and unfamiliar world you had been thrust into.

The bar was a sleek, modern establishment, its dim lighting and polished décor exuding a sense of understated sophistication. Lionel parked the car and turned to you, his expression a mixture of irritation and reluctant resolve. “Stay close,” he ordered, unbuckling your seatbelt and lifting you out of the car. “And remember what I said about behaving.”

You nodded, clutching your blanket and the plush lion even tighter as he carried you into the bar. The hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses surrounded you, the unfamiliar sounds and sights making you cling to Lionel’s jacket with a mix of fear and uncertainty.

Lionel’s colleague, a slick, well-dressed man with a practiced smile, greeted him with a hearty laugh. “Lionel! Good to see you. And who’s this little one?” he asked, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow.

Lionel’s smile was tight, his grip on you firm as he responded. “Just a family matter,” he said smoothly, waving off the question. “Shall we discuss business?”

The colleague’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded, leading Lionel to a secluded corner table. As they settled in, Lionel set you down beside him, his eyes narrowing in warning as he leaned in close. “Stay quiet,” he whispered, his tone sharp. “This is important.”

You nodded, your eyes wide and somber as you clung to your blanket and lion, your small frame tucked into the shadow of Lionel’s presence. The night wore on, the voices around you blurring into a low hum, and you sat quietly, the weight of Lionel’s expectations pressing down on you like a heavy, invisible cloak.

As the minutes ticked by in the bar, Lionel began to drink more heavily, one glass of scotch turning into two, then three. The business discussion quickly gave way to casual conversation and flirtation. Lionel’s colleague seemed equally relaxed, laughing and joking as the evening wore on. The waitresses, noticing Lionel’s change in demeanor, began to linger at the table, giggling and responding to his flirtatious remarks.

You sat silently beside Lionel, your small hands clutching the plush lion and your blanket. The noise of the music and the hum of conversation felt overwhelming, the unfamiliar sounds pressing in on you from all sides. Your stomach growled painfully, a sharp reminder that you hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your eyes darting between the plates of food being carried by waitresses and the bar counter where bowls of peanuts sat just out of reach.

Desperation gnawed at you, and you looked up at Lionel, your eyes wide and pleading. You poked his arm gently, pointing at your belly to indicate your hunger. Lionel, engrossed in his conversation with a young, attractive waitress, barely glanced your way. “Not now, kid,” he muttered, waving his hand dismissively. His attention quickly returned to the waitress, his baritone voice dropping to a flirtatious purr as he complimented her on her smile.

The pangs of hunger grew more intense, and tears welled up in your eyes as you realized Lionel wasn’t going to help you. The room seemed to grow louder, the clinking of glasses and the laughter around you becoming a cacophony that pressed against your ears. You felt a lump form in your throat, a mixture of fear and frustration bubbling up inside you.

Summoning all the courage you could muster, you slid off the chair, your small feet hitting the floor with a soft thud. You clutched your blanket and the plush lion tightly, the soft fur a small comfort amidst the chaos of the bar. Keeping your head down, you weaved through the crowd, your eyes scanning for any sign of food within reach.

People glanced at you as you passed, their curious gazes making you feel even smaller and more out of place. You ignored them, your focus solely on finding something to eat. The bar counter loomed ahead, the bowls of peanuts perched tantalizingly on top. You approached it, craning your neck to see the salty snacks just out of reach.

Determined, you stretched up on your tiptoes, your fingers straining towards the bowl. It was no use; the counter was too high, and your small frame couldn’t bridge the gap. Tears of frustration pricked at your eyes as you dropped back onto your heels, staring up at the peanuts with a mixture of longing and despair.

As you stood there, a waitress with a kind face noticed your struggle. She crouched down beside you, her eyes soft with understanding. “Are you hungry, sweetie?” she asked gently, her voice a soothing contrast to the noise around you.

You nodded, unable to speak, the ache in your stomach and the overwhelming noise rendering you mute. The waitress gave you a sympathetic smile and reached up, grabbing a handful of peanuts from the bowl. She placed them in a napkin and handed them to you, her eyes warm with kindness. “Here you go,” she said softly. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

You took the napkin with trembling hands, your eyes wide with gratitude. Clutching the peanuts and your blanket tightly, you nodded, managing a small, tearful smile. The waitress patted your head gently before standing up and returning to her work.

You found a quiet corner near the bar and sat down on the floor, your back against the wall. As you nibbled on the peanuts, the noise of the bar faded into the background, the small comfort of food easing the sharp ache in your stomach. You hugged your plush lion and your blanket close, the familiar textures grounding you amidst the overwhelming chaos.

Meanwhile, Lionel continued his flirtatious banter with the waitresses, his laughter echoing through the bar. He didn’t notice your absence, too absorbed in his own amusement and the thrill of the chase. His colleague occasionally glanced over, raising an eyebrow at Lionel’s antics but saying nothing. The night wore on, and Lionel’s attention remained firmly fixed on the women around him, his responsibilities forgotten in favor of fleeting pleasures.

You sat quietly in your corner, the peanuts a small solace in the overwhelming noise and confusion of the bar. The minutes stretched into hours, the night growing darker outside the bar’s windows. As you huddled there, alone and unnoticed, the weight of your situation settled heavily on your small shoulders, a stark reminder of the uncertain world you now found yourself in.

As the night wore on, you became increasingly sleepy. The chaos and noise of the bar had overwhelmed you, and the peanuts, while a small comfort, weren’t enough to stave off your exhaustion. With the plush lion clutched tightly in your arms, you laid your blanket on the floor and curled up on it, using it as an improvised pillow. You fell asleep quickly, your small body seeking solace amidst the confusion and noise, the softness of your blanket and lion the only anchors in this unfamiliar world.

Meanwhile, Lionel was fully absorbed in his flirtation. A waitress had made her way onto his lap, her laughter mingling with his own as they exchanged playful banter. His focus on her was intense, his usual sharp wit now softened by the haze of alcohol. His colleague, watching the spectacle with a bemused expression, eventually stood up and adjusted his tie, preparing to leave.

"I think I'm heading out, Lionel," the colleague announced, his voice cutting through the din of the bar. Lionel, his eyes still fixed on the waitress, waved him off with a dismissive gesture.

"Go on, then," Lionel replied, his baritone voice slurring slightly, "I’ll manage."

The colleague paused, his gaze shifting around the bar. "Didn't you come here with a child?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in concern.

Lionel froze, the realization hitting him like a splash of cold water. "Damn it," he muttered, his expression shifting from smug amusement to panicked frustration. He pushed the waitress off his lap unceremoniously, his movements clumsy and disoriented. "Where the hell is she?"

He stumbled to his feet, his eyes darting around the bar, the room spinning slightly as the effects of the alcohol clouded his vision. "Hey! Kid!" he called out, his voice loud and urgent, drawing a few curious glances from nearby patrons. "Where are you?"

Lionel staggered through the bar, his vision blurred as he scanned the crowded room. His heart pounded with a mixture of panic and annoyance, the realization that he had lost track of you adding to his frustration. He cursed under his breath, his eyes finally settling on your small figure curled up on the floor in a quiet corner, fast asleep on your makeshift pillow.

"Of all the places," Lionel grumbled, rolling his eyes as he stumbled toward you. "Didn’t I tell you to stay close?" His voice was a mixture of irritation and reluctant relief as he bent down, shaking your shoulder to wake you. "Hey, wake up. We’re leaving."

You stirred, your eyes fluttering open to the sight of Lionel’s scowling face. The noise and lights of the bar were disorienting, and you felt a wave of confusion and fear as he grabbed your hand roughly, dragging you to your feet. You clutched your blanket and lion tightly, your wide eyes blinking against the harsh lights.

Lionel pulled you toward the exit, his steps unsteady as he navigated the crowded bar. Just as you reached the door, a sudden barrage of flashing lights greeted you. Paparazzi, alerted to Lionel’s presence, had gathered outside, their cameras snapping furiously. The barrage of questions and flashing lights was overwhelming, the reporters shouting over one another in their eagerness to capture the scene.

"Lionel! Who’s the child?"

"Is she your daughter?"

"Care to explain, Mr. Shahbandar?"

The rapid-fire questions and bright flashes were disorienting, and you began to cry, the intensity of the moment too much for your young mind to process. The lights and noise were overwhelming, and you buried your face in your blanket, the plush lion clutched tightly in your arms as you sobbed.

Lionel swore loudly, his patience fraying under the scrutiny of the paparazzi. "Back off!" he snapped, his baritone voice laced with frustration. He scooped you up into his arms, his grip tight as he tried to shield you from the flashing cameras. "This is none of your damn business!"

The reporters pressed closer, their cameras clicking furiously as they tried to get a better shot. Lionel pushed through the throng, his irritation mounting with each step. He turned his back to the cameras, trying to shield you from the worst of the flashes, but it was clear that the situation was spiraling out of control.

"Get out of my way!" Lionel shouted, his voice rising in a rare display of anger. He elbowed his way through the crowd, his movements clumsy and erratic. You clung to him tightly, your small body trembling with fear as the bright lights and loud voices swirled around you.

Finally, Lionel managed to reach the car, fumbling with the keys as he struggled to unlock the door. He practically shoved you into the backseat, his own frustration boiling over as he climbed into the driver’s seat. The paparazzi continued to snap photos, their cameras pressing against the windows as Lionel started the engine with a snarl of irritation.

"Enough already!" he roared, slamming the car into gear and pulling away from the curb with a screech of tires. The flashes of the cameras faded into the distance as the car sped through the dark streets, the noise and chaos of the bar finally left behind.

Inside the car, you huddled in the backseat, your sobs quieting to soft hiccups as the city lights blurred past the windows. Lionel’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw set with a mixture of anger and exasperation. The night’s events had spiraled far beyond his control, and the weight of the responsibility now thrust upon him was a burden he had never anticipated.

As the car sped through the night, Lionel glanced at you in the rearview mirror, your small form curled up in the backseat, clutching your blanket and lion. His expression softened slightly, a flicker of something resembling regret crossing his features. For all his bravado and confidence, the reality of his situation was beginning to sink in, and it was clear that his life, and yours, had been irrevocably changed.

Lionel woke up with a groan the next morning, the sunlight filtering through the heavy curtains of his opulent bedroom. His head pounded with the aftereffects of a night spent drinking, and he rubbed his temples, trying to fend off the pain. Just as he began to drift back into a fitful sleep, a sharp slap on his back jolted him awake.

“What the—” Lionel grumbled, turning to see Elizabeth standing over him, her eyes blazing with fury. She held a rolled-up magazine in her hand, her knuckles white with the intensity of her grip.

“Get up, you idiot!” Elizabeth snapped, landing another swat with the magazine on Lionel’s shoulder. “What the hell were you thinking, taking your daughter to a bar?”

Lionel winced, flinching away from the blows. “Ow, stop it!” he protested, trying to shield himself with the covers. “What’s your problem, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line as she continued to brandish the magazine. “My problem?” she echoed, her voice dripping with incredulity. “My problem is you, Lionel! You’re in every gossip rag in the country, and everyone’s speculating about who that little girl is!”

Lionel blinked, his hangover-clouded mind struggling to keep up. “How do you know about this?” he demanded, a note of genuine curiosity in his voice.

With a snarl of frustration, Elizabeth unfurled the magazine she had been hitting him with, thrusting it in his face. “Look!” she barked, her voice rising. “It’s everywhere! You, leaving the bar with [Your Name]. You’ve made a spectacle of yourself and her!”

Lionel squinted at the glossy pages, his eyes slowly focusing on the grainy photos of him stumbling out of the bar, carrying you in his arms. The paparazzi had captured the chaos in all its sordid detail: Lionel’s disheveled appearance, his slurred attempts to shield you from the cameras, your tear-streaked face buried in your blanket.

Elizabeth continued her tirade, her voice climbing higher with each accusation. “You’re in the tabloids, the morning news, every damn gossip show! People are speculating who she is, if she’s yours, and how on earth you thought it was a good idea to take a child to a bar!”

Lionel rolled his eyes, his annoyance eclipsing his guilt as he settled back against the pillows. “So what?” he muttered, waving a dismissive hand. “What’s one scandal on top of several? I’m already the bad boy of the art world. What’s another headline?”

Elizabeth’s face turned an alarming shade of red, her eyes flashing with barely contained rage. “You don’t get it, do you?” she hissed, grabbing his ear and twisting it sharply. Lionel yelped, trying to pull away from her iron grip.

“Alright, alright! Let go!” Lionel protested, his voice tinged with pain. “What do you want me to do?”

Elizabeth released his ear with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest as she fixed him with a steely glare. “You’re going to apologize, publicly,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “You’ll hold a press conference, admit you made a mistake, and apologize for taking your daughter to a bar. You need to set things right.”

Lionel’s hand rubbed his throbbing ear as he shot her a petulant look. “You must be joking,” he scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m not apologizing to anyone. They’ll just have to deal with it.”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and she leaned in, her face inches from his. “If you don’t fix this, Lionel, you’ll be dealing with a lot more than just gossip. This isn’t about you anymore. It’s about that little girl you’ve dragged into your mess.”

Lionel’s defiant gaze wavered, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. He opened his mouth to retort, but Elizabeth cut him off with a sharp gesture, pointing a finger at his chest. “You will apologize,” she repeated, her voice a low, fierce whisper. “Or so help me, I’ll quit, and you can deal with this disaster on your own.”

Lionel’s face twisted into a scowl, his usual bravado faltering under Elizabeth’s unwavering glare. “Fine,” he grumbled, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll do your stupid press conference. Happy now?”

Elizabeth’s expression softened slightly, though her eyes still blazed with determination. “Not until you actually follow through,” she replied, her voice firm but less harsh. “You need to start acting like a father, Lionel. [Your Name] deserves better.”

Lionel grumbled under his breath as he slid out of bed, his movements slow and reluctant. “Cutting your salary for this,” he muttered, a petulant note in his baritone voice as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Elizabeth’s lips curled into a wry smile as she watched him. “You can try,” she shot back, her tone laced with dry humor. “But we both know you need me more than I need you.”

Lionel glared at her, but the sharp retort died on his lips as he realized the truth of her words. With a heavy sigh, he shuffled towards the bathroom, the weight of the day’s responsibilities pressing down on his shoulders.

As he splashed cold water on his face, Lionel stared at his reflection in the mirror, the sharp angles of his features softened by the morning light. The man who gazed back at him was a far cry from the confident, womanizing tycoon he prided himself on being. For the first time in a long while, Lionel felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—an uneasy blend of guilt, responsibility, and a reluctant resolve to set things right.

[zealouswerewolfcollector]

A Tale That Wasn't Right

Belated entry for @silmarillionepistolary

2406 words, M, Maedhros/Fingon

Warnings: violence but not very graphic

On Ao3

NOLDÓRAN ARCHIVES PROJECT

MANUSCRIPT 26328-lambe

Records of the Hearing Convened by Finwë Noldóran Concerning the Incident Occurred Between Two Highborn Eldar

Editor’s note: Perhaps one of the most fascinating manuscripts among the royal records, 26328-lambe has been classified for Ages. Only now, well into the Fifth Age, it has finally been released to the public. 

Certainly, the reluctance to publicize these records must be due to the scandalous subject matter and the involvement of highly recognizable figures of the Years of the Trees. We shall refrain from speculations as to the identity of the involved parties and redact or change several identifying details as per the request of King Arafinwë.

The manuscript is also distinguished because of the considerably biased notes of the unnamed scribe, possibly one who did not continue their service for long. Despite their unconventional approach to their role, we have this scribe to thank for the preservation of the very first draft of the records.

Without further ado, we invite the reader to peruse the records and draw their own conclusions.  

At the second hour of the Mingling of [precise date omitted], the Noldóran convened a private hearing, concerning an altercation between two highborn Eldar that has been brought to the Noldóran’s attention. 

Present at the meeting

Finwë Noldóran

[redacted], tavernkeeper of the tavern [redacted] in Tirion

Finwë Noldóran’s humble scribe

Noldóran: Let us begin. Tavernkeeper, I would hear all that occurred between [title omitted] N and [title omitted] F.

Tavernkeeper: Where should I begin, lord?

Noldóran: When did you first notice their presence at your tavern?

Tavernkeeper: Immediately, lord. It was the first time such highborn lords visited my establishment. [Title omitted] F was the first to arrive. He sat in a corner and ordered [drink name omitted to avoid identification]. I did not know how to make it. He kindly explained it to me. He was three cups in when [title omitted] N joined him.

Editor’s note: Henceforth, the omission of the titles will not be mentioned. Let it be noted that the involved parties were addressed appropriately throughout the hearing.

Noldóran: Did you notice any enmity between them when N arrived?

Tavernkeeper: Not at all! F did look ill-pleased at seeing N, but I assumed it was due to N’s tardiness. N whispered something into F’s ear, which seemed to appease him.

Noldóran: How so?

Tavernkeeper: After, well, the whispering, F smiled and ordered more drinks. [Drink name omitted] for himself again and simple mead for N.

Scribe’s note: Only a son of [redacted] would drink such an abomination. 

Noldóran: Could you perhaps hear parts of their conversation?

Tavernkeeper: I would not presume to eavesdrop on a conversation between such highborn lords.

Noldóran: Not even if it was to the benefit of your king?

Tavernkeeper: Alas, the tavern was busy, lord, and they spoke in very low voices, so I missed the beginning of their discussion.

Noldóran: So you mean to say you heard the ending, the part before the incident.

Scribe’s note: If this tavernkeeper does not hurry up and tell the interesting  parts, I may die of boredom in front of the King and embarrass myself and my entire family.

Tavernkeeper: They stayed long after the tavern emptied. I must say, lord, they had drunk quite a lot, so their voices were raised. I did not eavesdrop on purpose.

Noldóran: I do not fault you, tavernkeeper. Do recount the argument arising between N and F.

Editor’s note: To make for easier reading, the argument is relayed here directly. Readers must trust that they shall miss only a great amount of hesitation by the tavernkeeper to report to the King the exact details of the conversation and the number of drinks N and F consumed meanwhile, which is high.

F: It has always been your greatest fault! N: Loyalty? F: Loyalty to the wrong person. N: Who would the right person be then? [long silence] N: It is not in your nature to avoid a question. F: Why speak if you know the answer well? N: You cannot fathom what you demand of me. F: Only to do the right thing. Is it too much to ask for? N: Ever you have shown nothing but contempt to my father. You do not know him as I do. F: You are blind to his faults. N: I am not. But, unlike you, I am familiar with his virtues, too. F: Any virtue he possesses pales before his vices. N: Is it not unfair to speak so when you have made no attempt to understand him? F: He deserves none. N: Do I? Do it for my sake. I would do it for you. I have done it for you. F: It was not for me. You had taken a liking to my father long before I was born. He is easy to love. N: How naive for someone who claims to know others with no effort. You say I am blind to my father’s faults, yet you see none in yours. F: He has none. N: I can name one. Just now, he made you lie to me and to yourself. F: My father is blameless in this! N: Of course, only mine is to blame for everything. F: What is the use of seeing his faults if you do nothing about them? N: What do you expect me to do? F: I told you. The right thing. N: Why did you summon me here? We are only repeating ourselves again and again. We shall never agree. F: If only you were less stubborn. N: I am no more stubborn than you. Why should I be the one to relent? What will you sacrifice? F: Have I not sacrificed enough? Have I not endured your father’s scorn without protest? Have I not stayed by your side through all of it? N: What a great sacrifice it must be for you to stay by my side! Have you overlooked that I did the same? Or perhaps you believe it is easier for me? F: If it is not, then we both know who to blame. I suppose I must be grateful you have gathered enough courage to even agree to speak with me. Have you told your father where you will be? N: Have you told yours? F: You give me no answer as expected, but I shall answer you. I have not only because my father has no perverse need to keep watch over his children’s every move. He is not cowardly enough to look for betrayal where there is none. N: You will not call my father a coward! Have I ever treated your father with such disdain? F: Why would you? He does not deserve it. N: But mine does? F: Doesn’t someone who belittles others to hide his own weakness, who is craven��enough to forge weapons in secret, deserve to be treated with contempt? N: Do not speak so, I warn you. F: What will you do? Leave and shun me as always? Disregard my letters and flee when I try to visit? Run to your father to assure him of your loyalty, so you can stave off his bitterness and suspicion for a while longer? 

Noldóran: Do go on! What happened then?

Tavernkeeper: I hesitate, lord, for even now, I can scarcely believe it.

Noldóran: Nevertheless, I would hear it.

Tavernkeeper: After those words, N, well, he struck F.

Noldóran: Struck him?

Tavernkeeper: He did. A mighty fist against F’s jaw.

Noldóran: Are you certain that it was N who struck first?

Tavernkeeper: Quite certain, lord. I must say I had lost count of the cups they had both drunk by that point.

Scribe’s note: Liar! It does not sound like N. Although, the son of [redacted] would have deserved it.

Noldóran: Please continue. Spare no detail.

Tavernkeeper: The blow was strong enough that F fell from his chair. They both looked as astounded as I was. I thought N wished to offer a hand to F, but instead, he turned back and moved to the door. That was when F pounced on him and brought him down. They tumbled together, grappled, and shoved each other against the walls. They damaged five chairs and two tables during their brawl as well as all the cups and plates that were on them. F twisted N’s wrist in an attempt to restrain him, but N wrapped F’s braids around his other hand and wrenched him away. They were on the floor once again by then. N tried to rise, but F took a broken chair leg and hurled it towards N. It hit the mark rather painfully. In response, N threw a half-empty goblet at F, which missed his head but drenched his hair in ale.

Editor’s note: The sketch of King Finwë with his head in his hands is presumably drawn by the scribe.

Noldóran: What then?

Tavernkeeper: They must have exhausted themselves because they remained lying on the floor for a while. I was afraid to approach them, but I also hesitated to leave in case they resumed their fight.

Noldóran: Did they?

Tavernkeeper: No… They did something else.

Noldóran: …what was it?

Tavernkeeper: F sat and helped N up. N said something to F in a very low voice. F answered. I could not hear the words. And then they… They kissed, lord.

Noldóran: A kiss between friends?

Tavernkeeper: I would not say so.

Scribe’s note: This does sound like N.

Noldóran: Did you see what happened after the so-called kiss?

Tavernkeeper: No, lord. I hurried to leave. That was all I saw, I swear.

Noldóran: Thank you, tavernkeeper. I believe it goes without saying that what we have spoken about must remain within the walls of this hall. Of course, you shall be compensated generously for your losses. Scribe, there is no need to record this part.

Scribe: As you command, Noldóran.

Tavernkeeper: No word shall leave my lips, lord.

Noldóran: You have my gratitude.

Scribe’s note: Future generations of the Noldor, I shall have your gratitude for making and preserving these records. Glory to the House of [redacted]!

***

Fingers run between disheveled braids, smoothing them with gentleness in stark contrast with the violence they had yanked at them. Inhale. The faint perfume of almond oil wafts through the heavy scent of ale. They do not mix well. Maitimo says so.

“Who could have guessed?” Findekáno says dryly.

Maitimo’s fingers continue their tender way through Findekáno’s braids. Findekáno closes his eyes, his head turning where Maitimo guides him, willingly this time.

Languidly, he raises a hand and runs it – feather-light – across Maitimo’s face, across his left cheekbone where a hideous bruise is already forming.

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

“Yes.”

Findekáno leans forward and retraces the path of his fingers with his lips, leaving a faint trail of red across Maitimo’s cheekbone. Maitimo’s eyes fall shut, his breath stutters. Findekáno takes Maitimo’s hand – the same one that split his lip open – and kisses the bloodied knuckles. Maitimo’s fingers entwine with Findekáno’s – a movement so familiar and practiced that it is almost an instinct.

Findekáno raises his head and presses his lips to Maitimo’s, but the moment Maitimo deepens the kiss, Findekáno pulls back with a hiss.

“It is bleeding again,” Maitimo says with dismay.

He takes a dampened rag and taps it tenderly against Findekáno’s lip, careful to avoid touching his bruised jaw. But Findekáno leans into his hand, his eyelids fluttering in something between pain and relief.

Maitimo undresses him, runs his fingers along his shoulders, caresses his chest, strokes his hips. Bruises are late to bloom and hard to find on Findekáno’s skin, unlike Maitimo, who is already painted red and purple. But Maitimo knows exactly where he had hurt Findekáno – an elbow to the sternum, a closed fist beneath the ribs, shoulders slammed against the edge of a table too many times.

Maitimo explores Findekáno’s body with hesitant touches, soothes his aches, brushes his fingers against the bruises. Does not apologize. The sound of Findekáno’s harsh breathing grows louder and louder until he grabs Maitimo’s hands and turns in his arms.

He bares Maitimo from the waist up in pained, hurried movements as if there is no time left. Maitimo winces when he raises his arms to allow Findekáno to disrobe him.

“Oh!” Findekáno exclaims, staring at the fresh bruise that covers most of Maitimo’s lower rib cage.

“Even inebriated, your aim is true,” Maitimo says.

Findekáno sinks down. Raises a hand to the bruise, then lets it fall. Leans forward and traces the uneven edges of the bruise with his lips, warms it up with his breath, soothes it with his tongue. Does not apologize.

Findekáno begins the work of relieving Maitimo of the rest of his clothing. Maitimo’s hands shake, then his knees, then his shoulders. Findekáno’s lips slide lower, ghost over Maitimo’s groin.

“You did not hurt me there,” Maitimo says, his voice coming out as bruised as his body is.

“How fortunate I still had some sense left,” Findekáno says.

Maitimo laughs, and for the briefest of moments, all pieces fall into their places – Findekáno before him, teasing him gently, making him laugh – so familiar and so right. But the tremors of laughter reach every aching place, reminding him sharply of what they did.

“Wait,” he says.

“Hush,” Findekáno says, holding Maitimo by his unhurt hip.

Maitimo looks down at Findekáno, kneeling on his bruised knees, looks at Findekáno’s swollen lip and beaten face.

“Who would do this?” he asks.

Findekáno draws back.

“Who hurts someone he loves and cherishes in such a cruel way?” Maitimo asks.

“You do,” Findekáno says. His gaze slowly passes over all the angry red marks he has left on Maitimo’s body. “And I.”

Maitimo sits before him.

“Will you swear it will never happen again?” he asks. “Can you give me your word that you will not do it again?”

Findekáno is silent for a moment.

“You cannot either,” he says then.

“No.”

“It is not right.”

“No.”

Findekáno leans his forehead against Maitimo’s. There is a small but painful bump on it from hitting it against a chair. It aches.

“You should leave,” Findekáno says.

“I should.”

“So should I.”

“Yes.”

They sit before each other, bare and bruised, hand in hand, skin to skin, amid the broken cups and chairs, amid the destruction they caused. None moves. 

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Okay i lied , im not cutting off yandere sources cause i need Yves to cope with the high stress.

So here's some Yves content at the supermarket

Yves pays close attention to how and where your eyes linger at. Especially at grocery or other retail stores where there are a wide variety of objects. He notes down what catches your attention first, next and last, what caused you to do a double take and for how long. What colour, what texture, what shape and etcetera etcetera. He keeps count and remembers the sequences too.

It's fascinating, your habits change depending on the lighting, temperature, humidity, atmospheric pressure, smell and loudness of the area. Even the feeling of the flooring beneath your shoes would affect the duration you're willing to look at a product.

Yves would pretend to check the nutritional information of an item that claims to be "healthy" and "organic". But in actuality, he's watching you; do not underestimate his peripheral vision, it's almost as if he has eyes on the back of his head.

He would get a small rush of excitement whenever he predicts your next move successfully, shock and slightly more delightful when he's wrong; because that means he has discovered something new about you and must document his findings immediately.

How strange, you're exhibiting signs of under stimulation despite the fact that supermarkets usually fulfill your sensory needs, most of the time, overloading you. So Yves peruses the aisles even more, letting his heels clack against the tiled floors, pushing the shopping cart slowly and observing if the extra disturbances around you will do anything to your predicament.

But no, you're still uncomfortable. How interesting, how can Yves help you? He's dying to know, but he must run multiple tests discretely to find out.

However, before he could proceed, you walked up to him and stared at Yves in the eyes.

He replaced the can of diced tomatoes back onto the metal shelf before peering down at you. Yves intentionally chose to wear one of his taller heels to create that subconscious "guardian" role, making him ridiculously tall.

"Yes, dear?" He asked, bringing his fingers to your hair, gently brushing them away from your face. This seems to improve your mood, it made his heart skip a beat when he realized that you were craving for his touch.

You told him that it's nothing, you just wanted to see him.

Now that's not true, you wanted more but you're too shy and nervous to outright ask for it.

Yves smiled, softly coaxing you closer to his side, which made you automatically cling onto him and bury your head in his torso. Yves stroked your back rhythmically up and down.

While he lets you recharge in the side hug, Yves uses a free hand to inspect more canned items, he also likes guessing what additives might be added into each product and how much of each nutrient does it contain.

It's impressive how his brain works like a supercomputer with trillions of servers, his eyes, nose, ears, skin and tongue work as the world's best sensors. Yves is actively gathering the smallest, most detailed information about you, the environment, himself and whatever he has on hand. All that, without a struggle, without any clashes in thoughts or confusion in data. All that without overwhelming himself, not at all. He's in fact, very relaxed.

You let go of him when you had enough, but it seems you're not willing to fully part from his form yet as you're holding onto his large, smooth and manicured hand.

He walks to the next section of the aisle, pushing the trolley along with him and enveloping your smaller hand in his. He noticed that you've lost interest in looking around as canned goods bore you and you would very much rather look through shelves of candy and other junk foods. Where the companies work their predatory marketing tactics on unsuspecting customers like you.

If you wanted to, you would have left him alone to entertain yourself by now. But you're still stuck next to him as he reads the next list of ingredients.

He doesn't need to hide a delighted smile from you, as you're pushing your face against his lowest rib. Yves can express his glee at your very sweet and considerate gesture to accompany him despite your boredom.

He wanted to see how long you would last before he loses your consideration. That's why, Yves kept going through each can with you inching along next to him. Surprisingly, you're durable. But you're not exhibiting signs of weariness anymore, but instead, you're simply content and comfortable.

Strange. The buzzing, blinding lights above you and him, the monotony of the labels, the droning and other bustling noises would have driven you out of this aisle five minutes ago, let alone allow you to express... Happiness for being present. This isn't usual, Yves knows. He has observed you more times than you can count in this exact setting. Everything is more or less the same: the luminescence, the air quality and the decibels that your ears are picking up.

Except, the only variable that changed was him. His presence.

He gently called out your name, which prompted you to look up at him.

Yves pecked you on the lips, leaving a faint stain of his lipstick on your kisser.

"I love you." He whispered, biting onto his tongue immediately because he wanted to say much more. So much more. But he couldn't, it would be horrific for you to learn what he sees without your knowledge.

You stared at him, confused. Of course, you returned his words of affection. What baffled you was this glimmer in his breathtakingly beautiful, smiling eyes that would only appear if you did something extravagantly sweet and loving for Yves without expecting anything in return.

Like giving him a meaningful gift that you toiled for, trying your best to serenade him with an original piece of romantic music, going above and beyond to please or pamper him... What did you do?

Yves lets out a soft laugh as he watches you struggle to contain your excitement at the prospect of receiving that reward later at home. He can feel your tremors as you hold onto his hand.

Well, whatever it is, it surely earned you a very big reward. You're not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so you gracefully accepted the silent message from Yves.

But for now, he must buy the groceries needed for the week, and all the ingredients to make your favourite dish of all time.

He pushed the cart to the next aisle, bringing you along with him.