#p: 003

[mackfabray]

"Uh... I mean, I've been told it is? But given we live in a society wherein if you aren't married to your job you probably have some kind of generational wealth or some other means of income that mean you can afford to not be married to your job... It's unhealthy but understandable. Personally, my coworkers just think I'm too much of a recluse because I've been here nearly a month and have met approximately no one." Mack shrugged. They weren't sure why their coworkers even cared. It's not like they were offering to hang out with Mack. Well, technically, Mack was pretty sure they were, but they weren't the type of people Mack would normally hang out with. They didn't like mixing work and personal time, a leftover mindset from their previous line of employment, they were sure, but that was neither here nor there. "And yeah, it is, and not just here. I thought small town Texas was weird with its events but this my actually take the cake. I prefer actual horses, but I did hear goats, I'm pretty sure, and goats are awesome, so it has that going for it."

“Bizarrely, my co-workers keep saying the same thing to me. Except I’ve been spending too much time at the office, supposedly. Is it really that much of a red flag to be married to your job, or am I just utterly crazy?” Her dismissive eye roll and small smile simultaneously revealed just how much the notion of…working too much, irritated her. She liked her job. A little more forgiving about being bumped into now that Gabrielle felt a small glimpse of sympathy, she smiled across at the stranger. “Is this your first time at one of these Founder’s Events?” She asked, raising an eyebrow in genuine curiosity. “I wouldn’t knock it until you try it. Properly. There’s even pony rides, and who doesn’t love pony rides?”

[noiranamnesis]

Memory à la Mode

for: @kingcenred

continued from: x

...

“Of course. I wouldn’t be much of a chef if I didn’t,” Marinette replied softly, lowering a tray on the far end of the bed with practiced ease. A hint of amusement played on her features, though her eyes remained steady, quietly attuned to him. “Don’t worry,” she added, voice light, “I'm not here to spoon-feed you.” She reached for his hand, fingertips brushing his wrist as she coaxed it away from the bandage. “Well…not exactly,” she murmured.

Sinking into a chair at his bedside, she lifted a modest ceramic mug from the tray. “This comes first,” she said, cupping it between her palms. “Raw ginger tea. It should help with any nausea or restlessness. I’ll need you to finish it before we begin.” The tray resembled a painter’s palette: an assortment of miniature dishes, each crafted with quiet precision. A golden shard of flaky pastry. A single spoonful of saffron rice. A beetroot tartlet no larger than a coin...

“I’ve prepared a few things you ate in the days you've forgotten,” she explained, more softly now. “Some things you enjoyed...others, you didn't.” A quiet laugh almost surfaced only for her voice to dipped with hesitation. “Sometimes taste can bring memory back. Or scent. Even just a feeling.” She exhaled slowly, steady but hopeful. “I thought, it might be worth a try.”

[digimontcgcatalog]

Upamon BT16-003

[cosmicallybound]

@attroxx invoked the goddess, ❛ i thought you said you never wanted to see me again. ❜ / gives u ghost eyes emoji

     tiered   flesh   pressed   together,   forming   a   thin   line   as   brilliant   amber   warily   studied   the   man.   she   honestly   hadn't   wanted   to   see   him   again,   the   lies   &&   manipulation   that,   more   often   than   not,   left   her   off-kilter.   yet   here   he   was,   soaked   to   the   bone   &&   bleeding   profusely   as   he   invaded   her   space.   try   as   she   might,   hyeon,   in   good   conscience,   could   not   leave   the   man   outside   without   at   least   offering   to   patch   him   up.

     she   noisily   exhaled   through   her   nose,   pinching   the   bridge   of   it   before   she   stepped   to   the   side,   leaving   room   for   the   man   to   slip   past   her.   dark   hair   swayed   as   she   canted   her   head,   lazily   studying   the   empty   street   before   her   front   door   closed   &&   locked   with   a   click.   the   quiet   thump   of   her   head   hitting   the   door   echoed   throughout   the   silent   apartment   as   hyeon   considered   how   she   had   gotten   here   &&   what   god   she   had   so   royaly   pissed   off.

     ❝   yes,   well,   we   can't   always   get   what   we   want,   now   can   we   ??   you   are   lucky   that   i   am   such   a   forgiving   person.   now,   sit   down   before   you   start   leaving   blood   all   over   my   freshly   cleaned   floor.   ❞   a   hand   absentmindedly   gestured   toward   his   usual   seat,   her   eyes   shut   tight   as   she   forced   herself   to   relax   before   following   after   him. 

rivals to lovers || accepting

[narcoestadosunidos]

#pinchefraudenaranja https://www.tumblr.com/redreziztencia #JALISCOvsELFRAUDE @MovCiudadanoJal @EnriqueAlfaroR @PabloLemusN @JuanJoseFrangie @noticias_gab ALMOMENTO ‼️⭕️pic.twitter.com/vlEKFecQW9 ¡Alerta electoral en Jalisco! ⭕️‼️https://javtvenxxx.blogspot.com/2024/08/vencio-la-voluntad-del-pueblo-nuestro.html @OLIMPIAZEUZ #GDL

https://x.com/Adultpo44/status/1830329285917487385

https://x.com/Adultpo44/status/1830329625882607887

https://x.com/Adultpo44/status/1830280756360556853

[nickitxrres]

closed starter for @isaacapatow

location: Nicki's Place

"Maldición jodido hijo te puta!" Nicki hissed, pulling the alcohol soaked rag from her side to see just how bad the laceration was. The motherfucker had cut her pretty good from her ribs in towards her belly button. Not deep enough to warrant stitches, according to Renee, but it still stung like a son of a bitch. Especially when she was cleaning it, like the good doc had told her to. She ground her teeth and applied the rag once again, biting down to muffle the groan as she waited until she was sure the area had been cleansed so she could apply to butterfly bandages to help seal it.

It took her a bit but she did it and now she was tired. The burn turned into a dull ache once she put her tank top back on and she was determined to relax on her couch, drink her rum and work on sharpening her machete and knife while some old movie played in the background that she had seen enough times to remember what happened. More for background noise than anything else. It would allow her to pass the time as she rested before her next big outing. Whenever the hell that was.

She was midway through cleaning her machete when she heard a knock at the door. Not many people came to see her. She could count one one hand the people that would be stopping by - Ike, Mayra, Ares. Maybe Zack but she wouldn't really count him. He was lobo for a reason. She pushed herself to her feet and opened the door, leaning against it and smirking as she recognized Ike's handsome face. "Well, if I had known you were going to stop by I would have cleaned up a bit," she said, stepping away and moving back into her place. Ike was very capable to close the door behind him. "Any word when you'll be able to get back out there, Papi? Gotta say Ares and Orion are great and all, but raiding with you is much more fun."

[reneebrxndxn]

closed starter for @jakehawk

location: playground

It had been a crazy week for Renee. Honestly, Renee thought the craziest thing that could happen would have been the whole Council position, and given the meeting regarding Cole and the hole had exhausted her enough. But then Andy arrived in town and everything changed. It was a miracle - a god damn miracle. She would never forget seeing him in the precinct for the first time in four years. How she couldn't believe her eyes until she cleaned the blood away from his face and she saw his eyes and heard him speak her name. The whirlwind of emotions that coursed through her had been overwhelming and honestly, they still did.

For the most part, Renee had stuck to the clinic. She had managed to convince Ermano to let her move him there instead of keeping him in the precinct so long as she kept an eye on him. Not that she wanted to leave because if she left he might disappear and this would be a whole, cruel joke. But she had her boys that she still had to take care of. Angie had been a godsend and promised to watch them when they couldn't be at the daycare and she still needed to be at the clinic. After all, she had told Ermano she could keep an eye on him.

Right now, though, Andy was asleep and Val was doing one of her shifts at the clinic so Renee was taking this opportunity to take her boys to the playground. She felt bad for not being around a lot right now but, amazingly enough, her boys were understanding. She hadn't quite told them why she was away for long periods of time just yet - she wanted Andy to be more awake and coherent before she brought the boys by. As they ran around on the jungle gym Renee heard the familiar echo of the Hawks running towards the playground and when she turned, she spotted Jake following behind them. Her face flushed at the sight of him and she found herself tucking her hair behind her ear before waving.

This was another complication that Renee was currently dealing with - her feelings for Jake now that her husband was here. She had already made things even more complicated by going to see Jake. Did she feel guilty about it? Yeah, but she didn't regret it. But she honestly had no idea what she was going to do. She knew that Jake said he would be patient as she figured out everything but she didn't know how long that was going to take and she felt bad. It wasn't fair to string him along if she was just going to go back to Andy, but on the other hand, she knew that she had feelings for Jake....what a mess this was. When Jake got closer she moved over on the bench to make room for him. "Hey...I guess great minds think alike, huh?" she said with a soft sort of laugh.

[ofmagiick]

I'm the president of the Lily fan club. Your graphics are stunning and so is your formatting. Your portrayal is exactly how Merrin is portrayed in canon. I see your Merrin and I go, "That's canon Merrin." I also adore how you write Merrin ic, and you are so fun to talk to ooc. Cal anc Merrin have amazing chemistry and it's so entertaining to see how it unfolds. Ik I have said this already but I'm so grateful to have written Cal with you. I'm planning to be here for the long run and look forward to continuing writing with you ♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ this is gonna be short and sweet bc i have a migraine brewing and need to catch some sleep but i have been BLESSED to meet you, and i adore how you write cal. i read it, and im like "yep that is the ginger i have spent hours cooing over and dropping off cliffs. its so wild respawn stole yukis character like that" ilu, and thank you for giving me an excuse to write merrin. i cant write in a vacuum (well, i can, but thats no fun) and im glad youre so patient with me even though i take so long to respond some times

[monogatcri]

━━ ˟ ⊰🍁❝ MAY WE CONSIDER OURSELVES FORTUNATE the shelter we have stands strong against the coming storms. ❞

[ripgray-moved]

@lilacfancy offered: tug ( sender pulls the receiver's hair ), mark ( sender gives the receiver a hickey/love-bite )

𖤐  ⸻ Peter thinks he might just be getting the hang of this 'making out' business. After the first couple times spent learning the rules and mapping out boundaries, the rhythm of things feel tantalisingly familiar Like clockwork, they return to this newfound routine; she finishes her day up at the bakery before making her way to his house. Peter has a coffee waiting for her when she arrives. They talk— and then they find themselves on the couch, the cartoon of the day fading into the background.

Having a girlfriend is new. Exciting. And after the near-death he experienced, Peter more than feels they've earned this.

When Lily crawls into his lap, easing him gently back against the couch cushions, he does not resist. In fact, he revels in it; her gentle weight a comfort, her mouth hot and wet and good. Kissing her sweetly prompts shivers, but kissing her like he is now— deep and greedy, his tongue more at home in her mouth than in his own— brings him need. It shows in the way he clutches her to him, hands no longer hesitant as they cup her ass and squeeze.

It must provoke her, because the next thing he knows she's tightening her fingers in his hair and tugging his head firmly to one side. The brief sting wrenches a gasp equal parts surprised and enthusiastic from his throat, eyes bright with fervour as they steadily roll shut. The feeling of her teeth on his neck is not only fresh but ruthlessly hot, a wave of arousal rushing through his body as a soft moan of approval slips out before he can think to stifle it.

❛ Fuck... ❜ Peter keens heatedly, baring his neck all the more to her in an act of willing submission. ❛ Ah, more... I want the others to see when they come over tomorrow. ❜

[noiranamnesis]

Help Me Understand

closed thread for: @cursedvessels

continued from: x

...

Why would you ask me that

There is little outward reaction in the face of his rage. There had been moments when when she'd witnessed him fraying at the edges, sure, but this was something else entirely. Deeper. Sharper. It dulled her own irritations.

Turning away, Françoise approached a side table. His attempted lie: fine, hung between them, unacknowledged but not unnoticed. If he’s fine, then my hair is naturally blonde and my eyes are green. Retorts left tucked away as she poured a glass of water. "Here." Would he drink it? Likely not. But she'd be damned if she didn't at least try to keep him somewhat hydrated.

His abrupt instruction to cancel the day’s engagements wasn’t unexpected, though it landed with a certain weight. A quiet sense of dread pressed at the back of her mind- one she set aside, momentarily, when he attempted to explain. She wasn’t particularly skilled at offering comfort, but she wasn’t immune to it either. The way he faltered...the tremor in his voice...it touched something in her. It was, perhaps, the only reason she didn’t scold him outright when he asked for a cigarette. The response was vivid in her mind: A cigarette? Absolutely not. You'll likely keel over, and how on earth would I explain it? But she said nothing of the sort.

“I’ll be just a moment,” she said instead, motioning for him to stay. Not that she thought he’d leave- per se, but still. She needed a few minutes in her own room to make the calls.

She was gone less than ten minutes. Enough time to apologize, to cancel the day’s appointments, and to field the inevitable: when would they like to reschedule. The first time, she hesitated. With a day lost, the remaining schedule would tighten. Their return flight was already set- but did it matter? After a moment’s pause, she rescheduled to Monday, ending each call with the same answer.

When the last call ended, she stood at the window, taking in the unfamiliar landscape. Her reflection in the glass was thoughtful, resolute. She had come to the conclusion she wouldn't be able to compromise the silent agreement made with herself: when it came time to depart, she would take him to the airport- but she would not board. Instead, she would remain behind to investigate. Alone.

On her way back, she tucked the carton of cigarettes into her coat pocket, uncertain whether giving one to him would help or make things worse. In the end, she relented, offering one with a quiet hand before lowering herself to the floor. She considered the edge of the bed, just for a moment, but thought better of it.

The floor would do. For now. "Do you need me to light it?"

[cosmicallybound]

@blackhardtt   invoked the goddess,

"What if they kissed?" W/ roderickkkkk

     possessive,   all-consuming   flesh   crashed   'pon   petal-soft   lips   as   large   hands   encircled   supple   waist.   a   calloused   thumb   brushed   over   exposed   flesh,   caressing   silken   skin.   the   witch   sighed   into   the   kiss,   equally   as   eager   as   the   pirate.   slender   hands   grasped   broad   shoulders   as   she   clutched   him   impossibly   closer.   the   expanse   of   muscles   that   flexed   beneath   her   touch   sent   molten   desire   down   her   spine   as   a   hand   slid   further   down,   cupping   her   ass   before   suddenly   she   was   lifted.   shapely   legs   automatically   wrapped   around   large   waist   as   pure,   sinful   desire   thrummed   through   her.

     hyeon   pulled   away   from   the   kiss   with   a   sharp   inhale,   brilliant   amber   wide   as   she   stared   up   into   molten   gold.   something   particularly   feral   lurked   beneath   the   surface   as   her   back   met   the   cold   stone   of   the   alley   he'd   cornered   her   in.   pink   colored   porcelain   flesh   as   she   panted,   tongue   wetting   bruised   lips.   the   arrogant   twitch   to   his   lips   made   her   equally   frustratingly   aroused     &&       frustrated.   liquid   amber   gave   way   to   the   black   of   her   pupil,   desire   painted   across   her   ethereal   visage   even   as   she   scowled   up   at   him.

     he'd   met   her   bluff,   prowling   after   her   with   all   the   grace   of   a   panther   as   she   disappeared   into   the   crowd.   though   she   knew   the   streets     &&       alleyways   well,   the   man   was   not   to   be   deterred,   stalking   her   from   a   distance   until   he'd   found   an   opening.   hyeon   would   never   forget   the   thrum   of   her   heart   in   her   throat   as   she'd   realized   he'd   cornered   her.   the   purely   predatory   glint   within   his   gaze   as   he   slowly   approached,   content   in   the   knowledge   that   he'd   won.   yet,   all   the   same,   his   first   touch   had   been   gentle,   questioning   if   she   had   truly   wanted   it.   the   heated   gaze,   the   prideful   jut   of   her   chin   did   not   abate,   even   as   she   dipped   her   head   in   response.

     a   sharp,   warning   bite   to   tender   throat   forced   hyeon   back   to   the   present.   the   witch   blinked,   her   gaze   sharpening   for   a   moment   as   she   met   glimmering   gold.   lips   quirked   into   a   soft   smile   as   a   hand   slid   from   broad   shoulder   to   thick   hair,   tangling   within   the   dark   locks   as   manicured   nails   raked   along   his   scalp.

     ❝   nnn,   if   you   plan   on   staking   a   claim,   darling .   .   .   do   not   do   it   so   teasingly.   i   promise   that   i   can   take   whatever   you   have   to   offer.   ❞     the   witch's   eyes   danced   with   amusement   as   she   poked   &&   prodded,   unable   to   quell   her   desire   to   shatter   the   man's   inhibitions.     ❝   unless   you   are   incapable.   i   suppose   i   shan't   mourn   the   loss   of   crying   out   your   name   too   harshly.   ❞     though   she   teased,   hyeon's   legs   tightened   around   the   man's   waist,   unwilling   to   release   their   possessive   grip.

kissing, in my christian minecraft server ( yes ) || accepting

[nickitxrres]

closed starter for @f4tef4ll

location: outside of clinic

Nicki bounced her foot in a fast rhythm as she sat on the steps of the clinic. She was currently waiting for Alden to swing by so they could get to work on the project she had asked him to help her on. See, Nicki wanted something made specifically for Ares. Namely a knife - a Tahoma Field Knife. And yeah, maybe it would be EXACTLY like the one that she had learned was his dream knife but she thought it might be something nice to do for him to show how much he meant for her. Screw flowers or cookies or whatever else people gave other people - she wanted him to have a knife that she had specially made for him. That’s where Alden came in.

Nicki pulled her jacket a bit tighter around her as the wind picked up and she looked every which way to see where Alden was. He had said he would swing by today to come nab her for the project, right? She was a tad impatient, mostly because she was excited to get this done and give it to Ares. In fact, her impatience was about to pull her to stand up and start floating around the town to see where Alden might be hiding when she finally spotted him heading towards her.

Nicki breathed out and pushed herself to her feet to meet him halfway. “There you are. I was starting to worry you weren’t coming and go searching for you. So….you ready to do this? Because I have a few ideas and I think it would be kick ass if you were able to do this. You���re still gonna do this, right?”

[reneebrxndxn]

closed starter for @ermanodelgcdo

location: clinic

Things were slowly starting to settle down at the clinic. Slowly, being the key word. Most everyone had come through that needed the check up and treatments and for the most part, the injuries were superficial. Not to belittle what they went through because the trauma from whatever happened was obvious on every person's face that walked through those doors but the physical injuries would heal without a problem. Mentally, that was a whole other story.

Renee was in the middle of taking inventory of what she had left after everything when the door opened. She spun in her seat, ready to ask what happened when she spotted Ermano. That's right - he was swinging by today for a check up. "Oh good, it's you. I was a little worried you might be a new injury," she admitted as she put her pencil down. "How are we feeling today?"

[noiranamnesis]

[ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ] : sender warns the receiver to not antagonize them.

Dark brows knit together, blue hues snapping to him. “Pardon?” Initial confusion subsided leaving a mix of understanding a resignation in its wake. He was by far the most difficult man she has ever crossed paths with- in many ways mirroring the very enemies he sought to destroy: exploitative, manipulative, untrusting, and self-serving. If any distinction were drawn it would only be his all consuming sense of self and untethered brutality. As such, to allow herself to believe she understood the depths or source of his warning was to live in a delusion void of security. Security. A concept she had long grown unfamiliar with.

“I have done nothing aside from loyally standing behind you. Never once expressing discontent where others may hear. Never denying you a single aspect of myself and yet I constantly find myself fielding unfinished threats.” The longer she studied his expression, she remained unable to discern whether anger, paranoia, or something else entirely led him. “To please is to welcome suspicion while displeasure earns nothing more and nothing less.” Fingers twitched at her side, a desire to leave slowly rising within her, begging her to reconsider her words and instead offer repentance. “If I am to remain a voiceless accessory roaming your halls I would love, at least once, to know what it is you desire from me.” 

[noiranamnesis]

Rustling and murmured words brushed along the edges of sleep, pulling softly at the edge of her consciousness. Marinette didn’t stir at first- her body was heavy, languid, wrapped in the warmth of her bed and soft perfume of lavender which clung to her sheets. The weight of the night still hummed, and she offered only a faint nod, as though the gesture alone might suffice. But then his voice reached her again...mon manteau... Her lashes fluttered open, slow and drowsy. The room blurred in her vision, light gilding his outline above her. She blinked up at him, gaze swimming with vague confusion. His hand was extended, open and waiting, but her fogged mind misread the gesture. Without thinking, she slipped her hand in his, fingers brushing along his palm, tracing faint lines into his skin. The touch was featherlight, delicate, her thumb grazing his hand in a small unconscious caress, as though seeking him rather than returning anything. It was only when his words truly reached her that clarity flickered faintly behind her eyes. Ah…son manteau…Her lips parted on a small breath as understanding dawned, but she still said nothing. Instead, she slid her hand beneath the sheets, fingertips gliding along silken warmth until they found the sleeve where it lay entangled between her legs. Her touch curled around the fabric, gently pulling it free from where it had become half-wrapped in her.

Yet before offering it back, she paused. And then, with a kind of tenderness, she lifted it to her face, pressing her nose into the collar as her lashes fluttered closed again. The faintest smile curved her lips, soft and unguarded, as newly familiar traces of him mingled with the vanilla and lavender clinging to her sheets. “Ça sent comme moi maintenant…” she whispered, the confession laced with the barest hint of mischief behind sleepy innocence. The words fell as though she hadn't fully realized she was speaking aloud. She opened her eyes again to meet his. “Je peux le faire nettoyer…si tu veux.” Her voice softened even further, almost drifting, though her hand was already surrendering the coat into his waiting grasp. As soon as it left her fingers, her body instinctively curled back into the duvet, sinking into her pillow with a small, contented sigh. “Mais dis-moi… si jamais tu veux…” she added faintly, voice trailing off, playful and impossibly sweet- though even she wasn’t entirely sure what she was offering. The words barely reached him before sleep stole her away once more, leaving behind only the delicate shape of her breathing, rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.

...

Later that afternoon, as sunlight filtered through linen, Marinette stirred to find the weight of mortification lingering overhead. Even before she managed to push herself upright, it was there, waiting- woven into the hush of her apartment and pulsing ache of her feet, still tender from hours spent in unforgiving heels.

The notifications on her phone offered little reprieve: Why didn’t you text us? You promised.We don't know your address!Please tell us you got home safe.

She spent most of the day nursing a headache and her friend's concerns. Several times, her thumb hovered over her phone, crafting and deleting drafts of a text to Tylio. Every version sounded either too formal, too familiar, or too desperate. Il ne veut pas avoir de mes nouvelles, she told herself each time. Il en a déjà plus qu’assez de moi, sûrement depuis longtemps. The realization weighed heavier than her headache, especially knowing how generous he had been to offer private sessions. She could only hope she hadn’t jeopardized that.

It was nearly two full weeks before she could meet his eyes again- and even then, only briefly. She caught herself glancing down after mere seconds, as though afraid to find some silent reprimand lingering in his gaze. The night itself had blurred in her memory, softened by exhaustion and lemon shots, yet fragments remained, sharp and vivid: her hands clutching the front of his shirt, her head resting against his chest, his jacket warm across her shoulders, feeding him, watching him from her bed while sleep hovered close... Things she carefully kept to herself now, hidden away to preserve a sense of professionalism. Yet something had shifted since then. Where his expressions had once been reserved, polite, detached, they now softened. His encouragements felt warmer now, his praise more frequent. Though each time it happened, she was reminded of that rare, genuine smile he’d shown her that night. And each time she remembered that smile, she remembered how she had held his face in her hands, murmuring words she desperately hoped he had forgotten.

It had settled into a strange, quiet rhythm of sorts. Early concerns: J’ai tellement de chance qu’il ne m’ait pas virée du programme, had slowly shifted to a quieter acceptance: Il a juste choisi de passer outre. And so, she returned to her routine, throwing herself into her training with renewed discipline, determined to earn back every second of time he'd offered her. By the fourth week, her focus was sharp again, her concentration folding neatly into long days of practice. Her friends had only planned one additional night out since her blunder, and though she joined them, she made no attempt to contact Tylio afterward. She convinced herself his offer had been one of politeness, nothing more, and that he likely viewed her as one of the worst tipsy people he’d ever had to endure. Thankfully, Olivier had been there that evening, walking her home before they parted ways.

Since then, Olivier had quietly grown into a steady presence. He was kind, generous with his time, making space for her on weekends when her weekdays belonged almost entirely to the studio. He’d looked genuinely concerned when she explained her training schedule, though she was careful to frame it as eight hours in the main studio and “a bit of extra practice” afterward. So when, this morning, he mentioned wanting to meet her after rehearsal, she’d hesitated- then lied. She told him she would be working with her instructor for a while longer and might still be at the studio. The lie sat oddly on her tongue, but she assured herself it was harmless. Besides, she doubted he would actually come. The studio was far from his work, and he rarely ventured this way. And so, with little worry, she worked through the day’s private session, focused on the minute adjustments and refinements Tylio demanded. Her body felt both stronger and heavier than it had two months ago. What was originally supposed to be “a few weeks” of extra work had quietly stretched into two full months of ten-hour days.

When Tylio occasionally praised her, Marinette couldn’t help feeling surprised and quietly elated, though a part of her wondered whether his efforts might be better spent on someone more deserving- someone who wouldn’t require so much meticulous polishing. Tout ce travail…et je n’aurai même pas un rôle principal. The thought circled often, leading her to quietly use the key he’d given her, returning on weekends for extra practice when the studio was empty- a habit Olivier protested, believing her weekends should be for rest and leisure, with him. Even now, as Tylio reviewed her progress and outlined next week’s focus: pas de bourrée, the same mixture of doubt and gratitude simmered quietly, though she nodded along, not daring to interrupt.

Mari!

The voice jolted her.

Instinctively, her gaze flicked first to Tylio, nerves tangling low in her stomach, but it was already too late. Olivier was already striding through the doors, unbothered by the invisible etiquette of the space, grinning with familiar enthusiasm. Before she could so much as lift a hand to pause him, he was beside her, pressing a light kiss to her lips. Her hand rose automatically to his cheek, responding out of habit, a faint flush blooming across her cheeks. “Ah non…je pensais que c’était trop loin pour toi,” she murmured softly, but her attention shifted the moment he presented her with the bouquet: tulips and lavender.

“Oh… merci.” Her smile came easily, her fingers brushing along the petals as she drew in their fragrance, but the sweetness caught against something uneasy as her eyes flicked back toward Tylio. Behind the thin shelter of flowers, her gaze lingered on him, searching his face for any flicker of expression. Olivier, of course, remained blissfully undeterred. His confidence was something she admired, a kind of easy certainty she found reassuring endearing in its way, though she knew it didn’t always translate as well to others. He could be...single-minded. What surprised her most, however, was when Tylio offered his first name. She had never once spoken it aloud- not even when they were alone. But, of course, Olivier wasn’t his student. It made sense.

“Oui, je le sais, et je l’admire beaucoup pour ça,” Olivier continued with a smile in her direction. “Mais parfois, je pense qu’elle devrait lever un peu le pied. Elle parle souvent de venir s’entraîner aussi le week-end, et je lui rappelle qu’elle n’est pas une machine. Il faut aussi savoir prendre un peu de temps pour soi.” As his hand found her shoulder, Marinette smiled politely but shifted her weight, easing free of his touch.

“Désolée…je suis encore toute transpirante,” she murmured.

“Ça ne me dérange pas.” With an easy laugh, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close once more.

Marinette allowed herself to be gathered, though her eyes strayed, almost instinctively, back to Tylio. Carefully, she slipped from Olivier’s grasp, turning to face Tylio once more. “Monsieur, est-ce qu’il y aurait autre chose que je devrais revoir?” she asked softly, the words gentle, but carrying a quiet tension beneath their surface. “Je sais que nous travaillerons le pas de bourrée la semaine prochaine…mais souhaitez-vous que je prépare autre chose d’ici là?”

"Je suppose que t’avais raison là-dessus", he concurred, because he was surprised by his own appetite. It was usually lackluster but maybe all this time, the issue had not been his appetite, it had just been the lack of palatable food in his freezer. For a moment, he actually felt slightly embarrassed. It was a part of his life he was never able to streamline quite the way he ought to and he knew on some level that it was mostly his own fault. There were ways to take better care of his nutrition. Cooking lessons, or even just buying more expensive options. Maybe he should look into having his meals delivered fresh. It seemed to make a bigger difference than he thought it would. Before he knew it, his plate was half empty and most of his drowsiness had been cured. He was still tired, but it was not as heavy anymore and he suddenly felt he would have no trouble driving home.

'Viens ici.'

He was still eating when she beckoned him, a truly puzzling decision, the meaning of which he would most likely be struggling to decipher for the next week. Because he almost could not believe anymore that she would be so naive. She had to be playing some kind of game, non? An impulsively strung together test, to see if she could destroy his professionalism, his career, on a whim. For fun. Écoute-toi. T’as l’air ridicule. Even he knew it wasn't true. But she could not have picked her words any more suggestively.

'C’est mieux ici. C’est plus confortable, promis.'

J’en doute pas. She was falling asleep though, he could tell. Her eyelids were starting to flutter, her beautiful face looking sleepier by the minute, her voice slurring—although that might just be a side effect of the booze. Again he smiled, almost as though his smile had been summoned by her mention of it. It was a pleased smile this time, because it really did amuse him that she seemed to think he was just devoid of joy in his everyday life. "Rien que pour toi", he agreed somewhat jokingly, as he finished off his dinner. Then he got up. He walked over to her bed, gathering her plate off the nightstand to bring back to the kitchen. But before he did, he turned to look at her one more time. "Dors un peu. Je dirai rien à tes copines sur le fait que t’as sauté de la voiture… même si j’suis sûr qu’ils trouveraient ça marrant", he promised, but it was really not a charitable decision. He was just hoping that keeping that part of the night quiet would incentivize her even further to keep this part a secret. Him, being in her apartment, in her room...it was really a foolish thing to do. Foolish enough, perhaps, to undermine some of his authority were her classmates to find out about it. He lingered for a moment longer by the side of the bed, unable to fully force himself to leave, when he suddenly remembered his coat. It was still there somewhere, under the covers, somewhere between her legs. Her bare legs. He could have blindly reached beneath the linen, a chance to brush her skin supposedly by accident. But he didn't. Even that, he could not afford. "T’as encore mon manteau", he announced instead, holding out his empty hand, waiting for her to hand it over. One last smile, before he watched her slide into a drunken slumber. "Bonne nuit, Mari. À lundi."

....

The drive back home ended up taking longer than planned. After returning the plates to the kitchen and rinsing them off in the sink, he finally took his leave. It didn't really hit him until he returned to his car, just how tense this whole thing had made him. He nearly burned his own fingers trying to light himself another cigarette as he sat in the driver's seat for another fifteen minutes, just trying to calm himself down. He stared at her window, not that he could see anything, he'd turned off the lights on his way out but the image of her lying in that bed were still crisp and clear in his mind. As was the image of her in that towel, fresh out of the shower, rushing across the room to put on a shirt. The smooth curve of her back as she reached up to pull it over her head, her damp hair brushed aside and resting on her shoulder, revealing the nape of her neck. He rolled down the window, blowing out a cloud of smoke into the night air, his fingers tapping restlessly against the steering wheel. There had not been one single moment in the night where she had not been scantily clad and he remembered every stretch, every movement, every angle of her in that shiny dress. Putain… je peux pas conduire comme ça. A rush of heat flashed through his body as he unzipped his fly quickly, dipping his hand down the front of his pants. He let his eyes slide shut, a shaky sigh falling from his lips as he stroked himself, allowing his brain to marinate in her image. Two, three minutes tops—that was all he needed to reduce at least some of his tension, leaving him clearheaded enough to feel immediate shame at his own actions. "Tellement con…", he mumbled, his cigarette remaining half-smoked as he tossed it out the window, swiftly turning his key in the ignition and speeding off into the night.

....

For a month and a half, things were normal. As normal as they could be, within the bounds of the strictly regimented routine he'd set in place for both himself and Marinette. Just like before, he had her practice for two extra hours each day after class and just like before, she showed up every single time without fail. To her, it might have felt the same every time but he could tell she was making steady progress. Whenever he mentioned this to her, she seemed surprised and delighted and almost as though she was ready to thank him for her own hard work. He had to remind her several times that it was her doing most of the heavy lifting, it was her whose skills were being sharpened and polished through way of her own tenacity. He was there, he was helping, but she was dancing the role of Odette. And Odile. It was another thing that he was not supposed to tell her yet, not before the final auditions at the end of this term, when he would review everyone's progress and give everyone an equal, fair and unbiased chance to try out for the role. But it was useless. He'd already decided. The others were good, but she was better and he had the most confidence in her actually being able to pull off both parts. He didn't tell her that, aside from the occasional joke here and there, but the decision had been made. After about a month, he also gave her the key to the dance studio, in case the mood would strike her and she wished to practice during the weekend. He let her know that it wasn't mandatory, her weekends belonged to her, he simply wanted to give her access to the space, should she decide she needed it. Part of him wanted to tell her that if she wanted, she could even bring her friends and they could all practice together. After all, he wanted to encourage all his other students to work as hard as possible too. But he didn't want anyone asking about why he'd given her the key.

That afternoon was a lot like any other. After so many hours of practice, Marinette was finishing up by the barre, the slight slump in her posture and the sweat on her forehead clear evidence of exhaustion. "T’as super bien bossé aujourd’hui", he told her emphatically, a proud smile spreading across his face—during the interim between her drunken night and the present day, he'd become a bit more forward about expressing his delight in her performance. It was impossible not to, she was so disciplined and receptive to advice on how to improve her performance, he could not have wished for a more pleasant person to work with. "Je veux plus que tu t’inquiètes pour ton port de bras, d’accord? T’as énormément progressé depuis le début. On va juste se concentrer sur le pas de bourrée la semaine prochaine, et après on pourra—"

"Mari!"

A voice, an unfamiliar voice called out from behind the studio door. Tylio looked up to see who it belonged to, a sense of unease immediately settling in his chest as he spotted the young man knocking on the glass. He was smiling, quite broadly, and it appeared he'd brought flowers. Without asking, he'd opened the door and within five seconds, made his way over to them, greeting Mari with a flighty kiss. The kind of kiss that was performatively short, just because there was another person in the room, but that quietly whispered: 'there will be a better one later'. Tylio soured, not on the outside but on the inside—sharp, cutting blows to his previously elevated mood, dragging him down in a matter of moments. "Surprise! Tu pensais que je viendrais pas, hein?", the guy, Mari's boyfriend, quipped. He was French, too, which for some reason bothered Tylio way more than it should have. "Je me suis dit que j’allais t’apporter un petit cadeau. Parce que tu bosses dur. Ah, pardon—bonsoir, monsieur." Finally the guy introduced himself and Tylio shook his hand. A gesture that had never felt more mechanical. "Moi c’est Olivier. Vous avez fini, non? Je viens chercher Mari. Faut que je la force à se reposer un peu. Ces entraînements, c’est de la folie." Tylio's brow quirked at that last remark, because it sounded almost accusatory. "Tylio", he replied curtly, but not without follow up. "Et oui, c’est du boulot. Quand on veut vraiment quelque chose, faut bosser dur. C’est un vrai processus. Mais elle s’en sort très bien."