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bloody-peach · 1 year ago

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Eat Me, Drink Me (Hazbin Hotel: Vox x F!Reader smut fic)

(Gif made by me, original image found on google images)

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Now Playing: Muse - Sing for Absolution, Marilyn Manson - Blood Honey

Goodie bag: vaginal sex, drugs (aphrodisiac), vaginal fingering, clit rubbing, drinking, dom Vox, bottom Y/N, vanilla stuff around the end [let me know if i missed anything!]

A/N: Yep, had to make some smut with Vox now, didn't I? Welp, here ya go! I would recommend listening to the recommended songs while reading this, to get into the atmosphere. Headphones required, just for added experience. ENJOY!!

Taglist: @omniuravity @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered @neonvehk

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You left the Hotel, exhausted. You had to deal with Niffty trying to kill new guests, Angel Dust’s bullshit with Cherri Bomb, and Husk drinking his life away on top of all the other duties you had there. But the worst of the worst was Alastor, he always loved to torment you and make you suffer or feel scared. Even now as you walk further away from the building, you could still hear his laugh deep in your mind. At least you were able to leave for the night, but you always felt like someone was watching you. Someone....much more powerful than you.

Vox, the TV Demon, has had his eye on you for some time, ever since he caught you on the hotel’s TV commercial. He remembers pausing the clip when it froze on you and he’d jack off, just imagining of what he could do to you. He was obsessed. And he decided that tonight was the night.

You kept walking when you heard electricity buzzing. You looked and it was just a broken neon sign, but it still left you uncomfortable. You kept walking, but the buzzing came back. You started to quicken your pace to try to escape the noise or the potential source of it, but it just kept following you, even when you started to run. You then run into a brick wall, realizing you must’ve turned a wrong way while you ran. You just turned with your back against the wall, unable to escape. You saw a glowing blue square in the dark along with small blue zaps of electricity spreading through the area. Soon, the thing came closer to reveal it was Vox, the overlord that controlled the masses through the visual media. You had never met him before, but you felt a sense of dread, thinking this was another guy just like Alastor. Once he came close to you, he said, “It’s nice to finally meet you, darlin'.” You sigh in mild annoyance and say, “Look, I just...Alastor already torments me. If you just want to make my life a living hell like he does, then don’t bother. I don’t need another demon doing it too.” You didn’t have anything against him in particular, you were just too stressed out to deal with another demon who wanted to watch you suffer.

Vox’s red eyes flickered with a mix of confusion, then it turned to deep-seated rage. “Alastor...” he snarled. He controlled himself and then looked at you, with a slightly annoyed look in his face. “Is that why you were running? Because of that radio trash?” He put his hands behind his back, and said, “You know I’m not like him, right? I ain’t the type to get off to torturing folks. Well, not much at least. But you’re different.” He smiled as he placed his hand on your shoulder, “I don’t want to see you suffer, Y/N. I...well, i’m not entirely sure what I want with you.” He looked a little sheepish, an emotion you didn’t expect from him, but he quickly fixed himself and played with a strand of your hair. “But I do know I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I don’t plan on hurting you.”

You wondered why he knew your name, but then another thought came to mind. “Wait...you know Alastor?” He then chuckled, saying, “Do I know him? I wish I didn’t. That motherfucker and I go way back. Can’t stand him, frankly. He’s all about radio and all that outdated shit, but me? I’m all for anything new, as you can see.” He then petted your head. “Has he been giving you a hard time? Of course he would, he always enjoys that kind of shit. You poor thing.” His gaze softened as you put your head down, your expression full of fear and sadness, due to those traumatic memories. Vox gently grabbed your chin and brought your head up to look at him, saying with an unusual tenderness, “I promise you, Y/N, I ain’t like that. I can be...different. If you’d let me.”

You got the sense that he seemed to care for your struggles, but you’ve been in Hell for a long time. Very rarely have you encountered a person who actually cared about anyone. The only ones you knew of were Charlie and Vaggie, and out of all of Hell, that’s saying something. How can you trust what this man was saying? How can you be sure he isn’t out to hurt you or take advantage of you?

You look away from him, your face still holding that sad expression. “I want to believe you, but...how do I know you’re not just manipulating me? This is Hell, after all. Hard to find a genuine soul around here.” Vox sighed, the sound of static echoing through the alleyway. His eyes held a look of understanding, a flash of empathy. “Can’t say I blame ya for thinkin’ that way,” he admitted. “This place isn’t exactly known for its honesty.” He petted your head again, this time almost touching his forehead on yours, his voice going soft. “I don't know if I can promise you heaven, Y/N. But what I can promise you is that I ain’t here to make your life more miserable than it already is.” He then extended his hand, a smile on his face, “How about we try something? No tricks, no manipulation. Just you and I. See where it goes.”

You think about it. Well, he did seem pretty convincing, and whatever he had to offer had to be much better than what you have to deal with on a day-to-day basis.

You sigh and say as you shake his hand, “Ok.” Vox’s screen lit up with a cheerful grin as he felt your hand in his, the cool electricity sparking between your fingers. “That’s more like it, Y/N!” He said as he shook your hand. He let go of your hand and stepped back with a flourish. “Now let’s get outta this dump. If we’re gonna be...whatever we are, we might as well do it in style.” He then had an idea, his eyes glowing with excitement. “How about we head to my place? The entertainment district ain’t much, but it beats this shithole any day.” His usual cocky smile returned, the light of his screen casting a glow around the alley. “Besides, I’ve got the best view in Hell. You won’t be disappointed, I can assure you.” You smile, liking the idea. “Ok, that sounds real nice.”

You end up following him to his place and you’re amazed at how luxurious it was. Expensive furniture, so clean you could eat off of the floor, and a couch in front of a large window, showing the hellish night sky. You look out the window and he could see your eyes sparkle with delight as you marveled his abode. “Wow...you can see all of Hell from up here!” He chuckled as he crossed his arms, finding your joy adorable. He could get used to making you this happy. “Told ya, didn’t I? Best view in Hell.” He strode over to join you by the window, his eyes looking down at the fiery grounds below. “You get a good look at this place, you realize it ain’t all that bad. Got its charms, don’t it?” You turn to him and you nod. He turns to look at you, a genuine smile lighting up his screen. “Glad you like it, Y/N. Hopefully it makes your whole...situation a bit more bearable.” His gaze lingered on you for a few moments longer before he turned away to the bar, his screen showing an unclear emotion. “Now, how ‘bout a drink? I got a stash of the finest bourbon in all of Hell. Helps take the edge off.” “A drink sounds great. Thanks.”

He smiles to himself, knowing that you were slowly starting to warm up to him. “One helluva drink, coming right up!” As he grabs the bottle of bourbon, he then had a thought. He sat the bourbon down and dug out a small vial from the inside of his tux. It was a bottle of Valentino and Velvette’s ‘Love Potion’, an aphrodisiac they were collaborating on. Val gave him a bottle as a gift, but he never thought of using it. But knowing what Y/N had been going though day by day, dealing with that radio fucker’s bullshit all the time, he figured that maybe you needed a little something to help you relax, to feel pleasure and bliss instead of pain and fear. It’s not a betrayal of your trust if there’s good intentions behind it, right?

He pours the potion into the bourbon and mixed it, making sure Y/N wasn’t looking. “This stuff’s got a kick like a mule, but it’s smooth. Just like me.” He chuckles at his own joke, and he hears her giggle along with it. Oh, how he adored that laugh and how he hoped that once his plan worked, he would hear more of it, along with other lovely sounds. Once he poured a glass for himself, he brought the glasses to the couch, giving you the tainted drink and offering you to sit on the couch with him. You couldn’t help but blush a tiny bit from how he looked, the way he was sitting, offering you to join him in a moment to yourselves. You sat next to him, a bit shy, but soon relaxing in the couch. Vox raised his glass, the light from his screen reflecting from the swirling liquor. “To new beginnings, Y/N. May they be as interesting as the journey here.” With that, you both clinked your glasses together, the sound echoing through the room as you both take a long sip, his eyes never leaving you. Luckily, you didn’t notice his gaze as you downed the drink completely.

You could handle bourbon pretty well, that’s pretty much what Husk served at the bar usually, but never as high quality as this. “Man, this stuff is really good. Sweeter than any other bourbon I’ve had.” ‘Yeah, that’s the love potion that’s doing that,’ Vox thought in his head. He smirks, watching you enjoy the drink. His heart pounded in his chest, light flicks of static on his screen due to anticipation. “Glad ya like it, Y/N. It’s a special brand, adds a bit of sweetness to the usual burn. Perfect for those wanting to unwind.” He couldn’t deny the thrill he felt, seeing you this relaxed and comfortable in his presence, even if it was artificially manufactured. He knew it must’ve been a rare sight, one he’d yearned to see for a while now.

He finishes his drink, sitting his empty glass on the coffee table. “Feeling better, sweetheart?” He asks, a tinge of genuine concern in his voice. As he asked that, you started to feel a change in your body. You started to feel way more relaxed, your mind beginning to feel a bit hazy. You weren’t sure why; maybe the bourbon was that good. Your body started to feel hot and you could feel a throbbing feeling between your legs. “I...I’m not sure...I...I feel kinda funny...” you say, your voice slightly slurred. Vox’s smirk widened, his eyes glowing with a devilish delight. “Oh, it’s just the effects of the bourbon, darlin’. Besides, you’ve been so stressed out, you haven’t had any time to just sit and relax.” He moved closer, his hand lightly tracing a line up your arm, causing you to shiver. “Just relax and enjoy the ride, Y/N. I promise it’ll be one hell of a time.” His voice drops to a sultry whisper, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “You trust me, don’t you?” You feel your face grow even warmer as he started to pull you closer to him, his face so close to yours. “I..I guess so... You are a lot nicer than Alastor..” Vox chuckled, the sound low and rich in his throat. “Well, that’s the highest praise i’ve ever heard.” His hand rested on the small of your back, his fingers tracing small circles against your shirt. “I told ya, didn’t I? I ain’t like him. Not one bit.” He tilted his screen down, his glowing eyes meeting your slightly dilated ones. “Just relax, my dear. Let ol’ Vox take care of ya. You won’t regret it.” With that, he leaned in, pressing his lips against your forehead softly, something you were confused on how that worked, but that thought flew away like all the others. “Just trust me, Y/N. I won’t let ya down.”

In what your mind could come up with, as you stared at him and as he spoke with you, the thought of letting him take the wheel was starting to sound really good and you figured that it was better to trust him than anyone else in Hell. At least for now. “Ok..” Vox’s screen lit up with a triumphant grin, his red eyes glowing with delight. “That’s my girl,” he purred, his hand tightening around your waist. He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. He whispered against your lips, “You're so cute, Y/N. Just keep relaxing. There’s no need to fight it.” His other hand started explore, trailing down your body to rest on your thigh. His fingers squeezed gently, a small spark of electricity coursing through your body, causing you to moan. He knew your body was growing more sensitive by the minute. He pulled back, his screen displaying a smug smirk. “That’s it, baby. Enjoy the good feelings. Don’t be afraid, darlin’. I’ll take good care of you.”

His hand continued its exploration, trailing up your thigh to rest on your hip. He dug his fingers into your flesh, pulling you even closer against him. His screen returned to your face, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’re so responsive, sweetheart. It’s...intoxicating.” He leans in to your ear, his screen barely touching it. “I’m here. There’s no need to be scared.” His touch felt so good, all you wanted in that moment was for him to touch you more. “Ok,” you said. Vox chuckled, his eyes glowing with anticipation. “That’s what I like to hear, Y/N.” His hand slid up from your hip, tracing a path up your side and under your shirt. His fingers curled around your breast, squeezing gently, causing a soft gasp to escape your lips. “You’re so sensitive, darlin’. It’s so sweet.” His other hand slid down, resting on your thigh once more. He pulls your leg around him, positioning himself between your legs. He then starts to slowly strip you of your clothes. You were getting really hot, so it was a relief to get all those clothes off. Soon, you were completely nude before him, on full display. Vox’s eyes roamed your naked form, a low buzz rumbing from his chest. “Damn, Y/N. You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” His hands traced over your body, exploring every inch of your skin. He savored every moan and gasp, his touch sparking bits of static wherever he touched. He leaned in, his lips against your neck. “I'll make you feel all kinds of good, baby...”

His hand slid down, tracing a path down your body to rest between your thighs. His fingers teased your folds, a spark of static making you gasp. “That’s it, Y/N, just enjoy it,” he murmured, his voice a soft whisper in your ear. He then moved his face to you and kissed you deeply. You kissed back just as deep, moaning in his mouth as you felt his fingers slowly slip into your pussy. Vox groaned into the kiss, his fingers going deeper into you. He savored your moans, the taste of you on his screen intoxicating. He pulled back, a devilish smirk on his face. “You’re so wet, baby. All for me.” His fingers curled inside you, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp. His other hand was busy teasing your nipple, pinching and twisting it until you were writhing in his arms. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you...”

With that, he picked up the pace, his fingers pumping in and out of you with a fervor that left you breathless. You moaned more, the pleasure growing in intensity, “Ahh..mm..ohh..” Vox grinned and moved his fingers faster, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. The combination of him working on your pussy and playing with your breast had you crying out, your body trembling in his arms. “You’re so close, I can feel it. Go ahead and cum for me, baby girl.” It’s not too long until you cum, covering his hand in your juices as your body tensed up.

Vox growled, his eyes glowing with satisfaction as he felt you release all over his hand. His fingers slowed, gently stroking you through your orgasm. He slowly removed his hand and marveled at the wetness on it, licking it up until his hand was clean. “You taste so good, darlin’. So good..” His hand moved up, gently brushing a stray hair from your face. “You alright, Y/N?” You were there, still somewhat dazed from your orgasm. But there was one thought going through your head. “I...I...more...I need more...please...” Vox chuckled, “Needy little girl, aren’t you? Don’t worry, baby. I’m far from done with ya.” With that, he gently laid you down on the couch, his screen and his body hovering over you. “You ready for more, Y/N?” “Yes...please...I need it...” Vox’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Good girl, ” he purred. You see him take his jacket and pants off, revealing his hard and erect cock. You just sat there, amazed by its size. Could an overlord have a cock that big? Vox smiled, saying, “You like what you see?” He gave his cock a few strokes, pre-cum leaking from the tip. “It’s all for you, baby girl.”

With that, he lined himself up with your entrance, his hands holding your thighs gently. He slowly pushed himself inside you, groaning at the tightness that enveloped him. “Fuuck...that’s it, baby... take it in deep..” Once he was fully inside you, he started to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate. You gasp and moan in pleasure as he thrusts into you, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting the pleasure consume you. Vox felt a wave of pleasure hit him as he felt your arms go around him. “That’s it, baby. Let it all out.” His thrusts picked up in pace, each one hitting that sweet spot inside you. His hand moved down, his fingers slowly rubbing your clit. “You’re so tight, darlin’. So fucking good..” With that, he picked up the pace, his cock pumping in and out of you. “Ahh..ohh..V..Vox...i..it feels so good...” you moaned, causing Vox to grin. “That’s what I like to hear, baby.” He continued his assault on your pussy, pounding into you so much that you were seeing stars. You weren’t sure how many times you came, but you didn’t care. You just wanted Vox to keep fucking you.

“Gahh, fuck yeah...gotta get even deeper...” He then stopped his thrusts and pulled out of you, flipped you onto your belly, and grabbed your hips. “Hold on tight, Y/N. It’s gonna be a wild ride.” He lined himself up with your entrance once more, pushing inside you with a single thrust. He quickly sped up his thrusts, making you a moaning mess. “Ahh..oohh..yes...yes..I...I love it... I love your cock...!” Vox grinned a prideful smile, proud of the fact he was causing you to lose yourself just from his dick. “You’re such a dirty girl, baby. I fucking love it.” It’s not too long til he could feel his climax coming, and he felt your walls flutter, meaning yours was coming too. “Cum for me again, Y/N. Let it out.” “Ahh..mm..V..Vox..! Please cum in me..! Please..! Fill me up with your cum! I can’t take it anymore..!” Vox growled, your pleas of ecstasy driving him further over the edge. “You ready, baby girl? Ready for me to fill you up? I’ll do it, but only on one condition. You belong to me from now on. You like that?” “I..I’ll do it! I’ll only belong to you, Vox! Please, fuck me!” Vox smiled, thrusting even more. “Alright, darlin’. Here it comes...!” With one final, powerful thrust, Vox released inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his cum. “That’s it, baby..Take it...take it all..” You cum at the same time he does, feeling his cum filling up your womb. You cry out in pure pleasure, your body riddled with pleasure. It was the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Vox kept thrusting, but he started to slow down, letting you both ride your orgasms for as long as possible.

Once everything was done, he pulled out of you and marveled at the cum-covered mess your pussy had become. He smiled, and pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “You did amazing, baby.” He brushed a strand of hair away and he looked at you, a bit concerned since you were so quiet, “You okay, Y/N? Do you need anything?” You turned to him and he was amazed at how beautiful you looked. Your eyes looked so full of joy and bliss, and your smile was so warm and genuine. You could almost cry if you saw it for yourself. He felt his heart flutter when he saw that. Yeah, he made the right choice.

You hug him and rest your head on his chest. “I love you so much...”

Time stood still for a moment for Vox when he heard those words. He hoped that he would hear those words come out of your lips towards him, and seeing and hearing it now, it filled his heart with joy. He slowly wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. He let out a quiet chuckle, his screen pressing against the top of your head. “Well you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? I feel exactly the same, baby girl.” He gently waves his hand and summons a wisp of smoke around your neck and along his hand, it soon turning into a collar with a chain leash, him gently gripping onto the chain. You now belonged to him, permanently. And he wasn’t gonna let just anyone touch you like he just did.

He held you close, his hand gently stroking your back in a soothing rhythm. “Just rest now, Y/N. Vox has got you.” You let yourself drift off to sleep in his arms, forgetting about the world and any worries you had. Vox cleaned you up and carried you to his bed, laying you on it then entering it himself. He pulls you close, letting the sound of your breathing and the beating of your heart lull him to sleep.

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#hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox x y/n #vox x reader #vivziepop #fanfiction

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billwidoll · 10 months ago

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Beautiful boy || Rafe Cameron x Toxic)

Rafe has always been a man of having dark and narcissistic thoughts. He knew he had a problem, but he always tried to fight it, he knew he was sick, but he tried to fight it. But he couldn't, But that changed when he met the great and greatest love of his life, which was you. Rafe knew that you were the one who brought him calm, peace and hope. So he never wanted you to leave him He loved you, and he wanted to protect the people he loved, even when he did horrible things.

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon on the Outer Banks and you were on the boat with Rafe, lying in bed because the mansion's air conditioners had broken and the boat was the only one with air conditioning. Working at that time, so you and Rafe went there

"It's so much better here, Rafe" you say, hugging Rafe in bed

"Yes dear, I think I'm a little sleepy" Rafe says a little sleepily. He always slept when he was hugging you

"why don't you get some sleep?" You tell your boyfriend, you knew Rafe worked a lot, so it was obvious he was tired

"yes, you're right, but don't let me sleep too much, okay?" Rafe says, kissing your cheek and slowly closing his eyes. You nod your head

Rafe ends up sleeping and you end up looking at your cell phone and hearing a noise coming from outside the boat room.

You wanted to wake Rafe up to tell him about the noise you had just heard, but he was sleeping like an angel and you didn't want to ruin his peace. So you decided Get out of bed and see what was going on (even though I'm very scared)

"Who is there?" you say looking around the boat already out of bed

You look and see John B, taking Rafe's swimming gear

"What the fuck are you doing here, John B?!" You say shouting in anger, but relieved that it wasn't anyone else

“It’s none of your business Y/n!” Jonh B speaks in the same tone and it makes you angrier

"You're on my boyfriend's boat, stealing his things, that is, my business" You say, approaching John B and increasing the tension between you.

"ok! Your shitty boyfriend is trash! And he hit my friend Pope" jonh B speaks angrily

"that's not possible! Rafe has a strong temper, but he would never do something like that" You say, not wanting to believe it

"whatever! Now let me go!" Jonh B Speaks, taking the equipment and putting it on his back

"What are you going to do with this equipment?" You speak before John B leaves

"I really need them, I promise I'll bring them back" John B says and leaves you there on the boat

You didn't hate pogues like Rafe, and having that conversation with John B just showed how kind and harmless they were

But Rafe always kept you as far away from them as possible.

You return to the boat room and see Rafe moving slowly on the bed and muttering something

"who was here?" Rafe speaks in a voice that is seriously weak from sleep.

"hun It was John B" you say simply, sitting on the bed and taking out your cell phone to scroll through

"WHAT?!" Rafe says, jumping out of bed and opening his eyes frantically.

"Hey, my love, stay calm, okay?" You say taking Rafe's arms trying to calm him down

"what was he doing here?! Did he touch you?! Did he look at your body!?" Rafe wouldn't stop talking madly

"No, no Rafe..." You were about to speak but Rafe interrupted you, taking a gun from under the bed and scaring you.

"Rafe! What are you going to do?!" you speak with a shaky voice

"These Pogues just annoy me, but...touching you...it's too much." Rafe speaks hoarsely and putting bullets in the gun

"Rafe! He didn't do anything, please drop that gun!" You speak with tears in your eyes

But he didn't listen to you, he just got off the boat nervously , You didn't know what to do, you only knew how to cry and pray that nothing bad would happen. But it was already too late

Two hours later:

It was already night and you were sitting on the bed hugging your body and crying. Rafe was taking a while and that only made you worry more, but then he arrived, opening the door to the boat room.

"Oh my God! Rafe, where were you?!" You say getting up and touching him

Rafe was cold and dirty...with blood

"what blood is this Rafe?" You speak in a low voice and are afraid of your boyfriend

"It's over, my love, this guy will never bother you again" Rafe says, running his hands over your face

"Rafe..." He interrupts you once again, placing his lips on your mouth and then hugging you tightly

"Close your eyes Have no fear The monster's gone" Rafe speaks softly into your ear and your heart speeds up. You were definitely his

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jupiter-va · 1 year ago

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So I got a message a few days ago, and I'm not one to air out messages or anything, I feel like it starts unnecessary drama so I'm just gonna say that I thought I'd made it pretty clear that I'm not shaming anyone for liking TLOU. You can like the game all you want, hell, it's essentially become a special interest of mine. What I am saying is that continuing to buy things in relation to the game when Neil is very openly a zionist that has donated money to Israel is deplorable.

You can enjoy certain media and be critical of its themes/understand why you shouldn't further financially support the creators of said media. No one is telling you to trash your game that you already spent like $60, let's please use our brains for a minute.

Mind you, I'm referring to those that already purchased the games before the news of what is happening in Palestine became more widely known. Those that went and bought the remaster anyways with the knowledge of what that man supports/helps fund can go fuck themselves.

#jupiter va #abby tlou2 #tlou2 #tlou2 remaster #free gaza #free palestine

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cuteskunkz · 1 year ago

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‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.Good Morning Princess₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

(Dom!Mike Schmidt x Sub!Reader)

~Summary: Mike comes home after a long day and needs to blow off some steam.

~Tags: consensual somno, pet names, degradation, praise, cnc, porn with plot lmfao

~Note: This fic is verrryyyy kinky and also my first that I've written in probably 9 years lol. Forgive me if the writing is bad :((( I was super Inspired after reading "So I'm stuck on this shithole island, and I can't even have a smoke?" By stop-talking. U should definitely check them out! Please let me know if you're interested in more <3

⊱✿⊰

"The things I would do for one day where I can enjoy myself without worrying about the weight of the world on my shoulders" he thought to himself. Mike's car pulled into the driveway and quickly turned off. He was feeling quite frustrated from cleaning the entire pizzeria after it was trashed sometime after he left at the end of his shift yesterday. It wasn't his fault that Steve refused to hire someone to take the morning shift to prevent things like these from happening yet all the repercussions fell into his hands. It was one thing after another for him. His family issues, the bills overdue and piling up, nothing but shitty jobs he had no choice but to work, and cleaning up after some complete assholes didn't make him feel any better. All he wanted was a sense of normality in his life and thankfully you provided that for him.

It was 9am on a bright Wednesday morning. The wind whipped through his hair making him promptly pull his sweater snuggly over his body as he began walking into his house. He unlocked the front door and looked around with a smile, expecting you to be the first thing he sees. It was oddly quiet- usually you'd be up watching tv or reading and listening to music after walking Abby to school yet you were nowhere to be found. He stalked room to room looking for you. A wave of sadness fell over him when he couldn't immediately find you. Were you going to disappear from his life like Garret?

He finally finds you cuddled up in his bed wearing nothing but one of his T-shirts that fit you more like a dress than anything. He took a moment to soak the image in. You were lying on your stomach with one leg propped up. Your hair being draped so beautifully over your shoulders made his stomach flutter. The sunlight spilling into his room through the blinds striped across your skin, giving you a warm look. Any negative feelings he felt before coming home completely washed away, instead being filled with gratitude and love. Where would he be without you?

He took a deep breath in through his nose and picked up the scent of the Versace perfume he got you for your birthday. He knew it was way out of his budget but you deserved only the best. God the things the smell of your perfume did to him. It activated something in him that made his pants fit more snug around him. He palmed his erection while watching you sleep. You look so peaceful like this but Mike couldn't help himself. He had so much pent up inside and he knew that only you could help him blow off some steam. He slowly unbuckled his belt and pulled himself out. There was a coating of precum on his tip that he used as lubricant while stroking himself at a painfully slow pace. He would do anything to fuck you right at this moment but decided to take it slow as to not spoil it.

He felt the pit in his stomach build and began fucking himself into his fist, pretending it was you gripped around his achingly hard cock. Small whimpers left his lips but Mike tried his hardest to stay quiet. He couldn't wake you just yet. "Fuck- this is torture" he thought to himself. He tucked his erection back into his boxers and walked over to the bedside table. He made note of your arm placement. Both of your arms were resting above your head on the pillow, inches away from the headboard. "Perfect" he whispered as he grabbed two sets of handcuffs and held them in front of your sleeping body.

He carefully snapped the cuffs around each of your wrists and then to the headboard. Mike felt like his boxers were going to bust as the seams. He grabbed your waist and propped you up on your knees just the way you like it. This elicited a small groan from you but you drifted back to sleep in no time. The arch of your back made his head spin. He licked his index and ring fingers and slid them into your glistening pussy. He curled his fingers slightly and began pumping into you. Your eyes fluttered with confusion and pleasure. You attempted to prop yourself up to get a visual but you immediately froze. "Good morning princess" Mike cooed.

"M-mike..." you stuttered. It was hard to contain the pleasure you felt in your lower abdomen. "Sorry baby, I couldn't wait until you got up. You looked so good just lying there" he replied in a sweet voice. His raspy voice and fingers hitting just the right spot had you ready to explode. Mike knew how much you loved to be woken up like this so it was a treat to both of you. "How do you want it tonight? I'll give you whatever you want baby, you know that". You knew how rough work has been for him even though he doesn't really talk much about it. You could practically see it in his dark circles.

You tried your hardest to reply, biting your lip and barely squeaking out your response: "h'ever you need sir". You were well aware of what calling him sir meant for your body and you were definitely in for it now. Mike was usually very soft and caring during sex but every now and then, he showed his dominance over you. This was one of those times. "Thank you princess. You always know what I need when I need it" he cooed once more while smacking his calloused hand on your ass. His touch made you yelp but you swallowed down the delicious pain.

He pulled his already unbuckled pants down and off his body with his free hand. "You let me know when you're close, yeah? Can't have you making a mess juuuust yet" he says in a playful voice. "S-sir I can't take much longer...p-please" you begged, trying to free your hands from the cuffs by shaking them around- feeling overwhelmed from his touch. "Aww poor puppy. I just started and you're already about to cum. So sensitive, hm?" He quickened his pace and used his other hand to play with your clit. "Fuck you're so wet for me. You take it so well princess."

You would do anything to please Mike, the guy just needed a break and you were more than happy to give him what he needs to feel better. "Mike... I'm almost there. Please..." you said in a breathy tone before you were interrupted. He completely stopped playing with your throbbing parts, grabbed a fistful of your hair, and began pulling. "What's my name slut?". You felt yourself getting wetter from the power he's displaying. "S-sir please I'm begging" you plead. "I can't take it anymore I'm sensitive". This causes a smirk to creep onto Mike's face.

"I'm sorry baby but that's not a choice tonight. Especially after not knowing your place" he states. He places a smack on your bundle of nerves that causes you to tremble. You love it when Mike felt comfortable enough to show this side of his sexual fantasies. It was invigorating to switch things up like this. You definitely love the caring Mike Schmidt that you fell in love with but you found him so attractive when he towered over you like this. "I understand sir."

He unclasps the cuffs from around you and pats your head gently. "That's better hm? What do you say?" He asks in a softer tone. Even when he's domming you he still always made sure to be considerate of your feelings. "Thank you mister" you say as you flip around to sit close to him and rub your wrists. "You wanna keep going baby? If it's really too much-" you stop him with a passionate kiss. You pull him to sit on the bed next to you by the collar of his shirt. "Of course sir, you can't stop what you started right?" you tease while shooting him a wink.

⊱✿⊰

*Read part 2 here!*

AHHHHH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT!!!!!!! I've been so anxious about uploading this so please let me know if you want me to pick up from the cliffhanger :P

#mike schimdt fanfic #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x you #fnaf movie #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson smut #Spotify

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especiallyhaytham · 13 days ago

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I know it's been 6 years but does anyone else think the Assassin's Creed 3 Remaster looks like trash or. I never see anyone talking about it, like what the fuck is this actually.

Left: 2012 original release. Right: 2019 remaster.

They look raw chicken, like someone actually forgot to render the entire game. What. The. Fuck. Is. This. Actually.

Every surface is yellow and overexposed to shit. Polycounts are reduced. All the light diffusion and shaders are gone, which makes it impossible to see any of the subtle expressive details. There's just no way anyone could possibly think this looks good.

And it pisses me off even more because yes, I know they only did all this to compress the game for Switch, but if you're gonna do that at least keep the original version availible somehow. Or, make the Switch release ONLY a Switch release and don't port it everywhere.

Now everyone is forced to buy this ugly slop and no one will remember how great the original looked in comparison. The 2012 graphics still hold up very well in 2025 if you can manage to find it (hint: you can buy an old Uplay game key on G2A.com for next to nothing, and they work on UC).

It's just so sad. They turned my boys into plastic chunks and deleted their polygons 😮‍💨 whyyyy

#assassin's creed 3 #//vent #i was mad about it when it came out and now sometimes i'll see gifs and it makes me mad all over again #not mad at the people who make the gifs. mad at ubisoft for thinking this was fine to release in the first place

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agirlsawalittlerose · 2 months ago

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This is Me Trying

ModernAU!Aegon x OFC

Fresh out of rehab, Aegon Targaryen is looking for a way back into music when he meets Victoria, a talented but stubborn singer-songwriter who wants nothing to do with his family’s record label. Reluctantly thrown together, they form an unexpected creative partnership, finding common ground in music and shared struggles.

TW: Alcoholism, Addiction, Sexism, Anxiety, Panic attacks

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 7: Under Pressure

The guys at the pub hadn’t stopped teasing her.

The moment Vic walked through the door, she saw Rhys bow dramatically, and Sara quickly joined in the pantomime, starting a round of applause that soon included even the few clueless patrons sitting around in the early afternoon.

“Our illustrious songwriter has descended from Olympus to grace us with her presence!” Rhys announced sarcastically, while Vic rolled her eyes, a mix of smugness and irritation crossing her face at having her absence so publicly acknowledged.

Luckily, Tony quickly restored order, and Vic slipped into the back to change before starting her shift.

Later, she stood outside with Sara, smoking in front of the pub. The sun was already setting—too early for Vic’s liking. She hated winter, especially the oppressive darkness that crept in by four in the afternoon.

“…Of course I wouldn’t pick a Pitbull song, come on,” Vic said, pulling her coat tighter as Sara stared at her in mock disgust.

“So, you’d rather hear Pitbull ruin every song ever than have Freddie Mercury sing ‘I Know You Want Me?’” Sara asked, incredulous.

“Obviously! Queen’s songs are good enough to redeem Pitbull, but Freddie doesn’t deserve that trash,” Vic shot back, deadly serious.

“And what if you had to pick that and eat a spoonful of mayo?” Sara pressed, after a moment of thought.

“Like, straight out of the jar?” Vic asked, horrified. Sara nodded, barely holding back her laughter.

“No way, gross! Mayo’s one of those weird things—divine in small doses but…” Vic trailed off, noticing Sara choking on her cigarette smoke, eyes wide as she stared at something over Vic’s shoulder.

“Well, hello there, very blond mate. You alright?” Sara said suddenly.

Vic spun around, and of course, it was Aegon standing behind her, sunglasses on despite the near darkness.

“Good evening, ladies,” he greeted them with a small bow, as theatrical as ever.

“And what brings you here, Cinderella? It’s almost dark,” Vic shot back, raising an eyebrow as she gave him a once-over.

Aegon chuckled softly. “I know! Also I’m sure my odds of dying are about the same whether it’s day or night. But hey, if you want, you can go plead my case to the big boss.”

Sara glanced at Vic, puzzled, but Vic waved her off, pulling her coat tighter against the cold.

“This is Sara, by the way,” Vic said, gesturing to her friend.

“And very single,” Sara added, leaning around Vic to offer Aegon her hand. He shook it with a smug smile as Vic jabbed her elbow lightly into Sara’s side.

Vic tossed her hair and straightened up, grabbing Sara by the arm. “Thanks for stopping by. Break’s over though, we’re heading back in.”

But Aegon followed them. “Yeah, well, I need to talk to you,” he said.

“Of course you do,” Vic muttered as she stepped into the pub, followed by Aegon and Sara, who kept sneaking amused glances at him before turning to Vic and mouthing a silent “hot.”

Vic rolled her eyes and disappeared into the back room to hang up her coat. When she returned, Aegon was perched on one of the barstools in front of the taps.

Work was impending though and she had to turn her attention to the two middle-aged men in front of her, her indignation masked beneath a practiced, cordial smile in under two seconds.

While preparing two gin and tonics for the guys at the bar, Vic kept sneaking glances at Aegon. He was on his phone, swiping right repeatedly in a way she instantly recognized. Then, he fiddled with the plastic pumpkins Tony had placed near the register. Finally, he shot her another look, and she immediately turned away, feeling her cheeks heat up.

When she returned to the bar to cash out the two customers, she glanced at Aegon again. He was staring right at her, smiling.

“So, what do you want?” Vic asked, forcing herself to sound as annoyed as possible, trying to sell her too cool for you attitude.

“I’ve never tried a Cosmopolitan, but Sex and the City really made them look good…” he started, picking up a drink menu from the counter and flipping through it absentmindedly.

“Aegon…” Vic interrupted, exasperated, leaning on the bar with both hands.

He paused, set the menu down with a clink of his rings against the counter, and rested his chin on one hand. He wore the mischievous expression of a kid caught sneaking cookies.

“I might’ve done something really stupid,” he admitted, smiling sheepishly and scratching the back of his head like he was trying to comfort himself.

Vic arched an eyebrow. “Shocker.”

“I promised my dad I’d finish writing enough songs by the label’s Christmas party… and perform a single there,” he said, grimacing like he was bracing for a lecture.

She crossed her arms. “And?”

“And we have just started, we have only a couple of months and I haven’t written shit.”

There it was.

Vic exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to rub her temples. “So, what—you want to plagiarize Sum 41’s entire discography?”

Aegon frowned. “I can write, you know.”

She tilted her head. “Then why haven’t you?”

He hesitated. Not in the usual way—not like he was about to say something slick or self-deprecating.

"Listen, Aegon, I fully intend to help you—they're paying me for this," Vic began, rolling her eyes as she grabbed a cloth and started wiping up the beer that had spilled from the tap. "But you need to trust me a little more and... COMING!"

She cut herself off as Tony shouted her name from the back.

"We'll talk later," she said to Aegon, hurrying toward the door behind the counter.

******

Trusting Vic Dawson. Right. That way, she’d get all the credit for the album. In front of his father, in front of Aemond, who would never let him live it down, and then—Aegon didn’t even want to think about what he’d have to tell his own reflection every time he thought about his first album.

Written entirely by Vic Dawson.

A shiver ran down his neck as another thought hit him like a punch.

His father had said it to him, cold and merciless as a needle in his vein: his album—the one he had written by himself months ago, before rehab—wasn’t good.

His music wasn’t good.

He wasn’t good.

Otherwise, why would they have sent him to that damn institution, hoping to reprogram his brain?

Aegon suddenly found himself trapped between a rock and a hard place, both already spelling out his death sentence.

Caught between the need to show up at the Christmas party with a finished album and shove it in his father’s face—

And his distrust of that royalty-sucking leech, Vic Dawson.

“You playing here tonight?” asked a voice beside him.

It was an old man, obviously. A huge, red mountain of a man, just like his sweater—he was easily three times Aegon’s size. His face was worn, his voice ruined by who knows how many thousands of cigarettes. Aegon didn’t need long to confirm his suspicion, spotting a pack next to a half-full glass of whiskey.

“No, I’m just here for the drinks and the charming company,” Aegon joked, earning a rough, raspy laugh from the man.

“What’s your name?” the man asked once he’d settled back.

“Aegon.”

“What the fuck kind of name is Aegon?” the old man asked, sounding almost genuinely annoyed at having never heard it before.

The swear word made Aegon laugh. And maybe, just maybe, it helped him loosen up a little.

“Believe me, I have no clue. My family decided to ruin me from birth,” Aegon replied, avoiding the old man’s gaze—and any potential questions about his family.

He figured the old man had caught on.

The old man gave him a knowing look. “Ah. One of those.”

Aegon turned fully toward him, leaning his elbow against the bar. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Young. Think you’re washed up already. Can’t write, can’t play, can’t do whatever it is you used to do—so you come here, sit on that stool, and hope brooding will fix it.”

Aegon felt sudden anger at the assumption. “How do you even know I want to play?”

The old man laughed. “I’m the old one here, but you’re the idiot. I heard you talking with Victoria earlier about one of her musical contraptions.”

Aegon felt like a complete idiot. So busy trying to be defensive, he hadn’t considered that, of course, talking with the pub’s darling would draw attention.

Damn Victoria Dawson.

“Bold of you to assume I ever could do it,” he muttered.

The old man chuckled. “Oh, I don’t assume. I know.” He gestured at Aegon’s hands, drumming absentmindedly against the bar. “They don’t stop moving. Bet you do it in your sleep.”

Aegon looked down at his fingers, now still.

“…Doesn’t mean I’ve got anything worth playing.”

The man sighed, tapping a cigarette against the table but not lighting it. “You ever hear of Sonny Rollins?”

Aegon shook his head.

“Saxophonist. Big in the fifties. One day, he decides he ain’t good enough—just up and quits. Spends two years playing alone on a bridge, practicing, thinking. People thought he was mad.” He smirked. “Then he came back, better than ever.”

Aegon frowned. “So what—you think I should go sit on a bridge somewhere?”

The man chuckled. “Nah. Just saying—maybe you’re not done. Maybe you just think you are.”

Aegon said nothing.

The jukebox changed songs. Sara wiped down the counter. Somewhere in the back, Vic’s laugh rang out, quick and sharp before cutting off.

The man patted Aegon’s shoulder, then stood, collecting his things. “You’ll figure it out, lad.”

Aegon wanted to ask how—how the hell was he supposed to figure it out when every time he tried, he felt like he was standing at the edge of something vast and empty, waiting to fall?

But he didn’t.

Instead, he just watched as the man walked toward the door, pushing it open with a creak before stepping out into the cold.

Aegon exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face.

Then, almost unconsciously, he tapped his fingers against the bar again.

Okay, you know what? She may have won last time in the studio, but tomorrow, Aegon would bring all his ideas—even the dumbest ones—and Vic would be so impressed that she'd beg him to let her write for him. She'd beg to strip off her underwear and apologize for the terrible offense of ever doubting him.

"Anyway, as I was saying..." the bitch began, stepping closer to his stool—those damn perfect lips of hers making him angrier than all the world’s injustices combined, because the only thing they were good for was spouting judgments and sarcastic remarks.

"I have to go. See you in the studio tomorrow morning," he cut her off, already slipping on his coat—without even giving himself the pleasure of savoring the confused, surprised look on her face.

The next day Aegon walked into the studio feeling something close to confidence. Not the reckless, coke-fueled kind that had once convinced him he was untouchable—but a quieter, more fragile thing. A flickering candle instead of a neon sign.

He had ideas.

After last night’s conversation with the old man, he’d gone home and worked. Properly worked.

Jotted down progressions, hummed out melodies until his voice cracked, pieced together a shape of something that could maybe—if he was lucky—become a song.

So when Aemond had pointed out—again—that he was late, he hadn’t even bothered to answer.

Aemond and Vic were sitting on the sofa near the bass amp, caught in an animated discussion about something that would’ve been easy to make fun of under different circumstances, but Aegon wasn’t in the mood.

He pulled out his notebook and reached for his favorite Telecaster in the room, only to feel Vic’s gaze settle on him.

“I saw you talking to Arthur yesterday,” she said when it became clear he wasn’t going to waste time making small talk, fetching breakfast, or filling awkward silences with one of his jokes.

“Yeah, nice man,” he said shortly, almost annoyed that his babysitter was so damn attentive she apparently kept tabs on him even off duty. God forbid he had a casual conversation with an old man at a pub without it being filed away in her mental dossier for future use against him.

Somehow, the strategy worked—Vic let it go and resumed chatting with Aemond.

Aegon didn’t sit, didn’t get comfortable.

He just took a breath—hoping to shake off the gnawing feeling in his gut telling him she’d hate everything he came up with, just like others had dismissed him before.

Then, he started playing.

Nothing complicated, just chords at first, feeling out the skeleton of the thing. Then he added variations—a passing note here, a suspended chord there—until he found a voicing that felt right.

Victoria and Aemond finally shut up, but she said nothing.

He kept going.

He played through a verse, then a chorus. Tweaked the rhythm. Moved one chord down a step, then up again. Still nothing from her.

He glanced over his shoulder. Was she even listening?

She was.

She was watching him, her coffee cup halfway to her lips, expression unreadable.

Fine. Maybe she just needed to hear the full thing.

He played through the entire sequence again.

When he finished, the room went quiet.

Aegon turned to her, waiting. Expecting—what, exactly? A nod? A that’s good? Something?

But she just tilted her head slightly and said, “Keep going.”

That was it.

Not bad. Not good. Just keep going.

Was this what fucking maieutics was about? If so, Aegon hated it.

That might be the first time Helaena was wrong in her entire existence.

Aegon clenched his jaw and played the section again, this time adding more movement. Still, she only watched, eyes flicking between his hands and his face, like she was studying him rather than the music.

He finished again.

Nothing.

His frustration sharpened.

“Any notes, coach?” he asked, fully turning toward her.

She just blinked. “Not yet.”

That answer pissed him off more than if she’d just told him it was shit.

And as if that weren’t enough, Aemond had started furiously scribbling in his goddamn notebook, pausing only to watch Vic’s reactions and smirk to himself like he knew something Aegon didn’t.

Aegon exhaled sharply, ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus, Vic. At least pretend you’ve got an opinion.”

“I do,” she said, finally setting down her cup. “I think you’re onto something.”

It should have made him feel better. It didn’t.

His stomach turned at her blatant indifference. He could see her fingers twitching, like she was dying to snatch the guitar out of his hands and do it better herself.

Not that Aegon was surprised. What was she, if not yet another person treating him like some washed-up fuckup who had to be handled carefully, already planning how to clean up whatever damage he’d inevitably cause?

“Great. Thanks. Really helpful.”

She gave him a look, like she could see straight through him. “You want a real note?”

He gestured for her to go ahead, leaning back against the wall.

Victoria unfolded her legs and stood, walking toward him.

“It’s the resolution,” she said, resting a hand on the edge of the guitar’s neck. “You’re playing the V chord like it’s a resolution, but it’s not. It’s an extension.”

He frowned.

“It wants to move somewhere,” she continued. Her hand brushed Aegon’s for a second, lightly resting on the neck of the guitar, then guided it two frets down before pulling away in an instant—like she’d just touched a burning pot. “It needs to go home. Right now, it’s just hanging there.”

Aegon played the new chord, listening. She was right. Of course she had the answer, that smug I-know-everything attitude.

He hated her. Aegon fucking hated her. Hated the way she talked about music like it was the easiest thing in the world, hated the way Aemond nodded along to every goddamn word she said. Hated that she was clearly just here to take half his royalties and all his credit. Hated that when she stood up, he caught a glimpse of the tattoo on her hip and his dick betrayed him by stirring at the worst possible moment.

Hated that she didn’t even have the balls to call him an idiot to his face. At least then he could react, get her thrown out like he had with all the other songwriters they’d forced on him.

So instead of acknowledging her point, he smirked.

"Wow, Vic, well done! I was just thinking—instead of giving you 50% of my royalties, why not, I don’t know, 80%? Maybe then you could afford to grow a pair and actually work on something of your own in front of someone younger than an eighty-year-old. What do you think?"

Vic didn’t say a word, but Aegon could count, one by one, every muscle in her face and shoulders tensing up instantly.

Her dark eyes were so full of rage he half-expected them to shoot laser beams at him.

Finally, a reaction.

In a sharp motion, she grabbed her jacket and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Aegon’s satisfied smirk died the second he heard her—despite the soundproof door—mutter, “Pathetic asshole.”

Aemond tried to stop him, but in the blink of an eye, Aegon had shrugged off his Telecaster and bolted after her.

“Say that to my face!” he shouted down the hall, completely unfazed by the receptionist smacking a hand over her face.

Yeah, Lizzie, Lisa or whatever the hell her name was—welcome to another episode of my show.

Vic didn’t even turn around. The elevator doors slid open in front of her.

“I have nothing to say to you,” she said, with the same infuriating calm that had been getting under Aegon’s skin all damn day.

He stepped in right behind her. When she pressed the button for the ground floor, he immediately pressed the one to hold the doors open.

She followed the motion of his hand with her eyes, her expression twisting into something almost scandalized.

"Are you seriously stopping me from leaving?" she asked, her voice calm, though her face said otherwise as she reached for the panel again.

Aegon was faster, blocking her.

"I’ll let you go when you apologise."

He could feel her breath, hot with anger, against his skin.

Not exactly how he’d pictured having her this close to his face.

Vic scoffed, but Aegon didn’t find a fucking thing funny.

"Sorry for calling you pathetic," she said, bold as ever. "I should've gone with nepo baby with a god complex and the audacity of a man twice as useless. Happy now?"

She shoved an arm between him and the wall, jabbing at the ground floor button again.

"Jesus, how old are you, twelve?" Aegon shot back, almost grateful that, for once, he wasn’t the one acting like the biggest child in the room.

That moment of distraction cost him.

The doors slid shut, and the elevator started moving.

Aegon, in retaliation, hit the opening doors button again.

And, of course, the elevator—caught between their opposing demands—screeched to a halt.

And with it, so did Aegon and Vic’s frantic bickering.

“Fucking perfect,” Aegon commented dryly, his eyes fixed on the panel as if he could will this damn tin box to work with just his gaze.

“So what now? You gonna climb out the hatch like a badass, or are we just gonna stand here?” he continued sarcastically. When he received no response from that infuriating bitch, he turned toward her.

Vic was motionless, staring at the elevator doors. She could’ve passed for a marble statue if not for the way her nostrils flared with each uneven breath.

“Vic?” Aegon tried.

Nothing. Just another sharp inhale through her nose.

Aegon straightened, suddenly unsure.

“Hey,” he attempted once more, stepping toward her, but she wouldn’t even meet his gaze.

He studied her for a moment—her fingers twitching and her throat working as if she were repeatedly swallowing to check if it still functioned.

It clicked.

“You’re claustrophobic?” he asked carefully.

“Shut up.” Tight. Barely above a whisper.

Well, that wasn’t a no.

He lifted a hand, intending to place it on her shoulder, then thought better of it.

“It’s fine. We’ll be out in a few minutes.” He kept his voice level, watching for any shift in her expression.

It was strange—seeing Vic Dawson like this. Afraid. For a second, he saw the same look she’d had the first time he ever laid eyes on her, when their gazes met from across the stage.

And he’d wondered for days how someone so sure of herself, so infuriatingly cocky, could’ve looked so vulnerable in that moment. He’d even convinced himself he imagined it—chalked it up to how damn good she’d sounded that night.

But no. That side of Vic was real. And now, he was watching it unfold in real-time.

Her breath stuttered. Her nails pressed into her palms.

“Breathe,” he said, voice low and steady. Then he regretted it. “Breathe”, groundbreaking, Aegon, good job.

Still, she didn’t look at him.

“You’re not gonna die in here.”

“Yeah, no shit,” she muttered, flat but strained.

Aegon stepped directly in front of her, pressing both hands against the base of her neck.

That got her attention.

Vic’s eyes snapped to his, and a tremor—so unlike her usual controlled self—passed through her.

“If you force your shoulders to relax, it tricks your brain into thinking it can, too,” he explained, applying gentle pressure, running his hands from her neck to her shoulders and back again.

Somehow—miraculously—she listened.

“You’re not having a heart attack, or a stroke, or an aneurysm, or any of the million other worst-case scenarios you’ve already played out in your head,” he went on, pulling from the same reassurances he told himself whenever panic started creeping in.

“And there’s no reason you’d conveniently drop dead in the ten minutes it’ll take the techs to fix this piece of shit.”

Vic let out a long, shaky breath, nodding stiffly.

It worked.

When her breathing evened out, Aegon pulled back, sinking onto the elevator floor and motioning for her to do the same.

A long pause. Vic exhaled again, slower this time, leaning against the wall. Aegon watched her—then, because humor is all he fucking had, tilted his head.

“Would’ve bet money I’d be the one losing my shit first.”

That earned a tiny, humorless huff. Aegon latched onto it, pushing forward.

“So what is it? Small spaces in general, or just the ones with me in them?”

Vic, still tense but dry, shot back, “Just you.”

Aegon grinned, easy now. “Knew it.”

She rolled her eyes, but her breathing steadied. Just a little.

Aegon watched her a second longer before leaning back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know, for someone who acts like she has her shit together, you’re doing a great impression of a total mess right now.”

Vic scoffed, but there was no real bite to it.

Aegon smirked, but there was no real malice to it.

“You’re such an asshole, Aegon,” Vic muttered, letting her head fall back against the elevator wall.

Aegon chuckled. Old familiar words.

“Are you trying to do what you did with Aemond the other day? Mess with me until I quit?” she continued, voice edged with frustration. “Because, unfortunately for you, I’m not in a position to do that.”

“You were about to,” he replied—not accusing, just stating the obvious.

“Well, yeah. You’re not the only one who deserves the luxury of being impulsive,” Vic shot back.

She shifted slightly where she sat, the cold metal of the elevator floor probably seeping through her clothes by now. Still, she kept her spine straight, chin high, regaining her usual bravado. “And anyway, I don’t see what’s so wrong with wanting to get paid.”

“Oh, then you could’ve just signed with the label yourself instead of sticking your nose in my business,” Aegon snapped, frustration bleeding into his voice.

“And sell my music to that gremlin of a father you have?” Vic countered, voice rising, just as frustrated. But then, as if realizing she’d let something slip, she straightened her shoulders.

Poor thing. She had no idea who she was talking to.

“No offense,” she added, awkwardly.

“None taken,” he said smoothly, almost amused by Victoria Dawson’s sudden honesty.

“What I meant,” she pressed on, “is that it’s not worth the risk of watching my work get abandoned like—”

“Like they did with mine, you mean?” Aegon interrupted, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

But she didn’t look away. And there wasn’t a trace of pity in her eyes.

That surprised him.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said carefully, and Aegon could tell there was something she wasn’t saying—something he didn’t know.

Curiosity ate him alive.

“And what did you mean?”

She hesitated, then continued, “I’ve seen how they treat the artists they sign, Aegon. Trust me, if I had any other offer, from anyone else, that wasn’t exploitative or risky, I obviously would’ve signed for my own album.”

Aegon wasn’t satisfied with that answer, but before he could push, she went on.

“Some of us don’t have the privileges you had. We have to take different routes. Pay a shit-ton just to study. I need your royalties to pay for St. Louis. If I even pass…” Her voice lost some of its fire, that last part tinged with doubt.

Aegon blinked. Then scoffed, genuinely incredulous.

“Are you fucking serious, Vic? What the hell do you need a songwriting program for in that nest of lobotomized pseudo-intellectuals?”

“They take ten people a year,” she said simply. “It’d be a nice accomplishment, wouldn’t it?”

And just like that, Aegon got it.

Even Victoria Dawson needed someone to tell her she was good.

“Oh yeah, validation is such a wonderful thing, isn’t it?” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Imagine how great it must be when people respect you and your work so much that they just have to assign you watchdogs in every aspect of your life.”

Vic stared at him for a moment. And for once, no matter how hard Aegon searched for signs of the greedy, gold-digging opportunist he was certain she was, he found nothing.

“Look, I have no interest in babysitting you just for the hell of it,” she said. “I like writing music. And your song wasn’t bad at all, you know?”

“Then why didn’t you just say that?” Aegon shot back.

Vic let out an exasperated groan, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I was giving you space! The other day, you made me do everything, but I don’t think that’s exactly how co-writing is supposed to work.”

Co-writing.

Aegon turned the phrase over in his head, the satisfaction of being acknowledged as an equal, for the first time in who the fuck knew how long, warming him from the inside out. Sweet and rich—like he imagined a mother’s embrace might feel.

Not ready to deal with that particular revelation, he pushed on stubbornly. “That’s still not a great reason to only open your mouth when you’ve got a critique to give.”

“Well, I didn’t think you needed to hear you were good,” Vic muttered, looking away.

“Fucking hypocrite,” Aegon smirked.

She stared at him for a moment.

And then, suddenly, the elevator moved upwards and the doors opened.

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