#these are from just before the point of no return save

[hcneymooners]

⋆ i am afraid i will love you forever.

ambessa x sugar baby!reader x sevika. men & minors dni.

synopsis: ambessa & sevika are married for business reasons but cannot stand each other. however, they love you—you who are unaware that they are together.

cw: age difference, older woman/young woman, polyam but is it really bc they just love you and not each other, sugar baby!reader, business moguls!ambessa & sevika, power dynamics, power imbalance (you're a sugar baby, lol), sw, pining, non-sexual intimacy, sexually explicit content, threesome, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, oral sex (everyone is receiving at some point), masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dom/sub, sub!reader, dom!ambessa, switch!sevika, mommy kink, strength kink, face-sitting, face fucking, possessive sevika & ambessa, y'all there's a lot of nastiness in here idk if i can warn for it all, discussions of sexuality, implied assault (non-graphic, within conversation), slightly dub-con, angst, angst with a happy ending, misunderstandings, arranged marriage, sexual tension, hate sex, bisexual!reader.

wc: 10.3k

PLAYLIST.

notes: y'all, i'm going to hell. i had fun with this. i have such a soft spot for plots like this.

ACT I: CONCEPTION. you were used to feeling like a guest in your own life, everything fleeting, everything temporary.

sugaring was something inherently lacking permanence, even in name. it was sweet for a moment, full of gleaming gifts that you accepted with perfect tears in your eyes.

you had more than enough money, saved from endless months in which you traipsed across the world in the hands of older men. maybe it was about the attention now, this idea that you were still young enough to be considered enticing without effort. maybe it was the desperation to wring what you could out of an age gap connection before you became the older one.

still, in the beginning years of your twenties, you found it increasingly grating. very quickly, you understood that the men were the main problem.

they were all the same: fleshy jowls wiggling as they chewed thickly through caviar and jasmine rice, their boisterous laughs sailing across tables when you attempted to join conversations. they took your interests and re-explained them to you, returning them pulpy and distorted as they attempted to convince you that you didn't understand them the way they did. their self-importance clung to them like cheap cologne.

the rare occasions where you actually slept with them were mercifully short, and you learned to suspend yourself out of your body. you would imagine hovering somewhere over yourself, banished to the lavish mirrored ceiling of the ritz or whatever opulent hotel they'd chosen. they shuddered awkwardly above you, and afterward, you'd come back into yourself only to scrub viciously at your skin under the unforgiving spray of the shower.

the women were different—usually. you found yourself drawn to their luxury perfumes and high society drawls. it was because of this that you dropped working through an agency—which you had originally chosen to better protect yourself from male clients—and began independent contracting.

you kept a private log of the ones you liked best. there was the private university professor (who was really a nepotism baby) who loved to wear le labo matcha 26 and smelled so deliciously of fig whenever she kissed you that you sometimes bought the fruit just to continue tasting her. her nickname for you was something in greek—μωρό μου, you think. moro mou. she told you it meant 'my baby', but in all honesty, she could have called you anything. you just liked hearing her speak.

you were a dreamy, distant creature. your appeal lay in your ethereal quality, moving through the world in a way that suggested you were detached from it. people described your presence as lingering, smokey and soft, like a fading perfume in a sunlit room. there was something endearing about the tilt of your head, the deliberate pause in your movements and speech as you stewed in thought, that made people stare a second too long.

you had plied yourself with romantic imaginations since you were younger, when you first grew to hate your mother. that hatred had led you across far waters into a glittering life of your own making. but you'd learned that women could be just as dangerous, if not more so. they could ensnare you, shatter your heart with just the flicker of a glance.

so, of course, this meant that you were bound to get caught in the tides of extensive affection at some point. you just didn't expect it to be with them.

🥩 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓃔

the first sign should have been the unusual nature they coaxed from you.

you typically focused on one relationship at a time, securing yourself to a single person until you became too honest or too sensitive or too old. but with them, you fo​​und yourself with what you called a roster—a term your best friend and fellow sugar baby clleo (yes, two l's) took issue with during your weekly brunches.

"it's not a roster when it's only two women, [name]," she said, stirring her mimosa with a silver straw.

"it's more than one, no?"

"i feel like you have to have a minimum of three." she raised an eyebrow. "though i have to admit, even two is unusual for you."

the first was ambessa.

you'd met her when you weren't even looking, at some jazz show clleo had received tickets for from her newest beau. you had been perched inside the red velvet of the box, eyes roving over the insides of the other open balcony seats. you loved to observe, to look into others' lives and pretend they could be your own.

that night, you'd worn a navy slip dress that pushed the line of being dress-code appropriate, but it was comfortable and you had been tired. your hair was elaborately braided away from your face, threaded through with silk ribbons of the same color. despite its usually disagreeable nature, you'd managed to make it look elegant enough. your skin was littered with goosebumps from the fervent blasting of the air conditioning.

for once, you'd done your makeup the way you preferred it—less blushing ingenue, more cool nudes and a dark, bold lip. in the bottom of your purse sat two rolling bullets of lipstick: one a berry shade, the other a satiny red slightly subdued by a touch of brown pigment.

your feet had been curled beneath you, your ballet flats cast aside in the corner. the rounded tops were slightly scuffed, but you only saw it as a testimony of love. again, you looked out into the crowd only to find a woman looking back.

she was utterly beautiful, and your body flushed with heat for a moment, eyes wide like a doe. her skin was a dark, rich brown that gleamed with a sheen of oil and perhaps a shimmering body mist. her hair—black and streaked with thin rivers of gray—was pulled up into a tight bun, though the front was cornrowed. her mouth was full and smooth, a small gold cuff inserted in the middle of her bottom lip.

that night, she'd worn an oversized blazer over tailored pants. your eyes caught on her diamond cufflinks, and you felt your fingers clutch tighter around the bulk of your vintage ysl clutch.

she watched you with a sense of urgency, as if you might take flight like a bird and never return. bashfully, you turned back to watch the performance and clapped politely as it came to an end. her gaze never strayed from you, and as you rose to leave with clleo, you knew that she would be waiting.

you don't remember much of what happened after, of arranging the contract and indenturing yourself to her wealth. you only remember how she made you feel, her great body towering over you as she pierced you with her shrewd gaze. she'd cupped your elbow, pulled you gently to the side so that you were less in the way. the movement was easy; you trusted her with your body immediately.

now, ambessa reigned over the entries of your leather journal as your clear favorite. everything she did further endeared you to her, and you found yourself tumbling out of bed to check your phone where it lay on the floor, desperate for her messages. you watched the device all night, its flat body connected to a limp white cord plugged into the wall—willing it to ring.

and when she did call, you were almost delirious with joy.

ambessa's world was a carefully curated exhibition of power. noxus corp dominated the skyline with its obsidian tower, all sharp angles and tinted windows that reflected the setting sun like spilled blood. you'd learned early on not to ask too many questions about her work. the corporate merger making headlines—something about expanding into the industrial district of zaun—was just background noise to the way she'd trace your collarbone with cold fingers heavy with rings.

belatedly, in the midst of your betrayal and anguish, you’d berate yourself on your refusal to engage with real life when it inconvenienced you. you could’ve caught on, dived deep into the hole of information that was the internet as clleo did when taking up with someone new. but you didn’t, you just answered her call.

she liked to dress you up. tonight, it was a paper-thin black dress that cost more than your month's rent, the fabric liquid against your skin. you'd paired it with kitten heels that made soft clicking sounds against the marble floors—ambessa preferred when you were shorter than her, easier to maneuver, to possess. your lips were stained the color of coffee, and you'd lined your eyes with something dusky and soft.

the restaurant was the kind of place that didn't list prices on the menu, where the silverware felt weighty enough to be used as weapons. you liked this style of dining; it allowed you to escape further. you could pretend that since there were no prices, every morsel you ate was free and that the woman across from you was someone whom you loved and received love back from instead of bills.

“pull your hair back,” she commanded softly when you sat down, reaching across to brush a strand from your face. her touch lingered longer than necessary. “i want to see you properly. you should never feel a need to hide from me.”

you obliged, using the elastic around your wrist to gather your hair into a loose knot. the movement exposed the necklace she'd given you last week—a delicate thing of white gold and diamonds that probably cost more than your university education. her eyes darkened with satisfaction. she liked marking you with beautiful things, preferred to communicate through touch and gifts rather than words.

you preened under her clear pleasure. the idea that you’d done something right flowed through you, sweet as sugar as was the phenomenon of female favoritism. your tongue settled behind your teeth as she skimmed the menu, ordering for you as she always did. she seemed more aware of what you liked and needed more than you had ever been.

“are you alright with sharing the roast monkfish tonight, little lamb? i’m not all that hungry, so i think we should deal with something light.”

you nodded and she smiled, chucking your chin as she flagged down the server. you squeezed your thighs together, resisting the urge to rise from your seat and sit at her side with your head resting in her lap.

the waiter arrived with a bottle of wine you were unfamiliar with, which meant it was far more expensive than your beloved six-dollar gas station sémillon. as ambessa swirled the dark liquid in her glass, her phone buzzed. her expression hardened for a fraction of a second before smoothing over.

"business," she said simply, standing. "order whatever you'd like. i'll return shortly."

you caught fragments of her conversation as she walked away—something about zaun's infrastructure and liability concerns. one hour bled into two. the waiter refilled your glass with practiced discretion, and you watched the ice in ambessa's water melt completely. your phone remained silent except for a single text: an urgent matter requires my attention. car service will take you home.

the words blurred on your screen. you'd grown used to her absences, the way she could withdraw completely into her world of corporate warfare, leaving you adrift in these expensive spaces. but tonight, the emptiness felt sharper somehow. you had, more than ever, wanted her to take you home.

it was then that the woman entered the restaurant, right as you blinked upward to dispel the gathering tears. the air seemed to shift with her presence as she absentmindley looked in your direction.

she moved with the fluid grace of someone who knew how to handle herself in the cruel maw of this world, efficient and forceful despite wearing an expertly tailored suit. her left arm caught the light strangely—some sort of advanced prosthetic that spoke of military tech or private healthcare. a significant scar bisected her face, but rather than diminishing her beauty, it enhanced her striking features.

your paths crossed at the bar while you waited for a fresh glass of wine. she ordered whiskey, neat, and her voice was rough velvet.

"you're wearing that necklace wrong," she said, not looking at you directly. "the clasp should be centered at the nape. here."

before you could protest, her fingers—warm, unlike ambessa's—were at your neck, adjusting the chain. you caught a whiff of motor oil beneath expensive perfume. you swayed slightly, pressing into her touch. she steadied you with a single finger at the beginning knob of your spine, strong where you were momentarily weak.

"i'm sevika," she said, finally meeting your eyes. something in her gaze made your breath catch. you’d never seen eyes that grey. "you look like you could use something stronger than wine."

you smiled, albeit shakily, which avalanched into finding yourself talking to her about everything and nothing—about the book of poetry you kept on your nightstand for late night reading, about the way you collected vintage coats, about how you sometimes felt like you were floating three feet above your own life.

she listened with an intensity that made you feel anchored, present in your skin in a way you hadn't felt in months. her questions were sparse but precise, each one drawing out another story, another piece of yourself you hadn't meant to expose. and then she asked you to leave with her, and the answer was quick and easy. a light, eager ‘yes’.

the speakeasy she took you to was hidden beneath an auto shop, all exposed brick and piano medleys that wrapped around you like rope. in the dim light, you noticed the way her prosthetic arm moved with incredible precision as she gestured, the way her eyes softened almost imperceptibly when you laughed. she noticed you shiver and draped her jacket over your shoulders without comment, the leather still warm from her body.

"i manage specialized acquisitions," she said when you asked what she did, her smile suggesting there was more to the story. "currently dealing with some complex merger negotiations. but that's boring. tell me more about that poetry collection you mentioned."

you talked until your voice grew hoarse, until the early hours when the city felt like it belonged only to those who were lost or hiding. when she dropped you home, she fixed your broken porch light without being asked, her movements quick and purposeful. you found out later she'd also left her number saved in your phone under 's'.

what you didn't know—couldn't have known—was that across town, ambessa was returning to the penthouse she shared with her wife of six months, their marriage a carefully hidden clause in the merger agreement between noxus and zaun's industrial empire. their shared living space was largely ceremonial, each woman keeping to their own wing, intersecting only for appearances and board meetings.

that night, sevika found ambessa in their shared study, both of them surrounded by contract papers and acquisition reports.

"the zaun infrastructure reports," sevika said, dropping a thick folder on the desk. her wedding ring caught the light—a simple band worn only within these walls.

"you're late," ambessa replied without looking up. "the board expects updates by morning."

"i had a personal matter to attend to."

"as did i."

neither woman acknowledged sevika’s missing jacket which she never was without, nor the faint perfume—your perfume—that clung to ambessa's blazer. their arrangement was clear: their marriage was business, their personal lives their own. they had trained themselves not to care what, or who, the other did in their free time.

but that night, for the first time since their arranged union, both women found themselves thinking of the same person as they worked in silence. it was one of their more agreeable evenings together.

ACT II: GROWING PAINS.

“where do you go?”

you turned, half-lidded, your hair mussed into an untamed bird’s nest. sevika lay beside you, her smile a lopsided thing—teasing, warm, a little worn. you leaned toward her instinctively, pressing a lazy finger into the shallow dimple that cut into her cheek.

she caught your wrist before you could withdraw, lips brushing the tender pulse beneath your skin before pulling you into her chest. her hand slid across your stomach, warm and heavy, before it wandered higher to pinch your nipple just shy of too hard.

the two of you had met in a hotel, yet somehow, it felt less clinical than it should have.

“what do you mean?” you murmured, breath catching as her hand stilled.

“you go somewhere,” she said, “when we fuck.”

the words hung between you, and you felt your body shift under her scrutiny. her gaze trailed the uneasy motion of your shoulder blades as you shifted upright. honesty clawed at your throat, but you tried to swallow it back. you’ve never been the tiger, only the tiger’s bride.

“i often—” you broke off, tongue darting to wet your lips. her arm tightened around your waist, as if sensing your instinct to retreat. “i tend to disassociate when i do this part of things. i’m not—what i want, i usually can’t achieve. i don’t want to make it anyone’s problem, so i float.”

“float?” she repeated softly. her tone was unreadable, but you refused to meet her eyes.

“i pick a spot on the ceiling,” you admitted, voice small. “from there, i phase myself out of my body. it’s like it’s happening to someone else.”

sevika said nothing at first, and the silence thickened as you focused on the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest. then, carefully, she shifted you into her lap, holding you there like a delicate thing. her lips found the center of your chest, pressing a kiss over your heart before trailing up to the vulnerable line of your throat.

“you do this with me?”

“not always,” you whispered. “you’re…different. you pay attention to me—what i need. only two other people have ever been that way. both women.”

“mmm. do you still see them?” her voice was calm, but you caught the subtle current of possession beneath her words.

“only one.”

“and?”

“it’s good with her. one of the best.”

“and what do you want?” she pressed. the question lodged itself in your chest. “you said you can’t achieve it.”

your cheeks burned, and you squirmed in her lap, but she held you fast. “i—this is embarrassing.”

“there’s nothing embarrassing about your desires, baby girl,” she murmured, her tone soothing. “i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want you to enjoy this too.”

“i do enjoy it, but…i’d like to go further. i like to go under.” you hesitated, then added, “you know that i’m—”

“submissive,” she finished for you.

you nodded, your voice softening as you continued. “i don’t really like the harsher aspects of submission, but i love being taken somewhere else—being softer. i love being told i’m good, that i’m doing well. i love being pushed past my limits, to the point where i’m…hazy. overstimulated. freed from my worries through my body, through the pleasure i give and receive.

“when you manhandle me, when you pull me close and push into me like you’re starving for it, when you break me apart with your mouth, i get so close. i hover in this warm heaven where i’m nothing but what i feel. you know?”

sevika’s expression softened, her face almost unbearably open. before you could process it, she moved, pressing you into the mattress beneath her. her broad frame blotted out the light, sheltering you in a cocoon of warmth and safety.

“you are good, baby,” she finally said. “so good.”

her lips fell again to your neck and you felt her slide her thick fingers into the warm walls of your cunt. a sound slid from your throat, something gutteral and worn. she began to move, curling her fingers as if you pull you closer. there, in the back of your mind, was that heaven.

she kissed your temple, her lips lingering there as your body arched into her hands. “thank you for telling me.”

then, softer: “that heaven? i want to take you there.”

the words sank into your skin, heady and heavy, as if she’d whispered she loved you.

🥩 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓃔

ambessa had endured a long day—one filled with tedious negotiations and the peculiar frustrations of ruling over people who thought themselves her equals. she'd craved just one moment of quiet in her house, but fate, it seemed, had other plans.

when she stepped through the door, the sight of her wife pacing their kitchen dragged a weary sigh from her chest. sevika's movements were sharp, her broad shoulders taut beneath the worn leather of her jacket. even now, after months of marriage, seeing sevika in their shared space felt like an intrusion.

for a fleeting moment, ambessa considered turning around, but she hadn’t built empires by running from conflict.

“sevika,” she began, voice clipped, “if this is about zaun’s profit percentage in the acquisition, i suggest you take it up with legal. i’ve no patience to discuss business tonight.”

“it’s not that,” sevika muttered, her tone bristling with frustration. “but thanks for your grace, medarda.”

ambessa’s eyebrow arched. “then what?”

sevika stilled, the weight of her gaze pinning ambessa in place. “are you the other woman?”

for a moment, the words didn’t register. then irritation flared, swift and hot.

“i thought we agreed we weren’t in love,” ambessa replied, dry as the desert. “who i see outside this house is none of your concern, unless it compromises our arrangement.”

sevika exhaled sharply, the sound edged with restrained anger. she reached into her pocket and retrieved her phone, its screen casting a gentle glow across the marble counter. with a few taps, she pulled up a recent conversation.

she paused, a smile stealing across her face as she took in the selfie you'd sent of you and clleo in matching milano blaniks. the tenderness in her expression was something ambessa had never seen before.

my feet hurt but it might be worth it!! you'd texted. she had responded in record time.

looking cute, baby girl. i like the purple.

me too! they had a navy and gold pair i would kill for, but i'm trying to be responsible.

sevika's smile deepened, and this time she sent a bank transfer along with her next message.

you can be a little irresponsible.

oh, sevi. that's not what i meant.

i know. i don't mind. get them both.

"i'm sorry, but were we not having a conversation?" ambessa's voice cut through the moment like frost.

sevika snapped back to reality, her face twisting into something ugly—the expression she reserved solely for ambessa. she selected another image, and ambessa stepped closer, her eyes narrowing at the familiar necklace adorning your throat.

she recognized it instantly—it had rested on her desk just nights ago, a small token of indulgence she’d gifted you during one of your afternoons together.

you were smiling, beaming, caught mid-laugh. your hair was damp, clinging to your cheeks, and a sea lion nudged at your side. it was an image of unfiltered joy.

"she was talking to me the other night," sevika began, her voice tight as a wire. "mentioned some other woman. i thought it was a client thing, but then she showed me this." she gestured at the screen. "that necklace. it was on your desk when i saw you."

ambessa said nothing at first, her jaw working. finally, she sighed, the sound heavy with something like resignation. “i didn’t know. i assumed she might have other clients, but i didn’t pursue her because of you.”

sevika’s shoulders sagged slightly, but the tension in her face remained. she bent her head, palms pressing into the cool marble of the counter. “what the fuck.”

“does she know?” ambessa asked after a beat.

"what would it matter?" sevika shot back, her voice rising like tide. her gaze locked on ambessa, and her lips twisted in disbelief. "holy shit. are you in love with her?"

the question hit like a blow, but ambessa’s reaction was instant.

“as if you’re any better,” she snapped. her tone turned venomous, sharp as a blade. “you sulk through the door, reeking of her sex, then slink into the shower as if i can’t hear you simpering in there.”

sevika straightened, anger sparking. “and you’re what? innocent?”

ambessa’s laugh was cold, cruel. “i’ve never been innocent a day in my life. but you—god, sevika, you’re pathetic. you’re worse than i thought.”

sevika’s fists clenched at her sides, but she didn’t lash out. instead, she held her ground, her gaze fierce. “what do we do now?”

ambessa hesitated. her mind raced through the implications, the potential fallout. finally, she crossed her arms, her posture stiff. “we don’t tell her.”

“and keep lying to her?” sevika’s voice cracked slightly. “how long do you think that’ll work?”

“as long as it has to,” ambessa replied, her voice low and final. “this arrangement isn’t just about her, sevika. it’s about us. about what we’ve built. if you care about her as much as you claim, you’ll think before ruining what little stability we have left.”

“for fuck’s sake, ambessa. she’s a sweet girl. she won’t—”

“you have no idea what she will do if she finds out,” ambessa hissed. “and i know how sweet she is. she’s the only goddamn person i know who can stand me. who do you think i’m really protecting?”

for once, sevika had no retort. the silence between them was loud, heavy, filled with unsaid things.

“i’ll handle it,” ambessa said after a long pause, her voice softer now but no less firm. “but don’t let your feelings make you sloppy. if you can’t compartmentalize, this will all fall apart.”

sevika turned away, her shoulders tense. “it’s already falling apart.”

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ambessa didn’t sleep that night.

not because of sevika’s words—though they lingered like a sour taste in her mouth—but because of you. she’d grown accustomed to the softness of your skin beneath her fingers, the way your presence softened the edges of her world, made it almost bearable. and yet, she couldn’t shake the nagging thought that you might be nothing more than collateral damage in this carefully constructed house of cards.

the following morning, as sunlight filtered through the sprawling windows of her office, ambessa reached for her phone. her fingers hovered over your contact, her mind warring with itself. she’d always prided herself on her control, on her ability to compartmentalize. but now, for the first time in years, she felt the cracks forming.

her phone buzzed before she could decide, sevika’s name flashing across the screen.

“what now?” ambessa answered, her tone clipped.

“the gala,” sevika began, her voice unusually subdued. “this year it’s your turn to host, right?”

ambessa’s grip tightened on the phone. “yes. and what about it?”

“and,” sevika said, dragging out the word, “she’ll be there. she got an invite through one of her clients.”

the air seemed to still around her. “you’re certain?”

“positive,” sevika replied. “what do you want to do?”

ambessa leaned back in her chair, her gaze fixed on the skyline. the decision should have been simple: handle the event with poise, maintain appearances, and ensure that you remained blissfully unaware. but something about sevika’s tone made her pause.

“we’ll stick to the plan,” ambessa said finally. “she doesn’t know, and she won’t find out. not from us.”

they both knew it was only a beautiful dream.

🥩 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓃔

and then suddenly, it was different. it was horrible in its subtleness, but enough to make you less comfortable than you were before.

you went to dinner. ​​ambessa watched you with eyes as sharp as her diamond cufflinks, and you wondered if she knew how small you felt in her presence. you let her brush her thumb over your lower lip, and you leaned into it, hoping she doesn’t notice your hands gripping your clutch too tightly.

“is something wrong?” you asked her, throat closing around the end of the question.

she seemed to startle, and leaned back with a shake of her head. you knew what was coming next. she was going to blame work or her family, which you barely knew about, or maybe something as clandestine as the weather. you suddenly felt entirely too sick. you took a sip of wine, eyes falling on the little brown bag that sat next to you.

every gift you unwrapped felt a little like a goodbye, the sparkle dulled by the unspoken terms behind it. you kept smiling, face stretching tediously through the pain though your heart was sinking because nothing ruined a good arrangement faster than too much honesty.

you must’ve overstepped somewhere down the line, and she had grown weary of it. you were sweating now, looking away from her. it didn’t help that your phone had stayed dark all evening, your slew of messages to sevika read and unanswered.

“i finished that book you gave me,” you offered and ambessa nodded. “it was lovely. a little macabre, but i managed to push through.”

“bessa?” you asked, voice small.

the nickname seemed to spur her back into herself and she reached across the table, clutching your hand. her rings pressed cold indents into your skin. you'd grown to love the weight of them.

"the annual noxus environmental gala is tomorrow night," she said finally. her thumb traced circles on your palm. "i'd like you to come."

your heart stuttered. she'd never invited you to a public event before. "another client already invited me. i’ll be there."

she squeezed your hand once before letting go, unfazed by the mention of someone else. "good."

🥩 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓃔

the evening was opulent in a way that made your skin prickle. the ballroom shimmered with soft golden light, chandeliers casting their glow across marble floors that reflected everything like still water.

you'd been invited by marcus—a client who preferred your company over dinner to discuss art and literature, who looked at you like you were made of gold but never asked for more than conversation. he was safe, a spiderweb you could free yourself from anytime without losing any skin.

your dress—a gift from ambessa—felt like a confession of infidelity. marcus had said nothing in the car, but his face had been momentarily confused. he kept track of what he gifted you, and he hadn’t seen this before. you offered no explanation, just smiled softly and held his clammy hand.

the fabric whispered against your skin with every movement, reminding you of her touch. you held your champagne glass like a shield, watching the bubbles rise and disappear, each one carrying a fragment of your certainty with it.

the past week had been strange. ambessa's usual sharp edges had softened into something almost tender, while sevika's messages had grown shorter, more distant. she’d eventually responded to the ones that had been read, but you felt as though you had disturbed her with them. you'd attributed it to work, to the upcoming shareholder conference business weekly had written about. you were good at making excuses for the people you loved.

and then you saw her.

ambessa stood on the stage like she'd been born there, her voice carrying across the room with the kind of authority that made everyone else feel small. her dress was long and white, with a delicate slit framing the plump skin of her thigh. it clung to her frame with an elegance that made your heart ache. you didn't want to admit how your chest tightened at the sight of her, how your body betrayed you with its instinctive pull toward her presence.

but before you could fully process the sight of her, another figure emerged from the crowd.

sevika.

she stood near the base of the stage, her broad frame impossible to miss. her presence was quieter than ambessa's, but no less commanding. the way she held herself—like she belonged here, like this was her world too—made something cold settle in your stomach. you shifted away from marcus, moved slightly forward with a furrowed brow.

it wasn't just their proximity—it was the way they moved. the way sevika's gaze lingered on ambessa, the subtle nods they exchanged, as if communicating in a language only they were privy to. and then, as if to confirm your worst fears, ambessa's hand brushed sevika's arm in a gesture so familiar, so natural, that the truth hit you like a truck.

the matching rings caught the light. the world tilted sideways.

the soft hum of conversation turned to static, the lights too bright, the room too warm. you tried to steady yourself, clutching the edge of a nearby cocktail table and nearly taking it down, but the weight of realization pressed down on you like a tide. marcus was asking after you, but you snapped at him.

you thought of the gifts—how similar their tastes had been. the way they both knew too much about each other’s companies, about each other's worlds. the little moments that should have added up but hadn't—because you hadn't wanted them to. you'd ignored the signs, wrapped yourself in their separate affections like blankets against the cold.

someone nearby whispered, "isn't that their…" the words trailed off, heavy with implication. you spun, eyes wide and searching. you couldn’t tell who had spoken.

the champagne glass slipped from your fingers. it didn't shatter—caught by a waiter's quick reflexes—but the sound of it leaving your hand seemed to echo through the room. both women turned at the noise, their expressions shifting from professional neutrality to something raw and complicated.

“do you know her?” the question came from a guest nearby, their curious tone laced with amusement.

the tension shattered. the murmurs began, the subtle shifts of the crowd as more guests turned to watch the unfolding spectacle. your voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the gathering noise like a blade.

“how long?”

ambessa stepped forward, her movements slow and deliberate, as if approaching a wounded animal. “it’s not what you think—”

“don’t,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “don’t you dare lie to me.”

sevika tried to intervene, her hand reaching out as if to steady you, but you recoiled, your fury spilling over. “you both knew,” you said, your voice rising. “you knew, and you let me—”

sevika tried again."baby—"

"don't." the word came out hard and cold.

you backed away, your heels suddenly unsteady beneath you. the crowd parted like water, their whispers following you like shadows. you felt that your dress was transparent, exposing your body to the their ravaging gaze. you made it halfway down the marble steps before sevika caught your arm. her touch was warm, familiar—everything you'd grown to love and now couldn't bear.

"please," she said, her voice rough with something like desperation. she couldn’t possibly understand what it meant to be desperate. "please."

"let go of me." you tried to pull away, but she was stronger. had always been stronger.

"we never meant—"

"what?" your voice cracked. "to hurt me? to make me look like a fool? do you think i love being a loser? that i would be fine because i would view this as some way of knowing what it was like to win?" you yanked harder, and suddenly you were falling.

the puddle wasn't deep, but it was enough. your dress—ambessa's dress—soaked through instantly, clinging to your skin like shame. you stayed there on your hands and knees, watching your tears make ripples in dirty water.

"stand up," ambessa's voice came from behind you, softer than you'd ever heard it. “come inside. we can—”

"no." you pushed yourself to your feet, water streaming from ruined silk. your makeup was running—you could feel it tracking down your cheeks, and somehow that small detail destroyed you more than anything else. for the first time in a long time, you felt ugly. "i don’t want to come inside."

when you looked up, they were both there. ambessa's perfect composure had cracked, showing something raw underneath. sevika looked like she wanted to reach for you again but didn't dare.

"were you laughing about it?" your voice was barely audible. "about how pathetic i was, falling for both of you?"

"no," sevika said quickly. "god, no. we didn't even know—"

"until when?"

"a week ago," ambessa admitted. the truth fell between you, landed hard.

you stepped back, barefoot now, heels dangling from one hand. "oh my god. were you ever going to tell me?”

their silence was answer enough. the air around you grew thin.

a scream rose up from the depths of you before you could stop it, and echoed wildly from the sides of surrounding buildings. you clutched at your face, eyes screwing shut as you let out a terrible heaving noise. you knew they were seeing you now as you really were: a frantic girl who clasped desperately at whatever she could get in order to save herself.

“i hate you,” you screamed at them, hurling the words like they were knives. “i hate you! i never want you to speak to me again.”

it was rendered useless because the three of you knew that simply wasn’t the truth.

“just—leave me alone,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

their expressions were unreadable. if you gave in to your delusions, you could believe that ambessa looked slightly ill.

you walked away, legs shaking, each step carrying you further from everything you'd thought was real. behind you, you could hear them arguing in harsh whispers, but you didn't turn around. the city lights blurred through your tears until everything was just a soft shape and shadow.

your apartment felt suffocating when you returned, the silence oppressive in its stillness. you sank onto the couch, your dress pooling around you like a shroud. the tears came in waves, each one more relentless than the last.

you thought of ambessa’s calculated charm, sevika’s quiet strength, the way they’d both made you feel seen, cherished. and then you thought of the lies. you reached for your phone, your fingers trembling as you typed out a message. but no words came. what could you possibly say? that you hated them? you’d done that. that you missed them already? that you wouldn’t know how to exist without them?

instead, you deleted their numbers, one by one, the act feeling both liberating and excruciating. for the first time in what felt like forever, you were truly alone.

your mother was right. you were such a fun girl, but impossible to love. when someone looked at you, they’d never see someone worth settling down with. another wail unearthed itself, reverberating through the grave of your body. you twisted, holding yourself with your own arms as you felt the grief break you down.

you would never see them again. there was nothing worse than this, not now. you felt like you’d be better off dead.

ACT III: DEFORMATION.

ambessa hadn’t slept in days.

the boardroom’s fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across her sharp features as she reviewed contracts she couldn’t focus on. every word blurred into the next, her thoughts returning to the look on your face when the truth unraveled.

“i don’t think i can fix this,” she had told sevika the night it happened, her voice hollow as they sat in the dim confines of her private office.

sevika hadn’t responded, her silence cutting deeper than any argument could. ambessa could tell her wife blamed her, and in some ways, she couldn’t disagree.

sevika, in response, buried herself in her work. her nights were spent overseeing global operations, her jaw clenched tight as she barked orders to underlings down the phone who didn’t dare question her unrelenting pace.

but even the chaos of the company’s industrial sprawl couldn’t drown out the memory of you. the sound of your pleausre haunted her—high and wispy as she ate at you. her dreams were vivid, stuck on the way you’d lit up when you talked about the things you loved—things she hadn’t known enough to ask about.

they’d both lost you, and they felt it in the empty spaces you’d left behind.

ambessa, meanwhile, pulled back. she gave the reins to her daughter for an indeterminate amount of time, something viewed as largely positive and a sign of trust. but those who knew her interpreted it as a sign of grave danger.

her days were spent much like yours, wrapped in the endless heart of her bed which she only left to sink underneath the soapy water of a warm bath. there were several evenings where sevika would stumble home, slightly drunk but coherent enough to check on ambessa and yank her from the bottom of the bath.

“no,” she rasped, her hand tight on ambessa’s thick wrist. “you face it.”

and you?

well, eventually you realized that the world would continue to move on. blessedly, your breakdown hadn’t hit the headlines or social media platforms. you knew this had to be the work of them, but it was the least you deserved. you cut all arrangements you had leftover. the gifts were boxed up and put into storage.

despite your dramatics, you reminded yourself to not be stupid. all cash you had kept was deposited into your bank account, in increments so it wasn’t flagged as suspicious. you had well over thousands, so you broke your lease and found a block several miles from where you used to be.

you’d invited clleo to live with you, but she’d refused citing her current suitor as her preferred living situation. she felt that he was the one, that they would marry. you felt your bitterness rise up, but you shot it right in the middle of its scaled head. you were happy for her, you said instead of “he doesn’t mean it. please don’t believe him.”

please send an invite.

she’d cupped your face and kissed your cheek. of course. you’ve been with me through everything.

so, you broke another lease and left the city.

ACT IV: REVIVAL.

true to her word, clleo did get married, and she did more than invite you. you were her maid of honor; the only bridesmaid at that. this meant that you were captured into a lavish gown that showed more skin than you thought would be appropriate.

“we can’t forget where we came from,” clleo had said coquettishly, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. she treated you so fragilely now, and you clung to it. you were pretending it was something else.

the wedding was a spectacle of opulence—ivory drapes cascading from every corner of the venue, chandeliers dripping crystal tears, and flowers so fragrant they felt like an embrace. the air buzzed with the cloying sweetness of a celebration meant to declare love eternal. you floated through it all, a wraith in your own right, bound by duty and the magnetic pull of clleo’s joy. you wore the dress she picked for you: black satin that crushed in on itself like paper whenever you moved and clung like sin, with lace so delicate it felt like a secret. it revealed too much and not enough all at once. you wondered if she’d done it on purpose, if she’d wanted you to stand out or to feel exposed. to embarrass you.

no, this was clleo. you were simply…paranoid now.

the ceremony was a blur, a kaleidoscope of vows and veils, of clleo’s radiant smile and the way her hand trembled in her husband’s. you caught the bouquet because she’d aimed it at you, her laugh like champagne bubbles bursting in the air. it was later, during the reception, that you felt it—that electric hum at the back of your neck, the awareness of being watched. you turned, and there they were.

ambessa and sevika.

they stood together, an impenetrable force against the crowd. ambessa’s gaze was as sharp as ever, her golden gown gleaming meanly, a study in power and restraint. sevika, beside her, had the air of someone caught between worlds, her hand resting on a glass of something dark, her eyes locked on you. they hadn’t been invited. you knew this because clleo would have warned you. yet here they were, as if summoned by the threads of some cruel, cosmic joke.

your stomach tightened, but you refused to look away. instead, you tilted your chin, the soft wave of your hair catching the light, and took a slow sip of wine. if they wanted to haunt you, they would have to work for it.

it didn’t take long. ambessa approached first, her steps deliberate, her presence cutting through the crowd like a blade. “you look beautiful,” she said, her voice low enough that it felt like a secret. you hated how your skin warmed under her gaze.

“you shouldn’t be here,” you replied, though the edge in your voice felt dull, worn down by something deeper.

sevika joined her then, her expression inscrutable but her proximity unnerving. “we needed to see you,” she said, her voice rougher, as if it cost her something to speak.

“at a wedding? how romantic.” you let the words hang, your lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “good thing it’s not mine.”

sevika’s lips twitched, and you scowled. your pain was not for her amusement.

“[name], we made mistakes,” ambessa said, and for the first time, there was something fragile in her tone, a crack in the glass. it distracted you from your ire. “but we haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

you set your glass down, your fingers trembling against the crystal stem. “i don’t think this is the time or place.”

“when is?” sevika countered, her voice steady but her eyes revealing something raw. “you’ve been avoiding us.”

“i said i never wanted to speak to either one of you again and yet, here you are,” you said, your voice sharper now, cutting through the haze of alcohol and longing. “do you think crashing a wedding will fix what you broke?”

ambessa’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. “we’re not here to fix it. we’re here because we can’t let it end like this. and it’s not crashing if the groom extends an invite at the behest of the bride.”

your heart stuttered, and for a moment, the noise of the reception faded into a dull roar. clleo’s laughter rang out from somewhere behind you, a reminder of where you were, of what you’d tried so hard to rebuild. why did everyone betray you?

“i can’t do this,” you whispered, stepping back. the movement felt like tearing yourself in two.

“baby girl,” sevika said, her voice low, almost pleading. “look at me. this isn’t some big scheme, okay? let’s talk. we don’t even have to do it here. we can go anywhere you fucking want. just like before, mama.”

you shook your head, the weight of their words pressing against the fragile walls you’d built around yourself. “i need air,” you said, your voice barely audible, and before they could respond, you turned and slipped into the crowd.

“[name!]” ambessa called.

fuck being the tiger's bride, you were the tiger. you stood your ground, kept walking.

🥩 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓃔

the gardens were quiet, the air cool against your skin as you leaned against the wrought-iron railing. the night sky stretched endlessly above you, an intricate canvas of stars that felt too indifferent to your pain. but the world wasn’t responsible for soothing you.

you’d thought the distance would help, that the cool air would clear your head, but instead, it only magnified the ache in your chest.

you heard them before you saw them, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot. you didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge their presence, but you felt it—that charge, that unbearable pull that had slaughtered you repeatedly since the beginning.

“i didn’t ask you to follow me.”

“we’re not asking for forgiveness,” ambessa said, her voice soft but firm. “we are willing—we’re willing to take what we can get. we want to make this right.”

you turned then, your eyes meeting hers, and for the first time, you saw it—the vulnerability, the regret. sevika stood slightly behind her, her expression shadowed but her eyes fixed on you with the same intensity.

“and what does that look like?” you asked, your voice breaking despite yourself. “what could you possibly do to undo the damage?”

ambessa stepped closer, her hand hovering near yours but not quite touching. “we can’t undo it,” she admitted. “but we can promise to be better. to show you that you’re the only thing that matters.”

“you’re both so good with words. but words don’t mean anything if they’re not backed by action.” you laughed then, a bitter sound that cut through the stillness. “you always made me feel like i mattered. that’s why it hurt so much. i have no place between you.

sevika finally spoke, her voice quieter but no less resolute. “then let us prove it. on your terms.”

“you’re not good for me.”

ambessa glided forward, caught your chin inbetween her thumb and index finger.

“nothing in this world that we want with so much intensity will ever be good for us.”

you looked between them, your heart a battlefield between desire and self-preservation. the silence stretched, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. finally, you broke out of her grasp, a small, tentative gesture that felt like stepping off a cliff.

“i have no place between you,” you said again, your voice barely more than a whisper.

sevika's shoulders sagged with disappointment, but ambessa’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. she was like a bloodhound with weakness.

“is that what you want, lamb?” you looked up at her, sensing a shift in the air. “you want to be between us? coddled, warm, and safe?”

“ambessa—” sevika began, but the other woman held up a hand.

“you would’ve been fine if you had know that we were married from the beginning, hmm? is that it? your conscience would’ve been sated, right? because it’s not homewrecking or infidelity if the partners are aware of the others transgressions.”

“that’s not fair,” you snapped.

“mmm, well life isn’t. besides, you must be stupid if you think every client you’ve been with hasn’t once had someone waiting at home. this is your life, little lamb. your permanent affliction,” ambessa sneered. “i think you like it.”

you knew this game well. she pushed you, said the best things to make you act your worst. if you gave in, she won.

“fuck you, ambessa.”

“gladly,” she said with a small smile.

you scoffed, irritated beyond belief and moved to storm past her. by doing so, you gave her what she wanted. as you made an effort to leave, she cinched your waist with her arm and pulled you back into her chest. you could feel her breasts against your back, full and ripe like fruit.

“what are you doing?” you asked incredulously.

she didn’t answer, only hiked your dress up to press a ringed hand to your cunt. she held it there, groping the warmth of you until you were leaking in response. you let out a strangled squeal, legs kicking to no avail.

“see? you want us so badly. it’s like an instinct.”

you glanced at sevika, hoping for some fucking common sense but found her gazing at your lace-clad panties with something unfathomly angry lurking across her face.

“who the fuck gave you those?” she said quietly.

you stopped struggling, looking at her fully now. her stormy gaze lifted, piercing you like a spear through weak flesh.

“it wasn’t me, and ambessa never gifted you shit like this.”

“i had—i had other clients,” you answered and she rolled her shoulders, skulking forward. “but i bought these myself. i don’t see anyone else anymore. i can’t—i couldn’t. it was hard.”

her face softened at that, and she came closer. her large body covered the front of you, shielding your exposed body from any prying eyes. this meant that ambessa could slide the fabric to the side and dip a finger into your cunt. the slide was slick due to your drooling arousal, but the pain still startled you.

she was large, almost too much, but it seemed to burst a part of you that had been straining at its locks. you let loose a silent cry, shuddering desperately in her grasp as she explored you tenderly. sevika cooed, claiming your mouth in a bruising kiss.

“hold on,” she murmured into your mouth and you clutched onto her, gripping tighter as ambessa gave you over.

sevika walked you over to a small alcove, expertly hidden from immediate vision and grunted as she held you up with one arm—removing her jacket with the other. once the concrete floor was covered appropriately, she lowered you on top of it carefully.

you released her, but barely had a moment to thank her before she was on you. your first thought was that it was like before: relentless, tender, and crushing. her hands slid up your thighs until they grasped at your hips. you rocked into her, moaning softly as she squeezed the soft meat of your stomach. your breath came fast, labored and fueled by aching.

“it’s okay, baby. ‘m right here,” sevika said, her voice low and firm.

she pulled back, spreading your legs till the pink of your pussy was revealed to her hungry gaze. it winked at her, clenching around nothing the longer she looked.

“jesus, i’ve missed this,” she murmured.

you flushed, body pulsing hot with flame. from the side of you, ambessa came prowling. she lowered herself to her knees, back arching neatly as she crawled into the apex of your thighs. her mouth descended upon you with a fervor, her lips closing around your clit and sucking. your back bowed until you were practically hunched over her, hands in her thick hair.

she only adjusted herself so that she could better lick into you, her tongue lapping at every crevice of your cunt. you were dripping all over her face, hips bucking as you fucked forward onto her tongue. her hands came to cup the peach of your ass, squeezing and tugging until you felt like nothing more than a piece of meat. after a moment, ambessa pulled back and laughed as you tried to follow.

“sorry, little lamb, but i need to know if i’m doing a good job” she watched you, eyes sharp. “i know you are.”

you shivered at that, and she smiled. impatiently, you further opened your legs and pushed your sopping pussy toward her.

“c’mon. please.” when nothing happened, you let out a groan. “you’re doing a good job.”

“who’s doing a good job?” ambessa asked, moving closer.

you shivered again, your brain beginning to mottle and smear.

“you are, mommy.”

“fuck,” sevika groaned.

satisfied, ambessa suctioned her lips back over you. you let out a high moan, pushing your chest out. sevika reached over, tugging the bust down and exposing your tits. your nipples were straining toward her, so she dragged one in between your teeth. with a cry of surprise, you slammed your thighs closed around ambessa’s bobbing head. she did nothing to open them herself, only slapped a hand on your inner thigh to get you to correct yourself.

“yes, fuck,” you cried. “fuck, please. please. ohhhh.”

ambessa shook her head back and forth, letting herself get messy as she pushed her face deeper inside of your pussy. you were fully fucking her face now, your clit engorged and begging. whatever filter you’d had before was gone now; your mouth ran like water from a faucet.

“yeah. yeah, mommy, like that. eat your baby’s cunt. lick your girl’s pink little pussy.”

ambessa moaned, her nails digging into the skin of your ass. you bounced as much as you could, that warmth coiling deep inside your stomach. sevika was still teasing your tits, but she had a hand inside of herslef now—her pants pushed down for better access.

when you realized she was trying to rub one out, you came with a primal grunt. ambessa attempted to pull back but you kept her where she was with a firm hand at the nape of her neck. breathlessly, you coaxed sevika up for a kiss and then pulled her away by her hair.

“i want you to touch her,” you instructed. your voice was shaky as you edged toward your second orgasm.

it took her a minute to register what you meant and you watched her cheeks darken, her eyes flickering toward ambessa’s rippling back inbetween your legs and then back to you.

“i know you want to, sevi,” you murmured.

your mind was almost gone now; you were so close to heaven.

you could see her warring with herself, but you also knew her love for you would win out. with a curt nod, she moved until she was behind ambessa and lifted her dress until she was face to face with her naked ass. with an efficent movement, sevika pushed ambessa’s legs open so she could smell the musk of her large cunt. there was a moment where you weren’t sure if she would obey, but then she dived in—licking a large stripe between ambessa’s folds. you seized around ambessa’s tongue as she squealed in surprise, your orgasm pouring from you like honey.

you puhsed her off of you and crawled onto all fours, squatting slightly to make the push of your fingers easier as you entered yourself. despite not pleasuring you anymore, ambessa made no effort to move as sevika slapped a hand on her ass as she slurped at her pussy.

“holy shit,” ambessa muttered and you grinned.

“have you—have you touched each other like this before?” you asked, voice breaking as you reached that spot long your walls. “did you fuck when i left to try to stave the guilt?”

there was no answer, but ambessa stiffened. you laughed, bright and a little unhinged. it was confirmation that they’d thought about, but had never actually followed through. you were in a squatting position now, positioning your hips as you rode your own fingers. you wrist twinged in discomfort, but you were more determined to cum for a third time.

faster and faster, you rode. your head was turned up toward the ceiling of the alcove, your tits bouncing as you began to crest that wave. you closed your eyes, focusing on the shaky inhales of ambessa and the wet squelches of sevika feasting on her.

there was a pause, so you opened your eyes and found sevika flipping ambessa over so that the bigger woman sat on her face. like this, she was even more insatiable. she rocked ambessa back and forth on her face, spreading her own thighs weakly as heat cascaded through her.

you weren’t sure what did it: sevika’s newfound desperation to actually fuck her wife, ambessa’s unrelenting eye contact as she came, or the high whine sevika released when ambessa leaned back to fuck two fingers into her frantically pulsing cunt.

but whatever it was ravaged you. you screamed as you came for the third time, legs trembling as you squirted all over yourself and sevika’s suit jacket. the comedown was impossible. you were incoherent, moaning wildly as the pleasure possessed you.

you heard them both scrambling to move toward you, but you held a hand out. your neck bent, your body settling onto all fours like a lame animal as you let your cunt flutter and clench through the remnants of your orgasm. your chest heaved frantically, but you were euphoric. you’d done it, reached Heaven and taken control.

you glanced up at them and know from the look on their faces, you’ve never been this beautiful. if this was what the french called a little death, you wanted to die forever.

“this is your place,” ambessa said hoarsely. “you belong right in the center. you are the only one who understands. you are our center.”

sevika lay next to her, and she said nothing for a long while. then her face turned toward you. you met her gaze unflinching.

“baby girl, please. please.”

you thought you were the loser.

“it has to be different,” you finally said. the two women broke into identical smiles. “it has to be. i want you to be transparent with me. i’m not a little child.”

you thought you were down for the count.

“like you said,” you continued, staring right at them. “you are my life. this is my life.”

but here you were, the last woman standing.

© hcneymooners.

⚚ special taglist: @venusiandyke @thatonetargaryen @drgnflyteabox @y2kas13 @baeumonde @blackdykegirlblogger @slut4sevika @sevikasllver @indigopearl96 @dut1fuldyk3 @imheadintothemountains @bambishaven @kirammansbow @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @nightlyconfusion @sevikasrightboob @half-of-a-gay @nsfwruru @yourlovesicklibra @tnash-tammy @sweetcinnamoncookie6 @bluferret @doppelman @savedforlaterr @sevikasserafim @fruitfulfashion @soniiyi @namuranguinhos @16novvs @bubblestrbls @spidercat-soccerfan @pllduniverse @sugrcookiiee @iwasholic @sevslefthand @starting6over @fxngsfxgxrty @leone007 @ambessaswhore @jvalentinelvr @bella-goths-wife @maaaaaaaaaaari @elena0497 @powderpinkandsweeet @sweetcinnamoncookie6 @pearldaisy @sevikas-whore @wolfessa @lazyartizt

[francesderwent]

so for the purposes of this discussion I’m going to assume that we all agree that it’s not a desirable state of affairs to be sexually intimate with a whole bunch of people just for fun. I know not everybody agrees with that *gestures vaguely to the sexual revolution and the hookup culture*, but if I have to prove that first then that’s going to take forever and I don’t think it’s what we’re talking about anyway.

we’re going to assume that our interlocutor believes sex and love do have something to do with each other, and wants to know why we shouldn’t treat sex the way that most television shows these days treat sex: like kissing on the lips. you’re in love with your boyfriend so you kiss him on the lips. and then you might break up, and fall in love again and kiss a new boyfriend on the lips. in certain circumstances you might kiss someone on the lips who isn’t your boyfriend, like if they save your life or you go through a bonding experience together or something. and eventually you get married to someone and you only kiss that guy on the lips from then on, but you have kissed a few other guys before and it’s not a big deal or a scandal at all. why, is the question, can’t we treat sex exactly the same?

so, point one is: because the whole physical world is infused with symbolic meaning, the human body speaks a language of its own. we don’t assign meanings to the “words”, they’re inherent and universal. you can’t twist bodily actions to mean whatever you want them to mean, they’re going to go on saying what they really mean whether you want them to or not. a slap does not mean love; its violence is not and cannot be loving. a kiss does not mean hatred; Judas betraying Jesus with a kiss adds an extra layer of hurt to his deception.

point two: in order to exist happily and healthily in the world, we need to speak the truth with our bodies, and not try to twist the language of the body into saying something it isn’t. when we lie with the body, the whole real world we live in resists us. we’re trying to impose our own meaning by our own will onto something that already has its own meaning, given it by God, and quite frankly, God’s meaning is stronger and it’s gonna win. think of this as living in a state of denial—even if you can stay in your denial for a little while, eventually, reality will have its say, it will make itself felt. more on this later.

point three: sex, as a word in the language of the body, is saying something other than just “I feel love for you”—i.e. it is saying something different than a kiss. how do we know this? first of all, sex causes bonding on a chemical level in a way that kissing absolutely does not! secondly, sex creates children—and therefore exists on a very different level than kissing! both of these differences point to this: kissing as a “word” speaks about love as desire, when it says “I feel love for you” it’s mostly saying “I want you”. sex as a word speaks something more, it says something in itself about a commitment which is forever. what sex is saying is “I give all of myself to you and I receive all of you in return, we belong to each other forever”.

point four: the only circumstances in which sex can be spoken truly is marriage. sex speaks in the body the same total commitment that is made in the marriage vows, reiterating and confirming the mutual gift that has already been given.

this is sort of where it gets tricky (and where I think TOB speakers often fail their listeners), because when you’re dating somebody, if you’re not being disingenuous and stringing them along until you find something better, you do hope that you’ll be together forever. and so the more you fall in love with someone, the more you naturally (and appropriately, I’d say!) want to have sex with them, because you want to be able to express your longing for that forever. you don’t intend to lie with your body! you want to say what sex says and make it true in the saying of it!

I think the usual Christian response is to say “ah yes, but that forever isn’t yet promised or guaranteed, so you don’t know if it’s ever going to come”. and as much as the person currently head-over-heels in love doesn’t want to hear it, unfortunately it is very real. for every Jack who meets his first serious girlfriend in college, has sex with her because he really wants them to be together forever, and then marries her six years later having had sex with no one but her, there’s just as many (if not more) Jill’s who meets her first serious boyfriend in high school, has sex with him because she really wants them to be together forever, then is blindsided by a breakup and goes on to repeat the pattern with several more boyfriends before she finally finds the “one”. it’s a tragically common story, so common that the trauma of it is becoming harder to recognize. but it causes severe emotional and psychological harm, to give all of yourself to a person hoping for the gift to be received, only to have your whole self be rejected, or trivialized, or used and discarded. it takes tremendous courage for Jill to pick herself up and believe in love again, and often she’s disappointed over and over again. even when the “one” does appear and the gift is finally received completely in marriage, the scars don’t fade completely. I think a lot of people who get their happy ending end up experiencing that phenomenon of psychological backdraft, all their old sexual traumas bubbling up again now that they finally have a healthy sexual experience to know how it should have been. they then have to spend the honeymoon years of their marriage healing from everything that came before. so the usual Christian guidance is “you don’t want to go into marriage with all that baggage, so better to wait just to make sure”.

and while I do think avoiding trauma is generally a good idea, I think this is a little bit of a cop-out. for one thing, it kind of seems to be saying “don’t have sex with your significant other, because you don’t really know if they’re telling the truth about wanting to marry you”—that is, it’s encouraging you to not trust your partner. sure (she said sarcastically), that sounds healthy!! there has to be a better, more loving reason not to have sex with a significant other before marriage. and it’s this: if the Church’s teaching about sex and marriage are really true, then it is just as wrong for Jack to have sex with his girlfriend before marriage as it is for Jill to have sex with her boyfriend—Jack’s eventual marriage to his girlfriend doesn’t retroactively validate every instance of premarital sex! and if Jack having sex with his girlfriend before they got married is wrong, then what we’re saying is it must be hurting them. even though their love story ended happily! even though they did end up giving and receiving the gift of self completely! getting things “out of order” is hurting them and making them unhappy. this is the burden of proof, and it’s much harder than proving Jill’s sexual history is hurting her. and yet if we believe Church teaching, it must be true!

so we return at last to my above point two—in order to exist happily and healthily in the world, we need to speak the truth with our bodies, and not try to twist the language of the body into saying something it isn’t. and here’s the kicker: we are not God. we cannot make a thing so just by saying it. so no matter how understandable it is to try to create a relationship that will last forever by speaking forever with our bodies, it simply does not work that way. when the word is spoken out of the context which makes it true (i.e. when you have sex outside of marriage), it does not and cannot bring that whole context into being—it doesn’t create a vow of fidelity, it doesn’t create a shared life, it doesn’t create a public commitment. someone can have sex with you and then break up with you, someone can have sex with you and then get in their car and go home leaving you there by yourself to sleep alone, someone can have sex with you and then pretend you don’t exist. the sex, on its own, doesn’t create a slippery slope that leads swiftly and inevitably to marriage. it just creates tension between the life you actually have, unmarried, and the unreal life you’re pretending you have in sleeping with one another. it makes all those parts of yourselves that you haven’t shared stand out more strongly, making you feel every little separation as a wound. and instead of creating a sense of peace and security, it leads to a kind of desperate grasping feeling—“we’re acting like us being together forever is a done deal, but it’s not a done deal, it’s not set in stone, so what can I do to make it work, how can I control this, how can I make him want me enough to stay?” even if in the end Jack proposes, the foundation of the relationship has been damaged. it can be healed, and rebuilt! but it is not good for a relationship to develop under that kind of strain. not good, and not necessary.

what’s the alternative? when you wait to have sex until marriage, your dating years with a partner can be years of expectantly looking forward in hope, while also living in the moment. you are not married yet—so your relationship is not set in stone, you’re still deciding what kind of relationship you want to have together, which means it can still get better and better as you build it. talk a LOT! talk about everything! talk about your pasts, talk about your dreams for the future! work out your issues in the present instead of covering them over with physical affection! because you’re not burdened by the anxious desperation to turn a lie into the truth, you will be able to see more clearly what the strengths and the weaknesses of the relationship really are, which allows you to address your weaknesses and work on them! and because you’re not pretending like you’re already totally committed, the prospect of actually making a total commitment will be more and more attractive. when you’re not trying to act like you’re married already, it’s so much easier to have open conversations about the future you want together, and easier to know when it’s time right now to take steps to get there. and that’s exciting! it’s fun to have stuff to look forward to, it’s fun to make plans together!

it’s not a better way because there’s less collateral damage, because you’re hedging your bets playing it safe just in case something goes wrong. it’s a better way because it’s all about letting love develop in its own time, according to its own internal laws. I’m not gonna say “guard your heart”, as if your significant other was an enemy at the gates. instead, “guard your relationship”, because it’s worth protecting, worth giving every chance to be as happy as it can be.

[psychologeek]

Thank you for your reply!

By your answer, I guess you aren't Jewish.

Oh, it's gonna be long.

Short:

This is very much NOT the definition of Zionism.

Herzel was very secular.

"God's redemption plan" - you're Christian, aren't you. Please stop projecting your cultural obsession.

Judaism, Palestine, Yisrael (word origins)

Longer:

Defining

See, the problem is "I define X as..." Without being part of X. This is problematic.

Can you imagine?

"I define feminism as the belief that women should have rights, and only women."

"I define the gay movement as the belief that people should be able to fuck in public and molest children"

Can you see how problematic it is to define something by what haters say about it?

Zionism

Theodore Herzel was highly affected by the Dreyfus trial, which he witnessed as a journalist. That made him realise that both the idea of emancipation (autonomous government under a larger Goy government) is not the solution. That the only way Jews would actually be save would be to be to have a Jewish self-govern state.

This come along with the Hibat Zion movement, that was mostly eastern Europe (Russia kingdom) and started 1881-82, as a result of the mass Pogroms (Sufot Banegev) and the May Laws.

"Zion" is one of the ancient names of Eretz Yisrael (and partly for Jerusalem).

Jews and Eretz Yisrael

The longing for Eretz Yisrael (the land of Yisrael, as in our ancestor) is as old as the exiles - you can see the Sigd, a holly day still held by the Beta Yisrael community (from Ethiopia) and had been for the last 2,500 years, as they didn't return after the 70-year/first exile.

Or 2,000 years for the rest, if you count from the second (Roman) exile. And Eretz Yisrael has always been part of our culture and hopes and prayers. We pray 3 times a day (each contains a spesific part about going back to Jerusalem). We say Bracha, a blessing, before and after every time we eat.

Our 3 main holidays, were used to be celebrated in Beyt Hamikdash. We still remember how it was. We still pray to do it again.

We mourn every year about what happened. We have a day in which we fast for 25 hours and cry and mourn. Which is at the end of 3 weeks of grief.

Erezt Yisrael, by any other name, has been in the Jewish DNA.

And there have always been Jews in Israel. 4 communities are famous for having over 2,000 years of unstopped Jewish community: Zfad, Tiberias, Jerusalem, and Hebron (the latter's Jewish community had been murdered in the pogrom of 1929. And since then, no Jews lived there - until the new Jewish community, 1979s, which people now call "colonizers". Bc they... uh... Are Jews who bought back houses originally owned by jews. No I'm not bitter at all.

"But there weren't jews in Israel -"

I mean there were??

But also.

The low number was highly affected by things like pogroms (Zfad, for example, had 4 massive ones during 1538-1929. And that's only what I have memorized). The Jewish community of Gaza City has been exiled 3 times 1830s-1929 (when they didn't return). Restrictions on immigration were put in place - ONLY for jews btw, in 1882.

(Also restrictions on Jewish immigration in the USA. I wonder why. Surely had nothing to do with other things that happened in 1881-2 that may cause many jews to consider immigration. )

Oh, we were murdered and exiled so so many times.

~

Kahanizm (isn't Zionism)

Any "only jews should live in Israel" opinion is a minority so small that. Like.

It's part of Kahanizm. Just to explain, the political party mostly failed to reach minimal votes in the elections (in Israel, the coalition is combined of multiple parties) and was at some point forbidden for running by the high court. Kahana has been imprisoned in both Israel and USA for his actions. This is so un-spread, that even most of far-right in Israel would disagree with him. Do you understand now?

Judaism:

Jews are called Jews in english (and some other languages) bc it comes from "Judaism" which come from "Judea" aka Mamlechet Yehudah (Kingdom of Judea), the southern kingdom during the 2 kingdoms era, and the last Hebrew kingdom to fall. That what we were named by the Romans -

But not only. You can see it since the first exile.

In the Book of Esther, with Mordechai ("Mordechai ben Shim'i ben Kish... Ish Yemini" (from the tribe of Binyamin). But also "Mordechai Ha'Yehudi" - which implies it refers to the place he was exiled from (Yehuda).

Palestine:

While we're at it, do you know what's the origin of the name?

The Romans (AKA colonists) has re-named the area after the great Jewish rebellion in the 1st century CE.

They named it after the Plishtim, that were big enemies of the jews, as a tactic of humiliation. Also known as "goyey hayam" (the sea people/invaders) who came from Greece.

(They also renamed our holly city as "Ilya Kapitolina", and salted the land. They also killed almost everyone in it, and enslaved most of the others. They also destroyed our Temple, Beyt Hamikdash.)

Also, "Palestine" has never been a sovereign country? I'm sort of confused why ppl keep it on.

Modern-day Israel is almost exactly in the borders of ancient kingdom of Israel.

Edit: Jewish-only poll is posted here

*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).

[rhiannonsknife]

okay, i don't wanna give spoilers, since you said you hadn't finished it, so.. first episode feels safe ??

fucking your cousin's is normal. it's a vault, there's limited selection. nobody blames you. but fucking your best friend.. well, that's a little much for lucy. not because your a girl. no, that's not- that has nothing to do with it, she promises. she just doesn't want to change your bond, that's all.

or super convoluted way to say lucy has a crush on you and refuses to admit it. mayb ?? idk if this makes sense sorry

also first ask i've sent that's not just conversation, so.. should probably put a name to my claim.

- 🦴 ( if possible </3 )

── KISS ME ONCE, THEN KISS ME TWICE, THEN KISS ME ONCE AGAIN

— summary: you and lucy decide to ‘practice’.

— warnings: friends to lovers. mostly fluff with some nsfw-ish content. so mdni.

the hum of the vault’s fluorescent lights buzzes overhead, the sound so constant it’s easy to forget it’s there at all until everything else is silent.

you and lucy are sprawled on the bed in her quarters, your shoulders pressed together as you share the same faded book, its pages worn from years of careful reading. the vault’s limited library doesn’t get restocked, after all.

“you ever think about what’s out there?” you ask suddenly.

lucy doesn’t look up from the pages, though her grip tightens slightly, the paper under her thumb crumbling. “not really,” she lies.

“come on!” you press, nudging her with your elbow. “you’ve never wondered what it’s like? the open sky, fresh air…”

at that, she snorts. “fresh air? you know the stories! it’s nothing but radiation and monsters out there!” lucy flips the page, her eyes fixed on the paragraph in front of her.

you roll onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at her. “you don’t think everyone out there is bad. you’re too nice for that!”

she finally glances at you, her lips quirking into a small smile. “you think i’m nice?”

“well, of course,” you say, your tone teasing. “i mean, you could just tell me to shut it and read the book, but here we are!”

lucy laughs, a quiet, breathy sound, and looks back down at the book. she doesn’t turn the page.

“okay, maybe i do think about it,” she admits after a moment.

it reminds you of childhood. of sitting in the quiet dark of the quarters, exchanging hushed secrets in the comfort of her presence.

“but not the way you do! you’ve got this whole…” she gestures vaguely, her eyes flicking back to yours. “…adventure thing in your head. like the outside world’s just waiting for you to show up and save it single-handed!”

“and you don’t?”

“nope.” she smiles. “i mean- eventually. once it is safe for all of us to return back. maybe our children will?” she clears her throat and nudges you with her shoulder. “anyway, why would i want to leave when I’ve got you around to drive me crazy?”

you grin, making a point of ignoring the way her words make your heart flutter. “lucky, lucky you!”

“don’t i know it?” she says, rolling her eyes, but her smile lingers, softer now.

the silence settles again, this time heavier with the book no longer her only focus. you don’t notice but lucy’s eyes keep darting your way, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the paper.

she’s fighting a battle in her head. one she’s been losing for weeks, maybe months.

lucy’s been told, more than once and by multiple sources, that making out with your cousin, for example, is normal. perhaps expected, even, just to have some sort experience secured.

but wanting you? her best friend ever since she can remember? that’s something different. something that makes her palms sweat and her stomach twist in ways she can’t explain whenever she tries to picture it.

“hey,” you say suddenly, pulling her out of her spiral. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” she says quickly, her voice too bright. “why wouldn’t i be?”

“you’re fidgeting,” you point out, reaching to still her hand.

the touch is light, casual even. something you’ve done a hundred times before. but it feels different now, with pictures of your lips on hers flashing through her mind. lucy knows it’s not your fault. it’s hers. it’s always hers.

“i’m fine,” she insists, pulling her hand away and crossing her arms. “just…tired, i suppose,”

you don’t look convinced, but you let it go, lying back down and turning your attention to the book. lucy stays sitting up, her eyes on you instead of the page.

she shifts awkwardly, trying not to fidget again. you've started having that effect on her, and it's driving her crazy.

“you know,” you say suddenly as if you'd been reading her mind. “people in the vault are always talking about how it's normal to…y'know, experiment?”

lucy's head jerks toward you so quickly it's a miracle she doesn't pull a muscle.

“experiment?”

“yeah," you hum. “like...with other people…everyone says it's no big deal. ‘limited options,' and all that!”

she swallows hard, her palms suddenly clammy again. “uh...sure,” she says, trying to sound disinterested. “i mean, that's just how it is, right? have to keep the gene pool going or whatever,”

now it’s your turn to snort. “i'm not talking about marriage and babies, lucy. i mean..." you trail off. “practice.”

“practice?” she echoes, her voice an octave too high, the words catching in her throat.

“for when we do get married someday,” you clarify, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. there's a pause before you quickly add: “not to each other, obviously,”

lucy feels like her brain is short-circuiting all over again. you can't just say things like that and expect her to function like a normal person. “right….gee, of course not to each other!” she parrots.

you sit up fully now, visibly excited. “but think about it! vault life does mean limited options, right? most people are already making out with their cousins to 'prepare for marriage!” you pull a face, the very idea making you wrinkle your nose in distaste.. “at least this way, we're...helping each other out. as friends!” “as friends,” lucy repeats, as if saying it out loud will make it true. “you…you’re serious?” her voice wavers, and it’s humiliating. god, why couldn’t she just sound normal?

“why not?” you shrug. “it's not like it has to mean anything!”

she wants to tell you it already does. that it's meant something to her for as long as she can remember. that it could never not, when it’s with you.

but instead, she stammers, “i- i don't think-“

“oh, come on!” you tease, your grin widening. “what? are you scared?”

that does it. lucy always had a stubborn streak, and you’ve learned exactly how to poke it.

“i'm not scared,” she insists, sitting up straighter.

“then prove it!”

lucy freezes. the air between you charged with something she doesn’t quite know how to name. every ounce of logic in her brain is screaming bad idea, but it’s drowned out by the overwhelming desire to close the space between you. just this once. ust for the sake of practice.

“this is...for practice,” she says finally, the words shaky, as if she’s reminding herself more than you.

“exactly.” your voice is soft now, steady. reassuring.

she hesitates for a heartbeat longer, her eyes searching yours for any sign that this is some cruel joke, a trap, a mistake. but all she sees is you: familiar and warm and impossibly close. before she can talk herself out of it, lucy leans in.

the kiss is tentative at first, her lips brushing yours with a softness that surprises even her. it’s careful, until you don’t pull away. when you lean into her instead, it deepens. the warmth of your mouth sends a jolt through her entire body, a shiver that starts at the base of her spine and works its way up.

her hands hover uncertainly in the air before finding your shoulders and holding on for dear life. lucy senses you smiling against her lips, and feeling the curve of your mouth against her own sends her poor heart stumbling in her chest. stumbling, then falling. falling deeper than it ever has before.

your lips taste like the chapstick she applied on them earlier, reasoning that they’d been looking a little too dry when -in reality- all she wanted was an excuse to get to see you from up close.

now, that same gloss smears against lucy’s own, leaving the faint taste of cherry in her mouth. she wants to taste of cherry everywhere, overcome with an unexplainable urge to drown in the flavor altogether: a sweet trail drawn slowly along the zipper of her vault jumpsuit. perhaps even lower, after, so that when you’ll come back up to lucy’s mouth, you’ll taste of her instead of cherries and she’ll get a taste of that, too.

when you are the one to pull back first, heat rushes to her cheeks. you're both breathing a little harder, the space between you buzzing with something electric.

“well,” you begin, your tongue darting out to wet those lips. lucy finds herself watching, mesmerized. “that wasn't so bad, was it?”

her heart is pounding so loudly she's sure you can hear it from where you’re sitting. “uh...no. not bad!”

you grin, leaning back on your hands like nothing monumental just happened.

“we're definitely ready for marriage now,” you conclude, teasing.

later that night, after she’s made sure that the doors to her room are locked, lucy slumps down into the comfort of her bed.

her pillow is still crumpled where you sat earlier.

when lucy presses it between her legs, her face in the bedsheets to stifle her sighs, she smells cherries.

the door to lucy’s quarters hisses shut behind you.

lucy stumbles backward, her lips already pressed to yours, her hands fumbling against the curve of your waist to steady herself. the room feels smaller than usual, the bed barely a few feet away.

“just…practice…” she murmurs between kisses, her voice breathless and a little shaky.

“exactly,” you whisper back, your lips brushing hers again before moving to her jaw.

lucy hums in agreement, though the way her hands tighten on your waist as your lips find her neck suggests she’s not really thinking about marriage prep, potential husbands, or the repopulation anymore.

after that first kiss, something shifted between you. something neither of you could explain but could not resist either. what once was supposed to be casual, a vault-sanctioned form of bonding, a way to keep things ‘normal’ in an environment that was anything but had turned into something way more the moment your lips touched hers that night in her quarters. ‘normal’ went out the window then.

it’s become a familiar pattern over the last few weeks: a fleeting glance across the cafeteria, a brush of hands in the halls, a whispered promise to meet later when no one’s around.

not that you ever talked about it. with all the rules in vault 33, the unspoken one between you both was the most important of all: keep it light, keep it safe. you never pushed further than kisses, never ventured beyond the safety of your blue and yellow vault suits. anything else would be too much, too real.

still, it didn’t matter how many rules you set for yourselves; staying away wasn’t an option. not anymore.

lucy’s back hits the edge of the bed, and she lets out a quiet laugh, her cheeks flushed. “we’re getting really good at this,” she teases.

you grin, leaning down to press another kiss to her lips. “we’re dedicated to the craft,”

her laugh softens into a sigh as you pull back slightly and she can’t chase your mouth with hers, your foreheads touching.

“this isn’t weird, right?” she asks suddenly, her voice quieter now.

you tilt your head, brushing your nose against hers and drawing another chuckle from her. “weird?”

“yeah.” lucy swallows. “i mean, we’re best friends. and we’re…”

“practicing,” you finish for her.

“right,” she nods quickly. “practicing!”

you don’t say what you’re both thinking: that this doesn’t feel like what it was supposed to be. that it never did, to begin with.

instead, you kiss her again, slow and deliberate, letting the moment stretch. lucy’s hands finally settle on your waist, pulling you closer as her nerves melt away.

all these weeks of making out under the disguise of practicing for a hypothetical marriage neither of you had ever shown any interest in had been good already. great, even. better than anything else you’ve ever known. which truthfully isn’t that much, but it still counts for something that you’re more than willing for lucy to be your first.

the only inconvenience to your little escapades would come later, after sneaking out of her room: the shameful feeling of your arousal, a stubborn reminder that you could not truly be casual about any of this.

still, leaving lucy’s quarters with your wetness pooling between your legs uncomfortably would always be worth having the little of her that you'd been granted.

perhaps one day, it would actually feel like enough. until then, you'll continue with the familiar pattern you've both fallen into. you'll let her touch you through the way too restrictive fabric and say a little prayer that, one of these days, she will go straight for the zipper instead.

[leo-interactive-fiction]

If it's not a bother, could I ask the reaction of the RO if the MC, who was a terrible cook, try to cook them something.

Thank you

Haha, let's see....

E: Their smile looks almost fixed in place as they use their fork to pick through the charred, ashen remains of the dish. Still, they do their best to take several bites, keeping that same well-meaning smile in place.

"Hey, you're getting better at using an oven!"

You cross your arms, "I didn't use an oven though?"

"O-Oh, w-well, that's not a bad thing..."

-----------

R: They don't let the trial before them dissuade their natural assured expression. After all, years of practicing the slight of hand necessary to slip away cards unnoticed has prepared them for this life-saving moment as they pretend to eat, upturning their fork at the last moment to allow the burnt piece to fall into their sleeve.

"You've really outdone yourself, truly. Keep it up, and I may end up having to hire you on as a personal chef," R slips away, tossing all of the collected bits of food into the trash without you noticing.

"Sometimes a little white lie is a necessary evil..." they murmur to themselves.

-----------

L: They glance down at the plate of "food" tentatively, "W-Well, perhaps a small bite? I am not particularly peckish at the moment..." They claim a delicate morsel, giving it a try. The color in their face seems to gradually fade as they continue to chew and chew, unable to fully pick it apart.

"I-It might be... a little too tough?" They say apologetically as they cover their mouth with a hand.

----------

V: They glance down at the plate for a moment before beginning to eat. Their grip on the fork is almost barbaric, holding it in a closed fist and stabbing down at the food as if executing the meal.

As you watch them wolf down the meal, you tap your fingers together, "How is it?"

"Crunchy..." They murmur with a mouthful of food, the lack of decorum lost on them as they continue, "I like it..."

----------

P: "Not again," They sigh as you set the plate in front of them, "What did I tell you about going into the kitchen?"

"H-Hey, I've gotten better! I think!"

They pick apart your dish, their nose scrunching slightly, "How is this raw and burnt at the same time...?"

"I tried my best!" You return defensively, "I poured my heart and soul into it..."

"Good to know you're that dedicated to poisoning me..." They shake their head and return the plate to you, "I guess it really can't be helped... If you're going to keep trying to put food in front of people, I may as well teach you something. It'll look bad on all of us if you start killing people with your shit cooking..."

-----------

M: They glance down at the plate full of partially edible food for a moment before slowly lacing their fingers together. "I'm on.... a diet..."

You blink in surprise, "Oh, you never said anything about that..."

"I... just started... right now..." M claps their hands in finalization as they get up from the chair, "After all... it wouldn't do... if I couldn't... show off to you..."

------------

K: They look ecstatic as they rush through the dinner you've prepared, scarfing it down as if someone else may come along and steal it at any moment.

You peer over at them expectantly, "How is it...?"

"Horrible!" They say delightedly, chuckling with a soft smile, "But... even if you gave me the world's most lethal poison, I would still gladly eat it. Knowing that you made it for me is all I need... Plus, this isn't as bad as some of the leftovers I've found in dumpsters!"

-----------

S: They glance around as they're presented with the smoking pile of charred coal. Thinking fast, they wave their hands around uncertainly before pointing behind you, "Ah, what in the hell is that?!"

As you glance behind yourself, S takes the plate and flings it like a frisbee across the room. The sound of shattering porcelain brings your attention back.

"What was that?!"

S gives their best attempt at confused nonchalance, "Eh... I think there's a draft... yeah..."

-----------

F: The royal wears a disconcerted expression, as if you had just handed them a bowl of dog food. They don't even deign touch the plate, using their fork to push the dish back towards you, "Perhaps... it would behoove you to perform a taste test."

You look slightly disappointed, "But... I made it for you."

"Oh, I insist... As a matter of fact, you should be rewarded for your efforts. The first serving is yours, and I would not have you leave until you finish all of it."

----------

Thank you for the ask! It was fun to write out haha. Work has kept me a bit busy as I've gotten a promotion, but means I have to work 12 hour shifts that tend to bleed into overtime haha

[marjoch]

happy progress day

Jayce is drunk, and Viktor fancies a smoke. The events that occur on Progress Day, and the evening directly after.

[18+]

Progress Day.

To some, it was a holiday. An off day. For Viktor, it was just another late evening at the lab, faithfully working. Despite the hour, he barely felt any inkling of exhaustion. There were things to do, things beyond sleep. There would be plenty of rest come the end. His body was failing him, and his mind made up for it, racking through solutions and rationalizing every equation that led him closer to a conclusion. He was told to wait a decade, but he would be damned if it wasn’t done before he was out of time.

He was focused now, pen in hand, documenting his latest findings. He’d made a few new discoveries, things he was excited to share with his partner Jayce come the morning. Once he was finished with his notes, he set the notebook on the table, pen on the pages to keep it open. Then he stood, returned to the chalkboard, erased a section, and started working again.

This problem was more complicated. He never dreaded equations, but this had been haunting him for days. Now that he was facing it, he felt like he was suiting up for battle. He was on one side of the war, armed with his wits and a piece of chalk. The numbers were on the other side, with no weapons apart from their own orders and properties. He knew how their playing field worked. He only had to put the soldiers in the right positions.

Viktor finished writing out the mathematics and began to look over it. There was a starting point here, if he could find it. He did, easily, and started to solve. Some time into his attempt, he groaned in frustration, and went back to the start.

Minutes passed. Hell, hours. Viktor pondered the problem until his head started to hurt, and he returned to his notes, nearly sure he’d missed something. It was all correct, much to his dismay. Sighing, he resolved to take a break in the form of smoking.

Usually, Viktor was respectful of the workspace. He took his break outside, away from anyone, and did his best to smell clean when he came back in. If Jayce had noticed his occasional habit, he never said anything. Tonight, with the absence of anyone apart from himself, he lit up in front of the chalkboard.

Within a few hits, the equation seemed less menacing and more like a puzzle. Halfway through the joint, he started to solve again, the filter between his lips when his hands were busy with the chalk and eraser.

“Oh, hey,” said a voice from the doorway.

Viktor nearly dropped the joint, which was still burning. He turned to see his partner standing there, still in his day clothes. The room was dim, because Viktor believed in saving energy when he could. “Hello,” was his response.

Jayce came closer, and wrinkled his nose. “You smoke?”

“You didn’t know?” Viktor asked, raising an eyebrow as if his secret should have been clear from the start. He took another hit while Jayce watched closely. Sensing his gaze, Viktor extended the joint.

That’s not what Jayce was after, but he stepped forward and took the joint anyway. Viktor watched his gait, noticing the slightest imbalances. Jayce took a small hit from the joint and immediately started coughing, doubled over.

The intensity of the cough surprised Viktor, who took the joint back and held it away from Jayce to prevent the smoke from coming near him. “Are you okay?” Viktor asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” Jayce choked, taking a few deep breaths before returning back to his full height. “I’m fine.”

Viktor watched him for a second. “Are you fine?” Jayce made eye contact with him. There was the smallest beat of silence. Viktor had something else to ask, amidst the empty space. “Are you drunk?”

“Happy Progress Day?” said Jayce in response, shrugging with his hands up.

“Happy Progress Day,” responded Viktor, taking the last hit of the joint. He looked back at the chalkboard, which drew Jayce’s attention.

“Wow,” Jayce sighed, walking closer to the equation Viktor had written out. “You did all this?”

Viktor hurried back to his notebook, picking it up. The pen rolled off the pages and hit the desk with a faint clatter. He brought the notebook to Jayce. “I worked out the other equation, I documented it all. I’ll show you all of this again in the morning, when your mind is more attuned.”

Jayce wasn’t focused on the notebook. When his eyes left the chalkboard, they found Viktor, and they never left. He listened, as attentively as someone inebriated could.

Viktor noticed Jayce’s focus was off, and sighed. “Is there something on your mind? I can do this later.”

Jayce shook his head. “You’re just so smart.”

Viktor was caught off guard by the compliment, but he played it off. “I imagine they don’t choose idiots to be a council member’s assistant. It’s been years since, but I doubt I lost my wits in the meantime.”

“No,” Jayce shook his head again, this time with more fervor. “No, not like that. I just mean… you have an understanding beyond everyone else’s. You amaze me. I don’t know how you do it.”

Viktor chuckled a little, somehow out of awkwardness. The things Jayce said were unspoken truths between them, sentiments that they shared about each other. “Thank you, Jayce,” was his response. Then, thinking of his friend’s wellbeing, he continued. “You should get some rest. I can explain all of this to you tomorrow.”

Another head shake from Jayce. It made Viktor realize the state he was in, despite how hard he was working to feign sobriety. “I want to stay here, with you.”

Viktor shrugged. “Okay,” he said. He turned back to the chalkboard, collecting his thoughts. He had a good train of thought that was derailed by Jayce’s arrival, and remained off the tracks with him still in the room.

It was an odd feeling. Usually, he worked better with Jayce next to him.

“I can help,” said Jayce, speaking up. “Let me see that.” He held out his hand, expectantly waiting for the chalk.

“I don’t think-”

Before Viktor could continue, Jayce took the chalk out of his grip and started working.

“Jayce,” Viktor began to protest, but as his partner worked, he stood back in silence. Whatever alcohol was in Jayce’s body was no inhibitant to his skill with mathematics. Right before Viktor’s eyes, Jayce worked out half the problem. When he found himself stumped, he stepped back.

“You got me there,” Jayce spoke to the chalkboard. Viktor watched him stand back, arms crossed, fervently studying.

“You’re smart yourself,” said Viktor, repeating Jayce’s compliment from before. He held out his hand for the chalk, and Jayce obliged. Stepping up to the chalkboard, Viktor worked out the rest of the problem… nearly.

While Viktor was standing close to the chalkboard looking over the last variables, Jayce was standing from behind. He wasn’t focused on the equation, though. In fact, he’d only been forcing focus for the sake of his partner, because that’s what Viktor wanted to do at this hour, and he liked spending time with him.

That, and Jayce Talis had a massive crush.

It had been growing for years now. He’d stuffed it down in hopes it would disappear, like it had with every other crush. He liked Mel Medarda, but was it the desire for allyship? He knew she was on his side, and that’s what he needed. He was on her side, too. He enjoyed her companionship, she was devastatingly stunning, and he would be so lucky to spend a single minute with her.

But Viktor…

With the drinks in his body, it was easier to fantasize they were something more than partners. Viktor didn’t even have to know that from back here, Jayce was imagining they were something more. Watching Viktor stand at the chalkboard, pretending he was a lover… it was a nice thought.

A thought that Jayce didn’t get to ponder long enough before Viktor interrupted his beautiful trance. “What do you think, Jayce?”

Just hearing his name on Viktor’s lips made his head spin. He was fighting to keep himself composed, but the liquor had another idea entirely. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Viktor, who’d found Jayce to be haunting his dreams on and off for years, was shocked to hear the sentiment returned. He turned around and found himself captivated by Jayce’s gaze: one of adoration, care, and longing.

Dismissively as possible, Viktor scoffed and turned back to the board. “Really, Jayce. I could use your brain, if it’s working.”

“It’s working,” Jayce said, not faltering from his current thoughts. For Viktor’s sake, he turned his attention back to the board. Through his intense thoughts of desire, he pieced one of the numbers together. Instead of asking for the chalk, he took it directly from Viktor’s hand, fingers grazing palm. The contact alone sent shivers down both of their spines.

Watching Jayce work out another portion of the equation gave Viktor’s thoughts time to ruminate. Now that he was the one behind Jayce, he took in the sight. He’d been here many times before in those dreams, always leading to something he’d never ask for in waking life. Oh, to hear his name said in a different context, Viktor, Viktor….

“Viktor?” Jayce’s voice cut through the trance.

“Hm?”

Jayce held out the chalk. “Check my work?”

Viktor took the chalk, nodding. “Of course.”

His turn to stand in front of the board again. Viktor went through the work, seeing the attempt at a completed problem. Finding a fault, he shook his head. “This, here. This doesn’t fit.”

Jayce was paying attention. He stepped up beside Viktor, ready to listen.

“I don’t know what fits. Just… not this.”

“Do you have another joint?” Jayce was wildly off-topic.

Viktor hesitated, but gave in. “Do you want to smoke?”

Jayce shrugged. “Only if you want.”

Viktor was content to smoke more. He went to his bag, dug out another joint, and lit it up. The first drag was enough to make him sigh in relief. Not only did it help settle his mind, it succored the pain he was used to living with.

When he passed the joint to Jayce, it was clear that his partner’s eyes were elsewhere. He could’ve dropped it just to maintain his gaze on Viktor, and Viktor noticed.

“I’m gonna sit down, if you want to.” Jayce proposed it like a suggestion, but his immediate change of position to sit on the floor made it obvious that he was going for it regardless.

Viktor looked down at the floor, and then back at Jayce. He was considering the effort it would take to lower himself down and back up again when Jayce sprang up.

“Just kidding,” said Jayce, who took note of his partner’s hesitations. He handed the joint back to Viktor. “Chairs.”

Without any prompting, Jayce brought their chairs over from the table Viktor had been working at earlier. He sat in one of them, and waited for Viktor to take the other. Viktor did, breathing in through the joint.

When Viktor offered the joint to Jayce, Jayce just waved his hand. “I’m good.”

“You wanted to smoke,” said Viktor, hand still extended.

“I wanted to watch you smoke,” confessed Jayce, eyes focused on his partner.

Viktor paused, then shrugged and continued smoking on his own. “Interesting thought.”

“Am I not allowed to think it?”

“I never said that.”

“Do you like that I think it?”

Viktor took a long drag before he motioned to Jayce with his finger. “Come here.”

Jayce was eager, pulling up his chair closer in an instant. Viktor blew the smoke in his face. Jayce coughed and shook his head. “What the hell, Viktor.”

Viktor’s smile when Jayce’s vision cleared was enough to warrant forgiveness. Hell, he was resisting the urge to ask him to do it again, just to see that same smile.

“I’m sorry,” Viktor said, with amusement. “I won’t do it again.” He went on smoking for another minute, then he asked, “Want to try something?”

Jayce was the type of man to try anything once, especially when it was suggested by someone close to his heart. His chair was already close to Viktor’s, but he inched up even more. “Sure.”

His yearning was visible, but Viktor was dragging it along. It was nice to discover that his partner felt similarly about him. Viktor breathed in through the joint, then motioned Jayce closer. “Open your mouth.”

Jayce, already captivated by Viktor’s presence, complied. He sat there obediently, mouth agape, while Viktor breathed the smoke into it.

“Breathe,” was Viktor’s instruction as he exhaled, and Jayce listened.

Viktor sat back as Jayce exhaled the smoke passed to him. Jayce took in the sight, locked into the moment. No amount of self-control was getting him through the night, however. Instead of sitting back in his chair, he remained leaned forward, arms propped up on his knees. “How much longer is that gonna take?” Jayce asked, referring to the joint.

Viktor looked at it. “I can be done, if you’re tired of it.”

Jayce shook his head, perhaps a bit too quickly. “No, carry on.”

As Viktor finished smoking, the two of them sat in a comfortable silence. Viktor looked at the equation on the board while Jayce looked at Viktor. When the joint was done, Viktor seemed like he was going to stand up. “Back to work.”

“Wait,” said Jayce, before his partner could move.

Viktor paused, looking to Jayce expectantly. When there was nothing to be said, he prepared to rise again, but was interrupted by Jayce coming much closer than before and the sensation of lips pushed to his own.

It felt natural. Kissing Jayce was like drinking water: necessary, something to be desired in its absence, and now that he’d tasted just a drop, he needed his thirst quenched. It took everything in him not to pull Jayce closer, especially now that he could taste the alcohol on his breath.

“You’re drunk,” murmured Viktor, halting the moment.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jayce said, tone so low it gave Viktor goosebumps. “I want you all the time.”

This night had taken a turn. He’d started off working on his own, pondering numbers and equations and all the things leading up to eventual payoff. There were goals to work for, problems to solve, and ideas to pitch. This took precedence.

“You don’t mean that,” was Viktor’s response, spoken with a shake of his head.

“I’ve always meant it,” Jayce remained close, looking into Viktor’s eyes even when Viktor looked away.

“I want you when you’re sober,” Viktor spoke.

Jayce sighed, and it devastated Viktor. His partner exhaled with all the energy of a wounded dog, a disappointed sound that was indescribable in any other way. “Drunk Jayce never has any fun.”

It took everything in Viktor not to laugh. “I’m not going to take advantage of you being inebriated.”

“You’re inebriated too,” said Jayce pointedly. “You’ve smoked two joints.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Kinda seems like the same thing to me,” Jayce continued. He remained where he was, close but far enough for Viktor to stand up at any moment.

Viktor wasn’t going anywhere. He was currently considering his options, weighing the possible regrets of any actions he could take. He leaned back in his chair. “Don’t you have meetings tomorrow?”

Jayce sighed of annoyance, finally sitting back in his chair and momentarily glancing at the ceiling before returning his gaze to Viktor. “Don’t remind me. From sunup to sundown, I’m stuck in back-to-back meetings with the most esteemed officials representing important politicians. In short: very boring, alarmingly corrupt.”

“You need to get some sleep.” Viktor hadn’t seen a clock in hours, but last he checked, it was already late. He stood up, and motioned towards the door with his head. “I’ll go, too. Be back here tomorrow night?”

Jayce was willing to leave if Viktor was going. For one, he didn’t like being alone in the lab this late without him. For another, he knew Viktor didn’t get the sleep he needed. Jayce had been there overnight many times before, and Viktor was nearly always working longer hours.

They left together, then, going their respective ways. When Viktor returned the next day, he saw the chairs still there in the middle of the room, and couldn’t help but smile to himself.

Violent events overnight landed Viktor and Jayce in front of the council the next morning, discussing the safeguards that should be placed on their new technology. Jayce walked away a newly-appointed council member, and Viktor returned to the lab.

The rest of the day passed quickly for Viktor, who was fully dedicated to his work. Jayce, on the other hand, suffered through the rest of his meetings. Preoccupied with business from the moment he woke up, he hardly had time to process the previous night’s events. This processing time coincided with his evening walk to their lab. Entering, he found most of the confidence he had the night before was diminished.

“Viktor,” he said his partner’s name in greeting. “Sorry I’m late. Trade dispute.”

Viktor was scrawling away in his notebook, detailing how the day had gone. So many things solved, yet so many to go. “Sounds fun,” he remarked, not looking up from his notes. He was determined to get all of his thoughts down before his head became clouded with new possibilities.

Jayce read it differently. Where a short response from Viktor may have been normal before, he found himself wondering if the night before had been too much. “Anything of importance today?”

Viktor finished his notes, and then flipped back several pages. “Actually, I wanted to review what I went over last night, just so it’s clear.”

He handed the notebook to Jayce, who went through it before walking to the chalkboard. The problem was still there, untouched.

“I wanted to wait for you,” Viktor said. “I don’t know. Drunk Jayce, as you called yourself, was very helpful.”

Jayce shook his head. “I’m sorry I barged in on your work night.”

“You were very helpful,” he repeated. “You almost finished it. I think it’s your calling.”

Jayce smiled and stepped up to the board, handing the notebook back to Viktor in passing. Viktor watched him work, paying attention to the numbers. Jayce’s mind moved faster than his in this particular moment, and since he wasn’t needing to solve anything, Viktor chose to watch him instead.

“I think that’s it,” said Jayce, with enthusiasm. He turned, and caught Viktor’s eyes. Viktor immediately looked to the equation, perhaps where he should have been looking all along.

As he attempted to double-check Jayce’s work, he found himself completely distracted. Jayce sensed it. When Viktor didn’t have any corrections or any positive remarks for a minute, Jayce touched his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

Viktor pulled himself together, looking at Jayce. “Yes, sorry.” The hand came off of his shoulder, and he missed the touch.

“Does it look alright?” Jayce asked, expectantly. “The solution.”

Viktor trained his gaze on the board again and went through it. On time, he responded, “That looks good to me. Very nice.” He knew damn well he would have to go back and check later.

“Very nice,” Jayce repeated, smiling again.

Viktor was still holding the notebook, and he went back to the desk for his pen now. Setting the notebook down, he began jotting his thoughts.

There was that nagging feeling again, the sense that Jayce was watching him. Viktor made eye contact with him, waiting for him to speak, but nothing came of it. The moment became so prolonged that it felt more like a social experiment on how long it could go, or even a competition of who would outlast the other.

Viktor was the loser. “I have to finish this.” He went back to the notebook, while Jayce walked over and found a seat in the chair next to him.

The pair of them were always inextricably attracted to each other, almost in a magnetic sense. Instead of sitting side by side, they tended to face inwards towards each other. Jayce particularly liked it because it was less obvious when he stole glances.

“You’ve been working all day, take a break.”

Viktor never looked up or faltered in his writing. “Take a break? We don’t have time for that. Besides, this won’t take me long.”

Jayce was usually content to watch him work, as he’d done this times before. It had been an indulgence he’d savored in the rare moments when they weren’t both preoccupied. After last night, however, his longing was becoming unsustainable through gaze alone.

Viktor was dutifully scribbling away when Jayce moved his chair closer, close enough to put his knee between Viktor’s. Just the slightest touch of their legs, and Viktor’s attention was drawn.

Jayce’s heart was beating so intensely that he feared Viktor would be able to hear it. Viktor, suddenly aware of the butterflies in his stomach, kept his composure. “Jayce.”

“Viktor,” was the easy response. The tone in his voice was reminiscent of last night, the same sound that gave Viktor goosebumps. He still hovered over the notebook, but his eyes never left his partner.

“You heard Heimerdinger. This will take years, Jayce.”

“Fuck Heimerdinger,” Jayce responded, with a strong expression to match.

Viktor shook his head. “I’m serious. If we don’t-” Jayce touched Viktor’s knee, causing Viktor to pause. He had his own way of staying on subject. “If we don’t finish this, you’ll have to do it when I’m gone.”

Jayce scoffed. “Thanks for the reminder.” He went to lean back, lifting his hand, but Viktor reached out and grabbed it, guiding it back. The action brought Viktor ever-so-slightly closer, and Jayce took the opportunity to test the waters, leaning in. The gentlest kiss, short and sweet.

Viktor just smiled. Jayce waited politely, and Viktor finally had enough, reaching for Jayce’s face and kissing him, hard.

Jayce leaned over and grabbed Viktor’s waist, hooking his fingers under his knee and pulling him closer. Viktor let his arms settle around Jayce’s neck, assisting in their shared conquest to eliminate the distance between him.

No separation, no conversation, just the breaths they shared and desire being spent. Jayce kept a hand on Viktor’s waist and ran the other up and down his thigh, feeling the way it made him shiver just the slightest.

Viktor was practically sitting on Jayce’s thigh, and Jayce was aware of keeping them both supported. The last thing he wanted was for them to end up on the floor. In an effort to situate them more stably, he pulled Viktor closer, inching him up his leg. The action elicited a quiet moan from Viktor. Jayce laughed just a little against his lips.

Viktor pulled away, then, arms still around Jayce’s neck. “Jayce.”

“What?” Jayce asked, beaming. His expression changed, then. “We can stop, if you want.”

“So stupid,” Viktor responded, kissing him again.

Viktor liked the way Jayce melted into him. He was sitting on top, but Jayce seemed to completely encompass him. Viktor drew himself closer, if that was possible at this point.

Jayce sensed his desire for the friction they’d experienced moments prior. Jayce put both of his hands on Viktor’s hips, and took control of the motion, the easy back and forth. Viktor approved audibly, a heavy sigh interrupting their make-out session.

“You like that?” Jayce asked, quiet.

Viktor just exhaled again, putting his forehead against Jayce’s. Jayce kissed his neck, determined to get another sound out of him. He’d heard it before, and it was the song stuck in his head. He needed to listen intently to get it out of where it remained, on loop. He succeeded, and Viktor shook his head at his own failure to remain quiet.

“I need you,” Viktor murmured, barely audible.

Jayce heard, but feigned as if he didn’t. “What?”

“I need you,” said Viktor again, this time more clearly.

Jayce kissed his neck once more before pressing a brief one to Viktor’s lips. He shook his head, moving his hands to Viktor’s face, running his fingers through his partner’s hair. When he spoke, his words were honesty in its most transparent form. “I need you. All of you. Whatever you’ll give me.”

“You can have it all,” was Viktor’s response.

Jayce moved them, then. With ease that Viktor quite liked, Jayce lifted him up onto the desk, and stood between his legs. Hands on the desk to support himself as he leaned in, he kissed Viktor with passion that he hadn’t demonstrated before. In all honesty, as he believed in that, he’d never been this entranced by anyone else.

Viktor was into it. The longer they went on kissing each other like this, the more he desired something more. He also noticed how his sounds seemed to please Jayce, and obliged to give into another soft groan, accompanied by his hands running down Jayce’s chest. Once he reached Jayce’s belt, he pulled his shirt out so it was untucked.

Oh, a sound from Jayce, then. Just the faintest moan, but enough to make Viktor understand why Jayce had been so intent on hearing him again. It was a melody, almost.

Heavy breathing. Lips on lips, hands in hair, a tangled mess of where Viktor ended and Jayce began. Viktor grabbed Jayce’s collar and pulled him closer, an action that made Jayce stumble from where he had been propped up leaning over the table.

“I miss your touch,” said Viktor. The look in Jayce’s eyes was something new. He would do whatever Viktor asked, and Viktor knew it. Jayce listened to the feedback and abandoned his position balancing on his hands, shifting so one was behind Viktor, holding himself in place, and the other found Viktor’s knee.

When their lips met again, Viktor explored the space of Jayce’s mouth with his tongue. Jayce slowly moved his hand up Viktor’s thigh, having an exact idea of what he was doing. When he reached his upper thigh, he felt Viktor shiver under his touch, and chose to linger.

Viktor, who paid attention to the way Jayce was playing with him, had tricks up his sleeve. Not breaking their kiss, he trailed his fingers up Jayce’s arms and, upon reaching his shoulders, took his jacket off. It fell to the floor without a complaint or a beat from either of them.

Jayce thought Viktor was good at working while distracted, but this was something else altogether. Viktor made quick work of Jayce’s tie and vest, leaving just his buttoned shirt between Viktor’s hands and his chest. Despite the new lack of clothing, Jayce felt warmer than before.

Viktor thought Jayce could stand to play catch-up. He was hardly halfway through the thought before Jayce moved to kiss his neck again, hands working at Viktor’s clothing, getting rid of everything save his now-untucked button up shirt and pants that Jayce was itching to get him out of.

Jayce was the one who broke the furious kiss, much to Viktor’s dismay. “How are you doing?”

In response, Viktor pulled him back in. Even as just a sentence, the separation was too long. He had never known Jayce Talis in this form, and he found himself addicted to it. Viktor blindly worked at the buttons on Jayce’s shirt. When it was undone, he ran his hand down his chest, finding muscle that he had imagined he’d see. Still, the very thought was arousing, and his longing grew deeper.

“You’ve got a friend,” said Viktor, upon bringing his knee up between Jayce’s legs. Jayce groaned at the touch, sending another wave of shivers down Viktor’s spine. Jayce could only move on, kissing Viktor’s neck, violently unbuttoning his shirt to continue down his chest. Viktor had a suggestion. “You should make him useful.”

Jayce stopped, then, and met Viktor’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

Viktor tilted his head curiously, smiling just the slightest. “We can stop if you want,” he echoed Jayce’s words from earlier, knowing good and well that neither of them were going anywhere.

“I’m good,” said Jayce, kissing Viktor again. As much as he loved doing this with Jayce, Viktor was aching for something more. Jayce sensed it, reading him as easily as he always did in waking day. His hands abandoned Viktor to work at his own belt buckle, and Viktor interrupted.

“No,” he murmured against Jayce’s lips. “Just touch me.”

Jayce exhaled deeply at the very thought and listened, moving his hands to Viktor’s waist again. Within moments of yet another intense make-out, he slipped his thumbs under Viktor’s waistband. His hands traveled until they found the buttons that kept them held together, and he worked to undo it.

On the other end, Viktor set to unbuckling Jayce’s belt on his own. He succeeded before Jayce did, smiling against his partner’s lips like it was some sort of competition. He reached in, and Jayce groaned. “That’s not fair.”

Viktor just sighed. “You should be faster next time.”

Jayce nearly knocked him back against the desk with the fury in which he kissed him. He finished undoing the buttons on Viktor’s pants and felt him as Viktor was feeling him now. Viktor moaned at the first sense of any touch, and Jayce couldn’t help but laugh again. The joy of finally getting to this point was too much to ignore.

“Are you going to make me ask again?” Viktor practically whispered. Upon sensing hesitation, he continued in the same tone. “Are you nervous?”

Jayce searched his eyes, remaining as close as he could. “Are you not?”

Viktor had been waiting for this, but he didn’t want to diminish Jayce’s confidence. “Who says I’m not?”

At this point, Jayce saw through his facade of ease. Viktor wanted the same as him, and he was ready to deliver. “You ask a lot of questions.” He captured his partner’s lips again, and pulled him closer by the waist, positioning him on the edge of the desk. When he finally gave into Viktor, the both of them groaned under the satisfaction of surrender.

“Fuck,” Viktor breathed, adjusting to the feeling of his partner inside of him. Jayce shared the sentiment, but did his best to hide it. What for?

With the sensation of movement came the visual of Viktor giving into laying back on the desk. He had remained up close to Jayce, keeping their lips in proximity, but he was content to enjoy the current moment.

Even if it wasn’t possible for Jayce to get off on the physicality (which he most certainly was), he would have been aroused just at the sight of Viktor like this. In fact, it’s something he’d imagined on his own, when he was supposed to be going to bed on time.

In-between bated breaths, Viktor reached up for Jayce. His partner’s hands were on Viktor’s hips, steadying them both and maintaining the motion, but Jayce was attentive. He took Viktor’s hand.

Viktor wasn’t looking for a hand-holding moment, he desired Jayce’s kiss again. The hand was a good enough guide, though. He pulled Jayce down towards him. “You aren’t going to kiss me?”

That earned the attention he wanted. Lips on his, and the pace elevated. There was no trying to hide any sounds shared between the two of them, the gasps and moans creating a symphony to fill the empty space in the room.

At some point in the act, Jayce separated from the kiss. Viktor let him go, watching the way Jayce propped himself up on an elbow, hovering above his partner with that indescribable look of pleasure on his face. Viktor’s hand followed Jayce’s arm up to his shoulder, where it lingered.

It was serious, now. This was the endgame of the act they’d both began, and the heat was undeniable. Sweat dripping from his brow, Jayce leaned down to kiss Viktor briefly. It didn’t last, because he was breathing entirely too heavy to continue. He settled to rest his forehead against Viktor’s, a position that was suitable to both of them.

Viktor’s fingers found themselves in Jayce’s hair, tracing down his jaw, his chest, any inch of him they could reach. At one particular moment he faltered, finding the back of Jayce’s neck as a safeguard against their foreheads separating. “Fuck, Jayce.”

It wasn’t a command as much of a reaction, but it may as well have been. Jayce focused now, caring about how it felt for himself but even more caring about how it felt for his partner.

Viktor moaned loudly, then covered his mouth with hand. When he spoke, it was breathless. “Fuck, Jayce, are you close?”

Jayce didn’t have words to respond. “Mhm,” was his close-lipped response, between the heavy exhales that were melodic to Viktor’s ears.

The pair of them were one, intertwined upon the desk where they did their faithful work. It was almost spiritual, an intended use for the space. This was the alter, and either of them were the offering to the other. Their god was the feeling they shared, something Viktor would worship in Jayce’s future absences, something Jayce would consider when with another.

Jayce was a patron, and Viktor was his dedication. Together, the two of them worked their way up to a climax, and they shared it with resonating sighs. When it was over, the feeling didn’t end, just the moment.

Drenched in sweat, Jayce rested his head on Viktor’s shoulder. Viktor’s hands found his face easily, pulling him into a kiss before he had anything to say about the event. When Viktor was done kissing his lips, he worked down Jayce’s neck, chest, anywhere he could reach without leaving his position on the desk.

Jayce thought he could fall in love with Viktor, but he didn’t have the guts to say it now. Instead he fixed Viktor’s hair, running his hands through it until it fell in messy waves. Viktor just stared up at him, taking in the view.

“How was that?” Jayce asked finally, almost nervous for a response.

Viktor laughed a little. “That was… not what I was expected when you came in tonight.” Upon seeing Jayce’s eyes filled with a mix of confusion and fear, he hit Jayce’s shoulder and sat up. “In a good way.”

Jayce chuckled, and Viktor sensed the possible discomfort. In an attempt to reassure him, Viktor gave him another kiss. While their lips were impossibly close, he whispered, “That was great. Thank you.”

Jayce seemed relieved to hear that, and it made Viktor’s heart skip a beat. Viktor pushed back the strand of hair that had fallen over Jayce’s forehead, and sat up.

“I didn’t want to end up on the floor, but it’s looking more comfortable by the minute.” Viktor’s words were true, something also on Jayce’s mind.

“Can I carry you?” Jayce asked.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, wondering where this was going. Despite not knowing, he nodded.

When they had gathered the clothes they needed to look barely presentable outside, Jayce turned back to Viktor and easily scooped him up bridal style.

“My room, or yours?” The question was Jayce’s to ask and Viktor’s to answer.

“Yours,” was the response. In all honesty, Viktor had yet to see Jayce’s living quarters. He’d briefly glimpsed at an idea of how he lived years ago, but nothing since. Jayce was thinking just the same about Viktor, but he was content to settle.

When the two of them left the lab, they were both aware that the memories of what occurred would never fade. As he fell asleep next to Jayce, Viktor just hoped that it would last. He wasn’t the type to engage in fleeting relations, especially not of this kind. Jayce meant something to him, and that was rare.

Jayce was up later than Viktor for once, ensuring his partner got much-needed sleep. Only when Viktor was asleep did he attempt the same, drifting off and dreaming of variations of the night’s events.

[atlanticum]

A rundown of my favorite "The Queen of Nothing" moments<33333

• Does he have a new seneschal? Does he have a new lover? <…> Does he talk about me?…

• “Love is stupid. All we do is break one another's hearts.” I feel like Jude agreed with Heather at that moment:/

• “You,” I say to my twin. “Get out.” YOU GO GIRL

• “Locke is dead” LADIES AND GENTLEMEN THIS IS THE MOMENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR

• The very thought of being there, of seeing Cardan, speeds my heart. Oh juuuuude

• "I knew you liked her," says Locke. "That's why I had to have her first. Do you remember the party in my maze garden? How I kissed her while you watched?" "I recall that your hands were on her, but her eyes were on me," Cardan returns. I FUCKING LOVE THIS

• "I loved him." "Sometimes I believed that you did, yes," Cardan says absently. AND THE FACT THAT HE KNEW IT WAS JUDE

• "Jude never loved Locke." "She loved someone else. He's the one she'd want dead.” —or in her bed who knows;)?!

• WHEN CARDAN SAYS HE’LL “EXAMINE” HER ALONE IN HIS CHAMBERS. Naughtyyy boy;)

• “Well, didn’t you get my letters?” “What letters?” THIS LITERALLY RIPS MY HEART OUT AND TEARS IT TO SHREDS

• "Jude, you can't really think I don't know it's you. I knew you from the moment you walked into the brugh." *Crying, screaming, throwing up*

• When Cardan tries to explain the exile to her and that it was all a trick that she was supposed to figure out and be proud of him, but he doesn’t have enough time… :(

• I am the Queen of Elfhame. Even though I am the queen in exile, I am still the queen. And that means Madoc isn't just trying to take Cardan's throne. He's trying to take mine.

• The fact that even when The Ghost betrayed her, when Jude found him she still wanted to save him!!! SHE’S THE BEST

• I'm not going to let myself get distracted by letters I never received or the way he looked at me when we were alone in his rooms or my father's theories about his weaknesses. I’m a tad speechless…

• WHEN THE ROACH COMES TO SAVE HER WITH CARDAAAAN!!! AND FOR HER HE LOOKS EVERY INCH A SPY FROM THE COURT OF SHADOWS

• “That boy is your weakness” OH WOW stupid Madoc is right about one thing. SHOCKER.

• Let Cardan not be shot. Let the Ghost be clumsy. Let me get inside easily. Let me stop him.

I do not pause to ask myself why I am in such a panic to save someone for whom I swore I rooted out every feeling. I will not think about that. Oh, sweetheart.

• “Do not touch her. She is my wife," Cardan says, his voice carrying over the crowd. “The rightful High Queen of Elfhame. And most definitely not in exile." CHILLS. literal chills.

• Cardan stands over me. <…> His white sleeves are rolled up, and he’s washing my hands with a wet cloth. My gods, i’m dying, he cares about her so much

• (about the gown)>> It is perhaps too plain for a queen, but Cardan is extravagant enough for both of us.

• “And the next thing we know, the High King is on our doorstep looking ready to tear down the whole apartment complex to find you” AAGHAHAHA I LOVE HIM

• “It was terrifying watching you fall. I mean you’re generally terrifying, but I am unused to fearing for you. And then I was furious. I am not sure I have ever been that angry before”

• “I was afraid of you when I had a knife to your throat” this tore my heart open

• “This is my room” he points out, affronted “And that’s my wife”. FUCK YEAH “So you keep telling everyone” the bomb says AAAHAH LOVE HER

• “Oh, I don’t know,” I say “Maybe he’d like to hear me scream”. oh he would “I would” Cardan says “And perhaps one day I will” I’M FOLDED.

• “Unlike Locke, I never thought love was a game” he says “You may accuse me of much, but not that” oh boy

• “I offer my queen’s hospitality. The hospitality if knives” ah, yes, badass jude

• “You looked like a knight jn a story tonight” I’M ON MY KNEES CRYING. THIS IS TOO CUTE.

• “By you, I am forever undone” I AM SCREAAAAMINGGGGGG

• “My sweet nemesis, how glad I am that you returned”

• “It’s you I love” he says “I spent much of my life guarding my heart. I guarded it so well that I could behave as though I didn’t have one at all. Even now, it is a shabby, worm-eaten, and scabrous thing. But it is yours” ABSOLUTELY MELTINGGGGG

• I can’t believe he said that and then just walked out, leaving me reeling. I am going to strangle him. I adore her

• When the bomb hugs her once they see each other, when Cardan was turned into a snake.

• “Please. I will do whatever you want. I will give up the crown. I will make any bargain. Just please fix him. Help me break the curse” im gonna cry

• I was happy, just before everything went so terribly wrong. This is gut wrenching

• They won. Everything was going to work out. AND HE LOVED HER

• “I would settle for even his worst self, his cruelest trickster self, if only he could be here” THIS IS ENEMIES TO LOVERS AHAAHAHA

• The Ghost’s eyebrows rise, and he glances at me. I grin.

• Like the whole thing how the Roach is telling the Bomb that he loves her is hilarious and super cute.

• The way Jude thinks that she can never tell Cardan how she feels is so sad. If Holly black had actually killed him off I would have died with him.

• “With my whole heart, I wish Cardan was here” she is longing for his annoyance I CANNNOT

• WHEN NICASIA TOLD HER THAT HE SENT THE GOWN I WAS SCREAMING MY GODSsss “He never told you, did he?”

• “And I saw the way you used to look at him when you didn’t think anyone was watching you” AAAH YESSS

• He’s every bit as terrifying as any serpent. i don’t care. I run into his arms. IM ON THE FLOOR SOBBING

• He holds me as though I am the only solid thing in the world. im absolutely dead in the best way possible

• “You don’t want me dead” “If you joke about this, I am going to—“ “Kill me?” I think I might hate him after all Thin line between love and hate, right Jude;)

• “I knew little else, but I always knew you” MY HEART IS EXPLODING

• And when he kisses me, I feel as though I can finally breathe again. MY HEART SQUEEZED IN THE BEST POSSIBLE WAY

• When Cardan silences Randalin when he interrupts Jude. You tell them KING

• THEY’RE CELEBRATING THAT THEY GOT MARRIED YEYYYYYYYYY

• When Cardan adjust his crown and she rolLs HeR eYeS and HE GRINS.

• To family and Faerieland and pizza and stories and new beginnings and scheming great schemes. I can toast to that.

i’m absolutely in love with these series🤍

[puffyphantom-v2]

I've really been wanting to clean/finish this one, but the writing gods have forsaken me and left me without guidance on how to proceed 😔

Rated:

Danny dug his numb fingers into the plush blanket wrapped around him, scooting across the expensive Persian rug to sit closer to the open fireplace. Even if he was able to feel the warmth emanating from the flames, it wasn’t nearly enough to calm his annoyingly persistent shivering. “So, b-basically, you’re saying that I have ice p-powers?”

“That would be an adequate summary, yes,” Vlad answered from where he was standing some feet away, turning a page from the large purple book he was cradling in one arm. “I’ve learned of a peculiar bunch that reside in the Ghost Zone who are apparently quite knowledgeable in the subject. Though we have no choice but to wait before we can go and make our inquiries. My ghost portal won’t be up and running again until tomorrow.”

“Right. Just m-my luck.”

“It’s unfortunate that your father’s portal is also out of commission at the moment.” Vlad shut the book and sighed. “Let this be a lesson, little badger. Never ignore the responsibility of changing out the Ecto-filtrator,” he said as he walked to the nearby bookshelf and slid the book back into place.

Danny scoffed. “You’re one to talk. Remind me again why your portal needed to be f-f-fixed?”

Vlad turned around as he tsked with a condescending wave of his finger. “Let’s not change the subject, now.”

“Hmph.” Danny shifted so that he could sit with his arms wrapped around his knees. “What else is there to say anyway? Besides the f-fact that I’m apparently going through g-g-ghost p-puberty.” He frowned. As if teenage puberty wasn’t enough. And just when he’d thought finally gotten ahold of all his latent powers, too.

Even worse, why did it have to be ice of all things? It reminded him of winter, which reminded him of Christmas—plus everything else relating to that awful holiday. And that was the last thing he wanted on his mind when it was the middle of summer.

“Luckily for you, if this really is what I think it is, then this ‘ghost puberty’ phase shouldn’t be nearly as much trouble,” Vlad said. “For now, you only need to put up with your symptoms until the portal is ready.”

Danny shot Vlad a look. “Easier s-said than done.” He extended his arms with his palms facing the fireplace, unable to hold back a violent shudder as he did so. “I can’t even tell if any of this is working. It’s like my body isn’t able to retain any heat. I’m almost tempted to throw myself in the fire and see if that does anything.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. Returning your charred remains to your parents isn’t exactly on my bucket list.”

“Good to know.”

Vlad hummed, remaining silent for a moment afterwards. “Maybe I can be of some help. I have an idea.”

“I’d love to hear it,” Danny mumbled.

“Phase your clothes off and lay on your back.”

“Huh?” Danny whipped head around, staring wide-eyed at Vlad as he watched him get on his knees beside him. Even with the cold cutting off his blood flow, he had no doubt that his cheeks had turned a faint shade of red. “Uh. I’m not sure t-that’s gonna help. Well, I mean, it might. But, um—”

Vlad interrupted with a chuckle. “Trust me, dear boy, it’s nothing like that,” he said as he rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows.

Still wary, Danny looked down at Vlad’s hands as he set them on his thighs before looking back up to meet his gentle gaze. His intention to help appeared genuine enough. And at this point Danny welcomed anything that could stop him from possibly freezing over.

He followed Vlad’s instructions, taking the blanket and laying it flat on the rug. Then, he phased his pajamas off, opting to keep his boxers on for the sake of saving at least some decency. His body immediately noticed the lack of clothes. He couldn’t stop his teeth from chattering or himself from shivering. “Is t-t-this really n-necessary? Seems c-counterproductive,” he struggled to say as he laid face up on the blanket and wrapped his arms around himself.

Vlad smiled, shifting forward to remove the space between them. He remained on his knees with his legs parallel to Danny’s body, sitting so close that they were touching. “Very much necessary,” he answered, gently prying Danny’s arms away from himself and guiding them to his sides in a silent demand to keep them there.

Danny let out another shudder as the cold continued to nip at his skin, and he wondered if he should’ve listened to Vlad after all. His skepticism doubled when Vlad placed his large hands on his chest, palms flat against him. Danny peered up at him. “H-hey, you s-said—”

“Shh,” Vlad hushed.

Danny was about to protest again when he was ultimately silenced by his surprise from a strange but familiar sensation. His wide eyes shifted back down to Vlad’s hands.

“Feeling less like you just walked out of a blizzard?” Vlad asked.

“Yeah.” Danny kept his eyes on Vlad’s hands, feeling the cold within him quickly dissipate as a pleasant warmth bloomed from the center of his chest. “What is this? What’re you doing?” he asked, looking up at Vlad.

“Nothing, really. I’m simply using my unique ability to your advantage.”

“Huh?”

“Do you recall our conversation from earlier?”

Danny thought for a moment. “The one about your fire powers?”

“Precisely.”

“So, are you saying you’re using your fire powers to… warm me up?”

“Hm, your poor grades have given me the wrong impression of you. Looks like you’re not as dull-witted as I’d thought,” Vlad taunted with a smile. “But, yes, you are correct.”

Danny held his tongue, tempted to push Vlad away with a little help from his own powers. If only he wasn’t doing such a great job at keeping him warm. He looked back down at Vlad’s hands together with his near-naked form. “Weird. Using your powers for something like this, I mean. But I guess that explains why I needed to take my clothes off. It works better with direct contact, huh?”

“Oh, no. You didn’t need to be bare for this.”

Danny gave Vlad a deadpanned look.

“What? If I’m going to be sitting here, then I at least deserve something nice to look at, don’t you think?”

“Perverted old man,” Danny muttered, shifting slightly to get a little more comfortable—even if being half naked with two large hands on him made that a bit hard to do. “Uh, I appreciate the help, but does this mean we’re gonna have to stay like this until the morning?”

“As appealing as it sounds to have my hands on you all night long, I don’t think that will be necessary. I’m hoping I only need to warm you up enough for you to be able to pull through the night. Perhaps half an hour of this will be enough.”

“I hope so. Um, thanks,” Danny said quietly.

Vlad only offered another smile in response.

Suddenly more aware of how awkward the situation truly was, Danny turned his head away, staring at the fireplace as it continued to crackle and burn. He blamed the heat creeping up his neck on the steady rise of his body temperature. Why was he so embarrassed anyway? It’s not like it’s the first time Vlad has seen him without any clothes on. And even more than that.

Maybe it was the fact that Vlad was helping him—especially while he’s in such a vulnerable state. Now that was something he definitely wasn’t used to. After all the violent encounters they’ve had in the past, having Vlad look after him seemed like such a foreign concept. Heck, sometimes Danny still had trouble believing that they could be in the same room together without a fight breaking out.

It’s because they’re the only ones of their kind and it didn’t make sense for them to be going after each other’s throats. That’s what Vlad had told him anyway—along with a lengthy apology for all his mistakes. And, yeah, it was hard to believe him at first, but it was even harder to deny the truth behind his words. Thinking about it now, Danny couldn’t imagine going through something like this alone, where the only person who would be able to help him is…

“Are you feeling all right?”

Danny blinked. He looked up at Vlad before quickly turning away again. “Yeah. Uh. I was just thinking that—well, I guess we don’t need the fireplace anymore.”

“I suppose not. Though it helps make the setting more romantic, doesn’t it?”

Danny couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Sure. Me lying here in my underwear while you help me not freeze to death. So romantic.”

Vlad laughed quietly, and then the room fell silent again. The fireplace crackled and pop. More heat rose to Danny’s cheeks as he felt Vlad’s gaze on him, and he shifted his legs, keeping his knees together as a different kind of warmth gathered below his navel. He swallowed.

“Actually, you might’ve had the right idea earlier.”

“Huh?” Knowing he wouldn’t be able to meet Vlad’s eyes, Danny didn’t dare look up.

He tensed a bit when Vlad moved his hands. Thumbs ran over his nipples, rubbing them just enough to tease. “A good amount of physical activity does indeed heat up the body quite well.”

[ruanbaijie]

During the Republican Era, Shen Zhiheng, a member of the Tianjin gentry who happened to be a vampire, offended the Japanese and became the target of an assassination attempt. He was saved by a blind young lady, Mi Lan, and his best friend Situ Weilian. When he went to repay Mi Lan for saving him, he discovered the terrible family situation that Mi Lan was in, and so began to pay more attention to her. Meanwhile, Shen Zhiheng’s plan to take revenge on Li Yingliang, the mastermind behind his assassination, fell short of success thanks to Li Yingliang’s Japanese superior, raising suspicions about his identity. Since then, Li Yingliang and the Japanese were in hot pursuit of Shen Zhiheng, determined to dig out the truth about his secret.

Please do not repost this anywhere else or retranslate it!

MAIN DIRECTORY ☾ READ ON AO3 ☾ PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Li Yingliang was, in fact, worrying too much.

Shen Zhiheng was very busy today, and completely did not have any time to go and pay Li Yingliang a visit, because Situ Weilian had shown up at his doorstep in the middle of the night, making an unexpected comeback.

He familiarly strode through the front door, and saw Mi Lan in the parlour. Mi Lan was standing alone, with her head lowered as she looked at the wound on her knee. And just as he said hello to Mi Lan, Shen Zhiheng also entered, with a bottle of medicine in his hand.

Situ Weilian temporarily did not bother about Shen Zhiheng, first questioning Mi Lan, “Mi Lan, you’re really capable, I saved your life, and not only did you not repay me, you even beat my girlfriend.”

Mi Lan lowered her head, evidently quite guilty, “I’m sorry.”

Shen Zhiheng walked over, handing that bottle of medicine over to her as he made a hand gesture for her to leave. After she lowered her head and left, he finally turned to Situ Weilian, “Why are you here? To collect your promissory note?”

Situ Weilian pointed at the tip of his nose, “Shen Zhiheng, you’ve really got guts as well, beating your biological younger brother so viciously.”

Shen Zhiheng had just washed his face, but had not yet changed into a new set of clothes, and so flecks of blood still dotted the collar of his shirt. Turning around, he walked to the sofa and sat down, saying, “I don’t acknowledge you as my younger brother.”

“After looking for me for so many years, you don’t want me now?”

Shen Zhiheng raised his eyes and gazed at him, “So you do know too, that I’ve been looking for you for so many years.”

Situ Weilian sighed, raising his voice, “Stop going on and on about this!”

Shen Zhiheng shifted his gaze, scoffing.

Situ Weilian frowned and glared at him, annoyance growing in his heart. This older brother of his viewed himself too highly, always thinking of himself as a giant among men. Alas, fate did not favour him, and he was dirtied by the word “vampire”. Actually, in his opinion, this older brother was just so-so, and was pretty much just a wealthy man who was disgruntled and complained all the time. If he had a better brother - or servant - whom he could depend on, then he wouldn’t have to keep shamelessly returning to coax him.

He had come carrying a canvas satchel. He stretched his hand into the satchel, pulling out a large glass bottle that he slowly handed over to Shen Zhiheng. Dark red blood rippled in the glass bottle, and Shen Zhiheng’s eyes flashed, his gaze instantly glued onto that glass bottle.

Situ Weilian laughed to himself, yet his tone was earnest, “A gift for you, you don’t need to pay for it. I just request that you help me out, of course, whether you help or not is up to you, I won’t force you.”

Shen Zhiheng was a little annoyed, not at Situ Weilian, but at himself. He realised that he was becoming increasingly like an animal, and the most urgent thing in his life was eating. This glass of bottle before his eyes was enough to fill his mouth with saliva, and he actually had to focus on keeping his mouth shut to prevent his saliva from flowing out from the corners of his lips.

What an unbecoming sight!

He wanted to kick Situ Weilian out, but, instead, he opened his mouth, mumbling, “Speak.”

“Can you let Li Yingliang go? Don’t hide from me. Although Jin Jingxue has a bad temper, she is not muddleheaded. That she is willing to come and find you proves that she has evidence. I guess, is Li Yingliang locked in that empty warehouse at the pier? Actually, I’m all for killing Li Yingliang or cutting off his flesh, I’m all for it, after all, he has kidnapped me before. But Jin Jingxue simply cares too much about him, and if she doesn’t find him soon, she might fall in love with him.”

Shen Zhiheng swallowed his saliva, “What logic is that?”

Situ Weilian laughed, “I say, have you lived for so many years without once falling in love before?”

Shen Zhiheng did not answer.

“If Li Yingliang is safe and sound, then Jin Jingxue won’t know how much she cares about him. If she doesn’t know, then her heart won’t be moved by him. But now that Li Yingliang is missing, Jin Jingxue worries about him all day long. Over time, she will realise her feelings for him, and as a person who dares to love and dares to hate, once she realises that, it’s unavoidable that she might even seek death for Li Yingliang, and an admirer like me will be completely out of the game.”

“Then aren’t you deceiving yourself?” 

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

Shen Zhiheng suddenly smiled, “There’s a simpler solution. You turn her into a vampire, and she naturally won’t leave you. Aren’t you always trying to make me your servant? Second Young Mistress Jin is exceptionally beautiful and is the person you love, with her to wait on you for your entire life, you no longer have to bother me.”

“I said you’ve never fallen in love before, you’re truly inexperienced. I only love her, what do you mean my entire life?”

Shen Zhiheng raised an eyebrow at him, his expression one of surprise.

Situ Weilian felt that Shen Zhiheng’s line of thinking was simply ridiculous. “There are times that I love her, naturally, there will also be times in the future that I don’t love her. If I no longer love her, and yet we still have to be together day and night, wouldn’t that make me uncomfortable, and also make her uncomfortable? Wouldn’t that be harming others and myself? I wouldn’t do such an immoral thing.”

Shen Zhiheng said, “I still thought you had really fallen in love with her…”

“You still don’t understand. I’ve truly fallen in love with her. A true love, stemming from my soul, with a history, with a path, with growth, with maturity, with withering, with an end. True love is not necessarily staying together until the end, for an entire lifetime. To follow one’s heart and to treat each other with sincerity, that, is true love. Love is not something that can be measured with time.”

Shen Zhiheng nodded, “Thank you for your teachings.”

“Ultimately, you’re still unable to escape from the worldliness of humans, unlike me, pure and innocent.”

Shen Zhiheng continued nodding, “So you’re pure and innocent, pardon, I’ve disrespected you.”

Situ Weilian extended his arm, forcefully pulling out the rubber stopper at the mouth of the glass bottle. “Then are you willing to help me and let Li Yingliang go or not?”

The cold scent of blood wafted out, making Shen Zhiheng’s nostrils quiver. After improvising for so many days, he had yet to have a full meal. Animal blood always made him feel dirty, besides, even if it was dirty fresh blood, he still had to share some of it with Mi Lan. His head had yet to make up its mind, but his hand had already extended forward.

His palm wrapped around both the bottle and Situ Weilian’s hand, and with a light shining in his gaze, he said in a trembling voice, “Let go.”

Situ Weilian stumbled forward, as his hand and the glass bottle were raised up together by Shen Zhiheng to his lips. Shen Zhiheng raised his head, drinking quickly and in large, audible gulps. Watching him, Situ Weilian found it a little funny. Shen Zhiheng was an addict, while he was an opium merchant. How could Shen Zhiheng not realise such an obvious reality?

When Shen Zhiheng finished the glass bottle, he drew his hand back, patting the canvas satchel beside him, “There’s another one, you can put it in your refrigerator and drink it slowly. You’ll let Li Yingliang go tomorrow, okay?”

Shen Zhiheng sprawled onto the sofa, his eyes half shut. “Mm.”

Situ Weilian sent him a British army salute. “Thank you.”

Shen Zhiheng spat out a sigh, “Get lost.”

Shen Zhiheng was not a man of his word; he did not leave the house at all the next day. Meanwhile, neither did Situ Weilian come over again to create more trouble for him. In the afternoon, Situ Weilian brought a huge bag of medicine to visit Jin Jingxue, however, the main doors of the Jin mansion were shut tight, and a maidservant told him from behind the gate that the second young mistress had rushed to board a train that morning to return to her family home in Chahar [1] .

Upon hearing this, Situ Weilian felt as if he had been dropped into an ice cellar. When he asked the maidservant for the address of the Jin family home, that maidservant shook her head, replying “I don’t know” to all of his questions.

Situ Weilian was heartbroken, disappearing from then on. He no longer went to the hospital nor cared about anything else, and no one looked for him.

Shen Zhiheng spent the next two weeks in peace, safe and sound in his home, but war was raging in the city outside. The citizens, while angry and anxious on one hand, always thought that the flames of war would not burn into the bustling city on the other. Mi Lan listened to the radio broadcast daily and knew the matters of the war like the back of her hand, but she also always felt that the war was something faraway, and had nothing to do with her bright and shining world. Weren’t the restaurants and foreign firms in the English and French concession zones still open for business as usual? Weren’t people coming and going on the little street behind the Shen mansion as usual?

However, early one morning, she heard a piece of bad news: the Japanese army had started to attack Beiping [2] .

She wanted to tell Shen Zhiheng this piece of news, and Shen Zhiheng so happened to return home from outside.

As the warehouse rental was about to expire, he had left the house at dawn, intending to take care of Li Yingliang’s body. He really did not want to go, he didn’t know how to describe the feelings he had for this person. In any case, he neither wanted to see him alive, nor did he want to see him dead. This man was diabolical and harboured a deep hatred, and it seemed as if he was always bothered by affairs that filled his entire body with heart-wrenching pain. Whenever Shen Zhiheng thought of him, he would frown as if he was suffering in silence. If he was not even willing to think of him, what more see him? And so he kept on dragging it, and upon seeing the calendar this morning, he had realised that he could no longer drag it on, and had bitten the bullet and headed to the warehouse. Li Yingliang had been dead for so long, and his body should long have gone smelly; how was he supposed to take care of a heap of rotten meat? Even thinking about it had made his head hurt.

However, when he had held his breath and entered the warehouse, he had realised that Li Yingliang had long escaped.

He had stared at the small hole at the base of the wall, unable to imagine how Li Yingliang had squeezed out. This menace had quite the ability, and was even more capable than a typical rat at digging holes. If he had known earlier, he should have taken care of him on the spot. However, time cannot flow backwards, and since he had already escaped, Shen Zhiheng had no other choice.

As the saying went, “disasters live for thousands of years”; this was really accurate.

As if nothing had happened, he had locked the main gate and left the warehouse, returning home in his car. On the way, he had seen large numbers of citizens dragging their family and belongings with them as they headed for the concession zone.

It was only when he had entered the house and listened to Mi Lan’s report, when he became a little nervous, “The concession zone should be safe. Is there still rice in the kitchen?”

Mi Lan immediately jumped to check on the rice.

This panic lasted until the evening, when news came from the outside, that the Japanese army was about to send planes to bomb Tianjin. Once bombing really started, since bombs did not kill discriminately, who cared whether they were in the concession zone or not? So, all the lights in the surrounding area were turned off, and every house only dared to turn on a small dim lamp to light up the darkness. And right at this moment when everyone was panicky, Situ Weilian, who had disappeared for half a month, returned. 

Holding his canvas satchel, he boldly told Shen Zhiheng, “I’m here to seek refuge.”

Shen Zhiheng was quite surprised, “I was still under the impression that at a moment like this, you would be accompanying Jin Jingxue.”

Upon hearing this, Situ Weilian looked like he was about to cry. “Jingxue has returned to her family home and has gone back for a while. When she left, she didn’t inform me at all, she definitely doesn’t want me anymore! Da-ge, can you help me look for her? Without her, I can’t continue living, I’m even thinking of killing myself.”

Shen Zhiheng replied, “Our country is in crisis, and I don’t even have the time to take care of myself, how will I have any strength left to help you find your girlfriend?”

“What do you mean our country is in crisis, we’re not even human, what does the country in crisis have got to do with us?”

“I am human, so is Mi Lan.”

“Stubborn bastard [3] ,” Situ Weilian mumbled, but could not think of any other idea for the time being. Now, the outside was in chaos, and he had neither power nor connections; how could he look for Jin Jingxue all by himself?

Therefore, he realised that he truly still could not be apart from Shen Zhiheng. He only wanted to indulge as much as he could, only wanted to play and love to his heart’s content. As for every single matter apart from this, these were detestable, worldly affairs that he should leave to Shen Zhiheng to take care of.

The three of them made do in the parlour for a night.

Situ Weilian missed Jin Jingxue terribly and did not sleep for the entire night; Shen Zhiheng feared terribly that the Japanese army would bomb Tianjin and did not sleep for the entire night; Mi Lan hugged her knees and curled up in one corner of the sofa, terribly calm, and although she too did not sleep for the entire night, this was because she was full of energy and simply not sleepy.

At the same time, two other people who did not sleep were Jin Jingxue and Li Yingliang.

Jin Jingxue had claimed half a month ago that she was going home and had given her servants leave, only leaving behind her two closest maidservants. When everyone else had left, she had told the two maidservants the truth: Young Master Liang had offended a powerful figure, and had come to her mansion last night to seek refuge. In order to protect Young Master Liang, they had to make the house seem as if it had no master for the next few days, in case his enemies chased him all the way there.

And then, she had closed and locked up her door, tending to her wounds and recuperating together with Li Yingliang. Li Yingliang had been mentally deranged, startled by every little thing, for the first few days, and it was only after nearly a week, when he had been finally able to sleep deeply at night. And another week later, he had pretty much regained the reason and appearance of a person.

Just like any normal person, he was also worried about the bombs, and would let Jin Jingxue and the two maidservants sleep at night, while he stayed up to keep watch with a small lamp. Jin Jingxue did not sleep, sitting in a corner as she knitted a sweater with two long bamboo needles. Everything she did in her life was for fun, and even this sweater was knitted perfunctorily.

Sitting by the desk, Li Yingliang folded a piece of cardboard into a lampshade, and he placed it over the lightbulb. 

Then, he said to Jin Jingxue who was beside the table, “Stop knitting, it’s too dark. Your eyes will get tired.”

Jin Jingxue looked at him in surprise. He was sitting with his waist and back ramrod straight, and when the light shone up at him from below, it strongly accentuated his face. His dark eyebrows were slanted diagonally and the corners of his eyes lifted up along the same path, like a famous actor in a photograph.

After looking at him, she displayed that small product in her hands, “Make a guess, what am I knitting?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either. If I’m lazy, it’s a scarf. If I’m diligent, perhaps it will become a sweater. Whether it’s a scarf or a sweater, it will depend on your luck.”

Li Yingliang looked at her. “It’s for me?”

She raised her thin eyebrows, continuing to knit. “It’s for the dog.”

Li Yingliang extended his arm and gently took her needle and thread. “Stop knitting, it’s too troublesome. If I want to wear one, I’ll just buy a ready-made one.”

Jin Jingxue asked, “Are you really concerned about me? Or do you not want to owe me a favour? If it’s for the former, I thank you. If it’s the latter, then if you’re so capable, don’t stay in my house, you can leave now.”

Li Yingliang arranged the bamboo needles and thread for a while, and then he looked at the lamp and sighed, “Of course I can’t stay here forever.”

“Then where do you want to go? Leave, I won’t make you stay.”

Li Yingliang suddenly asked, “Second Young Mistress, you said you’ve seen Yokoyama Akira in my house before, and that he seemed to be sympathetic to me?”

“Ah? You aren’t thinking of defecting to the Japanese devils again, are you? They’re even already opening fire on us, and yet you still want to continue being a Chinese traitor? Besides, you caused those secret documents or whatever to be leaked onto the newspapers, will they spare you? If you go to see the Japanese, isn’t that the same as courting death?”

“Yokoyama Akira and I have the same interests. He won’t kill me easily.”

“Forget it! Follow me home after a few days, you’re always welcome there.”

Li Yingliang shook his head, “Escaping is useless. You truly don’t know how powerful the Japanese are. Sooner or later, they will occupy the whole China, and no matter where you run to, the result will be the same. In any case, if we’re going to be slaves of a defeated nation anyway, I might as well just strike first. Besides, I’ve already sold so many years of my life for the Japanese and Yokoyama Akira also appreciates me a lot, I have a foundation. As long as Yokoyama Akira is willing to give me a chance, I can immediately make a comeback.”

“Why do you want to make a comeback? If you want money, I can give it to you. You don’t have to make a comeback!”

“It’s not a matter of money, I want power.” He lowered his voice, “I must make a comeback, if not, the Japanese want to kill me, Shen Zhiheng wants to kill me, I can’t hide together with you forever.”

Jin Jingxue completely could not understand Li Yingliang’s thinking, and was also too lazy to argue with him. Picking up her tools, she continued knitting, but was unable to knit stably, as the sound of gunfire still echoed in the distance from time to time, causing her to be terror-stricken.

After that night, Beiping fell, and the Japanese warplanes started bombing Tianjin [4] .

------------------------------------------------------------

A province of the Republic of China that is now part of Inner Mongolia, Hebei, and Beijing.

This puts the date at around 25 July 1937.

The phrase used here is 死鸭子嘴硬 (sǐ yā zi zuǐ yìng) which can be literally translated as “dead duck, hard mouth”, which figuratively refers to someone being very stubborn.

According to this Wikipedia page (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Beiping%E2%80%93Tianjin), the Japanese actually started attacking Tianjin on 29 July at dawn, and Tianjin fell to the Japanese the night of 30 July. Meanwhile, Beiping (i.e. Beijing) was only fully captured by the Japanese on 8 August. I’m not sure if this is an intentional twist of events on the author’s part to fit the narrative, if it really happened this way, or if I interpreted wrongly (heh).

[imthepunchlord]

Thief

Read more here.

.

Momo was starting to get a bit irritated. 

Her clothes were starting to disappear on her. Mindful, Momo was the sort to share. She shared her clothes plenty of times with her friends, mainly Vamola and Aira when they needed something to wear. If something was gone, it was usually with them. But the odd thing was the lack of baggy clothes.

While Vamola had no gripe about what she wore, Aira did. 

Momo’s baggy attire was not an option, so they were not with her. 

And Vamola lived with them. Vamola was not a clothes thief and always brought the borrowed clothes back. And Momo had gone out of her way to check Vamola’s room, her baggy clothes weren’t there. 

So where the hell were they? 

Faintly, she heard Okarun call out as he arrived, ready to help her with her homework. Huffing to herself, Momo acknowledged that she just had to save this mystery for another day. Hopefully, they’ll turn up, or maybe she’ll discover she’s being haunted by some mischievous yokai that’s stealing her clothes for fun. 

Coming out of her room, her gaze turned to Okarun just as he looked up towards her, his lips turning up into a fond, adoring smile. 

One Momo didn’t return, an inner fire of outrage flaring to life at what she saw. 

Okarun was wearing her lost shirt.

"Momo?" he asked in concern.

“OKARUUUUN!” she screeched out immediately, starting to race down the stairs towards him.

“Momo?!” he cried out in alarm, instinctively turning and running away, igniting the chase. 

They booked it through the house, Momo snarling his name while Okarun cried out in fear and protest. They earned an angry yowl from Turbo Granny as they barely dodged her in their frantic rush. They startled Vamola as she was heading out of her room, who stared after them in confusion before grinning and started to run after them. 

“Momo! Takakura! Fight! Fight! Fight!” Vamola cheered. 

“I’m going to get you!” Momo snarled. 

“What did I even do?!” Okarun demanded frantically. 

“No running in my house!” Seiko snapped aloud as they rushed past the kitchen, flinging some water their way. 

Okarun barely dodged it and hurried outside, Momo hot on his tail. 

Vamola though slowed down and pointed to the water, offering, “I help clean!” 

“Vamola, you’re a gift,” Seiko declared, nodding sagely as the alien girl did as she bid. 

Outside, Okarun ignited in speed, no more cramped spaces to limit him, easily getting ahead of Momo who was just coming down the porch steps. 

“Don’t even think of cheating!” she snapped, using her telekinesis to reach for him. 

“You’re using your power!” he snapped back, dodging one of her “hands”. He tried to reach for the cursed power, and was startled to feel resistance. It was as if it didn’t want to manifest against Momo. 

If he could, he would shake it, insisting that Momo wasn’t given them much of a choice! 

In his distraction, Momo grabbed him, and without his power to push against her grasp, reeled him back, right towards her.

She had a second to realize the consequences of her actions before Okarun slammed into her, sending them both to the ground, and earning a grunt from Momo. 

“Miss Ayase!” Okarun cried out frantically, scrambling to get up, to get his weight off of her, to see if she was ok. 

Only to get grabbed by her and brought back down. 

Okarun went still, his face going red as their noses squished together, her hands on his shoulders, and her pink-brown eyes glaring into his own. He couldn’t help but gulp at the intensity of the closeness, his heart hammering from adrenaline and their position. 

So close, that if he just moved a little��� 

“I got you, you damn thief,” she murmured in a growl, snapping him out of his daze. 

He blinked. “Eh?” 

“Don’t you ‘eh’ me!” she snapped, suddenly sitting up, earning a squeal as he was now in her lap . Momo didn’t notice, too caught up in her upset. “You’ve been stealing from me?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Okarun pleaded, raising his hands up in surrender. 

She grabbed his shirt and shook it. “This! This is my shirt! Why do you have it?!”

Oh. 

Okarun blushed, turning away sheepish. He reached up to adjust his glasses, mumbling, “I, I’m sorry, I’ll return it immediately—”

 “Answer the question!” Momo demanded, shaking him a little. 

“I, I took it to help.” 

Momo paused at that, turning to him in confusion. “Hah? What do you mean to help?” 

Okarun’s face went redder. Momo narrowed her eyes at him but waited as Okarun collected his flustered courage. “At night, um, I’ve discovered that I’ve been sleep shifting. And I’ll wake up to find myself trying to leave, and I, I think I’m trying to come here. To you.”

Momo blinked at him in surprise. “Really?” 

Okarun covered his face as he continued, “A-and when you went on your trip, I discovered having your blanket helped me from trying to follow after you, it kept me home because it… because it…” Gosh, this was so embarrassing. He didn’t know if he could finish. But as Momo continued to stare at him, Okarun very quietly admitted, “Because it smelled like you.”

Surprised, Momo couldn’t stop the snort that bubbled up. “That’s it?”

“Miss Ayase, please!”

“Wha, no don’t turn away, that’s actually really cute,” Momo said, leaning over, trying to meet his eyes. “Seriously, though, why didn’t you just ask?” 

Face red, Okarun admitted, “Because it’s embarrassing.” And to himself, he added that she did have a tendency to be forgetful, and she had so many clothes. He didn't think she'd notice. But of course she would notice if he came wearing one of clothes. He just hadn't even thought about it. Wearing something of hers, her scent lingering on the shirt, it just brought him comfort, helped him feel close to her even when they were apart.

Gosh, he was such a sap. It was so embarrassing.

 Momo just giggled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him close into a hug, her smile growing as his heated face pressed against hers, though Okarun returned her hug. Quietly, he murmured, “I’m sorry for stealing your clothes. I, I should’ve asked. I can return them if you need them.”

“You’re good keeping them,” Momo eased. “Just let me know next time. That way I won’t chase you down next time.” 

…Okarun didn’t have the will or courage to admit he kinda liked being chased by her… 

[fancyfeathers]

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Eight -> Next Chapter

Taglist: @jsprien213 @toast-on-dandelioms @plsfckmedxddy @lilyalone @sydneyyyya @yandere-wishes @cxcilla @nemesis-writer

“Miss Wayne, any comments about your disappearance?”

“Miss Wayne, where have you been for the last four years?”

“Miss Wayne, does your father, Bruce Wayne, approve of your engagement to Gabriel Christel?”

“Who will you be wearing at your wedding?”

“Miss Wayne, will you family be invited to your wedding?”

“Miss Wayne…”

“Miss Wayne…”

“Miss Wayne!”

A sudden flash of a camera made you flinch and stumble backwards, an environment you had once lived in and you were now being thrown back into.

You had returned to the penthouse after you woke up at Selina Kyle’s apartment, arriving just in time for breakfast with Gabriel, his parents, and a new hired wedding planner, but they did not last long because their idea of some high class celebrity wedding that felt tacky and just for show, all about guest lists and who is going to be wearing what. They tried to push back on your wants, you two were very high profile people and your wedding should match, but even that was breaking point for Gabriel, he snapped at the wedding planner, telling them to leave, or rather yelling at them to leave.

So now you had just been dropped off at Gabriel's mother's boutique for some sort of surprise after you and Gabriel did some of your own wedding planning after breakfast. You just did not expect the swarm of gossip column reporters and paparazzi, even if you grew up with it you were no longer used to it, you felt like an absolute deer in the headlights.

“Excuse me, but Miss Wayne is taking no questions at this time.” Like she was your hero, the doors to the famous fashion’s designer boutique opened up and a hand came to rest upon your shoulder, like your guardian angel Mrs. Christel came to your rescue, pulling you away from the press and back towards her fashion house. “Please save all questions for a later date when Miss Wayne is ready for a proper interview.”

You heard their shouts of protest as you were tugged back into her building, leaving the press stuck outside, still shouting their questions. You breathed a sigh of relief as you watched the doors close behind you as you walked deeper into the designer’s gallery, your future mother in law interlocking your arm with hers.

“Reporters and paparazzi, they are like rats or cockroaches.” She sighed. Her hand squeezes around your arm. “Even when you think you have stomped them out and think they are dead, they always come back, desperate for another taste.”

“I… I don’t know about all of that.” You muttered, feeling yourself shrink into yourself. “A-anyway, what is the surprise?”

“It is not my surprise, I just helped plan, closing the doors of my humble boutique to the public for a few hours.” Humble was not the exact words you were looking for, this was a high end fashion boutique, the most esteemed in the city, perhaps practically in all of the East Coast, the place had marble flooring and crystal chandeliers. She led you into one of the departments of the boutique, the wedding dress department which was only open to appointments and there you saw two very familiar ladies.

“M-mom! Selina!” You yelled out, running over to the woman sitting on one of the white velvet sofas along with Selina, glasses of champagne in both of their hands, though your mother passed hers over to Selina as you came running into her arms, nearly knocking her over and off the couch she sat on and the sound of hers and your laughter filled the empty designer boutique.

“Miss Kyle contacted me earlier this morning before breakfast and asked if I could set this up.” Your future mother in law smiled, walking back to the dress racks, seemingly where she had already picked a few dresses out, along with your mother and Selina no doubt before you got here. “But you Mrs. Wayne, I have not seen you in ages, truly a sight for sore eyes, but how ever did Miss Kyle get you out of that manor your husband owns?”

“Trust me when I say you don’t want to know.” Your mother replied as you scooted over to sit next to her on the sofa she sat on. You certainly knew what that meant when she said that, Selina snuck her out, probably when everyone in the manor was still asleep. “Let’s just say my husband will not be happy when he realizes I am gone.”

You definitely knew now that Selina snuck her out.

“Well it is a shame your husband and other children do not approve of the union of our daughter and son, it would be nice to have Bruce Wayne’s blessing, then perhaps we could finally get along.” Your fiancé’s mother sighed, taking back the dresses that were already picked out and hanging them up in the dressing room which was connected to this little lounge you all found yourself in. “Oh I remember that time where your little Damian got all up in knots over your daughter kissing my son, that was sure to be an interesting meeting with the principal.”

“Ah yes… my apologies, that was an unfortunate chain of events, my stepson has always been protective over my little girl, she is his little sister and his blood sister no less.” Your mother’s hand trailed down to your own, giving it a soft squeeze. “Besides Damian has always had his anger issues and over protective tendencies, the ladder is something he very much inherited from his father I believe.”

“That reminds me, who is Damian’s mother? You are his stepmother so it is not you and he is not adopted like the rest.” Your future mother in law leaned against the door of the dressing room, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “Don’t tell me the Brucie Wayne had an affair with another woman while he was with you during your original engagement to him.”

“No… Damian was something… actually you really do not want to know that one.”

______________________

“Hmm, I don’t know, I quite liked the lace one.”

“Yes, but that one is a very select taste, maybe we stick with the silk.”

“I think the plunging neckline looked quite pretty on you, that way you can wear a statement necklace.”

You have lost count of all the dresses you have tried on for the three older women, they were probably having more fun out of this than you were at this point, having you dress up like a doll.

“I need a break.” You sighed dramatically as you leaned yourself up against the open dressing room door, glancing back at the older women in the room. “How many more dresses are there?”

“Well I have about a dozen dresses a designer friend of mine sent me from their boutique in Barcelona.” Your future mother in law commented which made you groan loudly and Gabriel’s mother glanced at your mother and she smiled, reaching for a white paper bag that is reminiscent of the ones you would get with a purchase from a designer store. “But I suppose there is just one more for today.”

“What is it?”

“This was my mother’s wedding dress and her mother’s wedding dress. I am the one who didn’t wear it because it is so important to our family and I didn’t feel like I deserved to wear it on my wedding day, but maybe you would like to wear it.” She walked towards you, handing you the bag with the dress inside.

“Thank you, mom.” You smiled at her, swallowing down any crying so as to not make a scene and ruin the happy moment you all were having. You let her push you back into the dressing room and close the door once you were inside.

You set the bag down on the small bench in the dressing room and you pulled out the dress from the bag and for how old it is the dress was in perfect condition. It was an older style, the top was covered in lace that created a transparent turtleneck with long sleeves and the underdress made up charmeuse with a sweetheart neckline and tulle puffing out the skirt a little bit, sort of a toned down version of a Victorian style wedding dress. You had seen photos of your grandmother and your great grandmother wearing this dress before, but your mother never wanted to, her marriage did not deserve such a privilege in her own eyes.

You slipped on your mother’s family’s heirloom dress pull the sleeves over your arms and the lace was soft, not itchy like you imagined, but when you tried to reach to the back and button it up since it had no zipper you could not quite reach them or see them. You sighed and opened the dressing room door, peaking your head to look at your mom. “Hey mom, could you help me button up the back? I can’t quite reach the buttons on it.”

“Yes, of course, my sweetness.” She replied to your request, standing up from where she sat next to Selina and your future mother in all, walking into the dressing room with you and closing the door behind her. She pulled your hair over your shoulder before her hands began to make quick work of buttoning up the back of your dress, her nimble and quick fingers doing her best to get a hold of the small fabric buttons. “You look so beautiful, I am so happy for you my darling little girl… I just wish I could be there, but you know…”

“I understand mama, life… life has been rough on us, especially you.” You sigh, slightly flinching as you feel her icy cold, freezing hand brush up against your bare skin over your spine. “But at least we have this, right?”

“…right.” She sighed, her face turning sorrowful before you watched her form a bittersweet smile across her lips. “You are going to make the most beautiful bride, I just know it, and I see it as well in this moment now.”

“I love you mom.”

“I love you more, my little bug.”

Eventually your mother finished and opened the dressing room door and you were entirely prepared for the doting comments from Selina and your future mother in law but instead you got assaulted with a mesh of black fabric being thrown right at your face. You caught the dress, a black wedding dress for those who were more their style.

“Wear that one, it fits.” Your body tensed up as you heard an all too familiar voice, Damian. Your eyes shot up to look at your older brother across the room and walking towards you and his current state of anger was clear. Selina was just sitting there on the velvet sofa, sighing and shaking her head in clear disappointment, meanwhile your future mother in law was busy taking out her phone and calling up her security, all while wondering how he even got past them and into her boutique.

“It’s my wedding, not my funeral, Damian.” You snap back at him, settting the black wedding dress down on the white velvet sofa next to Selina as Damian grabbed your mother by her wrist and began dragging her out of the room, but not before he looked back at you, a glare like daggers in his eyes.

“It might as well be.”

There was a silent gasp that escaped your lips as he spoke those words, your lips agape in shock at his hurtful words and your brow furrowed as he turned away from you, pulling your mother out, you can only imagine the scolding she is going to get on the ride back to the manor and the scolding she will get back at the manor as well.

You broke…

You fell to your knees crying…

Your heart broke, being hurt by a person you always told yourself you hated.

______________________

You left the boutique shortly after your mother was taking away by Damian, Selina left with you but you decided to tell her that you were walking home, well the penthouse, since the paparazzi was long gone by now. In actuality you were not going back to the manor, you lied to Selina.

You stepped into a back alley, it was about a block away from the boutique and three blocks away from the building the penthouse was in on the top floor. Your heart pounded in your chest as you unzipped your white Italian leather purse, a designer brand which was a gift from your future father in law, and you pulled out that beautiful silk scarf you had been gifted by Talia Al Ghul. Your hands were shaking as you wrapped it around your neck, your breathing growing unsteady.

You closed your eyes as if by clockwork you felt two other presences in the ally way, barely hearing the footsteps of the two members of the League of Assassins, looks like they have been following you.

“Just… don’t leave any visible bruises please, I can’t explain them to my in-laws.”

“My lady, if we did that we would be a good as dead.”

That was the last thing you heard before you felt a swift finger press against a pressure point on your neck and your body grew rigid, numb. You could of sworn you felt something being pressed against your lips and nose but you could not quite process that or anything, everything just felt numb…

Being kidnapped was just like falling asleep.

______________________

Your body felt as if it was as heavy as metal as you woke up from your drug induced sleep, you opened your eyes but everything was blurry, you still could not feel anything in your body, you could barely hear anything either, it was as if your ears were stuffed with cotton.

Your fingers felt ice cold, it was like they had been soaking in ice water from the Arctic Ocean. The feeling of a freezing cold like numbness made you panic for a moment, almost thinking your fingers would fall off or maybe your entire hands would.

Your head had a roaring headache, the type you could get after falling from a building and getting a severe concussion, but that was quickly fading away as you felt hands push you to sit up, hands maneuvering you as if you were a porcelain doll or a puppet or marionette.

Being moved around made you painfully aware of the stiffness in your spine, as if a metal rod ran through it, unable to move it probably.

You heard voices, but they were muffled and you could not quite hear what they were saying nor process their moving figures, just blurs. There was someone sitting in front of you, someone you could think was man by the outline of his build. The other was a woman sitting next to you, the one making you sit up, she was saying something to you, something you could not quite process and you felt her warm hand on your cheek, her thumb running circles on your cheek, it was something soothing from what you could process. You felt the woman’s free hand reach for something on a table, a cup, it was warm, if you were less lucid you may have mistaken it for tea, but you could smell it, it was sharp and pungent, the very scent of the hot liquid snapping your senses back into place, your control over taste, touch, sight, hearing, all flooding back to you thanks to your sense of smell.

You found yourself coughing, choking on your saliva due to the sudden shock, and you felt the woman’s hand on your back running soothing circles as her other had stroked your cheek. You could barley hear your own heartbeat, you could hear your own heavy breathing an comments, the sudden sensory overload making your body want to vomit but your stomach was already empty at the moment.

“Shh… just breathe, my dearest.” Your eyes snapped open wide at the sound of a familiar and feminine voice, your head turned to the side as your body was still hunched over from your coughing, and you looked up to see a familiar woman, albeit dressed far more comfortably than the sort of thing she wore during the times you encountered her in the nights of Gotham. You felt her hand on your cheek pinch slightly, it was affection you think, as she smiled down at you. “How are you feeling, dearest?”

“F-fine…” You cleared your throat as you forced yourself to sit up straight again. Your body felt tense as you felt another set of eyes upon you from across where you and Talia sat next to each other.

“That is good, after all it has been far too long.” You felt fear itself course through your very veins as you heard the man’s voice who sat across from you and his own daughter. You kept yourself from shaking as you turned your head to look him in the eyes, his bright green eyes sending intense shivers down your spine. You had only met him once or twice before, and neither time could be described as exactly peaceful, both were times you were dragged along by Damian after you were caught after you snuck out of the manor to go to parties or your friend’s houses in high school and you had gotten caught up in his family drama on your way home all while trying to get away from your own.

The far older man smiled at you, a smile you would have placed as a kid or affectionate if you did not know who this was, and knowing who this man was just made you want to shrink into yourself and pretend this was not happening.

“We have much to discuss, my dear.”

You sat across, trapped in a room with Ra’s Al Ghul.

[muse-hodgepodge]

"Heh, I mean if I weren't born with power like that then yeah I'd probably be slow acclimating too... Though I think with how cautious and aware of this fear you are you're probably fine bud." In a way Sans was slightly jealous of her power but not by much. Sure, quite a number of issues could likely be solved but would it in the long run? He didn't know.

When Reyna speaks about potentially breaking the barrier he has to think on it for a moment. If she was that powerful then it could break no problem and that would be good for them save for one small problem... Would it last? Wait, if she was essentially a goddess then... Hm. "Hey... Y'know, it might work, but before we run all that way to find out can I check ya out first? It's something I've been trying to do this whole time if I'm honest since it's part of my job but given what you are my efforts were kind of in vain..." He still has an easy grin though his eyes do quickly dart behind her as if he's looking behind her as what sounds like a massive crack sounded.

"Plus I don't know exactly how much time we have before the major problem with you helping comes along. Shit if that was the bran-- no wait here it comes, go wait over there and do not let the kid see you got it? I'm begging you and I'll explain in just a minute." The skeleton points to the dense wood cover nearby as he teleports away. Soon enough a human child is walking up the path with more confidence than a lost human child in the snowy woods should have. Were they covered in dust as well?

Soon enough the child passes by the area looking determined, then there's what sounds like a massive canon firing and after a few more minutes Sans teleports back looking a bit more drained than before, clearly rattled and leaning against a tree and shaking his head as blood comes from his mouth. "W-Well... Can't say I've seen them do this before... Should be... any second now... Heh, bud, seems my explanation is gonna have to wait..." He turns his attention to where he told Reyna to hide, "wh-when ya find me again just mention Gaster okay...? Head East of here..." Not too long after that his body dissolves into dust but maybe a few minutes later the world gains a massive glitched effect before Sans' dust and clothes vanish in the blink of an eye and the snow didn't look disturbed in the slightest.

Then at the same time in his home Sans jerks upright in his bed and stares out at the wall as if he was just struck by massive dejavu... again but the memories were still too fuzzy. He just knew one thing and that it must have been a reset. Despite the overwhelming desire to just return to bed and ignore this time something pushed him out of it, got him dressed and had him heading towards his sentry post with his brother. Who knows... Maybe it'll be different this time...

Reyna nodded. "It's crazy to think I am still, really. It's quite overwhelming, and I've taken slow to fully acclimating to begin with. I don't want to end up like how the old gods in my world were like." She admits, a bit sad. It was one of those things that she feels like she'll never fully be able to rid herself of. That fear that permeates the power she holds. She ignores that for now, and focuses back on what Sans says about the barrier.

"Well, with the strength I have, I might be able to do it. I don't know how powerful human magic is in this world, but I'm more than willing to see what I can do to help you all out." She offers. It was natural inclination, really. People in need, she's already offering help. Small trouble, monumental trouble, it doesn't matter which. She'll be there to help wherever she can, however she can. It's one of the benefits of this power: There's a lot that she can do to help.

[emoanemo]

some screenshots of my rook! their name is mars mercar, a rogue archer and member of the shadow dragons. terrible at reading the room and makes jokes at every possibly opportunity 🤦 somehow ended up falling for neve, otherwise gets along well with everyone except emmerich cuz they have very different opinions on immortality and death.

[birdmenmanga]

guy who has only read kekkaishi, watching interstellar for the first time: wow this guy is soooo sumikocore

[lululeighsworld]

holds a mic up to FE14 characters who have interesting dynamics with Gunter and asks them what they think of his relationship with Leigh ❤️💜

blank template can be found here!! GunterLeigh art is by @/pinkprincessia-art, everything else is cipher + 4koma!

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

minor but frustrating things about veilguard: your wardrobe is in your bedroom. you know the place where scenes auto trigger if you try to go into it. so if you want to say turn off an appearance for your casual wear before a romance scene, you simply cannot do that unless you replay 4-5 hours of game and boss fight