#would she had given him whatever side she enjoyed more as a silent show of good faith and appreciation?

[bookishjules]

do you think annabeth gave percy the side of the oreo with more or less creme when they were in the zoo transport?

[lotties-ashwagandha]

POWER CURES

tashi donaldson x fem!reader, word count 4.2k. NSFW!

your career in sports journalism has made you one of the most successful women in your field — a career you built on your own after you broke up with tashi donaldson at stanford. yet rivalry still burns between you, and whenever given the opportunity you can't help but add fuel to the fire. requested by @elaci who also writes for challengers so go follow :)

“It’s a miracle he’s still playing,” you say. “Art showed so much passion today, I could feel it. Maybe next time he could focus on hitting the ball instead of smashing ants on the court with his racket – it just sends the wrong message I think, not very eco-friendly.” 

Tashi shakes her head, attempting to brush off your comment, but you can feel the silent fury you’ve stirred up in her. Her expression is partially hidden by her sunglasses as the two of you stand at the edge of the court, her only guard from your scrutiny. It’s been nine years since you’ve spoken to her, but the four years you dedicated to her before that taught you every one of her tells. She’s different now – she wears her hair short, her makeup darker, age and experience have made her seem solemn. But you can feel it, that under all of the change she is still the same. 

“At least he still plays,” she says sharply. “You’re the critic, the journalist, but you would get on the court and get yourself knocked the fuck out. Art works, he doesn’t lock himself in the basement to write pity-party bullshit for money.” 

“Neither do I,” you smile. “I don’t write anything for money, though I do enjoy the benefits.” 

“You’ve always been greedy,” Tashi accuses. “You enjoy taking what isn’t yours, and destroying what you can’t reach.” 

You shrug. You won’t attempt to deny it – greed is what got you into this profession, and greed is what has held you up to survive it. Greed is what got you a million dollar mansion and the audience that paid for it, and greed is what has you standing at the side of Tashi Donaldson as you watch her husband step off the tennis court after losing another match to add to his streak this year. 

“If you write anything about this match, I will end your career,” Tashi says casually, because power means nothing to her, and using it is easy. She takes off her sunglasses, puts them in her purse that costs more money than your car. When she meets your eyes, there’s stoic sureness in her gaze. 

“It’s sweet that you think I only came here for you.” 

She gives you a hard look, searching you for the truth if she couldn’t trust it to come from your words. Whatever conclusion she would come up with was none of your concern – it’s true that you hadn’t come here for her, not completely. You’re here for another set of competitors, the headliners of the women’s division. If there was one thing you could use to define your career, it wouldn’t be the Donaldsons, or the Duncans – it would be your influence on women’s tennis. Your journalism through the years has put women in the spotlight of the sport, and for as long as you could you would continue the mission of keeping them there. 

But when you had seen Tashi’s husband playing in the final match of the day, and when you had seen her watching him alone at the sidelines, you couldn’t help but take advantage of it. Your comments and motives were petty, but deserved. 

You see Art begin to approach the two of you with his gym bag. “That’s my cue, isn’t it?” you ask. You try to avoid Art at all cost even after all these years, it creates a situation more awkward for you than for him. “I don’t think he needs me to lecture him, not again.” 

You begin to depart from Tashi’s side, but then you pause and turn back to her. “I’ll be in New Rochelle for the Challengers tournament in a few weeks,” you tell her. “Maybe there’s someone there your husband could beat, for a change.” 

Tashi scoffs, and you take your chance to leave before you can be joined by Art or any of the reporters or journalists following in his wake. You’ve done your work for the day, your air-conditioned hotel room is calling to you and you’re all too prepared to run to it. 

When you stand at the exit to the tennis court, you spare a look back in the direction of the Donaldsons. Tashi is immersed in giving feedback to Art as he stands in childlike submission. Her hands are planted on his shoulders, she’s looking into his eyes, and when she spares a look at the court a sense of nostalgia washes over you as you remember how it felt to watch her play. How she used to win every game she signed to compete in, how effortless her victories were. 

In a way, you miss it. You miss her. The promise of her victories that would pull you through in college, that you could look forward to watching and writing about. The memory of it sparks a flare of anger within you – four years, erased, yet still so potent in your memory. 

You turn away from the court. You push through the crowd, in your pride you stand a little taller than the rest. Against you is the only match Tashi Duncan could never win. 

You pass by the doors of the locker rooms on your way out. You know Tashi must have waited with Art in his locker room before the match started – a private locker room, you would suspect, or one they bought out for the day in a grand show of money.

You frown. How many times had you waited with Tashi in locker rooms until tournaments began, how many times had you come in after her matches to listen to her talk through them while she got ready to leave? Enough times to know you weren’t alone in reminiscing, that Tashi could escape the memories with no more ease than you could. 

THIRTEEN YEARS AGO, STANFORD. 

You resist a smile – you can’t let her win, though you can see she’s trying inexplicably hard to. She never takes it seriously when you try to interview her for assignments for your classes at Stanford. 

“I can’t put that in my paper,” you tell Tashi. “I’d get us kicked out.” 

Tashi shrugs, stepping toward you as you stand in the locker room alone together after her match. “You asked what I was thinking about during the game. I was thinking about you.” 

You roll your eyes. You lean back against the lockers, and Tashi takes advantage of it, coming up in front of you to box you in. Her eyes meet yours – her intensity is unmatched, even after she’s won every game of tennis this season that’s been thrown at her by the university. Power means nothing to her, because using it is easy. 

“You don’t believe me?” Tashi asks. Nothing goes unnoticed by her, it was brave to roll your eyes. “You’re all I think about.” 

“Tennis is all you think about.” 

Instead of correcting you, she kisses you. Your hands find her waist, and wrap around her back when you pull her closer. She consumes your thoughts, your mind, and you’re happy to keep it that way with disregard to the price you might pay for it. 

Tashi’s hands slip under your shirt. One travels up your side, under your bra. You arch into her touch, senses clouded with her – until you hear voices outside the locker room, people leaving the building. 

You pull out of the kiss as the voices fade, and immediately she’s kissing your neck. “This is a terrible idea,” you murmur half-heartedly. You want her to prove you wrong. 

“No one’s coming in, I was the last match.” 

“But they could come in.” 

“They won’t.” 

You don’t seem convinced. Tashi moves to look at you, and tilts her head. 

“Tell me you don’t want this,” she demands. You see how she craves you, she’s willing to indulge herself after her latest victory. It wouldn’t be the first time you would find yourself here, against the lockers with every intention of letting her use you in the way she wishes. She sees through your words – she knows you want this just as much as she does. 

“No,” you say, because you do want this. You’ve wanted her all morning, since you saw her warming up for her match. And even if someone were to come in and find you with her, pressed up against the lockers and at her will, it would only prove a fact you dream of everyone knowing anyway: that in every way, Tashi Duncan is yours. Audiences may celebrate her, anyone might desire her, but at the end of every day it’s you she comes home to. It’s you she wants. 

“Good,” she mutters, and presses you harder against the locker, pressing space between your legs with her knee. She kisses down your neck, and one of her hands travels below the waistband of your shorts while the other is still at your chest. Her hands are cold against the warmth of your skin, sending a chill rippling down your back. 

“Be quiet,” Tashi orders, and you nod. An empty promise, but you’ll try your best. “Good girl.” 

Her praise has you biting back a moan as her knee moves away and her hand slides between your thighs. You can’t hold her gaze, the gravity it holds. 

Your hips chase her hand as she circles your clit – your hips buck back against the lockers, and the sound echoes through the room, and your moan would accompany the noise if not muffled by Tashi’s hand over your mouth. A quick reaction on her end, she knows your body better than you do. 

“Quiet,” Tashi whispers. She presses a kiss to the edge of your jaw, below your ear. You try for a deep breath, but it’s shaky. “I’m fucking you here, and you’re moaning? Anyone could hear you. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You nod again, her hand still over your mouth. Your eyes fall closed, her touch burns through you like fire. It’s not enough, it’s too much, it’s everything you need and more. 

Tashi feels the pleasure building in you – it inspires her to interrupt it, to pull both of her hands from you. 

You whine in protest, watching her in curious alarm. You need this, she knows you do. 

Tashi’s hands find your hips, and she watches you closely. A sadistic sort of smile pulls at her lips, one that has you squirming, reaching for her again. Your attempts are futile, your yearning feeds her desire to starve you, push you to your limits. “You have to be patient,” she says. 

And you will be, though everything in you aches for her. You will let her win, let her pick your cards and cheat the game to end in her favor. You’re content with it – a side that is not without reward to you as Tashi lowers to her knees in front of you, and when she looks up at you, she already knows she’s won. 

THIRTEEN YEARS LATER, NEW ROCHELLE.

The sun glares down at you through the windshield, but despite its best efforts, it cannot reach you. It’s cool in your car – it combats the sweltering heat of the morning in New Rochelle as you sit waiting for the final matches to start on the second day of the Challengers tournament. You don’t want to go sit down too early, there’s no point in submitting yourself to the discomfort of hot metal seats amongst the swarm of the audience until you have to. You’re content to sit here with your eyes closed for as long as you can, you finally have a moment to yourself after the chaos of traveling to New Rochelle. 

Tapping on your window makes you jump. Your eyes snap open, and when you see who waits on the other side of your car window, you wish you’d never traveled to the tournament at all. You knew he would be here, you saw him competing yesterday, but you had successfully avoided him and had left early after the first few matches.  

You roll your window down. Patrick Zweig stares at you with the most dumbass fucking smile you’ve witnessed in years. 

“Well, look who it is!” He exclaims. He leans an arm against the top of your car, but you shove him off of it through the window. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you snap. He frowns, and you sigh. It’s been nine years since you’ve seen him in person – since you broke up with Tashi – and not a day has passed in which you can decisively say you have missed him. 

“I’m competing,” he says. 

You furrow your eyebrows. “I know that. Why are you here, talking to me?” 

Patrick shrugs. “Can’t I take a second to reconnect with an old friend?” 

“An old friend?” you ask. “I don’t think we were ever friends.” 

“Maybe not, but I know you’ll be hoping I win instead of Art this afternoon.” 

You pause. “Art Donaldson? He’s here, competing?” 

“Yeah. You know, I was told you invited him and Tashi. It’s everywhere online. That’s why I came over here, to say thank you for setting up the match. Art and I are the only ones left in the division. I wanted to wish you luck, too, with whatever it is you plan to get out of having us all here.” 

You don’t respond for a moment. Vaguely you recall inviting Tashi to the Challengers tournament a few weeks ago after Art’s loss – Maybe there’s someone there your husband could beat for a change – but you had disregarded it. You had meant the entire thing as a joke, a jab at Art’s poor tennis performance. Never would you have expected the Donaldsons to remotely consider participating in a Challengers tournament. You regret leaving early yesterday, missing their arrival at a tournament so far beneath them. You would have enjoyed witnessing their shame. 

“I didn’t set anything up,” you tell Patrick, yet you doubt the validity of your own statement. “And I’m not planning on getting anything out of it.” 

“Whatever you say. I just know Tashi wouldn’t bother with something like this for the hell of it. Either Art’s tennis has gotten really fucking bad for them to stoop to a tournament this low, or she’s using him to be here with you. Or, of course, both can be true. I’m going with both.” 

You shake your head. “Tashi has no interest in me.” 

“It’s been nine years since she left you, and she still hates you. She would probably fucking stab you if given the chance. That’s not something to take lightly with her, it takes more than resentment to hold onto something that long. Even I’m not as lucky.” 

“I’m not interested in making amends with Tashi Donaldson.” 

Patrick shrugs. He gives you a look, I don’t believe you, that you want to punch him for. You have nothing to say to Tashi, no reason to wish to see her. You went up to talk to her those weeks ago at Art’s game because you wanted to taunt her with your presence. You wanted her to see that you were successful without her, you don’t need her. 

You wanted her to see you – you realize how it sounds, and that there’s no way you would win a dispute with Patrick if your only explanation for reconnecting with Tashi is I wanted her to see that I’m better than her husband. You look back to him with a facade of nonchalance. 

You don’t know what to say, so you shift the focus back to him. “You’re going to get killed in a match against Art.” 

“How would you know? You haven’t seen me play in years.”

“I don’t need to.” 

“Wow, thanks for having so much faith in me.” 

You roll your eyes. 

Patrick’s gaze shifts to something beyond your car, something his eyes trail for a few seconds before he turns back to you. “I need to go warm up,” he announces, and backs away from your car. “Write something heroic about me to publish when I win, will you?” 

You roll up your window. You watch him disappear from the parking lot. Peace still evades you once he’s gone – that Tashi would be coming to the tournament is enough to have you nearly in hysterics. The promise of her soon arrival has adrenaline coursing through you, though the emotion accompanying it is indecipherable. 

You loathe Tashi Donaldson. You hate her husband even more. But there’s something so addictive about being around her to prove it. To prove that it was a mistake to end things with you and pursue Art shortly after, that he could never live up to you. Your fame came from success in writing and journalism, Art’s fame came from Tashi and viral videos of Art flinging tennis rackets after his losses. It felt good for you to prove your worth in contrast to his. You finally have power over them, and you have every intention of using it. 

For better or worse, you still care about Tashi’s opinion of you. For better or worse, you still care for Tashi Duncan. 

A car pulls into the empty spot next to you. The glare of the sun against it burns your eyes, leaves you with the start of a headache. 

You turn to look at the owners of the vehicle. Immediately you understand what Patrick had been spying beyond your car, and why he had been so quick to flee. 

You missed them yesterday, but you wouldn’t miss them today. You turn your car off and get out. 

“Need help carrying that?” You ask Art as he picks up his gym bag out of the trunk of the car beside yours. “I don’t want you to break any rackets.” 

“That would look good for you,” he says dryly. He shuts the trunk. “To make it seem like you’re making amends.” 

“I have nothing to make amends for.” 

He’s silent. You have two thousand words to make amends for, actually, but you’ll never be caught apologizing. You wrote an article about Art’s tennis years ago that gave you much of your fame – an article that had suggested Art was one of the worst tennis players to come out of Stanford, and that it was a shame he was using Tashi’s injury to his advantage by convincing her to coach his mediocre games. You implied that he was using her, that he was a cheater in the very least as far as tennis was concerned. 

It was never your finest moment, but you would never regret it. He deserved it, and so did Tashi for the way the two of you left your relationship. 

A car door slams. You’re joined by Tashi. In a light blue dress she’s stunning, radiant beyond comparison with the man she comes to stand by. A man she knows she cannot defend, a man beneath her. 

She gives Art a tyrannical look. He’s going to go find the locker room, he says, as if he hadn’t played here yesterday, and with a final look between you and Tashi he takes his bag and begins his way across the parking lot. 

You’re left alone with Tashi. The two of you are silent – she’s waiting for you to say something, and you’re waiting to come up with something that sounds right. 

“I saw you talking to Patrick,” Tashi says at last. You nod. “Did he tell you he asked me to coach him?” 

A smile pulls at your lips. “No, he didn’t.” 

“Good. Now you have something to write about,” she says, taking a step towards you, “when he loses. You can write about how he tried so desperately to come out on top, and you can write about who he lost to.” 

It’s not about Art anymore. It’s not about Patrick, it’s not about this tournament. It’s about you. Tashi’s reversal, her revenge. She won when she left you ten years ago, you won with your article, and Tashi Donaldson has never been one to keep a tie. She’s been keeping score for nine years in preparation for an opportunity such as this, one to set the record in her favor. 

“I’m not interested in placing bets on failed prodigies.” 

“You’re not too good for it, though.” 

“You are. At least you should have been.” 

Tashi shakes her head. “What the fuck does that mean?” 

“You know what it means,” you say, and step closer. “It should be you on that court, not them. I should be writing about you.” 

You know you’ve struck a nerve. Tashi stills. Her expression was once unreadable, but now it reveals her resentment. At you maybe, but also at fate itself, because you’re right: it should be her competing. Winning for herself and not through others. She still bears the weight of power, but it’s no longer hers to use. 

“Your husband is going to lose,” you say, and you both know it’s a lie. But you will be there when Art wins, you will be there waiting for her to prove you wrong like she’s always craved. If it is winning that will let her make amends with herself, you will be the harbinger. You will let her cheat the game just so she can win. Maybe it’s all you’ve wanted this whole time, inviting her to the Challengers tournament. 

Maybe it’s your way of making amends. 

“Any final words before the game?” You ask, in the way you always used to ask her before her matches. Any final words. You used to laugh together about how apocalyptic it sounded, and Tashi used to watch you write about her after and use her quotes for assignments for your university classes. 

Tashi remembers the phrase, you see recognition sweep over her. She watches you closely, and behind her facade you see something too reminiscent to be hatred. “Fuck you,” she says, though her voice lacks animosity. 

“Is that on the record?” 

“Yes.” 

An uncanny way of making amends, but one you would welcome all the same. 

-

Her gaze sears into you as you sit in the stands watching the match. Tashi sits on the opposite side of the court, yet the two of you are positioned with a clear view of one another throughout the game. 

The score has fluctuated throughout the match. Patrick and Art have stayed consistent in score and loss – it’s closer than you thought it would be, enough that you see Tashi’s concern growing over the end result. Art is wearing, he’s becoming tired, and you know if he quits in his exhaustion he’ll leave with another loss. The Donaldsons will lose credibility, Tashi will disappear in the eyes of the media. 

You find yourself conflicted in all ways related to the match continuing before you. You want Art to lose every match he signs for – yet the thought of Tashi going down with him haunts you. Even after all she has done to you, all you have done to her, she deserves better than any path offered.  

You pause – the match has ended, the audience stands in applause. You stand to view the court, peering over shoulders, pushing your way out of the audience. 

Art Donaldson, standing in the middle of the court. He basks in the glory given by his victory, one long suspended in anticipation for you to be witness. He looks up to find Tashi in the stands, and you watch as something unsaid passes between them. An I told you so on Art’s end, and something unsatisfied from Tashi’s. 

You don’t need to watch the rest of it. You don’t need to see Art’s self-ordered victory lap, and you don’t need to hear the speech he’ll give the reporters waiting to flock to him. You don’t need to see Tashi by his side, so you leave the court. 

You make your way through the tennis complex. Fluorescent lights stare you down, their judgment shines brighter for you. You don’t give them anything to taunt you with, keeping your expression flat. It was obvious Art would win, and in his victory Tashi has been fulfilled. 

The click of heels trails you. You spare a glance over your shoulder as you walk, and you pause. Her eyes are on you alone in the empty hall. 

“Congratulations,” you say, dull. “Do you feel better now? I see Art does.” 

“Fuck Art,” she snaps. Tashi is empowered in her pride, which has not been placed in her husband, but in herself. This is not his victory, it belongs to her. She closes the distance between you, and if you moved back any further you’d be leaning against the wall. The door to the locker room is across the hall – your memories hardly feel like your own, hardly feel like they belong just the same to the woman in front of you, but they crash through you anyway. 

“This feels familiar,” you murmur, looking up at her. You look to see if the halls are empty, but Tashi wastes no such time – she pulls you against her, her lips on yours, hunger in her touch as the two of you realize how much time you have to make up for and so little opportunity for it. Her nails dig into the back of your neck until her hand weaves into your hair, and like you always have you melt into her every desire. 

“I win,” Tashi says once she pulls away. Her eyes bear into yours, dark and unforgiving, dominating. “I fucking win.” 

There’s nothing that could prove her wrong. Power cures, if you know how to use it. 

—

—

—

i wrote this fic so many different times honestly and i kept a few of the scenes I deleted from it bc it was getting too long so if anyone wants a part 2 lmk andddd i can put something together 😔

[writeroutoftime]

women run the world

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader (requested by: anon)

summary: after comforting eloise about a woman's lack to education, anthony makes a less than ideal comment that does not end well for him

warnings: none besides anthony's stupidity

words: 1.1k

a/n: another request from forever ago, but it is finally seeing the light of day! anyway, we love anthony, but sometimes he doesn't always think before he speaks, also this GIF just made me laugh and I thought it fit well with this fic lol. this was a lot of fun to write, so I hope you that you enjoy it! as always, please let me know what you think, and have a fantastic day!

oOoOo

Dearest Reader, Even within the most ideal love match our society has to offer, there is always the possibility for miscommunication - as was the case between one Lord and Lady y/n Bridgerton. However, this author has discovered that Lady Bridgerton has set the record straight for Lord Bridgerton, and for that, she has my sincerest gratitude. Lady Whistledown's Society Papers

Eloise slammed her book shut, groaning in frustration, which pulled you and the other Bridgertons from their own little bubbles.

"Whatever is the matter, Eloise?" Daphne asked calmly, looking up from her newest arrangement on the harpsicord.

With a dry chuckle, Eloise opened her mouth. "Why is it that the men in this country are afforded every opportunity for education, yet so many of them squander it when there are countless women dying for a chance to continue their education? I mean, what do I have to do for a chance to go to university?" she ranted.

"We live in a time where those in charge have small minds, and are fearful of what women could do if given the chance to achieve more." you offered gently, knowing the reasoning would do little to soothe her anger. "I happen to think you would thrive at university, and I know you could show everyone that us women are just as equal as men."

Before Eloise could offer her thanks, an almost indistinguishable chuckle came from the chair next to you. Your head immediately whipped to the side, eyes directly on your husband as he continued to read his newspaper.

"Was there something amusing that I said?" you dared to ask, voice low and spine stiff.

Anthony folded his paper before looking back at you. A whisper of a smile still on his lips. "I simply find the thought of women at university alongside men an outlandish thought." he began. "Do you not think women would already be allowed in if there was this equality between the sexes? I mean there are distinct physical differences, so it goes to reason that there would be differences in other areas as well."

The moment the words left his lips, the entire room went silent, and all seven other heads in the room snapped towards Anthony in varying degrees of shock. The women looked appalled at the words their brother had spoken while Colin and Benedict (and even young Gregory) shook their heads, knowing Anthony was in for it.

It was no secret to the Bridgerton family, nor to the ton, that you held rather "revolutionary" ideas about women's equality and place in society. At least, you thought the Bridgerton family knew, but it seemed as though your husband did not fall into that category.

Jaw tense, you took a deep breath, trying to find the apprioate words for this situation. "Anthony, is that how you truly feel?"

It was as though Anthony sensed he had misspoken, but was unable to stop the words that tumbled out of his mouth. "I-I suppose so."

The anger melted off your features only to be replaced with an eerily calm look as you spared your husband a glance. "You're right, my dear, there are distinct differences between our two sexes. In fact, you have just proven mine and Eloise's point that our society is ruled by those with small minds. If you could only see that the world around us would not function without the women in your life. The fact that you seemingly do not see that makes me question who it is I married. Excuse me." you finished before you stormed out of the drawing room and towards your bedroom.

Silence permeated the drawing room, and no one knew what to say next. Anthony sat frozen in his chair, staring at the spot you had just been in, unsure how the conversation had spiraled in such a direction. Unsurprisingly, it was Eloise who spoke first, directed towards her eldest brother.

"Truly unbelievable, brother. Are you going to continue to sit there or are you going to go after your wife?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

To his credit, Anthony had the decency to look sheepish as he slid off his chair and went to go after you, leaving his younger siblings laughing at his expense. Though none of them followed either of you, they could only imagine the scolding her would receive.

Anthony hesitantly knocked on your bedroom door, pushing it open slightly after a few moments with no response. "y/n?" Anthony prodded, peaking into the shared room. His eyes fell on your curled up figure on top the bed and he sighed heavily. "My love, I wish to apologize."

"Apologize for what? For what you said or because you made me angry?" you tested, wanting Anthony's apology to be genuine and for the right reasons not because he was told to.

Your husband looked frozen in shock, and you watched as the gears in his mind worked overtime to figure out the correct answer. "Uhhh, both?" he finally answered, though it came out more like a question.

With a huff, you crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. "Is that what you truly believe, Atnhony? Because if it is I don't know how this marriage is going to succeed. I thought you knew what I believed when we agreed to be together. Or was that all just to placate me in order to wed and bed me?"

"No, no, that's not true at all!" Anthony rushed to get out, and in an instant he was kneeling by your side. "y/n, I know my words were pigheadish and utterly inappropriate. I suppose I sometimes let the opinions of the ton guide my thoughts, even when they are wrong." he began, quickly holding up a hand before you could interject.

"I know, I know that does not excuse my actions. I want you to know that I fully support you in all possible ways, and I love you for your mind." he told you, offering a gently kiss to your knuckles. "You may scold me as long as you see fit, but please know I am by your side in all manners."

You were silent for a few moments, analyzing and decoding Anthony's confession. But you knew by the way his eyes soften and looked up at you with love and adoration he was completely sincere. Of course, that doesn't mean you still couldn't have your fun.

"Good." you simply said, leaning down to hover mere inches from Anthony's lips. He gratefully moved to close the gap, but you placed your hand on his chest to stop him. "Because women run the world, Lord Bridgerton. And don't you forget it." you whispered before you pushed away and left the room, leaving Anthony panting with a shiver down his spine as he watched your retreating form.

[fan-goddess]

could you write something with dom!aegon idk why i get the feeling that he’d be downright mean when he’s jealous 😵‍💫

Authors Note: Of course I can! I definitely see what you mean so I made him mean especially for you 😉 (also just realised this is my first Aegon request 😅)

Summary: Aegon doesn’t like it when you talk to his brother

Warnings: jealousy, spanking, dirty talk, P in v sex, orgasm denial, ass play if you squint, breeding kink (if I miss any let me know)

Taglist: @lovelykhaleesiii,

The ball has been the hands idea of uniting whatever support they had. A joyful occasion he had claimed. Yet when everyone turned up and the music tuned for people to dance to, no one did. It turned into a political evening where men would show there wives off and drink till there hearts content.

Your own husband was more leaning towards the second part. He’d left you early in the evening when a tray of a dornish red passed him and he chased after it eagerly like a wolf in the north would chase its prey, and as annoyed as you should be by his departure you cannot help but find it strangely endearing.

“I’m surprised my brother has left you alone, given his habits.” A voice breaks you from your thoughts, and when you turn around you are greeted by the face of Aemond.

“A certain Dornish Red took his priorities. Is Helaena not with you?”

“The noise and chatter, aswell as the stress of the babe became too much for her, so she’s gone to enjoy the company of the twins.” A rare small smile makes its way on Aemonds face at the mention of his dear wife and the children. It’s adorable to see the usual stoic and emotionless Aemond find such utter joy in the small family he has made for himself.

“Ahh. Give her my best when you see her next please dear brother.” You yourself cannot help but smile too. Helaena always seemed to have that effect on people. Making them adore her with no real intention.

Aemond and yourself talk like this for a while, with the only interruption being the refill of each others cups. You make sure to inquire on how Helaena’s doing as of late. The babe it seems is making her latest pregnancy more challenging than her time with the twins. Aemond reassures you though he is making her rest, as much as she protests to both his and your amusement.

Eventually though, the night begins to turn dark, and Aemonds eye seems to drift to something behind your figure.

“It appears my brother is done with that Dornish red…” He trails with a smirk. Your head turns with a smile, expecting to find Aegon with a kind smile. Only instead, Aegons face is practically thundering. His eyebrows are furrowed with a matching glare, but it’s not aimed at you. It’s aimed at Aemond.

The music that once loudly played throughout the hall, aswell as the overwhelming murmur of politics goes silent as Aegons eyes meet yours. He begins to make to make his way over to you both from the other side of the hall, and you can practically hear the thundering footsteps echo in your mind.

His eyes which whilst he walked were on you, now look to his brother with a thunderous look in them.

“Hello Aemond. You seem to be enjoying my wife’s attention an awful lot.”

“Yes brother. Me and her were just discussing how Helaena has been recently. You do remember her yes? My own wife?” Aemonds tone is one of a condescending nature. It almost makes you laugh. Yet only a hint of a smile appears. Both you and Aemond are well aware of Aegons possessive side. Sometimes the two of you would joke on how Aegon would sometimes wish to lock you in a tower and only he would have the key. Not that he’d ever dare do that of course.

Aegon eyes flicker to your lips as you quirk them, and with the rage you can slowly see festering in his eyes you know Aegon will most likely not forget it any time soon.

“It appears I have grown too much into my cups,” Aegon begins to say. His hand, which once clutched heavily on his goblet, now interlaces your fingers together tightly. “My wife I believe needs to fulfil her duties and escort me to our chambers.”

The look Aegon gives you, as well as the current grip that he holds, leaves no room for debate. He practically drags you by your arm from Aemond, with the latter laughing slightly whilst his brother does this.

When you arrive at your marriage chambers, one of the Cargyll twins is guarding the entrance, and turns to the both of you when he hears the thundering footsteps belonging to your husband.

“No one is to disturb us tonight Cargyll. No one to enter me and my wife’s chambers under any circumstance.” It’s not a suggestion, nor an ask. It’s a command with no room for disagreement. The guard nods his head with a murmured agreement, and steps aside to let you two in.

When you do both enter though, Aegon practically throws you in the direction of your shared bed. The thunderous look, whilst softened in your presence, still holds the same look of anger. “Get on the bed wife” He demands. While his eyes are soft, the tone he uses and the way his pants seem to tighten are not soft in anyway.

You follow his instructions obediently, sitting on the bed looking at him. He makes his way towards you, now towering over you while his fingers pinch your chin and lift your head to look him in the eyes.

“You weren’t acting very much like my wife at the ball today. You were acting like his wife…” By the way he hisses the word you know he’s talking about Aemond. Aegons always felt inferior to Aemond, and the sight of him making his wife laugh and be happy must’ve pushed him over the edge.

“I think I should punish you” he muses. His grip almost seems to tighten when he’s in thought. Though the mixture of the faint pain the grip gives and the atmosphere of the room makes a small whimper echo in the chamber.

Aegon focuses his gaze back to you at the sound. His mouth curving to a dark smile. “Flip you dress, hand me your smallclothes and bend over the fucking bed.” Again, there is no sympathy. Only a fake kindness and a dark intention.

When you take of your smallclothes, they’re already damp with how wet you are. Now they’re off, you can only run your thighs together to stop the slick from pooling on the part of the bed you lay on.

It’s only worse when you turn around to watch Aegon, and find him slightly sniffing your smallclothes before placing them in a pants pocket. “I think ten is a good number. Ten spanks for laughing and flirting with my brother?”

“I wasn’t flirting with him!” You snarl. A sudden burst of confidence hit you. It goes away though as quickly as it came though, as a sudden harsh slap is directed to your ass cheek.

“That one was for talking back to your husband. These ones I want you to count. If you can’t, we’ll start again.”

The first slap comes down hard and fast. You barely manage to utter the first number before his hand comes down on you again. He does this a few more times, giving various pauses both for you to moan a number and for him to get the element of surprise.

“What number are we on now little whore?” Your head feels like it’s working. So much so you’re barely able to utter the number. “Say it louder for me princess. Be a good wife for me…”

“It’s seven husband…” You whimper.

He praises you before making quick work of getting the slaps over and done with. Each time you whimper the remaining words louder with a whine. “Well don’t I have such a little whore for a wife…” His hand caresses the deep red skin that’s taken the slight shape of his hand, and laughs when you slightly edge away from him. “Oh no dear wife you stay right there. Besides…” The same hand travels from your ass to your soaking cunt. There’s no barrier between you two, so when his fingers swipe at your soaking cunt you cannot help but moan in denied pleasure. “It appears you fucking loved it either way…”

When you turn around, you practically feel yourself salivating at the sight of your husband slurping at the wetness he picked up with his fingertips. It only gets worse when you turn back around, and hear the sound of Aegon undoing his belt and the rustling of his clothes. You can’t help yourself from turning around again, and feel a whole new patch of wetness forming at the sight of his nude form. The stretch marks from his recent weight increase aswell as the marks and scars he received from battle were nothing but glorious to admire.

“I thought I told you to turn around?” He teasingly asks, slighting pinching the red skin he’d slapped raw earlier. You whimper slightly, but it’s quickly replaced with a sharp moan when you feel Aegon slide into you harshly, with no regards for your comfort.

He lifts your ass, so now he’s positioned you so it’s in the air while your upper half is slumped on to it bed. When he begins to thrust quicker and harsher, you can already feel your knees buckle under the weight and fierceness. Yet you can’t, as his hands grip your thighs tightly.

You don’t even realise your practically screaming his name at this point. It comes out in small bursts whenever his cock seems to magically brush against that spot inside you yourself can never reach.

That coil that’s been tightening ever since Aegon first spanked you is almost at its limit. Your almost there, about to feel utter euphoria… before the complete full feeling of Aegons cock is taken away and the coil inside you is quickly loosened.

Your head feels a strange sort of funny, and is unable to process what has exactly happened. Yet when you turn around to look accusingly at Aegon, his dark eyes are already tuned to looking at your unkempt and body.

“You will take what I give you wife.” Is all he says before he is back at it again, heavily thrusting inside you with no mercy. His hand reaches out and takes ahold of your bare throat, squeezing slightly so whilst you can still breath, there’s still some breathlessness.

“Do you think my worthless brother could make you feel as good as this?”he hisses. You can already feel your peak coming once more with the lack of breath Aegon provides you with. However, once again when you feel yourself about to reach a wondrous high, Aegon all of a sudden pulls himself out and smiles.

“Please husband! Don’t be so cruel!” You whine. Your cunt now feels sore, yet it still aches for more. When Aegon lightly hits you right on your pearl, you can feel yourself subconsciously clench on nothing and moan lightly in the sheets.

“As I said before wife… you take what I give you. Though maybe I have been cruel…” His tone is misleading. You have been married to Aegon long enough to know what that sounds like. Yet your mind cannot seem to pick up on that, only thinking of a possible peak you may or may not receive.

While you head is slowly surrounded by a faint cloudiness, you can feel Aegon slowly insert himself into you and pick up to a rigorous pace. You can’t even hear you see moaning and whining anymore from the buzz that only seems to grow more prominent.

What brings you back though, is the slight intrusion you feel on you puckered hole. You can’t even turn your head to ask Aegon what he is doing due to his hand still holding a firm grip on your neck. You can only find it within yourself to mumble some illegible words as your peak soon comes for the third time that evening. You do fear Aegon will deny you once more, but it seems your peaks arrival only seems to entice Aegon to be faster, to be harder in his movements. His weight is already practically holding you down, making it so only your wrists and head can really move.

It feels worth it, when the feeling of utter euphoria hits you. You clench harshly on Aegons cock, faintly feeling the wet patch that’s formed on the bed. Only it’s not over, Aegon is still pounding inside of you holding onto you firmly.

“A-Aegon w-what…” You mumble within a moan as the coil which only just unraveled is already tightening once more.

“You claimed I was being cruel?” His voice held innocence, yet even with your head clouded with an impending peak, you could tell his bullshit a mile away. Though the more he speaks the more the once innocent tone darkens to a more possessive one. “Now… I’m going to give you my cum. You’ll take it like the good and obedient wife of mine I know you can be, and who knows… maybe if I fuck a child into your tight cunt, they’ll know exactly whose wife you are…”

With the combined sound of his voice, the nudges Aegons cock is providing to your special spot, and Aegons single finger teasing and dipping slightly into your puckered hole, you’re not surprised at how quickly you are able to finish once more. You could feel your own juices flow out of you and drip down your legs. Your strength is long gone, so now the only thing that holds you up is Aegons thick arms.

Within the spasming of your cunt, you can hear Aegons loud groans echo in the room, indicating he’s close to his own release. His mumbles soon turn to rambles, which soon turn to near shouts. “You’ll take my cum, without spilling a drop, because you’re a good wife. I’ll breed you so all of this realm knows your mine by the seed that grows deep in your belly… yeah they’ll all see…” All near the same as his eyebrows furrow in a strangely beautiful way.

You moan slightly as you feel your inner walls get painted with Aegon cum. Though you quickly whimper in slight pain as the previous actions catch up to you.

Aegon grabs one of the many pillows that uselessly lie in your chambers and uses it to prop your lower half upwards slightly. When you turn to him with a lazy raised brow, he can only respond with, “Maester said it increased chance of you being pregnant. No idea how.” While he makes sure to find a comfortable position for you to sleep in, insisting on your lower half being up still to your annoyance. “It’s for the baby!” He just kept insisting.

It’s almost annoying when Aegon finds you a good position, and the exhaustion from the previous activities hits you quicker than you’d expect. It’s a wonderful moment, listening to the sound of your husbands heartbeat, and relishing in that Targaryen heat they all seem to possess.

You even find yourself lazily tracing a hand on your stomach, imaging it swelling in a few months, and making Aegon a father. That night while you slept, you had dreams of a little girl playing and giggling with Aegon, while she called him her kepa. You’d already decided on a name for her. Her name was to be Aelora. Aelora Targaryen, first of her name.

[gingerlee-holds]

I feel bad for popping a request in ☠ anyway

If you're feeling up to it, perhaps ler Todoroki x lee Reader (bc me and reader insert are inseparable /j) from MHA? Length, perhaps 900+ words if possible? But I'll be grateful for anything haha, I also don't want to force you to write more if you're not feeling inspired i'm gonna be honest here I haven't watched MHA in a long time ☠ and I have no idea what scenarios would be realistic because he's,, Todoroki,,

Personally i'm a sucker for evil/more intense tickles because I wish I was ticklish but if that makes you uncomfy do feel free to ignore :)

oh hush, you!!! i love requests, so thank you so so much!! i just hope this is somewhat what you wanted heehee- enjoy!!! i have a huge crush on this dork so that creeps in- also the reader's quirk is whatever you want it to be, cuz its not mentioned- also also!! im really really sorry if i fuck the names up cuz from what i know of the show, Todoroki is the family name, so Shoto is the given name but i could be totally wrong

i just wanna say that i really really like writing the rambly bits from Shoto about the book-

the reader is sorta a brat lol

Like Poetry

Words: 2,334 Pairing: Ler!Shoto, Lee!Reader Warnings: lotta fluff!!! not proofread!!!

You groaned as you entered the common room. Mr. Aizawa’s personal training was brutal today, and you were not looking forward to feeling how sore your muscles would be tomorrow morning. Sighing, you grabbed one of Sato’s cupcakes from the counter and flopped onto the sofa, confident it would be unoccupied. It was about seven in the evening on a Friday, which meant everyone was either in their rooms or somewhere around town. 

You huffed into the mattress before gasping at the sound of a page being turned. Looking up, you saw you were about a foot away from, in your mind, the strongest student in your class. He was sitting with perfect posture, reading a book with yellowed pages. On the coffee table sat a mug filled with tea.

Shoto Todoroki didn’t look up from his book at you. If he knew you were there, he didn’t show it. He silently read, seemingly fully absorbed. You sat upright, shaking off the embarrassment of almost landing on him, of all people. 

You cleared your throat and gobbled up your cupcake in one bite, setting the wrapper down next to his tea. Still, he didn’t move. Raising an eyebrow, you poked him in the side to get his attention, and the surprised gasp he gave made you giggle. Shoto looked at you, brow furrowed in annoyance, but his face soon softened when you smiled and waved.

“Hi!” you said chipperly. 

He nodded politely in return. “Hello, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.”

With a chuckle, you shoved his shoulder. “No worries! Whatcha reading, bookworm?”

Shoto tilted his head. “I’m not a worm.”

You sighed and repeated your question without the tease. You loved that your classmate was so adorably literal. 

“I’m reading this book of old poetry. I don’t remember where I got it - it feels like my family’s always had it lying around. I decided to read it today since everyone’s out.” His voice was calm as he spoke.

You were somewhat interested in the subject but mostly just wanted to hear him talk some more. It was so rare that he spoke. “Anything good in there?”

“I found this one that I liked,” Shoto said before flipping back a few pages. “Rain on lemongrass. / Ash trees weep o’er their lost sun: / Their light and love, gone.”

The poem made you hum in thought. “What’s it about?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” he asked. Taken on its face, it was an insulting question, but you knew Shoto was genuinely unsure whether to explain it. You shook your head in reply. “The poem is about heartbreak. A woman falls in love with someone, and suddenly, that person has to leave. The woman feels like she has nothing left as she cries into a world that has bigger concerns than her. Soon, perhaps, her love shall return, the sun re-emerging from the clouds, but there’s also the possibility that she doesn’t last until then, and the wind blows her over. Ash trees symbolize grief, so perhaps they may never meet again. The lemongrass, evoking a cheerful memory, is smothered under the rains that hide her beloved.” Suddenly, he looked up from the page. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was rambling.”

You scratched your head. “How did you get all that from just three lines?” You didn’t mind, of course. He was cute when he rambled. To your great surprise, he let out a soft and sheepish smile. 

“Well, I suppose I have too much time on my hands,” he said, looking away. You smirked and poked his side again, giggling at his surprised reaction. Shoto let out a muffled yelp and jumped, glaring at you suspiciously and rubbing his side. “Quit that.” 

“Sorry, Icy-hot! Can’t be helped!” You held up both your hands in mock surrender.

“Hm,” Shoto mumbled, looking back to the book. “This book was written entirely by hand. See? This character is slightly different here, here, and here,” he continued, pointing at different parts of the page. “And from what I can tell, its publication predates quirks, hence why they are not mentioned. If they had quirks, you would think there’d be a suggestion of their existence, no? Yet there’s nothing. For all intents and purposes, it seems like this book is a remnant of a simpler world.” His expression looked distant as if his mind were a hundred miles and years away. 

You leaned back, folding your arms behind your head. “Sounds dorky. Maybe you should tell Deku! I’m sure he’d be all too interested,” you chuckled, then looked over. If he heard your comment, he gave no sign. He must still be lost in thought. Looking down at his side, you saw it was perfectly exposed. You were pushing your luck. Then again, what is a hero if not someone who tries their luck? You pursed your lips together and quickly extended your hand to poke Shoto’s side again. 

But he was faster. As if expecting your reckless act, he set his book down and grabbed your hand before it made contact in one fluid movement. “You don’t listen, do you?”

“I do my utmost to avoid doing that, yes,” you said, giggling nervously. His grip was firm, giving you no delusions of escape. His hand was chilly, as if Shoto was threatening to encase your whole arm in ice at any moment. You tugged slightly.

He didn’t let go. “No, you need to learn this lesson.” Somehow, that was among the scariest things you’ve ever heard, right alongside the speech of the hero killer and Mr. Aizawa announcing an extra homework assignment before the summer break. Shoto pushed your legs toward the end of the couch, pinning you to his chest with both hands held behind you. You shuddered as Shoto said, “Now, learn well.”

Since both your hands were stuck behind you against his torso, you couldn’t defend yourself whatsoever when he descended both hands onto your stomach. You erupted into bright, bubbly laughter and kicked your feet like that would do anything to help. All that went through your head was repeated, ‘Oh, fuck, that tickles!’ 

You heard Shoto’s hum of approval from behind you as he clawed his fingers over the thin fabric of your shirt. “Interesting,” he mumbled to himself. 

“ShIhihihihIt! ShohOhOHohotoHoHoho!” You shook your head and thrashed all you could, but it didn’t matter. Shoto was stronger, and he would make sure you knew it. 

“Yes, Y/N?” he asked casually.

“STohohoHOAhaap!!” It didn’t have a chance of working, but it didn’t hurt to try.

“No.” Shoto’s clawed hands squeezed around your stomach in circles, taking a moment to dwell on your extra-ticklish lower stomach, which he took delight in exploiting. If you didn’t know any better, you would even say he enjoyed it as much as you were. 

“NohOHoHOhoHT TheheHEherre!” you pleaded helplessly, throwing your head back to give your torturer the best puppy eyes you could… although they were far less effective than you had hoped since they were quickly squeezed shut in uproarious laughter. 

“Here? Right here, yes?” Shoto released a flurry of pokes on your lower stomach as if he wanted confirmation.

You nodded and hiccupped, doing all you could to contain the blush that bloomed on your face at the sound of his cooing hum. Mercifully, he gave you a break, and you panted for breath against him. “Shihihitt…” you giggled, squirming in his grasp to get the ghost tickles off your tummy. 

“Here,” Shoto said, and you turned to see he was holding up his mug for you. Gratefully, you took a big sip of the refreshing tea, smiling a little at the warmth of it. It was strangely sweet; you had expected Shoto to only like the bitter teas, but surprisingly, the flavor was somewhat sugary. As if reading your mind, Shoto said, “It’s chamomile. It helps me relax.” He took the mug from your mouth and set it back on the table. 

Shoto cleared his throat. “Now,” he began, “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Is my release dependent on how I answer that?”

“Yes.”

“Then… Never!” You madly giggled as you attempted to escape his grasp before quickly regretting it. He had you suitably pinned, and to further reinforce his lesson, you realized with terror that he was rolling up your shirt to your ribs. “Wait, Shoto-!”

Your tormentor didn’t give you time to finish. Without fanfare, his hands descended onto your exposed tummy. Instead of clawing around, as he had done before, he was using quick scribbles, which, coupled with his cold fingers on your bare skin, was maddening. 

“SHohOhoHOTO!” You had no idea you were so ticklish! By the looks of things, it seemed like he had been in tickle fights before, and from how badly he was wrecking you, he was used to winning them. 

He hummed in thought as your thrashing weakened. “Your belly button is incredibly ticklish,” he observed. It was, to your dismay, very accurate. It didn’t help that his cold finger was heightening the feeling!

“PLehEHehEHHEase! MeheHEheheercyy!” you squealed out, kicking and bucking like a horse.

“Goodness, you’re dramatic. It’s only tickling, Y/N. If anything, this should build your endurance. What if the League captured you? I doubt you’d last a minute before you spill everything you know if they knew this weakness of yours.”

Why did he have to be so monotone with his teasing? He sounded so casual as if he were still explaining the history of that old book - only he was speaking over your hysterical cackling. He was a fast learner, too: he was pretty adept at locating the spots that got an especially wild reaction out of you and cruel in punishing them.

Shoto’s fingers increased in pace while always keeping one wiggling about in your navel. “I know,” he said, “I get it; you’re very, very ticklish. Now calm down.” You could hear the smile in his voice. He was having fun! “I wonder… you’ve inspired me to write my own poetry! Let’s see…” He paused to think, unfortunately not slowing down the tickles, making you yelp and shriek. “Ticklish cutie / Squealing on the couch with glee / With a cute tummy,” he slowly said as if writing it down. With a gasp, you felt him do just that, writing down the poem on your belly with the tip of his fingernail. 

You turned beet-red as you threw your head back, your laughter turning silent. You had long since begun crying with delight, and tears rolled down your cheeks in rivers, but he didn’t stop until you started coughing. With a chuckle, he released you, and you panted for breath. You didn’t move from his lap, and Shoto didn’t seem to mind. He gently placed a hand on your forehead, tilting it toward him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked gently. You nodded with a smile, which he returned. His smile was inviting, like a sunbeam on a winter’s day. He slowly helped you sit back up and handed you his mug again. You eagerly gulped it down. The tea was warm and sweet, and when you finished it and set it back on the table, you realized that Shoto wasn’t too different. 

“Thank you, Shoto,” you said softly.

“For the tea?”

“Yes,” you replied, “and… for the tickles. It… helped me unwind.” You looked away and rubbed your neck shyly. 

“You’re welcome, Y/N. It was fun for me, too. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that.” He smiled again, a small treat like candy. “It’s nice to see you so carefree. You’re usually a ball of nerves,” Shoto admitted bluntly, making you sigh and nod in agreement. 

You basked in the silence for a bit before both of you suddenly looked up. That was the unmistakable sound of… And right on cue, the word ‘mumble’ began to figuratively float across your field of view. At its origin, you and Shoto saw Izuku madly scribbling in his notebook and mumbling about something. You swore you caught the words “ticklish,” “stomach,” and “squeals.” 

Behind Izuku, standing in the hallway, were Ochaco, Denki, Tsuyu, Mina, Eijiro, and Kyoka. The first two desperately attempted to quiet Izuku, to no avail. You sat bolt upright, glaring at the unwelcome audience. 

Eijiro broke the silence with a playful swat to the back of Izuku’s head. “You got us caught with your nerd shit, Deku,” he joked, making the green-haired hero look away backfully. 

“That was adorable!” Mina grinned, pointing at you. “You made a bunch of noise, so we wanted to check it out!” 

“You’d better erase what you wrote, Deku.” You spoke calmly but in a way that gave no misapprehensions about your seriousness. 

Ochaco looked over Izuku’s shoulder. “Doesn’t look like he’s gonna do that.”

“Midoriya,” Shoto spoke up. “Be sure to write that they couldn’t use their quirk while being tickled.”

You gasped at the betrayal. “Don’t you fucking dare write that, Deku!”

With a glance, Denki, Kyoka, and Tsuyu replied simultaneously, “Oh, he’s already writing it.”

With a growl, you shot from the couch. “You’re fucking dead, Deku!” Your classmates yelped with shock and ran down the hall from you, stifling their giggles. 

Eijiro, egging you on, tossed back over his shoulder a snide, “Now you’re sounding like Katsuki!”

“Oh, I’ll make Katsuki look like a fucking bag of pop rocks when I’m done with you idiots!” Your threat carried no heat since it was filled with giggles. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ludicrousness of the situation, smiling fondly at how much you loved your friends.

And behind you, on the couch, Shoto grinned with pride as he picked up his book to continue reading. He was glad he had been allowed to be so affectionate with someone for a chance. Absent-mindedly, he picked up his mug of tea for a sip but sighed disappointingly at the lack of tea inside. Maybe he needed bigger mugs. 

[boyfridged]

thank you, @tasonpjodd for your generous donations to spotlighted campaigns! if anyone would like to help out, please check my list. i am currently taking prompts for ficlets in exchange for proof of support of palestinians' fundraisers. details here. below -- the requested ficlet: dick and jason reconnecting after jason's return. once again -- thank you, dear! enjoy.

&you need a shovel (1435 words, sketch*)

When Bruce told him, months before: “I’m sure. The body wasn’t there,” Dick thought: bullshit. That was bullshit, and Bruce probably dug up his little brother’s grave for nothing, and… And perhaps it was reasonable. The only way to know for sure. 

“You’re not going to do it,” Donna told him, her voice muffled. 

And he was not going to. 

A flock of birds passed somewhere above, their caws so loud he could hear the cry with the doors closed, through the glass. 

“Where even are you?” Her voice cracked on the line again. 

“In a car,” he replied, impassive. A car. Nothing like the nice models he used to drive and show off. Not even a license plate permanently attached.

“Going to?” 

He looked out of the window, at the empty road, emptier, blackened acres surrounding it, and finally, at the distant city skyline. Then, he looked at the map plastered on his windshield and the pastel blue notes attached to it, thinking.

“Dick. Where are you staying? I thought you were with Bruce.”

Not far. The dots and connecting them lines sketched with a dark marker concentrated in the heart of Ocean County, New Jersey. Whatever they say about Rome.

“Or are you still looking for him?”

“No.” Because about that, she was right. Jason would come, if he wanted. He had to know he could, so– “It’s just a murder case.” Or five. 

She stayed silent for a split second, but with Blüdhaven razed to the ground, he could easily predict where the conversation was going. Everyone asked the same questions, wearing the same sympathetic face of grief. No one knew his.

“I have to go.”

“Dick–”

He hung up. There was nothing to say about Blüdhaven.

***

And then there is Gotham. With his childhood and family that can be traced back there like a murder trail. 

The case he’s been studying is colourless, no spandex in sight, but if it turns out to be more, he will not be surprised. Still, for now, he finds himself enjoying the bare bones detective work, something he also liked in his time- his time undercover with BPD. 

The victims do not exactly fit one profile. Four of them are rich, yes, the old money kind. That got the local cops working. The timeline Dick has written down, leaning over the console, reviews that in detail. They were first declared missing, with speed that only cash of their families could buy. Then, body parts appeared in Gotham dumpsters, as if strategically. A stomach and a hand. A loose head and a pair of lungs. 

Weeks of prodding lead to the next piece of jigsaw as if it was destined to fall into a missing spot in a finite formula, still loose but undoubtedly in place. The man; the crime; the date, aligning flawlessly. 

So Dick arrives at the driveway of Lehman’s off-city property, west of Bristol, not entirely sure what he’s expecting, a scenario after scenario pushing at him like a headache. There was already a suspicion growing at the back of his mind, or his heart, a hope, a wrong word given the circumstances– 

So perhaps the image that haunted both his dreams and waking hours. A boy, still just a boy, his frame unsteady, flickering on a rattling train, a boy on a trapeze, a boy calling him from the other side of the road only to disappear after a blink, a boy at his kitchen table, a boy in the coffin, more charcoal ash than a boy, or still a flame that goes out too quickly. A boy falling, cascades of dazzling colours and fingers slipping out of his own. 

He presses the brakes at the open gate. The tyres stagger on the cobblestone. 

This is not a watercolour of Dick’s grieving mind,  but a young man, shielding his bare eyes from the lights of the car, his hand fixated on a gun. 

For a second, Dick forgets how to breathe. His knuckles turn unnaturally pale on the wheel. He has to meet his own, bloodshot eyes in the rearview to confirm that they are open at all; that what he is seeing is real.

He gets out, willing himself to check the surroundings, and there it is, a shape of a victim on the ground, a red mess of limbs, right behind Jay. Jay, no mask on his face and posture so rigid that Dick takes his next step almost in slow motion, as if approaching a startled animal. 

“That’s– you,” Jay says and the initial shock in his voice, raspy, with a single odd note of youth, slips into chagrin that Dick would rather pretend to be the sustained surprise. 

“That’s me,” He confirms, and he too sounds almost foreign to himself. The casualness of it all is  inappropriate. 

He sticks his hands in his pockets. 

Jason’s hand remains close to the gun, the only visible weapon on him. Other than that- nothing. He’s wearing a black sweater, out of all things, a bit rough, a striped scarf, no gloves, jeans. He is not dressed for the weather, and definitely not for the activity. 

There is last hoarfrost on the already greening grass. Maybe this is why Jason pulls the sleeves over his hands, ignoring the newly acquired stains. 

“Where’s your–”

“I’m in the middle of something, so unless–” Jason begins at the same time. It’s acidic, or an attempt at. A challenge. 

“Unless what?” He questions, still standing there like a directionless pole. Unless he is there to stop him, maybe? 

Mere months ago, Dick stood and watched a man get shot, static. 

It is too late to stop anything. 

Lehman is very much dead. Not only is he dead, but in an interrupted process of being dismembered. Blood is soaking into the ground where a leg lies, and it is grotesquely bright, the type of brightness only a bone on display can seem to emit. 

And Jason’s expression is indescribable, just for a moment, carefully blank. Then he kneels next to the body, takes a loud breath in and closes his eyes. As if looking at Dick causes him great pain. Or– he could be praying, Dick thinks, hysterically, but there’s a frown building at Jason’s forehead to disprove this theory. His eyelids snap back open quickly enough too, and he reaches for the saw. He finds the slit of the injury on the body’s arm and pushes through with ferocious expertise that should not be so impressive. 

There is a bit of an uncomfortable slide to it under pressure. Dick does not think. He comes up and stomps on the loosely opened hand to stabilise the corpse. It’s firm under his boot. 

“This is a mess.” Dick says, like this is a thing to focus on- But his little brother has never liked messes. 

Jason’s eyes flicker to the side, at a gasoline tank he must have brought with, like it’s an ever-reliable answer. 

“I don’t… I don’t get what you’re doing,” Dick adds, despite the understanding dawning on him. 

“You don’t even know what you’re doing.” 

“Excuse me— I’ll let you know,” He replies, his voice still distant, just a hint of humour ringing out excruciatingly, too close to conscience, “I have worked plenty cases like this.” Usually arresting the offender, not helping them. The irony is not lost on him. “And it will be hard to smoulder it enough. Better bury him.” 

The grit of the saw comes to a momentary stop, the idea taken into consideration.

“Why? You got a shovel?” Jason mocks.

“I do.” 

There is a moment of silence. Dick would be too ashamed to admit that momentarily, he feels something like a shadow of satisfaction– or confidence, reinstilled. Yet, the tick of vanity cannot last in the face of vulnerability embodied. 

Jason’s wide grey eyes look up at him, properly for the first time, a trace of apprehension not disguised. 

“Where’s your… Car? Bike?” Dick asks, which earns him no response but another dubious look.

The thought that Jason walked eighty minutes on foot, just to slaughter this guy– It is becoming realistic. 

“Right.”

There’s a crumpled pile of black trash bags on the curb. Dick opens one, and gestures around.

“How about we- pack it up. And drive up into the forest.” 

Everything in Jay’s pose – the stubborn silence, how he bites at his lips, the tension of his jaw and arms, promises rejection. 

But when Dick extends a hand, he takes it at once. 

His brother’s- Dick’s now too, their hands, slide, sticky and red. And Dick helps Jason up.

*this ficlet will see a full-length version sometime this year, under the same title. for now -- thank you for reading. support gaza.

[fullmoans]

Home is a Fire | Part 3

They left Stiles out because they knew the nogitsune would tear him apart, but now the nogitsune is gone and Stiles can feel the nemeton telling him it isn’t over — not for him. And maybe not for Derek either.

It was just after noon when Stiles pulled up to a small gas station a few blocks from the address his dad texted him for Derek’s house. He needed gas, a sandwich, and a plan. Would Peter have any idea how to contact Cora? It’s not like they were close. Had Derek ever gotten back into a semi-consistent contact with her? After a few minutes, his tank was full and he’d grabbed a cold sandwich from the store.

The new Hale house was very similar to his fathers’. A simple, two story home likely built in the early 90’s. He noticed multiple locks on the door when he knocked.

“No one’s home,” he heard Peter call, though the locks clicked open one-by-one just a moment later. “Ah, my favorite.” Stiles stared at him. In the back of his mind, he wondered what had changed him so deeply that he didn’t have a sarcastic remark even for Peter Hale.

“We have to find Cora.” Stiles walked past Peter until he found a small living room and sat down. “When’s the last time you heard from her?” Looking around the room, he noticed Eli was sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone. His attention was pulled up, curious about the new guest in their home.

“I know that Derek had gotten back into contact with her but I’m not the biggest family man these days. He did say she had given him a phone, in case of emergencies only, but I don’t know where he would’ve kept it.”

“What do you want to know about Cora?” Eli’s full attention had shifted to Stiles and Peter now.

“I need to talk to her. It’s important,” Stiles said. He didn’t want to give up too much information to Eli. Getting his own hopes up was one thing but he wouldn’t let Eli think there was a chance until he was sure. Eli seemed to be thinking, deciding whether to trust Stiles with some information he knew, and Stiles took the time to really look at him. He saw so much of himself in Derek’s son. There was an expression on his face that he couldn’t hide – one that Stiles knew well. That was the face of someone who liked getting himself into trouble. “You’re the kid with my Jeep right?” Eli met his eyes then.

“I’m just taking care of it. I get it if you want it back.”

“That Jeep is the last thing my mother left me. She meant everything to me. I know a little about what you’re going through and when I was lost most, when I couldn’t find a reason to keep going, fixing her was something I could focus on. In a way, she gave me a purpose every time that I wasn’t sure if I could live without my mom. As long as you keep her running, she can be your purpose too.” After he spoke, Stiles broke Eli’s eye contact. He could feel tears in his eyes and see them reflected in the kid’s. It was silent for a moment.

Eli spoke more enthusiastically this time. “Dad and I had a plan if anything ever happened to us. We were supposed to meet up in the garage and then we’d leave town and go to Cora’s. He kept a duffle bag there – he called it our ‘go bag.’” He got up and took a few steps towards Stiles. “I can show you where it is. I should’ve called her anyway.”

Stiles considered Eli’s offer. He didn’t want to get the kid involved in whatever he was doing but it didn’t seem like there was another option. Peter wasn’t fighting to take him there instead. Peter, well Peter seemed to have completely disappeared from the room. Stiles spun around but there was no sign of him. He sighed. “Okay, my car’s out front.”

“Are you kidding? We’re taking the Jeep.”

Xx

It was so unusual for Stiles to sit in the passenger side of the Jeep. He had forgotten how rough it was on even the smoothest of roads and being in the passenger seat, not being able to feel the engine from the pedal, emphasized every bump. Still, he enjoyed the breeze on their short ride over to the garage. When they parked, he studied the kid again. ‘He’s so much like me,’ he thought. ‘I bet he gave Derek Hell.’

“What?” Eli asked, when Stiles didn’t make any move to get out of the car.

“What happened to your mother? You don’t have to answer –”

“She was killed.” Stiles nodded, not wanting to push him, but he kept going. “I was a baby so I don’t remember any of it. Apparently, Dad had gone to live with Cora and her pack. He met my mom in Cora’s pack – said she reminded him of an old friend. I got a lot of her features, that’s why I only really have Dad’s hair. One morning, him and Cora had taken me so that my mom could catch up on some sleep. A few rogue hunters attacked. When Dad and Cora got back, the pack had killed the hunters, but not before one of them killed her. That’s the way he told the story to me, at least. I never really knew her.”

All Stiles could think was how hard that must’ve been on Derek. All of his life, he had been through so many shitty things. If there was a god, they really had it out for Derek Hale. “He was lucky to have you,” Stiles said.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I pushed him too far, I think.”

“When my mom died, I pushed my dad. I snuck out every night. Once, I overheard him talking about a body in the woods and I made Scott come out, in the middle of the night, and try to find it with me. That’s how Scott got turned. Anyway, I gave him so much shit. Still, he always said I reminded him of my mom. He said it hurt less to lose her because he got to have me. I know Derek would’ve thought the same.”

It was silent again, until Stiles opened his door. He heard Eli’s door open too and followed him into the garage. “He talked about you,” Eli said.

“I talked about him, too. I should’ve talked to him, instead.”

Xx

Eli left Stiles standing in the middle of the garage. He’d gone into an office where he said Derek hid important things. He came back with a duffle bag that was almost half his size. “This is the bag. I’ve never looked inside of it – always thought it was probably boring stuff like my birth certificate.”

Stiles laughed. It was a small, short laugh, but still something he didn’t do a lot these days. With a smile still on his face, he kneeled down as Eli dropped the bag. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Eli was smiling too.

The bag did have a lot of boring stuff. Eli was right about the birth certificate – it was in a big file folder which had the deed to the land of the Hale House, a few old car titles, and more papers. There were also a few pairs of pants and approximately 20 black shirts. There was a smaller black bag at the bottom which Stiles pulled out and unzipped. Inside were 3 burner phones, all turned off. He switched each of them on and looked through the contacts. One had names he knew – Malia, Peter, his Dad, and Scott. One had Deaton and a bunch of names he didn’t know. Family friends, maybe. Maybe other packs Derek had come across. The last one that he turned on had only a single number in it. There wasn’t a name on this contact but he knew it had to be Cora. He pocketed this one, turned the rest back off, zipped the bag, and put Derek’s ‘go bag’ back together. “Got it,” he said.

Eli took the bag back to where he’d gotten it from before returning. On the way out, Stiles noticed that Eli was putting a code into the office door. He hadn’t been paying enough attention before. “You keep it locked?”

“Yeah, no particular reason. Dad’s big on security. The code’s 7687-9653 if you need to get back in. The numbers spell ‘sour wolf.’ Some kind of joke he always set his passwords to.” Eli passed Stiles on the way to the Jeep because Stiles had stopped walking. He’d made the wrong choice when he left. Lydia had been everything he told himself he wanted ever since he could remember and she’d become smarter, stronger, and even more beautiful with every passing day back then. And yet, it was so obvious now that he’d made the wrong choice. “You coming?”

“I need to take a walk.” Stiles said, making his voice loud enough for the feet between them now. “Thanks for your help, Eli. Cora should hear what happened from me so I’ll call her. I’ll drop the phone off to you later in case you want to talk to her, too.”

He could feel Eli’s eyes on him as he walked away. Still, he needed to be alone and he didn’t want Eli to hear what he had to say to Cora.

Xx

Cora picked up before the first ring finished.

“Derek? What happened?” She said, immediately.

“Hey Cora, it’s Stiles,” He said so softly he worried she didn’t hear him. She didn’t respond. “I’m sorry, Cora.”

“What happened to him?” She whispered back

“He sacrificed himself to save everyone else. He did save everyone else.”

“Of course he did.”

“Cora, I know this isn’t the right time to be asking you for a favor, but I was hoping you might be able to help me. Deaton said Talia kept information on your family, Beacon Hills, and the nemeton. If any of it survived the fire, I need to know where it is now.”

“You don’t think he’s dead, do you?”

“I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up,” Stiles said, avoiding answering the question. The answer was simple though – no, he didn’t think Derek was dead. Not for good, anyway.

“We re-built the library. Before Derek came to live with me, we re-built it underneath our house. The door is under the wolfsbane. Everything that was left and everything that we’ve found since – it’s all there… Don’t tell Eli about this. It wouldn’t be fair to him,” She finished. Of course they’d built a secret bunker underneath the Hale house. Of course they would.

“I told him I’d give him this phone after we spoke. No matter what I find, he’s going to need you. Scott is a good leader when he needs to be, but he doesn’t believe in the pack like Derek did.”

“Give me a week,” Cora said and hung up.

Stiles looked up at the afternoon sky. It was going to start getting dark soon. If he headed towards the Hale House now, he could reach it before the sun went down, but he’d have to go home in the dark. He pocketed the phone and started walking. Walking through the woods, the sky darkening, headed to find a secret buried under wolfsbane on Hale land, he felt like he was 16 again.

[kelyon]

Courtship 14: Bridesmaids

Lacey tells her friends about the wedding

Read on AO3

Wednesday morning, Miss French opened Game of Thorns and worked the morning shift, accompanied by the sullen, silent presence of her father. At noon, she got ready for her weekly lunch with Janine and Mara. She decided to wear all new clothes today. The future Mrs. Gold had to look her best at all times. 

She started with a tight gray pencil skirt that went down to her knees. At Modern Fashions, she had managed to find thick socks that went up to her thighs but didn’t connect in the middle. That would keep her warm while still following Mr. Gold’s rule about having as little as possible covering her up. The socks were boring black, so she livened up the look with a pair of burgundy leather boots. Her top was a luscious maroon, almost see-through if she didn’t wear a camisole underneath. She had camisoles now, five of the same shirt in different colors. Once, that would have been an unthinkable luxury.

The only thing she didn’t have new was underwear. Modern Fashions had a limited selection of black and beige granny panties, and the bras were equally dumpy. Miss French deserved something more interesting than that. Well, Mr. Gold deserved something more interesting than that. She had been waiting for the right opportunity to visit Mara’s lingerie boutique. Maybe today, after lunch, after she picked up her birth control from the pharmacy. 

Leaning into her mirror to put makeup on, Miss French tried not to contemplate what being on birth control would mean for her. Of course she didn’t want kids now, so Mr. Gold was right to stop that process before it could start. But she had always thought that she’d have children someday. Some nebulous future after college and a career and a husband and a house. Of course, those blurry dreams always had Mom around, enjoying being a grandmother.

“Fuck!” She’d stabbed herself with her eyeliner pencil. Tears welled up in her eyes and she quickly blotted them with toilet paper. “Fucking cheap shit.”

She would get new makeup at the pharmacy. Mr. Gold had given her enough money for it. She’d buy out the whole department, get the most expensive brands in every color they had. 

Blinking and squinting, Miss French salvaged the rest of her eye makeup. Examining herself in the mirror, she looked good. She looked like Miss French, like the future Mrs. Gold. This was her first time showing off this side of herself to the big wide world. She’d better make a damn good impression.

****

This time, it was Mara who was first at Granny’s. When she saw Miss French from across the diner, she mimed a face of shock and awe. 

“You look so good!” she said. “What’s going on? Do you have a business meeting later? Are you pitching Game of Thorns to some venture capitalists in Boston?”

“No, nothing like that,” Miss French laughed. She took off her hat and new coat, but left her gloves on. “I do have good news, but I want to wait until Janine gets here before I say anything.”

They didn’t wait long. Janine burst in, her salon smock peeking out from underneath her parka. After a round of hugs, she slid in the booth next to Mara. 

“Hey strangers,” she said. “Sorry I’m late. The month started yesterday and I am booked.”

“Told you!” Mara said. “One week! That’s all it takes to flip your life upside down.”

Miss French laughed at that, a little too loudly. It was true! A week ago she had just finished her first date with Mr. Gold and now she was getting ready to marry him. 

“Hey.” She put her gloved hand flat on the table to get their attention. “You guys order whatever you want, okay? Full meals. It’s on me.” 

“Ooh, la di da!” Mara grinned. “Does this have to do with your good news?”

“You have good news?” Janine asked. “God knows we need more of that.”

“Let’s order first.” Miss French hid her coy smile behind her menu. 

When Ruby the waitress stopped by the table, Janine and Mara both looked at her for confirmation before they ordered. She nodded enthusiastically. 

“So,” Mara said when they were done. “Spill the beans. What the heck is going on?”

Miss French took a deep breath. Her heart was racing. She tried to pretend it was just excitement, that she didn’t have a shred of fear about telling her two best friends the best news of her life. 

Slowly, deliberately, she took off first her right glove, then her left. She held out her left hand for them to see her ring. It took them a second to put the pieces together.

“Oh my God,” Janine whispered. “Did you get married?”

“Not yet,” Miss French said. “This is sort of a combination, an engagement ring and a wedding ring at the same time.”

“Wha--” Mara kept shaking her head. “When? Who?”

“There’s a man that I’ve been dating for a while. I wasn’t sure what it was so I didn’t want to tell you guys, but then on Sunday he proposed.”

“Oh my God!” Janine squealed. “That’s amazing! But I can’t believe you didn’t tell us! You sneak!” 

“It all happened pretty fast,” Miss French admitted. 

“How fast?” Mara asked. “How long have you had a secret lover?”

Miss French giggled. “Not too fast. I know getting married is a big step, but I really think I’m ready for it. And of course I want you two to be my bridesmaids.”

“Oh, Lacey!” Janine’s smile filled up her face. “Of course! God, we used to dream about being in each other’s weddings!”

“Have you set a date yet?” Mara asked. “And who the heck is your husband?” 

“It’s actually coming up really fast,” Miss French said. “It’s gonna be on February twelfth, at Dodici’s.”

“Wait, the twelfth? Next Saturday?” Mara looked her up and down. “Are you pregnant?”

“No!”

“It’d be okay if you were. We’d support you.” That came from Janine, who was already supporting her mother and sister--and failing at it.

“I’m not!” Miss French repeated. “That’s not what’s going on.”

“Yeah, Uncle Moe isn’t really the shotgun type.”

“So why so fast?” Mara asked.

Miss French shrugged. “When you find someone you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

“Who is this guy?” Mara was almost shouting now. “You never talked this way when you were dating Hunter.”

“Yeah, and Hunter was a catch,” Janine said. “Cool, rich and gorgeous? You were so lucky.”

“He was alright,” Miss French shrugged. “But I’m doing a lot better than Hunter now.”

“A lot better with…?” 

Mara wouldn’t let this go. The fact that it was a perfectly reasonable question only made it more awkward that she didn’t want to answer. For just a few more minutes, she wanted to bask in her friends’ celebration. She wanted to stay in the fantasy that they would embrace and support her and the man she chose to marry. That they would have no reason not to. 

She got a break when Ruby came back with their lunches. The waitress set their orders down, made sure everything was correct, and went on her way.

“I’m serious, Lacey,” Mara said as she took a bite of her lobster roll. “If you don’t tell us who you’re marrying, I’m gonna drag you into the harbor by your nostrils and stick you under water until you do.”

Miss French smiled sheepishly, and added extra pickles to her burger. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to freak out.”

“Why would we freak out?” Janine cut into her lasagna. 

“Well, my dad freaked out when I told him. So did my uncle Manny.”

“Yeah, well they’re old farts,” Mara said. “We’re the hip, cool, new generation. And we’re your friends, so we’re on your side no matter what.”

“Really?” Lacey’s heart leapt to her throat..

“Yeah!” Mara said. Janine nodded her agreement. 

“Okay,” Miss French took a deep breath. “And just… understand that this isn’t as bad as you might think it is.”

“Why all these cautions?” Mara asked. “Did you sell your soul to Lucifer or something?”

“No,” she said softly. “No, it’s not like that. It’s… It’s Mr. Gold.”

There was a moment’s silence. 

Janine’s eyebrows furrowed. “What about Mr. Gold?”

“It’s him. He’s the man. I’m… going to marry him.”

Her friends’ expressions were exactly the same: Shock giving way to horror and sorrow. Janine set her fork down and looked at her lasagna like she had found a severed thumb inside it. Mara kept trying to say something and kept failing. 

“W-W-W-Why?” she finally managed. “Lacey, are you okay? Does he have something over you? You know you have options. You can go to Sheriff Graham. Do you need us to give you money?”

“You don’t have money,” Miss French said coolly. “And I told you, this isn’t a bad thing. I like Mr. Gold. I want to marry him.”

“You--you can’t,” Janine sounded like she was about to cry. “He’s so old. And he’s so horrible.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“You can only say that because you don’t owe him money.” 

“No, I owe him more than that,” she said. “He’s given me things you can’t even imagine. And I love it. I want more of it. I’m going to marry him and I want you guys to be there with me. Please.”

Mara set down her lobster roll. She seemed to have put together where all this newfound cash was coming from. 

“He’ll pay for your dresses!” Miss French tried. “And Janine, you can do my hair! Do one of those crazy updos you like to do? I’ll pay you for your time!”

“Lacey,” her cousin whispered. 

“Me being in this position will be a good thing for all of us,” she went on. “Mr. Gold throws money at me, I can pass it on! I can help you guys!”

“Oh my God, he pays you?” Disgust painted Mara’s face. “And you take it?”

“Yeah, I take everything he gives me,” Miss French snapped. “Take it any way he wants me to.”

“And you’re proud of this?” Mara shook her head. “Lacey, don’t you know what this makes you?”

“A whore,” Miss French said bluntly. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m marrying him, so I won’t be a whore anymore.”

“What will you be?” Mara went on. “You think people will call you any less of a golddigger just because you’re wearing a ring? Do you think he won’t know you’re bought and paid for? Lacey, he’ll use that as an excuse to do anything to you!”

“That’s what I’m hoping for!”

“I mean he’ll treat you like shit. This is a classic recipe for you being in danger.”

“I’m not in danger.” She rolled her eyes. “Mr. Gold isn’t a monster. He’s just a man who gets what he wants--and right now, he wants me! I think that’s great!”

Janine seemed to have shut down for a few minutes. When she finally looked up, her sky blue eyes were full of tears. “You’ll be a totally different person once you’re married to him. You’re already different.”

“Yeah, that’s the point,” Miss French said sharply. “I want to be different. I want to be better. Mr. Gold is my ticket to an actual life and not just scraping by to survive all the time. And I can find ways to take you with me! He told me he wants me to take care of you two. We can do this together!”

“Do you mean…?” Mara made a face. 

“No! No, of course not.”

“He’ll ask for something like that,” Janine said. “You know a man like that is probably some kind of pervert.”

“He’s the best kind of pervert,” Miss French told them proudly. “He’s the kind of pervert I’m into.” 

“Oh my God.” Janine covered her mouth with her hand. “How could you do this, Lacey?”

Defeated, Miss French slumped in her booth. “Why did I think you two would be different? Like, I understand my dad going apeshit because I’m having sex with a man he personally hates, but I thought you guys would get it.”

“He’s a bad man,” Janine whispered. “He’ll make you do bad things.”

She scoffed. “You sound like a child. That’s how Chloe would understand the world.”

“She’s not wrong,” Mara said. “I don’t think this relationship is good for you, and I know that being married to him will be worse. Worse for you, Lacey. He will hurt you!”

“That’s what I get off on,” Miss French said in a catty stage whisper. “I like the way Mr. Gold treats me. I want to be the person he thinks I can be.”

“Oh God!” Janine said again. She pushed herself away from the table and ran crying into the bathroom.

Mara gave her a withering look, then ran after her friend.

Miss French stayed where she was. She ate her burger, and waited for them to come back. They would come back. If nothing else, they wouldn’t waste a free lunch. 

Would they?

After waiting for half an hour, she tossed a fifty on the table and left. 

****

She stormed the short walk from Granny’s to Dark Star Pharmacy. Those fucking bitches. Those small-minded, puritanical idiots! Couldn’t they see what was right in front of them? Were they so blinded by hate and fear that anything to do with Mr. Gold automatically became unclean? Who were they to tell her what she could and couldn’t do? Who were they to judge her? Fucking virgins, so obsessed with being good they’d never get a chance be alive.

She ground her teeth.

It wasn’t fair. She wanted to be with Mr. Gold. He made her feel happy, he made her feel everything. Why couldn’t anyone in her life understand that? Why did gaining him mean she had to lose them?

Was it really too much to ask for both?

When she got to the pharmacy, she grabbed a basket and immediately started filling it with the most expensive things you could find in a drug store in Storybrooke. The brand-name organic lotion in all the offbeat scents? She got one of each. The salon-approved shampoo and conditioner for curly hair? Yes please! Shaving cream and razors, nail polish and face masks, she got all of it. Everything she’d ever thought was too indulgent to spend on herself. Everything she used to think she was a better person for not using. Lacey French hadn’t needed to fuss over her appearance, her brains would carry her everywhere.

But she wasn’t that girl anymore. Mrs. Gold would be a stupid slut and she’d have more luxuries than that delusional child could ever have dreamed of.

She rounded the corner and found herself in the magazine aisle. There was a girl, maybe twelve or so, with lank dark hair and owlish eyes that were too big for her face. She was staring at the magazines, at the models and celebrities with big boobs and perfect smiles. Her expression was something between rapture and starvation. 

Lacey recognized the feeling. The bone-deep hunger for the lives that you knew were fake but wanted to be real. It was frivolity and vanity, but it was also joy and glamour. To be the girl everyone looked at--or even just the girl who could fit in with the girls everyone looked at. To be wanted and idolized. To always wear the right clothes, say the right words, be the right person. To be pretty, effortlessly pretty. To sparkle and shine and feel like you can do anything.

And then to hate yourself for wanting something you’d never have. Something that no one ever really has. Even the models on the magazines don’t really live the life they’re selling. You’re smart enough to know it's a lie but you still hate yourself for not having it. You want to believe in the dream, want it so much more than anything in your real life. 

The girl looked at Miss French, head tilted, mouth open a little. The kid was dressed in loose jeans and dirty sneakers. Her top half was covered by an insulated hoodie big enough to belong to a grown man. She looked at Miss French in a form-fitting wool coat and burgundy boots. She looked at the styled hair, the makeup it had taken her half an hour to get right. 

Miss French caught the girl’s eye and winked. “It gets better,” she said. “You won’t be in middle school forever.”

Then she grabbed a copy of Vogue and a copy of Cosmopolitan and put them in her basket. It was getting heavy now, so she might as well check out. She went to the prescription pick-up counter and waited for Mr. Clark, the short little pharmacist who was always sneezing. 

“Hi!” she said when he came to the counter. It was easier now to be bright and chipper, to play the role of Mr. Gold’s fiancee. “I’m here to pick up a prescription.”

“Oh right.” Mr. Clark nodded, then turned his head to sneeze into his elbow. “Dr. Whale called me at home last night for this. He said the order came from Mr. Gold?”

“Mmm-hmm!” Miss French smiled. 

Mr. Clark gave her a puzzled look. “You’re Lacey French, right? From the flower shop? Why is Gold throwing his weight around to get you an express prescription?”

Her anger came back with a vengeance. She didn’t owe answers to a pharmacist. She was going to be Mrs. Gold. She didn’t owe anything to anyone. At that moment, something inside her turned sharp and hard and brittle. The hot lava of her rage solidified into an obsidian blade.

She smiled.

“Well you can see what the pills are, can’t you?” Her voice was cheerful and patronizing, like she was talking to a kindergartner she was trying not to murder. 

“Yeah.” The pharmacist was oblivious. He looked down at the label on the white paper bag. “It’s birth control.”

Miss French leaned over the counter to get in his snot-nosed face. “Why do you think Mr. Gold is buying me birth control? Hmm? I’ll give you a hint--it’s not so I can fuck anybody else!”

“Jesus,” he whispered. “Look, I’m sorry, I--” He turned away for another sneeze, then came back, wiping his nose. He stuck the used tissue in his pants pocket. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Yeah, well you did,” Miss French said. “So why don’t you just check me out and I can move on with my life?”

The pharmacist exhaled a long breath. After a quick moment to douse his hands with sanitizer, he began to ring up her stuff.

****

As she left the pharmacy, Miss French looked down the street towards Mr. Gold’s shop. Part of her wanted to run to him. She wanted to take refuge in the steady warmth of his presence. She wanted to unburden herself, tell him what a rotten day she was having, that she’d been betrayed and abandoned by people she’d known since she was born. Maybe he would listen to her, maybe he’d have good advice. Or maybe he’d just fuck her until those bitches didn’t matter anymore. Maybe he’d punish her for needing them so much in the first place.  

But he hadn’t asked her to visit him today, and she didn’t want to interrupt his work. She couldn’t go demanding his time and attention over every little thing that bothered her. Mr. Gold was a busy man, an important man. When he focused on her, it was because she was important. She couldn’t ask for that all the time. 

Besides, she was an adult. She could deal with stuff on her own, especially this petty shit. Mr. Gold had given her money and a shadow of his power. She wore his ring and soon she would have his name. What did it matter what lesser people thought of her? What did it matter that a pharmacist gawked? What did it matter that a hairdresser and a lingerie seller might never talk to her again?

She was going to be Mrs. Gold. She had better start acting like it.    

[raccoonsunratdust]

No Bones About It

Welcome to my newest passion project that I will most likely abandon immediately

a skeleharem isekai written by your favorite void uncle itself

Kini

enjoy~~

~|~

When a beam of light shot out from the ground of an isolated backyard, the residents all startled and rushed to see what could have caused this incident. Perhaps the machine had malfunctioned again? Maybe it was something else entirely. Whatever had happened, it caused a group of figures to start moving to the source of the explosion. 

Classic sat silently in the spare bedroom they had converted into a triage room for the injured, from the looks of it, human they had found in their backyard. He stared, unblinking, frustration lacing his magic and making him shake slightly. They had been laying there, unmoving, for the past three days. Some of the others had been getting worried, scared that the fall had killed them. He had to admit, when he saw them in the crater, their mangled body unresponsive, he was worried he’d have to fill in the hole as their final resting ground. But when Blue jumped in to check for a pulse, and actually found one, the chaos started.

His brother took the liberty of preparing the empty room for the injured human, it was getting hard to refer to them as anything else, and Blue started to load them up with healing magic. It was horrifying to listen to their bones crack back into place, those would not be healing fully anytime soon. Classic kept a calm facade and pulled out his phone to call Toriel, no use in freaking her out until she saw the damage herself. Dialing her number, he turned away from the carnage to watch the others. Not many were home, most were off working or doing whatever it was they liked to do in their spare time.

Toriel picked up on the second ring.

“Sans? Hello! It’s been so long since we talked, how have you been?”

“I’ve been good, Tori. Hey, I’ve got a huge favor to ask you��”

When Toriel showed up, the human had already been moved into, he hated the thought of this strange person having a claim in his new family’s home, their room. Upon seeing them, she immediately broke into motherhen mode. She administered first aid the magic couldn’t perform, bandaging them up and fashioning splints to keep their healing bones in place. After scolding them all for not telling her what had happened so she would be more prepared, she went home, leaving the boys to figure out what to do with the unconscious human in their guest room. 

That was three days ago. They had taken turns watching them, monitoring their healing and changing their bandages. It was difficult explaining the situation to the rest of their housemates, but they couldn’t just keep something like this a secret forever. The air was stagnant and heavy. When Toriel had visited that first day, she washed the human of the blood and dirt that covered them. She figured none of the residents were willing to, and she was right. The only skeletons willing to watch over the human were either too uncomfortable to undress them or simply didn’t care enough.

Sans nearly jumped out of his skin, heh, when a faint groan resonated across the room. He was on his feet instantly and at the bed before the human could make another sound. He watched their eyes struggle to crack open, crust lining their lashes, before releasing a strangled sigh. Their eyes shifted to the side, hoping to get a better sense of their surroundings. When they got to Sans’ hovering figure, they stopped, opened their mouth, and shouted the one thing he could have never expected.

“SANS UNDERTALE!?”

Shouted was a generous term, it was more like a pathetic croak, given their vocal cords hadn’t been used in who knows how long. At the exclamation, though, Sans took pause. Summoning a Gaster Blaster, he wasted no time intimidating the now awake human. At the sight of the ghastly creature in front of them, the human sat up, despite having atrophied slightly after days of bed rest. Having made a terrible decision, they immediately crumple in agony, tears pricking their eyes. Sans hesitated for a moment, realizing that this person wasn’t likely to be a threat at this point in time. 

There still stood the issue of them knowing his name. Relighting his blaster, he used blue magic to keep the weak human laying down. Putting on his practiced voice, Sans started to interrogate the injured human, “How do you know my name, who are you, where did you come from?”

The invisible weight of their soul being pressed against the bed made them panic, a merinthophobic fear of not being able to move their body. Taking a deep breath, they answered through a shaky voice, “My name is Y/N, and I’m not from this universe.”

They take his silence as an invitation to continue, “Look, all I know is one moment I was hiking on this mountain path, the next I was falling down this hole in the ground. I lost consciousness before I hit the ground, but I don’t know how far I fell. The hole was so deep…”

Sans sighed. They must have fallen down a version of Mount Ebott that linked their two worlds together. That would somewhat explain why they fell out of the sky and into his backyard, but it didn’t explain how it happened. Unsummoning his blaster, he focused his gaze back on the fallen human, “That still doesn’t explain how you know my name.”

At this, Y/N looked embarrassed, “In my word, you’re a videogame character. One I’m very fond of.” They take a second to think, “How did I get here, Sans? I can’t- I have friends and family at home, I can’t stay here. I need to go back home.”

Sans looked conflicted, he didn’t even know how they got here, let alone how to get them back to where they came from. They’d been trying to fix the machine and get everyone back home for months now. It would turn on randomly and link universes whenever it felt like, dragging anomalies into his world. Seeing his guilty face, the human started to cry. 

“I’m not going back, am I? I’m stuck here. You can’t fix the machine. God, why did this have to happen to me of all people? I thought I was a good person. Why did I have to be punished like this? I’m never going to see my family again.” Y/N continued to ramble, sobbing quietly to themself. At this point, Sans had removed the blue magic holding their soul down, letting them curl up painfully. He never thought he would feel bad for this human.

After the rift broke, Sans held a quiet resentment towards the human race. The trauma of the resets had broken his soul several times over, and now he had to take care of this random human that crash landed into his backyard? But, watching them cry, snot dripping out of their nose and their face red from strain, he couldn’t help but pity them.

The first judge had a choice to make. Should he kill the shaking human in front of him, their pathetic sobs chilling him to the bone, or should he show them mercy.

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

||An Officer's corruption part Eleven||

Hi all there today on this Saturday. Time for another one to be added to this now mini series. XD This is a small series me and @demon-blood-youths is doing so please understand this gets dark and mature. So just a heads up.

||Previous Chapters 1-7||((Click here))

Part Eight ((Slight NSFW warning))

Part Nine

Part Ten

((Your reading part Eleven))

||OVA Chapters|| ((My friend Demon mun is writing for the series))

OVA part one

OVA part two

||Drabble summary||

From planing and thinking, tonight would be the night the prisoners will try to get Melinda under their clutches and the other female guards too. However, their little plan might have a slight mess up. What will happen in this one? And it seems Jinx was going to check on her prison but it seems she ran into another issue. Wanna know what? Read to find out.

||Warning||

~Medium nsfw is present in this drabble ((Sexual theme is present))

~Friends with benefits is present in this

~Drug use is present in this drabble

~Flirting is present in this drabble

~Possessive behavior will be present

~Dom and sub behavior is present in this

||Guests in Drabble||

Kinie Ger, Jaron Jackal, Ahmed, Fin Reer, and Van Ink belongs to my amazing Rp partner @demon-blood-youths Also Kisho belongs to her but is from the side blog @chunibyo-x-sorcerer

Jinx violet, Melinda brooks, Summer, and Winter are OCs that belong to me and the same for Sukuna Ryomen, Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro comes from Jujutsu Kaisen but also me due to having him as a muse.

((Note: Their will be grammar mistakes and errors in this drabble as others have this warning. But like I state before, this is written for fun. So I hope you like it and my friend too. Enjoy))

A few hours were gone by but Sukuna was gone after it started to heavily rain seeing the clouds forming. Warden Kinie was silent looking from the window but her golden eyes were glowing as she looks quiet hearing some thunder.

"........"

~~~~Flashback/Two hours ago~~~~~

'What are you implying here? You wish to-'

"As I said; I wish to know more about you Kinie. So how about a simple..meet up at my main office you and me. I really would love to know more about you. Even with us speaking to business. So, here is my deal. After you see what I'm willing to offer, you can get to know me better and I'll help you with whatever you ask. Anything at all." He was holding her hand again but she looks quiet then down.

What is his deal? Kinie wasn't sure how to feel about this given the fact she was one of the toughest wardens here in New York. However, this man..he had more power around his little finger and it was terrifying. But she wouldn't let him know that!

"..I said I would think about it remember? I don't....I still need time to think of a answer."

"I know you do..but take all the time you need. I can be of some help to you my princess. I mean, after all.." He then did something she was not expecting. He pulls her close against his strong form, making her tense as he feels her hand held so delicately while touching her cheek.

"I know that I'm willing to help someone as beautiful as you." he said with his red eyes looking down at her. He was way too close but she only looks away from his gaze that Sukuna smiled. Still cute. In a moment, he gently lets go but looks still holding her hand.

"I hope to hear from you again, Miss Warden but don't take too long..I tend to be.....curious of your choice. And I Hope to hear about more of my baby brother's release sooner than I hoped....." he said getting ready to leave but in that moment, he kissed her cheek making her quickly hold it. He smiled to her then turns to leave the office and a speechless Kinie.

"......."

~~~~~~~~~End of Flashback~~~~~~~~~

Kinie said nothing but she only grits her teeth growling deeply to herself. Damn it. She will not show weakness even to a man like that. Though, she was curious to what he means by what he said. Even so, she only sighed to cover her face for a moment while wondering. What will she do now?

~~~~~~Meanwhile with Jinx & Ink~~~~~~~~

They were taking a slight break but Ink was happily eating some food that luckily had pizza bites here! She was smiling chewing on one she enjoyed with Jinx eating some calazone for herself.

"Hey Ink?" she sees her swallow the pizza bite to look at her.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Have you heard anything from Kali? She's been gone for a while now." she mutters thinking about where she is. However, Ink thinks a bit then shrugs.

"I don't know. I think she might be doing something really important right now so she isn't here with us. But, I'm hoping she is alright. Knowing her.." she smiled eating another pizza bite. Of course Jinx thinks about that but she also was checking her phone seeing that her other officers; Melinda, Vivi, Breezy, Mouse, Echo, and Ping were alright. Each still busy from their group chat messages. She smiled knowing her friends and officer sisters were good.

"Oh well, I'm sure she will be fine and what about the six claws? Are they behaving themselves?" she asked.

"Huh? They are but they are all pretty funny though. Even though six of them have done bad things..they seem like good guys somehow. I don't know, it's just a feeling in a way." she laughed rubbing the back of her head that Jinx blinks to laugh.

"True but knowing that I bet it's true. Even if some of these prisoners are evil and cold, not all of them are...bad. Though, it's hard to find which one is which.." she said thinking about Yuji again but when she did her cheeks flushed pink that Ink noticed.

"Uhhh you okay Jinx? Your face is red-"

"Ah! I'm fine! Sorry just thinking about something silly." she said waving her hand laughing that Ink tilts her head to blink. "Though, have you heard from your officers too?"

"I have. I already talked to Rust but he sounded busy. Hellmare is working with getting one prisoner to turn his ways back. It was said he was in a gang where the head leader is the baby sister of that other guy." Ink said thinking.

"Hold on, baby sister?" Jinx asked seeing Ink nod.

"Uhhhh what else? Oh! I heard Maggie was watching a wild ice fire user prisoner but he's pretty tough. She and him already got into some fights so far but she is tough to take him on. Fosh is alright working with officer mouse uhhh.....I heard Gerald and Taz were still in the study board and helping two new young officers. Ping and Timmy were their names......." Ink was thinking.

"Navarro is working with another special bomber I think that's on your time Echo right? He and her are working the bomb squad together and their doing well. OF course Jaron is alright working with Melinda from what he told me though he sounded worried about something." Ink said.

"Then Ophelia is working with another doctor named Hex I believe his name was but he seems to be a bit silent for one. He might be a bit nervous working around officers but she is getting close and hoping he is with her too.

"Hmmmm seems their all busy. Oh! But what about Shdwkyz? Have you heard from him?"

"As for him..No. I have tried to call him but his phone goes to voice mail. He's always busy even so but I understand. I heard the one he's watching over is also going through some investigation..."

"Geez..they all are busy alright. Well, hopefully they are all doing alright though Ink." she said smiling but Ink smiled knowing her fellow officers were alright. However, as the two were eating, they look seeing the heavy rain geez, it's coming down like crazy.

"Seems we might be in if this keeps up to tomorrow."

"Yeah...though, the rain is nice.." Jinx said with a hum seeing Ink smiling to nod. However, their break was over. Seems it was time to head back to work.

"I'll see you later Ink and be careful ya hear." Jinx smiled as Ink grins doing a fistbump with her as the two leave to head to their locations.

~~~With Jinx~~~

She was walking down the hallway thinking to herself but hearing the heavy downpours along with the storm passing by. "Wow, they were not kidding when they said it was going to be heavy rain today..guess this means it will go into tonight. Seems it will be loud during dinner." she sighed to keep walking. However, as she did, she looks seeing she's near Itadori's cell.

"........" She remains quiet thinking about it but looks away shaking her head. 'No no, your fine Jinx. Just keep moving along. I need to get to my location regarding keeping a eye on him. Or was he still doing his daily workout near the Gym? No, he as the other inmates are back in their cells till dinner comes around......so what is....' she thought as she was able to take a step.

A slight noise was heard making her stop. Her eyes widen hearing that and looks to the area where the cell was. She wonders if she was hearing things. Maybe she was. She turns to walk but the next noise was a weak moan this time to her eyes widen.

'Ohhhh no..no no not again...just ignore it Jinx..I need to....but what if something is wrong?' she thought hearing the really soft moans now coming out but they seem to be muffled? Biting her cheek, she goes to check it out. 'I'll just take a slight look see. It couldn't be that.....right?'

In a while, she gets to the same area again but Jinx made sure she was careful. She could just go and check on them just a quick look. 'You can do this. Just look and that's it......I need to be sure to show I'm-' as she was about to, the sound was more clear hearing a whimpering moan that made her quiet to press up against where she was before that night.

"Easy Kisho...don't struggle so much. You might end up getting hurting your wrists if you keep moving.." A familiar voice. Wasn't that Fushiguro? She heard nothing from him but heard another voice.

"Damn, you really got him tied up Megumi. I thought you said you were not into this sort of thing.."

"It's trying new things Itadori. Besides, he don't seem to mind it given the fact he's being punished again."

She blinks confused hearing this but given her better judgement, she goes to take a peak. Right away, her red eyes widen seeing what she did. Itadori and Megumi were there but Kisho too. However, he seems to be tied up using some of the sheets in their cell. He was sitting up against the wall with something covering his eyes and mouth a gag maybe? He was twitching and shaking with his head down but the sound of buzzing is heard.

'Hold on..what the fuck?! what are they doing to him!' she thought but saw some things were inside of him. It twitched quivering as he was shaking and whimpering through the gag they got him in.

"Mfffnnnnnn!! Mmmm!! Mmmmfffnnmmmm!!!" He was struggling from the binds Megumi put him in but he only looks holding the collar while he was near him.

"What's wrong? Feels good? You seem to be squirming there Kisho.." He said this into his ear but he lowers one hand to brush against the hole that he tenses up crying behind the gag.

"Mffnnn!!!"

"Hmmm, that's not a clear answer. Though...you seem to like it." He speaks against his neck but Yuji was looking at his cell phone while relaxing. However, he gets the feeling someone was watching that he only smirked.

"Or maybe we need to increase the vibrations.." he said seeing Megumi look till he held up a main remove and turns the dial. The vibrations got stronger that made Kisho throw his head back screaming behind his gag.

"MMMMMMMM!!!!!!! MMMMMMMM!!!!!!!" Right away, Kisho accidentally came again right on both Megumi and a bit on Yuji. The two blink seeing this but looks to him as Kisho falls back, panting through his nose deeply with tears running down his cheeks. Drool was even seeping past the gag that Yuji whistled.

"That was a big one.....I think we might have made him too sensitive."

"Maybe but he knows what I warned him. He was being punished because of today..and I'm sticking to it. Though, seeing him like this is still arousing..I think he'll sing nicely.." he said already hard.

"I figure but remember, he can't be too loud..you can do that later tonight after everyone is sent to bed Megumi.."

"Fine fine.." he grumbled but looks to him. "Hey Kisho, you still with us..." he asked but he pulls him close but he saw he was shaking still feeling the hard vibrations. He was squirming in pleasure not able to think that Yuji smiled.

"Hey Megumi, how about we ask him? Remove the gag for a second." Jinx blinks hearing this from her hiding spot, hearing some shuffling but heard heavy panting with weak moans now coming out.

"Ahhh~ Naahhh nuggnnnnn!!!" Kisho was shaking looking like he really was out of it. Even if he came twice, his body was aching and throbbing.

"Haaa...haaaaa...n..no....ah!! N..no more..No more p..pleasure please..I..I said I was..s..s..sorry.....mmmm..." He was twitching claming down on the vibrators inside of him. They were just going nuts and he's having trouble focusing right now.

"Ah ah ah remember what I said Kisho? You are being punished for today remember?...and it seems like a fun idea don't you think?" He gets near him that Kisho backs up shaking but he feels his chin grabbed to be pulled up.

"B..b...but it..eeeiiii!" He feels him pushing fingers into him now messing with his hole again. He shudders biting down on his bottom lip with Megumi kissing his neck.

"But what? Your not fighting back..so maybe you don't mind. You seem to Love the punishments I give you...naughty little phoenix.." he growls seeing Kisho shaking again.

"P..Pl...ease..please s..spare me...I.....Mfffnn!" He got kissed by him to keep him silent but Yuji saw this only to look at the door. Jinx was silent in hiding but her face was red again. Not again! She just took care of it but she was shaking where she stood hearing this.

'I have t..to stop this..I have to tell Warden Kinie b..but...why won't my legs move? I can't move..' she thought looking down hearing the moans from Kisho.

Yuji decided to smile having a idea even with the thunder outside. "Hey, let me have a go again..I think he really needs to be punished Megumi." He blinks to hear but Kisho's eyes widen. Again!?

"Hmmmm...fine...though knowing you, you'll end up maybe breaking him." he said but he carefully lets him go that Yuji pulls him against his chest looking down at him. Now Kisho was shaking with Megumi behind him to grab the vibrators.

"Y..Yuji?"

"It's alright....besides, I can give you something else. Think of it as another mini lesson...." he said before Megumi pulls them out hearing a yelp from Kisho that moans out loudly by mistake before Yuji covers his mouth.

"Mfffmm!?"

"Shhhhhhh....naughty phoenix. You'll make too much noise......." he chuckled but makes him lay down right on his back looking down at him. Even if Kisho was shaking, twitching and already aching he was too weak to move.

"Y..Yuji..w..wait please..I...I don't know if I'll st..stay sane if you d..do it again."

"Hmmm but that's the point. Since you wanna misbehave and keep getting in trouble...maybe we need to keep showing you that it's not good to be bad like that." he said to shift his position. He could see Kisho's half lidded eyes looking up at him shaking but he knew Megumi was watching seeing what he will do. He already lowers his own pants down showing himself off that Kisho was shaking worse.

"And since you came so much..you'll really be moaning just like a girl being so sensitive...." he teased.

"I..Itadori..I....wait a s...second I'm.." Before he could, he tenses feeling something hot slam into him that he arches his back crying out with eyes wide but they were hidden with the brown bangs that his lips were parted drooling as he quickly tightens around him. Yuji twitched feeling the hotter heat again that he chuckled to look at him.

"What was that? Seems you almost came from that. And the moan was blocked off thanks to the thunder. It's always hot to do it even during a storm..." he said keeping him down before pulling his hips back then thrusts down into him hearing weak moans from Kisho again.

"Ahhhhh....ahhhhhh.......hhaaaaa...N..No no..n.not a..a..ahhhhhhh...a...again..not a..again..mmmmmmm...."

"Not again? But your liking it...your already sucking me in so nicely...that means you must really want it." he said but Kisho was already in a daze gripping the sheets as Itadori was thrusting into him.

"I..I never said I..nuggghhhh!! Ahhhhh....ahhhhhhh......Ohhhh f..fuck....f..fu..mmmmmm!!"

"Don't lie to me Kisho..your tightening around me..and moaning out even if I'm not going hard..your already losing it. Besides, it feels good..don't it?" he said seeing him shaking but not answer. Growling, Yuji keeps looking down at him before quickening his hips.

"Answer me Kisho. Does it feel good?"

"Ahhhhhhh!!!! Y...Yes s..sir! F..fuck it f..feels good! It feels s..so good..I can f...feel it so d....deep..it's really deep!" he moans twitching as he was keeping his head back into the pillow while thrusting hard into him.

"mmmm good boy...even if you say you want to stop..your already submitting to me." he teased still slamming into him that Kisho was crying out still crying in pleasure shaking. Megumi was watching even if he was excited himself but he got hard already wanting a turn but he will wait. That and he'll have time to play with him tonight.

In the hall, Jinx was shocked hearing the moans but the storm was cutting out Kisho's moans with the rain. Though, he sounded so lost from this. These guys were just punishing him like nothing. She should do something but..she couldn't move. She couldn't speak thinking how Itadori would have dominated her if he wanted to!

"......"

However, she hears more moans and crying out as Kisho was moaning.

"Y..Yuji w..wait wait wait!" He struggles but he was shaking trying to clear his thoughts.

N..Not t..this position...N..Not this oooohhhhh!!!" He was shaking feeling Yuji's hands on his thighs holding them down as he thrusts now rougher into him. He was panting still punishing him but he only closed his eyes ripping the sheets due to the roughness.

"Ohhhhhh D...deep! T..too deep!!" he moans twitching that his tongue was out slightly while looking dazed out in pleasure.

"Damn Itadori.."

"Sorry, seeing him like this sorta got me wanna break him...though if you broke him it would be fun. I see that Miko will have fun breaking him herself if she wanted to." he teased seeing Kisho twitching but he only leans down to kiss him as he muffled the moans and yet he didn't stop.

When he breaks the kiss, he sees Kisho twitching again with his cries being worse. "Though, you would love that..wouldn't you?" he said against his neck but Kisho couldn't help it that his hands were about to move but Megumi held them down.

"Ahhhhhhh!!! ahhhhh!!!!...f..fuck m..me...fuck me!! Fuck fuck fuck fuck-FUCK!!" He moans wrapping his legs around Itadori's waist.

"Haaaaa so greedy....what do you want now Kisho?" Yuji teased but he looks at him showing a primal expression like his own eyes were glowing.

"Ohhhhh m..more..f.fuck m..me more! Please I w..wanna c..cum! Let me cum!" he begs but Megumi looks to him as he was still being rammed into.

"What was that?" Itadori said snapping his hips forward to stop seeing Kisho shaking as he was panting.

"P..Please......"

"Please..what Kisho?" he said in a low tone but he gulps shaking tightening more around him. Damn that voice was already hitting him.

"...P..Please f..fuck me more...b..break me please......" Hearing this, Yuji smiled to hold his hips pulling him.

"Grrrrr..fine.....I'll break you. I'll break you over and over till you cum non stop." he said now jackhammering into him that he screams looking dazed again.

"AHHHH Y..YESSSS YES PLEASE HARDER! I WANT IT HARDER!!" he begs but Megumi was kissing him to hush him but he only kisses back with Yuji still punishing him. He seriously was a mess but he didn't mind. He tries to stay sane even if his body was throbbing all over. Yuji was a beast in bed but he feels the kiss break panting out moaning that his eyes were hidden.

"Y..Yuji..Yuji....hhaaaa Y..Yuji!!!!!!"

"That's it..just savor it Kisho..let it all come out...." he teased thrusting into him. "That way, you'll feel even better won't you?" he said against his neck but he latches onto it kissing him there but he won't bite him.

"Y..Yes sir..oh god y..yes sir!!" he moans out of it but he felt something burning in his stomach as he throbs like he was going to cum.

"Hmm? He's close...did you wanna cum Kisho?" he asked but he only nods to squirm.

"Y...yes..s..so close! I'm close!" he begs but Yuji smiled still quickening his hips. "Y..Yes right there! I..I wanna cum..I wanna cum......." He only laughed that he suddenly uses his strength to lift him up and hold him in his arms now ramming up as Kisho screams holding onto him. He looks up at the ceiling clawing his back feeling the monster thrusts.

"Then go ahead and cum Kisho..let it out. We wanna see you cum." he growls that Kisho was shaking.

"I...I'm c...cumming..I'm cumming..I..I'm gonna!" as he threw his head back screaming he came violently on himself and Itadori's chest as he clams around him only to cum inside hard. He panted holding his hips down making sure he took every drop as the two were heavily panting sweaty.

Megumi was impressed but he only sees Kisho twitching feeling some of the hot cum dripping out even if he was shaking.

"I think I broke him a bit..but..at least he'll be more fun later tonight for you." he teased Megumi who rolls his eyes to look. However, while holding Kisho his eyes looks to the door and wonders if his guest liked the second show.

In the hallway, jinx was gone but their was a slight puddle there where she stood.

~~~~~~~~Meanwhile at Fin's prison~~~~~~~~~~

Fin was speaking with Winter again to check on her but it seems she was just as quiet as usual. She's been doing something but with the tempting towards him, it was getting harder not to be mad at her.

"For the last time, will you please stop? I only came to check on you and here you are trying to-"

"I said I wasn't doing anything warden..I'm behaving as you said...besides, you keep checking on me meaning you must care hmm?" she giggled that Fin sighed. Yeah, she was just as worse as the other.

"......"

"Or are you here for another reason? Finally give into your urges to have a-"

"No! Look just....I'm here to give you your food for dinner..I'm asking that you stay at the wall and wait till I leave to get it." he said but Winter smiled unsure about that. However, she held her hands up to show she might 'behave'. Seeing this, he goes to unlock the cell and opens it. He walks in with the tray but goes to look at her who looks back.

Both her Cobalt ice blue eyes meets with his cold blue eyes. A lycan and a fallen maiden demon. Almost like a werewolf against a vampire. Ready to rip at each other's throats due to their blood aggravating one another. They said nothing looking to one another but he only looks away trying not to do anything. He sets her food down showing it was just made but he only turns to leave her cell. However, as he did he felt something only to quickly turn showing a ice hatchets that blocks a ice daggers.

"!?" What the fuck was she doing!? "The hell are you-" He feels her ram him against the cell door but she only looks to him as their eyes glow to one another.

"You really are strong..how fun. You really are a strong one~" she purrs to look right at him. Gritting he shoves her back as she rolls on the ground quickly rebounding to see him trying to get out. However, she trips him as he slams against the wall of her prison making him wince. However, he hears something stab into the wall trapping him by the collar of his uniform sleeves. She was sitting on top of his lap looking down at him.

"The hell!? Get off of me!"

"Now now..I won't kill you..your way too much fun to. Besides..I only wanted to say sorry." she pouts in a kid like voice that he glares at her.

"How the hell is this saying sorry! Get the hell off of me!"

"Hmmmm...I will. Though..I would love to give you something in case you wanna play again.." she said.

"The hell are you saying? As the warden I order you to get off of-" However, his words were stopped by her. His eyes widen to feel her soft lips against his own. She kissed him while gripping his uniform. He closed his eyes and closed his hands into fists but he also tasted something like copper that made had her break the kiss. She panted to smile, licking her lips showing she bit him.

"Not bad your one cute kisser." she teased but he only growls to shove her off but gets free from the daggers. He leaves the cell relocking it and leaves quickly. Winter sits there looking at him but she only looks to her fingers then touches her bottom lip. She still tasted some of his blood licking her lip clean slowly.

"Oh my warden..you really are going to be fun to tease..." she giggled. Meanwhile, as Ahmed was heading back from giving Summer her dinner, he spots Fin who was rushing off.

"Fin? Hey! Where are you going?" he asked.

"Just to the office! I just....I need to sit down."

"But we-hold on, are you okay? What happened to your uniform?!" he asked seeing it but Fin said nothing to sigh covering his face.

"It's nothing I......" as he turns to tell him that, he stops noticing that Ahmed was holding his neck. Was he hurt? "Hold on, are you-"

"....Lets just say Summer is a biter.." he said in a cold tone but the two knew they were getting worse. This might be a problem.

~~~~~~Later at dinnertime~~~~~

Finally, the plan was set. Seeing that all the prisoners were eating now. All officers were standing guard or some being on break. Right now, Melinda was sitting with Jaron eating some food while hearing other officers talking about today. It was crazy given the close riot happening but lucky it didn't.

"I'm telling you guys it's true! I think we might need to rethink of a new plan here." one officer said but Jaron blinks to look.

"Maybe but we could always try another way." he said pointing his fork at the other who thinks.

"Well, I think how you persway others works really well. You were able to stop so many random fights thanks to it, officer Jackal." a male officer said but Jaron smiled.

"I don't got a mind for violence but I try to use that more than the violent way." he said as Melinda laughs to agree.

"Knowing you Jaron you always had a good heart. Though, violent never fixes anything even when one tries to cause it. That's why I'm glad to know that you always have that caring side about you." she said that Jaron scratches his cheek blushing a bit.

"Thanks Melinda." he said.

While they were eating, the few prisoners that was able to hide the drug was happily waiting for the plan to work. They said their would be a special desert for everyone but they were seeing the officers talking.

"Are you sure the chef in that kitchen put the drug in her food? It's not working."

"Trust me, it takes a bit to kick in but I made sure he got enough to do it. We just need to wait." he said eating some food as the other prisoners were curious. Would the drugs work? So far, everyone was talking or eating more as the time passes......until Melinda felt off for some reason.

"Hmm?" she held her head but she was confused.

"Hey, you okay?" Jaron asked.

"Yeah..I'm okay. Just a slight headache.." she said smiling to him but he blinks wondering that.

"Huh? But you were fine just now. Did you need one of us to take you to the infirmary?" Haliee said worried.

"No no, I'm fine. I'm sure it will go away on it's own. That and the fact I never eaten breakfast due to the roll call." she said smiling. However, Haliee and Jaron was worried knowing if she was alright she would be. So they left it alone. As Dinner kept going, the headache got worse, that Melinda stops eating to hold her head but now she felt like something was wrong.

"........." Somehow, she felt hot and she didn't know why to make her rest her head against Jaron's shoulder.

"Hmm? Melinda? What's the matter? Are you alright?" he asked worried.

"...I.....I said I'm fine. I just..my headache went away but I...don't feel.." she mutters but he noticed she looked flushed that made the other officers worry. The prisoner that had the drug put in her food smiled. Seems like it worked.

"Heh, time to go gentlemen...do it." he said as one nods before another begins to signal two others. One quickly goes to see the generator of power for the cafeteria before the light went out!

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED!"

"IT'S A BLACKOUT!"

Right away, prisoners got up now shouting to start fighting the officers while some others were causing confusion. However, Jaron was looking about with Haliee getting up trying to stop them. Though, that's when a few prisoners quickly attack with one grabbing Melinda who struggles trying to push them away but he picks her up over his shoulder rushing out.

"MELINDA!!" two officers shouted but Jaron noticed.

"HEY, PUT HER DOWN!" he said giving chase but he got through now following after the prisoner that took her. Everywhere was a black out even with two officers trying to get the generator back up. Jaron runs following the prisoner before he sees him make a left turn. Though, in a way, as he did, he looks to see the two were gone.

"Melinda!?...Melinda!!!...Damn it! Where did he go!" he hissed but that's when one shows up behind him and suddenly hits him hard behind the head to knock him out. He passed out before being taken as well.

~~~~~~~Somewhere else~~~~~~

Something splashes against Jaron waking him up with a gasp coughing slightly. He winces from the headache he got and a stinging throbbing pain. With a groan he opens his eyes to blink but his vision was fuzzy. "...What...where.." he looks to move but he couldn't feeling his wrists tied up.

"Well, good to see you can join us.." he looks up quickly hearing a voice but stops seeing who. A prisoner was there but he was smiling. However, that's not what got him worried. He saw another officer but she had her wrists tied up, sitting in the corner but her head was tilted to the side while softly breathing like she was ill. Whatever was going on, something happened that Jaron looks worried to see the prisoner look at him.

"Lets have a little...chat, officer Jackal."

[project-v175]

Out on a Limb

Brutal fighting. That's what the wizarding world had succumbed to. Violence. All her life, she had only known the peace of magic. That changed when she became an apprentice at the ministry. She wanted to be an auror. She wanted to restore peace. He who shall not be named had ruined everything for her, and it needed to be set right. Nothing felt normal for her.. not until him.

__

Chapter 9: The Moon and Stars

The next few days played on like a record on repeat. Wake up, shower, dress, get ready for the day, meet Alastor, learn whatever trick he wanted to show her, and then hone it until she could barely think. Each and every flaw was pressed out of her. Until her clothes were muddy, her hair was matted, and she was covered in sweat. Venus nearly grew to resent the man until she saw her own progress.

Venus watched her aim become deadly. The spoken soells became so instinctual that she no longer needed to speak them. They would fire from her wand in chains of commands. She learned how to take down various Protego sheilds, nearly sending Alastor up in flames on numerous occasions. As she did, his teachings became less tense and more compassionate. His hands guided her wand through the motions over her shoulder. Those moments were bliss. Venus would look up at the man, a wode skile spreading over her too soft feature. Alastor would respond with a smile of his own. They never lasted long. Alastor quickly reminded himself of her place. His apprentice. His student. He was her teacher. These were nothing more than the admirations of a student.

Today was different. Venus had been given the day to rest and catch up on her house remodeling. It had come along quite well. The kitchen was finished, and the living room had received its last coat of paint. The house was finally suitable for visitors. Real ones. Visitors that didn't consist of her sister, Molly, or her gaggle of children. Venus pulled away all the sheets and dusted all the surfaces. Her vacuum ran for the first time in months. By the time she was finished, the place was spotless.

Her hard work had paid off. She decided to spend it lying on a picnic blanket by the water. She took her books, those both for enjoyment and learning, and began reading late into the afternoon. She sat for hours, enjoying small snacks and a glass of wine. Just as the sun set over the horizon, a soft crunch was heard behind her. She stood up. Her wand slid from its hiding place in her sleep to her hand. Venus took a few steps forward. All was silent around her. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and listening to the world around her. Another crunch to her left. She glanced in that direct, firing out the summoning charm.

At first, a large stick like figure flew to her hands. She examined it, only to realize who it belonged to. Her eyes squinted in the darkness.

"Alastor.. were you.. watching me..?"

Alastor appeared from behind a glimmer. He hobbled forward, nearly falling before he took his staff back. "Hmph." He turned away from Venus. His magic eye glanced over her figure. "No. Why are you wearing a dress? Are you expecting someone?"

Venus looked down at her attire. She had put on a black cocktail dress in case she wanted to hop in the water, but she couldn't tell Alastor that. Especially when she had nothing on beneath it. "Ahm.. I wanted to feel pretty while I relaxed."

"Are ya expecting anyone?" Alastor turned back to Venus after looking around. He leaned down over her.

Venus smirked to herself. This was the perfect opportunity to throw him off. Purely because she wanted the amusement. "No one.. in particular.."

"What do ya mean? Is someone comin?" Alastor stood again and began to look around. He nearly missed Venus as she disappeared to the lake side.

"Well, you came. Did you not?" Venus sat back down on her blanket. She stared out over the water at the stars again. She crossed her legs and pulled her dress down.

Alastor hobbled forward. His eyebrows knitted in frustration as his lips pushed out in a frown. He stood for a moment, only sitting when Venus patted the blanket beside her. The two were silent. Only the fluttering water said anything.

"What are you doing out here?" Alastor turned towards Venus. Her voice was softer than when they were training. "I could ask the same of you."

"Me? I live out here. About a ten minute walk. It's peaceful. Enjoyable. Just how i like it. Next year, I'll get to start a farm. It's much too late to start one now." Venus glanced over at Alastor. His frown softened under the starlight. She could have sworn she saw his lips twitch in a smile.

"Mmh. Its.. its is nice. Theres a perfect view here.." Alastor looked over at Venus.

"Now.. answer my question. Why are you out here?" She pressed further, her soft eyes becoming stern.

"Testing you. Arthur said you had made a habit of coming here. I... didn't realize you lived out here. You did well. Betger than I expected ya to." Venus lofted her eyebrows in concern. Testing her? For what? He may be her mentor, but that didn't mean he got to stalk her around.

"Testing me? What? To see if i would notice? Creepy old man.." Venus turned away from Alastor with a scoff. She shifted away, now conscious of how close he had gotten to her. She could feel the heat from his body against the cool air. The longer the sun stayed hidden, the colder she felt. What she wouldn't give to dive into the water and hide from the frosty air.

"Somethin like that. I'm not that old, y'know. I'm closer to your age than you think." Alastor leaned over to Venus. A playful tone lacing his voice. It was odd to her. His normal tone was mean and rough. This was.. soft, but still as deep. It sent a tingle up her spine. A feeling she wasn't familiar with, despite her ten years learning how humans function.

"Sure, sure." Venus cleared her mind with a sigh. She rolled her eyes towards Alastor, now leaning back on her arms. "Then how old are you really?"

"I mean it. I'm only thirty-five. Not forty. " Alastor smirked as he watched the embarrassment rise to Venus's face.

"How- who told you? Was it Arthur? I swear! Those two are such trouble." Venus flopped back onto the blanket. Her arms sprawled out behind her, cradling her hair.

"Hmph." Alastor snorted out his response. "It's late, you know. You should be going home. Tomorrow, we work on stealth." Alastor pushed himself up and onto the support of his staff. He watched Venus from above. Just before he walked away, he leaned over and whispered. "I was testing your sixth sense."

Venus laid confused for a moment. She sat up in just enough time to watch Alastor disappear into a puff of gray smoke among the forming fog. She groaned at the newfound loneliness. Walking in that fog with all her belongings in hand was going to be a pain in the arse.

__

Author Note

This chapter ran away from me. I planned for one direction and a WHOLE SCENE sat before me. So angry with it.

[consumeronionbulletin]

Doona! / Lee Doo-na! (2023)

The silent, hangry, chain-smoking, giving-no-f-ks version of Bae Suzy that I didn't know I needed.

This series felt like a lighter version of Something in the Rain with a much better soundtrack, which is how I found myself spending most of my weekend watching it.

The show is an extremely no plot, just vibes, slice of life type of thing. I liked that, but I know it'll be slow going for some people. I haven't read the webtoon this is (allegedly) based on, but I can already tell writers for the show took more than a few liberties with the material.

What Worked

Bae Suzy's performance as a sad, jaded, burned out, misunderstood idol worked. This feels like something Hollywood has already done to death. Kind of a cable TV version of a pop star (male or female) who's slumming it with ordinary people and ends up finding their voice again. Along with true love.

The reason why this never felt cliche is because Suzy made you believe in it, and because the directors and cinematographers were so good at their job that you just had to believe in it too. I was willing to suspend disbelief, because I wanted to just live in the moment with them in that beautiful fantasy.

What Didn't Work

Look, Yang Se-jong had great chemistry with Suzy, and with most of the cast, but it is a complete fantasy that an ordinary, decent, hardworking guy would have that many women chasing after him. It works in a webtoon because you know what kind of story you're in for. It kind of worked here, but there were moments when I had to just actively accept the premise and move on with it. It was okay since there were only 9 episodes, but if we'd had 20, I think it would have been too much.

The Performances

Bae Suzy as "smoking idol" Lee Doo-na. Whatever they paid Suzy, it wasn't enough. She was willing to put her dignity on the line to get a good performance. There are like three other idol / actors that maybe could have made this script work, and I still think she would have beaten them out if they had open casting. I know there are people who loved her in Start-up, but this is the performance from Suzy that I'll remember most.

Yang Se-jong as "Gary Stu" Lee Won-jun. I really want to read the webtoon just to figure out how many liberties the TV show took with this character. I liked this actor in Still 17, and I enjoyed his performance here. I liked how this was (in some ways) a gender-flipped version of the sweet caretaker love interest girlfriend that you'll find in so many other forms of media. I just had trouble believing that guy could grab as much attention as he did in the real world.

Shin Ha-young as "Fake High School Girlfriend" Kim Jin-joo. The actor did a good job with what she was given, and I liked the fact that she's the same age as the two leads, but the character was just not given enough to do in the story. In a longer drama (with maybe a different actress like Roh Yoon-seo) they would have made her a viable option for Won-jun. As it is, we spent 1/3 of her time dealing with her backstory (which was mostly just to make Won-jun look good), and 1/3 of it having her pine after Won-jun and ultimately get dumped. It just felt like a waste.

Park Se-wan as "Fake Grade School Girlfriend" Choi I-ra. The actor was entertaining as heck in this show. I liked her love-line in the background and she brought some good moments of comedy to the show. But the character definitely felt like something from a webtoon (for good and bad).

Kim Sun-young as Doo-na's mother. I'm always happy to see her on my screen, but why didn't they have her do more? It's a waste of top notch talent. She could have been a menacing record executive, or the fun landlady who messes with (and secretly looks after) the young cast. If they were gonna cast her, they should have been given more than a few scenes where she yells at Doona and steals all her money (off screen). What a pity.

Everyone else. They managed to bring in alot of extras and fun little side characters that made the show feel bigger than it was, and I enjoyed that.

TL; DR:

This show is all mood and very little plot. If you like the first episode or so, then you'll probably like the rest of it. Otherwise, you might want to skip it.

[forgotten-contract]

Voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

Sleep... A voice within her commanded it. It wasn't the usual melodic ring of her own that usually sounded with her internal voice of thought, but something deeper. And she could not fight it's demand. Still with quill in hand, Cyra's head slowly nestled onto the wet ink on her notes. Her ears relaxed and flopped to the sides, and her tail had become limp in an instant, fluffy tip resting fully on the floor. Her breath slowed, and the slow ache that thumped against the inside of her skull matched the gentle beat of her heart. The Sandman had taken her quickly, as she was long overdue. Poor girl hadn't slept in days, forcing herself to try and extrapolate answers from exponentially fragmented questions in the previous nights. The ominous cradle of dreams would not comfort her this time.

It was not like him to leave someone so unattended - more to the point, it was not like him to blatantly speak in such a way, offering more than the bare minimum of information, words slipping out more than intended - only to equivocally run away for some mundane reason to excuse himself.

Absolutely unseemly. Idiotic. Pathetic.

Walking past the stairwell he made his way towards the kitchen, his thoughts spinning with quiet nothings in reprimand for the fleeting cowl of comfort - the tone in his head a mirror of voices ingrained in the scars of his bones - soon enough as he made towards the cupboards his inner demons quieted as the silence of his home drowned them.

While the cooking area itself was lavish as any estate, dried herbs and spices hanging to color the space with the pans, imported olive woods and slabs of cleaned stone, all the things one would expect, yet the cupboard within were barren beyond the staples of the unspoiled - sealed jars and bags, labeled neat and clean, but to the keen eye wholly untouched.

As everything else, something just for show.

It was here however that he kept organized some extra candles and holders, also within the studies in the secondary floor, but even if he was avoiding a few moments of whatever it was this Contract was, he didn’t feel like making such a trek upstairs. So it was relatively quick for him to return (His demeanor back to the way it should be) - though any words that may have been offered were paused cold as sharp eyes were swift to spot the limp body of the young woman at the table. For half a moment Silvaire thought she was a dead as his house, but upon closer inspection her breath moved the quill that still lay clutched in her hand so the worried dull remark was rescinded.

The Elezen placed the candles to the desk and leaned slightly towards his guest, snapping his fingers before her face and receiving not even a flinch of those laxed ears, he gave a tuneless hum for half a second before resuming his work on the translation.

Having no need to actively have himself make noise with the apparent comatose state of Cyra, his footfalls were empty, the motion of false breathing finally stopped, and the world was peacefully silent beyond the tempo of the pen and the muted inhales of the sleeping feline.

There was still some time before true night would fall, so the lord chose to leave her as she lay, on occasion looking up as an idle finger twitched or a mumble of nothing escaped parted lips, enjoying the focus of single thought. No more questions, no more answers, not a single line of idle voices in the back of his skull - and no more ghosted touches against sensitive skin.

Although, he had to admit to himself, as the hours ticked on and the sun set low within the windows of his library, the presence of another did temper some notion of… something in his chest. It was different, not having to play the part while another was around. Alien. Comfortable. Dangerous.

It was on the fourteenth hour that the whole of the scroll had been finished for her morning perusal (Even having redone the pages he had given her prior just in case some measure of that smeared ink had ruined the copies) and it was after binding them into a stable novel that he realized she genuinely had no intention of waking. Standing at the doorway to the hall, Silvaire tapped a finger noiselessly to the wood.

Leaving her within the chair may affect her ability to finish the contract.

Turning on his heel the quiet steps were by her side in a few moments, and for a second pale fingers hovered over her shoulder, threatening him with the promise of touch, before redirecting to take the quill from her grip to place on the desk, then returning to his side. “Cyra…” Nothing. “Cyra?” A bit louder, sharper, and not even a twitch. Once more he spoke; “Cyra Lunastra?”

Not a single ounce of recognition, if anything the dreamless girl seemed to only make herself more comfortable in her slumber, ignoring the Elezen’s calls as any stubborn sleep deprived scholar.

With one hand against the table he sighed audibly. “I’ll just leave you here then…”

A liar to the core it was only a heartbeat later before Silvaire was moving to try and scoop the smaller woman into his arms, his sleeves pulled taut as he brought his forearm under her knees, his other hand far more hesitant as slender fingers tapped against the curve of the Keeper’s shoulder - pulling back as if he’d been burned before trying again - this time pulling her to lean into his chest as the taller man made to stand. She was lighter than he’d anticipated, and far warmer besides.

If such a thing didn’t wake her, he then dubbed the slumbering fool dead to the world and made for one of the guest rooms wordlessly, on occasion looking down to her relaxed expression to study the marks of her fur, the speckled scars that lay hidden beneath. Divots in the skin that only came with violence. Minute, tiny, unnoticeable to the normal eye. But to the monster who walked up those hollow stairs, it was the details that made the fine print so tantalizing.

The room he chose for her was nothing ornate, yet far more comfortable than the lodgings that Momodi offered, and it took only a few idle shifts of his posture to lay her in bed, tucking her in loosely within gentle sheets; the open window would keep the temperature cool enough for the denser blankets, the chilled wind of the desert always threatening those who lived within. It was only as he made to step away that he realized the coil of her tail had wrapped around his sleeve on instinct for her shifting balance, and as dark nails made to move it, he found himself letting it stay for a second further - before the prickling feeling of something began to crawl into his chest as the furred tip drifted down towards his wrist.

That was enough of that.

He had already done far more than intended for such a minor contract, just simple curiousness. The Elezen had finished his translation, and she had the key to his library, he had no more hospitality to give. That was it.

After he brought her tome to the bedside table of course, it appeared to be important to her. And the translated novel. Of course.

…And as the hours passed in his idle nothings of sorting through his tomes - reading some of the books she’d pulled out before putting them back to her sorting, and even pulling a few out himself he thought she may like use - Silvaire eventually decided that since there was nothing in the kitchen for a ‘normal’ person to eat, he could at least send the pale driver out to get some fruit from the market for her morning.

Unbeknownst to him, some small comforts may have been the very thing she needed in the coming hours.

[doxypsychlean]

hello! feel like deamon x reader "the other woman" by lana del rey dynamic so much recently. can you feed us with some angst? (only if you want, of course! happy ending is still highly appreciated but whatever u want, I just trust your sexy brain with my life) thank u in advance! take care!

Second Choice

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

|Oneshot|

Warnings: Explicit language

Thou shan't repost/copy/ translate any of my work or I'll sneak into your home late at night and bite your nose off!

English isn't my first language. I don't proofread. I slap commas wherever I feel they're needed.

A/N: Decided to be an even bigger pos than I usually am and slap a gif of Daemon and Rhaenyra >:) Enjoy!

Her delicate fingers ran over the side of his face, pushing away the few strands of short white hair and tucking them behind his ear. The man looked away from her before wrapping his hand around her wrist. He pushed himself off the bed and away from her, reaching down for the breeches he'd tossed on the ground a few hours earlier. Her face lost its gentle smile. She propped herself up on one elbow, her other hand pulling the white linen sheet closer to her chest.

"Can't you stay...just for one night?"

She watched as the prince put his tunic on, his back turned to her. He showed no sign whether he'd heard her pleading voice, but instead tucked the red shirt in his breeches.

"Please?" She tried again.

The woman sat up, one hand reaching up towards him. She was quick to put it back down as she took notice of how the silver haired man was looking at her from behind his shoulder.

"My wife will be waiting for me."

His wife. His precious wife. The Realm's Delight.

Her fingers curled up tightly around the bedsheets, fists clenching with anger. It was always the same. He'd come to her, use her to his liking, and then leave as if nothing had happened. Run back to his darling Rhaenyra and wrap his hands around her, just as he'd done to her hours before.

The woman knew what they had would never be more than a quick fuck, yet she couldn't help but feel hurt, jealous, and used. Who was she compared to the Princess Rhaenyra, the heir to the Iron Throne? What could she give him when he already had everything?

She had no shiny, important titles to her name. No gold. No castles. No dragons. No kingdom. To him, she was just a plaything. A toy. Something to be used, then put back on the shelf it had been taken.

If it wasn't her, there'd surely be another in her place. Another to warm his bed, even if it was for a bit. Another to cry after he'd left her and gone back to his true love. Another to suffer in silence through all the ridicule, all the rumors, all the vile insults people spat at her. Another to slam her head against the wall and ask herself why she had agreed to this, why she had given herself away without a fight, why she was risking losing her head so yet another nobleman could have his fun. Another to wipe away her own tears as she tries to convince herself that it was fine. She was fine.

"Get some sleep." The Rogue Prince whispered as he bent down and kissed the top of her head. "My wife would be expecting your first thing in the morning."

"Yes, my Prince." She said, voice quiet as a mouse.

She could feel Rhaenyra's eyes following every move of hers when in her presence. And when she'd turn around to face the Princess, all she could see in her eyes was pity. Rhaenyra knew perfectly well what Daemon was doing and with whom exactly. Rhaenyra could read through him like a book. She could see why her husband had chosen her.

The woman was young. Her body was strong and tight, a fresh breath of air. Flawless skin that had yet to suffer from the cruelty of the years. She had no children. No ground to stand on. No power. She had nothing. Only a pure, young heart that was silently begging to be loved back.

Rhaenyra wasn't stupid. She knew how men worked. How their heads rarely ever did, leaving it to their cocks to make the decisions. There was no point in trying to stop Daemon. She knew that he'd always come back to her, no matter how many whores or how many maids of hers he'd fucked. He always came back. So Rhaenyra let him do as he wished.

The door close with a loud bang. She looked up, her eyes searching for the Prince. But he had left. He'd left her again. To fall apart and then pick herself back up. To slam her head against the wall, to ask herself why she had allowed it to happen again. To wipe away the tears from her flushed cheeks with a bitter smile, as she picked from the dresses he'd given her as gifts.

She couldn't blame him. She was no one, nothing. Just a maid. One of the many that tended to his wife and their children.

The woman got up from the bed, ready to begin with the painfully familiar routine of tearing herself to pieces, then using whatever was left to stitch it all back together.

[ford-pines-owl-tiddies]

Strawberry Pocky

((a/n: cross-posted to ao3! this is kind of short but i recently got some more pocky and figured i'd make a short and sweet little story to it. i managed to get this out all today, hope you like it! it's just all self indulgent fluff, really.

fyi reader in this will be reffered to by he/they pronouns and be called boyfriend multiple times. also i decided to try using '☐☐☐☐' in place of y/n for this one.))

➽───────────────❥

"What is... pocky?"

While Stanford had experienced and learned much throughout his time in the multiverse, the man was also all too aware that there was a lot he missed out on within the dimension he had left behind all those years.

And though he tried not to show it, he couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of isolation when he didn't quite get a reference Dipper made or realized how many movies he had missed out on.

But, of course, his family was always far more perceptive than he gave them credit for. And soon enough he'd find himself being invited into several movie marathons and series binges as well as shown many of what Mabel called 'memes'. Even his darling, ☐☐☐☐, had taken to introducing him to many sorts of things.

And today, with the other Pines' out on their own business, ☐☐☐☐ was now intent on having him try something he called 'Pocky'.

"They're biscuit sticks dipped in cream. Strawberry in this case." His boyfriend has simply said, holding out one of the half pink sticks to him.

Despite his attempts to hide his sweet tooth, it wasn't hard for Mabel to quickly discover this side of her grunkle when she had introduced him to her signature Mabel Juice and the caffeine addicted researcher took to it like a bee to a garden of flowers. It seemed ☐☐☐☐ was all too aware of his weakness. Without further ado, the scientist took the snack handed to him and bit into it.

...Sweet.... Ford tasted the strawberry cream and found himself enjoying it, as well as the soft crunch of the biscuit stick on which it was on top of. He quickly finishes the small stick and sees his dear looking at him with a self satisfied smile. Stanford already felt himself craving more of these sweet snack sticks, but he didn't want to impose...

"Want some more?" They had asked, as if reading Ford's mind. He quickly nodded in turn and was given two more Pocky sticks. ☐☐☐☐ couldn't help but chuckle to themselves upon seeing Ford's joyful expression towards the snacks.

"You know, Fordsie..." ☐☐☐☐ had begun to say after a few moments of Ford silently munching on the snacks. "...there's also a game you can play with these little treats."

At the mention of a game, the scientist perked up, his interested piqued. "What sort of game?" The other male looked back at him, their expression morphing into a mischievous smirk.

"Well... I could explain the game to you..." They begin, fiddling with their hands as they did so. "...but I think this game would be better shown than explained. Hands on experience is your forte, is it not?" Something about this seemed odd to Ford. And was ☐☐☐☐ starting to blush a bit or was that just him. No matter, though, because he trusted his boyfriend, and this 'game' was far too interesting to turn down.

"You certainly have my interest. Very well, tell me how this game works." ☐☐☐☐ smiles up at Ford, excited for whatever this game is. He pulls out another stick and hands it to Stanford.

"To start, just put the end of it into your mouth." He explained simply. Ford hums in understanding.

"What then?" He asks before putting the end of the sweet treat into his mouth.

"Then just try and eat as much of the Pocky as you can." And then, before Ford has a chance to react, ☐☐☐☐ bites onto the other end of the pocky stick, his eyes meeting Ford's own as he rests his hands onto the scientist's shoulder's. ☐☐☐☐ starts to eat the pocky stick, closing the distance between the two, and Ford feels paralyzed, only aware of his boyfriend's lips approaching his own. He feels his face heat up as the Pocky stick between them gets smaller. ☐☐☐☐ grabs onto his sweater, his lips mere centimeters away from Ford's....

And then a tiny snap as the little treat breaks. ☐☐☐☐ is pulling away from Stanford, finishing their own piece of the sweet treat while Ford was still frozen, his face as red as his sweater.

"Looks like I win." ☐☐☐☐ says with a little chuckle, licking his lips. Ford shakes out of his stupor when he gets an idea. 'Hm, two can play at that game, then.'

"Looks like it. Perhaps a prize is in order." His beloved looks up at him with curiosity and ever so slowly the older male tilt's their head up. Even slower he brings his lips into ☐☐☐☐'s own until he's meeting them with a deep kiss. Ford can taste the remnants of the strawberry Pocky on his starlight's mouth. Seconds pass, and he feels ☐☐☐☐ nibble at his bottom lip when the two finally part, breathing heavily.

"That was fun..." Ford admits after a few moments. "Would you perhaps consider round two?"

"I'd love to but..." A Pocky box is held up. Now empty. "...looks like we're out."

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[lam-ila]

There’s More to You Than Your Past

|| Din Djarin

Summary: Finding Ahsoka brought back memories you hid from Din

Word count: 1,582

Warnings: canon violence

please let me know if you find more that i should add

Star Wars Masterlist

a/n: i apologize for this taking so long. i started in over the summer, hinted at it, and then didn't continue it until now, but i hope it was worth the wait!

this is gender neutral. hope you enjoy this! feedback is appreciated

LIKES ARE GREAT, REBLOGS ARE BETTER ♡

You, Din, and the kid spent the last few days trying to find a Jedi to train the kid and had finally been given coordinates on where to find one. You were familiar  with who you had to find and a bit nervous to find her. Afterall, it was Ahsoka Tano, your best friend who, until now, you believed to be dead. 

You tried to hide your nervousness because Din always worried about you when you experienced the tiniest inconvenience. Unfortunately, your nervousness didn’t go unnoticed by him.

You and Din often spent the time in the cockpit together while the kid slept. Usually, you two would take that time to talk about whatever was on your minds, but on the way to Corvus, the cockpit was silent. You stared out the windshield, lost within the thoughts your mind produced, and bounced your leg. Din called for your attention, placing his hand on your knee to stop your leg from bouncing.

“Cyar’ika what’s on your mind?” he asked. You smiled at what he called you - a word that showed that he loved you - but your smile quickly fell when you realized Din sensed your nervousness. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” You addressed the second question he asked then addressed the first. “Nothing’s wrong.” Din sighed, knowing that you weren’t telling the truth.

“Cyar’ika, you and I both know that you’re lying.”

“Bo Katan, she gave us the coordinates to Ahsoka Tano.” You took a deep breath, not completely ready to tell him what’s worrying you. “I know her. We were close friends, so much so that I considered her my sister. Until now, I thought she was dead. I’m just scared she blames me and someone else for-” You cut yourself off, realizing you almost gave away something you refused to tell Din.

“For?”

You were scared Ahsoka blamed you and Obi Wan for Oder 66. You were also scared that she would hate you if she found out you fought alongside Darth Vader, the man both of you used to call a brother. But you couldn’t tell Din that, he could leave you if he found out you were once on the dark side.

“Nothing.” You let out an awkward laugh. “It’s nothing. I just-” You looked up, not sure what to say next. “Something happened that wasn’t great and I’m scared she partly blames me for it.” You stared at Din, internalizing what he could be thinking. “Never mind. Like I said, it’s nothing.” You quickly got up, trying to leave the conversation and forget the conversation. “Let me go check up on the kid”.

—————

An hour after the conversation you desperately tried to forget, you, Din, and the kid landed on Corvus.

"Well, these are the coordinates," Din said after ducking under a fallen tree trunk. "Keep your eyes open, we must be close." Din looked around, searching for any clue of life while you struggled to use the Force to sense Ahsoka. "You hear that?" The three of you looked up after hearing a strange noise, the kid obviously scared. "Don't worry." Din placed him on a big rock. "Sit right here." He turned his attention back to you before saying "Let's see what's out there." Despite not having used the Force in a while, you could sense an attack was about to occur.

"Din wait," you quickly rebutted. Din tilted his head as if to say 'yes?' He could tell you were serious, you never used his real name if you two weren't alone. "Cover his eyes. I don't want him watching two people with lightsabers fighting."

"What do you mean two?"

"Dank farrik Din, just cover his eyes!" He did as you said, right before Ahsoka jumped down to attack you. You quickly pulled out your lightsaber from its hiding spot within your clothes and ignited its red blade, counterattacking the two white blades coming towards your face. Your friend hacked away at your body, but you continued to defend yourself with your lightsaber. Taking a deep breath, you held your lightsaber with one hand and focused your energy on extending your arm that didn’t hold your lightsaber to push Ahsoka away with the Force. She swiftly got back up, holding her lightsabers in her typical stance. Din whipped out his blaster and pointed it at Ahsoka.

“Ahsoka Tano!” he exclaimed, causing her to pause her attack on you. “Bo Katan sent us.” You glanced over at the kid, happy to see that Din turned him away from the action before getting involved, and turned off your lightsaber. “We need to talk.” Ahsoka lowered her lightsabers, then turned them off after noticing the kid turning to look at what was going on. 

“I hope it’s about him,” she expressed. She took a couple steps towards him, carefully examining him, then turned to look at you. You saw the realization in her eyes as she processed who you were. Ahsoka gave you a small smile and said “I’m glad to see that you’re alive.”

“Likewise,” you responded, nodding your head as a form of a greeting.

—————

“I cannot train him. His attachment to the both of you makes him vulnerable to his fears, his anger,” Ahsoka explained. “I’ve seen what such feelings can do to a fully trained Jedi Knight, to the best of us.” You perked your head up, knowing exactly who she was talking about.

“Hypocrite,” you said under your breath.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re such a hypocrite,” you accused. “You had attachments. Kriff, we all had attachments! Obi Wan and Anakin were our older brothers, you were my sister, and I was your sibling. So there’s no way you can’t train the kid because he has attachments when you had attachments too!” you expressed, raising your voice with each word.

“Y/N, calm down. You and I both know that anger leads to-”

“In case you didn’t notice from our little fight,” you pulled out your lightsaber and ignited the red blade. “I already went to the dark side.” You glared at Ahsoka for a few seconds, but then widened your eyes at the thought of Grogu seeing your lightsaber. He whimpered in fear at the red lightsaber you held in your hand. You looked at him, studying his scared body language before quickly turning off your lightsaber and hiding it within your clothes. You left the small cluster of rocks, giving both you and Grogu the space to process what just happened.

After reaching a good distance away from the others, you crashed to the ground, tears streaming down your face. You were angry, not at Ahsoka, but at yourself for scaring the kid, your kid. You knew the right thing was to calm yourself down, but if anger leads to the dark side and you already went to the dark side, you didn’t care that you were angry.

You were snapped out of your thoughts at the noise of heavy footsteps coming closer and closer to you. You swiftly stood up and whipped around, extending your arm out in front of you, prepared to throw whoever was approaching you to the ground with the help of the Force. Once Din saw your defensive manner, he held up his arms, showing you that he wasn’t going to do anything.

“Y/N, it’s just me,” Din calmly said. You cautiously lowered your arm, continuing to stay tense and ready to defend yourself.

“Go away,” you angrily breathed. Going against what you commanded, Din didn’t leave. “Just go. The kid needs you.”

“Ahsoka’s with him,” Din explained, “and besides, you need me more.” You sat back down with Din following your actions and sitting down next to you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered and if Din wasn’t right next to you, he wouldn’t have heard you.

“What for?”

“A lot of things. Like for scaring our kid and for not telling you about this.” You motioned to your lightsaber which was no longer hidden within your clothes. “And for-”

“Cyar’ika please. You don’t have to apologize.”

“But I-”

“Y/N, stop. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay.” You took a long, shaky breath, looking down to avoid looking at Din. “How could you love someone who sided with the Sith?” You two rarely talked about your love for one another, but you found yourself bringing it up to face the unwanted possibility that Din would stop loving you.

“I love you because there’s more to you than your past.” Din placed his gloved hand on the side of your face, comfortably caressing your cheek and making you look at his helmeted face. “I love how much you care about the kid and I love how much you care about me because kriff, I really didn’t expect anyone to care about me as much as you do. I love how you give me the tightest hug every time I come back from finding a bounty, even though I know for a fact that the beskar is uncomfortable to hug. I know I don’t nearly say it enough, but I love you and I will continue loving you until the day I die.”

You pulled Din in for a hug, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to fall down your face.

“I love you,” you confessed. “I love you so kriffing much.” Din leaned into the embrace, savouring one of the few romantic moments you two shared.

“And I you.”

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