#matronly affection

[darcydarlingdabbles]

You are Safe - Deepest Desires

//One shot of Deepest Desires - Astarion Drabble. Very fluffy/comforting smut with many feelings. Not edited... Song Rec: Light by Sleeping at Last//

Explicit, Astarion x f!Tav, post cannon, 2.2k

cw: coping with sex/intimacy issues & allusions to Astarion's past

Astarion Ancunin was a sight to behold in any light.

The moon might make him look like some ethereally wicked beauty, but Tav much preferred the golden glow they were bathed in now. 

She sank into the plush leather sofa near the crackling hearth, cradling a cup of mulled wine. The spiced aroma chased away the chill of the night fallen outside the inn as her eyes drew lazily over the trophies adoring the walls—swords, shields, mounted heads of beasts. Theirs was just another story to add to the collection. 

Tav might be warmer still, without the vampire stretched out languidly beside her, but she would not give up the comfort of his closeness for the world.

“You know, I still don’t like being the hero. It is beyond tedium. ”

Astarion mused over the rim of his cup, as if he could detect her thoughts and had to refute them. 

“That so? You play the part so well.” Tav quipped back lovingly. 

“Well, I suppose I do enjoy all of the fawning adulation.”  Astarion mused. “And the gold, of course.” 

Tav shook her head fondly. She’d let him maintain the charade as long as he liked; she had already seen under the mask. He sent a smirk her way, his ruby eyes glinting with the firelight. Distracting her from the way he was balancing his goblet on its very edge, one of his dexterous fingers on lip of the drink, tilting further and further as if he dared the wine inside to spill. 

Or he was simply teasing Tav with the threat of it. 

“Beggin’ your pardon,” The inn keeper, a matronly half-orc with a smile around her tusks approached them. “Finest room we have is ready for ya, token of our gratitude for dealin’ with our Worg problem.”

“Thank you, Gerda, that’s too kind of you.” Tav said graciously. “We’re happy we could help.” 

She shot her companion a glance, but he was intently finishing his wine with only a raise of his eyebrows. 

She felt Astarion’s eyes on her as she conversed cordially with the inn keeper, his gaze as tangible as a caress along her cheek. Tav knew the warmth of that look. Little flickering moments of unguarded affection more sincere than any pretty picture his words could paint. 

The only recognition Tav gave was the smile at the corner of her lips. Because that was the game they played. Sparing his pride until the rest of the world faded away. 

This. This was everything she fought for. These quiet nights  brighter than any flames. 

…

Soon they retreated to the comfort of their room after a long day. Astarion led her up the stairs, silently twining their fingers together. Tav knew it was another gesture she wasn’t supposed to linger on, but if he kept this up, the dam would burst sooner rather than later. 

He pushed the door to their chambers open with an overly theatrical flourish. “Not quite fit for a king…but I suppose it will do.” 

Tav rolled her eyes, stepping past him to take in a very comfortable room that was downright luxurious in its details. Plush carpet, dark wood walls, and a canopied bed piled with silken sheets and pillows. 

“After sleeping in bedrools on the hard ground,” Tav put her hands on her hips, a smile on her lips with her tone placating him. “I think it will suffice.” 

Astarion came up behind her then, his cool breath ghosting over her ear as he murmured. “Then it is a shame you will not have the time to admire the finer details.” 

In the second of warning he gave, Tav knew well he could hear every uptick of her heart.

Astarion had her spun around, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. Tav’s back hit the wall with a soft thud, her lover’s lithe body pinning her in place as he lifted their still entwined hands above her head. 

Those clever fingers hand already snuck under the hem of her tunic, drawing lines over the swell of her hip. 

“I have all that I need to admire.” Tav arched to the touch with a sigh as she finally exhaled. 

“Such flattery.” Astarion’s smirk was downright sinful, sending heat and want curling through her. Those ruby eyes glinted bright in the soft firelight of the room. 

Soon, their packs were dropped to the side, shedding the last trappings of battle with the armor and gore already tucked away. Leaving no more barriors between them as passion sparked in the scant space between them. His nibble fingers made quick work of the laces of her tunic, the fabric falling away to expose her collarbones, and her chest. 

Tav lifted her chin, playfully offering her neck, knowing how it thrilled him though he would not bite—not just yet. But Astarion would duck his head to draw his teeth teasingly along the colomn of her throat. 

She peered over his white curls. “My love, the door is still—” A sharp kick shut the door, and its lever lock clicked into place. “Thank you.” 

Astarion’s scoff tingled against her pulse point. He was far more preoccupied with mapping out the newly exposed skin, like it hadn’t been under his lips a thousand times. As if he wasn’t intimately familiar and once again confident with his ability to drive her mad. As if she didn’t know him just as well. 

When he pulled back to rid her of her pesky tunic, she used her chance. Tav’s fingers slid into his silky curls, just brushing her thumbs over the tips of his pointed ears. 

That got his attention. 

Astarion made a low, pleased sound in the back of his throat, finding her mouth again. 

The kisses grew more urgent as Astarion pressed Tav back against the wood-paneled wall, her arms around his shoulders as he used his thigh to part hers. 

Easy as could be, like they were dancing together again. Tav took his lead, her leg hooked around his waist before he had to reach for her. Their bodies were brought flush together--letting her feel the hard press of his arousal. 

“It would be a shame,” Tav murmured against the vampire’s lips. “Not to make use of the bed, don’t you think? I know how much you do enjoy fine linens.” 

Astarion laughed, the sound decadent yet playful. “My darling, the only thing more appealing than being wrapped up in silk, is being wrapped up in you.” 

Heat flooded into her cheeks, just like he knew it would. Even now, his lines always worked on her. 

Tav reached for the hem of Astarion’s shirt, ridding him of it and letting it join her tunic on the floor. He was already walking her back towards the bed—but it just wasn’t enough to map out the planes of his chest with her fingers, hooking into the waist of his breaches. 

“Can I?” Tav lifted her eyes, her mouth already watering. 

“You hardly have to ask.” He purred, pecking her lips just once more. “But…I’m glad that you did.” 

She always would. Sometimes to his annoyance, but the vampire seemed more than in the mood to humor her sweetness tonight.  Astarion freed his cock from his breeches as he sat back on the bed, stroking himself languidly, watching her with bright ruby eyes as she eagerly sank to her knees. 

He was so damn gorgeous like this, confident in seeking his pleasure, knowing Tav was more than willing to give. 

Her hand curled around his, before she was drawing the tip of him between her lips. She adored the sweet, strangled sound he gave as he relenquished his hold to her, those deft fingers threading into her hair as she swallowed him down. 

Tav loved him like this. Loved that she was the one who got to see Astarion this way—wanting and vulnerable and utterly hers. 

She poured every ounce of devotion into the slide of her mouth, wanting him to shatter from it. For all pretense to fall away like the filthy praise faltering from his lips, and let her catch him when he fell. 

Astarion tensed under her, the muscles in his thighs and the hand in her hair gone ridgid. 

Tav pulled back, her eyes seeking his, looking for the glassy sheen to cover his red irises or the distance in his gaze. “You can let go, love.” lacing the reassurance his ego sometimes spurned in a seductive purr. “I want you to.” 

Astarion’s scoff was breathier than he intended, she could see it on his face, but the hand in her hair curled around her chin, capturing her jaw as he bent to claim her lips. 

“As tempting as that mouth of yours may be…I’d much rather be inside you.” 

Her pulse quickened under his hold. 

Tav was on her feet, ridding herself of any thing that could get between them. Before straddling Astarion’s lap. Reveling in his groan as he tasted himself on her tongue. 

Those damned fingers of his were already delving between her soaked folds, thumbing her clit so perfectly it was maddening in an instant. 

“Astarion, please…” Tav breathed against his mouth. 

“I know darling.” His grin nipped at her lower lip, fingers sliding into her and curling just so. “No one knows you as I do.”

He was distracting her, and he was so very, very good at it. Tav rocked needily into him, pleasure sparking up her spine. Her fingers  clutched into the fine curls at the back of his neck. Trying to ground herself to meet his burning gaze. 

“No one loves you as I do.” 

Something beautifully yearning moved across his face. The ghost of a longing to be known—and to still be loved. It was all he could never bring himself to ask for, and yet she gave it, freely, whenever she thought he may need it. 

The next meeting of their lips was filled with nothing but tenderness, even as he pulled her closer still, breaking only as he filled her completely. 

Astarion’s grip tightened on her hips, and Tav understood. 

She let him bear her back onto the plush bed, surrendering to his need for control. Her hands fell back to either side of the pillow, as she searched the ethereal beauty of his face above her, assuring herself that he wasn’t lost to the old shadows. 

Clear crimson eyes gazed back at her, their only darkness that of desire. 

Satisfied, Tav wrapped her legs around Astarion’s waist, urging him deeper inside her. He obliged her with a precise roll of his hips that nearly had stars bursting behind her eyelids. 

“That’s it, my love.” Astarion purred, his breath played over her lips as his body moved with hers, sweet and aching, their fingers wound together even as he kept her wrists pinned. 

Tav could feel the edge of her bliss tugging at her, the way she clenched desperately around his cock, it was so damn close—

Astarion shuddered above her, tensing on instinct, resisting that final surrender, even now. His old wounds would never go fully away, but she could soothe them when they surfaced. Because she knew him. 

“Let go, my love, I have you.” 

He did, spilling into her with a choked cry, his hips snapping hard and fast into hers, sending pleasure that arched up her spine until it overwhelmed her. 

Spent, still tangled together, collapsed together. 

Astarion’s cool skin was a balm against her heated body, when he finally released her hands. Tav’s arms wrapped around him, feeling the faintest of trembling in the raw moments after.  He hid his face crook of her shoulder, letting her fingers slide through his curls. 

Tav shifted only enough to bare her throat to him, remembering how he teased that she tasted better shortly after their coupling. 

Far from a distraction, it was a gesture of the intimate trsut they shared. Astarion only hesitated a moment, before sharp fangs pierced her skin, and Tav relaxed into the familiar heat and sting. 

He drank from her, lost in the bliss of her blood. Comforted by the familiarity of it. 

When the vampire pulled back, a trickle of red dripped from his grin, and Tav swiped it away with her thumb. 

Astarion turned his face into her touch, a kiss pressed into her palm. Before he gathered her into his arms for the rest of the night. 

…

Golden sunlight crept across the room as dark became day. 

Astarion stayed with his head tucked under Tav’s chin, her heart beat a comforting rhythm against his ear. He stirred only as the warm glow softened his sharp features, and she finally gave in to the urge to trace the contours of his face. 

Astarion’s eyes fluttered open, immediately seeking hers. A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he lifted a hand to caress her cheek in turn, the warmth of the Ring of Daylight around his fourth finger a delicious contrast to his cool skin. 

“Looking for a cuddle?” he asked, his tone playful yet tender, echoing their first morning together.

Tav laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “Always,” she replied, her heart swelling with love for this man who had come so far, who had learned to trust and to love despite everything he’d endured.

Their fingers intertwined with the comforting sound of his ring meeting hers. Warmed by the golden light forevermore. 

[starsinmylatte]

𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚘𝚐

Here is my submission for @kentopedia's wonderful Love Through the Ages collab!

➻ Summary: Trapped in the gilded cage of Victorian high society, you were determined to rebel. You ran the streets in disguise at night and threw yourself into your work as a typist for Scotland Yard during the day, rejecting the label of “quiet, submissive woman.”  Further rebuffing the ideals of your time, you scoffed at the idea of love and marriage, but a certain blonde Detective Inspector always seemed to make your heart flutter. You’re assigned to work a case under him, and your feelings only grow more complicated… but will your budding romance be able to survive one of history’s most infamous murderers?

➻ Pairing: Nanami Kento x afab!Reader

➻ Rating: Explicit (18+, minors DNI)

➻ Word Count: 8.2k

➻ Warnings: Explicit sexual content and Discussions of the Jack the Ripper case/thematic elements related to the case/time period (rape, poverty, etc.)

➻ Song recommendations (in order):

Toxic- From “Promising Young Woman” Soundtrack performed by Anthony Willis  Les feuilles mortes- Jean-Michael Blais The Swan- Camille Saint-Saëns

➻ Author's note: I did a ton of research to make sure I had my details correct, so there are tons of easter eggs hidden in the fic. I had a lot of fun with this one!

Join my taglist here!

Colors flew through the air as you tossed various skirts, bodices, and any other accessories unfortunate enough to catch your ire clear across the room. They hit your quilted bedsheets with an audible thunk as Misato shook her head at your antics, tsking at you from the corner. 

“Love, you’ll be late if you carry on like that. Wipe that scowl off and pick one already.” 

You shot the maid another half-hearted frown, looking as grim as a young woman clad in only her chemise, garters, and stockings could. Misato strode over with matronly confidence, snatching the next garment out of your hands before it could grace the top of the pile. She held the bodice up, inspecting it in the clear morning light before giving a brisk nod. 

“Right then, this will do. It’s posh enough to keep your father happy without all those extra frills and ruffles you hate. Grab that skirt, and let’s get on with it.” 

You did as you were told, albeit extremely unenthusiastically. Misato hummed soothingly, draping the familiar weight of a corset around your waist. This was a dance you knew the steps of all too well. You fastened the busk up quickly before bending down to grasp at the foot of the bed, adjusting your decollete into the supporting garment. Misato tightened the laces systematically, just as she had done for every year you’d been old enough to dress as a woman. 

Standing back up, you moved your body around, wincing and rolling your shoulders as you reacclimated to the squeeze of the steel boning. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, dropping your head in apology at the sight of her soft frown. “I know I’m bull-headed, and I know it only causes trouble for you.” 

With a gentle sigh, the maid slipped a muslin camisole over your head before moving to fasten a bustle around your waist. “I understand, love. But you’re a woman of society, and you’re to dress as such. Now, bear you in mind, I’d rather die than see you in trousers like the men, but I think there’s a middle ground to be found yet.”

You smiled at her, grateful for the affection, “I know, but I’m still glad to hear it.” 

“Who knows… Maybe you’ll finally attract a husband who’ll let you run as wild as you’d like.” The older woman teased you, pinching your cheek affectionately as she slipped several layers of skirt over your head. Her loving prodding pulled an imperceptible flush across your cheeks, and you distracted yourself with the buttons of your bodice. “Lord knows some of those peelers can’t be too horrible to look at.” 

“Love,” you scoffed, choosing to ignore the way your mind immediately wandered to a certain stoic, blonde detective, “is for little girls who still believe in fairy tales.”  

You continued on, selecting a hat from a drawer. “I work because I want to do something important… something beyond embroidery and gossiping at garden parties. There are people out there who need help, Misato.”

The maid laughed softly, pinning your hat at a perfect, jaunty angle. “I’ve known that since you stood at the height of my knee, but I can still hope to see you happy.” 

You bade Misato goodbye with a quick kiss on the cheek, finally venturing out from your family’s warm, comfortable house to wait by the road for your carriage. An icy breeze brushed past as soon as you stepped outside, ruffling through your skirts and causing you to shiver. As you waited patiently, the damp air slowly seeped under your multiple layers of clothing; the strangely oppressive chill only took a few moments to carve beneath your skin like an icy dagger. 

Normally, little birds would flitter throughout the small yards alongside the street, filling your morning commute with their cheerful racket, but there was only silence today. Your only companions were the ever-present fog and smoke that blanketed the city, but today, they seemed so much thicker than usual, making the overcast sky feel even more bleak. 

Thick tendrils of gloom trailed over the cobblestones, swallowing the flickering gas lights one by one. There were no people on your street this early, no signs of life to be seen anywhere. Another shiver shot down your spine, but this time, it had nothing to do with the cold. The world was grey and eerily silent as the fog finally reached you, blanketing your entire body with frigid mist. The downy hairs on the back of your neck began to stand on end; everything felt off… like an ill omen.  

A moment later, the clacking of hooves on the cobblestone echoed throughout the street, and a familiar carriage finally appeared in the gloom. You barely waited for it to come to a stop before you opened the door and climbed in, not caring to observe the proper etiquette. 

“Cold, miss? It’s a chilly mornin’ innit?” The driver chuckled, shouting loudly as he snapped the reins, urging the horses to return to their steady gait. “Don’t worry; we’ll get you back inside soon enough.” 

“Ah, yes… It is a bit chilly.” You smiled and brushed your actions off with a laugh, but the feeling of dread still weighed heavily on your heart. 

Even the horses seemed restless, rolling their eyes and tossing their well-groomed manes back and forth as they plodded eastward. You were grateful to finally see some sense of normalcy as you reached Victoria Street, where people of all ages milled around, setting up their businesses both on and off the street. Shops opened their doors, and street vendors set out their wares, squabbling loudly over placement and price. You smiled wryly as a young boy snatched a steaming pie from the corner of a table, eyes shining with delight as he shoved the greasy pastry into his mouth. He disappeared into the teeming crowd with the shopkeep still blissfully unaware of the theft.

The sight was as endearing as it was heart-wrenching; the cute little boy probably stole out of sheer necessity. If he hadn’t stolen the pie, there was a good chance he wouldn’t have eaten at all today, even in this area of the city. You suddenly felt guilty that you had the privilege of being able to turn down breakfast. 

“So much needs to change,” you murmured, drumming your gloved fingers against the lacquered side of the carriage. Most of the people from the upper crust simply wanted to hide the poor away; their attitude was just to keep them out of sight and out of mind.

Your thoughts continued as you looked off into the alleyways and then glanced eastward to where the worst parts of London were concealed. If your family had their way, you’d have never known those parts of the city existed; you’d have been kept on a pedestal in the opulent West End. To them, all you needed was decorative knowledge meant to accent your pretty face and attract a rich husband, but no one had counted on your tenacity. You had been too intelligent, too fierce of a little girl, always demanding answers from your tutors, rejecting their half-baked excuses about the world and how it worked. 

 Before long, you figured out that not all people grew up similarly. You fished stories out of maids and butlers, learning about how other people suffered in the cruel workhouses and filthy alleyways hidden in the background of the city you loved. But the most appalling thing by far was how little your parents and their wealthy friends seemed to care.  

When you turned ten, you convinced Misato to help you sneak out for the first time, mainly by threatening to go even if she refused to be your accomplice, and from that night on, you began exploring the real London. When your parents thought you were safely locked away in your room practicing embroidery, you were actually exploring the streets wearing ragged clothes “borrowed” from the nearest bin. It was dangerous and wholly irresponsible for a lady like yourself, and if anyone found out, your reputation and life would be ruined forever…. So, of course, you loved it.

“It’s no wonder I ended up here, in the last place a ‘lady’ should ever be.” You murmured, smiling as the carriage finally jolted to a stop outside the stately, brick-and-stone building at 4 Whitehall Place. The driver opened your door with practiced ease, and you entered Scotland Yard’s world of cops and criminals. 

“Odd, there’s so few people here…” You murmured, arching an eyebrow in curiosity as you walked in and reached your desk. 

Typically, the station was filled with men waiting on their orders for the day or waiting to go on patrol. The few men who were present milled about restlessly, and most wore the trademark blue peeler uniform. However, two men were notably different; they were dressed in everyday clothes and stood off to the side of the Chief Inspector’s office. If you didn’t know better, you could’ve guessed they were gentlemen who simply wandered in off the streets. 

“I haven’t seen those two before. They must be detectives.” You pieced together, noting the tension that hung heavily around them. 

The two men were certainly young to be detectives, but one seemed more experienced and slightly calmer than his counterpart. They each wore black frock coats and trousers, but from there, the appearance differed. The composed man had kind eyes and tawny, disheveled hair covered with a bowler hat, whereas his friend sported a red vest, fluffy hair, and no hat. He looked younger and full of nervous energy; for some reason, his hair seemed oddly…. pink?

You sighed, chalking it up to a trick of the light as you set up your desk for the day. In a valiant attempt to neutralize your own nervous energy, you began to clean your typewriter, stealing glances at the young detectives, trying to parse together what was going on from snippets of their conversation. 

“Do you really think- how long will it take?” 

“I don’t know, just wait and see.” 

Suddenly, two more men you did recognize walked into the room without fanfare. Chief Inspector Yaga led a tall, serious-looking blonde man over to the others, and your heart fell through your chest at the expression on his face. Not many of the detectives treated you well, but in all the time you’d worked there, Detective Inspector Nanami Kento had never failed to greet you with a small smile and a polite greeting every morning at the bare minimum. 

This morning, however, his expression could have cut through stone. The stoic man’s lips were set into a cold, hard line, and he didn’t even notice your presence. His dark eyes glittered in intense concentration, and the two young men snapped to attention as soon as he approached them.

Something has happened. Those aren’t the eyes of the gentleman I know… that’s the gaze of a detective entirely focused on his case.

Scotland Yard and its detectives were no strangers to tragedy and brutal events. They carried the weight of investigating the most unspeakable acts people could inflict on each other, but you had never seen DI Nanami look quite this grim. You watched the four men talk quietly for what seemed like ages before they finally walked over to your desk. Chief Inspector Yaga looked you up and down with a critical gaze as if to size you up. 

“How can I help you this morning, sir?” You met his eyes calmly, the feeling of dread rising, squeezing your heart once again. 

“You’ve been with us for almost two years now, correct?” His gruff voice rumbled through you like thunder promising an oncoming storm. 

“That’s correct, sir.” 

“And you’ve never had any-” He paused, gesturing around as if searching for the correct word, “trouble with the cases up until now?” 

Nanami’s chiseled jaw clenched as the Chief Inspector questioned you. He seemed to be looking just past your face, staring at a spot on the wall in a manner that seemed as though he was willing it to spontaneously catch fire. You didn’t try to hide the way your brow furrowed in concern at the question.

“Trouble, sir?” 

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Deep, dark bruises were blooming under the man’s eyes; it looked as if he had gotten little-to-no sleep for weeks. “I know you’ve certainly heard… more than a few disturbing things in your time here. The paperwork you tend to has details of crimes, and you’re around the men every day….  God knows they don’t know when to hold their tongues.” 

You nodded along, still confused and growing exponentially more concerned. His words were true; you’d certainly heard more than your share of gory details from the policemen as they returned from their patrols, whether it was just accidentally overheard or they told you directly as if it would impress you. 

“Well… It is never enjoyable, but I deal with it in the same way the men do, sir.” You pointed out deftly, unwilling to seem fragile. 

Nanami remained grimly silent, but a small smile played across the corner of his lips as Yaga watched you closely. After a moment of silence, the burly DCI sighed again. “Then there’s a job for you. I am about to ask more of you than I would like to, but you’ve excelled at your current position, and this situation calls for related skills.”

For the briefest moment, you could’ve sworn that you saw Nanami’s fist clench at his side. Still, the stoic man stayed silent as Yaga continued on, “You’ll be working under DI Nanami, and your main responsibility will be to organize and keep a running record of the evidence as it comes in. You’re to help them keep track of any papers they need to revisit during their investigation. Other duties will be assigned as needed.”

Yaga nodded stiffly and walked back to his office, shutting the door firmly as if to signal the finality of his decision. You looked up at Nanami with concern, as the man had barely moved since he arrived at your desk; he still looked silently furious. “Are you… do I need to do anything right now?” 

His mood seemed to shift to calm in an instant. “No, nothing right now. I’ll have a file to give you as soon as I return, but I do need to introduce the case to you so that you’re not blindsided when you… see it.” 

Nanami motioned for the two young detectives to step forward, “First, this is DC Itadori, and this is DS Ino. They will also be working under me for this case; if you have any issues and I’m unavailable, you can go to them.” 

The two young men tilted their heads in polite acknowledgment as they were introduced, each giving you a small smile, almost like the one Nanami usually reserved for you.

Ino spoke first, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Even under these circumstances.” 

Itadori nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! It isn’t often we get to work with a-”

“And I think it’s time for us to go secure transportation to the scene. You’ll have to excuse us.” Ino butted in quickly, placing a firm hand on Itadori’s shoulder and hauling the young man away, blatantly ignoring his noises of protest. 

You turned back to the Detective Inspector, whose expression was unreadable as he sighed, “He means well. Please forgive him.” 

A small, reassuring smile touched your lips as you gazed up at Nanami, “I’m not offended, Detective. I’m no shrinking violet and a bit of levity won’t go amiss every now and then.” 

Your small quip made the blonde man chuckle lowly despite the situation. “I’m well aware. But this case….” His expression shifted once again. “I don’t like involving you in it.” 

Hurt shot through you, stabbing through your heart with a dull ache. You had worked alongside him for two years, and he’d never seemed like the other men who constantly doubted your abilities for the supposed sin of being born a woman. You liked this man; you had trusted him.

“Do you really not think I can be of help?” You frowned as indignation seared through your veins.

You must’ve looked truly hurt because Nanami shook his head. “It has nothing to do with ability. You should know that I hold your abilities in high regard, but…” he said softly, “this case- it’s nothing like you’ve ever seen before, and you should never have to see things like this. No one should.” 

Your firey attitude froze instantly, turning to shame as you realized his true intent. “Forgive me, I’m used to….” 

A flush crept across your cheeks as you took a deep breath, smoothing the fabric of your skirt and regaining your professionalism.

Why is it so easy for me to make a fool out of myself in front of you? 

“ I understand,” he murmured, studying the typewriter in front of you with a strange intensity. “You may as well come into my office and have some tea.”

–

It took you no time at all to understand exactly why everyone seemed on edge and why the Detective Inspector was so affected by the case. You had read files of violence, murder, and rape before, but what Nanami had to sit down and tell you was beyond all of that. There was a monster, some sick freak brutalizing and murdering women throughout the streets of Whitechapel. He toyed with and desecrated their bodies, and all evidence suggested that he had acted multiple times and was going to continue unless he was caught or killed. This wasn’t some random act of criminal violence or murder of passion committed by a jilted lover…. this was something only the devil himself could be capable of.

The warmth of the teacup against your hands brought you some comfort, but you couldn’t bring yourself to drink any of the tea. Your stomach roiled violently; you were suddenly immensely glad you’d skipped breakfast as Nanami softly explained what had happened to the women and the events that led to Yaga deciding that you’d join his team. 

“They found another body this morning,” he spoke plainly, but his deep brown eyes roamed over your face, his expression full of gentle concern. “Worse than the last, even.”

You glanced at the thick file in front of you, your stomach lurching as your eyes landed on the sketch of the previous victim. If it was only growing worse… God, you couldn’t even imagine…. The room suddenly felt too hot, your corset too constricting as you leaned forward, fighting the bile that rose in your throat. 

Nanami was by your side instantly, his large hand warm and soothing on your back as he knelt beside you with surprising grace. “If you don’t want to do this…. I understand. I swear I do. Just say the word, and I’ll have you home.”

It took a brief moment, but you swallowed thickly and straightened up, your eyes glittering in determination as you gazed down at the kneeling man. “No. I can’t- I won’t- sit idly by, knowing I had a chance to help, even if it’s just in a small way.” 

An entire moment passed as the two of you stared into each other’s eyes. Nanami rested his hand on yours for a brief moment, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you could feel your brain short-circuit. You were much closer to a bachelor than society would deem appropriate, but the desire to uphold proper values wilted against your need for comfort. 

The moment was over quickly, and the Detective stood, brushing dirt off his tan pants. “It’s time for me to head out to the crime scene. I’d like you to use my office while I’m gone.” 

Nanami gave you an achingly soft smile, the exact smile you had craved before he tugged his coat on, slid his unique, round glasses into place, and left the room. 

–

Weeks turned into months, but the monster who called himself Jack the Ripper still hunted the women of Whitechapel. It didn’t take long for the press to run with the story, drawing more attention to Jack than his victims. An endless flow of letters and tips began to pour in every day, and the monster had even penned a few himself, mocking the police for not being able to catch him yet. 

You spent every day working beside Nanami, who insisted you move into his office, claiming you could work more comfortably there. The attraction you felt towards the stoic detective grew as you spent more time with him, sharing the intimate workspace. He was always so busy and stressed beyond measure, but he was unfailingly kind and considerate of you. In return, you went above and beyond your assigned duties to care for him. You ensured that Nanami ate as regularly as possible, brewed him tea when he was having a particularly hard day, and provided him companionship. 

You had always known that Nanami was intensely intelligent and focused, but he truly gave all of himself to this case. Unfortunately, the Ripper seemed to be a shade able to pass through walls for all the helpful clues he left behind. You watched, feeling utterly helpless, as the pile of bodies grew and the dark circles under Nanami’s eyes deepened. Despite putting on a brave face, he seemed frustrated and permanently exhausted; if you had to guess, he even slept at his desk some nights. 

As the case progressed and even more women were killed, Nanami made it a point to make sure you were safe, even though you lived on the opposite end of London from where the murders occurred. You reassured him that you’d be fine, but he still gifted you a small firearm, a Derringer, that you kept tucked in your handbag every single day as both a good luck charm and a deterrent. The detective also insisted on escorting you home at night, and on the rare nights he was unavailable, he sent Ino or Itadori in his stead. 

However, most nights, you only waited inside for an hour or two before sneaking back to the streets. You were convinced the people who frequented the bustling pubs and taverns of Whitechapel had to have more information. Many people weren’t keen on sharing any information with the police, but you knew they’d talk amongst themselves and certainly to a pretty girl at the bar. You knew it wasn’t smart, but you were determined to help in every way possible; too many women were living in fear. However, a small part of you did know that you were also desperately trying to ease Nanami’s burden. 

Even though you were determined, you still felt incredibly guilty about the situation. It would undoubtedly drive Nanami mad with worry if he knew what you were up to, but you promised yourself that it was safe enough, that you’d always sneak back home before nightfall. You had even planned only to visit pubs on Whitechapel Road itself, knowing that proximity to the main road made your outings safer. Weeks passed as your covert outings continued without a hitch, but one night, everything changed. You had been far too distracted by the bartender you were conversing with, and before you realized it, the sun had fully set. You might’ve been right on the main road, but you were alone in Whitechapel after dark, where the monster was certainly lurking in the shadows.

Every bump in the night made your heart seize in fear as you started down the street, desperately heading back toward safety. You managed to make a decent headway, but the sound of a familiar voice stopped you dead in your tracks. Nervously, you glanced around to find DC Itadori at the building right in front of you, blissfully unaware of your presence as the young man chatted with a passerby.

You knew that the proper thing to do would be to approach him for help, to admit that you had made a mistake, but you couldn’t ignore the small voice in the back of your mind that whispered, “You know he’d tell Nanami, right?”  

Telling DC Itadori would be bad enough, but the thought of his mentor being disappointed in you or even hurt by your actions made your heart lurch. 

“It’ll be just a quick detour,” you promised yourself as you turned and headed down the closest alleyway.

Your journey was fine for the first few minutes, but it didn’t take long for you to garner unwanted attention. Your dress lacked the finery you usually wore, but it was still the dress of a respectable woman, and this dark alley was no place for any woman. Drunken men leered at you from every shadow, trying to coax you closer. You ducked and weaved your way out of their clumsy attempts to grab you, but you were forced to run down alley after alley to avoid them. The familiar weight of the Derringer that you’d tucked into your garter was the only comfort you had as you fled deeper and deeper into the heart of Whitechapel. An icy chill crept down your spine as you grew painfully aware that you’d gotten lost in the maze of alleyways. 

Thick, oppressive fog curled throughout the already cramped alley as you hurriedly turned the next corner, only to hit a dead end. Your blood ran cold, and tears of exhaustion and fear ran down your face as you glanced around, desperately trying to figure out where you were, but it was useless. The fog was too dense, and you were too lost. Two sets of footsteps were still following you. You could hear them approaching faster and faster,  and you shrank back into the corner in fear, reaching under your skirts for the cool metal of the pistol as a last resort-

Suddenly, you heard the sounds of a brief scuffle around the corner, followed by the sickening crunch of a nose shattering. A man yelled out in pain; you could hear him sprinting back down the alley as another voice rang out into the night, “Miss, are you alright?” 

You could’ve wept at the achingly familiar, husky tone as your Detective Inspector appeared out of the gloom, lantern in hand. 

“I seem to have made a mistake,” You managed weakly.

Nanami froze instantly at the sound of your voice. He raised the lantern to illuminate your tear-stained face, and a look of sheer horror broke over his handsome features. You crumpled against the wall, and the Detective Inspector rushed forward to support your body, his strong arms cradling you with breathtaking gentleness. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked quickly as his gaze scanned you over systematically, desperately searching your body for any sign of injury. 

“No, just cold, afraid….. and more than a little ashamed. Thank you for saving me.” You admitted meekly, fighting the urge to lean into his warmth. 

Nanami groaned audibly in relief, tipping his head back as if thanking god. His arms tightened around you slowly as he embraced you, holding you against his broad chest while you shook with latent fear. You flushed furiously as you reciprocated his embrace, drawing enough comfort from his presence for your heartbeat to calm. 

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, voice low and soothing. “let’s get you somewhere safe, and then you can tell me why you’re out here.” 

“I can’t go home. It’s too late; I won’t be able to get back in until morning when my maid returns. Perhaps I should rent a room here for the night? No one will know me this far out. I do have some money.” You rambled, trying to keep from crying even more.  

Nanami sighed, stepping back slightly to look into your eyes. “I’m not leaving you out here alone. It won’t be ‘proper,’ but I’d like to take you somewhere where I know you’ll be safe.” 

You felt a pulse of clarity flow through you, and you placed a hand on his muscular forearm, gently squeezing it in reassurance. “I trust you.” 

The detective’s warm, brown gaze softened as he saw the honesty written across your face.

“One more question, then. Do you think you’re up to walking? I could carry you, but that may draw more unwanted attention.” 

You shifted on your feet, testing them out. “I think I’ll be alright.” 

Nanami smiled down at you before deftly unfastening his tan, woolen greatcoat. He draped it over your shoulders with heartbreaking gentleness, ignoring your mild noises of protest as he secured it around you. 

“It’s cold tonight,” was all he said as he offered you his arm.

You held onto him tightly, instantly comforted by his solid frame and the quiet strength Nanami carried himself with, even in a tense situation like this. You had never been more terrified only moments ago, but now you felt safe and protected, almost warm despite the cold air around you. 

“Thank you…. It is quite comforting.” You murmured.

Nanami smiled down at you briefly before guiding you through the maze of alleyways, letting you dictate the pace. Funnily enough, the fog seemed to dissipate as the two of you walked down the streets of London together. You could see the stars twinkling above you, and if you didn’t know better, the two of you could’ve been a couple out on a nighttime stroll together. 

Time passed quickly as you walked together in comfortable silence, and soon, you arrived at a comfortable-looking townhouse near Bedford Square. Nanami unlocked the door without any preamble, ushering you inside out of the cold. He led you up the stairs into a tastefully furnished drawing room with a beautiful bay window that overlooked a moonlit garden.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” he encouraged, leading you towards a plush settee. Nanami busied himself with lighting the ornate fireplace as you curled up against the arm of the furnishing, still wrapped up in his coat. You snuggled against the soft wool, surreptitiously enjoying how it smelled of his fresh, woody cologne undercut with the deeper scent you could only describe as his. 

As soon as Nanami finished tending to the fire, he began to pace around the room in a manner you knew meant that he was thinking deeply about something. 

“What is it?” You asked softly, almost afraid of the answer. 

He took a deep breath and stopped pacing, turning to look at you. Nanami’s expression held no anger as the firelight flickered across his face, but a profound sadness filled his beautiful brown eyes as he spoke, “I don’t think you understand what it would’ve done to me if you were the next body found.” 

You dropped your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as Nanami continued his pacing, “When I realized it was you in the alley, I- I thought the absolute worst had happened.” 

He ran his hands through his hair, pacing even more frantic as he tousled the normally neat blonde strands. “You must know by now…. You have to know…”

Nanami turned to you once again, dropping his arms to his side in defeat. “I love you.” He rasped, voice raw with emotion. “I’ve known for months. I didn’t think I could court you properly until I caught this bastard, so I didn’t say anything. You don’t deserve to be associated with me if I fail, but after tonight, I just can’t take it anymore. I understand if you say no, if you need a better man, but-” 

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. In the blink of an eye, you flung yourself across the room and into his arms. Nanami caught you in surprise, scarcely able to believe he wasn’t dreaming as you clutched desperately at his sides. Uncontrollable tears fell from the corners of your eyes as you gazed at him in unabashed adoration.

“I love you too,” you confessed, “ I don’t think a better man exists.” 

That was all the encouragement he needed. Nanami smiled lovingly, softly as he leaned down to press a slow, feather-light kiss against your forehead. You sighed in bliss, and the detective breathed deeply as if he hadn’t had fresh air in months. Months of stress and fear melted away from both your bodies, the negative emotions paling in comparison to the warmth of your love. Nanami ghosted more kisses across your cheeks and nose, taking his time to savor every inch of your beautiful skin before finally pressing his lips against yours. 

The kiss was soft and sweet. Your eyelashes fluttered shut, and you acted purely on instinct, leaning further into his embrace. One of Nanami’s strong, steady hands moved to cup your waist, holding you like precious china as your lips parted from the chaste kiss. As you shared another intimate breath, his other hand slid under your chin, tilting you forward to capture your lips again. 

“Marry me.” He mouthed against you, voice rough with emotion. “Let me protect you, love you, worship you. I want to hold you in my arms, to keep you by my side until I die.” 

“Yes,” you nearly pleaded, clawing at the material of his blue vest in an attempt to somehow pull him closer. “Kento, please…. I’m yours.”

He groaned desperately at the intimacy of his first name on your lips as his hand moved from your waist to wrap around your back possessively. Nanami trailed his other hand to cup your jaw as he kissed you even more passionately, almost devouring you whole. You had kissed before, but it was only mild, adolescent flirtations with boys you didn’t bother to remember; it was nothing like this. This kiss was searing, threatening to burn you from the inside out if you stopped for even a second. Your chest lay flush against Nanami’s, your body moving against his in a way that made his trousers grow uncomfortably tight. 

Nanami realized instantly and broke the embrace, stepping back to hide the way his cock strained against the fabric. The desirous look in your eyes and your attempt to follow him nearly shattered his resolve completely, but he touched your shoulder gently. 

“It will get increasingly hard for me to remain the gentleman you deserve if we continue.” He warned breathily, a light dusting of pink gracing his cheekbones. “If you need, I can go stand outside until morning.” 

A whimper left your kiss-swollen lips. Your body ached in a way you’d never felt, craving the sweet burn of his touch in places you’d rarely explored yourself. The world felt hazy and syrupy as you tried to regain your mind, but it was a futile task. Your breasts felt heavy, your nipples sensitive as they rubbed against the fabric of your chemise. 

“That’s not what I need,” you pleaded, and Nanami shuddered. 

“Can you tell me what you do need?” He murmured, taking a tiny step towards you. 

“Kento, I-I’ve never done this before,” you stammer, blushing furiously and shrinking back in embarrassment. 

Immediately, Nanami is at your side, holding you tightly once again. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of, darling. I wouldn’t love you less either way. All it means is that we’re on equal footing here.” 

He pulled you into another hug, intent on soothing you further as your mind spun. 

“You’ve never….?” You questioned softly. 

“No,” Nanami murmured, “I haven’t been with anyone.” 

“That does make me feel better,” you admitted, biting the swell of your lower lip. “What I’m feeling right now is new…. strange, even. I want you to touch me so badly that it hurts.”

Nanami groaned again, pulling you against his broad chest; he could easily feel your heart racing, and he wasn’t faring much better. 

“Do you want me to touch you now, or do you want me to wait?” He asked, voice deadly calm. 

“I think I’ll die if you wait,” you pleaded, pawing against his vest again. 

He chuckled roughly, grasping your wrist and pulling it to his lips. Your breath hitched as he kissed the tender skin of your pulse point, savoring the way your pulse raced under his touch. Without further preamble, Nanami reached down for your skirts, slowly drawing the fabric up past the soft leather of your garters. He reached down, tracing up your thigh with his fingers until they caught the cool metal of the Derringer, which you had completely forgotten about. 

Nanami tugged it free as he kissed you once again. He smiled into the embrace, pulling you with him as he stepped over to set the small gun on a nearby table. You glanced at him in astonishment, unsure how he had known. As soon as the firearm was safely put away, he scooped you up into his arms with another soft laugh, “Darling, what kind of detective would I be if I didn’t know?” 

You smiled up at him, “I suppose you do have a point, darling.” 

He sighed in bliss as you turned the affectionate nickname against him. You traced your hands up Nanami’s broad chest greedily, slipping them over his shoulders for support as you leaned in for yet another desperate kiss, unable to sate your desire for his lips. He somehow managed to walk and return the kiss at the same time, only stumbling slightly as he brought you into another room. 

You giggled against him, and he smiled, devouring the sweet sounds and eager to hear more. Nanami leaned down, setting you gently on his large bed. He pulled back to gaze at you in utter adoration, loosening his golden cravat and undoing the buttons of his blue brocade vest. He discarded them both, leaning forward to cage you between his arms as you drank in the sight unashamedly. 

“You know it isn’t proper for me to see you in just your shirtsleeves yet,” you teased, snaking your hands up his arms and growing bold enough to nip at his bottom lip. 

“I don’t think anything that we are about to do is too ‘proper,’” Nanami smiled affectionately as he circled his hands around your corseted waist, pulling you forward to sit at the edge of the bed. He unfastened your boots, caressing your stocking-covered feet gently as he set your shoes to the side. Afterward, his hands returned to your waist, meeting in the middle to trace over the small buttons of your green bodice. 

“May I?” He implored, voice low and breathy with anticipation. 

You nodded, biting your lip nervously. “Please.”

Nanami’s deft fingers began to undo button after button, exposing the other layers of clothing underneath as he went. You’d chosen to forego wearing a camisole, as none of your outerwear was fine enough to need protecting, so he was immediately met with the sight of your corset and the lip of your chemise beneath. The silken chemise you favored was thin enough to be nearly transparent, and Nanami’s breath hitched at the sight of your pebbled nipples peeking over the top of your corset. 

He knelt slightly, enraptured by the sight of your breasts rising and falling with every breath you took. Nanami stared at you ravenously as his breathing grew heavier. You blushed prettily, shrugging the bodice off as the once-stoic detective’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. His hands dug into the fabric of his duvet as he fought the urge to caress and kiss every part of your body. 

“I want to explore every part of you with my hands and tongue,” he confessed with a groan. “I can’t hold myself back much further, but promise that you’ll stop me immediately if I make you uncomfortable.” 

You noticed the pupils of his brown eyes were blown wide and dark with lust as he looked at you, fully enraptured but waiting for your response. His expression forced an involuntary whimper to tumble from your lips, and the heat in your core spiked once again. 

“I promise, but please… I didn’t think I could feel something like this.” You begged sweetly, guiding his large, warm hand to rest on the swell of your breasts.

He caressed the area gently, watching your face as his clever fingers explored your soft curves. You sighed in delight as he squeezed and traced the barely-covered skin, prompting him to investigate further. His fingertips grazed your nipple, and your back arched instantly, mouth parting in a perfect “O” at the waves of pleasure that shot through you. Nanami’s gaze grew half-lidded and hazy; he squeezed the small bud in response, and you outright moaned as your core clenched in need. 

“Feels good?” He purred, utterly shameless in wanting to learn your pleasure. 

You nodded vigorously, unable to speak, as you pulled his other hand to your back. He knelt on the floor, pulling you to stand over him as he reached around to unfasten your skirts and small bustle. They dropped to the floor, and he leaned forward to pepper kisses across your stomach and the tops of your thighs. You couldn’t feel his lips directly for the corset and chemise still in the way, but you could feel the warmth of his body close to yours. The intimacy of him kneeling before you, kissing your body so hungrily, made you throb with need once more. Acting on pure instinct once again, you began to rub your thighs together, desperate to relieve the ache.

He reached for the strings of your corset, successfully untying the knot. Nanami felt around for a moment before leaning back to look the silk and leather garment up and down. The detective chuckled lowly, “Would you mind helping me, darling? This is the first I’ve dealt with a corset, and I’m afraid it’s not as straightforward as the other layers.” 

You gazed down at him in adoration, guiding his arms to grasp different parts of the lacing. 

“Pull here…. and here.” You murmured, and the corset loosened under your combined ministrations, finally becoming loose enough for you to unfasten the busk. 

Nanami watched breathlessly as it fell. He grasped the hem of your chemise, the final major barrier separating him from your soft skin, and rose from his kneeling position to pull it over your head. Finally, you stood before him fully topless, and he shuddered in desire as he removed your drawers. 

He picked you up again, setting you back on the bed to work on the layers of his clothing. You whined in protest, wanting to undress him as he had explored you, but he simply shushed you, only speeding up his movements as he spoke through gritted teeth, “Darling, I promise you that we will have ample time for you to undress me later…. but right now, I need you, or I’m going to fully lose my mind.” 

Nanami was barely able to choke out the words as he threw his shirt aside, granting you a beautiful view of his muscular chest and the smattering of honey-blonde hair that covered it. His arms were just as well-built, and you bit your lip once again, squirming on top of his sheets as you watched him. Nanami hooked his fingers into the waistband of his trousers, drawing your attention to a patch of coarser blonde hair that trailed down his lower stomach, hinting at what you’d see next. 

You felt hot, fully and shamelessly filled with lust as you stared at the outline of his thick cock tenting the fabric. Nanami groaned as he saw your reaction, palming his erection as he started towards you, only clad in his trousers. 

“Lay back for me, darling,” he cooed, guiding you onto the mattress. It dipped beneath his weight as he joined you, running his fingers over your leather garters. He pulled them down with his teeth, pressing kisses to the bare skin that forced a litany of moans and pleas from your lips as he rid you of your stockings. Dimly, you realized the space between your thighs was sticky with your own arousal. Nanami realized a split second after you, trailing his fingers up to your core after disposing of the garters and stockings. 

“You’re beautiful, gorgeous…. Perfect.” His deep voice rumbled against your ear as he traced his finger through your folds. You shivered and moaned in response, your legs falling open even further, begging for him to explore more. He slid up on the bed next to you, leaning down to kiss your bare, sensitive breasts as he toyed with your soaked cunt.

Nanami carried on like that for a few minutes, noting that you grew the most desperate as he circled the small pearl of flesh at the top of your sex. He caressed it, noting with no small amount of satisfaction that his ministrations made you beg for more and whimper his name. Tension coiled in your stomach as he gently circled the puffy bud and kissed you passionately, relishing the taste of his name on your lips. It didn’t take long for that tension to snap in your stomach like an elastic band, and your back arched off the bed as you came hard. 

He growled praises into your ear, teasing his fingers into you as your cunt spasmed around nothing. “My future wife… a goddess.” 

Your eyelashes fluttered shut in a moment of discomfort that soon gave way to the blissful feeling of being filled. There was no pain as the other women had complained of; your world was a haze of syrupy bliss as your lover prepared you with his fingers, gently stretching your velvet walls. 

Nanami rutted his hips against the bed, delaying his own pleasure until you were ready for him to truly fill you. The two of you moaned and sighed, almost in sync. 

“You’re so soft and wet,” he cursed under his breath. “I won’t last much longer… Do you think you’re ready?” 

You leaned up to kiss him passionately, mouthing your desperate assent against his lips. Nanami unbuttoned his trousers, unclothing his lower half in record time as you lay back against the sheets, eyes fully glazed over with lust. He spread your legs, slotting his hips between them, and you felt the swollen tip of his cock kiss your needy sex as he positioned himself properly. The two of you were panting, moaning together like animals in heat as he pushed in slowly, desperately trying not to hurt you. You cried out at the stretch, digging your nails into his back, the pain pulling another guttural moan from your lover. Any discomfort quickly turned to blinding pleasure as he sank into you fully.

Nanami paused arduously, his cock twitching, desperately begging for him to move. 

“Tell me… when.” He forced the words out through gritted teeth, his expression almost a grimace as he fought the urge to thrust into you. 

The warmth and pressure of his body, the feeling of being stuffed full, the feeling of his cock twitching inside you… It was all too much. Your fingers scrabbled at his back, desperate for purchase, as you whined, high-pitched and needy in response. “Now, please- oh, God. Need you now.”

Nanami groaned as he began to move his hips slowly, dragging his thick cock along your velvet walls. He began to move slightly faster as you writhed beneath him, your mind too sex-addled to form a coherent thought or sentence as his swollen balls slapped against you. 

Your future husband fucked you slowly but thoroughly, filling the room with the salacious sounds of your lovemaking. A familiar tension began to build in your core, and Nanami groaned as your walls squeezed his cock. Unlike earlier, there was almost no warning as you shot straight over the edge of a mind-shattering orgasm, and you cried out desperately.

Nanami growled and cursed against your neck as your cunt milked his cock, desperately begging to be filled. 

“So close. Need… need to pull out.” He rasped, almost whining as he left the plush warmth of your sex. You watched him in a lust-filled daze, melting against his sheets as Nanami leaned back, furiously stroking his cock. He grunted and moaned shamelessly, hips still shallowly thrusting against his hand as he desperately sought bliss. His head tipped back as he panted; you could see a beautiful, rosy flush color his chest and neck, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss every inch of it. 

Nanami’s thrusts started to falter from their original pace, and you watched, wholly enraptured, as his brows furrowed and his perfect mouth fell open. He came a moment later with a hoarse cry; thick ropes of his seed coated his hands and stomach in spurts. He stroked his cock a few more times, fully milking out his orgasm before collapsing on the bed by your side. You both lay there in silence for a few blissful moments, basking in the warmth and security of each other’s arms.

“I love you,” you whispered, breaking the silence with a smile. 

“I love you too, my darling future wife,” Nanami murmured back, entwining his hand with yours.

Tagging some friends: @pseudowho @saradika @thefact0rygirl @babygirl-leon-kennedy @hereforthesunrise @ashotofspotchka @ironandglass @amyroswell @cassandrablacker @lady-valtieri @justanothersadperson93 @orangecremepuff @belle-smith07 @outspokenbrat @enchantedsylveon @khaleesihavilliard @spam-love @silverliningsandstorms @msniks @panteramarron @eldritchbeauty @unoriginalidea @cindyneko-strider @markleeisdabestdrug @gabbyburgers @its-chickenwing-450 @luneariaa @akiiireix @tojispookiebear @dangoank0 @ifuckinghateschool @barryatsumu @voids-universe @mahgyu @themoonmonologues @byul9158 @starlitnotes @makingtimemine

[kallie-den]

A Commanding Weakness Ch. 7

Kuznetzov, the Inyx's second-in-command, suspects something is wrong with the ship's crew. She brings her suspicions to Alara, the ship's counselor, but Alara has her own source of curiosity regarding possible mind control...

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon!   For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get   immediate, early access to everything I write - along with exclusive stories and the ability to vote on what I write next. Your support helps  me keep writing and is greatly appreciated

---

“So, just to be absolutely clear,” said Counselor Alara Hisarlik, “you believe that the crew of this ship is gradually succumbing to some form of mind control?”

Lieutenant Semya Kuznetzov, Captain Vasser’s second-in-command, shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Hearing it out loud was even worse than she’d anticipated, even though Alara, the Inyx’s counselor, was somehow able to keep her voice free from scorn or incredulity. The chair wasn’t helping. The counselor’s office had big comfy, cushioned, reclining chairs that couldn’t be found elsewhere on the ship. They were meant to be relaxing; for Kuznetzov, they were proving just the opposite.

“Not… I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Lieutenant Kuznetzov replied slowly. She was choosing her words carefully. She knew she sounded crazy, but hopefully not completely crazy. “I know how it sounds. And I’m not exactly convinced of it. But I am worried about it. It’s what my gut is telling me, I guess. I just can’t shake the feeling.”

“I see.” Alara leaned in, concerned. “And this is because of the behavior of the crew?”

“Yes,” Lieutenant Kuznetzov explained. “I’ve been noticing something wrong with people, all across the ship. I keep catching crew members spacing out at strange moments, like they’re listening to a voice I can’t hear. Often groups of people at once. But afterward, they’ll insist nothing happened. Or I’ll notice them moving in perfect harmony. Unnatural harmony.” She sighed. “There’s this ancient movie: Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Maybe you’ve heard of it. Pod people? It’s like that.”

Alara nodded. “That’s very troubling. I can understand why this would be preying on your mind.”

It was easy to see why Alara Hisarlik was a ship’s counselor. She was, quite simply, perfect for the role. In her early fifties - Kuznetzov had read every crew member’s personnel file - she was older than most of the people on the ship, and had an effortlessly matronly demeanor that made her shockingly easy to talk to. Her office was comfortable, warm, and friendly, and since she didn’t need to wear a uniform she was free to dress herself in a comfortable jumpsuit that made her seem all the more disarming.

The jumpsuit was plenty flattering, too, and Kuznetzov observed that Alara was taking full advantage of the fact that she didn’t need to pass Alliance fitness tests either. Her physique was just as motherly as her demeanor, and it suited her well. Kuznetzov felt a little guilty for noticing that, but it couldn’t be helped. She was a lesbian, after all.

“It has been,” Lieutenant Kuznetzov confessed. “That’s why I’m here. I needed to talk to someone.”

“Why not Captain Vasser?” Alara asked. “If you suspect something’s wrong on the ship, surely she needs to know.”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov hesitated before answering. “I considered it,” she replied eventually. “But I really can’t tell if I’m just being paranoid. If I am, then you’re the person I need to talk to. Not the captain. And if I’m not paranoid, then…”

“Then it’s entirely possible she’s been affected too,” Alara finished. “Is that right?”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov nodded, grateful she didn’t have to be the one to say it. “I’ve noticed she’s seemed a little… off, lately.”

“I see.” Alara took that in stride and smiled kindly. “But you’re happy talking to me. I take it I seem like my usual self?”

“Yes,” Lieutenant Kuznetzov said, before adding: “as far as I’d know, anyway.”

This was the first time Kuznetzov had taken it upon herself to visit the ship’s counselor. She’d never seen the need. Doctor Hiraga handled routine psych evals; the counselor was for the benefit of crew members who just needed to talk, or who preferred to speak with someone who was a couple of steps outside the usual chain of command. Kuznetzov, though, preferred to deal with her own problems herself. She was the stoic type, or so she liked to think. It suited her butch looks and dress sense. But her current troubles necessitated a reality check, and she’d judged that Alara Hisarlik was the best person to speak with.

“Glad to hear it,” Alara replied, a touch playfully, before turning more serious. “Lieutenant, this is clearly a new feeling for you. Have you been under any particular stress lately?”

Kuznetzov shook her head. “No more than usual.”

“That’s good! Now, I know you haven’t been assigned to the Inyx for long. You were transferred just recently. Have you been fitting in well?”

“I believe so. Captain Vasser seems happy with my performance.”

“What about socially? Have you gotten to know the other officers?”

Kuznetzov gave a slight smile. “I’m not exactly a social butterfly. It doesn’t bother me.”

“I see.” Alara sounded a little less pleased with that answer, but didn’t press the issue. “And there’s nothing else that’s been on your mind? Nothing troubling?”

“No, not at all.”

“Hm.” Alara cocked her head to one side. “Well, Lieutenant, I don’t think you’re crazy. That doesn’t mean you’re right about this mind control thing either, of course, but it does behoove me to investigate concerns about the mental states of other crew members aboard this ship. There may be a perfectly innocent explanation. To that end, I think the best course of action is that we keep this between ourselves for now, and I discreetly form my own opinion. Could you give me the names of some of the people you’ve been suspicious of?”

Kuznetzov nodded. “I’ll make a list and send it over.”

“Very good.” Alara smiled again. “I’ll let you know what I think very soon.”

“Perfect.” Kuznetzov felt the tension in her shoulders easing, and she sighed with relief. “And… thank you, counselor. Not knowing whether this is real or not has really been weighing on me. I’m very grateful that you’ve taken me seriously. I’m not sure whether or not I expect you to form the same impression I have, but just knowing that you’re looking into it puts my mind at ease.”

“You’re very welcome.” Alara’s smile grew even warmer. “That’s exactly what I’m here for, Lieutenant.”

***

Alara tapped her soon impatiently against the rim of her teacup as she waited for her next appointment to arrive. Crewman Hannah Weiss was late, of course. Everyone on this ship was always late. They always had excuses, of course. Important duties and important orders, on their important mission to catch Wasp. Everything on the Inyx was so damn important. Everything except for Alara and her counseling sessions.

The one thing nobody on the crew seemed to make any time for was taking care of their own mental health - which meant that, as the ship’s counselor, Alara’s life was devoted entirely to chasing after other people’s problems. After all these years on the job, they were just so infuriatingly cliché. Burnout. Anxiety. Insecurity. She’d heard it all before.

That didn’t mean Alara didn't care, of course. She wanted to help just as much as she had when she’d first started out in this line of work, three decades before. What had made her bored and cynical over the years was learning that she couldn’t help, because no one ever listened. Alara could offer advice, training, medical, therapy - and it didn’t matter because, to most people, she was nothing more than a convenient way to unburden themselves. They didn’t respect her or her expertise, and so she was condemned to the Sisyphean experience of listening to crewman after crewman coming to bleat to her about some inane problem, giving them the perfect advice, and seeing them out the door knowing perfectly well that they weren’t going to heed it.

If only there was some way to make them listen.

As a result, even as Alara had aged into the perfect, matronly counselor everyone wanted, she’d become thoroughly disillusioned and tired of her work. The years had ground her down, leaving her cynical and hopeless. She’d vowed this would be her final tour of duty aboard an Alliance ship, but fate had conspired to drag them out to the far rim for months longer than expected, chasing shadows, leaving Alara more frustrated by the day. The crewmen who darkened her door were becoming nothing more than an indistinct succession of blurred faces, each more forgettable and annoying than the last.

At least, until Lieutenant Kuznetzov.

A conspiracy to take over the ship by secretly mind-controlling members of the crew? In all her years as a counselor, Alara hadn’t heard that one before. It sounded like a paranoid delusion, but Kuznetsov’s psychological profile was rock solid. She displayed no signs of any associated psychological tendencies or conditions that would predispose her to such an elaborate delusion. Which meant that Alara finally had something that could hold her attention.

If nothing else, a spontaneous delusion like this could make for a half-decent case study to write up.

But first, Alara figured that she should investigate what Kuznetzov had been suspecting, and so she’d arranged an innocuous appointment with one of the people the XO had mentioned: Crewman Hannah Weiss. Mind control was unlikely, but not strictly impossible, and talking to her could shed light on reasons she might have been behaving differently or suspiciously.

And if it was mind control? Alara certainly couldn’t miss out on a chance to study it up close and personal. She had a deep, abiding interest in the subject. Strictly professional, of course.

The door to Alara’s office chimed to indicate that her appointment had finally arrived. The counselor set down her teacup, rose to her feet, and went to greet her guest.

“Crewman Weiss,” Alara said, plastering her well-worn welcoming smile on her face as the door opened. “Thank you for coming. Please, come in.”

“Alara.”

Hannah Weiss offered a friendly nod as she entered the room. She was young - less than half Alara’s age, in fact - and much slighter and mousier than most expected of a member of the Alliance military. The Inyx was her first posting, and she’d been struggling to adjust to the rigor and claustrophobia of starship life. Though she’d adjusted over time, following up on her earlier troubles was a reasonable pretext for an appointment.

“Have a seat,” Alara said as she beckoned Weiss in.

She was gesturing to one of the two big, comfy chairs that dominated her office’s central space. Alara had made her office as comfortable and welcoming as the Inyx’s small, spartan bulkheads allowed. In the center of the space, between the chairs, was a simple table, and the room was lit by a special bank of holographic lights that could provide gentle, soothing illumination when needed.

The two of them sat down, and Alara immediately leaned forward so that she could pour Weiss a cup of tea from the still-steaming teapot on the table. Weiss accepted it gratefully, and then Alara sat back with her own teacup and teaspoon in hand.

“So, um,” Weiss began nervously. “What’s this about?”

“Nothing serious,” Alara immediately assured her. “I just wanted to check up on you, now that you’ve been with us for a few months. Have you been having any more issues?”

“No!” Weiss answered in a rush. “Um… h-has somebody said something to you?”

“Not at all,” Alara replies gently. Clearly, Weiss was as anxious and twitchy as ever. “This is completely routine. Now - how have you been doing lately?”

Weiss took a cautious sip of her tea; it proved to be too hot for her. “I’ve been OK,” she answered. “Good. At least, I think. I’ve been having an easier time performing my duties.”

“I’m glad.” Alara smiled at her as she lifted her own teacup. “What about the anxiety you’ve spoken to me about before?”

“It’s better,” Weiss said quickly. She seemed embarrassed to have it brought up to her face. “I mean… sometimes, I still… but it’s easier, now. It feels like I can just kind of… zone out a bit. Get in the zone. Do whatever I need to do, without thinking too much.”

“I see.”

That caught Alara’s interest. It sounded more like dissociation than adjustment. According to her superiors, though, her performance was entirely adequate. That level of automatism was outside of Weiss’s psychological profile. It could indicate that her mental state was being tampered with.

This was exactly what Alara had secretly been longing to hear. She’d agreed with herself that if Weiss seemed completely normal, it would be unethical to pry too deeply into her state of mind. But if there was any suggestion that what Kuznetzov had talked about was true, Alara had an obligation to investigate, fully and discretely.

And it was an obligation she’d relish. What student of psychology wouldn’t? Mind control had always been something of a fascination of hers, ever since her days in college. In academic psychology circles it was considered an unusual, quaint, even useless subject, far more hypothetical than practical, but now more than ever, Alara was grateful she’d taken those classes. Thanks to them, she knew exactly what she needed to do with Weiss.

She needed to hypnotize her.

It made perfect sense. How easily she went into a trance could help Alara to gauge if she’d been conditioned to be susceptible to mind-alteration, and if Alara was able to speak to her subconscious mind, she might be able to bypass whatever form of mind control was currently in effect. An unorthodox approach, perhaps, and not one most ship’s counselors would have been familiar with, but Alara always made sure she was brushed up on her technique.

“Hannah,” she said, once she’d made up her mind. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to hypnotize you.”

Weiss blinked. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a completely standard therapeutic technique.” Alara figured a little massaging of the truth wouldn’t do any harm. “A way to relax. A kind of meditation, you could call it. I think it could really help you.”

“Right.” Weiss still seemed a touch incredulous. “But… hypnosis? Isn’t that just some old thing from twentieth-century media?”

Alara just kept smiling. “Not quite. I assure you, it’s very real. Are you ready to get started?”

“I-I guess.” Weiss glanced down nervously. Alara had known that she’d crumble if Alara pushed just a little. “What do I need to do?”

“Nothing much,” Alara soothed. “Just sit right there and get as comfortable as you can.”

Weiss started to shift in her seat, settling in, and as she did Alara used the console built into the arm of her chair to dim the lights. Weiss was still visibly a little on edge, but Alara was sure she’d relax as soon as the counselor got to work on her. The young crewman wasn’t difficult to influence.

“Good,” Alara said approvingly once Weiss sat back. Even as she made her voice carefully low and rhythmic, she spoke like they were yet to begin and she was just making conversation. “The chairs are comfy, aren’t they? One of the perks of the job.”

“Yeah,” Weiss agreed. She seemed faintly grateful to be talking about something other than herself.

“Not many people on an Alliance starship get chairs like these.” Alara winked at Weiss. “Not even amongst the officers. You might as well enjoy them while you’re here! I know I do.”

“Yeah,” Weiss said again. “They are really nice. Now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve been this comfortable in months.”

“Exactly.” Alara nodded enthusiastically. “You know, sometimes, when I can get away with it, I just dim the lights - just like this, in fact - sit down, close my eyes, and let myself drift off a little. Let my mind wander. I have to admit, once or twice I’ve actually fallen asleep like that. I must be getting old.”

Weiss giggled. “That sounds nice.” From her voice, it was obvious that she was feeling more and more at ease.

“It’s easy for me, of course. All I have to do is lock the door, and anyone who knocks will think I’m in a private appointment.” Alara heard another, even more relaxed giggle from Weiss. “I know a crewman like you won’t get nearly as many chances to relax. Not with your superior officers breathing down your neck.”

“Yeah…” Weiss replied wearily.

“Well, there’s no pressure here,” Alara promised. “Why not give it a try yourself? Close your eyes.”

Weiss looked up uncertainly for a moment, but then obliged. “OK.”

“Very good,” Alara said as Weiss’s eyelids fell shut. She already knew Weiss could be susceptible to positive reinforcement. “You’re more than welcome to take a few moments for yourself, Hannah. Just sit back. Relax. Forget I’m even here.”

Alara could tell that, whether she meant to or not, Weiss was hearkening to her words. Her shoulders were slumping and her breathing slowing. She couldn’t help but relax.

“Perfect,” Alara encouraged. “You must be very tired. Running all over the ship all the time, being ordered around constantly by your superiors. It’s exhausting. Trust me, I’ve been there - once upon a time. I know how it feels. When you’re tired like that, nothing compares to getting to take the weight off your feet. You just can’t help but sink into it.”

“Yeah…” Weiss let out a weary sigh. “That’s really… um… but s-should we get started?”

Alara had to suppress a laugh. “We already have.”

At that Weiss stirred - but only a little. Alara was pleased to see that already, she was unwilling or unable to shake off her lethargy. She couldn’t even bring herself to open her eyes. The poor girl really was exhausted.

Unless she wasn’t. Unless there was another reason she was so susceptible.

“What do you mean?” Weiss asked. She sounded distant.

“Hypnosis is just a state of mind,” Alara told her. She made her voice softer still; soothing, but so quiet Weiss had to devote all her attention to each one of the counselor’s words. “A nice, relaxed state of mind. You’re nice and relaxed now, aren’t you? That means you’re halfway there already.”

“Oh…” Weiss’s voice was growing fainter by the moment. It was obvious she was already too dazed to really interrogate what Alara was saying to her. Weiss was proving incredibly susceptible. Alarmingly so, in fact.

At least it made it easy for Alara to take advantage.

“You’re doing very well,” Alara assured her. “This is exactly what we want. Going under hypnosis is perfectly easy, and you’re already doing a wonderful job. And because you’re doing so well, you might notice your awareness changing. You might notice that lots of things that normally bother and distract you are just kind of fading away. Maybe it’s the little aches and pains in your body. Maybe it’s some of the little thoughts and worries you sometimes find yourself dwelling on. Whatever it may be, I’m sure you can notice it simply fading into the background of your mind.”

Weiss just nodded and let out a faint, murmured noise of agreement.

“At the same time,” Alara continued, voice soft and melodic. “You might notice some things you usually tune out. For me, when I’m nice and relaxed, it’s always the ship’s engines. When you first come aboard, they seem so noisy, don’t they? But after a few days or weeks, you completely stop noticing them. Everyone does.”

Another nod.

“But when I’m as relaxed as you are now, I seem to find the sound again,” Alara went on. “That low, droning hum. It’s all I can think about. And it’s not just a sound. It’s a sensation. A vibration. Something you can feel throughout your entire body.”

She noticed Weiss shiver slightly. Clearly, she was feeling it.

“Hannah,” Alara said. “That sound is all you need to think about right now. So it’s completely fine if you just zone out and give it all of your attention. You don’t even need to think about my voice. You don’t need to listen. You can just yourself drift and sink, and maybe every now and then, as my voice and my words float through your head, you’ll find your attention naturally ebbing back towards me. Just letting my words be your guide, whenever it feels natural.”

Weiss seemed so very relaxed now. She was barely moving at all, except for the slow, pronounced rise and fall of her chest. She looked all but asleep, but Alara could tell she wasn’t from the telltale way her eyes pricked up, ever so slightly, whenever Alara spoke. She was hanging on the counselor’s every word, be it consciously or subconsciously.

Alara was fascinated. It was like this girl was the perfect subject. She leaned in, eager to drink in every little detail of how Weiss reacted.

“That’s right,” she urged breathily. “Let me be your guide. You can just let my voice flow in and out of you, letting my words guide you, knowing that this is a safe place and that you can trust me. Everything that happens here is safe, Hannah. I’m here to take care of you. Here to guide you.”

Another nod, this one barely perceptible. Weiss was clearly on the brink.

“And because I’m here to guide you,” Alara pressed, “it’s completely OK for you to just let go. To completely let go. To surrender that last little bit of awareness that’s keeping you from complete, perfect relaxation. Doesn’t it sound nice to just give that up, once and for all?”

A quiet, sleepy murmur of appreciation was her only reply.

“Of course it does,” Alara assured her. “You can leave everything up to me for a little while. Even thinking. Doesn’t that sound good? And I think you’re ready for it. I’m going to count you down, from five to zero. When I say ‘zero’, you’re going to feel the burden of every last thought lifting from your shoulders, and you will be perfectly hypnotized. Ready?”

No reply at all this time, but Alara could sense Hannah was primed and ready.

“Five,” she counted. “Feeling yourself beginning to sink. Beginning to descend.”

Weiss’s shoulders slumped still deeper.

“Four,” Alara counted. “Even that hum, the sound of the engines, is starting to grow faint.”

The movement behind her subject’s eyes had all but disappeared.

“Three. Only my voice. That’s all that’s left. Not even in your conscious mind, just in your subconsciousness.”

Weiss’s head began to loll to one side.

“Two. Whether you know it or not, you’re already preparing yourself to let go completely. You’re anticipating how it’s going to feel.”

One of Weiss’s arms slipped from the armrest of her chair, hanging limply off to one side. She didn’t stir.

“One. Feeling yourself on the precipice now, relaxed and attentive and ready to let go as soon as I say… zero.”

Weiss froze. She just froze. She didn’t slump forward or backward the way someone might if they had fallen asleep. Instead, she just became still as her mind shut down, leaving her only just conscious enough to keep herself suspended in the position she’d been resting in. She couldn’t move. Not unless Alara told her to. Hannah Weiss was now nothing more than a blank, open receptacle for whatever the counselor wanted to do to her.

Alara knew the signs well. It had been just as perfect as she’d always dreamed. Weiss was completely and perfectly hypnotized.

As tempting as it was to simply bask in the moment, Alara knew she had to consider what that meant. Weiss had sunk like a stone. Alara was confident of her technique and it was possible that the crewman was simply a natural subject, but given what Kuzentzov had told her, it was equally possible that she’d been conditioned this way. That she was already under the lingering effects of some form of mind control.

But still, it was too early to raise the alarm. Alara decided that more testing was called for. It was the only professionally responsible way to proceed.

“Hannah, can you hear me?” she asked. “Answer me nice and clearly, please.”

“Yes,” Weiss replied. Her voice was far stronger and clearer than it had been while she’d been going under, but it was also completely devoid of any emotion or feeling whatsoever. Hearing it sent chills racing through Alara.

“Good,” Alara said. “Now, raise your right arm.”

Slowly and steadily, Weiss obeyed. Her movements were stiff, even unnatural, like she was little more than a mannequin whose strings were being pulled. But as Alara watched, her right arm - the one that had been hanging off the side of her chair, started to lift up into the air until Weiss was holding it out straight in front of herself.

Immediate, unquestioning, unhesitating obedience. ‘Suggestible’ didn’t even begin to cover it.

That seemed significant, but Alara found herself distracted by how she herself was reacting. Seeing Weiss obey her like that sent even greater chills through her body, and filled her stomach with butterflies. She was experiencing a giddy, intoxicating thrill the likes of which she hadn’t felt in years. This was unbelievable. It was like a dream come true.

Alara had fantasized about things like this for decades. In her youth, those fantasies had even moved her to study psychology. She’d never imagined anything close to them would ever become a reality. It would almost be a shame when she had to put an end to it and wake Weiss up.

But she didn’t yet, did she? Alara decided there was more testing to be done. She needed to establish some parameters. Clearly Weiss was susceptible to mind control, but did that represent any real danger? Raising an arm was something anyone might do if you asked them to. Alara needed to know if Weiss might prove dangerous to the rest of the crew. She needed to test if she could push the boundaries of the young woman’s morality.

“Hannah,” Alara said, very slowly. “Take off your uniform.”

Immediately, Weiss came to life again. She rose to her feet, slowly but steadily, and began to methodically peel away the layers of her standard-issue Alliance uniform. She started with the jacket, unzipping it across her body and shrugging it from her shoulders before she reached down to remove her pants.

Alara watched the entire process, enraptured. She was used to telling the crew of this ship what they should do. She wasn’t at all used to them obeying. The experience was unfamiliar - but far from unpleasant. For once, Alara felt powerful. She felt in control.

And she liked it.

If all the crew were like this, maybe she could actually fix them and their silly little problems. They’d listen to Alara’s every word. They’d have to. She could have them dancing to her tune. They would be perfectly behaved for once. They’d have to be.

An enticing concept.

Once Weiss finished undressing, she was left standing at attention in nothing more than her plain, white underwear. Her blank eyes were fixed straight ahead, seeing and comprehending nothing, and her face registered no embarrassment or discomfort. In that moment, Alara felt like she could do anything she wanted to the girl - and before she could stop herself, an urge got the better of her.

“Those too.” Alara gestured to Weiss’s bra and panties. “Take them off.”

Again, she obeyed. Alara was left rationalizing. Maybe telling her to remove her uniform simply wasn’t pushing her far enough. After all, simply being seen in your underwear was far from the worst thing. Nakedness was the logical next step. Alara was just investigating. That was all.

So what if she was also enjoying it?

Slipping out of her remaining clothes didn’t take Weiss long. Soon enough she was completely naked, and no less hypnotized for it. She was still completely and totally empty-headed. Watching her strip left Alara’s mouth dry. For all her rationalizing, she was conscious of the fact that she’d crossed a line. Anything Alara did beyond this point was truly taboo. It was conduct deeply unbecoming of a ship’s counselor.

But in her heart of hearts, she knew she couldn’t just stop. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

“Sit down,” Alara instructed. Every time Weiss obeyed, it sent a fresh wave of heat through the older woman’s body. It was addictive. “Spread your legs.”

Hannah sat back down on the chair behind her and robotically moved her thighs apart until her legs were splayed wide, exposing herself to anyone who might have been watching. The pose was unmistakably sexual - but still, she wasn’t waking up. She wasn’t even stirring. There was no hint that Alara was approaching her limits. What had been done to the poor girl? Did she even have limits?

Alara needed to find out. She was burning to find out.

What about touch? She’d yet to try that, and she was so desperately curious. Alara rose from her seat and reached out - slowly, at first, but with a growing eagerness and hunger. There was no turning back now, after all.

At first, she kept it innocent. Her fingertips met Weiss’s skin on the hypnotized girl’s stomach. Hannah was as unresponsive as a statue; it was Alara who gasped faintly at the way Weiss’ soft, pale skin yielded to her touch. A fresh sense of power surged with the counselor. Weiss seemed so much more like a doll than a person, now. That very thought was intoxicating. And beyond that - it was really, irresistibly hot.

Alara’s hand started moving down, tracing a path over Weiss’s navel and beyond, deviating to one side so that her knuckles brushed against Weiss’s inner thighs. Finally, Hannah showed signs of life, but not the way Alara had expected. It was purely physiological: hairs standing on end, a barely-perceptible flush in her cheeks, a slight, suppressed twitch as Alara’s hand strayed closer and closer to her pussy. But through it all, her eyes stayed glassy and unfocused. There was no indication that she might wake up, or that there was even a single independent thought left in her head.

Alara could scarcely believe what she was seeing. It was like a fantasy come to life. It was perfect. Fuck, it was so hot. As if in a trance herself, she kept moving, inching further and further down, until her hand was just about to touch against Hannah’s-

“Oh wow! You’re even more of a pervert than I’d hoped, shrink.”

Alara’s heart leapt into her throat. She wheeled at the voice, her cheeks already scorching hot with shame at having been discovered. She found herself face-to-face with a woman who was sitting in Alara’s chair, entirely at ease, as if she’d been watching the entire time. Except that was impossible; the door to Alara’s office was locked and she hadn’t heard anyone knock, let alone come in.

Then, she noticed the arrays of holographic lights arranged around her office, all of which were lit up and pointed in the intruder’s direction. They were running some kind of program Alara had never written. That settled it. This woman was a hologram. But that still didn’t explain what was going on. Nobody could access the holographic systems in this room except Alara. For someone else to use them, they must have hacked deep into the Inyx’s central computer. Which meant…

“You’re… Wasp,” Alara said cautiously. “Aren’t you?”

She didn’t recognize the hacker on sight. Alara had no reason to pay much mind to the various mission and tactical briefings the Inyx’s crew received, after all. But she couldn’t imagine anyone else out here presenting themselves this way, with dyed, neon-green hair and in audacious, punk clothing that showed off dozens of tattoos.

“Got it in one!” Wasp giggled. “Now, let me save you some time: yes, I’ve hacked into your ship’s systems. Yes, I have total control. Yes, I’m using holotech to brainwash the crew one-by-one, exactly as Vasser’s right-hand girl suspects.” She winked when Alara looked particularly offended by that last one. “Yeah. I read your patient notes. Oops, my bad.”

“But…” Alara’s mind was racing. “How…”

What Wasp was telling her sounded beyond impossible, but she said it so matter-of-factly, the counselor couldn’t bring herself to be skeptical. And if nothing else, it would certainly explain a few things.

“Never mind that.” Wasp waved a dismissive hand. “Long story. And I’d much rather talk about you.” The cocksure smirk on her face took on a distinctly malicious tone, and she glanced pointedly at the still-hypnotized Weiss. “Having fun, were we?”

Alara flinched and looked down. Wasp had seen everything. Had she recorded it? “I was just…”

“Oh, there’s no need to explain yourself!” Wasp taunted. She rose to her feet and started circling the room, completely at ease. “Trust me, I get it. Frankly, how could you resist?”

"I was experimenting.” Alara tried to make her voice calm and firm. She had a lot of practice with that. “Performing my duty as counselor to investigate the extent of whatever mind control you’ve-“

“Bullshit!” Wasp sang out, plainly delighted. “Admit it, shrink. You’re practically dripping under that jumpsuit.”

Alara couldn’t quite keep her shame out of her face, and Wasp crowed with laughter.

“Don’t worry,” she told Alara once her laughter died. “Trust me, I’m not one to judge. And I’m not going to tell. Your naughty little secret is safe with me.”

“It’s not…” Alara looked away. “I made a mistake.”

“Aw, don’t be like that!” Wasp snorted. “It was a pleasure watching you work. You’re clearly more than a little familiar with that way of getting into people’s heads. Always happy to meet a kindred spirit.”

Alara balled her hands into fists. She needed to move on from this. To regain some kind of control of the situation. “What do you want, Wasp? I suppose I’m to be your next victim?”

Wasp just giggled. “What gives you that idea?”

“Why else would you confront me like this?” Alara shot back. “You have no reason to take the risk of me revealing this to the captain. Not unless you plan to make sure I’m unable to.”

“I like the way you think,” Wasp commented. “But you’re a little off, Alara. I mean, firstly, I already got to Vasser. She was the first, as a matter of fact. But more importantly, no, I don’t want to make you my next victim.”

“Then what do you want?” Alara demanded.

Wasp licked her lips. “I want you to join me.”

Alara’s blood ran cold. “Why?”

“Because that sounds fun.” Wasp paused to shrug as she waltzed around the room. “More fun than making you just another brainwashed bimbo or something. I’m getting a little bored of that. Plus, I hate to see potential go to waste. But doing my part to help the Inyx’s sweet little counselor embrace her wild side for a change? Now that’s a good time.”

“But…” Alara was struggling to process that. The idea that even a reckless villain like Wasp would orchestrate all of this on a mere whim was staggering. “Why would I ever…”

Wasp winked at her. “Same reason.”

Alara bristled and drew herself up. “You’ve made a serious mistake,” she warned. “And frankly, you’re delusional if you think that I would ever consider betraying both the Alliance and all of my comrades just for the sake of… of…”

Her voice trailed off and her conviction ebbed away as she found herself completely distracted by what Wasp was doing.

Wasp had circled around to the chair in which Weiss was still slumped and, as Alara was talking, had draped herself over the back of the chair and was reaching down, sliding her hands across the hypnotized crewman’s body. Alara was transfixed by the spectacle, especially when Wasp slipped a hand between Hannah’s legs and slowly, deliberately, pushed two of her fingertips into her pussy.

Alara’s train of thought vanished. There was just something irresistibly magical about what she was seeing. About the way Weiss remained perfectly blank and still even as she was violated, except for just a few slight, automatic twitches as her body responded to the stimulation. No one who was simply trying or acting could have managed such total lifelessness and mindlessness. Alara’s indignation was dulled, and her curiosity aroused.

It would be completely and totally unethical, of course - but Alara couldn’t help but wonder about all she might be able to do with such a remarkable subject to experiment on.

“You really are a natural,” Wasp whispered to her. She kept her eyes locked on Alara’s even as she started finger-fucking Hannah Weiss in a slow, steady rhythm. “You knew exactly what to do with her. Almost like you’ve been waiting for something just like this.”

Alara wanted to deny it. She wanted to, but she knew how her voice would sound if she tried.

She hadn’t been waiting. Not consciously. But it was beginning to feel like she had.

“It makes me wonder,” Wasp went on teasingly, matching the cadence of her voice to the way she was exploring and enjoying Weiss’s body. “How far would you have gone, if I hadn’t interrupted you?”

Alara shivered. She’d been asking herself the same thing.

“Would you have done this?”

Wasp pushed her fingers deeper into Weiss; all the way to the knuckle, and then further, all the way. Weiss shuddered, back arching from sheer, automatic reflex, and her deep, slow breathing caught as Wasp touched something sensitive deep inside her. When Wasp pulled her fingers free, they were slick and sticky with wetness, and Weiss’s entire body was thrumming with pleasure - but still, she couldn’t wake. It was like she was having a wet dream sitting upright, with her eyes open.

Alara couldn’t look away.

“Or maybe… this?” Wasp teased, bringing her hand back up Weiss’s body. “Is this where your mind was going?”

She turned her attention to Weiss’s mouth, prying her unresisting lips apart and slipping her still-wet fingers into her mouth. Weiss was far too deeply hypnotized to lick or suck without being told, but her tongue still yielded to Wasp as she stroked her fingertips across it, forcing Weiss to taste her own juices and leaving her with her tongue lolling a little way out of her mouth. Alara shivered as possibilities flashed through her mind.

“Ah, yes.” Wasp seized upon her reaction. “She could be very good, you know. You can train her at it. Make her exactly the way you like her.” She toyed idly with the tip of Weiss’s tongue. A drop of saliva formed at the very end. “She’d be perfect. And the best part? She’d never even know.”

“S-stop,” Alara pleaded - but even as she spoke, she knew that wasn’t what she wanted.

She could train Weiss. She could make her exactly the way she wanted. She could make her perfect.

How many times had she yearned for that, in all her time acting as ship’s counselor on the Inyx or some other Alliance warship?

Just for once, Alara Hisarlik could be in control.

“You don’t want me to stop,” Wasp mocked. “Just like you didn’t want to stop yourself. Admit it - we’re way beyond principles now. This is about who you want to be, Alara. A bored, ignored headshrink? Or someone who gets what she wants?”

“Bored…?” Alara blinked. “How do you know that?”

Wasp rolled her eyes. “I’ve been reading your personal logs too. Duh. Hacker.”

Anger flared within Alara - but not brightly enough to outshine her other urges. Her darker urges. Right now, she couldn’t pretend that a little invasion of privacy was what truly mattered. What mattered was that Alara was facing a choice: she could either raise the alarm and go back to her old life as a counselor, or she could embrace what Wasp was offering. She could join her conspiracy, and plumb the depths of her own, twisted desires.

That prospect should have horrified her. It should have, but as she contemplated, Alara realized something alarming: she didn’t care. Not about the Inyx, or the Alliance, or Captain Vasser, or anyone else on the crew. She just didn’t. What had they ever done except take her presence for granted? This wasn’t about them. This was about Alara, and what she wanted.

“It’s your choice,” Wasp told her. “I’m offering you a chance. It’s up to you what happens to poor Hannah here… at least, in a way. Not like she’s going to get her own mind back. No; if you don’t want to have fun with her, then maybe I should enjoy a little taste instead.”

As she spoke, Wasp took the point of Hannah Weiss’s chin between her thumb and forefinger, and tilted it up and to the side until Hannah was facing her. Then, as Wasp leaned in, her hardlight holographic body subtly flickered and changed, and her eyes started to fill with bright, bleeding, pulsing spirals that were being projected out from within.

For the first time, Weiss seemed to respond to something. Acting on some deeply-conditioned reflex, her eyes fixed on the spirals in Wasp’s and shot wide, as if she was drinking in their eerie, mind-altering light. Her face reflected those spinning colors and she started leaning in, swaying like a drunk, her lips perilously close to Wasp’s. Alara still couldn’t fathom exactly what Wasp had done to her, but clearly it was potent. There was no mistaking the fact that Wasp was inside Weiss’s head, and could do absolutely anything she wanted with the helpless, brainwashed crewman.

“Stop!” Alara barked. She was at her limit.

The spirals vanished from Wasp’s eyes and she turned to look at Alara instead, an expression of gleeful malice writ large on her face. “Oh? And why should I?”

Alara met Wasp’s gaze. There was only one answer. “Because she’s mine.”

Wasp threw back her head and laughed. Then, she stood up and straight and walked over to Alara. “Welcome aboard, shrink.”

Alara nodded curtly. Getting into bed with someone like Wasp was still an uneasy proposition, and she remained more than a little shocked at her own feelings. But there was one thing she knew for certain: she couldn’t go back.

That left her only one option. But it wouldn’t be unpleasant, at least. Alara had set aside an entire hour for her session with Weiss. She still had thirty minutes left. A smile came to her face as she thought about all the things she was going to be able to do to that girl’s head in thirty minutes.

And, of course, in the follow-up sessions they were going to schedule.

“I’ll leave you to enjoy yourself in a moment.” Wasp nodded approvingly at the smile on Alara’s face. She knew that look well. “But first, just one thing: let’s talk about what we’d like you to do to Lieutenant Kuznetzov.”

—

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who  support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following  patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

Artemis, Chloe, Grillfan65, The Secret Subject, Morriel, Dex, orangesya, Red, dmtph, Queenfisher, MegatronTarantulas, NewtypeWoman, WhyamIhere, Vanessa, Madeline, BTYOR, Sarah, Mattilda, Emily Queen of sloths, ntad, Shadows exile, Abigail, Hypnogirl_Stephanie_, Jade, mintyasleep, John, ZephanyZephZeph, Michael, Be_Be, Tasteful Ardour, Chris, Dennis, paxDulcetGirl, Full Blown Marxism, Morder, S, Myles_EXVS, Brendon, Drone 8315, Jack the Monkey, Jim, Erin, HannahSolaria, Christopher, hellenberg, Kay, Miss_Praxis, Violet, Noct, Charlotte, Faun, BrinnShea, B, Foridin, Jennifer, EepyTimeTea, Slifer274, Roxxie, Phoenix, Ivy, Jim, Sebastian, Joseph, Yaoups, Thomas, Liz, naivetynkohan, Basic dev, SuperJellyFrogEx, night, Katie, Lily, spyrocyndersam13, zzzz, Mal, Jose, Bouncyrou, Anonymous, ravenfan, Bacon Man, Nimapode, Melody, Selina, SkinnyQP, NuclearBoarhead, Kunoichiru, Jonathan, Friday, FemKUltra, Z!, WhyamIhere, Pluto, Flluffie, Maxence, Ash, Artemis

[frostcorpsclub]

25 and 40 for Suzy from the Weirdly Specific OC Questions meme 💙

25. What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

Art history! Her mother was one of those rich people who would have kept an artist around to commission lots of paintings and statues like in the renaissance if she could, she was an avid collector of art. Trips to the gallery and art auctions were some of the only times Suzy was on her best behavior so her mother would bring her! She was genuinely interested and it was the one positive of an otherwise toxic relationship so it’s something Suzy cherishes. Florian Althaus who I’ve mentioned minimally before, was Eloise’s affair partner and Suzy’s music/german teacher, he was an art collector by profession. So it has been a near constant in her life.

You may have seen me joke about Jack liking trash tv like “Pawn Stars,” this is really the only time her love of art history and antiques comes up. He loves the trash portion and she loves the treasure, giving him subtle clues so he has more fun making guesses about the items while thinking he deduced them himself.

It’s funny because people always ask what age gap couples have in common which is a fair question but Jack being so old and Suzy being so rich it kind of cancels out LOL

40. How do they respond to a loose handshake? What goes through their head?

I’m going to do you one better and also tell you how she’d respond to a handshake that’s too hard too, because something I’ve noticed is that some men (I’ve seen videos of women discussing it) will hurt a woman on purpose with their handshakes as a power move.

Loose and weak: It depends on what else she observes about the person but either way it isn’t good.

If a man shaking her hand is relatively young she would take a matronly stance, turning her nose up and explaining that this is something that simply must be fixed if he was going to make any good impressions in his industry. If he’s like a teenager/child level of young she gives him some grace, but the behavior still must be corrected.

If it’s an older and more important man she would probably keep it to herself as she understands social hierarchies of course, but it will affect the way she talks about him with others. She’d see him as feeble and nervous, she can smell his fear or his inadequacies and she won’t keep her mouth shut if someone asks for her opinions. Which people often do, her instincts may be petty and persnickety but sometimes they’re right.

She doesn’t usually shake hands with women but if she does it isn’t that big of a deal to hear, the other woman probably just isn’t used to doing it. Suzy would judge the fact she went in for a handshake at all over the quality of it, then again, why do it if you are going to fail at it!

Overcompensating: Now THIS is where she’s at her best hehehe

Suzy isn’t one of those pick me girls who agrees with everything a man says for attention and validation, even if she pretends to be to piss people off. She can pick out a man who’s overcompensating from a mile away. She contemplates them as the spider contemplates a fly in its web. If she has any say in the matter she will try to stick back and catch his eye, hide behind her fan and make herself small and demure, but also ensure there’s others around her. Hopefully other men who care for her.

When she finally goes in for the kill she gingerly places her hand in his at which point the man would squeeze like he was trying to break her hand. She lets out the most pathetic princessly yelp she can muster and looks at him with her mouth agape.

“Do you mean to beset me Sir?!”

She looks around to make sure people are watching.

“That is NOT a gentleman’s handshake!” (/ref)

You may think that a man doing that probably would feel good about hurting a woman but that’s not the point, she can give him the win of getting a reaction out of her in exchange for publicly humiliating him.

[lemonhemlock]

Thoughts on rhaencient?

and

Thoughts on rhaencient

and

What are ur thoughts on rhaenyra and alicents relationship?

i hear your grievances and i have come to address them!

what can i say, anons. this was one of the changes i really liked from the books. by making alicent rhaenyra's age, they removed the frankly overdone evil stepmother trope. or, rather, by making them childhood companions, they subverted it in an unexpected way. it's really "shut up or i'll fuck ur dad" only with extra layers of tragedy.

i thought their dynamic was really well done actually? i loved how they were framed. alicent helping rhaenyra dress before her ceremonial investiture. the twin faces of sorrow when viserys announces he will marry alicent in the small council room. the deleted scenes of rhaenyra helping alicent in her wedding dress. the hand-holding after the tapestries farce! the "alicent, your grace, sister"!!!! i was obsessed with THE GIRLS in the first half of the show!

i've noticed that the gay subtext really flies over a lot of people's heads & i think it's bc it's more socially-acceptable for girls to display physical affection towards each other than it is for men. so it's easier for viewers to resort to the traditional reading that "they're just gal pals". i was v disappointed with some male asoiaf reviewers i've watched since so many elements that had to do with womanhood were completely invisible to them. it was so jarring. but there was this permeating sense of YEARNING and melancholic tension that emanated out of these two, like you could sense they were meant to be soulmates

i think it's fair to say that rhaenyra is probably a bisexual woman (esp if we also take into account her dalliance with laena in the books), as she seems to also be very comfortable within relationships with men. but, for alicent, i don't really think she knows what she is. that exploration of self was denied to her and her feelings for rhaenyra were misdirected the moment she was forced to have children & fear for their lives. there's also this little-discussed facet of alicent as a queer woman shoved inside a very traditional female matronly role from a very early age. coerced into having old man sex with her decaying husband, impregnated against her will, just very generally developing a noxious relationship with sex. whereas rhaenyra is afforded the opportunity of reveling in romantic love and inhabits the role of motherhood from a much calmer, more balanced perspective

i've already spoken about the symbolism of The Page in the final third of this post, but alicent & rhaenyra are such representatives of their houses' respective ideologies: soft power & diplomacy vs conquest & claiming. alicent wants to tame rhaenyra. rhaenyra wants to ravish alicent. they could have MAYBE balanced each other out in a utopic world where they would have just been allowed to BE & it's so jarring to see how they're torn apart by gross old men who barter with women's bodies and convince themselves they are doing what's right for them & their families. but ofc it's also The System TM as a whole at fault here. no one wins, no one is happy, no one is safe under patriarchal feudalism.

the breakdown of their relationship doesn't happen overnight, it's a ruin dismantled brick by brick by them, their fathers, the society that has no place for them to explore their bond, the bankruptcy of empathy, the failure of trust, but still they cling onto each other whenever they are rewarded a moment of respite!

[horizon-verizon]

A Response to Ozymalek’s Video on HotD’s Alicent Hightower

LINK to Video on Youtube, “Let's talk about Alicent Hightower...”

This was my comment on their video, specifically responding to them answering the hypothetical of a company asking them to make Alicent a more “sympathetic” character than she was portrayed in the book (skip to 9:07):

Your "sympathetic Alicent" sounds much better. If Alicent were Aemma's lady in waiting and another mother figure to Rhaenyra or at least matronly towards her, Rhaenyra's loss of a mother would make her emotionally more needful of Alicent's presence and they would spend more time together. Perhaps Alicent even becomes Rhaenyra's l-i-w. Viserys, in visiting Rhaenyra, sees Alicent and has more conversation with her than before when she was serving Aemma as Alicent as Aemma's "peer" of age. Having been physically closer to her, Alicent can regale Viserys with moments and memories of Aemma, which would comfort Viserys and bring them closer. 

Thus we still have the element of semi-seediness and feeling conflicted for both parties (maybe in this version, Alicent loved or cared for Aemma very much). Thus they have a noncoercive emotional bond that still presents an uncomfortable storyline that audiences contend with: the show could have asked: “Is this right, when Alicent was Aemma's l-i-w? But they like each other, but then Alicent may have a son. Is Rhaenyra going to be disinherited before she ever reaches adulthood, and through her own mother figure? Will Rhaenyra lose another mother? Was this Alicent's plan (even semiconscious) all along? Where does her ambition start and her love for him end?” Etc. 

As for Rhaenyra, I think that to some people, the sense of betrayal may not come as sharp as between childhood friends because she already sees Alicent as a mother figure and just lost her mother, she might be grateful for that. Or because they think that mother-daughter figures where "mother" betrays the "daughter" is somehow less poignant or serious than two female peers doing it....but no, it has its own pain and is still a mighty betrayal. It's an adult hurting a child AND having had some sort of genuine connection with her before. Which makes the betrayal as damaging and as terrible as it is. But what makes up for that (or what else, rather than "makes up, "to the careful observer) is Rhaenyra's fear of being replaced--politically and emotionally, being “abandoned” by both matron figure, actual mother, and father all at once.

And what about Alicent, now smarter, thinking of the future and the happenstance of her birthing a boy? Does she now spend less and less time with Rhaenyra, semi/intentionally separating herself from her? To make it juicy, yes she does, and intentionally. Thus the break between "mother-daughter" occurs even before Viserys marries Alicent, as each woman sees the other's ambition and priorities. She and Alicent can get into actual public debates and confrontations even before Alicent marries Viserys because 15-year-old Rhaenyra sees the writing on the wall. If she is 9, like in the book, Alicent could still try to separate herself from Rhaenyra, or a change worth exploring is that she actually does try to foster goodwill between them so that later when she fights for Aegon's claim, Rhaenyra is more conflicted and caught off guard (in Alicent's perspective). 

What's even juicier is that 9-yr old Rhaenyra perhaps feels more and more, as she grows, Alicent's duplicity and lack of earnestness in her regard and affection before and after marrying Viserys. Children are people, they can still feel ill will or impatience from adults and this itself could make a stifling environment for Rhaenyra, and set up her self-doubt. This woman has always cared for me and she loves my mother, aren't I betraying her by questioning her intentions? That sort of thing. The queen's party is small and discreet until Alicent accidentally shows her hand or Rhaenyra hears what happens with Otto's dismissal and hears Alicent vie for Aegon. 

 The point is there is a break. Here is still room for feelings of betrayal that are also suppressed, by both women/girls. After Viserys shows how he doesn't want Aegon despite Alicent caring for him and building an actual relationship with him, she grows resentful while also feeling it her duty to be emotionally accommodating to a degree and out of Viserys' line of sight. Most of the time. Sometimes, she can't help but direct her resentment to Rhaenyra through innuendoes, subtle insults, recriminations for slouching, looking a certain way, acting "unseemly", etc. Because maybe she convinces herself that as the Queen and Rhaenyra's stepmother, she has a duty to "guide" her toward that only "right" way of dress, thinking, etc. Meanwhile, she's not being totally honest with herself and is actually trying to break Rhaenyra down while gathering her own supporters. Before Viserys dismisses her suggestion to marry Rhaenyra to Aegon, she thinks that she's molding Rhaenyra to be a good woman for her son. 

Thus leading to Rhaenyra's red/black dress moment, and Alicent reacting to that by also declaring her party's color, green. I think we can still have Otto being emotionally abusive towards Alicent from her childhood, and inserting even more motivation for her wanting power, some of her attraction for Viserys, and wanting her son on the throne. It doesn't have to be all about Otto hurting her and wanting power over him, escaping him, or surpassing him (though that would be still part of it). 

So then we’d have a better narrative and concrete scenes in her childhood/adolescence of her anxiety growing and growing, more than what we got in the show. She may also just want power that the average noblewoman/woman of Andal-descent families get and feel justified in wanting such power by serving Aemma, being Rhaenyra's role model (in her eyes), and bringing comfort to Viserys. Like Catelyn, Alicent could have had a living contradiction in her belief that she, as a woman, was entitled to decision-making power, but through her son and husband being paths to that power denied to her. Using as well misogynist principles to place herself on top. That need for power would itself be corrupting.

blankwhiteshield says this:

You can have an irredeemable and evil character that the patriarchy still suppresses and affects the psychology of immensely, rendering her a bigger monster. The commentary on the destructive capacity of static social constructs is not lost as a result. A character can turn into the devil of the story due to a world that ceaselessly strips her of her humanity, as well as as a result of the choices she actively makes.

[justicegundam82]

Pathfinder 2E to 1E Conversion: Sweet Hag

This creature was relatively easy for me to convert, mechanically speaking. But as for its flavour text (no pun intended, of course), it was a whole other matter. The Sweet Hag involves a lot of potentially triggering material, for which I have given warnings below. I hope this new conversion doesn't become too shocking.

And as always, enjoy, and if you want, please send me some feedback and constructive criticism! ^^

HAG, SWEET

Image (c) Paizo, taken from the Pathfinder Nexus here

This matronly and clearly overweight woman sports a pleasant smile, and her yellowish skin somewhat resembles melting taffy. She is dressed in a cook’s garb.

SWEET HAG                       CR 4

XP 1’200

CE Medium Monstrous Humanoid

Init +1; Senses darkvision 60 ft., child-scent; Perception +10

DEFENSE

AC 17, touch 12, flat-footed 15 (+1 Dex, +1 dodge, +5 natural)

hp 45 (6d10+12)

Fort +4, Ref +6, Will +8

Damage Reduction 5/slashing or piercing

Spell Resistance 15

OFFENSE

Speed 30 ft.

Melee 2 slams +9 (1d4+3 plus soporific touch)

Special Attacks betraying touch, soporific touch

Spell-Like Abilities (CL 6th, concentration +10)

     Constant – pass without trace, tongues

     At will – alter self, daze (DC 14), innocence, light, purify food and drink

     3/day – create food and water (sweets only)

     1/day – charm person (DC 15), hideous laughter (DC 15), invisibility, reduce person (DC 15), sleep (DC 15)

STATISTICS

Str 16, Dex 13, Con 15, Int 14, Wis 13, Cha 18

Base Atk +6; CMB +9; CMD 20

Feats Deceitful, Dodge, Iron Will

Skills Bluff +12, Disguise +12, Knowledge (nature) +8, Perception +10, Profession (cook) +12, Sense Motive +4, Stealth +9; Racial Modifiers +4 Profession (cook)

Languages Aklo, Common, Sylvan; tongues

Special Qualities poisoned candy

ECOLOGY

Environment temperate and cold forests

Organization solitary or coven (3 hags of any kind)

Treasure standard

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Betraying Touch (Su) By touching a creature that currently does not see her as a threat, a sweet hag can subject that creature to her soporific touch ability, imposing a -4 circumstance penalty to the victim's saving throw. The creature does not become aware that the hag has used this ability on them unless they succeed at a Sense Motive check opposed by the hag's Bluff check.

Child-Scent (Ex) A sweet hag has the scent ability, but only with respect to humanoid children.

Poisoned Candy (Su) The sweet hag can cast one of the following spell-like abilities on a piece of food that she has prepared, typically a sweet treat: charm person, hideous laughter, reduce person or sleep. This does not count against the number of times per day the spell-like ability can be used. The first creature that eats the food is affected by the spell, and takes a –4 circumstance penalty to their saving throw against that effect. A sweet hag may only use this ability on food that she has prepared herself - food created via the create food and water spell-like ability may not be altered in this way.

Soporific Touch (Su) A creature that takes damage from a sweet hag's slam attack also suffers 1d4 point of Strength damage (Fortitude DC 17 negates). A victim reduced to 0 Strength falls into a deep slumber, dreaming of eating delicious sweets, until it has regained at least 1 point of Strength. This is a sleep effect. The save DC is Charisma based.

A sweet hag is a vile predator of children that hides behind a cheerful and caring front to lure her victims to an horrific fate. Using their magic to alter their appearence to that of harmless old ladies or matronly bakers, they entice children with the promise of delicious sweets, with a distinct preference for the poor, the homeless, the abused and, in general, all those children who are unlikely to be missed. A sweet hag offers its prospective victims not just delicious food, but also a facade of kindness and generosity. However, as soon as her victim has come to trust her, the sweet hag either enslaves them or puts them to sleep in order to be butchered and eaten. Some sweet hags have been known to put their young prisoners into cages and force-feed them to fatten them up, all in order to enjoy a tastier meal later.

All sweet hags are excellent cooks - they have to be, in order for their trap to work. They have the unique ability to mix some harmful spells into the food they prepare, in order to incapacitate their prey or anyone that might come to investigate on her. While they don't have much in terms of fighting skills, their touch can sap strength from their victims, until they fall into a blissful sleep populated with dreams of delicious food. A sweet hag's touch is even more dangerous to those who are unaware of her true colors, putting them to sleep with most of them not realizing why they are getting weaker by the minute. In any event, sweet hags are typically cowards, and will turn invisible and flee as soon as they suspect they're facing actual danger.

Sweet hags usually dwell in houses not too far away from cities and villages, in the ideal position to draw children in, but still far enough not to raise suspicion. While they are omnivorous, they particularly relish the taste of children, and consider gnomes to be a real delicacy. Sweet hags despise elves, which probably has to do with elves not being affected by their sleep-inducing magics. While a sweet hag will murder an elf in order to keep her cover or out of spite, she never eats one unless it is severely famished.

Sweet hags rarely join covens, but when they do, the coven adds grove of respite and neutralize poison to their spell list.

[ohtomatotome]

Watch

—----------

Title: “Watch”

Characters: Comte de Saint-Germain, Sebastian x Female Reader (Ikemen Vampire)

Word Count: 1,598

Rating: E

Tags: Jealousy, Unrequited love, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex

Trigger Warnings: Broken Trust?

Author’s Note: Part of #VisionsOfTemptation2022 for Kinktober (prompt credit to @xxsycamore ). This one is angsty. Why do I hurt Comte? I certainly don’t hate him. In fact, he’s my favorite character in the game.  It seems like everything I write for him has him either panicking, pining, pouting, or putting an end to a fight. Perhaps because in the game he appears serene and capable on the outside, so I enjoy seeing him struggle with something that really challenges his composure. 

Prompt Used: Voyeurism

—----------

It had started out so innocent, so seldom, so unattached.

When you arrived at the Parisian mansion in the 1890s, le Comte was the perfect host. He had assumed the father-figure role for most of the vampires there, and that same paternal regard was extended to you. You felt safe within his careful gaze. How could you know heat lurked beneath the gentle smile?

The truth was far more expansive than you ever realized. He was always watching.

When you were receiving idle flirtations from Arthur and Dazai, he had seen your flustered blush.

When Napoleon surprised you with his innocent morning kiss, he had been outside the door.

When you were relaxing in the thermae, he had hid himself in the corner obscured by steam and plants. Later that night would be the first in a countless string of nights he had jerked himself off while picturing you.

When you were trying so hard to impress Sebastian, he saw the determination on your face. 

When you had reached a boiling point of frustration with trying to understand your feelings for Sebastian, he watched you run to Leonardo for consolation. 

When a special spark of electricity passed between your gaze with Sebastian one evening at dinner, he didn’t miss it.

When you and Sebastian were working side by side in the kitchen and exchanging lingering glances and quick little kisses, he had been watching from the hallway.

He had been a silent witness to all your important moments in the mansion. He had held his tongue for too long and let the chance slip away. He could have easily made a romantic impression on you from the very beginning, sweeping you off your feet and making sure you looked at no one but him. 

But he hadn’t. 

That would have been selfish.

Besides, you would be leaving in one month, so what would have been the point to secure your affections?

How was he to know that the Door would malfunction for so long and trap you here in the past?

In the interim, you fell in love with Sebastian, and he with you. Everyone was happy for the both of you. It seemed only natural for the two humans to pair up. 

It would have been unnatural if you had chosen a vampire, to say nothing of a pureblood. 

Unnatural, indeed.

Never had jealousy felt so personal to le Comte.

When your relationship was becoming more intimate, you began fretting over the plain and matronly state of your underthings. They had been a bulk delivery of identical pieces that Comte bought as soon as you arrived. You hadn’t had a say in it. You were grateful at the time, but now you wish you had something a little more exciting to wear, since there was someone in your life who was going to see you naked. Eventually. 

Le Comte watched you grumbling as you pawed through her dresser. Of course he was there, out in the hall, watching. “Would you like something new? Any particular item in mind? Let me buy it for you. Come, ma cherie, let’s go shopping.” 

He watched you run your hand over the silk drawers and camisoles in the shop. His vivid imagination pictured your shapely form being hugged by that champagne fabric, visualized your hand gliding down his own bare stomach and reaching lower, the new light of dawn dappling your skin. 

“Monsieur?” Your perky voice brought him out of his reverie.

Of course he had to have you try them on to make sure they fit. He insisted on standing guard right outside the dressing room. He smirked as he heard the rustle of fabric and your delighted cooing. There was immense pleasure to be taken in the knowledge of you wearing the lingerie at his request first, before Sebastian ever got to see them. And even greater pleasure knowing that he was the one purchasing the items that would be closest to your nakedness.

—------

He also happened to watch as you boldly led a red-faced Sebastian into your room one night. 

Le Comte decided to indulge his own selfish fantasies for once. As soon as you closed your door, he silently locked himself in the room next to yours. This unused room held a secret known only to him: a peep hole through the back of the closet that was hidden behind the tapestry hung in your room, threads strategically thinned out in that exact spot. The surveillance was originally needed for a suspicious house guest Comte did not trust. He hadn’t used it in decades. 

His watchful eyes were on your every move as you began to loosen your layers of constrictive clothing, shimmying out of them until you were only clad in the very same lingerie he had bought you. Le Comte observed this fact with pride and satisfaction. And envy. Always envy, that ever-present thorn in his heart.

You encouraged Sebastian to undress next, kissing him as he undid his many buttons and snaps. Now the two of you are just in your underwear, the candlelight and moonlight cooperating to give your curves the most delectable shadows and highlights. You made a slow show of removing the silk slip until the only thing touching your skin was the pale light.

Le Comte longingly contemplated your bare beauty and silently cursed the butler for not grabbing your hips to see how the plump flesh gave under the pressure of a squeeze. He heard you say something in a low, sultry voice, but even with vampiric hearing could not make out all the words. The hungry tone, however, was unmistakable. It waltzed down his spine deep into his belly. That tone was the last inducement he needed before unbuttoning his pants and taking out his member, already stiffening and begging to be stroked.

Sebastian didn't need any further coaxing either. After you laid on the bed he began working between your legs with his mouth and fingers, making up for with enthusiasm what he lacked in experience. Le Comte watched your lips with rapt attention, how they opened and closed around silent gasps. Each inhale of yours was matched with a stroke of his hand down his cock. Sebastian continued until you were mewling and your thighs started to twitch involuntarily with pleasurable spams. 

You pleaded in a husky voice for your lover to fill you, clutching at his hair and tugging him up towards your body. Le Comte had to be careful now, his heavy breaths were difficult to keep silent. He strained to see your face as Sebastian entered you. Exquisite. Sublime. Perfect.  The low moan you let out was enough to shake Comte so badly he had to hold onto the wall for support before he erupted. He was close, but he wanted to hold out as long as possible and cum at the same time as you.

Sebastian staggered the pace of his thrusting, sometimes fast and hard, sometimes slow and deep. Comte tried to time his fist strokes along with your sounds, imagining it is him that was making her sound so wanton and needy. In his fantasy, you had always come to his room when you needed consoling. It was his shoulder that you had cried onto. It was his arms that you found solace. It was his eyes that you desperately wanted to capture. It was his heart that you fought to uncover. It was his soul that you had desired. It was him that you loved. Him. Not Leo, not Sebastian, not anyone else. He was the only one who gave you everything you needed.

Right at that moment, he closed his eyes as his mind was painting a picture of the two of you making love in the garden gazebo at midnight. He could almost smell the night-blooming phlox and hear the crickets. You’re lying beneath him, gazing up at him with eyes full of love and lust. Oh! If only you had ever looked at him like that, just once. Just once. Just…

Your sighs and gasps turned breathier and higher-pitched. Le Comte knew you must be close to a climax. He resumed a rapid motion on his shaft, eagerly awaiting that triumphant sound. He peered through the hole once more to see your back arching off the mattress, legs wrapped around Sebastian, mouth open in a silent pull of air, and then – your little shriek that almost made his dick jump out of his hand. Your following moan was all he needed to chase his own finish. He had a handkerchief ready and caught every drop as his chest shuddered with shaky breaths. 

The guilt was immediate. He felt dirty and despicable to his core. A sudden gloom overtook him as he splayed a palm out against the wall for support. The elegant mouth turned down in utter disgust at himself.

What was he doing?

You had trusted him. You looked up to him as a benefactor, as the respected master of the manor. As a friend. 

And this was how he repaid your trust?

Deplorable. Sickening. Unforgivable. Reprehensible. 

Self-hatred and self-pity overwhelmed him. He buttoned up his fly and stuffed the soiled handkerchief into a pocket.

He could hear the couple renewing their love-making as he silently moved out of the closet and into the dark room. Anguish pierced his chest. Shame soured his mind. He didn’t know how long he sat in that room, letting the sounds of bed springs and pleasurable grunts float over him, wishing for something that would never be.

[renee-writer]

Single Chapter 13

AO3

Things move fast after that.  With every legal paper, everything gathered for the trip, every second from the time Brianna heard the stones until the day they are ready to leave, her heart sings his name.

 

Kyle is efficient about getting the deed to Lallybroch and the incorporation papers for the bed and breakfast signed over to Elias. Glenda helps Claire gather what she will need for her and Brianna for the trip.

 

“I know a grand seamstress. She will make you and the lass dresses fit for the time period. I told her they were for a play.” She sits, bouncing a giggling Bree on her knees.

 

“I am going to miss you something fierce.” A teary eyed Claire says .

 

“Pish, you shall be far to busy to pay me any mind.”

 

“I will miss you, Elias, Kyle, and the good reverend.”

 

“We shall miss you too. Especially…”

 

Claire looks to her. She is preparing a list of medicines she wishes to take.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”

 

“But, you have .”

 

The older woman sighs. “Kyle, he holds a particular affection for you.”

 

She blinks rapidly. “Truly, I hadn’t …”

 

“Your heart is with her daddy, as it should be.” Brianna starts rubbing her eyes and fussing. Glenda starts rocking her. She settles against her with a sigh.

 

“Yes. I never meet too…”

 

“You must not let this bother you or blame yourself for it.”

 

“He is a sweet man. I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

 

“He kens that well enough.”

 

She pens a letter for him to find after they leave. To talk with him in person about it would be the height of insensitivity, or maybe she is just a coward.

 

The day arrives. Claire dresses her daughter in the dress Glenda arranged to be made. Then she dons her own. Glenda sweeps her hair up in a matronly bun.

 

“Why Claire, you are a vision.” Elias exclaims.

 

“Quite lovely,” Kyle agrees, “as are you Brianna.”

 

She loves dressing up and happily spins in a circle, letting her new dress flare around her. All the adults clap.

 

“Ready for the big bye-bye?” Her mama asks

 

She nods with her whole body. “Elias come?”

 

“Part way.” This trip is impossible to explain to her two and a half year old.

 

“Come, wee lass.” Elias lifts her up. Claire pats herself, making sure all the things she has hidden on her, are still there.

 

Money from the time, antibiotics, pictures of a younger Bree, all line hidden pockets. They were added by Glenda and Claire after the dress arrived.

 

The money that didn’t go into making Lallybroch a bed and breakfast, was changed over to coin. It will help them get to Lallybroch and then help the residents there.

 

“You are ready lass.”

 

“Yes. Very much so.”

 

They make the journey to the stones in relative silence. Only Bree speaks. She sings nursery rhymes to herself. Counts aloud. Sings the alphabet. They smile at her. Their nerves keep them silent.

 

Yes, she hears the stones. That means she can, most likely travel. Still… Until they come to, in the past, her mama worries.

 

The others will stay and make sure that someone is there in case she bounces back. Claire will immediately return if that happens.

 

When they reach the bottom of the monro, Claire lifts Bree out. She holds her while Elias places cotton in her ears.

 

“Why do that to Bree?” She asks.

 

“So she won’t be scared. It is alright sweetie.” She accepts his explanation. There is no reason to scare the child. Her mama to terrified for the both of them.

 

A tartan rope will bind them together.  They reach the top. Claire turns to the others.

 

“I don’t have the words to say how thankful I am to each of you.”

 

“Go, live a good life with your man, have lots of babies, let us see how well you are doing in history.” Glenda says, hugging them both.

 

“She is right. That is how you thank us.” Kyle says.

 

“I believe the gift of Lallybroch is sufficient.” Elias adds.

 

She hugs them all. The rope is placed around them, tying them together.

 

“Brianna, my love, this is when we say goodbye.”

 

“Bye-bye. See you later.”

 

“See you in the funny papers, Brianna Ellen.” Elias kisses her cheek.

 

“Be good for mama.” Kyle instructs.

 

“Be happy.” Glenda hugs them both again.

 

She blinks her tears away and carries her child over to the largest stone. With one final look back, she touches it.

[caitrionaebing]

when: Summer, 1977

where: Birmingham

who: Caitriona and @benjyxfenwick

Caitriona was nervous, an entirely unwelcome and still largely unfamiliar state of being for her. She’d put almost as much preparation into this day as she had her OWLs, except instead of revising her notes and reviewing her text books she’d been practicing converting muggle money in her head and memorizing the timetables for the train. It had been worth it, as she’d successfully purchased her ticket and boarded the appropriate train, but then she had over two hours sitting and staring out the window to worry about everything else. Her dress, which had seemed casual and youthful when she found it in a muggle shop in Galway, now felt fussy and matronly. Despite her best efforts, she kept coming back to the fear that her relationship with Benjy might not stand up to the light of day, that what worked so well in private would fall apart in public, even wrapped in the protection of anonymity. Worse still was the possibility that Caitriona’s ignorance of the muggle world would negatively affect Benjy’s opinion of her. What if he liked her best when she was capable and knowledgeable? What if he only liked her when she was confident and in control?

 The what-ifs haunted Caitriona all the way from London to Birmingham, but she refused to give into them. She was not going to cower on the train like a first year afraid to go to Hogwarts, but she did undo a few of the buttons near the bottom of her dress, which made her feel better in an odd way. It was enough for her to disembark with the rest of the passengers and it turned out that was all she needed. Almost as soon as Caitriona set foot on the platform she saw Benjy, and exactly as soon as she saw Benjy her worries were washed away in a wave of excitement. For a moment she stood very still, the instinct to pretend he didn’t mean the world to her taking over, but then she remembered that the entire point of this trip was putting aside the need for secrecy. With that Caitriona was moving, pushing through the crowd in an unladylike way that was incredibly freeing. By the time she reached Benjy she was very nearly running, with just enough momentum to jump into his arms. Wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, she kissed him like it had been months since she’d seen him, instead of mere weeks.

It wasn’t until some of the other travelers began whistling and clapping that she pulled away, breathless and pink cheeked and unwilling to disentangle herself entirely. “Hi.”

[bookcalanthedaily]

i think the person that really kinda tamed calanthe’s temperament and helped her mature a lot into that matronly tender woman she is in the books (albeit still quite explosive) was pavetta to be honest. she was delicate and fragile and small and calanthe’s temper and anger affected her a lot probably so she knew she had to dial it down for her baby. it wasn't until calanthe had pavetta that she learned what inside voice is fhfhfj

[lwiamatka-gone]

i think the person that really kinda tamed calanthe’s temperament and helped her mature a lot into that matronly tender woman she is in the books (albeit still quite explosive) was pavetta to be honest. she was delicate and fragile and small and calanthe’s temper and anger affected her a lot probably so she knew she had to dial it down for her baby. it wasn't until calanthe had pavetta that she learned what inside voice is fhfhfj

[tehuti88-art]

9/6/24: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's characters from my anthro WWII storyline are Major Titus Ellroy and Hilda (last name never given). They're from the 2002 character list but were never much developed, so I need to work on them. Ellroy is in the British Army and Hilda is a romantic interest for Battleship Gray Rat. There'll be more about them later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding their design, Ellroy is supposed to be a sort of big blustery but well-meaning type, thus the mustache; his fur is a bit longer and wavier too, similar to Mahogany's. Hilda is big and imposing, thus her rather menacing look. I drew her eye a bit weird so it bugs me, meh.

TUMBLR EDIT: As I mentioned, these two are referred to in the old character list, but beyond that--and an old, unfinished adult scene featuring Hilda--they were never actively developed. The rest of this entry will be different for both characters.

Here's the 2002 character list description for Hilda:

HILDA: Big-boned, "matronly" woman rescued by the Trench Rats before her city is bombed. Ends up residing in the refugee compound, but storms her way into HQ a lot--no one is brave enough to take her on. Short tempered, explosive, and verbally abusive, but also helps care for the Rats after the influenza strikes. Object of Battleship Gray's affection; he seems to have a thing for larger women. Current storyline

Holy...wait. I remember literally NONE of that except her physical description and that Battleship Gray (BG) has a thing for her, WTF is all the rest of this?? Hahaha. *cough* Okay...anyway. Going on what little I know of her...

Hilda appears in, to my knowledge, one piece of unfinished writing, an adult scene featuring her and BG. I shan't excerpt it because to the best of my memory it adds nothing to any understanding of either character aside from them both having a fetish for each other; Hilda is the stereotypical big, busty, domineering German country woman, and BG, who I've covered already (HERE), has a thing for such women, even if he despises Germans. I dunno, maybe him hating Germans just adds to the appeal. Anyway, that means that's all I really know of Hilda. She was apparently never meant to be much of an important character.

There WAS, at one point, intended to be a subplot involving a virulent strain of the flu--reminiscent of the not-long-previous Spanish flu that is such a major influence (no pun intended) on so many of the characters, such as Himmel and the von Dobermann family--that knocks down a good portion of the Rats for a while. Looks like Hilda was intended to play a role in this subplot. I don't know that this plot remains, so I can't really comment on how it might develop Hilda as a character. She could end up playing a more active role but as things currently stand, I don't have much for her, aside from her being a sort of mild comic relief. I can easily picture her being helpful in the medical ward, while also being a massive pain in the neck to Burgundy and Skye...though maybe she could get along with Indigo or Amaranth? Hmm... 🤔

In any event, that's all I have to share just now. I'm getting down to the bit characters and unnamed characters, so some of these entries might start getting shorter. MIGHT.

[Hilda 2024 [‎Friday, ‎September ‎6, ‎2024, ‏‎12:00:22 AM]]

[TUMBLR NOTE: Entry time edited to preserve entry order.]

[gluttons]

@fearsgod / plotted .

his footsteps echo in the silent, candle-lit hallways as he makes his rounds. the churchgrounds are silent, save for the errant call of a nightjar & the incessant buzz of crickets scattered throughout the shrubbery lining the grounds. such is his duty, after all, & he takes great care to keep up apperances, finding macabre humor in this entire charade. the very last stop is the cathedral, standing tall & dark amid the inky skyline. he pushes the double doors open with a soft-creak. surprisingly, it is not unoccupied. a solitary figure is bowed, an oddity amongst the stillness of the stone-slab pews. madre benedetta & her stern, matronly gaze, piercing as she governs the sanctity of the grounds. does she know, the infiltration of evil ? he imagines that sacriligeous cross would flip on itself upon his touch.

he affects a soft smile. she is lost. this poor, hapless soul, waiting for salvation. he may not be here for this purpose, but there is no harm indulging his fun at her expense. " child, " he speaks softly, facsimiled warmth. " do you seek guidance ? it is not proper to be wandering in the witching hour. "

[gaining-and-gaming]

Shadow was a lot of things, his reputation had made him to be larger than life itself. Vanilla had heard plenty about him but meeting him here and now had been something unexpected. The massive MILF was not someone to let a chance pass her by in her older years. As they held hands, she squeezed his hand back as pudgy hands linked together. She could feel his attempts of tenderness through it. She chuckled.

"I am wearing gloves you know~" She teased gently, making it clear he couldn't exactly feel how soft her touch was but still, the gesture he implied was sweet enough.

While she was not as large as he was, the bunny woman was quite obese and well-fed. There was no doubt there as her once generous curves had filled out vastly more even as her choice of attire remained as normal. Matronly and mature yet so much fatter than ever before, if Shadow may of seen her once or twice prior to this odd if informative meeting.

To his luck, Vanilla was clearly interested in him and thus was granting him a greater degree of patience than perhaps others might get.

"Why thank you, handsome~" She replied, smiling at him ever so tenderly and sweetly. "I'm looking forward to knowing you better then. I bet there is a lot such an ultimate young man of such.... grand perfection can share with a simply lady like me~"

She was appealing to his ego, sure but... it was clear it was to flatter him and indulge him in loving attention, it seemed!

"I'm hardly perfect, not anymore." Shadow said his face turning to a small smile as the motherly buns words filled his head. There was a strange familiar feeling with her words that wasn't unpleasant to the ultimate lifeform. "But still I'd love to get to know you, beautiful." Shadow said keeping his hand on Vanilla's while the two exchange compliments. Was this the first time he called someone beautiful? Probably but of all the people in the world to be the first to earn his earnest affection Vanilla was quite the first.

"Perhaps we could get to know one another over a meal? If not now than maybe sometime else?" He offered a low rumbling sound coming from his gut, a side effect of his recent transformation. He hardly needed to eat before getting big but now? He had quite the appetite fit for a hedgehog that still seemed to be growing.

[beesloosewithcanon]

Fictober2019

Thank you, @natsora for the prompt submission! 

If you’re interested in seeing a writing drabble from me for a specific f/f pairing, look at this post and let me know which you’d like to see! (I currently write in Dragon Age, Mass Effect, and Avatar Legend of Korra; I’d be open to also delve into the following fandoms – Avatar the Last Airbender, Overwatch, Stardew Valley, to name a few).

Prompt #18 – “Secrets? I love secrets.” 

Fanfiction – Dragon Age: Inquisition

Pairing – Leliana and F!Inquisitor

So - I took a little bit of liberty with this prompt and changed it to Leliana and a gender-neutral Inquisitor. Enjoy!

***

“Oh! Secrets?” Ravune sat excitedly in the chair across from Leliana’s desk and scooted it forward animatedly before placing eager elbows on the wood and placing their hands on either side of their face. “I love secrets!”

Leliana suppressed her own smile. The dalish Inquisitor that sat before her was like no other elf she’d ever worked with, but Lyna Mahariel, the gray warden she’d fallen in love with almost ten years ago now, had told her about dalish elves like Ravune. They were often seen as spiritual guides among their people, as they themselves existed in a state of being devoid of a specific gender, or encompassing of all genders at once. The warden had tried to explain that the dalish believed that there were more than two genders, but Lyna would always get distracted before she could finish explaining things, either by Leliana’s wandering hands and lips or encroaching danger. But she was always careful to include that all dalish clans were different. Where most dalish held these Tan Elgar’dar, or those of three or more spirits, in high regard, other clans shunned them and exiled them. 

Ravune had many qualities of this, Leilana had noticed. Their lithe body yielded no indication of their gender, nor did the clothing they chose to dawn each morning or the way they pulled their long hair back in a traditional braid each morning. And the inquisitor was the only person that Solas seemed to respect, but the respect seemed to go far beyond the simple fact that Ravune was also a mage. Solas was more patient with them and often would listen instead of lecture. Solas acted like this only with Ravune; all other members of the inquisition he was uninterested in and normally spoke over or actively dismissed. 

She would be lying to herself to try and say that being around Ravune didn’t make her miss Lyna terribly. Not because the young elf reminded her of her love, no. But because they reminded her of what she was missing out on as the two remained parted. Though they still kept in contact, watching the young Inquisitor who was barely an adult by both elven and human standards made Leliana wonder what her life would have been like had Lyna not had to worry about the calling. Would they have adopted a child? And would that child have acted like Ravune, always bubbly and mischievous, and only sad or quiet when they thought they were utterly alone? 

Leliana knew her job was to coordinate her agents and keep the information continuously flowing to the inquisition and the Inquisitor, but she had started making a habit of checking up on Ravune when they were unaware. Watching from a distance or from the shadows. Something about Ravune’s demeanor made her matronly instincts kick in. In her last letter to Lyna, she’d relayed how working with the young elf made her feel and she was eager to hear how Lyna would take it. They had talked of children before. Maker knew there were plenty of orphaned children in need of a home. But Thedas always seemed to have more pressing plans for them to attend to first. 

Leliana brought her leg up and sat on the desk, playfully looking down as Ravune’s eyes stayed on her like an excited nug pup. 

“I have it on good authority that it is Cole who is doing all of those odd things you mentioned to me last week.”

“Oh,” Ravune said, laughter in their tone. “I already knew that! That’s not much of a secret!”

“What? How did you find out before me?”

“Well, I asked Cole, didn’t I?” Ravune grinned. “It clicked when I heard the cook talk about seeing it and then not remembering it. It sounded like how Cole interacts with those he helps so I asked him.”

Leliana frowned. “And he told you?”

“He did!” Ravune sat back in the chair and placed either of their hands behind their head. “Cole’s good people. He and I get along great. And he’s just trying to help.”

“I take it you didn’t tell him to stop?”

“Why would I? He’s not hurting anyone. He’s making people laugh.” Ravune looked out the small window of Leliana’s study. “It’s something we all need now and again.”

Leliana’s frown deepened before she followed Ravune’s gaze. On the ledge of the small window perched some of her personal ravens who were using the stone of the window frame to crack nuts open. Ravune watched them with an intensity that didn’t match their previous demeanor and she turned back to look at them. 

“I suppose you’re right, Inquisitor.” Surveying the young elf’s face, Leliana saw it - the flash of something that wasn’t the boisterous facade that Ravune often exuded. Their eyes were distant and their smile had fallen. 

They have the weight of an entire world on their shoulders with the threat of Corypheus, Leliana reminded herself. Fun is something they need more of. 

“Well,” she cleared her throat. “If that isn’t a good enough secret, I have plenty of others.”

Ravune’s attention snapped back to Leliana’s, the mischevious grin back on their face. “Oh? Do tell!” 

Leliana let herself smile. Despite being the chosen of Andraste, this young elf - no… this young child needed to have fun every now an again. And she had just the story about Josephine and her own nugs that would have them in a fit of giggles. She’d be sure to apologize to Josie later. But for now, Ravune’s rapt attention needed to be satiated.