#(( I love her so much. she is a matriarch. ))

[gctchell]

"So I'll be your keeper. Do whatever it takes, I'll make the mistakes, I'll keep you safe."

This is her little family. These are her babies, and that's her dearest companion. And yes, Zestial is hundreds of years older than her no doubt, but that does not exclude him from her protective nature. He is absolutely under her umbrella along with her babies, no matter how ancient he might be.

[capricornsicle]

Question for Teen Wolf fans: What's Allison's best outfit and why is it the one she's wearing in 3x15 "Galvanize"?

[girlyliondragon]

Honestly I do not mind being the crazed worshiper of an unforgiving and vicious plant goddess.

[impulsea]

Out of curiosity...which sister is it for you??? And please specify if it’s design related or because of their personality in the books or sequels, etc.

[inkskinned]

crows use tools and like to slide down snowy hills. today we saw a goose with a hurt foot who was kept safe by his flock - before taking off, they waited for him to catch up. there are colors only butterflies see. reindeer are matriarchical. cows have best friends and 4 stomachs and like jazz music. i watched a video recently of an octopus making himself a door out of a coconut shell.

i am a little soft, okay. but sometimes i can't talk either. the world is like fractal light to me, and passes through my skin in tendrils. i feel certain small things like a catapult; i skirt around the big things and somehow arrive in crisis without ever realizing i'm in pain.

in 5th grade we read The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Night-time, which is about a young autistic boy. it is how they introduced us to empathy about neurotypes, which was well-timed: around 10 years old was when i started having my life fully ruined by symptoms. people started noticing.

i wonder if birds can tell if another bird is odd. like the phrase odd duck. i have to believe that all odd ducks are still very much loved by the other normal ducks. i have to believe that, or i will cry.

i remember my 5th grade teacher holding the curious incident up, dazzled by the language written by someone who is neurotypical. my teacher said: "sometimes i want to cut open their mind to know exactly how autistics are thinking. it's just so different! they must see the world so strangely!" later, at 22, in my education classes, we were taught to say a person with autism or a person on the spectrum or neurodivergent. i actually personally kind of like person-first language - it implies the other person is trying to protect me from myself. i know they had to teach themselves that pattern of speech, is all, and it shows they're at least trying. and i was a person first, even if i wasn't good at it.

plants learn information. they must encode data somehow, but where would they store it? when you cut open a sapling, you cannot find the how they think - if they "think" at all. they learn, but do not think. i want to paint that process - i think it would be mostly purple and blue.

the book was not about me, it was about a young boy. his life was patterned into a different set of categories. he did not cry about the tag on his shirt. i remember reading it and saying to myself: i am wrong, and broken, but it isn't in this way. something else is wrong with me instead. later, in that same person-first education class, my teacher would bring up the curious incident and mention that it is now widely panned as being inaccurate and stereotypical. she frowned and said we might not know how a person with autism thinks, but it is unlikely to be expressed in that way. this book was written with the best intentions by a special-ed teacher, but there's some debate as to if somebody who was on the spectrum would be even able to write something like this.

we might not understand it, but crows and ravens have developed their own language. this is also true of whales, dolphins, and many other species. i do not know how a crow thinks, but we do know they can problem solve. (is "thinking" equal to "problem solving"? or is "thinking" data processing? data management?) i do not know how my dog thinks, either, but we "talk" all the same - i know what he is asking for, even if he only asks once.

i am not a dolphin or reindeer or a dog in the nighttime, but i am an odd duck. in the ugly duckling, she grows up and comes home and is beautiful and finds her soulmate. all that ugliness she experienced lives in downy feathers inside of her, staining everything a muted grey. she is beautiful eventually, though, so she is loved. they do not want to cut her open to see how she thinks.

a while ago i got into an argument with a classmate about that weird sia music video about autism. my classmate said she thought it was good to raise awareness. i told her they should have just hired someone else to do it. she said it's not fair to an autistic person to expect them to be able to handle that kind of a thing.

today i saw a goose, and he was limping. i want to be loved like a flock loves a wounded creature: the phrase taken under a wing. which is to say i have always known i am not normal. desperate, mewling - i want to be loved beyond words.

loved beyond thinking.

[sinizade]

Izveta Noquar

Class: Rogue

Dark Urge (Evil but "redeemed")

Romance: Astarion (Ascended)

Besties: Why does she need friends if she has her own company? (Shadowheart is her bestie)

Being the youngest adopted daughter of the prestigious Noquar family in Menzoberranzan, Izveta was able to surpass the matriarch's biological daughters in any aspect, battles or manipulations. The drow had a natural talent for killing ever since she first held a weapon, the family's only concern about the girl was her constant conversations with a butler who seemed like only she could see, but often some other drow could see a small shadow next to her, almost as if whispering in her ear.

Her first love was the first person Izveta killed, a handsome young elf with beautiful green eyes almost the same age as her who was given to her as a gift by her mother. The young drow really thought he loved her the way she loved him, but she discovered the hard way that it was all just cruel manipulation for him to try to kill her and escape... What he didn't expect was that it would be a trigger for something cruel and bloodthirsty to awaken in Izveta who hunted him like an animal and slit his throat completely, leaving him unrecognizable...

Izveta ended up finding out from her butler that her sisters planned to kill her to reduce the matriarch's chances of choosing Izveta to replace her as head of the family. The young drow, possessed by anger and a feeling of betrayal, slew her sisters, showing them both to her mother like a trophy, but she didn't react as Izveta expected... The woman who raised her all her life tried to kill her and was once again overcome by hatred, Izveta killed her own mother, afraid of the reaction of the other drow, she fled to the surface where her butler constantly talks about a place she could actually consider a real home, where she would be accepted and loved for who she truly is

Getting used to the surface culture was one of the biggest difficulties for Izveta, not having males to satisfy her whims or soldies to do as she commanded was a reality check. The males on the surface were not as submissive and obedient as those who served her in Menzoberranzan and this ended up involving her in several fights in the places where she managed to stay, but it wasn't long until she finally found that place her butler talked about, her home, The Temple of Bhaal, the Lord of Murder... Her father. She didn't like her father's temple, it wasn't quite what she imagined as she thought it would be something grand like a castle or a fortress, but it fit with the cliche "I am a homicidal God"

Baldur's Gate was truly a lovely city, so full of light and life, Izveta simply loved walking through the dark alleys looking for some clueless person who would follow her wherever she took them, so that was when she met that dark-haired human man who He wasn't looking at her with fear, but curiosity and even perhaps admiration? Izveta didn't know for sure, but receiving that look after so long made her interested in knowing more about this human, knowing more about this "Enver Gortash"

The years after meeting Enver seemed to improve her mood. Izveta might have loved killing, feeling the hot blood on her hands, but she loved even more being pampered, receiving gifts, ordering and having her carpices supplied whenever she wanted and Enver made a point of doing all of this for her, giving some small gifts like rings, necklaces, masks... Izveta LOVES masks. Even though vanity is not something much used either in the Bhaal temple or by his followers, Izveta always loved simply beautifying herself, makeup, big jewelry, hairstyles for her long white hair, she loved spending minutes and even hours just beautifying herself with makeup or the blood of someone she killed. Enver managed to make her see him as an equal, not just an equal, a potential partner both with this strange plan with a "brain" and in bed, he had a thirst in his eyes, a thirst for her and she would quench that thirst every time he begged for her...

For some reason, losing her memories, even if it caused a certain frustration, at the same time caused relief... Being able to recreate her story without memories of the past to worry about

Some may think that Izveta redeemed herself by denying her "family heritage" by denying Bhaal, but her wave of chaos was just beginning. Astarion may think he controls her, that she is his beautiful spawn waiting only to receive orders from her lord, but something he doesn't even suspect is that he is right in the palm of her hand... A little flattery, a few whispers in his ear, a few touches on his chest and he does exactly what she wants and when she wants, he may not feel anything anymore or maybe feel, but the memories of the love he once felt for her are what give her power. Being a Bhaalspawn may have its advantages, but having the control of an ascended vampire lord was much better and as a vampire spawn everything is even more delicious, an eternity delighting in the death of whoever she wants and without any consequences... No There's nothing more she wants

Some extra information about Izveta

She loves white, she loves seeing the white of her clothes stained with blood, she loves seeing how her skin is highlighted while wearing white, she simply loves the color white.

She felt a little sorry for Orin, her little blood kin might be a kinda crazy, but she wasn't a bad person... At least not before her mother tried to kill her.

The only bad thing about denying her "father" was losing Sceleritas... Her butler, her true father... one of the few creatures she truly felt affection for

[gobbogoo]

Who Is Scout's Ma?

She's a character we know extremely little about, however when you stop to consider the IMPLICATIONS of what little we DO know, things start to get interesting:

1. She lives in the roughest part of Boston ("if you were from where I was from, you'd be dead") but dresses quite elegantly.

2. She had 8 boys, all of whom she raised BY HERSELF, and yet somehow she finds the time to maintain this impeccable appearance.

3. Scout clearly loves and admires her to a point where it's one of the few things he'll drop his "tough guy" act for, and dialogue in the comics like "Ma's gonna kill me if she finds out" implies he also still fears her disapproval, despite being a fully autonomous adult.

4. Spy, despite what he likes to pretend, is clearly head-over-heels for her. He even had her likeness engraved on his fanciest gun! (Note the distinct hairband & hoop earrings) For a man who avoids attachment to the point where he never lets anyone see his face, that's an unusual degree of infatuation.

5. None of Scout's brothers left Boston while he was growing up, despite a few of them presumably being adults by then. Not only this, they were still all getting into fights together, implying they were both continuing to live with or near their mother and brothers, AND had reasons to brawl with others beyond just some adolescent street scuffle.

My Theory:

Scout's Ma is the matriarch of a Boston-based crime family.

It explains her elegant appearance, how she and Spy were able to meet, why their bond clearly goes beyond a one-off fling, why she was able to be in Scout's life so much despite the financial burdens of being a single mother of 8, and why all of said 8 were continuing to get into fights with other locals. They weren't just some street gang, they were enforcers. It also explains why/how Scout got into mercenary work, his many mafia-themed weapons, and why he continues to fear her ire even as an adult.

Plus, take a look at this unused angle of the last photo from Meet The Spy:

You'd THINK a single mother from the rough side of Boston wouldn't appear so in-her-element on a fancy date with The Spy, and yet her appearance and demeanour here just SCREAM "confident and in control."

Scout's Ma is Boston's Godmother, and I desperately wish to see someone draw her as such.

[neoplatinum]

til' death do us part - part 1 | minatozaki sana

summary: sana minatozaki walks right into your life with a marriage license.

pairing: heiress!sana x reader

themes: arranged marriage au, fluff, angst, tension, lots of elitism, conglomerate power-hungry side characters, implied sex

wc: 5.0k

(series masterlist)

"the minatozaki's are waiting." you stare at the contract in front of you, frustrated at the idea of the family visiting. they sent the contract to you two weeks ago, and you knew that they were expecting a response, as in a signature. but here lays the contract on your coffee table, left to collect dust.

"let them in." you sit up from the couch, adjusting your shirt. you watch the maid let them in, timed steps in the long marble hallway. you hear their presence before you see them. then you see the matriarch of the minatozaki family step into the room. her head held high and proper, like a leader.

she reminds you of your own mother: the sharp tongue, quick judgements, and inability to let go of grudges.

then walks in sana minatozaki, the only heiress of the minatozaki group. she is not a stranger at all, but you havent decided if she is a friend or foe. when you were both younger, annual balls were centered around her. she always took those events in stride, while you enjoyed sticking by your mother's side.

you often remember watching sana dancing with anyone who would ask her; even from afar, you knew she was someone that everyone awed at. they treated her attention like a prize worth attaining.

"hello mrs. minatozaki and ms. minatozaki, please have a seat." you direct them to sit on the opposing couch. "how may i help you?"

they both get situated while you sit by yourself, feeling the weight of the minatozaki power firsthand. you watch your staff rushing to present them with tea, only for the two to dismiss them quickly.

"yes, we sent over a contract earlier last week, please sign it." the matriach points at the contract on your table.

"yes well, it is a marriage contract, a legally binding one. i need time to think it through."

"what is there to think through? you get to marry into the minatozaki group, and solidify your business with the backings of our family, i see no reason that it's empty now."

you frown at that, those were the exact words your own father told you over the phone, you called him immediately after receiving the contract, he told you the same exact thing, ending the call immediately after.

you dont disagree with the benefits, you would just rather marry someone else. someone that you could be in love with, not sana minatozaki.

"mrs. minatozaki, as much as i understand the power and backing of your family. i am rather old-fashioned. i only believe in marriage out of love." you nod solemnly to the older woman.

she lets out a trained laugh and holds her daughter's hands like they're her prize and tool. "love? you don't think that you could love my daughter?"

"mrs. minatozaki, i didn't mean it in that way-"

"so, what way did you mean it? my daughter sana," you say, watching as her daughter stands up from the couch, tall and proud, just like her mother, and smiling at you in that coy smile. "she has a line of suitors far longer than you could imagine; you should reconsider."

"mrs. minatozaki' please if i may-"

she holds her palm up, completely stopping you from speaking. "enough. here's what we're going to do: a three-month commitment. truly court my daughter for three months, and if you can honestly tell me you aren't in love with her, then i won't bother you with this matter for any longer."

"mrs. minatozaki, i think this is a completely archaic idea!" you exclaim, shocked to hear her say these plans. how quick she is to decide for her daughter's life.

"watch your tone. do not forget that your mother and I are well acquainted." she points her finger at you, and in a split second, she's back to that trained smile that is always so unnerving and threatening.

"i'm very sorry mrs. mintatozaki, please forgive my rudeness." you bow deeply at the woman. you return to your trained demeanor, letting mrs. minatozaki run your life for the next three months. who knows what she'll say to your mother if you decline?

both women get up promptly at the matriarch's signal, and you rush to walk them out of the manor. their resounding footsteps echo through the halls. the matriarch continues speaking of the three months of "dating," and you nod at every word in appeasement.

you assist them into their car, and soon they speed away from your manor. leaving you frustrated in your own driveway. by the time the sun has set, you finally return to your room.

--

the thought doesn't bother you anymore, while you were nervous at the idea of the minatozaki's pressing you on this marriage, you had gotten way too swamped with work.

in a week's time since the visit, you were giving a big presentation to shareholders and clientele. countless nights spent languidly going through the motions of collecting data for infographics and reports to extrapolate data. all part of your stressful day job.

a job that you take pride in, to take over the family business. dedicating years of your life to build the rapport needed for your father to put the company in your name.

you begin to wrap up on your final slide, indicating the prosperous quarter that your company has been seeing. beautiful graphics that display profit margins through the roofs. in every chair of that conference room sat a wide smile at your future projections.

"we expect to see a projection of 33% from our previous annual profits, along with more assets, and with the likes of a possible acquisition, this company will continue to flourish. thank you all for today." you conclude your presentation and smile to the many shareholders. they all stand and applaud you; you take a deep bow and shake hands.

the shareholders hound you, all gathered around in suits that costed more than the average house. they only bowed to the sound of money dropping into their pockets. so they push you, push your boundaries of how much you'll let them take.

mr. seki has always been the most persistent, asking for more money than he knew how to spend. so he stands before you, eyes twinkling and his grubby hands rubbing together like he found a gold mine.

you listen to him speak of the golden days with your father, business had little to regulations, making money was easier than breathing, but now he breaths down your neck for bonuses. the words travel in one ear and out the other, he forgets that you were a young child listening in to his discussions with your father.

before you know it, you hear that sharp clicking sound, the sound of sharp hard rubber hitting the tiled floor, you hear heels. short confident steps of a woman, and then you see it through the frosted glass, a womanly figure.

she's walking right into the conference room. then you notice the details: long brunette hair in waves, branded sunglasses atop her nose, a light pink suit adorned with blinding diamonds. behind her are bodyguards that tower over everyone. everyone's conversation stops at the sight of her, she stops right in front of you.

eyes strong and daring, she slips off her glasses and you recognize her, the woman of all your friend's dreams: sana minatozaki. more confident than ever, not being guided by her mother, she smiles that smile that you know your friends swoon over. delicate fingers slip off her glasses as she hands them to her assistant. eyes still focused on yours.

then she does it, grabs ahold of your tie, and slams her lips against yours. and you can hear it faintly, the sound of the shareholders all gasping, drowned out by the sound of your own heartbeat. the searing kiss lasts so long, like a time loop. when she pulls back, you gasp for air, choking and doubling over coughing like you inhaled chili powder. all your presentation material spilling on the ground.

"sorry to cut the festivities short, gentlemen." she bows lightly, an amused smile underlying her sarcasm. "my fiancé and i have things to attend to, i'm sure you know how demanding your wife can be". she giggles at that, letting them all nod, and disperse.

"fiancé?" you cough out, still catching your breath. sana grabs ahold of your hand and drags you out the conference room, and out to the elevators. you watch her two bodyguards at your feet, ready to intervene with broad and thick builds.

they remind you much of your father's bodyguards. but you never wanted them because it just felt so unnatural to be followed by men who protected you.

sana stands before the elevator, and without missing a beat walks in, at the sound of the door opening. you get pulled by the two bodygaurds into the box. now you stand next to a smirking sana and two men who could break your spine ten times over.

you exit into the lobby, all the staff rising to their feet at the sight of you and miss minatozaki. greeting you all, as you rush to follow after sana. you have a sinking feeling if you don't that those two men behind you are going to toss you right into the ocean. right outside of the lobby, is the sight of the signature black marked sedan. a true sign of a minatozaki. like the fortress of a family, this car is far than capable of withstanding a nuke, how true this statement is? you never want to know.

sana is quick to sit herself inside, being guided by her chaffeur. you nod to him before sitting inside, seperated by the middle seat. the door closes and suddenly you feel claustrophobic.

the last time you spoke to sana was years ago, back in law school, you never did like her clique but they were everywhere. so you have interacted with her through case studies and presentations, steering clear of the intimidating minatozaki group. so much for avoiding them, now you're stuck in a car with the exact person you were avoiding all your life.

"mother is furious." she comments, grabbing her heels off her feet, tucking them into a compartment. you stare at her for a while, confused with what she means. "well?"

"miss minatozaki, i thin-"

"sana. just sana please." she corrects you.

"miss sana, please, you cannot barge into my shareholder meetings and attack me like that. that was unacceptable on all levels." you continue. loosening the tie that felt like it was choking you when she grabbed it. you slip it off your neck and into your pocket.

"i thought mother made it clear her expectations. you sign that marriage license, and we're good." she continues to correct you, disregarding your frustrations.

"sana. i apologize but i have been swamped with work, i cannot even begin to think about marriage." you complain.

"work? you marry into the minatozaki group and you'll never lift a finger. those infographics you put together were cute, but the minatozaki's never put themselves through work they can pass off to others. marry in, and we'll find a suitable ceo the second you say so." she is everything you stand against, a figurehead as the ceo is the last thing you want for your budding company.

"i think you are mistaken, miss sana. this company is me, i am this company, that will not change if i marry into the minatozaki group." you don't waver for a second, conviction running through your blood.

she smiles at that, "you are one of those. the ones that are married to their work before anything else." she takes a second to contemplate this thought, what would you bring to the minatozaki group? profit, drama, not a headache that's for sure.

"i'm going to let you in on a secret," she leans her head towards you. "like how you are married to your work, i am married to wealth. doesn't matter if you have a million mistresses, or a thousand bastard babys. as long as you don't smear the minatozaki name, you will fit right in."

"i do not think so miss sana. the minatozaki's are adamant about blood purity, they don't let bastards live." you explain. she smirks at that, you've clearly done your research about the minatozaki clan. "miss sana, please, me marrying into your family would not beneficial to you. i am too concerned with my own self to be a pawn for your clan." you finish, hoping they will let this issue to rest.

"you seem to know a lot about our family for someone who isn't interested marrying in." her eyebrow shoots up and with the snap of a finger, the bodyguard hands her a manila folder through the slit of the window.

"once again, we urge you to sign this. i hope we become lifelong partners, fiancé." she winks and steps out of the car. speaking to the chauffeur, and soon you're being driven by the minatozaki car, another car ready for sana in an instant.

now you're left with a manila folder, weighing heavier than anything else in the world. when you are sit in your armchair with the manila folder, nursing a nice drink to unwind, you finally untie the manila folder. opening the contents, you find the same contract on your coffee table. signed with sana's signature in the bottom, and another paper.

in a written letter from your own father, you nearly crumple the paper in your own hand. the clauses of placing your company in the hands of your father, all shareholder signatures at the bottom. indicating the removal of power. in another line it reads in big bold letters, date sana for three months or your company will be absorbed by your father.

you call up your father.

"father, this is ridiculous, you cannot do this to my company. why are you meddling now?"

"you insolent child, given the opportunity to grow your business, you choose instead to be selfish? i present to you the opportunity of a lifetime: marriage into the minatozaki group. and i've been told you're pushing their patience." his deep voice rumbles into the phone. "my final words are these: you want your company so bad, prove that you are committed to the minatozakis, then i will transfer the power back." he firmly states.

"i don't even have the time, father. my schedule is busy with the new year and final changes with new clientele."

"i've already spoken to your assistant, all work for you the next three months have been transferred to my coo. he will take over for the time being, i trust him to run my own company, so don't you go spouting nonsense about his credibility." you bite your tongue at the sight. how dare your father meddle in your company? one that you built up with your own hands. the only piece of yourself that wasn't controlled by your father.

"do not forget who raised you. i can take everything away." his voice booms through the speakers. he ends the phone call there. and you throw that phone like a baseball, shattering the device into pieces.

--

so you do date sana for three months, finding it absolutely absurd in the beginning. often visiting her wherever she traveled. when she was busy, you would send out bouquets in your absence. you tried your best to date her, devoting time to getting to know her better. she's like you remembered when you were younger, loud rambunctious and had an eye for all things expensive. you spent trips all over the globe within those three months.

it's a strange feeling. letting yourself rest, you can't remember the last time you went on a vacation other than in law school. here you are, lying in a lounge chair on a private beach in santorini. drinking mai tais while you stare into the horizon. confused with your own life right now.

it should've been the merger. you get antsy just at the idea of your father's coo leading the merger, but what can you do. that company is not "yours" right now. while you are trying to enjoy the sight of the bright sun and clear waters, you watch out of the corner of your eye as sana flirts openly with a resort worker.

hand on his bicep, leaning in to show more cleavage, all the while keeping a sultry smile on her face. you're done letting your life be decided for you. you walk over.

"hi honey, how is it going?" you smile towards her, leaning in for a quick kiss. holding her neck in place, as you watch the man walk away. you let her go.

"jealous?" she smirks.

"no. i need answers." you sit down in front of her. "why me?"

"what do you mean why me?" she sips on her cosmopolitan, not provoked by the question.

"why marry me? my father is well known, but we are not a conglomerate group, why do you wish to marry me? i provide nothing to the minatozaki group, it doesn't make sense. there's the watanabe clan, the abe clan, the ito clan. i really don't understand why my family."

"it's not your father or his companies, it's you." she points at you. still sipping her drink. she doesn't skip a beat, no hesitation in her words.

"i hold no power on the world stage, you would be well off marrying any clan." you try reasoning with her, beyond perplexed on why she chose you.

"the watanabe clan are dirty: plagued with dirty lust, the abe clan are ruthless killers, the ito clan has been known to kill their woman. so tell me, how much better off i will be marrying them?" she continues. face hardened.

"i see...they are not as great as their name." you stare at her. less perplexed but definitely confused.

"we all grew up together, all the heirs, i know them better than they know themselves. and i do not like what i see. but you and i didn't speak to each other." she signals for another cosmopolitan, thanking the staff member and digging through her bag. pulling out photos of you two when you were children at the annual balls.

"you are worlds better than all of them combined. i could see it in the way you never vied for my attention. they all were intact dogs, hoping to hump something by the end of the night."

"sorry for the assumptions," you offer. the way she looks away from you, watching the ocean. and letting out a long and heavy sigh. she tucks the photos away. "so, marriage out of convenience? is that all this is?"

"yes." she nods.

you grab the contract from your bag, signing it in front of her. and then placing it in her hands, "to a happy marriage sana minatozaki, i hope you can handle my snoring." you laugh.

she grins at the contract, and tucks it into her bag. "then i hope you can handle my kicking. you groan jokingly and laugh loudly, her joining you.

--

minatozaki weddings were no joke. halls lined with marble pillars with gold accents. dishes made out of the finest and purest porecelin. waiters dressed in their finest, not a single hair out of place. global leaders and their children attending, even if they had no ties to the minatozaki.

the grandiose hall with beautiful mirrors dating centuries ago. recovered artifacts from the edo period, adorning the shelves. the giant minatozaki family crest on the back wall. with long tables lined with wedding gifts. you stand next to sana as the reception procession continues into the night. many notable figures congratulating the marriage. as well as the intricate gifts being handed off to you. each gift being placed and documented by the minatozaki security team.

the minatozakis look happy, wearing traditional kimonos and inviting all the guests to talk about their daughters marriage.

even though the place is filled with laughter and happiness, you can't help but feel like you just entered a loveless marriage. where you are destined to avoid sana, she smiles at everyone, showering in the attention, while you can't wait to get back to work.

--

you had explained to sana you wanted a quiet honeymoon, one that was peaceful and relaxing. so you both went puglia, to enjoy the rich Italian culture and the beautiful greens and blues of the water.

sana spent nearly ever second of the day buying herself clothes while enjoying pestering you. often times dragging you along to carry her bags, and be at her beck and call. she calls it "conditioning for a happy marriage." you had rolled your eyes when you heard it, but you wanted a happy marriage too so you complied.

now you stand in the middle of puglia, taking photos of sana, at her request. for the third time that day.

"how many photos do you need sana?"

"as many as i want. stop talking, more clicking!" you get back to taking photos and letting her enjoy the scenery. it's quite nice being with sana, she may be a bit high maintenance, but she doesn' t overstep when it comes to your boundaries. letting you enjoy your own alone time and venturing through the city alone.

sometimes you bring back flowers or a small gift to her, all of which she happily enjoys with a warm smile.

--

after the honeymoon, its back to the real world. in which your father happily returned the company back to you. the merger had been successful, but you're still catching up on paperwork that only you could sign. in the coming months, sana has moved in.

living together has become a routine. when she moved into your manor, she claimed it was a nice change from her home. you were confused because her house was far more amenities, but you let her move in.

so, every morning and night, you spend time with her, sleeping in the same bed, drinking the same coffee, and sitting at the same dining table. you don't share more than a few words with her, but her presence has become a nice addition to your life.

she's made herself comfortable, her makeup products all lining your sink, heels filling the floor of the closet. her closet so big that she ordered construction to build her own walk-in.

often times you see her out lounging in the sun room doing yoga or pilates. or when she's in a good mood, she'll join you in your study room to do work herself.

she goes out at night frequently, so you make it a habit to stay up until she gets home. you know she's protected and safe with her trained bodyguards and chauffeur.

it just brings you a sense of comfort to bring her inside in case she's unwell. some nights she gets home with love bites all over her body, other nights she comes home drunk falling into your arms. you never comment on it.

she comments on your life first.

"do you...have someone special in your life?" she asks with a glass of wine in hand. you look up from your table, eyeing her in the doorframe.

"no, i'm married to my job." you look back at the work laid out for you, pushing glasses back up the bridge of your nose.

"have you slept with a woman before?" you stop your work, putting the pen down.

"sana, are we asking about each other's sex lives now?"

"well i can be curious, cant i? you always look so proper." she walks in to sit by you.

"well, yes in the past i have." you comment, a little thrown off with the line of questions. she nods her head and gives you her wine, you sip it and place it on the desk. "why do you ask?"

"we've never consummated our marriage, don't you think it's time?" she leans over, eyeing the work on your paper.

"what happened to marriage out of convenience?"

"marriage out of convenience could mean we're sex partners out of convenience," she smirks. she stands up, pushing the paper off to the side. you raise your eyebrow, trying to get her to stop messing with your work.

"sana."

"yes?" she takes the glasses off your face. a coy smile on her lips.

"we don't have to do this."

"i want to. do you?" she stands in your way, eyes trained on yours. a playful smile on her face. you get up to set your mind straight, no way were you sleeping with your non-wife.

"sana, please, you must be drunk." you walk past her, calling out to staff. "hi, could you please assist sana to bed." sana scoffs at you, flipping you off and pushing past the maid.

you return to your desk, eyebrows pushed together and a headache forming. but you can feel that spike in your stomach, you're sexually frustrated.

--

you've been actively avoiding being too close with sana. whenever she circles around, you scoot further away. opting for open spaces where she won't make sexual advances. rejecting her isn't fun either, she gets all pouty about it, but the way she makes you feel lately, has been dangerous. so you try your best to exercise restraint.

in the coming weeks it's harder and harder. some days she visits with your dress shirts tucked into a pencil skirt. walking in like a wet dream into your office. you will yourself to have self control but you can feel it slipping. the way you want to grab her, feel her skin under your fingertips, wanting to wrap around her.

today she manages to get under your skin. "darling, you must be so tired." she slides behind you. and starts massaging your shoulders, pressing the knots away.

you let her, feeling the tension release from your shoulders. her hands move expertly, and soon you feel more relaxed than ever. her hands begin to wander, sliding over your torso and frame. you turn to look at her, playful eyes staring back at you. you pull her into your lap, grabbing her neck for a kiss.

"i think it would be rather impolite of me to have our first time here in my office. maybe later?" you offer, playing with her pencil skirt.

"i don't care where we do it, as long as we do it now." she smirks and plays with your hair. you pull her up and place her atop your desk. walking quickly to close the door and drop the blinds.

she laughs when push her back, back hitting the desk, and then you lean over her. giving her a long kiss, before sliding your hands up her legs.

"come take what yours." she grins. you begin unbuttoning her shirt, hands trailing down until they reach her hips.

you kiss her fervently, moving towards her like a magnet. "yes miss minatozaki."

--

you might have to label yourself a sex addict, maybe a sana minatozaki addict actually. after sleeping with sana, you can't keep your hands off of her. often messaging her and taking days off to be around her.

it's unlike you, so unfocused and nonchalant about work. but you can't help it, sana feels like a drug and you need your supply. so here you are in your study, trying to clean up the smell of sex before your mother-in-law arrives. sana's an absolute vixen and trying to coax you into another round, but you know at any second her mother will walk into the house like its her own.

you spray a scent over top of the room urgently before closing the door behind you. a clingy sana kissing you deeply, trying so very hard to get you in bed with her.

"sana, no. your mother will be here any second." you force yourself to be the bad guy, pulling her arms off of you. to which she flicks your forehead.

"sana!" the sound of her voice booming like it's through a speakerphone. sana immediately tenses up, posture straight like a board.

"hi mother."

"glad to see you still recognize me." her mother chastises her. you watch the two woman, and you stay quiet. letting sana speak to her mother in a hushed tone, while you stand nearby.

it's hard to get a gauge on sana's mother, she's fierce and demanding. you also can't tell if she likes you, she keeps her distance. but you also can't tell if that's a good or bad thing. oftentimes she shows up requesting your presence at her events. but you play the part well as much as you can.

the older woman walks towards your living room, where she was months ago, and requesting you to marry her daughter. now she moves around your home like it's her own.

"now that you two have been happily married, it's important to discuss the next step." she starts. "we need heirs, multiple."

you and sana look at each other in horror.

"sana was the only heir in her generation of minatozaki's, i need you two to produce more than a single heir. to protect the minatozaki clan." she states firmly.

you groan into your hands, horrified at the conversation. and for the first time you see the matriach smile as she shows off photos of sana as a baby, cute as a button.

it does make you wonder about having a little sana running around, so you take the conversation topic in stride. letting the matriarch discuss traditions, schooling, extracurriculars and education to maintain the minatozaki standard.

sana is horrified to hear all this from her mother, but when she leaves, a light bulb turns on in her brain. then she smiles at you in that knowing smile.

"honey, come on, you heard my mother. we have to produce heirs. you know what that means?" then she wiggles her eyebrows as she drags you upstairs.

and you let her.

--

a/n: sana, sana, sana. she's been plaguing my mind recently. hope you enjoyed, proofreading is difficult work so i didn't do it. stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[wndaswife]

To your stepmother’s surprise, you come home from a Christmas party asking for her to care for you; it’s been months since her wedding to your father and months since you’ve paid her any attention at all.

Tags: angst, kiiinda fluffy, stepmom wanda loving you so so much, almost nearly unrequited love

drabble for matriarchal disturbance

I forgot my keys. 

You texted Wanda some time during the evening once you realized you had forgotten them, and since she was the only one at home until tomorrow, she’d have to let you in. Or at least keep the door unlocked. 

Oh no. It’s okay, I have work to do so I can unlock the door when you come home. :)

It was Christmas break and you were home for just a little, so you were out drinking with some friends from high school and some of their new college friends. 

Wanda had texted you a week or two prior asking when you might be coming home. You didn’t answer — you didn’t ever feel in the mood to talk with your stepmother — but you knew it was still her curiosity talking through your father when he called a few days after you left her on read, asking the same question. 

They were both happy to have you home, but Wanda particularly, though you could tell she was trying not to be overbearing. 

She offered to make you tea or coffee once you were unpacking and offered to make you whatever you wanted for dinner that evening, and very subtly tried asking if you’d be home all break or if you might consider staying longer than when you planned to leave. 

Your holiday break ended much later than the day you were planning on leaving, but you didn’t want to stay around much longer than was necessary — you’d spend New Year’s at home, and then you’d leave. 

You weren’t really excited to be home, but you weren’t so cruel as to not come back for the holidays. 

Still, you weren’t really looking forward to having to deal with your stepmother’s longing, curious looks, always wanting to talk with you or bring something up but not knowing how to and not wanting to spoil her limited time with you. 

The feeling you got from seeing her look at you from the corner of your eye wasn’t necessarily all a form of annoyance, but some kinds of pity too, and perhaps some guilt. 

There was something about the Christmas party that sorta had you feeling down, and you weren’t quite sure what it was, though perhaps it was simply because there were many things that had bothered you and you just couldn't pin it down to one thing. 

It was something about meeting some of your friends’ other friends, and even some of their new partners. You hadn’t drunk anything, and perhaps it would’ve been worse for you if you did — you tended to get a bit more emotional while drunk. 

All in all, you just felt… left out. And like you were missing something, or like you never wanted to be there at all. 

You wanted to be somewhere you belonged and where your presence was not only enjoyed but needed — somewhere it was warm and loving and kind and soft. 

While seeing all your friends together with their new ones and their partners, you just kept thinking of Wanda.

And you really hated yourself for it. 

You wanted to go home to see her, and you knew you couldn’t stop it, because you’d been thinking of her all night. So you drank enough to feel just a little drunk — to get just enough confidence to make a bad decision — and went back home early. 

From the window facing the street, you could see through the curtains that the living room lamp was on.

Wanda opened the door when you knocked like she said she would. From the door, you could see a book laying on the couch. She smiled at the sight of you. 

“Did you have fun?” she asked immediately, stepping back a bit to allow you in. Then she said sympathetically after taking a better look at you, “You look a bit tired.”

You thanked the stars for having taken a few shots before you left. 

You stepped into the house and wrapped your arms around Wanda, feeling the warmth of her knitted sweater against your cheek, then against the tip of your nose when you turned your head to bury your face in the crook of her neck. Her hair tickled the space between your eyebrows. 

There was a split moment before she wrapped her arms around you that would have been indiscernible if you hadn’t felt how immediate her embraces were a million-and-one times before. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Wanda asked, having turned her head to look down at you so the breath of her soft whispered voice blew warm and gentle against your ear. 

“I wanna be your baby again,” you confessed — stupidly. 

Wanda tried to speak immediately for how she felt deep in her chest when you spoke the words she had only dreamt would come out of your mouth ever since the wedding, but found she could speak only in stutters. 

Then she finally said, “You’ll always be my baby, Y/N.”

You hugged her tighter and you knew that if you hadn’t been just a little bit drunk, you would’ve been angry at what she had just said. But now, it could nearly make you cry. 

“Can you bring me to bed?” you mumbled quietly into her neck, still seemingly a bit embarrassed through your drunken state. 

“Of course,” she answered, smiling down at you. This was the closest you’d been to her in months, and likely the longest you’ve spoken to her with undivided attention in that same span of time too. She almost didn’t want to move at all for how you’d unwrap your arms from around her once you headed up the stairs together. 

You unwrapped yourself from around her body and she closed and locked the front door; you’d literally just been standing embracing each other in the wide-open doorway for several moments. 

Then you swiped at your eyes when you pulled away in case you accidentally had cried. 

Wanda smiled at you sweetly, and a bit tiredly too, and you knew she must’ve finished her work a little bit ago and decided to stay up to wait for you. She took your hand and you walked up the stairs beside each other in silence. 

She squeezed your hand and you squeezed back, and Wanda looked over her shoulder at you shyly as you stared down at the steps of the staircase. 

“Can I help you get ready for bed?” she asked once you both arrived in front of the washroom. 

You nodded silently then looked up at her with a small smile. “I just have to get my stuff from my bags,” you told her. Then, a bit hesitantly, you let go of her hand and walked towards your bedroom. 

Wanda turned on the washroom light and paced around a little, playing with the knitted fabric of her sweater nervously and checking her hair a bit in the mirror, and even trying to repress a tiny smile as she couldn’t help but make comparisons to how it all used to be before the wedding. 

But she didn’t want to get ahead of herself — after all, every day after this would be different, and whatever had caused you to come seeking her comfort wasn’t guaranteed to happen again from tonight onwards. 

You came into the washroom with a little bag of your toiletries and started unpacking them, starting with makeup wipes and face wash then everything else. 

“Come lean against the counter,” Wanda said, and you did. She began removing your makeup with one of your makeup wipes, the fingers of her other hand delicately perched under your chin to keep your face in the light. 

She was gentle with how she swiped against your face, and thorough with taking all the makeup off. 

Wanda was always so nice and gentle. In taking care of you, and in treating you in any way, really, she always did it as if you were delicate, and special to her too. She never wanted to hurt you, never wanted to make you feel like you weren't the most important thing in the world to her. 

You felt like crying, but really didn’t want to ruin how casual you were trying to make everything seem. 

She must’ve noticed how your eyes were filling with tears because once she finished she set the makeup wipe down and held you to her chest wordlessly, running her hand down the side of your head soothingly with her other arm wrapped around your waist. 

She seemed to understand that you still had your reservations about being with her like this again, and that you weren’t trying not to get into things too quickly. 

Even so, she couldn’t help but… hope, even just a little, that the feeling of how she held you and brought you close might make you miss her enough to want to be her baby again for more than just an evening. 

“I’m gonna brush my teeth and stuff,” you mumbled and straightened out of her hold, swiping at your eyes again.

Wanda packed up your makeup wipes and slid it back into the toiletry bag you brought. 

Quietly, you asked, “Can I sleep with you?”

You weren’t really sure where to look when you asked, so you tried to keep busy getting your toothbrush ready. 

But when Wanda replied with a gentle, almost eager, ‘Of course,’ you couldn’t help but look over at her to see her smiling at you.

You looked away while she told you that she would also change and get ready while she waited for you — her shared bedroom had a washroom in it. 

Wanda felt ridiculous for how she felt in her stomach — a familiar fluttering feeling dancing around where it would when you were still together. Sometimes Wanda reasoned the memory of the feeling up to a fantasy, that perhaps she may have recalled it as differently as it had been for it’d been so long since she’d felt it. 

But it was exactly the same as she recalled. 

And it was only with you. 

She hadn’t realized she had been smiling until she heard you come into the bedroom, and she instinctively relaxed her face so as to not be overzealous and overwhelm you. 

“Are you ready for bed?” she asked, closing the door of the walk-in closet as she stood in her pajama shorts and tank. 

You nodded then looked away from her for how happy you felt to be asked that, to soon be adorned by Wanda’s kisses and touched by her gentle, loving hands and embraced by her arms the moment you got into bed. 

Wanda seemed to be hesitant at your reluctance for a moment. Her fingers twitched with the urge to walk over and embrace you, to kiss your lips and lead you to her bed. But instead, restraining herself, she went to bed first, getting under the covers and looking over at you encouragingly. 

Silently, you followed after closing the bedroom door. 

She turned off the lamp on her side and you hesitated for a moment before you reached over and did the same. 

Then you were blanketed in the darkness of the bedroom, and for a moment you couldn’t see Wanda in your peripheral vision at all; you could for a moment construe the feelings of blankets under your hands as being in your own bed instead of hers. 

For a moment you felt glad to imagine you had made it all up, but then you felt terribly disappointed and lonely again. 

Without Wanda, it was always just a little bit… lonely. 

But the burst of sudden feelings was contained only within a few moments’ time, for your eyes soon adjusted and you could see the shadow of your stepmother beside you. 

She reached out for you, her hand moving under the blankets and placing it on your bare thigh. She moved closer. 

“Don’t be nervous,” she said quietly. “It’s okay.”

You’d been here before — in Wanda’s bed without your dad being home, in her company, in the spotlight of her undivided attention, in the warm shower of all her heart could pour out for you and only you. 

It was was familiar with Wanda and you knew it for it was the closest thing you’d felt in a while to being somewhere you were certain you belonged in. 

Then she added, “I want you here, Y/N.”

Like you had asked her, Wanda babied you — she cared for you. Her other hand wrapped around your waist and she slowly urged your body to lay down beside her. 

She didn’t stop there; she moved herself onto her elbow only slightly to gain height over you, then cupped your furthest cheek with her hand. She kissed your face gently, tenderly, on your temple then on your cheekbone, and your chin. 

Not your lips — not unless it was you who made an advance towards her first. 

You turned and wrapped an arm around her torso securely, burying your face in her chest. She lowered herself back down and wrapped her arms around you immediately. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you muttered against her, “I love you.”

In the morning when you arose before her, you carefully peeled yourself away from a soundly-sleeping Wanda. There was a pang in your chest as you sat at the edge of the bed, recalling how she held you close after you had told her you loved her.

She held you in a way that communicated desperation and longing; it wasn’t only sweet and tender like she always was, but pained, too. She had cradled the back of your head to her chest, rubbed your upper back and pressed her lips against the top of your head. 

She might’ve nearly said that she loved you a fourth time, though you presumed she had tried to contain the way she wanted to pour herself out for you right then and there. 

You turned and watched as she dozed, her body the very same that you were held against through the night, the same you had thrown yourself into her arms of and were accepted and loved and cared for like you wanted, like Wanda wanted. 

How at peace she seemed having gone to sleep with you in her arms, with all she had been longing for warm in her embrace and sleeping in the eternal comfort of her loving. 

If you were honest with yourself, and you tried to be for how often you lied to Wanda, you didn’t think it was a lie when you told her you loved her, for you still did. 

And you still could, inviting her over to your place and responding to her calls and texts when you were away, letting her care for you and at the very least not pretend she wasn’t always looking at you, waiting only for your eye contact as cue for her to bring up one of the dozens of questions and worries she had about the life that you no longer shared with her — which was to say, all of it. 

Wanda stirred and her fingers flexed outwards slightly, reflecting a slowly-rising sun’s beams against her wedding ring, before she relaxed again, still in deep sleep. 

Just under an hour later once Wanda woke up to find you gone, she texted asking where you were. 

When she texted, you knew that she must have looked first to see if you had moved to your own bed, for you had left and decided to go on a drive. 

She messaged: Have you gone out?

Sitting in a parking lot of a walking trail with the breakfast you picked up, the sun only just having fully risen, you texted back. 

Forgot something at Kate’s last night.

She asked if you were going to eat breakfast there or if you would be home to have breakfast with her; she’d make some now so it could be ready by the time you got back. 

You tried to keep eating after choosing to leave your stepmother on read, but soon lost your appetite. Instead, you went on a walk that lasted until the early afternoon when your dad got back home. 

As you had planned, you went back to your place on the second of January, and that evening wasn’t ever brought up. 

[reginaldqueribundus]

the Sarek family is hilarious to me because you have so much drama in one place. there have got to be at least 3 like, holo-documentaries or whatever about them. how could you not?

you have Sarek, the patriarch: one of the UFP's top diplomats, who knocks up a Vulcan princess then goes “hrm I am ambassador to Earth therefore I should marry a human” and he does, upsetting all sorts of the worst kinds of people on his home planet and causing racist hate groups to try to blow him and his family up multiple times, and seems honestly more put out by his son joining Starfleet than his other son becoming Vulcan Moriarty

Amanda, the matriarch: an accomplished educator and quite possibly the only well-adjusted member of the family, but when her son Spock shows up on her doorstep after growing a beard, having a mental breakdown and apparently murdering several medical staff she still shrugs and hides him in the family mausoleum

Sybok: Amanda's stepson from the aforementioned princess fling, who becomes an antiestablishment criminal mastermind with an edgelord fake name, hooks up with a hot space pirate, finds religion, starts a cult, takes an entire colonial government hostage sparking a diplomatic incident involving three galactic superpowers, and hijacks a Starfleet ship to the galactic core to find the Vulcan Garden of Eden, where he dies fighting god in hand-to-hand combat

Michael, a traumatized human girl Sarek brings home from a work trip, who joins Starfleet, becomes their first-ever mutineer, goes to prison, saves the Federation from a war most people think is her fault and gets “killed” in a highly classified, very suspicious incident involving an experimental starship and a series of red lights that appeared across the galaxy like a divine omen (oh, and returns 900 years later to solve the dilithium crisis, kill the head of the Emerald Chain and save two entire star systems including her siblings' homeworld)

and last but not least Sarek & Amanda's one-of-a-kind hybrid baby. Spock, who gets accepted into the Vulcan Science Academy, tells them to go fuck themselves when they're racist about it, runs off to Starfleet instead, gets so famous his arranged marriage falls apart resulting in him publicly strangling his own captain to death except not really, steals the Federation flagship twice, invents time travel, saves the entire planet Earth, dies and comes back to life, goes into his dad's line of work and achieves peace with the freaking Klingons as his opening act, then after a long successful career suddenly dips to go do extremely dangerous underground activism on one of the most paranoid authoritarian worlds in the galaxy to unify the Romulans & Vulcans who've hated each other for over a thousand years — and he isn't around to see it but it eventually works. then he fucks off with the VSA's high-speed prototype ship full of the most dangerous substance known to science and gets sucked into a black hole of his own creation, never to be seen again. and this is just the stuff that's public knowledge!

then you dig into the novels where Sarek's ancestor basically makes out with Zefram Cochrane 5 seconds after meeting him and Amanda tells the press her husband has a huge cock

I love them

[swordmaid]

the fact that you can know recruit minthara via grove raid defence means that she can finally be a companion in shri’iia’s playthrough …!!!!

[d-targaryenshoe]

Betrothed, Wed - Anthony Bridgerton

Word count: 2914

Summary: Being wed to one another is more than just an 'I do' is it not?

The Bridgerton household was bustling with activity as the family gathered around the breakfast table. 

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm croissants filled the air, and the sound of cheerful chatter could be heard echoing through the corridors.

 It was a regular morning in the Bridgerton household, but little did they know, this breakfast would be far from ordinary.

As the family settled into their seats, Violet Bridgerton, the matriarch of the family, spoke up. 

"My dear children, I do hope there will be another grandchild soon," she said with a twinkle in her eye. 

This was a topic that was often brought up at the breakfast table, as Violet was keen on expanding their already large family.

Eloise Bridgerton, the second eldest daughter, was sipping on her tea when she heard her mother's words. 

She was taken aback and her eyes widened in surprise.

 She had not expected this topic to come up at the breakfast table, especially not so early in the morning.

As she tried to swallow her tea, she choked on it and coughed uncontrollably. 

Her siblings and mother quickly rushed to her side, patting her on the back and offering her water. 

Once she had regained her composure, Eloise glared at her mother and exclaimed

"Mother, must you always bring up the topic of marriage and children at breakfast?"

Violet chuckled at her daughter's reaction and replied. "Eloise, I am only stating the truth. Y/n is to be wed to Anthony today and it would be a pleasant surprise."

This was a common conversation in the Bridgerton household, as Violet was known for her love of children and her desire to have a large family. 

She had raised her eight children almost single-handedly after her husband's untimely death, and she cherished every moment of it.

Her children, on the other hand, had mixed feelings about the topic. 

Eloise and her younger sister, Francesca, were not as keen on the idea of marriage and children just yet.

Eloise had always been a headstrong and independent woman, and the thought of settling down and starting a family did not appeal to her. 

She had always dreamt of making a name for herself and pursuing her passion for writing. 

Francesca, on the other hand, was content with her life as it was and had no desire to conform to societal expectations.

Violet, however, was determined to see all her children settled and happy, and she was not one to give up easily.

 She continued to bring up the topic of marriage and children at every opportunity, much to the dismay of her children.

As they continued with their breakfast, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. 

But, the buzzing chatter came to a halt when the Bridgerton sister, Eloise, exclaimed.

“Have you all heard about the dress that Madame Delacroix has designed for y/n? It’s said to be one of her most exquisite works yet!”

The mention of the well-known designer, Madame Delacroix, immediately caught everyone’s attention, especially Daphne and Violet Bridgerton, who couldn’t hide their curiosity. 

You were a close family friend and recently engaged to Anthony Bridgerton, the eldest Bridgerton brother. 

The news of your betrothal had created quite a stir in London’s high society circles.

And now, there was talk of a special dress designed just for you by Madame Delacroix herself.

Eloise, who had heard about the dress from Lady Danbury, eagerly filled in her family with the details.

 “Apparently, Madame Delacroix has designed the dress keeping in mind y/n's vibrant and lively personality. It’s going to be fearless and assertive, just like her,' she explained.

The mention of an unconventional dress for a bride-to-be piqued Daphne’s interest, who had made a name for herself.

 “Well, this sounds like a dress worth seeing. I might even have some pointers for my dear sister-in-law,” she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Violet, the matriarch of the Bridgerton family, couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of seeing you in a dress that truly represented you.

 “I have always admired Madame Delacroix’s work, and I am sure this dress will be no exception. It will be a perfect reflection of y/n's character,” she remarked.

Daphne leaned in, her voice low and conspiratorial. 

"You know, Mother, I think it's time we assisted y/n to get ready for her big day. Eloise and I can take care of making sure the carriage arrives on time." 

Violet nodded in agreement, her eyes twinkling with delight.

 "That's a splendid idea, Daphne. Why don't you and Eloise ask Maid Rose for that matter while I help y/n with her wedding dress?"

You looked up at Violet, your heart swelling with gratitude. 

You always admired the older woman's grace and beauty, and the thought of having her help you get ready for your wedding was more than you could have asked for. 

As you stood, Violet placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. 

"You look stunning, dear. Now, let's get you into your dress and make sure you're ready to walk down the aisle in class."

Together, you made your way upstairs to the dressing room, the other women of the Bridgerton household trailing behind you. 

Eloise chuckled, "I can't wait to see you in your dress, y/n!" 

You blushed, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You turned to Violet, who was already helping you unbutton your gown.

 "Thank you," you whispered. "For everything."

 Violet smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling with understanding. "It's my pleasure, dearest. Today is all about family, after all."

As they helped you into your wedding dress, the other women clustered around, offering their assistance and well wishes. 

Daphne secured the last of the buttons, while Eloise fussed with the veil until it was just so. 

 You looked like a goddess, ready to embark on your happily ever after.

Finally, they all stepped back to admire their handiwork. There was a moment of quiet as if everyone was taking in the significance of the moment. 

And then, Eloise, never one to be at a loss for words, squealed.

"You look absolutely radiant, y/n!"

 The others chimed in, nodding in agreement, their eyes shining with tears of happiness. 

You felt a lump form in your throat as you turned to Violet. 

"Thank you," you whispered. "For all of this." 

Violet reached out, taking your hand in hers. "Oh, dear," she said with a wink, "You're the one who's to be wed today."

And then, there was a knock at the door.

Violet Bridgerton, looked up from where she was standing in the room, her attention momentarily diverted from your dress. 

"Yes?" she called, her voice calm and composed.

There was a pause, and then the voice of Maid Rose floated up from the hallway. 

"My lady, the carriage is ready to take you to the chapel."

Violet smiled, nodding her approval.

 "Thank you, Rose. Please notify the driver that we will be on our way shortly." She turned back to her daughters and you.

 "Everyone, it's time. Let's make our way downstairs and get to the chapel."

Daphne, a blush prominent on her cheeks, stepped forward and took your hand. 

"Come, y/n. We'll carry your train together." 

As you all descended the grand staircase, the soft swishing of silk and the click-clack of heels echoed through the manor.

 Eloise, ever the curious one, darted ahead to peek out a window, marveling at the carriage outside.

When you reached the bottom of the staircase, Violet paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you, she felt a pang of pride and sadness all at once.

Knowing that this day would mark a new chapter not only for you and Anthony but for her family as well. 

She squared her shoulders and led you all out the door, towards the awaiting carriage.

The sun was shining brightly overhead, casting a warm glow over the manor grounds as you walked towards the carriage.

As you neared the carriage, the coachman opened the door and bowed gracefully. "Good morning, ladies. Shall we be on our way?"

Daphne, still holding your hand, stepped up into the carriage and took a seat beside you.

 She glanced back at her mother and Eloise, a sparkle of anticipation in her eyes.

 "Thank you," she said, reaching out to help Eloise and Violet into the carriage as well. 

As you all settled in, the coachman shut the door and climbed up onto his perch, taking the reins in hand. 

With a snap of his whip, the horses sprang into action, carrying you and the three Bridgertons towards the chapel.

The air inside the carriage was filled with the sweet scent of flowers and the rustle of your dress as you shifted her position. 

Finally, you rounded a corner and spotted the familiar spire of the chapel poking above the treetops.

As the carriage pulled up in front of the chapel, Violet stepped out first, her dress swirling about her as she supported Daphne and Eloise's descent. 

She then turned to face you, taking your hands in her own.

"My dear, you look absolutely stunning. Daphne has done an excellent job with your hair."

You smiled shyly. "Thank you, Violet. I'm just glad that everything is finally here. I can't believe it's actually happening."

You glanced over at Daphne, whose eyes glowing with happiness. "I'm so glad you're going to be my sister."

Your heart ached at the thought of your late father not being there to fulfill this honor. 

You had always imagined him proudly by your side during this momentous occasion. 

With a heavy heart, you thought of your options. 

You didn't have many close male relatives, and you weren't particularly close to your mother either.

 As you deliberated over your dilemma, your eyes wandered to the elegant figure of Violet Bridgerton.

The family's matriarch, who had always been like a mother figure to you.

Summoning your courage, you approached Violet in front of the steps from the chapel. 

"Violet, may I speak with you?" you asked, your voice filled with trepidation.

Violet turned towards you, her eyes filled with warmth. 

"Of course, my love," she replied. "What troubles you?"

You hesitated before speaking, your voice quivering with emotion.

 "I… I don't have anyone to walk me down the aisle," you confessed. "Would you consider doing it?"

Violet's eyes widened, her face a testament to the surprise. 

"Y/n, I would be honored," she said, her voice filled with sincerity. "Your father was a dear friend of mine, and I would be overjoyed to stand in his place."

Relief swept over you, and tears welled in your eyes. "Thank you, Violet. You have no idea how much this means to me."

When the time came, you and Violet entered the chapel side by side. The guests rose, their awe evident in their expressions. 

Your eyes locked on Anthony, who stood at the altar, an enchanting smile gracing his handsome face.

As you and Violet glided down the aisle together, the sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the floor. 

The guests turned their heads, captivated by the sight of the bride and her mother-in-law.

Whispers of admiration echoed through the chapel as you and Violet's steps synchronized with one another. 

You both moved with grace and poise, your bond visible to all. 

It was a moment of pure friendship and love, transcending traditional roles and expectations.

When you reached the altar, Violet placed your hand in Anthony's, closing your hands together as a symbol of unity. 

The chapel fell silent, and time seemed to stand still amidst the romance and pure joy in the air.

Anthony stood tall at the altar, his heart racing in his chest, his midnight-blue suit a stark contrast against the gleaming white surroundings. 

Handsome and dignified, he anxiously kept his gaze fixed on you, his bride. 

His palms dampened with anticipation, his mind swirling with a mixture of nerves and awe.

Gasps of admiration echoed through the hallowed space, and even the rustle of dresses and suits seemed to quiet in reverence to her ethereal beauty. 

Father Timothy, a wise and gentle elderly priest, smiled warmly, his eyes twinkling with mirth and faith as he welcomed you and initiated the ceremony.

The atmosphere was filled with a mixture of reverence and excitement as you both exchanged vows, your heartfelt words carrying through the sacred space.

 The words, "for better or for worse," hung in the air, a promise that resonated with the sincerity and depth of your love.

 Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes as you spoke your vows, your voice filled with raw emotion.

Anthony's voice shook with emotion as well, his eyes locked onto yours, your love a definite force binding you together. 

The sunlight, streaming through the windows, seemed to bathe you both in a celestial glow as if bestowing blessings upon your blessed union.

Father Timothy's voice rose and fell, his words weaving a tapestry of guidance and hope for your future. 

He spoke of strength, warmth, and companionship, reminding you of the loyalty and support you both had vowed to offer each other. 

 The Bridgertons looked on with unwavering support and love, tears glistening in their eyes, knowing that this day marked far more than the union of you two.

 It signified the merging of two families and the creation of a new beginning.

As the ceremony reached its crescendo, you and Anthony exchanged rings, solemnizing your commitment to one another.

 The diamond on your finger sparkled, catching the light like stars in a midnight sky.

While Anthony's gold wedding band gleamed, symbolizing the eternal circle of your love.

With each heartfelt word and sacred act, the chapel seemed to hum with the intensity of emotions emanating from every person present.

 The love felt within those walls was palpable - a love that transcended time, a love that would forever be etched in the hearts of everyone who witnessed it.

Finally, Father Timothy proclaimed, "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

As the swelling music filled the air, signaling the end of the ceremony, you and Anthony joyfully sealed your vows with a passionate kiss. 

Cheers erupted from the congregation, filling the chapel with exuberance and celebration, their applause reverberating against the high ceilings and intricately carved arches. 

It was a moment of pure bliss, two souls basking in the enchantment of newfound union.

The chapel doors swung open with a gentle creak, and all eyes turned to gaze upon you as a newly married couple.

Y/n and Anthony Bridgerton.

 Your heart fluttered with excitement as you clung to Anthony's arm.

Feeling the weight of your future and the promise of a lifetime together. 

You had dreamt of this day for as long as you could remember, and now it had finally come true.

The sun filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a warm glow on the white walls of the chapel.

 Soft music played in the background as you and Anthony made your way down the aisle, your steps light and graceful. 

As you reached the doors, you paused for a moment, taking in the sight before you. 

The courtyard was bathed in sunlight, a sea of vibrant colors and delicate scents. 

The guests held flower petals in their hands, ready to shower you with love and good wishes.

You could hardly contain your excitement as you and Anthony stepped outside. 

The air was fragrant with the sweet smell of blossoms, and the sound of laughter and clapping filled the courtyard. 

As the guests threw flower petals towards you, you were both enveloped in a cascade of petals, a beautiful shower of nature's confetti.

You looked up, your eyes sparkling with joy.

 The sky seemed bluer than ever, a perfect backdrop to your special moment. 

You could feel the weight of tradition and happiness settle upon your shoulders, lifting your spirit into the realm of pure bliss.

 This was the start of your journey, a new chapter in your love story.

Together you made your way through the sea of flowers, your steps like a waltz, graceful, harmonious, and full of promise.

 The petals clung to your clothes, creating a tapestry of colors that seemed to dance with your every move.

 Each step you took felt solid, like building blocks for your future together.

As you reach the center of the courtyard, you let your fingers trail along the stone fountain, cool and inviting.

 The water shimmered under the sunlight, mirroring the happiness in your eyes. You turned to Anthony, your heart overflowing with love.

"Can you believe it?" you whispered, your voice filled with awe. "We're married. This is our forever."

Anthony smiled, his eyes locked with yours. 

"Yes, my love," he said softly. 

"This is just the beginning. And I vow to you, every day will be filled with the same satisfaction and devotion as today."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you knew at that moment that your happiness was boundless.

 You glanced around at your guests, your faces glowing with affection and admiration. 

It was then that you realized your love story was not just yours alone.

It was a tale shared with your closest friends and family.

[vivwritesfics]

Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Chapter One

He never had a choice in his life. His dreams were nothing more that that. Dreams. But then he met a lounge singer at his brother club and everything changed.

Mafia!Au

1.2K

Warnings: drugs (not taken), gun violence

Series Masterlist

This wasn't his job. It was beneath him, usually a job for his inexperienced little brother. But Arthur was at home, being looked after by their maman as he nursed a non-fatal gunshot wound.

Charles was pissed as he drove through the streets of Monaco. This was Arthur's job, not his. If he had listened to Charles and Lorenzo, and hadn't run in with guns (quite literally) blazing, they wouldn't be in this position.

The people of Monaco knew about the people who, essentially owned them. They had a royal family, but they didn't have as much Power as the Leclercs. As soon as they saw the black Ferrari SF90 Stradale, they knew to get out of the way.

On this day, the only thing stopping Charles from driving into everybody in his way was his love for his precious car. As soon as he had checked through the clubs, he was going to go to his mamans house and murder Arthur.

Charles parked his car. Well, parked is a term used loosely. He stopped the car wherever he wanted and every other driver on the roads of Monaco had to work around him. This was maybe one of the best demonstrations of power that the Leclerc family had.

When Charles walked into the first club, the twenty six year old was reminded of why he hated it so much. He had loved it when he was a fresh faced eighteen year old, receiving his first assignment from his father.

But now this was Arthurs job, appointed by Lorenzo. He had taken over as head of the family when they lost their father, just a year after Charles had received his first assignment.

The family didn't handle it well. The Leclerc's had almost started a full on war with the Gasly family of France. But Pascale, the matriarch, kept them in check.

The club was disgusting. It was the middle of the day so it was empty, aside from the club manager. The floor was covered in cups and bottles and odd sticky patches that that Charles was sure to avoid. There was the odd condom on the floor; Charles turned his nose up at that.

He checked the books, make sure the money was in order. He swapped out the cash in the safe for the drugs that the club sold. "Get this shithole cleaned up," he commanded the club manager and left.

The second club was much the same. He inspected the books and swapped the money in the safe for the drugs. This club was somehow dirtier than the first one. Several of the stall doors in the bathroom had been kicked in (Charles wasn't happy about leaving money for such things).

The third club Charles knew it be Arthurs favourite.

It wasn't a night club, more like a lounge. The lighting was low, with tables covering the floor. Comfortable, cosy booths lined the walls and the tables in the middle of the of the floor looked equally as comfortable. The art on the wall was tasteful and the air didn't stink like beer and piss.

Soft piano music greeted him and Charles realised why this was Arthurs favourite club. It felt legit.

Charles looked to the piano on the stage at the back of the club. There was a spotlight pointed towards it, illuminating the instrument and the girl playing it. As he approached, Charles watched her fingers dance across the keys. The tune was soft and melodic, not something that he recognised.

She seemed to be the only person in the club. "One second, Arthur!" She called, not looking up from her piano.

Charles stopped short. "I'm sorry?" He called and the piano music stopped. "Are you always familiar with my brother?"

Her eyes were wide as she stood and closed the lid of her grand piano. "Shit," she hissed, but Charles still heard it. "I'm so sorry, Mr Leclerc. I was expecting your brother."

Charles stepped onto the stage. His presence alone was terrifying, a far cry from Arthur, who treated the pianist like an old friend. She couldn't stop her knees from buckling as he approached. "He got shot," Charles said as he sat at the piano. "He'll be back in action soon."

He lifted the lid of the piano and pressed a key. As a boy Chalres had loved the piano. His father had encouraged him to play, but he hadn't touched a piano since Hervé dad passed. Even now, he couldn't bring himself to play more than a few notes.

"Are you the manager here?" Charles asked, again shutting the piano lid. She shook her head, eyes looked towards the bar while he continued to stare at her. "You shouldn't be in here, then."

She sucked in a breath. The gun in his waistband had become apparent the moment he sat at the piano. "Uhm, Arthur gave me a key so that I could come in and practice," she said as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Charles let out something of a controlled huff and stood from the piano. He headed past the stage, to where the office was, and instantly began searching through the desk for the books.

The pianist followed him. "You shouldn't be in here," he said and pulled out the papers he needed. She was still standing in the doorway as he checked through it. "Seriously, get out."

"I'm sorry," she said, still leaning against the door frame. "I just... is Arthur okay?"

Charles stared at her for a moment before nodding his head, but he didn't look happy. "A minor gunshot wound," he said. "He's sleeping on our mouths couch at the moment."

Letting out a relieved breath, she walked away from the back office, allowing Charles to swap the money in the safe for drugs.

When he returned to the main floor, the piano was empty. The lid was open, but the pianist wasn't there. Charles didn't check for where she was.

He sat himself at the piano and pressed three keys in a specific tune. It was all so familiar to him, flooding back to him. It had been so long, but it was natural. It was right.

The pianist, Y/N, was at the bar, getting herself a glass of water. The moment she saw Charles walk to the piano she stopped and watched.

He was hesitant at first, allowing himself to get used to the keys. But it didn't take very long for him to get comfortable. Soon enough he was playing like it was the only thing he knew today.

It wasn't perfect, it was barely good, but it was full of heart and soul. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him as he sped up slightly, getting more and more comfortable. There was nothing in the world but him and the music.

Finishing up the song Charles sucked in and rolled his shoulders. He looked around the club, looked at the empty tables, at the art on the wall and at the bar.

He narrowed his eyes as he stood up and walked over. "Were you watching me?" He demanded and she quickly shook her head, looking down at the glass of water in her hands.

"Don't," he barked and marched out of the club.

Permanent taglist: @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @minkyungseokie @formulaal @darleneslane @andydrysdalerogers @hrts4scarr @llando4norris

[willalove75]

Alcina fic idea/request, it’s totally cool if you don’t wanna do this one, I’ve never requested a fic before

Y/N is her shy personal maiden scared of overstepping, Alcina likes making her react/embarrassed. Alcina’s in a bath with Y/N there to fetch anything she’d need and Alcina pulls her in?

I love this idea!!!! I'm honored that I'm the first person you've requested a fic from!🥺💕 I hope you enjoy it!!

Warnings: Smut, a dash of praise kink, a splash of mommy kink, uh, I think that's it lolll

18+ Only Minors DNI

As the day winded down in Castle Dimitrescu you stood by the Countess during dinner with a wine bottle in you hands, ready to refill her glass whenever it was empty. You're been her handmaiden for a few months now so you're used to the Lady's routine and are privy of the things she prefer. Such as her favorite flavor tea, which soaps and oils she likes to use in the bath when she's stressed, which dresses are her favorite, etc..

Lady Dimitrescu has only had good things to say about your performance, something you're grateful for, but she's still the matriarch of the Castle, one slipup and you're in the dungeon. The dungeon terrified you more than anything else, more than the girls' sadistic antics and more than the Lady's massive claws. Even though you've never been down there before, you've heard screams echo through the castle when the door is open when the girls come in and out. Many of the maids who are sent there return with horrific wounds, if they return at all.

Even though you were grateful that Lady Dimitrescu picked you to be her personal maid, you couldn't help but feel like you were always walking on eggshells. You were always quiet, you kept to yourself and did your work and did it damn well. Now that you're the Lady's handmaid, you feel like you've shrunken into your shell even more.

For the first few weeks in your new position, weren't sure why you shrunk back so much. Yes, she could be terrifying, but there was something else, something you couldn't quite put your finger on. Until the first time you saw her undress, that was. She stood before you in all of her glory, her black lingerie contrasting perfectly against her porcelain skin. You drank in every inch of her, her massive breasts, her waist, her toned belly that still had a softness to it, her wide hips, her perfect ass, her legs that seemed to go on for miles. It was almost impossible to tear your eyes away from her, you were only able to do so when she pulled you out of your trance.

"Do you like what you see, pet?"

That's when it hit you like a ton of bricks. Sure, you were a little afraid of her, but more than that, you had the biggest crush on her. It's only gotten worse since that day. You're not sure if she's picked up on it by now, you've tried to be discreet, but ever since then she's tried to fluster you every chance she gets. It's like a game to her, she's the cat and you're the mouse.

The Countess holds out her wine glass in your direction and you walk up to her outstretched arm. She's currently involved in a conversation with her daughters and isn't paying any attention to you, which normally you'd be more than okay with. But since she's not paying attention, she doesn't realize that she's holding her empty glass over your head. Afraid of overstepping, the last thing you want to do is interrupt her conversation with her daughters to ask her to lower her hand so you look around to see if there's a stool or something you can climb on to to reach.

Bela sees you out of the corner of her eye and does a double take, watching you with amusement as you stare at the glass hovering over your head. She begins to snicker and you look over and make eye contact with her and quickly look down with a small squeak.

Lady Dimitrescu notices Bela giggling and follows her line of sight, leading directly to you. She notices that she's holding the glass too high she chuckles and you look up at her, a blush starting to dust your cheeks.

"My little pet, you could have asked me to lower my glass." She says with a faint laugh as she lowers her arm so you can pour the wine.

"I'm sorry my Lady, I didn't want to interrupt." You say, looking down at the floor after filling her cup.

She puts her glass on the table and puts her knuckle under your chin, lifting your face to look at her.

"Such a sweet, timid little mouse." She says, looking into your eyes.

You can see a hint of amusement in them, as well as something else. Adoration? No, the Countess could never look at you in such a way. You can't quite put your finger on it, but the look is soft and somehow makes you even more flustered than usual.

Once dinner was done Lady Dimitrescu asked you to accompany her to her chambers and assist her with her evening bath.

She sits down at her vanity and you climb onto the step stool behind her and begin removing the pins from her hair. She has the softest hair you've ever felt, which is a little strange given she isn't human, but you don't think about it too much. Her thick, raven curls fall just above her shoulder as you remove the pins. You coil a few of the pieces around your finger where the curls fell out, returning them to their natural shape as you go.

Lady Dimitrescu pauses taking off her makeup for a moment and stares at you through the mirror, watching you as you examine each curl as it falls, she admires the way your eyes shimmer and the little wrinkle that forms between your eyebrows when you're focused. Looking up for a moment, you catch her gaze in the mirror and you feel your face get warm, you immediately look back down and silently finish taking out the last of the hairpins.

She smirks at your reaction and after you take out the last pin and fix the final curl behind her ear, Lady Dimitrescu gently grabs your hand and holds it in hers. You freeze for a moment, staring at her hand wrapped around yours, the coolness of her skin is soothing, especially against your rapidly heating skin. Looking up you meet her gaze in the mirror once more and she looks at you with a kind, almost loving smile.

"I've never had a maiden take such care of my curls before. I hope you know your thoroughness and attention to detail doesn't go unnoticed."

"Th-thank you very much, my Lady."

"The face you make when you're focused is quite adorable, if I say so myself little mouse."

You let out a little squeak, a habit you picked up from your mom, and look back down to her hand over yours. The heat rises to your cheeks and you know they must be bright red.

Lady Dimitrescu turns in her seat to face you, when you look up, you're met with a gorgeous pair of golden eyes.

"Do you know why I call you 'little mouse'?"

You shake your head. "No, my Lady."

"Because of that little squeak you make when you're flustered, it's quite charming."

You try and hold back your squeak but fail, miserably. Lady Dimitrescu laughs and turns back around.

"You can go ahead and unbutton my dress now, little mouse." She says after she turns back around, smirking at you in the mirror.

After you unbutton the dress, Lady Dimitrescu pulls her arms out of the sleeves and stands up, the dress pooling at her feet. As you're about to get down from the step ladder to grab it, she sits again at her vanity.

"Be a dear and unclip my bra for me, pet." Her smirk is gone but she has a look in her eyes you've never seen before. You freeze for a moment, she's never asked you to do this before. With shaky hands, you delicately grab each side of the clip and unhook it. Looking up in the mirror, she holds your gaze as she slowly slides the straps off of her shoulders and pulls the bra away. Her breasts drop a bit from the lack of support and she tosses the bra away. It's taking everything in you to hold her stare, you get the feeling she wants you to look, but you could also just think that because that's what you want her to be thinking.

Lady Dimitrescu stands up and you release a small breath of relief as you climb off of the step ladder and head straight into the bathroom. You fill the massive tub up with warm water and add her favorite soaps and a few drops of her favorite oils. As you're finishing up Lady Dimitrescu walks in, stark naked. Never before have you seen her like this, usually she waits until you're out of the bathroom to take off the rest of her clothes. She's as gorgeous and as sexy as you imagined, honestly even more so. You quickly stare at the ground as she walks further into the bathroom.

"Your bath is ready, my Lady."

She gently cups under your chin and slowly, painfully slowly, raises your gaze up towards her. As your eyes move up, the first thing you notice is that your face is just inches away from her heat, you swear your heart stops for a second. She lifts your chin more and you take in the curves on her hips, her belly, looking up further you can see the underside of her breasts and finally, you lock eyes with her. You can feel your face burning up in her hand, you're sure she can feel it too.

Lady Dimitrescu stares at you for a moment and tucks a dark curl behind her ear before crouching down to your height. When she's at eye level with you, the look in her eyes changes, as if she's admiring a piece of artwork.

"Such a sweet little girl." She says softly, her thumb reaching up and slowly pulling your bottom lip down.

Your heart does a backflip and you squeeze your thighs together. She's been teasing you all night, but that intimate gesture is what really made you wet.

Her nostrils flare for a second and the look in her eyes shifts, her pupils dilate and she quirks an eyebrow softly. She leans in, her lips just barely brushing against the shell of your ear.

"So sweet." She whispers before placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

As she drops her hand and stands up you let out a small squeak and she smirks and steps into the tub. It takes everything in you to not melt into a puddle on her bathroom floor.

"I would like you to do my hair for me please, pet." She says as she lowers herself into the water.

"O-of course my Lady."

Walking around to the back of the tub, you climb onto the steps while Lady Dimitrescu leans back and dunks her hair into the water. She relaxes against the tub while you lather the shampoo into your hands and begin massaging it into her scalp. She gently hums as she closes her eyes, enjoying the soothing sensation. You rinse the shampoo out and add conditioner to the ends of her hair, gently combing it through with a brush, starting from the ends and working your way up. After you rise the conditioner out, you dip your hands into the water to wash the excess soap off.

"Is there anything else you need from me my Lady?" You ask as you pull your hands out of the water.

Lady Dimitrescu grabs one of your wrists and holds you there, bent over the edge of the tub. She turns her shoulders towards you and looks into your eyes for a moment.

"Actually pet, I believe there is something you can assist me with."

"Um, what is it, my Lady?"

"I would like for you to join me, little mouse."

You let out a squeak and stare at her wide-eyed. Did you hear her right? She wants you to bathe with her? Lady Dimitrescu senses your shock and chuckles.

"I know your feelings towards me are, deeper, than just being my handmaid, little mouse." You feel your face turn beet red. "I was quite surprised, but pleasantly so. Since you've been doing such a wonderful job, I want to reward you." She leans in and whispers in your ear. "I also find myself very attracted to you, pet. So, what do you say?"

She gently nibbles your earlobe before she pulls away and instead of a squeak, a small moan escapes from your lips. Lady Dimitrescu practically purrs when she hears you moan and leans back in, placing open mouth kisses on your neck. Your eyes roll back and you let out a few more moans.

"Care to join me?" She whispers in your ear.

"Yes." You breathe.

Lady Dimitrescu turns more in the tub and grabs you by your waist and pulls you into the tub and places you in her lap. You squeak as she pulls you in, maids uniform and all and your heart almost beats out of your chest when she has you straddle her, her breasts practically in your face.

She cradles the back of your head and pulls you into her, her lips are just barely brushing against yours. She holds your there for a moment before placing a soft, tender kiss on your lips. Her lips are softer than you ever imagined them to be, you feel like you're floating as she kisses you.

Pulling away just enough to ghost your lips once more, Lady Dimitrescu looks into your eyes.

"Would you like me to continue, pet?" You nod your head. "Use your words sweet mouse." She coos.

"Yes, please." You breathe.

Her pupils dilate so much her eyes nearly turn black, she pulls you into her and kisses you hard. You feel her tongue caress your bottom lip and you open your mouth more, letting her in. As she's exploring the inside of your mouth with her tongue, you feel a bit of a pull on the back of your uniform and then hear a tearing sound. Lady Dimitrescu extended one of her claws just enough to rip through your clothes. When she's done cutting through them, she pulls them off of you and tosses them away. You can hear the splat of the wet cloth hitting the floor somewhere in the bathroom.

She quickly pulls off your bra and claws through your underwear, leaving you just as naked as she is, your body pressed up against hers. Her lips travel down your jaw to your neck where she continues to kiss and suck up and down it. The hand that's tangled in your hair slowly slides down your body, she palms each of your breasts, taking your nipples between her fingers pinching them and rolling them until they're hardened. Sliding further down your body, her fingers dance across your sternum and head towards you belly, she gently drags her nails down your skin until she reaches your core.

There was a part of you that thought she was going to tease you, but to your surprise she immediately cups your heat, the pads of her fingers making contact with your clit right away. You can't help but throw your head back and do your best to swallow a moan as she rubs circles over it. Her other hand grabs the back of your head as she continues making up your neck.

"Good girl, let me hear those pretty noises you make." She says before picking up the pace.

Her lips travel down a bit to your collarbones and chest and she nips and sucks on your skin, riddling you with love bites. Without realizing it, you start to grind down onto her fingers and she smirks.

"Such an eager little pet." She purrs. "Do you want more?"

"Yes," you moan, "please."

Not a second after the words leave your mouth, she slides her middle finger deep into your core. You cry out in pleasure and you grab onto her shoulders. She thrusts her finger in and out of you a few times before curling it inside of you, making you cry out again. After doing that a few times you begin to buck your hips against her.

"More," you beg. "please, I need more."

Lady Dimitrescu tightens her hold on the back of your hair and slides her finger out of you. Just as you're about to whine from the loss she shoves two fingers into you, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head as you let out a filthy moan. A growl rumbles in her chest when she hears you and thrusts into you harder.

"What a good girl you are, taking my fingers so perfectly, letting me stretch you out so nicely." She says as she sucks on your neck more.

The only thing you can do in response to her praise is moan more and dig your nails a little harder into her. After thrusting in and out of you for a few minutes, her free hand moves down to your hip and she lowers you further onto her lap. Stilling her fingers, she pulls your hips up and back down, picking up the hint, you start to bounce on them. On each reentry she curls them into you hitting all of the right spots that make you see stars.

The harder you slam yourself down onto her fingers, the harder she curls into you and the higher you climb, getting closer and closer to your climax. Slamming down onto them once more, you start grinding your hips into her, bringing yourself closer and closer.

"You're so close my little pet, I can feel you clenching around my fingers." She says. "Do you want mommy to take you over the edge? To make you feel so good?" She coos, which only brings you closer.

"Yes, please!" You cry out. "Fuck me, please fuck me!"

"So vulgar." She teases before sucking on your pulse point for a moment, making you whine.

When she pulls away from your neck, her free hand steadies your hips while you straddle her and she works her fingers in and out of you. Staring off at a bit of a slower pace, she quickly picks it up and in no time she's slamming her fingers in and out of you. Your cries get louder and louder and if you weren't in such a state of bliss right now, you'd be sure that the entire castle can hear you.

The bath water begins to splash over the edge onto the marble floor as she fucks you harder and harder. Your lower abdomen begins to tense up and you feel yourself clenching harder around her fingers.

"Fuck! I'm so close." You cry.

Lady Dimitrescu responds only by going faster and harder. Your climax hits you like a train, ecstasy explodes inside of your body and your eyes roll into the back of your head as you cry out in pleasure. She drags your orgasm out for as long as she possibly can before you practically go limp and fall into her.

She pulls her fingers out of you and holds you close, gently rubbing your back and whispering praises into your ear as the aftershocks rock your body. Each time an aftershock causes you to whimper she places a soft kiss into your hair.

"You did so wonderful little mouse. You looked so beautiful cumming all over my fingers. You did such a good job." She whispers as your heartbeat begins to slow and your breaths even out.

"Thank you, my Lady." You say softly, placing an open mouthed kiss on her neck as your head rests in the crook of it.

Exhaustion begins to take over and you can't seem to fight it. Lady Dimitrescu picks up on it and grabs her soap and washes you and herself. When she's finished, she gets out of the tub with you in her arms and dries the both of you off, carrying you to her bed. Laying you down, she curls up next to you and pulls the covers over the two of you. Her arm wraps around your waist and pulls you closer.

She places a kiss on your forehead and you fight to open your eyes for a moment. Lady Dimitrescu gazes into your tired eyes and you notice that look again, this time you're certain she's looking at you with admiration.

"Go to sleep little mouse." She says, kissing your forehead once more.

Your eyes flutter closed and you think to yourself "I love you."

Lady Dimitrescu watches as you lose the battle to keep your eyes open. Just as you're falling asleep you say "I love you." It was so soft she wouldn't have heard it if she didn't have supersonic hearing. She gently kisses the corner of your mouth and cuddles you into her.

"Goodnight my sweet girl." She whispers before falling fast asleep.

[divine-donna]

a fair trade

pairing: miguel o’hara x gender neutral! reader

word count: 1,010 words

ao3 link: 🕷️🕷️🕷️

summary: your help is needed to defeat a multiversal entity, one that you’ve defeated before. but what can miguel offer in return for your service?

notes: kind of mishmashing the movies and comics together. do not fret if you haven’t read any of them! it’s mostly just referenced (much like how it was referenced in the last post). the fic on ao3 is also locked to registered ao3 users only. it’s a precaution i’m taking in response to ai using ao3 fics to be trained.

“(Y/N), we need your help.”

“Miguel, I’m in the middle of eating lunch. Because, you know, I didn’t have breakfast.”

“That’s on you.”

“Some of us don’t like breakfast.”

“Okay that’s not the point! The point is that we need your help!”

You were just sitting at your table, peacefully. After a mission earlier today, you thought you enjoyed a nice break. All you’ve been doing is going on missions across the multiverse, at the expense of your personal life back home. Your friends missed you and were constantly wondering why you would dip all of a sudden. After all, it wasn’t like you to just...cancel last minute. You loved your friends. You always made sure to be there. What you didn’t expect when accepting Miguel’s invitation was to be worked constantly. There was always a multiversal threat at stake, even for something small.

You were literally the local expert on the multiverse. Small things wouldn’t cause catastrophe. But Miguel believed they would. He believed in a domino effect. You believed that it was necessary to stay vigilant but not every small thing required attention. Sometimes the multiverse acted weird. It was a multiverse. It acted on its own accords.

“Miguel, is it actually something to worry about? Or is it something like the Vulture ended up in the wrong reality which can be cleaned up without my help?” You took a sip of your drink.

“It’s someone by the name of Verna. And she’s brought with her an army.”

“Verna? Never heard of her.” You shake your head.

“Really? She claims she’s fought you before.”

“If I saw a picture, then maybe I would recognize her.”

Miguel doesn’t hesitate. “Lyla.”

Part of you wondered what it would be like if your name was always on the tip of his tongue, ready to speak on a moment’s notice. You always wanted someone who could say your name with such ease, who thought of you constantly.

“Already on it.” Lyla pulls up a video. “This is live footage of the whole thing. We’re lucky she hasn’t spread her destruction further.”

As you were taking a sip of your drink, you choked on the liquid. Thankfully, you did not die. “We need you alive (Y/N).” Miguel says.

“I thought I banished her to the ends of the Multiverse!” You exclaimed.

“So you have fought her?” Lyla questions. “Was this the multiversal being you battled before?”

“She’s the reason I have no magic!” You crush the metal cup in your hand. “It took everything for me to banish her! And she just comes...comes back like nothing happened?” You squint a little. “She also looks a lot different than I remember. You said her name was Verna?” Lyla and Miguel look at each other before nodding. “She went by a different name. Called herself the Matriarch of...something. I don’t remember.”

“All the more reason for you to finish up and join us.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I lost my appetite.” You picked up the dishes and cleaned out the plates, dropping them off with the conveyor belt of dirty dishes. “You owe me Miguel.”

“Owe you what?”

“A break. Like a real break. My body needs to properly recuperate, you know.”

He inputs the numbers and opens the portal. “I can do that. You’ve done good work so far.”

“Exactly. Not getting paid here.”

“None of us get paid.”

“It was a joke. You know, Peter was right. You’re like the only one of us that isn’t funny.”

“That’s hilarious.” His voice did not change in tone and his facial expressions did not give away that he was humored.

“Lighten up a little. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re extra stoic because you want to kiss me.”

“I do not want to kiss you.”

“Everyone wants to kiss me.”

He looks at you, eyebrow slightly raised. “You should pay me in kisses actually. Think that’d be a fair deal. I help you guys stop Verna, again, and I get a kiss. It’d be the perfect reward.”

You feel his gaze on you. “It’s a joke, I promise. You don’t have to actually.” Even if you did want to kiss him.

He takes a step towards you, much to your surprise. His hand reaches up, fingers curled slightly, and his knuckles graze the skin of your cheeks. It’s reassuring in a way and his touch is gentle. It reminds you of when you first joined, how his fingers gently wiped away the crumbs at your face. His hand uncurls and cups your face. “How badly do you want a kiss?” He asks.

His voice made your legs shake. “If I answered that I think you’d make fun of me.”

“I mean...it’s a simple yes or no question.”

“Yes?”

You weren’t expecting his lips to crash against yours. The sheer force almost causes you to fall over and your hands fumble to grip onto his body. You could feel his muscles flex beneath his suit. You kiss him back, but most certainly not with the same amount of force he does. Miguel even goes as far to nip your bottom lip, causing a small gasp to emerge from your throat. It was a little embarrassing and your cheeks grew warm. He pulls away, satisfied and with that cocky smirk on his face.

“Make it back alive and I’ll give you another.” He puts his mask on. “Maybe even more.”

“You...have a lot of confidence that I will.” You were out of breath. Very much out of breath.

“You’ve beaten the odds before. It’s part of who we are.”

Miguel walks through the portal and you clench your hands for a few seconds. You were nervous. It wasn’t just the kiss that made you nervous (though your heart certainly was pumping for that reason primarily). Lyla looked at you with a smile. “You better come back. Or else I’ll lose the primary thing I make fun of him for.”

“I’ll try Lyla. For you.”

“Sure, sure. Now get going before people die.”

[hugheses]

ellen weinberg

a lot of people online like to praise her because they love her kids, but before she was mama hughes, ellen weinberg was an even more accomplished athlete than her wikipedia page can tell you. well i have way too much time on my hands and an affinity for googling things, so here is a not-so-little primer on the matriarch of hockey who has contributed far more than just her superstar children.

(basically anything not sourced is from the cammi & aj podcast i have a transcript of)

born in st. louis, she was told she couldn't play hockey because girls couldn't play on boys teams in the state of missouri, and there were no girls teams. went to bob johnson's hockey camp in aspen at age 7. moved to dallas at age 8, where she was allowed to play on the boys team. at age 12, is featured in a news clip "girl hockey player" where she says she wants to one day play professional hockey.

at 15, wins nationals with her U-19 soccer team, the dallas sting, and they are sent to represent the US in the first ever FIFA-sanctioned world women’s tournament in china and proceeded to win gold against all expectations becoming the first US team to win any international soccer competition, male or female. also on this team was her best friend, future woso legend carla werden (overbeck). 1, 2

other noteworthy teammates: she played with mia hamm on her state team and was roommates with brandi chastain at her first youth national team camp for soccer.

she was recruited to lots of top schools for soccer, but chose the university of new hampshire because it was also offering hockey. she describes this as "the lack of landscape really drove my next move" because there was only 31 D1 women's soccer programs in the country at the time, and none in the state of texas.

she reached out to the women's hockey coach at unh, russ mccurdy, and told him she was being recruited for soccer but was really coming to unh because she wanted to play hockey, and he told her that it was unlikely she would make the team. so bob johnson called and asked him to give her a shot, and he said ok. he allowed her to have a one week tryout once soccer season was over, and after the first day, he asked, "what size skates do you wear?" and that was it, she was on the team.

the women's soccer coach, marge anderson, was also a lacrosse player, and encouraged ellen to join the lacrosse team that needed more players. so she did. in her own words:

"I wasn't very good. I could run, but my stick skills- and I learned and I did everything, and it was great, and we went to the Final Four, but I was out at that point. So everybody always says I played three sports like, I was on the team. I was, you know, three sports at that level. I was done at that point and I stuck with soccer and hockey after my first year. But it was a really cool experience."

she may have not been very good but she did go on to coach her own kids teams in lacrosse (and potentially owen power, who is confirmed to have played lacrosse with them but it is not confirmed that it was when she coached them)

(she was #21)

she was an elite skater and creative player, and "would often find herself in trouble in Durham for rushing the puck from her defensive post or trying things like a spin-o-rama".

she helped UNH win 3 hockey championships in 4 years, made the all-new england team (soccer) as a freshman, was named an unh athlete of the year finalist after an injury that kept her out for an entire school year, was named to the ECAC all star team, was an ISAA senior recognition award winner, was soccer co-captain in 1990, and then captain of both the soccer and hockey teams as a senior X

in april 1991, she participated in the Eastern Regional Tryouts of the US National Women's Hockey Team

"We've got it pretty good, playing defense," says senior Ellen Weinberg to fellow defenseman Weston. "There aren't as many of us to choose from. But then, when you look at who's there, they're all good!"

she then went on to pursue a graduate degree at UNH where she was an assistant coach for both soccer and hockey for two years, all the while contributing to historical hockey research to the point that she is named in the acknowledgements of Hockey: A Global History by Hardy & Holman

“It was my way of staying involved because I had nowhere to play. Then I participated in the 1992 World Championship, finished my master's degree. Then I really had nowhere to play." (google translated)

The New Hampshire Vol. 83 No. 18 (Nov. 6 1992)

then in 1992, she played for the women's national team in both soccer and hockey.

the soccer team didn't play in any big tournaments that year, but for hockey she went to women's worlds in tampere, finland, where she was an alternate captain. the US won silver, with ellen scoring 3 or 4 assists in 5 games (depending on which source you believe) and ellen was named to the all-star team by the media as the top player in her position.

also in 1992, she was a power skating coach at the summerland female hockey academy, teaching future star hayley wickenheiser.

there was hope that women's hockey would be a part of the 1994 olympics, but when that didn't happen, ellen went to norway anyways to grow the game.

“They were hoping women’s hockey was going to be sanctioned in the ‘94 Olympics and it wasn’t, so the Norwegian ice hockey federation had all this extra funding so they asked USA Hockey for an ambassador to go over and help grow the women’s game,” she said. “We had played in the ’92 World Championships and I was one of the older people and they offered me that opportunity to go over and work with the Norwegian ice hockey federation and what I did was I lived in Oslo. “And I went around to all the little towns and taught the girls how to play. It was awesome. Since Norway was such a small country with four million people at the time, they needed all the buses during the Olympics so everyone went on holiday, so my job stopped for three weeks.” X

ELLEN WEINBERG of Boston and the University of New Hampshire was interested in Coach TIM TAYLOR's tactics at practice. The 25-year-old Weinberg, one of America's best female players, is advising Norway's women's teams. Women's hockey becomes an Olympic sport in 1998. "They complain in Norway that I coach too long on the ice," she said. "They should see this guy, always instructing." X

she was invited to camp in lake placid for the 1994 women’s worlds (which took place every two years then), but suffered a serious knee injury that she believes is because they didn’t have proper support/training facilities

“We didn’t have a gym at the time. It was so different. We just played relying on our athletic instincts. If I got injured, it’s probably because I didn’t have the ideal support,” (google translated) X 

by 1996 she was playing for the itech blaiders roller hockey team in NJ (and her then-boyfriend, jim, was coaching the new jersey rockin’ rollers) while also working in broadcasting

she had been considered a lock for the nagano olympics, despite being “old” but that “blown-out knee effectively ended her competitive career” :( 

she ended up in nagano anyways as a reporter for cbs, one of her first big gigs in her media career, which i can do a part 2 on if there's interest.

and currently she’s on the USA hockey foundation board and is a player development consultant for the women’s national team