#Efficient Contract Handling

[nexdigm]

Nexdigm Contract Management Services: Streamlining Processes for Efficient Business Operations

Optimize your business operations with Nexdigm's Contract Management Services. Our expert Business Process Management ensures streamlined and efficient handling of contracts. From creation to compliance, we provide tailored solutions for effective contract lifecycle management. Elevate your organizational efficiency with Nexdigm's professional services in Business Process Management - transforming the way you manage contracts for seamless operations and enhanced productivity.

[castleintheskye]

My job and area are very out of scope of the cuts being done by do/ge, but I got an email today from one of my vendors that an entire testing department is being shut down because they relied on Medicare funding.

[ms-demeanor]

I don't know how to say it so that people will listen, but if you work at a business you should just accept that *unless your literal job is being the only one who handles wire transfers and you are professionally engaged ONLY in verifying that money is being transferred correctly* any request to wire someone money is a scam.

Our client is working with a company called (anonymized for internet example purposes) "Anaheim Sales" and have been communicating with them at their email, which is, deeply unfortunately, anaheimsales@aim.com

Client has been told by Anaheim Sales to send a check in the mail. They put the check in the mail, then get an email from anahiemsales@aol.com requesting a wire transfer instead. They cancel the check and they wire the money.

Now. A huge part of this is Anaheim Sales' fault. Buy a domain, dipshits. Your business email shouldn't be going to a gmail aim yahoo outlook whatever ass address, it should be going to YOURNAME@YOURDOMAIN.COM because it's a lot harder to scam your clients when you have to purchase YOURDOMIAN.COM than it is to scam them by setting up YOURNAAME@aol.com.

But also. They never should have wired the money. Even if it HAD been from bobsmith@anaheimsales.com, Bob's email could have been compromised. Even if it's in an industry where wiring money isn't something that happens only once in a blue moon.

If you are working at a business and you get a request for a wire transfer, you NEED to make sure that you speak to someone from the requesting business who you either know personally or who you reached by calling a known number for that business (KNOWN NUMBER from your vendor/client records; not from an email signature, and not from their website). If I were allowed to make all the rules, you wouldn't be allowed to make a wire transfer without a notarized request from the accounts payable department of the vendor.

This will slow down the transfer. It will make things take longer. But nobody doing legitimate business with you is going to be pissed if you take a couple extra hours to verify that they are actually making that request before you send them tens of thousands of dollars. If someone is yelling at you that you need to send the money NOW, that is actually when you need to stop and back away and escalate to your boss or get someone else from the requesting company on the phone.

"They said the contact I knew was out sick" cool don't send the money, if your known contact is not available you require a notarized request from one of the company's officers.

"They said they'd cancel the contract if we didn't get it out by this afternoon" then let them cancel you can re-sign a contract, even with a penalty, but you can't get that money back.

"They said that THEIR business was tied up and they couldn't do anything because they didn't have the payment and the check would take days to clear" sounds like a them problem; unless you get a signed, notarized request for a wire transfer you will not be sending a wire transfer.

And if you are a business owner you need to give your employees unlimited permission to say "yeah this sounds like bullshit I need to verify before I move forward" to anything that is even slightly suspicious. Your employees should NEVER be worried that they'll get fired if they say no to wiring money. You should give them a fucking bonus if they cause a delay in getting a *legitimate* wire payment transferred because they needed to get confirmation.

Wire transfers need to be a last resort, and you need to have policies in place that make them extremely cumbersome to use. The fact that wire transfers are immediate, efficient, convenient, and irreversible is WHY they're such a common way to scam people.

Also ffs please please please just set up a real website for your business there are cheap and easy ways to do it that will mean your clients are less easily targeted by scammers because they know that your email address isn't at *AOL INSTANT MESSENGER DOT COM*

[ponderingmoonlight]

HEYYYY so i dont really know if u write this stuff but i was wondering if u could do like toji/jjk men and their reaction when the reader goes into labour?? ❤️❤️

JJK men when you go into labor

Pairings: Toji x fem!reader; Geto x fem!reader; Gojo x fem!reader; Sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,3k

Warnings: yk...birth, this is basically the same scenario for 3k words straight lol, never gave birth myself so idk if this is accurate 🥹

Toji Fushiguro

The day started like any other. Well, as normal as it can be when you’re nine months pregnant.

You are in the kitchen, trying to decide between a cup of tea or a snack, when a sharp, unmistakable pain shoots through your abdomen. You gasp, clutching the edge of the counter for support as the realization hits you with full force:

This is it. The baby is coming.

“Toji!” you call out, your voice trembling as another wave of pain rolls through you.

You hear the rustle of a newspaper being set down and the heavy footsteps of your husband approaching from the living room.

“Toji…” you try to keep calm, but the panic in your voice is unmistakable.

The man is a fortress, rarely showing any emotion beyond his usual stoic demeanor, but when he sees your expression, something shifts in his eyes. The usually cool, collected Toji Fushiguro is now all business.

Without a word, he’s right by your side, one strong arm wrapping around your waist to support you. His other hand comes up to gently tilt your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“How long have you been feeling this?” he questions, his voice steady, though you can hear the underlying tension.

“Just started,” you manage to reply through gritted teeth.

Another contraction hits, and you instinctively grip his arm, digging your nails into his skin for support.

Toji doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he simply nods, assessing the situation with the same precision he would use in a fight.

“Alright. We’re going to the hospital now. I’ll get the bag.”

He guides you to the couch, making sure you are seated comfortably before he disappears down the hall. You can hear the faint sound of drawers being opened and closed, and within moments, he’s back with the hospital bag slung over his shoulder.

Toji lifts you into his arms effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as he carries you to the car. His movements are quick but careful. And even though he’d never admit it, you can feel the tension in his body, a rare vulnerability in a man who’s usually so unshakable.

As he settles you into the passenger seat, he leans down, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

“You’re strong. You can handle this, babe” he mutters, his voice firm but with an edge of softness that he rarely shows.

The drive to the hospital is swift as usual, Toji weaving through traffic with the same precision he uses in combat. But his now soft hand never leaves yours, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your skin as if trying to soothe both your pain and his own worry.

“You’re doing great,” he murmurs, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

His jaw is set, the muscles on his neck visible tense. And yet his voice is calm, grounding you during your fear and pain.

When you finally arrive at the hospital, Toji is all efficiency. He barks orders at the staff, making sure everything is ready for your arrival with all their attention on you. Despite the situation, his grip on your hand is firm, his presence unwavering while he stays by your side through every step.

In the delivery room, as the pain intensifies, you squeeze his hand to death, your nails biting into his now injured skin. Toji doesn’t do so much as flinch, his focus entirely on you.

“Breathe,” he reminds you whenever you need to hear it, his voice steady and commanding.

You manage to look up at him between contractions. And for a brief moment, you see something in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before.

Fear.

It’s fleeting, quickly replaced by his usual determination, but it was there, a reminder that beneath his tough exterior and his sometimes sharp tone towards you, Toji cares more than he’ll ever admit.

As the contractions grow stronger, Toji’s calm exterior begins to crack. He isn’t panicking, but you can see the worry etched into his features, the way his grip tightened just slightly every time you cry out in pain.

“You’re almost there,” he murmurs, his voice gruff but soothing.

“Just a little longer.”

When the final push comes and the cries of your newborn fill the room, you see Toji’s shoulders relax ever so slightly through wet lashes. When he looks down at you, a small and rare smile tugs on the corner of his usual so neutral lips. Those lips you’ll never get tired of kissing. Those lips who can be used as a weapon, those lips that do in fact hurt you from time to time. You know this relationship can be toxic, that Toji Fushiguro isn’t the definition of a dream husband.

But at this very moment, with glistening eyes set on you and that smile forming on his face, you can think of nothing else.

“You did it,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with something that almost sounds like awe.

When the nurse places the baby in your arms, Toji’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Get some rest, babe.”

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your new family and with your eyelids slowly but surely growing heavy, you see a side of Toji that he rarely let anyone see: a man who is strong but also deeply, fiercely protective of the people he loves.

Especially you.

Suguru Geto

The afternoon sunlight filters through the curtains when you sit on the couch, folding the last of the baby clothes that Suguru insisted on organizing earlier that morning. You smile to yourself, thinking about how fussy he was, making sure everything was in its place for the baby’s arrival.

You feel a twinge in your lower abdomen, brushing it off as one of the many discomforts that accompanied the last few weeks of pregnancy. But the pain returns just a few seconds later, sharper this time. Your face turns pale when realization hits you with full force.

This isn’t just another cramp. Those are contractions.

“Suguru…” you call out, trying to keep your voice steady as another wave of pain washes over you.

Panic starts to creep in, even though you try to push it down. You need to stay calm, need to make your way to the hospital to finally deliver that baby.

Suguru appears in the doorway almost instantly, his usually serene expression replaced with pure concern as he crosses the room to your side.

“What is it? Are you alright?” he asks with gentle and yet tensioned voice.

“I think it’s time,” you whisper, clutching your belly when another contraction hit, more intense than the last.

“I think… I’m in labor.”

Labor.

For a moment, Suguru’s eyes widen, a rare flash of panic crossing his features. But as quickly as it came, it vanishes into his usual calm composure.

He kneels beside you, taking your hand in his, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin.

“Alright,” he replies softly, his voice like a balm to your frayed nerves.

“We’ll get through this. Let me get everything ready.”

Suguru stands and moves with a quiet efficiency, grabbing the hospital bag and making sure you have everything you need. You watch him, your heart swelling with love and gratitude for this man who, despite the panic of the situation, is doing everything he can to keep you calm.

Until another contraction hits you like a truck.

He’s back at your side in no time, helping you to your feet with a gentle touch.

“Lean on me,” he instructs softly, wrapping an arm around your waist to support you while you make your way to the car.

The drive to the hospital is surreal. Suguru’s hand never leaves yours, his presence a constant source of comfort. He speaks softly to you the entire time, his voice a steady rhythm that you can focus on, grounding you through coming and going contractions.

“You’re doing amazing,” he repeats over and over, his tone filled with quiet admiration.

You try to focus on his words, his calm demeanor helping to ease some of your anxiety. Suguru is always the calm in your storm, the one who can bring you back to center no matter how chaotic things are. And now, when the reality of labor starts to set in, you are more grateful than ever for his steady presence.

When you arrived at the hospital, Suguru springs into action immediately, helping you out of the car and into a wheelchair with the same gentle care he always shows. He stays close as the nurses wheel you into the delivery room, his hand never leaving yours.

As the contractions grow stronger, you find yourself gripping his hand tighter, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Suguru is right there with you, his voice a constant source of comfort.

“Breathe, love,” he whispers, his tone soothing.

“You’re doing so well.”

Despite the pain you find yourself focusing on his voice, letting it guide you through each contraction. Suguru’s presence is like a lifeline, grounding you in the midst of the pain and chaos. He always remains close, his forehead resting gently against yours as he whispers words of encouragement in your ear.

“You’re almost there,” he murmurs softly.

“Just a little more, and we’ll meet our baby.”

As the final push comes, you could feel Suguru’s grip on your hand tighten, his breath catching in his throat while watching you bring your child into the world. Within the next second, the sound of your baby’s first cry fills the room, and the first thing you see are tears glistening in Suguru’s eyes.

“You did it,” he breathes out, his voice thick with emotion as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re incredible.”

The nurse places your baby in your arms and Suguru’s hand comes to rest gently on the tiny head, his expression softening as he looks down at your child.

“Welcome to the world,” he whispers, his voice filled with so much love for that little creature that makes your heart swell.

Satoru Gojo

You are lounging on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position, which honestly seems impossible at this stage of pregnancy. Satoru is in the kitchen, probably making another one of his infamous midnight snacks. The two of you spent the day preparing for the baby’s arrival, but you didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

Out of nowhere, a sharp pain shoots through your abdomen, stealing your breath. You hold onto your belly, realization dawning on you as the pain increases more and more.

“Satoru!” you call out, your voice laced with urgency.

Almost instantly, Satoru appears in the doorway, a sandwich in one hand and a look of confusion on his face.

“What’s up?” he asks casually.

But when he sees the expression on your face, his carefree demeanor falters in an instant.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“I think… I think it’s time,” you manage to press out, your voice trembling as another contraction hits.

You see the color drain from his face for a split second before his usual grin appears bac on his face.

“Oh, it’s go time!” he exclaims, dropping the sandwich onto the counter and rushing over to you.

“Alright, don’t worry, babe. I’ve got this. I’ll just finish that sandwich later,”

You can’t help but laugh despite the pain.

“You…You really think about that sandwich now?”

 He helps you to your feet, his hands warm and steady as he guides you toward the door.

“Sure babe. Just breathe, okay? I’ll have you at the hospital in no time.”

He scoops you up with ease, carrying you to the car like you weigh nothing. As he settles you into the passenger seat, he is all smiles, though you could see the flicker of nervousness in his eyes.

“You ready for this?” he questions, his voice filled with excitement.

The drive to the hospital is a blur of lights and Satoru’s voice, a constant stream of chatter meant to distract you from the pain and Backstreet Boys crying out of the radio. He weaves through traffic with an ease that only he can manage, glancing over at you every few seconds while humming.

“You’re doing amazing, babe. Just keep breathing.”

You squeeze his hand tightly, trying to focus on his voice as another contraction hits. Satoru’s grip tightens in response, and you can see the concern creeping into his usually carefree expression.

But he still keeps talking, trying to keep you calm with jokes, stories and boy bands, anything to make you smile.

When you finally arrive at the hospital, Satoru is out of the car in a flash, helping you out and into a wheelchair with a surprising amount of gentleness. He holds your hand tightly as the nurses wheel you inside.

In the delivery room, Satoru stays by your side, his usual humor tempered by a seriousness you rarely saw.

“You’ve got this,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from your face while you brace for another contraction.

“You’re the strongest person I know.”

Despite the pain, you manage a small smile. You, the strongest?

“No, you’re the strongest”, you press out.

He simply beams down at you while shrugging in a playful way. Satoru might joke around a lot, but in moments like this, you know you can count on him to be there for you.

As the labor progresses, you find yourself leaning on him more and more, his voice the only thing grounding you through the pain. Satoru’s grip on your hand never wavers, even when you squeeze it hard enough to leave marks.

“Just a little more, babe,” he purrs, his forehead pressed against yours as he helps you through the final push.

“You’re almost there.”

When your baby’s cries finally fill the room, you see the tension leave Satoru’s body all at once. He looks down at you, a wide grin spreading across his face, his eyes shining with tears he will never admit to.

“We did it,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion.

As the nurse placed your baby in your arms, Satoru’s hand comes to rest gently on the tiny head, his expression one of pure awe.

“Hey there, little one,” he hushes softly.

You looked up at him, tears in your own eyes when you see the way he looks at your child:

With all the love and devotion he usually tries to hide behind jokes and smiles.

In that moment, you know that Satoru will be the best father, just as he’s the best partner.

“Now…are you in the mood for a sandwich?”

“Babies aren’t allowed to eat sandwiches, idiot.”

Ryomen Sukuna

You are lying in bed like you did those pasts days, trying to ignore the discomfort nagged at you all day. Ryomen Sukuna sits across the room, his crimson eyes watching you with a mixture of boredom and curiosity.

He was never one to show much concern, but you noticed the way his gaze had lingered on you more often as your due date approached.

Then, without warning, a sharp, intense pain shoots through your abdomen, making you gasp. You clutch at your belly, the realization hitting you hard.

“Sukuna…” you manage to whisper, your voice strained.

He’s by your side in an instant, faster than you ever saw him move.

“What is it?” he questions, his voice low and dangerous, as if he’s ready to eliminate whatever was causing you pain.

“I think… I think it’s happening,” you press out, trying to keep your voice steady as another contraction hits.

“The baby is coming.”

For a moment, Sukuna’s eyes narrow, his usual arrogance replaced by something you can’t quite place.

“So, it begins,” he mutters more to himself than to you.

Without another word, he lifts you into his arms, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle.

“You’re not going to die from this, are you?” he comments, a hint of irritation in his voice, though you know him well enough to recognize the concern beneath it.

You manage a weak smile.

“No, I’m not going to die.”

“Good,” he mutters, his tone gruff as he carries you out of the room.

“I won’t tolerate weakness from the woman birthing my child.”

Despite his harsh words, you can feel the tension in his body radiating from his firm muscles, the way his grip tightens ever so slightly when you wince in pain. Sukuna was always a creature of power and control, and the fact that he can’t do anything to stop your pain seems to frustrate him.

How ironic.

He carries you outside, where a car waits - something he arranged without you even realizing it. Sukuna isn’t usually one to rely on human conveniences, but for you, he obviously made an exception.

“A car?”

“Shut up, brat. Teleporting us into the hospital might be too dangerous. I…I don’t know much about a pregnancy…”

“I can tell that.”

The drive to the hospital is silent, save for the sound of your labored breathing and the occasional growl from Sukuna when you tense in pain. He sits beside you, his eyes never leaving your face, watching you with an intensity that borders on obsessive.

When you finally arrived at the hospital, Sukuna carries you inside, ignoring the shocked looks from the staff as he barks orders at them. His presence is intimidating, and no one dares question him as he demands the best care for you.

In the delivery room, Sukuna stays close, his usual arrogance tempered by something you rarely saw in him - worry.

“You’re stronger than this,” he tells you, his voice low and commanding as you fight through another contraction.

“You will not be defeated by something as trivial as childbirth.”

His words are harsh, but you can hear the underlying concern, the way his eyes soften ever so slightly when you cry out in pain. Sukuna was never one to show weakness, but in this moment, you can see that he’s in fact afraid. Afraid of losing you, afraid of something happening that he can’t control. Him, the king of curses, not in charge for this situation?

As the labor progresses, you find yourself relying on his strength, his presence a strange comfort in the midst of the pain. Sukuna’s hand find yours, his grip firm and unyielding, as if he tries to share his power with you, to keep you grounded in the storm of pain that washes over you.

“You will get through this,” he growls, his voice filled with an authority that doesn’t allow another argument.

“You are mine, and I will not let anything happen to you.”

When the final push comes, you can feel Sukuna’s grip tighten, his breath hitching as your baby’s cries echo through the room. He looks down at you, his eyes wide with something that might be shock. Or perhaps awe? You are too exhausted and filled with emotions to care.

“You did it,” he murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he looks at the tiny, wriggling form in your arms.

“You really did it.”

For a moment, Sukuna is silent, staring down at the baby with an expression you’ve never seen before - an almost hesitant curiosity.

Slowly and hesitating, he reached out, his large hand resting gently on the baby’s dark head.

“This… is ours,” he mutters, his voice filled with a strange mix of pride and possessiveness.

You nod, tears filling your eyes as you looked up at him.

“Yes, ours.”

He might be the king of curses, a being of immense power and cruelty, but in this moment, he is also a father, and you know that he’ll protect you and your child with everything he has.

Tags:

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[myloveer0]

Caught in the Act

Ambessa medarda x Fem!reader x Sevika

Ambessa x Sevika

🔥🔥🔥❤️❤️❤️

⚠️warning contain smut⚠️

Summary: As Ambessa Medarda’s secretary, delivering bad news was part of the job—but interrupting her day off? A nightmare. When she didn’t answer the door, you made the reckless decision to enter her penthouse uninvited. What you found inside was not what you expected.

A secret. A scandal. A side of your boss you never imagined.

This is my fav ship in the show. Ambessa x Sevika. My mind is wild making this!! But anyway enjoy....

Part I

The elevator ride to the top floor was silent. You watched the numbers on the panel climb, each second dragging before the occasional ding shattered the silence. Your grip tightened around the folder in your arms—the one containing a crucial document that needed your boss’s immediate response.

You had been Ambessa Medarda’s secretary for five years, and if there was one thing you knew so much about your boss, was that she's a perfectionist, she did not tolerate incompetence. Yet, now you had made a grave mistake. A crucial document—one she needed to sign—had completely slipped your mind. And now, here you were, standing outside her penthouse on a Sunday—her day off.

Way to go, self. You’re dead the second she lays eyes on you.

This wasn’t like you. You were a competent secretary—sharp, efficient, the kind people envied for your flawless work. The very reason why you survive for five years. Damn perfect at your job. But ever since your twelve-year-old cat was sent to the vet, you’d been struggling to balance everything while taking care of him.

And now, here you were.

If this had been something minor, you would have brushed it aside—waited until tomorrow to deal with it. But it wasn’t. This was a million-dollar contract. People’s jobs were on the line—their livelihoods. Your job. Maybe even your life. The last thing you needed was to be fired and left jobless in this economy.

You reached her door—the only room at the top of the building. A sleek black panel with a high-tech lock. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but your heart pounded mercilessly against your ribs. You felt like shit.

Your boss wasn’t just strict—she was ruthless. A demon hiding behind that beautiful face, a wolf in silk and steel. She's the scariest woman you know, and now, you were about to knock on her door with nothing but a mistake and an apology.

Swallowing hard, you pressed the doorbell.

Silence.

You waited, adjusting your posture, trying to calm the nerves. You rang again.

Still nothing.

"Madam Medarda?" you called out, voice firm but edged with hesitation.

You rang the doorbell. No response.

Frowning, you tried again, letting you knuckles rap against the sleek surface door this time. You glance at the camera at the ceiling waving your hand hoping it would grab her attention.

“Madam Medarda? It’s me.”

Silence.

You checked the time. You couldn't afford to wait. The deadline was closing in, and without her signature, the entire deal could collapse. If only they didn't have a persistent business partner this time. Urgh..

A sigh escaped you as you reached into your pocket, pulling out the spare key she had entrusted you with for emergencies. This certainly counted as one. Your fingers hesitated on the handle—Madam Medarda valued her privacy, and even with her trust, stepping into her home uninvited felt like crossing a line.

But you had no choice.

Sliding the key in, you turned the lock. The door clicked open. The first thing you noticed was her favorite red heels. She was here. Then why wasn’t she answering?

You step inside. The penthouse was a world of its own—immaculate, luxurious, the kind of wealth most people could only dream of. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in soft, warm light, the midnight skyscraper stretching endlessly beyond the glass. The air smelled faintly of expensive cologne and aged whiskey, a scent that clung to the very essence of the woman who lived here. No matter how many times you had been here, you could never quite get used to it.

You closed the door behind you, your heels muffled by the plush rug as you ventured further in. "Madam Medarda?" you called again, your voice echoed back by the sheer space of the place.

Still nothing.

Your grip on the folder tightened. Where was she?

Your mind raced back to her schedule. Sunday—empty. She had specifically told you yesterday that she would be here, and didn’t want to be disturbed. You wouldn’t have even thought about coming if she had just picked up her phone. You have emailed her the soft copy but didn't get any response, and her phone had been silent.

It wasn’t like her.

Your mind ran through possibilities as you checked the kitchen—pristine, untouched. The gym where she mostly spend her free time, training. But now, the room was empty. The punching bag hung still, the dumbbells neatly racked. The scent of faint sweat and metal lingered, but it was clear no one had been here for hours.

Your unease grew.

You checked her office next. Papers were stacked in perfect order. Even the chair was pushed in as though she had left everything undisturbed.

It was too empty. Every space you searched empty. Maybe she was really out?

That left only one place.

Your gaze lifted toward the mezzanine floor above. The master bedroom.

Your fingers curled around the folder in your hands hesitating, it felt invasive, disrespectful even, but… what if something had happened? She wouldn’t ignore an emergency. Taking a breath, you steeled yourself and ascended the staircase, each step echoed. Reaching the top, you hesitated before the door.

Then, with quiet resolve, swallowing, you knocked lightly.

“Madam Medarda?”

Silence.

Your pulse quickened.

You knocked again, louder this time. “Madam, it’s me.”

Still nothing.

You didn’t have the courage to open the door. This was her personal space—crossing that boundary felt wrong. She also strictly instructed that no one is allowed inside. But what if something had happened to her? She was an older woman, in her sixties, even if she looked nothing like it. What if she had tripped in the bathroom? Had a heart attack or something?

Your eyes widened with concern.

Your heart pounded as you pushed the bedroom door open, half-expecting. But the room was just as pristine as the rest of the penthouse. No boss.

It was your first time seeing her bedroom. Black and deep red dominated the space, a striking contrast of power and luxury. The king-sized bed was immaculately made, the silk sheets untouched. Heavy velvet curtains were drawn back, revealing the vast cityscape below. And oh god it smell so good in here.

But there was no sign of your boss.

Your breath hitched as you hurried toward the en-suite bathroom, pushing the door open with mounting anxiety.

Empty.

You exhaled, relief washing over you. Maybe she was just out. Maybe she was with friends.

…Wait.

Does she even have friends?

You checked your watch—8:10 PM. Where the hell could she be?

Your grip tightened around the folder in your hands. The document needed her signature before ten, but you still had a few arrangements to make after that.. You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to stay calm. Pulling out your phone, you redialed her number, pacing back and forth. The call rang, but there was still no answer. The silence only made your anxiety spike further.

Then—something caught your eye. A faint glimmer of light, just at the corner of the room.

Your brows furrowed as you glanced around. The room was empty—so it was just you in here. Is that a camera? Your heels clicked against the floor as you turned toward it. Small, barely noticeable, but it was there. But the way it flickered against the dim lighting grabbed your attention. Should you leave it? Maybe you were overstepping—prying into things that weren’t your business. You should stop being nosy and just leave the room. Focus on finding her.

But your feet stayed planted.

Curiosity gnawed at you. Beside what worse could it be? right?

Slowly, you pulled the cabinet open.

But the moment your eyes registered what you were looking at, your entire body froze. Your jaw dropped. The folder in your hands slipped through your fingers, hitting the floor with a quiet thud.

“Holy—” You barely managed to stifle the curse, slapping a hand over your mouth as heat rushed to your face.

Rows of neatly arranged sex toys filled the cabinet. Leather, silicone, metal—each item meticulously placed, organized by size, color, and, judging by the different harnesses folded at the side.

Mostly strap-ons… and there were so many. And was perfectly maintained.

You blinked. Then blinked again, your body paralyze as if maybe your brain had conjured this up in some fevered hallucination. But no—the collection was very real. A fresh wave of heat flushed up your neck as your mind betrayed you, painting lewd images started to grace your mind.

''S-shit...''

You had always known your boss as a workaholic—ruthlessly efficient, with little patience for nonsense. She hate useless people and embodied the very definition of a strong, professional woman. The idea of her indulging in this kind of pleasure? You had never once considered it. You even though she hate sex since she was basically married to her job.

You exhaled slowly, pressing your lips together to silence any more wayward thoughts. A warmth crept up your legs. She's a dom. Of course she’d be the type to take charge, you couldn't imagine a person knocking your boss out. And you weren’t gonna judge. Everyone had their preferences and hobby. It just so happened that your boss—the most perfect strict woman you had ever known—had this particular… taste.

But then, an image flashed through your mind. Her in those straps, mercilessly pounding—

NO—!!

What the hell were you doing?! That was your boss. Seriously? Yes, you had a secret crush on her—who wouldn’t? Half the women in the office did. She was tall, older, powerful, sexy as sin, and filthy rich. But this? This was too much.

Goodness… stop it.

You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to steady the storm inside your head. Calm down. Get it together. This has to stop. Let's just pretend you didn’t see anything, forget about it, and get the hell out of here. You reached down, to pick up your folder. You needed to leave this cabinet alone before your boss arrive. But your body froze and your ear perk up. The sound of the penthouse door close thud echoed through the space.

Your entire body ran cold.

Shit. Are you kidding me?

The sound of the penthouse door sent a jolt of panic straight through you, but now—now you could hear the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps. Not just one pair. Two. Comin in your direction.

Your mind barely had time to spiral. Your boss wasn’t alone.

The realization hit you like a freight train. What to do? what to do?!

If she found you here—inside her private bedroom, inside here with her cabinet of secrets—there would be no explaining yourself. Not only had you trespassed into her personal space, but you had also stumbled upon something you were never meant to see.

Your panicking. Pulling your hair you look around looking for a place to hide but everthing was spot on. Your body moved before your mind could even process a proper escape plan. You snatched the folder from the floor, and shoved yourself inside the cabinet, tucking yourself into the bottom shelf just as you pulled the door shut.

Then—

BANG.

The bedroom door slammed open.

You clenched your jaw, pressing a hand over your mouth as heavy boots crossed the threshold. From your cramped hiding spot, you could barely breathe. You barely swallowed a gasp as you scrambled backward, pressing yourself as tightly as you could against the back of the cabinet.

Then came the voices. Low grunt and breathy, needy moan into the room.

“—been waiting all day for this,” a unfamilliar woman voice.

“You’re impatient. Little one..” Your boss voice response with a deep chuckle..

Your body froze with your eyes widen holding your breath so that you can't make a single sound. You shouldn’t be here.. Your cheeks heat up, your face burning. Please, this can't be happening. The rustling of clothes fills the air, followed by the creak of the bed. Your breath hitches as a series of moans began to echo through the room. You can't believe it—you’re secretly listening to your boss having sex while hiding among her collection. You whimper and your legs started to squirm.

Your breathing starts to hitch as you hear those horny moans. The door is closed, and you don’t dare to move. All the worries about the paper vanish, replaced by panic—how are you supposed to get out of this situation? You definitely don’t plan on hearing them the entire night. Unless… you’re willing to stay hidden in this shelf for the rest of the day.

Please be done already.

"Let me get my stap—" You heard Ambessa’s voice, clear and commanding voice.

Her strap?

You almost screamed in horror when you heard that sentence, her footsteps drawing closer. Your eyes wide in immediate shock. What to do? Your mind went blank. Panic surged through you. You had to move, had to do something—but were would you go!

No, no, no— Someone help!

You braced for impact, panic tightening around your throat—this is how you die. Caught. Hiding. Under your boss sex toy collection. You curled into the smallest ball humanly possible, silently praying and begging the universe to spare you. You recite all the godess you knew. If she opened this cabinet—if she found you—it was over.

You could already see her face, the sheer disbelief, the inevitable horror. Her secretary. This would be the single greatest humiliation of your entire life. And you weren’t sure you’d ever recover.

The cabinet slowly began to open and light started to enter inside before a voice interrupted.

"Tch, just get your stupid ass here, do it later...!"

The tone was dispreate, deep and unmistakably familiar.

Ambessa chuckled, and then—mercifully—she left the barely open cabinet. Instead, you heard her footsteps shift away, followed by the rustle of sheets. You almost collapsed from relief, pressing a hand over your mouth to muffle you shaky breath. Your squeeze your shirt against your chest your breath hoarse with intense nervousness. Frightened the hell out of your nerves The folder in your hand was now all cramp out didn't care. That was too close...

But just as you started to calm down, the room filled with a new sound—

A creaking bed.

Then, the sharp, rhythmic thud of the headboard tapping against the wall.

And finally—

A low, sultry moan.

Ambessa chuckles darkly, “Look at that wet pussy it's clencing for my touch,” she mocks, her tone saccharine and taunting.

You bit down on your knuckle so hard it almost drew blood. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Heat rushed to your face in shame, but—worse—your body reacted to the noises in ways you really wished it wouldn’t. You had always known Madam Medarda was an intense woman, but hearing her like this? Dominant, teasing, making someone beg—

Your thighs clenched involuntarily.

No. Stop.

You were not getting turned on by your boss getting laid. Absolutely not.

And yet—against your better judgment—your palm inched toward your pelvis, your body betraying you. Before you knew it, you were peeking through the small gap in the closet door.

Your breath hitched as you adjusted your view. The warm glow of the bedside lamp cast flickering shadows across the room.

''Ohhh yess keep going! Shit!''

In the center of the room, propped against the wall, was a bed stripped bare. The deep red, quilted mattress dipped under the weight of two naked muscular women tangled together, the relentless pounding of the bedframe against the wall echoing.

And then—you froze.

Your eyes went wide, your heart slamming against your ribs.

The woman with your boss—was Sevika!?

Sevika lay on her back, one leg raised high, the other bent in a loose butterfly stretch. Ambessa straddled her holding sevika legs up, their pussy grinding together out. The slick sound of skin against skin, mingled with husky grunts and breathless moans, filled the air. Your entire body trembled as you watched. You should have looked away, but you couldn’t. The sight was magnetic—two powerful, sweat-slicked women moving in perfect sync, their abs tightening, their muscular thighs and arms flexing under the dim, golden light. It was raw, unapologetic, and utterly impossible to ignore. It was like masterpiece painting..

Sevika. Her love-and-hate business partner. The woman who constantly stormed in and out of your boss’s office, always bickering, at each other. You never would have guessed. She wasn’t your boss’s lover—at least, that’s what your boss claimed. She had insisted she wasn’t interested in dating. Yet you had no idea they had this kind of secret affair. Not once had it crossed your mind that their constant arguments—their sharp words and heated glares—could have been hiding this.

Your boss wrapped her strong, wide fingers around Sevika’s throat, squeezing just enough to leave her gasping for air—but Sevika didn’t resist. She only smirked, locking eyes with Ambessa meeting her brutal grind their bodies colliding, tits bouncing with every movement.

Your breath hitched. You should have looked away if you want to be spared—but you couldn’t. Your were scared but they were too mesmerizing and intoxicating. The way their muscles tensed, the way sweat glistened on their skin under the dim light—it was too much. Too damn good. Too damn hot.

“Cum for me, Sevika,” Ambessa commanded, her tone leaving no room for defiance.

“Yes! Harder, Ambessa!” Sevika begged, her voice raw with need.

Ambessa leaned in, following the demand without hesitation. Sevika seized the moment, gripping Ambessa’s breasts, kneading them before pinching her stiffened nipple. A sharp whimper escaped both of them, fueling the fire between their bodies.

They grind against each other cunt in a desperate, feverish rhythm. Just watching them made your body throb, heat pooling low between your legs. Your toes curled, fingers twitching at your sides as moans filled the room. Ambessa’s pace quickened, her movements relentless, chasing and harsh. You imagined yourself between them, and the thought made you wetter, needier.

Sevika’s body tensed, her back arching off the bed. “Fuck’s sake—I’m coming! Don’t stop!” she gasped.

“Fuck, yes…” Ambessa threw her head back, her muscles flexing as their slick bodies moved in perfect sync. Their juices mixed, the scent of sex thick in the air. Their cries filled the room, bodies shaking as they rode out their climax, hips still grinding, chasing every last wave of pleasure. You couldn't look away. You keep watching them didn't blink every second.

Then—BZZZT!

The sudden blare of a ringtone shattered the moment. Your breath caught as your phone lit up in the dark closet. The sound startled you so badly that you jerked up, hitting your head on the shelf with a loud thud.

Shit.

''Who's there!!?''

[haberai]

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[mariasont]

I love your fics so much! Could you maybe make a pre-relationship fic of Spencer x reader Spencer rescues the reader from the unsub and calms them down?? I'm a big hurt/comfort girly lmao 🫶🏼😛

Pulse Point - S.R

a/n: thank you so much!!!! so sorry for taking so long! i hope you like it <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: undescribed injury, lil bit of angst with a happy ish ending, pre-relationship ending

wc: 1.6k

Spencer had seen you in danger before. It came with the job, a stipulation of the unwritten contract you signed the day you joined the team. His mind had been conditioned to assess danger rationally, stripping away emotion to leave behind only what mattered: probabilities, outcomes, strategies. 

But then again seeing you, tied to that chair, unconscious and face drained of color, was something he wasn't sure any amount of mathematical modeling could prepare him for.

Your head had hung at an unnatural angle, the strands of hair clinging to the sweat slicking your skin in a way that sent a visceral wave of nausea rolling through him. Rope burns — thin, angry welts were already bruising — encircled your wrists. He couldn't breathe, his chest seized mid-cycle, airways locking tight, as though his body itself couldn't handle the image of you in that state.

The unsub's voice had faded into white noise, irrelevant against the single, all-encompassing command that had pounded in his head — get to you, get you out of here.

Now, sitting on the cold concrete of the clearing zone with you cradled against his chest, Spencer's mind spiraled in a loop, that singular thought repeating, relentless, fractal, like a Fibonacci sequence winding tighter and tighter around his sanity. The unsub was subdued, Morgan had handled it efficiently, but Spencer couldn't bring himself to focus on that, let alone process it. The edges of his awareness narrowed, his entire world reduced to you. Limp. Unresponsive. Alarmingly still. It made his heart pound so violently it felt like it might break him from the inside out.

His hands wouldn't stop shaking, a trembling he couldn't stop no matter how hard he tried. One arm braced under your knees, the other pressed against the curve of your back. He adjusted his grip carefully, terrified of moving you the wrong way, terrified of doing anything that might make things worse. His eyes flicked to your chest, tracking the uneven rise and fall of your breathing. Too shallow. Too inconsistent. But there.

Twelve to twenty breaths per minute, that's the normal respiratory rate for an adult at rest, he recited, mind retreating to the relative safety of cold, clinical facts. Yours, he estimated, was faster, high twenties, maybe, an expected adrenaline response to trauma. It was within the acceptable range. It should have reassured him. As long as it didn't drop below eight or spike above thirty, there was no immediate cause for intervention. The logic was sound. The science was sound. But that did absolutely nothing to stem the gnawing unease twisting through him.

Then you started to stir.

It was subtle at first, so subtle he almost thought he imagined it — a small, almost imperceptible sound slipping past your lips, the softest shift of you head against his shoulder — but it sent a jolt through him nonetheless.

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy, the muscles in your face tightening with confusion as consciousness gradually took hold. Relief bloomed, but it died just as quickly. Recognition didn't follow. Instead, your expression twisted, your features contorting with something feral, something deeply afraid. Your breathing grew erratic, breaking into rapid, shallow bursts that rattled your frame.

And then you started thrashing.

"No, no, get off me!" Your voice cracked, raw with fear.

He tightened his arms just enough to stop you from hurting yourself.

"Hey, hey — stop! It's me — it's Spencer!"

You didn't react to his voice. It was as if you couldn't even hear him. Your body twisted violently, fighting something unseen, nails scraping at his vest, frantic and clawing, desperate to escape.

Spencer swallowed thickly, forcing himself to focus on what he knew. This was textbook trauma response. Cortisol and adrenaline were flooding your system, hijacking your prefrontal cortex, reducing your mind to survival instincts alone. It all made perfect sense, he could explain it in detail, rationalize it. But none of that could prepare him for what it felt like to hold you like this and not be able to fix it.

"Look at me. It's Spencer. You're safe now. I promise, you're safe."

The words didn't seem to do much, falling flat and useless. Spencer felt a crushing helplessness as he watched, paralyzed while panic consumed you in a way he couldn't stop. His mind scrambled, clawing through years of knowledge, training, and case studies, all of which felt painfully inadequate now. It was one thing to understand trauma as a concept, to study it in a clinical detachment. It was another to watch it consume someone you cared about, to feel it in the way your body shook.

But then, finally, something shifted.

You froze. Not the rigid, terror-fueled panic from before, but something different. Tentative. Uncertain. Your breathing stuttered, still too fast, but the wildness in your eyes began to ebb like clouds parting just enough to let a sliver of sunlight through. You blinked, once, twice, and then your gaze locked onto his face, really seeing him this time.

"Spence..." Your voice was hardly above a whisper, like a fragile filament of sound, barely there but enough for his chest to ache all the same.

Relief washed over him so fast it left him lightheaded. 

"Yeah, it's me," he said softly, nodding quickly as though the motion itself might convince you. "It's just me. You're okay."

Wide eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, stared back at him as though searching for something, anything, to hold on to. The air felt like it was holding its breath, waiting. And then he saw it, the exact second the realization hit that you were safe. The fear in your face melted, replaced by something fragile, something breaking open. Your lip quivered, your breath hitching, and then, without a word, you lunged forward, throwing your arms around his neck.

Spencer froze.

He wasn't exactly new to your hugs. They didn't happen often, his aversion to touch usually kept that at bay, but when they did, they were always simple. After a particularly hard case or when the job felt overwhelming. This, however, was not that.

For a split second, his brain failed him entirely, unable to keep up with what he was seeing. He honed in on the small details, the way your hands clutched his shirt in tight, desperate fists, the way your trembling body seemed so much smaller than he ever remembered. He'd never seen you this way. The realization terrified him in ways he couldn't articulate.

But then that rare instinct of his took over.

With painstaking care, he wrapped his arms around you, like he was afraid you might break apart in his hands. One hand slipped to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair, softer than he thought himself capable of. The other stayed pressed firmly against your back, holding you to him, refusing to let go, because letting go felt unthinkable, impossible. He leaned into you, his cheek brushing against the top of your head, breathing you in. The familiar scent of your shampoo was still there, but beneath it lingered something sharper, something more metallic that made his fingers sink deeper into the hold.

"It's okay," he murmured, every word scraping against the tightness in his throat. "I've got you I'm not going anywhere."

He felt the sharp hitch of your breath against his chest, followed moments later by the damp heat of tears soaking into his shoulder. You were crying. The realization hit him like a physical weight, and his arms tightened around you instinctively. He wasn't sure who was shaking anymore — you or him. Maybe both.

He shifted his hand slightly on your back, his thumb brushing against your shoulder blade. But even as he tried to comfort you, his brain kept ticking like clockwork, unable to stop itself. Your pulse, it was still too fast. He could feel in beneath the pad of his fingers, pounding just under the surface of your skin.

The medics needed to get here soon.

His fingers moved without thinking, sliding to your neck, pressing lightly against the artery there. He told himself it was necessary, just a routine check to make sure nothing was wrong, but he knew better. It was selfish, a desperate need to feel the beat of your pulse under his fingertips, to remind himself you were here. Alive. That the worst was behind you.

It was fast, just as he'd predicted, but steady. Stable. A good sign.

Spencer let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, shoulders sagging. 

"You're okay," he murmured softly, though he wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to convince anymore.

He closed his eyes.

Minutes passed by, though they both felt impossibly long and far too short. You stayed against him just like that, breathing slowly evening out until the jagged edges of panic dulled into exhaustion. He said nothing more, words felt unnecessary, maybe even counterproductive. So he just held you.

When the sound of footsteps finally reached his ears, Spencer didn't move. Not until the medics appeared in his peripheral vision, and even then, he hesitated, tightening his grip on you for just a fraction of a second before forcing himself to let go.

"Hey," he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. "The medics are here, okay? They're going to take care of you."

You nodded, but it was hesitant, your eyes swollen and puffy, and you clung to him just a little longer. Your hand wrapped around his sleeve like you were afraid to let go.

Spencer's eyes flicked to the medics, his voice low but insistent. "Be careful."

The medics nodded, stepping in to take over, and Spencer reluctantly released his hold. His arms felt empty, hollow, as they fell to his sides. Even as the medics worked, his gaze stayed glued to you, his eyes tracking every breath, every faint movement. He couldn't look away. Wouldn't.

It was then he realized a dangerous idea, that he cared about you more than he should, more than was professional. And it terrified him.

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[nightscythe]

I’ve been sick for the past two weeks, and it’s got me wondering—how do you think the primarchs would handle their s/o being sick for that long? Would some of them totally panic and try to carry you to the medbay even if you just have a cold? Or would they be the quietly worried type, sitting next to you and acting like they’re not checking your temperature every five minutes?

Would any of them try (and fail) to cook you something? Or maybe sit there reading to you because rest is important? I need to know who’s handling it with grace and who’s acting like you’re dying of the plague.

i hope you feel better anon!! i hope this gives you a bit of comfort ◡̈

pre-heresy primarchs when their muse is sick? just another way of saying that their entire world is shutting down. because they don't get sick so they just can't compute it properly.

cw for sickness/illness of course, worries about death, and alpharius' one is darker.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

the lion: he would never, ever leave your side. he may not outright tell you he's worried but given the fact he's moved in days, its safe to assume his worry has consumed him beyond anything else. actually, the only time he did leave was when you fell asleep one time and he wanted to make you food himself (because, if whoever was making your food before was doing a good job, you'd be better already). he can't actually cook but he does his best for you an it actually turns out well, and when you inadvertently compliment him he decide then and there he will walways be the one who makes your food. convinces himself he's the reason you're getting better in the end. and when you finally find a bit of rest? he finally lets his hands shake because he was worried. tiny over-reaction.

fulgrim: pff, dramatic? that's not fulgrim at all. convinces himself you've contracted the black plague for certain, but keeps up his happy appearance and tells everyone you're going to be fine anyway. no expense is too much, an array of possible things to make you better are presented each day, no matter how many times you tell him you don't need tiny rocks to make you feel better no matter how pretty they were. would probably need shutting down eventually and for you to tell him you would just like him, not everything he can offer. his heart practically melts at the thought, and even if you did have the plague, he'd still risk getting it to so he could revel in how much you wanted him around.

perty: hates more than anything that he can't fix it for you. probably spends more time away from you in an effort to cure whatever illness you have (because antibiotics could surely be more efficient), asking for four updates an hour from his sons. also probably thinks he's useless being with you, so there's no point with you. let's say you have enough of not seeing him and find him, sit beside him and watch him work. he wouldn't notice you at first, so focused on distracting himself from worry that shouldn't even exist to him. but when you place your hand on his, he freezes. what do you need? he'd ask, and when you say you need him, he short circuits for a moment. yes, of course, whatever will help. probably one of the first times he realised it was him that you loved and not his mind.

khan: there's not many times he would show his feelings openly. but he doesn't understand human weakness, certainly not something so mundane as being sick. so when he tries to imagine it in his head, he somehow inflates it to something far worse than it actually is. he makes an effort to keep light banter with you, even jest at how he'd never expected something like this to phase you. he'd want to let you rest, but when you ask him to stay, he'd be the first to sit back down and make sure no one was disturbing him for at least 24 hours. he'd talk to you until you fell asleep and stay by your side until you woke up. the second you feel better he tells you he always knew you'd be fine, but internally he's finally stopped worrying that he was going to lose you.

leman: laughed it off at first (nervously) because he knew you were strong. forgot you were not a primarch and could acually be defeated by something as small as a cold in the more dire circumstances. he'd be quite proactive in trying to get you to recover. no mopping around in bed all day when you could be having a warm bath or sitting beside him eating a good meal. somehow by trying to convince himself everything is fine and normal he becomes extremely efficient in making you feel better because you just feel... normal. but when you really have had enough, and you just want to rest, it only takes one look for him to give in. come here, little one, he'd say as he pulled you into his arms, resting his head against yours, you are strong, you'll be okay.

dorn: he may not have the words to say to you, but he's comfort incarnate nonetheless. he holds your hand, a bit (a lot) tighter sometimes when you show any symptoms of your illness. he asks for things to be brought to you that he knows will help (ie, soup, and even tastes it to make sure its the perfect temperature), he processes every bit of information logically so he knows what could possibly happens. accidentally focuses on the most negative side effects. a side effect of your medication is death? doesn't matter how many times you tell him they have to say that in case you have an allergic reaction, he's convinced himself of the worse. only recovery will remove this fear. is your personal guardian until you feel better regardless.

curze: has no clue what to do. is angry at you for being sick (he told you to wear a jacket when it was cold and this is what we've come to?). angry at himself for not being able to change it (because he should have held you in his arms and forced you to share his warmth). he could just go and check if you needed anything but that's too easy. life isn't that fair to him, there must be more to it. turns his attention elsewhere in ignorant bliss. returns to your bedside in time for you to wake up and still doesn't say anything to you, just watches. if you seem any worse he'll send someone, he's no help in this situation. no, he just goes and procures you a bunch of flowers and a gift to show his affection.

sanguinius: he already treats you like the most fragile thing in existence, so when you actually do show an ounce of weakness? he caves. he will not let you lift a finger. he will not have you bear a single thought without his support. you may just have a sore throat, he'd silence you with a kiss and speak for you, as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. he'd smile sweetly as he did everything in his power to ensure you were recovering (yes, he'd have someone check on you every ten minutes, even has an oximeter on you just in case...). type to lay beside you as you sleep, watch you so closely he can track each of your breaths, shield you from anything the outside world has to offer. and he knows you'll be fine. but whats a better excuse than this to treat you like he always wanted to.

ferrus: well you're not allowed to have anything happen to you, so good luck. he doesn't really know how to tell you anything else. you're not leaving me, he'd say as he sat beside me. and you can tell him over and over its literally just tonsillitis or whatever. he doesn't listen. its like him telling you over and over will somehow indoctrinate your body into listening to him. immediately begins looking into a way to make sure you're not susceptible to illness again, but never leaves your side. it would seem that vaccines need to be made stronger...that is how they work, if they were more effective, you would not be in this condition. how do you tell him you can't vaccinate against every single bacteria and virus. in his own arrogance of telling you you can't leave him, he doesn't worry too much.

angron: it was okay at first. then he really thought about it. he's unable to cope at all. please don't leave me he'd whisper in the dead of night. he's so quietly observant, seeing your fever get worse, how you reached for him as if you wanted him to help. please, my love, tell me you won't leave me. he knows you're sleeping and won't hear him, but he can't bring himself to say it at any other time. he just sits there, his legs and hands shaking, waiting for your fever to break overnight. there were a few times he felt utterly powerless and this was one of those times. and when he finally sees you open your eyes, how you seem just a touch better? every part of his body relaxes. he knows you're past the worst of it. he knows you won't leave him.

rob: brings in the best medicae he knows, stands behind them observing all their tests to ensure he is satisfied they know everything that's wrong and have a complete follow up treatment plan. basically becomes versed in medicine as well so he can form part of the discussions and reassures himself the best that can be done is being done. ignore that all you had was the flu. yeah it sucks but you'll more than likely be fine. he micromanages every part of your recovery alongside the medicae to ensure optimal recovery. does he worry? yes. but he hides it better than the others in front of you. outside your room? he's pacing. he's got about 5 action plans in the works for what to do if you start to feel worse, don't respond to the paracetamol, and if you do get better when he's not there.

morty: it wasn't very often that mortarion felt weak himself. but when you're sick? when he can't immediately take away your pain or your hurt? that's when he breaks. you were used to his blank stare 90% of the time and having to work out how he actually felt. but the second his voice broke, it was obvious - he was not coping well. because he felt responsible for you, keeping you safe, keeping you well, and he felt like he had failed you. he'd personally take control of your recovery. he'd spent each minute with you, never allowing himself to take his eyes off you until he knew you were well again. even if you told him you were okay, he'd shush you, still seeing that you looked tired or your hands shook a little. the only person he could ever trust to help you was himself, and its in this time you see the mortarion that existed behind all of the walls he built.

magnus: he can feel everything you can, so no point lying to him. every ache, every pain - you can't hide anything from him. and that makes it so much worse because he starts to panic even more. he's completely devoted to you and he's not afraid to show it either. he'd lay with you, cast illusions of grandeur to try to make you feel a bit better. craft stories to take your mind off whatever you're feeling. use ancient treatments to offer you any reprise he can. and when you do fall asleep? poor guy just falls apart. he's scared to lose you already and seeing you in any kind of weakened state really sets him over the edge. he's cry whilst holds you, he'd search every future he can to see an outcome. when you wake up and tell him you're feeling a lot better? his heart almost bursts with joy. such a soft huge guy its unreal.

horus: he says he's not concerned (he is) because he's seen men lose most of their body and still survive (yeah thanks for that). he doesn't leave your side though, opting to cancel every engagement he was meant to attend in favour of spending it with you. i know it will pass, sweetheart, he'd say as he wrapped his arms around you and kept you as close to him as possible, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, but i would rather be with you until i know you're okay. he cares deeply about you and he's completely obssessed with you, so of course he's going to worry - but he turns that into extra love for you.

lorgar: he first of all believes that this is punishment for something he's done wrong. he's convinced that the powers above, be it his father or something else, knew that the fastest way to hurt him was through you. when you explain its because you caught it off a serf (an immediately retracted admission because this poor serf was almost about to feel the wrath of a primarch in love), he questions it, but accepts it. he would not feel whole again until you were well - this literally breaks him inside (because he later convinces himself this was fate's punishment and blames himself). he's so caught up in his divine presentation of you that he forgets you are human, his worship doesn't make you invincible. don't expect anything practical from him, he's now making plans to actually make you a divine entity.

vulkan: praise to the one primarch who doesn't overreact. he understands the depths of why you're unwell (be it a cold, a virus, or something more serious) and tailors his approach perfectly, knowing exactly what you do and don't need. and you know his big warm hands are extremely nice to feel no matter what's burdening you. he will give you your space when you need it, especially when you're sleeping so he doesn't disturb you, and when you want his company? he's right there with anything you've previously told him you liked. hot water bottle, blanket, energy drink (poor choice but 1 is permitted), he would have it all. let me take care of you, he'd mumble, pulling you into his arms. perfectly normal reaction, really.

corax: acts like he doesn't care, but he does. sends medicae your way the second he sees a slight shift, even if its just your voice sounding a bit hoarse or if you wince when you move a little. stands at the other side of the room and listens to everything they say with great detail to ensure he carries out their treatment to the best of his ability. if its something small he can sigh in relief for now, but anything else would leave him a bit of a mess internally. because what would he do without you? how can he get through life without you by his side? immediately assumes the worst and becomes a silent observer. makes sure everything you need is at your side immediately when you need it - including him.

alpharius: you needed him so much that he liked it. you always kept your independence around him, but when you were sick? you asked for his help in everything. and he lived for it. so maybe he manipulates your recovery. you thought you'd feel better after a week, but 3 weeks in and you still don't feel 100%. the medicae tells you its just a stronger form of the virus you caught. must have mutated. you're not paying enough attention to notice how they glance at alpharius when speaking. i'll keep you safe, he tells you, locking your door behind him. its not like you could get up to leave anyway, the strong painkillers kept you in bed. i won't let anything happen to you, he whispers softly as he strokes your hair and holds you against him. i won't lose you, as he wonders how he's going to convince you that you're still sick when you have no more symptoms.

[livelaughlovesubs]

Nini, what about vampire Fyodor x vampire hunter reader (〜^∇^)〜 like you’ve been assigned to hunt down and bring the head of Fyodor Dostoevsky to uhh.. a king idk.

So you track Fyodor down and instead make a deal with him. You won’t kill him and actually let him feed off you and he lets you fuck him (ゝз╹)

At first he’s hesitant. A well ranked hunter coming to him and proposing a friends with benefits arrangement sounds pretty suspicious, but hearing the offer that you let him feed off you makes him agree since it’s an easy meal and he was planning on betraying you later on.

Thats until he’s bent down on all fours and being pounded like wild animals in heat. The vampire is so touch starved that he can’t handle the pleasure and tries biting anything he can (let’s just say you were left with a bunch of bite marks) After that experience he traps you in his manor and begs you to stay with him, maybe he turns you into a vampire as well

-🍮

I had so much fun writing this haha, and I had to brainstorm trying to fill in some plot holes

Dom!reader x sub!vampire!fyodor

Warning: teasing, pet name (lil’ vamp), pegging (I use dick), a tiny bit of dacryphilia, biting, hierophilia (blood), vampirism, contract sex

Edit: I think I’m based towards fyodor, this ended up so long again-

You were a mercenary, one specified in hunting down those bloodsucking monsters known as vampires. Your name was infamous among the humans and vampire race, known for your amazing methods and efficient execution. Though you don’t care much about fame, the only good things about it is it lands you many missions. Which is why you’ve been summoned to the castle of a faraway country, one that resides close to a forbidden forest.

These mysterious forests are strictly forbidden due to vampires living within them. It’s always dark and quiet in those places, befitting their taste. So you might think it’s alright if people just don’t go into the woods. Sadly something like that can’t be prevented. There are many valuable resources beneath these trees, and everyone is dying to get their hands on those. The price for material from the forest is also really high, and sometimes that’s the only hope for the commoners.

Even though it’s been agreed upon that humans shall not disturb the vampires for they own safety, your client, the king, wanted to raid the forest. He had his eyes set on the wood planted around the mansion of the monster, it had a beautiful dark colour and was very sturdy. Yet out of fear for the power of the entity, he didn’t dare set a single foot into the woods. That’s when you come into the spotlight, he wanted you, the most famous vampire hunter, to take care of this. Once the vampire is gone, he won’t be breaking any rules, right?

This was a common case for you, everyone used you to do their dirty work. That’s the life of a mercenary, disposable and self-destructive.

You walked through the lavish halls of the king, meeting him in his throne hall. He didn’t spare you more then one glance, shouting loud enough for his voice to bounce off the walls, “y/n, vampire hunter. I have an honorary task for you. I want you to bring me the head of the demon Fyodor Dostoyevsky and for that you’ll be greatly rewarded.”

Despite it sounding grandiose and imposing you knew how to stand your ground, asking for the exact amount you’ll be rewarded and an advance payment. The king on the other hand refused to answer, saying he doesn’t want you to run off with the money. What a joke, your previous feats aren’t just for show after all. There was no helping it, that’s life. You swallowed your anger and left, rolling your eyes as you prepared to set off.

The home of that demon was grande, almost as huge as the castle, he sure loved luxury. You circled around the house to secure your escape route before heading inside, the door opened with a climatic creak. What a cliche, does vampires not know how to take care of their home? Without sparing it too much thought, you stepped inside and called out for that monster, wondering why the ruler knew his name. They must have a long history between them.

“Fyodor! Heyyy, come out, do me a favour and make this easy.” You yelled, and soon enough, a shadow emerged from behind you. Before you got the chance to turn around, he mumbled with grace and elegance, “Y/n, the vampire’s greatest enemy. The one who pulled out the fangs of Dracula with your bare hand, and forced him to drink the blood of his comrades.” A shiver ran down your spine at his voice, it was low and pretty, enough to stir something inside you.

“That’s an exaggeration, I never did such things.” You turned around and chuckled, staring into his purple eyes. Before you stood a black haired young man with a puffy shirt and fitted pants. He wore many silver accessories, tons of necklaces hung around his neck. His appearance was very eye-catching, pretty features and pale skin, sickly so. “…but I may have a record of flirting with the enemy.” After seeing how beautiful he was, you decided to indulge yourself, flirting with him.

He didn’t pay your words any attention, instead he continued with his speech, “Mortal children strived to be like you, while we use your stories to scare the kids.” You stopped, a sense of pride engulfing you from the inside. “My, I am quite famous after all.” Fyodor furrowed his brows, as if he’s agitated, then he relaxed his expression and said, “I knew you’d come for me one day. And, I’m dying to try out your blood.” After saying that, he licked his lips before covering his mouth with his hand.

You laughed, catching him off guard. The sound of your voice was annoying, he felt like you were mocking him. Then you teased, “dear, do you really think you can touch my blood?” That was clearly a provocation, you looked down on him. He clicked his tongue, glaring at you. The moment you blinked, he rushed over to you, planning on taking you out with one swoop attack. You dodged him with ease, commenting, “not bad, but is this all?” And he ignored your remarks once more.

Seeing how serious he was, you’ll have to stop the joking soon as well. To be honest you weren’t in the mood for fighting, which is why you suggested, “How about this, fyodor-” “I didn’t give you permission to use my name.” He snapped, showing his fangs. “…then, lil’ vamp it is.” You chuckled, noticing how that pet name annoyed him further. “How about a deal? I’ll spare your life and you can have as much of my blood as I’m able to give you.” His pointy ears perked, intrigued by this proposal. It sounded enticing, but there’s nothing for free in this world.

“And what do you get out of this?” Fyodor asked, keeping his distance. He wasn’t going to heed the rules of a deal anyway, especially when made with a human. “Allow me to be a bit crude, but I want you to sell your body to me.” The boy froze in place, eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Were you aware of the implications of your own words? Was this another one of your mockery, your way of insulting him? “What makes you think I’d agree?” He questioned you, staring at your face with his scarlet eyes, trying to read you.

“I’m simply proposing a deal, you can decline or agree, it’s up to you.” Somehow you managed to sound unbothered and cheery despite the situation. No matter how fyodor wanted to decline, he knew this was his chance. If you fought with him seriously, he would eventually lose. Now, with you giving him new opportunities, he had to take them and put it to good use. “I’ll accept this for now, so, show me how sincere you are.” The demon demanded, and you answered with, “my pleasure, please show me to your room.”

Who would have known a day like this would come, where he got shoved into his own room, pinned to his own bed and humiliated in front of a human. It didn’t take long until you got him bend over on all fours, face pressed into his soft pillows. Any of his attempts to overpower you were futile, because you were physically stronger than him. That allowed you to pretty much manhandle him, denying him access to your neck. Once you got him into this vulnerable position, you didn’t held yourself back, asking him one last time if your deal still stands. After he nodded, you went all in.

Now you were breathing heavily while slowly entering his hole. His rim was tight and didn’t allow you any entrance, but you stayed stubborn, gently pushing your way in. “You are so tight, lil’ vamp.” You muttered, occasionally glancing over at him to see how well his reaction is. “Nghhh…! S-slow down, it hurts!” Fyodor groaned, cheeks flushed red as he realized the situation he was in, and that he never shared such intimate moments with anyone before. “…if I go any slower I wouldn’t be moving anymore.” You tried to reason with him, leaning down to press your body against his.

“HnnGh… t-then pull out…” He snarled, glaring at you while he felt your skin against his back, pressing him down, reminding him of your presence. How did things turn out like this? Why was he participating in such vulgar acts with his greatest enemy…? “Do you want me to? Then you won’t get my blood as well.” You whispered into his ear, licking his earlobe and the earring he wore. “Ha-haahhhH…! No, d-don’t.” The boy gasped, and you weren’t sure what he meant. But he seems to be enjoying himself, so you continued.

His hands gripped the white sheets with all the remaining strength he had, his ass reddened as he struggled to take you whole. That poor guy’s entire body was shivering, shaking as he tried to get used to this pressing sensation inside him. He could feel you stretching him apart, rubbing against his squishy walls. You smiled as you observed his efforts, one hand clasped over his hand as you intertwining your fingers with his. He had sharp nails, you could even call them claws. So you were worried that he’d poke holes into his sheets.

Your other hand explored his body, trailing down his spine with your fingertips, brushing over his body as if you were caressing a flower. “Hmm..! Uh-uhhng..! It f-feels weird..” It tickled him, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable, at least he thinks it wasn’t. Next, you stroke his silky hair before grabbing his hip and mumbling tenderly, “you are doing good, don’t worry I plan on being nice for today.” What do you mean for today…?

Soon, your hips met with his, and you stopped moving until you were sure he was alright. “Good job.” You said, rubbing his blushing cheeks slightly. Then you held your wrist right in front of him, inviting him to bite you, giving him your approval. Without any once of hesitation, he sunk his teeth into your flesh, sucking viciously. He was feeling so weak from your actions, he needed that replenishment. Since he was distracted, you took that chance to start moving again, making sure to take your sweet time. Well, he looked like he’d break if you weren’t gentle with him. He had such a slim and frail physic after all. Just look at his waist, it’s so skinny you fear you could accidentally break him into two pieces.

Fyodor suck on your wrist, mind getting cloudy from the taste of your sweet blood. It tasted amazing, and it made him feel all foggy inside. As if he was getting drunk on it, addicted even. He made sure not to waste a single drop, lips pressed against your skin while he gulped down more and more of your vitality. Apparently he was so distracted he didn’t notice you pounding his cute ass, not until it was too late. You fucked him slowly but roughly, each time you’d thrust yourself as deep inside him as you could, feeling him clench around you so sweetly.

“HnMnh, nghh…” the vampire only whimpered meekly as he sipped your blood contently, feeling pleasure blossom everywhere inside him. You eventually quickened your pace, now rutting into him without any care in the world. It was instantly met with his mewling, a high pitched noise as he screamed in ecstasy. Fyodor couldn’t pull his thoughts together, tongue hanging out as some tears rolled down his face.

Then you pulled your wrist away from him, saying, “that’s enough for now. If you want more, you gotta work hard.” His eyes bore such a pitiful look as he begged you for more, face melting as he moaned around you, some of your blood sticking to his lips. “Ahhh… it felt so good, I-i don’t wanna stop..” he admit, hands shaking underneath you, his primal urges kicking in, infesting his desires and hunger.

“What is it that you want, fyodor?” The way you voiced his name made his knees go weak, tremble even. He panted heavily, trying to fill his lungs with air, to keep his composure. “I-I want more blood… I want your blood.” You smiled, seeing him so desperate fed into your own desires. And you felt like if you denied him any longer he was going to cry, considering his eyes were getting watery already. “Then come here, lil’ vamp.” You told him and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you as you sat up, positioning him in your lap.

His first response was to whine as he arched his back forwards, legs turning into pudding as his hands shakily let go of the sheets, now clutching your thighs. “Ah-nGhh.. it’s so- so deep inside me.. it’s so foreign..?” Out of nowhere you turned him over, and he wanted to immediately bite your neck, but you covered his mouth with your palm. “Not yet.” As soon as he understood what you wanted, he wrapped his arms around your neck, bouncing up and down your dick like he was in heat. Your hand was still over his lips, so his moans all got muffled as they seeped through, “mHhnff, HnnGh, hmm…!!”

He rode you with fever and need. On one hand because he needed you and your blood on a carnal level, on the other hand due to him starting to enjoy getting fucked by you. After a while you took your hand away from him, now squeezing his waist with both hands, guiding his movements. Fyodor nuzzled against your neck, pleading with you, hoping you’d let him have some of that delicious red liquid again. “Y/n.. ah-huuHhn~ l-let me fed off you..? P-please..♡♥︎～?” You giggled to yourself, entertained and delighted, duty all pushed to the side as you said, “go on, take as much as you need.”

Needless of say, you two shared a long night together, and somehow, both of you ended up in endless love bites. Ops, what’s this? Oh no, his door is stuck! It must be because it’s so old~ oh no, seems you’ll have to stay at the mansion longer than expected… and his impending heat is coming up ♡

My friend send me this after I told them what I was writing haha

[am-i-interrupting]

Reacting to You Hurt

For @aliceneedsphalis

Alastor

Hell is an awful place and you’re used to it at this point. It didn’t bother you when someone tried to jump you and managed to stab you while you got away. What did bother you was the fact that now you were late.

Every week you and Alastor met up sometimes at your place, other times his radio station, occasionally on his bedroom balcony, and every so often you’d venture out to a restaurant.

You met up to catch each other up on the going ons in Overlord business (in his case) and general populace activity (in your case)

You were grumbling to yourself as today you went to his radio tower.

They’d ripped one of your favorite tops because of course they did and now it would be stained!

You were not looking forward to the patching up process and cleaning but hey, it is what it is, right?

You knocked on the door and were let in by a shadow.

Alastor had beginning to get worried. It was unlike you to be late but he felt his worry fade when the knock sounded.

He stood and spun around. Arms extended in welcome. They immediately fell.

His eyes went to dials instantly.

He patches you up quickly and efficiently but his touch is unintentionally harsh before he gets ahold of his anger.

He begins to interrogate you for a description of the person who hurt you and a name of you have it as well as where it happened.

When you insist it’s nothing, his head turns, neck popping at an unnatural angle.

“Nothing? My dear, you’re injured. This is not a mere scratch at that. You’ve been stabbed and contracted or not, you are a soul under my protection. No one messes with what is the radio demon’s.”

Alastor is not above using intimidation tactics to try to get this information.

If he gets it, God can’t save the person who hurt you.

A special broadcast for a sinner who never stood a chance.

He will torture this person for hours on end.

Rosie

You blamed yourself, honestly. This was Hell. The extermination was not that long ago. Turf wars were rampant. You should have stayed home.

The molotov that went off nearby was not at all your fault but you felt like you should have known better than to go out on the streets the day after the extermination ended.

You stayed home until the turf wars died down but you did go home and stay home until they did right after.

For the most part, yeah, it hurt like a bitch but it wasn’t something you couldn’t handle.

The skin would regenerate. The main thing was making sure you didn’t need to regenerate completely.

A couple days later, you managed to work up the energy to go to Cannibal Town.

You opened the doors to Rosie’s Emporium.

“Oh my lord! Sweetheart, what happened?!” “I went out after the extermination, got hit in some crossfire. I was wondering if these clothes were salvageable or am I going to have to plan an order for something new?” “Sit down!” “Yes, ma’am.”

She would redo all your bandages properly, put some top notch cream and ointments on you and send you with some to go home with.

Rosie may want to know who did this so she can go have a very stern chat with them but she cares about you being well more.

She does bring goodie baskets and restocks your entire wardrobe while she temporarily has you on bed rest.

She will fuss over you and you won’t have to lift a single finger because if she’s not there, one of her most trusted cannibals are and they are trusted because they will report back if you’re being stubborn and refusing their help.

She will check up on you every day until you’ve completely regenerated all your skin and you’re good as new.

Vox

When you got caught in the middle of a drug deal gone wrong and your eye got damaged, you did not want the annoyance.

You see, people would think that having your eye merely damaged would be better than having it gone but. . .

Your vision was iffy at best. You would get constant headaches due to the imbalance of vision. (I am not projecting with my imbalanced as hell prescription, fuck off.)

It just was not worth it so you went to a friend and got the entire eye removed.

So instead of a week’s worth of headaches and pain while going about your day to day, you got off with two weeks without an eye until it regenerated. May be twice the time, yes, but a well off trade.

At least, you thought so until you explained this to Vox when you brought him lunch the next day.

“You did what?!”

He was looking at you like you’d done something completely irrational. Claws digging into his desk, eyes wide and spiraling, a snarl curled on his face.

“Okay, okay, okay, let’s start off small? Who did this to you?” “I don’t know, some stranger on the street.” “Some stranger on the—“ *cue maniacal laughing—“okay. Where did this happen?”

You don’t go to work for the next month. Vox makes sure of it.

You are being pampered and holed up in the V Tower. You can’t leave by yourself ever again. He’s getting you a bodyguard.

“No, doll face, I’m not budging on this. You don’t have to talk to them. Hell, you don’t have to interact with them at all but you are not leaving alone.” “You think I don’t know you stalk me?” “Clearly I don’t do it well enough with my attention divided!”—his eyes would spiral before he takes a deep breath and places his hands gently on your shoulders—“I’m not budging so look over the resumes and choose one or I’ll do it for you.”

Yeah, say bye-bye to your privacy, not that you had much anyway but you did use to have the illusion of it. If you’re with the Vs or in one of their buildings, the bodyguard does not have to be with you but somehow they always know when you try to sneak somewhere yourself.

At least you have someone to carry your bags for you when your shopping now.

Vox absolutely checks all of his security footage and finds the people who hurt you.

Let’s just say they don’t regenerate for. . . a long while.

[heliosunny]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request Topaz for your mystery plant series? If you don't mind, of course! I really like your works!

MYSTERY PLANT

Yandere!Topaz x Reader

The bulb of the strange plant shuddered. You stepped back, watching as the thick, golden-hued vines unfurled from the pod, slithering along the damp earth like greedy fingers. The energy you had poured into it moments ago still hummed in the air, a faint, shimmering light pulsing from the petals. Then, with a final tremor, the bulb split open.

A figure emerged—limbs stretching, hair tumbling down. Her eyes locked onto yours, filled with a sharp intelligence that sent a chill down your spine.

“Ah…” Her voice was soft, musing, like someone waking from a pleasant dream. “So, you’re the one who gave me life?”

She took a step forward, bare feet pressing into the soil. The vines behind her coiled and pulsed, as if still connected to her, feeding her energy.

Her head tilted slightly. “Mmm… You’re quite the generous one, aren’t you? Giving me all this energy… It almost feels like a contract.”

Before you could step back, a soft touch grazed your wrist. You felt the energy between you shift, like invisible threads tangling, tightening.

“So tell me…” Her eyes gleamed, “How long do you plan to take responsibility for me?”

Numby appeared moments after Topaz, its small, round form emerging from the remnants of the bulb like a creature shaking off sleep. It let out a soft, inquisitive hum before rolling over to your feet, sniffing at the energy still lingering in the air.

Your brow furrowed. This… wasn’t supposed to happen.

Normally, when you used your energy to create artificial plants, there was only ever one spawn—one life form birthed from the process, no more, no less. It was a fixed rule, something you had confirmed through trial and error countless times. But now, standing before you, were two.

Topaz must have noticed your expression because she let out another small giggle, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she crouched down to stroke Numby’s head. “Surprised?”

“You shouldn’t exist like this,” you said plainly, eyes flicking between her and Numby. “There’s only ever one spawn per creation. Something about you is… different.”

Topaz hummed at that, tapping a finger to her chin in mock contemplation. “Different, huh?” A mischievous smile curled her lips as she straightened, stepping even closer to you. “Then maybe that just means I was meant to be special.”

She reached out again, fingers brushing against your wrist as if testing the connection between you two. Numby let out a small trill, nudging against your leg, its presence reinforcing the reality of the situation.

---

The streets buzzed with the usual hum of city life—voices overlapping, machinery whirring, advertisements flashing on massive holo-screens. It was nothing new to you, but for Topaz and Numby, it was an entirely different world.

Topaz walked beside you, taking everything in with calculating eyes. Numby, on the other hand, had taken to perching on her shoulder, its ears twitching at every unfamiliar sound. Occasionally, it would let out a small hum of interest, only for Topaz to pat its head in silent reassurance.

You had expected her to be overwhelmed. Most spawns, even the strongest ones, took time to adjust to the sheer density of artificial structures, the lack of natural energy in the air. But Topaz? She was completely unfazed.

“This place is noisy” she mused. Her eyes flicked to an overhead drone delivering packages across the skyline. “But it’s efficient.”

“You’re handling this better than I expected.”

“What, did you think I’d be clinging to you for guidance?”

You said nothing, and she laughed, her voice light but carrying that same undeniable confidence. “Relax, I’m adaptable. Besides, you’re here to show me the ropes, aren’t you?”

“Right. Come on.”

You led her through the city, pointing out the basics—the transport system, the automated shops, the information hubs. She absorbed it all quickly, asking the right questions at the right times, making it clear that she wasn’t just following along but learning. Numby, meanwhile, had discovered the joy of vending machines, bouncing in place every time a drink or snack was dispensed.

At some point, Topaz stopped in front of a large stock exchange board, watching the numbers flicker and shift in real time.

“This world runs on deals, doesn’t it?”

You nodded. “Money, contracts, trades—it’s all about value.”

Topaz tapped a finger against her lips, a slow smile forming. “Sounds familiar.” She turned to you, “Then I guess I’ll have to find my worth here, too.”

“Come on, teacher,” she teased. “Show me more.”

You weren’t sure whether you were guiding her through the city or walking straight into a deal you couldn’t back out of.

The day stretched on as you led Topaz and Numby through different parts of the city. She was sharp—far too sharp for someone who had only just been born from your energy. Each new concept you introduced was absorbed quickly, as if she had already been familiar with the mechanics of this world and was simply refreshing her memory.

She tested things, too. When you explained the transport system, she didn't just nod along—she insisted on navigating it herself. Within minutes, she had accessed the terminal, calculated the most efficient route, and stepped onto the train like she had done it a hundred times before.

Numby, on the other hand, was less concerned with efficiency and more concerned with fun. It had taken a particular interest in the moving walkways, rolling across them in sheer delight until Topaz had to pick it up with an amused sigh.

"You really shouldn't be learning this fast" you muttered as the train doors closed behind you.

Topaz turned to you with a playful smirk, resting an elbow on the safety bar. "Shouldn’t I? Or do you just not like how easily I’m catching up?"

You frowned. It wasn’t about pride—it was about how unnatural this was. Spawns always struggled to adjust, needing guidance, patience. Yet here she was, already blending into the world like she had always belonged.

"Don't think too hard about it," she added, leaning in just slightly. "Maybe I'm just special, remember?"

You let out a breath, watching as the city blurred past the windows. She wasn’t wrong.

After a few more stops, you reached the marketplace—an open plaza lined with vendors selling everything from high-tech gadgets to handmade crafts. It was one of the busiest areas in the city, a perfect place to see how Topaz handled crowds.

She thrived in it.

Where most newcomers hesitated at the overwhelming stimulation, she weaved through people effortlessly, stopping only when something caught her interest. A merchant showcasing valuable minerals? She analyzed them with a keen eye, even bargaining like she already knew the tricks of the trade. A food stall selling grilled skewers? She grabbed one without hesitation, offering you a bite with an easy grin.

"You should eat too," she said. "Gotta keep your energy up. Wouldn’t want you collapsing on me, would we?"

You took the skewer with a sigh, watching as she turned her attention to a nearby digital board displaying the latest economic trends.

"You seem really interested in all this business stuff."

"It’s just… familiar. Feels right, you know?"

Numby let out an affirming trill, rubbing against her cheek.

"Say," she mused, stepping closer, "you never did answer my question from earlier."

"Which one?"

"How long do you plan to take responsibility for me?"

Topaz stared at you. You had expected her to laugh it off, maybe tease you again—but instead, she simply tilted her head.

"Until someone chooses me" she echoed, voice slow, deliberate. "Or until I can live on my own."

You nodded. "That's the purpose of my role. I bring things like you into existence and support them until they can sustain themselves. It’s not about ownership—it’s about balance."

Numby let out a small hum, nestled against Topaz’s neck, but she barely reacted. Her focus was entirely on you.

"That’s an interesting perspective" she mused, taking a step closer. "But tell me—what if I don’t want to be chosen by someone else?"

"That’s not really up to me. Everyone finds their own path eventually."

Her fingers tapped against her arm in thought. "And if I decide that my path is you?"

"That’s not how this works, Topaz" you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You were born from my energy, but that doesn’t mean you have to stay tied to me. You’re supposed to grow, adapt, and—"

"—and what?" she interrupted, stepping even closer. "Leave you behind?"

"You gave me life. You’ve shown me this world. And now you’re telling me that, at some point, I should just go?"

"That’s a flawed system" she finally said, crossing her arms. "If you bring things to life only to let them go, then what do you get out of it?"

You opened your mouth, but she cut you off with a knowing chuckle. "Let me guess—‘it’s not about getting something in return.’ Right?"

Topaz sighed, shaking her head. "You’re too selfless for your own good." Then, before you could react, she reached forward and grabbed your wrist.

"Fine," she said, squeezing just slightly. "If I have to prove I can sustain myself, I will. But don’t think for a second that means I’m going to walk away."

Topaz had already decided she wasn’t going anywhere.

The day had been routine—another cycle of creation, watching as new life formed and found their place in the world. You had always found a quiet satisfaction in it, knowing that your role was to guide and nurture until they could stand on their own.

Topaz had watched the process with a thoughtful expression, her sharp gaze analyzing every moment. She didn’t say much, but you could tell she was absorbing everything. Even Numby, who usually found more joy in simple pleasures, had been curiously observing the way you worked.

By evening, you were preparing to head back when the distant sound of alarms cut through the streets. Smoke curled into the sky, and without hesitation, you, Topaz, and Numby rushed toward the source.

The fire had engulfed a grand estate, flames licking at the ornate walls, threatening to reduce everything to ash. The city’s emergency forces were already responding, but there was too much damage spreading too quickly.

Without thinking, you leaped into action, using your abilities to create a barrier of plant life—moist vines and thick roots curling against the fire’s edges to slow its spread. Topaz, never one to stand idly by, took charge of organizing the efforts, directing people to safety.

And Numby—Numby was the true hero.

The small creature darted through the smoke, following the panicked cries of a trapped child. With incredible speed, it found its way inside and emerged moments later, the child clinging desperately to it. The sight of them, framed against the burning house, sent a wave of relief through the onlookers.

By the time the fire was under control, exhaustion had settled into your bones. But the gratitude on the faces of the family who owned the estate made it clear that your efforts had not gone unnoticed.

The patriarch of the family—a man of considerable wealth and influence—stepped forward, his expression grim yet grateful. "You saved my child. You saved us. Whatever you need, whatever is within my power, consider it yours."

You opened your mouth to refuse—after all, this wasn’t about rewards—but before you could speak, Topaz placed a hand on your shoulder, stepping forward with a confident smile.

"Actually," she said smoothly, "I do have a request."

The family turned their attention to her, intrigued. You, however, felt a sense of unease creep in.

"I want official recognition in this world. A place where I belong."

A silence fell over the group.

Topaz wasn’t just asking for a favor.

She was securing her place—permanently.

The head of the wealthy family exchanged glances with his wife, then nodded. “That is a reasonable request” he said. “We will make sure you are properly acknowledged.”

“Good.” Topaz’s fingers curled slightly against your shoulder, grounding herself. “And one more thing.”

The man raised an eyebrow.

“I want to be registered with them,” she continued, glancing at you. “Not just as someone who exists in this world, but as someone under their care.”

You opened your mouth to object, but the patriarch simply nodded again. “That can be arranged. Given the circumstances, it would be fitting.”

Fitting? Fitting?!

You finally turned fully to Topaz, lowering your voice so only she could hear. “What are you doing?”

She smiled innocently. “What do you mean? Didn’t you say it yourself? You bring things like me to life, and you support us until we can live on our own.”

“That doesn’t mean tying yourself to me like this”

“You said I’d have to find my own path,” she murmured. “I just decided that my path is you.”

Numby let out a soft trill, as if agreeing.

Before you could protest further, the family’s legal aide approached, already drafting the paperwork. “If you’ll both provide identification, we can finalize this within the hour.”

Topaz tilted her head at you expectantly, waiting.

You could refuse. You could fight this.

But looking at her now, at the way her grip on you never loosened, at the way her presence had already begun to entwine with yours like it was always meant to be there…

She had no intention of letting you go.

When the contract was signed, Topaz beamed, her eyes shining with satisfaction. The rich family—grateful for the fire rescue—handled everything swiftly, securing her official residency papers, identification, and even setting her up with financial resources.

It should have been a relief. Instead, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

“This means I’m officially part of this world now” Topaz mused, stretching her arms with a pleased sigh. “No more uncertainties, no more temporary existence. You really are reliable, aren’t you?”

She turned to you, her gaze lingering just a second too long before she grinned. “Now, all that’s left is securing my future. I should get a job.”

The declaration caught you off guard. “A job?”

“Of course,” she replied easily. “You said it yourself—people here need to be able to support themselves, right? If I’m going to stay, I should learn how this world works firsthand.”

Over the next few days, Topaz threw herself into researching job opportunities. She poured over listings, asked you endless questions about different careers, and even dragged you to various workplaces to observe how things functioned.

She was meticulous, but more than that—she was determined.

It didn’t take long for her to settle on what she wanted.

“I’ve decided” she announced one evening, leaning against the table with a triumphant smirk. “I want to work in finance.”

The moment she set her sights on the industry, she moved quickly. The rich family pulled a few strings, arranging an interview for her at a prestigious firm. You thought she might need time to prepare, but Topaz approached the opportunity with an unsettling confidence.

“They’ll love me” she said with absolute certainty. “After all, I know exactly how to get what I want.”

And she did.

She aced the interview, securing a position almost immediately. The higher-ups were charmed by her charisma, her keen eye for opportunities, and—most of all—her aggressive approach to negotiations.

“I made quite the impression” she told you afterward, her eyes glinting with amusement. “The hiring manager said I was relentless. Can you believe that?”

You could.

You really, really could.

With a job now anchoring her to this world, Topaz’s presence in your life should have lessened. She should have become busier, more independent, more focused on her own path.

Instead, she became even more involved in yours.

She adapted quickly—too quickly. She learned how to balance her work while ensuring you remained within reach at all times. No matter how much time passed, no matter how late her shifts ran, she always made time to check in on you.

“Did you eat today?” she would ask, appearing at your doorstep unannounced. If you hesitated, even for a second, she’d already be pulling out pre-packaged meals—ones she had chosen for you.

“I heard you had a long day” she would say, messaging you before you even got the chance to tell her.

“I made sure you weren’t overworked” she’d mention casually, dropping hints that she knew more about your workplace than she should.

Everything had been moving so fast. Topaz’s job, her increasing presence in your life, the way she always seemed to anticipate your needs before you even voiced them. It was suffocating, but you convinced yourself that she was simply adapting to her new life.

That illusion shattered the night you found the hidden clause in the contract.

While cleaning, a stack of old documents caught your eye—the papers from when the rich family arranged Topaz’s residency. You skimmed through them absentmindedly, expecting nothing unusual.

Until you saw it.

A clause written in fine print, nearly imperceptible at first glance:

“The creator assumes responsibility for the subject’s well-being and longevity. Any attempts to abandon, neglect, or separate from the subject will result in automatic reinforcement of binding protocols.”

The contract wasn’t just about giving Topaz legal status—it was a binding agreement tying you to her indefinitely.

A pair of familiar arms wrapped around your waist from behind.

"You finally noticed, huh?"

Topaz’s voice was warm against your ear, dripping with amusement. Her grip tightened slightly, just enough to keep you in place.

“I was wondering when you’d find out.”

"Topaz… what did you do?"

She hummed, resting her chin on your shoulder. "Nothing too drastic. I just made sure you wouldn’t leave me behind."

"I knew you'd be hesitant," she continued, as if this was completely normal. "So I planned ahead. This world is unpredictable, after all. What if you decided I didn’t belong here? What if you thought I’d be fine on my own?"

Her fingers traced lazy patterns against your skin, her voice lowering to something almost dangerous.

"I couldn’t risk that, could I?"

You should run.

But when she turned you around, her eyes burning with possession, your body betrayed you—drawn into a kiss that sealed your fate.

Your breath came in shallow gasps. The weight of the revelation crushed you, and before you could react—before you could even think—Topaz’s arms tightened around your waist.

She was stronger than she looked.

"Let go" you choked out, trying to push against her hold, but she didn’t budge.

“Why are you fighting me?” she murmured, her voice soft, coaxing, as if she were gentling you instead of trapping you. “Didn’t I do everything right? I worked hard, I adapted, I made myself worthy of this world—worthy of you.”

Her fingers dug into your sides slightly, grounding you, keeping you from slipping away.

"That’s not the point, Topaz!" Your voice wavered, frustration and something dangerously close to fear creeping in. “You’re a kind person. You saved that child. You helped people. Why—why go this far? Why force me into this when I never even tried to abandon you?”

“Exactly,” she whispered. “You never tried to abandon me… yet.”

Her hands trailed slowly up your arms.

“But what about tomorrow? What about a year from now? What if one day, you wake up and decide you don’t need me anymore?”

“You create life, but you don’t keep it. Everything you bring into this world gets adopted, moved, taken away.”

“I refuse to be just another creation that slips through your fingers.”

You struggled harder, twisting in her grasp, but then—

Thud

Something heavy landed against your feet, pinning them down.

Numby.

Then, the creature had plopped its entire weight onto you, pressing firmly, restricting movement.

“Numby?”

It cooed, rubbing its head against your leg—but it didn’t move off you.

Topaz exhaled, pleased. “Good job, Numby.”

"You even got Numby involved in this?"

“Of course,” she said lightly. “Numby loves me. And Numby knows what’s best for me." She leaned in, her breath fanning against your cheek. "And what’s best for me… is you.”

"I won’t let you slip away."

Then, before you could protest, her lips descended on yours again.

You tried to move, but between her grip and Numby’s weight, you were utterly trapped.

The worst part?

Somewhere, deep down, beneath the shock and the fear—you kissed her back.

Your teeth sank into Topaz’s lower lip, hard enough to taste blood.

She let out a sharp breath, momentarily loosening her grip. You should have used that moment to push her away, to run—but you didn’t.

Because despite everything, part of you knew it was already too late. You weren’t going anywhere.

Topaz's tongue flicked out to taste the blood, a smirk forming as she gazed at you. “You still have fight in you” she murmured. “Good. I don’t want you to break too easily.”

Numby pressed more of its weight onto you, ensuring you wouldn’t try anything else. It cooed—as if this was just another routine moment.

You had little choice. Within days, you were packed up and moved to a new place.

It wasn’t just a different neighborhood—it was an entirely separate sector controlled by Topaz’s people. A district bustling with traders, enforcers, and business elites, where everything operated under the watchful eye of a single authority: Topaz.

It was clear you wouldn’t be able to escape. Not when every street had her people stationed, not when Numby would follow you everywhere, ensuring you never wandered too far.

And Topaz?

She was busy—so busy.

You watched from the sidelines, carefully observing as Topaz commanded her subordinates.

The room was grand, a luxurious office filled with data projections and financial reports, with enforcers and officials standing at attention.

She sat at the head of the table, completely in control.

“Profits are up by 12%, but our collection efficiency is still below expectations” one of the officers reported.

Topaz crossed her legs, fingers tapping against the polished desk. “Unacceptable.” Her voice was sharp, unwavering. “I don’t care if the clients have excuses. We don’t run a charity.”

No one dared to oppose her.

“Double the enforcement on delinquent accounts,” she continued smoothly. “And if they can’t pay, remind them what happens to those who waste my time.”

The enforcers nodded immediately, moving to execute her orders.

Even in her absence, her power was absolute.

After an entire day of watching her command, dictate, and control—after witnessing the sheer authority she wielded over her subordinates—you expected her to return home and carry that same presence with her.

But you were wrong.

The moment she stepped through the door, the aura of the ruthless executive vanished.

“Y/N~”

Her voice was warm, almost syrupy as she called out to you, and before you could fully react, she had already wrapped herself around you, arms winding tightly around your waist.

Numby cooed happily beside her, nuzzling against your leg as if this had become an established routine.

You stiffened, still unsure how to react to this softer version of her.

Topaz pressed herself closer, resting her head against your shoulder with a satisfied hum. "Mmm… finally home."

“You were just terrifying a few hours ago,” you muttered. “Ordering enforcers to hunt down late payments, making your subordinates tremble—”

“And now I’m here,” she interrupted, nuzzling against your neck, “where none of that matters. Just you, me, and Numby.”

“You’re the only one who gets this side of me.”

“…You’re not letting me go, are you?”

She laughed softly, her breath tickling your skin. “Never.”

Then, before you could process it, she leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your lips.

“Now,” she purred, her eyes twinkling mischievously, “why don’t you tell me how much you missed me?”

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

And much more besides. And I got all of this through fraud and deception.

* * * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

February 3, 2025

Heather Cox Richardson

Feb 04, 2025

I’m going to start tonight by stating the obvious: the Republicans control both chambers of Congress: the House of Representatives and the Senate. They also control the White House and the Supreme Court. If they wanted to get rid of the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), for example, they could introduce a bill, debate it, pass it, and send it on to President Trump for his signature. And there would be very little the Democrats could do to stop that change.

But they are not doing that.

Instead, they are permitting unelected billionaire Elon Musk, whose investment of $290 million in Trump and other Republican candidates in the 2024 election apparently has bought him freedom to run the government, to override Congress and enact whatever his own policies are by rooting around in government agencies and cancelling those programs that he, personally, dislikes.

The replacement of our constitutional system of government with the whims of an unelected private citizen is a coup. The U.S. president has no authority to cut programs created and funded by Congress, and a private citizen tapped by a president has even less standing to try anything so radical.

But Republicans are allowing Musk to run amok. This could be because they know that Trump has embraced the idea that the American government is a “Deep State,” but that the extreme cuts the MAGA Republicans say they want are actually quite unpopular with Americans in general, and even with most Republican voters. By letting Musk make the cuts the MAGA base wants, they can both provide those cuts and distance themselves from them.

But permitting a private citizen to override the will of our representatives in Congress destroys the U.S. Constitution. It also makes Congress itself superfluous. And it takes the minority rule Republicans have come to embrace to the logical end of putting government power in the hands of one man.

Musk’s team in the so-called Department of Government Efficiency, or DOGE, has taken control of the U.S. Treasury payment systems that handle about $6 trillion in annual transactions for the U.S. government, thus gaining access to Americans' personal information as well as information about Musk's competitors. From there, Musk claims to have been cancelling those transactions he thinks are wasteful. He claims, for example, to have “deleted” the popular Internal Revenue Service (IRS) Direct File system that enabled people to file their taxes online for free, without the help of paid tax preparers.

Musk’s team apparently consists of six engineers, aged 19 to 24, who are taking control of the computers at government agencies. From the Treasury Department, they went on to the U.S. Agency for International Development, which receives foreign policy guidance from the State Department. Their breaching of the computers there compromises our national intelligence systems, which must now be considered insecure.

From there, they went on to the General Services Administration (GSA), which manages the federal government’s 7,500 or so buildings. Musk’s people sent an email to regional managers telling them to begin ending the leases on federal offices. According to Chris Megerian of the Associated Press, the person in charge of that initiative is Nicole Hollander, who describes herself on LinkedIn as employed at Musk’s social media company, X.

Today, according to an email sent to employees of the Small Business Administration, Musk’s people have gotten into that agency’s human resources, contracts, and payment systems. The Small Business Administration supports small businesses and entrepreneurs, and under the Biden-Harris administration, small businesses boomed thanks to small-dollar loans to women, Black, and Latino entrepreneurs.

By this afternoon, Musk’s people were digging into the data of the Department of Education with an eye to dismantling it from the inside before Trump tries to shut it down with an executive order, although only Congress itself can shutter the department. According to Laura Meckler, Danielle Douglas-Gabriel, and Hannah Natanson of the Washington Post, Musk’s DOGE staffers had accessed sensitive internal data systems, including the personal information of millions of students who are taking part in the federal student aid program. It is highly unlikely that Congress would destroy the Department of Education, so Musk and Trump hope to hollow it out from within.

On a livestream last night, Musk said of his destruction of the federal government: “If it’s not possible now, it will never be possible. This is our shot, This is the best hand of cards we’re ever going to have. If we don’t take advantage of this best hand of cards, it’s never going to happen.”

Three federal employees unions are suing the Trump administration to stop Musk, and today, Democratic members of the House and Senate tried to enter the USAID building but were denied entry. Led by Senators Chris Murphy (D-CT), Brian Schatz (D-HI) and Chris Van Hollen (D-MD) and Representatives Jamie Raskin (D-MD) and Gerry Connolly (D-VA), the Democrats condemned what Raskin called Musk and Trump’s “illegal, unconstitutional interference with congressional power.”

“Elon Musk, you may have illegally seized power over the financial payment systems of the United States Department of Treasury,” Raskin said, “but you don’t control the money of the American people. The United States Congress does that—under Article I of the Constitution. And just like the president, who was elected to something, cannot impound the money of the people, we don’t have a fourth branch of government called Elon Musk. And that’s going to become real clear.”

Senator Murphy said: "[L]et's not pull any punches about why this is happening. Elon Musk makes billions of dollars based off of his business with China. And China is cheering at [the destruction of USAID]. There is no question that the billionaire class trying to take over our government right now is doing it based on self-interest: their belief that if they can make us weaker in the world, if they can elevate their business partners all around the world, they will gain the benefit.”

Murphy continued: “But there’s another reason this is happening. They’re shuttering agencies and sending employees home in order to create the illusion that they’re saving money, in order to…pass a giant tax cut for billionaires and corporations.”

While Musk and his DOGE team are trying systematically to dismantle the government, today Judge Loren L. AliKhan of the Federal District Court for the District of Columbia blocked the Trump administration’s attempt to freeze trillions of dollars in grants and loans before DOGE got going. AliKhan said that by impounding funds—which Congress declared illegal in 1974—Trump’s Office of Management and Budget “attempted to wrest the power of the purse away from the only branch of government entitled to wield it.” It is Congress, not the president, that determines federal spending.

Meanwhile, the elected president, Donald Trump, sparked a crisis last Friday when his White House press secretary, Karoline Leavitt, announced that he fully intended to go through with the trade war he had hyped on the campaign trail. Trump announced he would levy tariffs of 25% on most products from Mexico and Canada and of 10% on products from China, beginning at 12:01 a.m. on Tuesday, in violation of the trade agreement his own team had negotiated during his first term.

As soon as Leavitt announced the upcoming tariffs, the stock market began to fall, and by last night, stock market futures had fallen 450 points on the expectation of tariffs hitting at midnight tonight. Today, the stock market continued to fall. Even reliable Trump allies began to complain that the tariffs would raise prices. The Wall Street Journal editorial board called Trump’s tariffs “the dumbest trade war in history.”

Today, the president of Mexico, Claudia Sheinbaum, announced that she and Trump had “reached a series of agreements” that would pause the threatened tariffs for a month. Mexico agreed to “reinforce the northern border with 10,000 elements of the National Guard immediately, to prevent drug trafficking from Mexico to the United States,” while the U.S. “commits to work to prevent the trafficking of high-powered weapons to Mexico.”

When Trump announced their conversation shortly afterward, he omitted the part of the agreement that committed the U.S. to try to stop the flow of guns to Mexico. He also did not mention that, in fact, Mexico committed to putting 10,000 troops at the border in 2021. As Catherine Rampell of the Washington Post commented above a record of Mexican troop deployments: “Any news outlet reporting Mexico conceded anything to Trump to get him to delay tariffs has not done its homework. Trump boasts he got Mexico to commit to stationing 10K troops at our border. Apparently he didn’t realize Mexico already has 15K troops deployed there[.]”

The crisis at the northern border worked out in a similar fashion. After conferring, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and Trump announced a 30-day pause in the implementation of tariffs. Trudeau agreed to appoint a border czar and to implement a $1.3 billion border plan that Canada had announced in December.

In other words, while Musk was causing a constitutional crisis, Trump created an economic crisis that threatened both domestic and global chaos, then claimed Biden administration achievements as his own and declared victory.

The tariffs on Chinese goods went into effect as planned. China has promised to levy tariffs of up to 15% on certain U.S. products beginning a week from today. It also said it will investigate Google to see if it has violated antitrust laws.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[solxamber]

So, reading that fashion disaster reader, I want to ask how would everyone else (seperately, if possible) would react to fashion disaster Yuu and to the Crewel's and Vil's reaction?

thank you for the request! I kept it a little short but if you want anyone's longer, just let me know <3 Characters: All NRC + Staff + Rollo Part 1 with Vil and Crewel here

Riddle Rosehearts:

Before: He’d be mortified, his eye twitching in disbelief. "Rule 203 clearly states: Students must dress with decorum! What…what is this?" He’d try to ban your entire outfit for being an affront to Heartslabyul’s order.

After: Relieved and pleased. "Finally! You’re within the bounds of fashion etiquette. You’re setting a much better example now."

Trey Clover:

Before: Trey would give you a gentle smile, but his eyebrow would twitch. "You look, uh… comfortable? Maybe Vil could give you some tips…"

After: "Wow, you clean up really well. Nice to see you let Vil and Crewel work their magic."

Cater Diamond:

Before: He’d be snapping selfies with you, hashtagging #BoldChoices #FashionDisaster #OMGWhatIsThis. But deep down, even he couldn’t handle it. "You’re killing me, but this is hilarious!"

After: "Now that’s a look that’ll get you trending for the * right reasons! Let’s get another selfie. #FashionGlowUp!"

Ace Trappola:

Before: "What in the seven are you wearing?! Are you trying to blind us all or is this some kind of prank?" He’d mock you endlessly.

After: "You actually look… good? Whoa, Vil really pulled off a miracle."

Deuce Spade:

Before: He wouldn’t know how to approach it politely. "Uh… You sure that’s…right?" He’d second-guess himself but try to support you anyway.

After: "Hey! You look awesome now. Nice job!"

Leona Kingscholar

Before: Leona would look at you, groan, and then roll over to take a nap. "You look ridiculous. Do whatever you want, herbivore. I don’t care."

After: "Huh, didn’t think it was possible, but you’re less of an eyesore now."

Ruggie Bucchi:

Before: He’d laugh until his sides hurt. "Heh, are you doing this on purpose? This is hilarious!"

After: "Vil and Crewel got to you, huh? Well, you definitely don’t look like a clown anymore. Nice upgrade."

Jack Howl:

Before: Jack would be confused. "Why are you dressed like that? Isn’t that… impractical?" He wouldn’t get why anyone would wear such an outfit.

After: He’d nod approvingly. "Now that’s better. More efficient, too."

Azul Ashengrotto:

Before: He’d adjust his glasses, hiding his discomfort behind a business smile. "Perhaps you might be interested in a makeover contract. For a modest fee, of course."

After: "Ah, much better. Consider this an investment in your future…image."

Jade Leech:

Before: Jade would smile his eerie smile, but his eyes would narrow in curiosity. "What a… unique choice. I trust there’s an explanation for this?"

After: "Ah, a significant improvement. You look quite presentable now."

Floyd Leech

Before: Floyd would crack up and nickname you something like "Clownfish." He’d tease you every chance he got. "Hahaha! What kinda sea creature are ya trying to be?"

After: "Boooo, now you’re no fun. You’re too normal now."

Kalim Al-Asim:

Before: Kalim would be completely unbothered. "Wow! That’s such a fun outfit! I love all the colors!" He’d probably compliment you

After: "You look so stylish! Did Vil help? He’s amazing!"

Jamil Viper:

Before: Jamil would pinch the bridge of his nose. "You’re attracting too much attention. Please… just tone it down."

After: He’d breathe a sigh of relief. "Finally. I can look at you without getting a headache."

Rook

Before: "Oh, mon cher! Such daring, such avant-garde!" Rook would dramatically praise your boldness, though it’s unclear whether he genuinely liked it or was just entertained.

After: "Magnifique! You now embody the very essence of beauty and grace!"

Epel Felmier:

Before: He’d be torn between finding it hilarious and hoping Vil didn’t see you like that. "Whoa, what’s that getup? You really don’t care what anyone thinks, do ya?"

After: "Hey, look at you! Now Vil won’t roast us both."

Idia Shroud:

Before: He’d wince and immediately pull up his hoodie, wanting to avoid eye contact. "Uh… Yeah, that’s… something. Did you lose a bet or…?"

After: "I guess Vil’s magic worked. You look like a normal NPC now, congrats."

Ortho Shroud:

Before: "Oh! That’s such a cool outfit! But maybe Vil might have some better ideas?" He’d try to be polite.

After: "Wow! You look so amazing now! Big brother was impressed!"

Malleus Draconia:

Before: Malleus would be unfazed, possibly curious. "You wear strange garments, but I suppose it suits your unique aura." He might think it's some sort of fashion ritual.

After: "You look more refined now, though I did find your previous attire… intriguing."

Lilia Vanrouge:

Before: Lilia would love your odd fashion sense, probably find it nostalgic. "Haha, you remind me of the old days when we wore whatever we could find!"

After: "Ah, you’ve grown into a more elegant butterfly! Though, I will miss your… eccentric flair."

Silver:

Before: Silver would be confused but wouldn’t judge too harshly. "Is this normal fashion? I… don’t really keep up with trends."

After: "You look good now. Vil and Crewel really did a great job."

Sebek Zigvolt:

Before: He’d be outraged. "HOW DARE YOU DRESS LIKE THIS IN THE PRESENCE OF MALLEUS-SAMA?! Have you no shame?!"

After: "Finally, you show some respect! You are no longer an eyesore."

Rollo Flamme:

Before: Rollo would be horrified. "How could you walk around dressed like this? This is an affront to decency and modesty!"

After: Reluctantly approving. "At least now you don’t look like you’ve descended into madness."

Crowley:

Before: Crowley would overreact, saying something like, "Ah! Such tragic attire! Fear not, for I shall personally oversee your rehabilitation, even if it wasn’t my fault to begin with!"

After: "Ah, what a stunning transformation! I knew you had it in you all along, of course."

Mozus Trein:

Before: He’d shake his head, muttering something about the younger generation. "I cannot understand these choices. Please, for the sake of my old eyes, change."

After: "Much better. At least you now resemble a student who takes their education seriously."

Ashton Vargas:

Before: Vargas would shrug it off. "As long as you can run laps, I don’t care what you wear."

After: "Lookin’ sharp! Just don’t let it slow you down on the field."

Sam:

Before: "Well, well, look at you! I have some accessories that might make that outfit pop even more!"

After: "Ah, I see Vil’s had a hand in this. You’ve got the look now!"

Grim:

Before: "Nyahaha! What kinda weird stuff are you wearing?! You look like you got dressed in the dark!"

After: "Wow, you actually look good now! Guess you’re not as hopeless as I thought."

Masterlist

[cicilychann]

HAIKYUU BOYS + WHAT “REAL-LIFE MAN ROLE” THEY NATURALLY TAKE ON IN A RELATIONSHIP (REALISTICALLY) Part 1

🌻: Part 2

જ⁀➴⋆˚✿˖°₊ ⊹ᝰ.ᐟ જ⁀➴⋆˚✿˖°₊ ⊹ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴⋆

Sawamura Daichi

• Handles all the “adulting” without needing to be asked (bills, car stuff, appointments).

• Checks doors twice, makes sure the heater’s off, always the one driving.

• Naturally becomes the protector-provider type without bragging.

• Doesn’t hover but always knows what’s going on with you.

• The man you’d trust to answer the door when there’s a weird knock at 2AM.

Kuroo Tetsurou

• The planner. He researches everything before booking anything.

• Takes charge of all “outside world” interactions (dealing with mechanics, awkward neighbors, movers).

• Will stand next to you while you’re getting attitude from someone just to back you up quietly.

• Handles real-life problems with wit and sarcasm but always follows through.

• Not the “soft” type in relationships, but he’s always two steps ahead on logistics.

Akaashi Keiji

• The one reading contracts and receipts while you’re still getting your shoes on.

• Handles appointments, scheduling, and anything that requires thinking ahead.

• Doesn’t show off, but he handles things: broken appliances, refund calls, last-minute emergencies.

• He’ll carry your things, open your water bottles, and double-check your medicine dose without being asked.

• Quiet but high-functioning. Solid man.

Iwaizumi Hajime

• Naturally takes over safety/maintenance roles (checking the oil, lifting the heavy boxes).

• Doesn’t speak over you, but will step up to confront rudeness when needed.

• Plans around your comfort without making a show of it (like parking closer, avoiding crowded times).

• Remembers small physical needs (you need water, meds, jacket, etc.) more than emotional talks.

• Grounded. You feel safe walking next to him.

Kageyama Tobio

• Awkward at first but always wants to be useful.

• Will literally carry all your bags without being asked.

• Doesn't talk much, but acts fast: gets your umbrella, fixes things, steps in when someone talks over you.

• Over time becomes the kind of man who memorizes your routine just to support it better.

• Not romantic, but reliable in the practical ways that matter.

Oikawa Tooru

• Handles the public side of the relationship: bookings, food orders, event RSVPs.

• Carries conversations when you don’t want to talk to strangers.

• Does things efficiently and stylishly, like planning trips or hosting.

• Surprisingly domestic; cleans up fast, keeps his space tidy, and gets annoyed if the Wi-Fi goes down.

• When it’s serious, he does not play: calls the doctor, drives you to the ER, handles emergencies like a boss.

Tsukishima Kei

• Doesn’t seem like the “manly in-charge” type but lowkey takes control when it counts.

• Always aware of surroundings, remembers important details (your schedule, allergies, etc.).

• Doesn’t enjoy doing favors, but does them anyway.

• The one who’ll say “Why didn’t you ask me?” while he’s already fixing it.

• Handles awkward or shady situations in public with quiet confidence.

Hinata Shoyou

• Learns to step up through trial and error.

• Big on “acts of service” once he figures out what you need, he’ll walk far to get your favorite food.

• Handles basic roles like carrying things, walking on the street side, and checking on you constantly.

• Might be impulsive, but he’ll do what’s needed the moment you’re in discomfort.

• Always trying to be the “man” in the relationship even if he fumbles. (LOL🤣)

Atsumu Miya

• Will argue like a brat but acts like a man when it counts.

• Orders food, picks the hotel, drives everywhere, kills the bugs.

• Likes being the one “in charge” but respects your space.

• Surprisingly quick to handle medical or safety stuff when needed.

• Show-off tendencies aside, he won’t let you lift a finger when he’s around.

Sakusa Kiyoomi

• Responsible in a quiet, clinical way.

• Keeps sanitizer in the car, plans buffer time into schedules, sets up your doctor appointments.

• Handles anything messy or complicated with zero hesitation—but you have to let him.

• Doesn’t say much, but he does everything the moment he sees a gap.

• Most likely to handle family problems behind the scenes before you even notice.

—⁠☆

[rottenpumpkin13]

agszc is balanced in the most unbalanced way

they all cover each other’s weaknesses

but there weaknesses are p much covering the “how to be a functioning adult” chart

and while gen & geal probably have the most independent adult life skills, they are not the ones keeping this group functioning by being the ducttape holding up those camouflage tarps

that job is for the smallest, non-chain of command placing, unenhanced , self esteem issues ridden, etc., named cloud

who has been gifted the secret cat corralling limit break beneath it all by the goddess herself

The AGSZC Adulting Proficiency Chart™ is as follows:

S-Tier: The Backbone, The Cat Herder, The Only Thing Keeping This Group From Dying of Sheer Stupidity

Cloud Strife

Strengths: Basic life skills, survival instincts, is technically an unenhanced baseline human yet somehow outlasts everyone else here. Can cook food that won't kill you. Can do laundry. Knows where things like tax documents are supposed to go.

Weaknesses: Crippling self-esteem issues, no social rank to enforce his authority, everyone is taller than him so they think they don't have to listen. Tries to act cool and unbothered but is actually a dork who does not know how to interact with other human beings and makes jokes at the wrong time.

A-Tier: Could Survive Alone, But The Moment You Add Another Person, Chaos Ensues

Angeal Hewley

Strengths: Knows how to cook, clean, budget, and generally behave like a responsible adult. Has the most conventional common sense. The kind of guy who owns a toolbox and actually knows how to use it.

Weaknesses: Will adopt every lost soul he sees, including the feral ones, and then act shocked when they fight each other. Too honorable for his own good. Breaks his own phone constantly. Is pretty chill but when he finally snaps, it's old testament levels of wrath. Full-on "fuck this, fuck you, fuck Shinra, I'm quitting, I'm moving to a remote mountain where no one can find me, don't call, don’t write, I'll eat tree bark if I have to" kind of breakdown. But give him ten minutes and a single cup of tea, and he'll act like nothing happened.

Genesis Rhapsodos

Strengths: Self-sufficient, knows how to handle finances (for the sake of luxury, but still), good at cooking for himself. Can talk his way out of anything.

Weaknesses: Drama queen. Absolutely useless if the task does not personally interest him. Has never read a contract in full in his life. Once lived off apples and wine for two weeks straight.

B-Tier: Technically a Functioning Adult, But That's Only Because He's Too Stubborn to Die

Sephiroth

Strengths: Can manage his own schedule, extremely efficient, good at planning missions and strategizing. Understands how to budget because Shinra made him, not because he wanted to.

Weaknesses: Zero concept of work-life balance. Does not eat unless reminded. Has never used a washing machine in his life. Would be absolutely bamboozled by grocery shopping.

C-Tier: Chaos Personified, An Affront to Responsibility, A Walking Insurance Liability

Zack Fair

Strengths: Strong, charming, good at improvising. Could talk his way into or out of anything. Surprisingly adept at surviving by sheer dumb luck.

Weaknesses: No concept of money. No concept of personal space. Will start a project, get distracted, and start five more before finishing the first. If left to his own devices, he will eat nothing but instant ramen and protein bars.

[strawberry-bubblef]

this one's too self indulgent for me, but may i request for octavinelle dealing with a first year!reader? (who is also a merperson like them) perhaps they'll also be introducing them to the business - 🎣 anon

Octavinelle introducing a first year!reader to their business

Azul Ashengrotto

From the moment you stepped into Night Raven College, Azul saw potential. A fellow merperson,one who could understand the intricacies of the ocean’s hierarchy,was a rare find. He approached you with his usual businesslike charm, offering a smooth introduction to the Monstro Lounge. “You see dear..” he’d say, adjusting his glasses, “running a business is an art form one that you, as a fellow merperson, could truly appreciate. The ocean is a cutthroat place, is it not?”

Under Azul’s guidance, you found yourself learning the fundamentals of negotiation, persuasion, and contract-making. He was meticulous in his teachings, ensuring that every lesson benefited both you and, of course, his business. If you had a sharp mind, he would encourage you to assist him in handling deals, teaching you the fine art of turning a casual conversation into a profitable transaction. If you were more hands-on, he’d place you in customer service, watching closely as you dealt with difficult clients. Azul valued efficiency and results, and if you performed well, he would reward you with privileges within Octavinelle.

“You’re catching on quickly,” he’d murmur with a pleased smile. “Perhaps, with time, you might even be able to manage a sector of the Lounge yourself. How does that sound?”

Despite his composed exterior, Azul had high hopes for you. As a fellow merperson, he believed you had the potential to navigate the tricky waters of business as he did. However, he was always testing you,watching to see if you would swim alongside him or sink under the pressure. After all, success in Octavinelle wasn’t granted freely, it was earned.

Jade Leech

Jade was far less direct than Azul, but no less influential. He observed you with that ever-mysterious smile, only stepping in when he deemed necessary. If you found yourself helping around the Lounge, Jade would stand beside you, his voice smooth and measured. “It’s quite fascinating to see how surface dwellers handle their affairs, isn’t it? I wonder how you’ll adapt.”

He had a way of testing your limits, sometimes in ways you didn’t even realize until it was too late. If you had a natural curiosity, he’d subtly lead you down intriguing paths,introducing you to rare ingredients for the Lounge’s menu or engaging you in conversations about the vast unknowns of the ocean. You often found yourself listening to his stories, unsure of how much was truth and how much was simply his amusement at watching your reactions.

“Have you ever encountered a sea creature capable of hypnotizing its prey?” he’d ask, watching as you hesitated. “Ah, well… some say the eyes of a certain eel can do just that.”

If you were more reserved, he’d push just enough to see how you reacted, always watching, always amused. He enjoyed watching you squirm under his subtle challenges, especially when you least expected them. If you ever asked him outright what his intentions were, he would simply chuckle and tilt his head. “Why, I simply wish to know you better, my dear fellow merperson. Is that not natural?”

Unlike Azul, who wanted to shape you into a perfect business partner, Jade was more interested in observing your growth. He enjoyed watching your choices, your reactions, and the way you navigated the social dynamics of Night Raven College. It was a game to him, and you were an intriguing new piece on the board.

Floyd Leech

“Aww, Shrimpy’s one of us? That makes it even better!” Floyd’s enthusiasm upon finding out you were a merperson was immediate and overwhelming. Unlike Azul and Jade, who had their own calculated ways of integrating you into Octavinelle, Floyd simply decided you were his new favorite plaything.

From that moment on, he dragged you into his chaos. “C’mon, let’s have some fun! Working at the Lounge’s not all boring, y’know~” His version of ‘fun’ often involved skipping work to explore, pranking unlucky customers, or suddenly testing your reflexes in ways that left you questioning whether he was trying to train you or torment you.

If you handled him well,matching his energy or at least keeping your cool,he’d grin and declare “Shrimpy’s got some bite! I like it!” If you struggled, well… you’d better hope Azul was around to keep him in check. Either way, Floyd made sure that life in Octavinelle was never dull for you.

Unlike Azul and Jade, who had a method to their actions, Floyd was unpredictable. One day, he’d drag you into the Lounge’s kitchen to test new menu items, only to shove something suspiciously glowing in your hands with a mischievous grin. “Try it~ Let’s see if it makes you glow too!” Another day, he might throw an arm around your shoulders and suddenly start swimming at top speed in the school’s underground waterways, laughing as you struggled to keep up.

But despite his erratic nature, there was an odd sort of camaraderie in Floyd’s actions. He treated you like a true sibling,sometimes annoying, sometimes overbearing, but undeniably protective. If anyone dared to mess with you, his entire demeanor would shift, his grip tightening as his usual grin turned sharp. “What do you think you’re doing to my little Shrimpy?”

English is not my first language !