#silver age writing in modern settings

[cmncisspnandmore]

Brothers Best Friend: Keegan P Russ X F!Reader

Pairings: Keegan P Russ X Reader.

Warnings: Best friends brother, swearing, Fade to black, Age Gap

AN: Here is it, a little one shot of Keegan Russ. I will admit im not a fan of the world setting for Ghosts, so a lot of his fics will probably be set in modern day. But heres my first try at writing Keegan.

The house was mostly quiet, save for the wind blowing harshly against the windows. The glass rattled as you sat perched up on the kitchen island. Your half brother, Brandon, was 11 years older than you. He was a Marine, and spent a lot of time away from home. Oftentimes you were alone, having the house to yourself. You pulled the top off the cookies and cream ice cream container, and dug in with the spoon. The cold creamy treat coating your tongue, as you close your eyes savoring the flavors.

“Ice cream? It's midnight,” a deep voice rumbled, startling you from your sugary dessert. 

“Fucking hell, you scared me Keegan,” You grumble as you put the spoon back into the container. “And yes, it's the perfect midnight snack.” 

Keegan steps out of the doorway that leads to the basement, the light from above the stove illuminating him as. His black hair was messy and unkempt, but in a way that looked intentional. His icy blue eyes trailing over the container of ice cream in your hand. 4

“Care to share?” He asks, stepping closer to you, coming to stand between your spread thighs. His large hand grabbing the spoon from your fingers. He lifts the silver spoon to his lips, his pink tongue darting out to taste the sugary snack.

“I guess I have no choice,” you roll your eyes, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest.

Keegan was your brother's best friend, he served alongside him in the Marines. Currently Keegan was between deployments and your brother had offered him a place to stay, insisting that it was pointless for Keegan to find an apartment to rent when he was shipping out in a few months. 

“Brandon is asleep, he fell asleep like 10 minutes into the movie,” he sighs as he sticks the spoon back into the container.

“He’s lame like that, he used to insist on doing movie nights with me when I first moved in and within the first 10 minutes he would be snoring,”You roll your eyes, setting the container of ice cream down on the counter next to you.

Keegan doesn't move from his spot in front of you, his hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs. Even sitting on the counter, he was still taller than you, your eyes level with his chin. His blue eyes roaming over your face as he looked down at you. A small devilish smirk on your lips as you looked up at him. 

“Y/n…” Keegan warns.

“Keegan…” You whisper, as he leans down his face inches from yours.

“We shouldn't…” He whispers his breath fanning across your face as you tip your chin up slightly. 

“I’ve heard that before,” you whisper, your lips ghosting over his own.

“Last time was a mistake…. It shouldn’t have happened,” His voice strained, but he leaned in a little, each word causing his lips to brush over yours. 

“How could something so good be wrong?” You question, as your lips finally touch his. His lips are soft against yours and for a moment you're afraid he won't kiss you back. Maybe he really regretted the last time. But after a second his resolve seems to crumble as his hands grab your waist and he hauls you to the edge of the counter.

Your hands slide up his chest, your fingers fisting the front of his shirt as he groans softly. His tongue sweeping out to glide along your bottom lip, you grant him access. His tongue exploring your mouth, your tongue tangling with his. A soft moan slipping past your lips as his hands slide from your waist to tap your thighs. You wrap your legs around his hips as he slides his hands back up your thighs and under your ass. He lifts you off the counter, and supports you with his hands, as he kisses you roughly. 

“Shh sweet girl, you don't want your brother to hear you,” Keegan whispers against your lips as he walks up the stairs with you in his arms. He tosses you onto  your bed and crawls over you, his arms caging you in.

“You better be quiet, the last thing i want is for your brother to find me fucking his little sisters stupid. Can you stay quiet for me, Baby?” Keegan whispers in your ear as he nips at the shell of your ear. 

You manage a small nod but that doesnt satisfy Keegan, and he nips harshly at your neck. “Words pretty, I need your words,” He mumbles against your skin.

“Yes, fuck,” you gasp as his tongue licks a long stripe down your neck to the collar of your shirt. 

“Good girl.” 

[pursuitseternal]

Hi first of all, I wanted to tell you how much I love your fanfictions I'm always happy to see something new (ascended astarion and astarion spawn stories are my favourites but the others are captivating too). I was wondering if you could write a story where the original Tav dies and is reborn a few hundred years later and Astarion finds her again. Maybe in a more modern setting where the prudery thing isn't quite so… strong

I apologise for my bad English it's not my native language I hope you can understand it anyway

“Mistrial:” a Modern Faerûn AU

Astarion x Tav |E| 2.5K modern au

Ao3 link

Summary: Hundreds of years without her, Astarion still sits on the bench, Justice Ancunìn hear case after case. Until one day, that young prosecutor gets under his skin, until she confronts him after their trial, until ancient memories stir and things awaken.

A/N: Thank you to @myfavouritelunatic and @brabblesblog for their enabling and encouragement.

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“Justice Ancunìn, I have to object,” the little firecracker of a prosecutor ground her high heel into the tile of the courtroom.

Astarion shook his head, tired of her tone already on day one. “You don’t have to, counselor,” he rubbed two fingers against his silver-haired temple, “but given that this is already your twenty-second one today, I can’t say I’m surprised.” She looked at him with sharp eyes and folded arms. The little shit. He did not care for her already.

If this had been in the good old days when Faerûn was at its prime and most debauched, he could have her flogged for her tone and sent to cool in the stocks. And that would have been before he had been turned into vampiric spawn, before he had become hero of Baldur’s Gate with the love of his life at his side. Helping him learn how to hide his immortality and vampirism from the public, learning how to still serve as Magistrate despite his… condition.

That was until time moved on, and his immortality won over the lingering bonds of love. He missed Tav, her brilliance and ferocity, her pointed ears and sweet blood, her passion in life and in the bed.

Like the blink of an eye, he moved on. City to city, career to career as hundreds of years continued their slow grind of time. Until now, now, he stared down from his bench in BGC, new finagled magic in this modern age like cars and electricity and internet. But law was law, and a judge was a judge

It was as if he never left, aside from the new spitfire attorney, just arrived from New Waterdeep, with a ferocity he would have once admired.

He just now found it tiresome. Irritating. He realized after a moment, she had the decency to wait on his final word on her request for objection. He shifted in his seat, narrowing his eyes at her. “Overruled, Counselor Ylfe.” He banged his gavel twice. “In fact, court adjourned until tomorrow,” he stood grumbling to himself. “At least I’ll be spared a twenty-third objection in so many hours…”

His pointed ears picked up on a high pitched scoff. “We shall see,” that lawyer snipped to herself. But that tone, that defiance and jabbing quality… something piqued his interest.

Stirred his ancient memory.

He finally groaned as he rested in his chambers, only moments after shutting the doors and sliding off those scratchy robes. Gods, he missed silks and wigs and velvets. Not this cheap crap everyone wore. He went to his cabinet, taking out a discrete green bottle and pouring himself a mug of its swirling ruby contents. He popped it in his microwave, one improvement on the campfire he would not begrudge using.

Not when it made his stash of blood warm for once.

But even as it hummed, his mind kept rolling over his day. Especially that stubborn, annoying, irritating prosecutor with her defiant eyes and jutting out chin and crossed arms and swaying, perfect hips, and……

“Justice Ancunìn, I figured you would finally have a moment for us to address how to best proceed civilly in your own chambers,” his head shot up, his gaze narrowed as he watched her stride on into his offices.

Her.

“What in the hells are you thinking, Counselor Ylfe?” he spat, fighting hard from baring his fangs at her. A habit eroded from nearly a millennia of practice almost overturned just at the sight of her. “You know any discourse outside of the courtroom can result in a mistrial?”

“This isn’t about the trial, this is about your abject disdain for me, personally, it would seem.” She did it again, crossing her arms and swaying her hips in that tight little black pantsuit of her hers.

Astarion let his eye wander. There was something about her… not many females cut so fine a figure in trousers, or slacks or whatever the fuck they were now.

Not since… her. The other her in his life. His true love. That was the last time he even gave a woman a second glance.

Her hair hung over her shoulder, but now, up close, he could see two pointed ears peeking through her crown of long and flowing hair. Elf. High elf.

He locked eyes with her, that piercing shade… his mind raced and wandered… flying through ancient history for some, the warmest of memories for him. Emerald Grove, Shadow Cursed Lands, the real Baldur’s Gate…

“Didn’t you hear me, Your Honor?” she snapped at him.

Astarion shook his mess of silver locks, smiling in a way that no longer hid his fangs. “I’m afraid I was… lost in the sea of my long and winding memories… darling….”

That made her freeze solid. Her smooth face drew into an inscrutable expression, her cherry red lips parted… “What did you call me…?”

Only then did he realize the slip of his own tongue, how that pet name he vowed never to use flowed right off of it. “D-darling.” He repeated, as shocked as she was at the impropriety. “I’m sorry, Ms. Ylfe.”

“Don’t be,” she instantly replied with a shake of her head. Then she smiled, even as her brows furrowed. She looked at him, at his pale face and silver hair and… dark brown eyes…. “Have you always worn contacts, Mr. Ancunìn?”

“How…” but before he could interrogate that true suspicion, his microwave dinged.

“You better get your drink, Your Honor…” That lilt in her voice was new, he noted.

“I’ll wait,” he shrugged. “I can always reheat it later. First I’ll have to apologize for my… behavior today.”

“I should hope so,” she grinned, walking around and sitting on the edge of his desk. “Treating a lady with such disdain… only to about face and call her darling the next moment… seems something only a true, black-hearted rogue would do…”

“What?” he went rigid. Bending forward, that old instinct to fight or fly racing through his nerves after centuries.

“I’ve never been a fan of contacts,” she smiled so easily as she leaned back against the top of his desk, fingers splayed on his files and papers. “Better if you just showed the world your natural eyes, Mr. Ancunìn….”

His nostrils flared, his breath racing and head swimming. But this time there was no fucking tadpole, he knew that.

“What’s your name…” he hissed, narrowed eyes leveling at her.

“I can tell you, unless you’re bent on letting your stash of blood from getting cold…. Astarion.”

His hand flew to her neck, bringing her up into his face, fangs bared, hackles raised, every long suppressed vampiric sense firing on all cylinders now as he smelled her. “Name,” he commanded.

“Taveria Ylfe,” she swallowed under his hold. “But those close to me have always called me Tav….”

“Tav,” her name was a gasp in his throat.

“And I know you,” she said, breathy and quick. “I didn’t know how… but there was something about you that made me… unsettled.”

“Twenty-two objections later and you call yourself… unsettled?” he smirked, lightening his hold, but stroking his fingers on her skin.

Her skin.

“Well, darling,” she purred, "lifetimes of perfect memory for our kind, and I should have recognized my lover with the crimson eyes and pointed fangs.”

Astarion shook his head, swallowing the rising ball of emotion that caught in his throat. “I’d cry, but it’ll make my contacts hurt,” he gave a wet laugh. His thumb traced on the side of her neck, two circle marks in her flesh, like moles or scars…

“You found them, the brands I’ve have on my flesh ever since you, Astarion,” she added, eyes batting shut under his touch. “I’ve looked for you in every lifetime, my true love with roguish swagger, red eyes, pointed fangs, and massive…”

She paused, pursing her lips.

“Ego?” he offered as an answer, but she shook her head.

“Cock,” she grinned as she bit her lip.

“I was hoping you’d say that… darling…” He hissed as her hand grasped at the gusset between his legs. “Looking for your evidence?” he growled, a roll of his hips into the pressure of her touch. So ancient and familiar. “You’ll get it, darling, if you want it…”

“I do, Astarion,” she sighed, fingers stroking back and forth on the cotton of his pants, feeling that rising erection instantly straining back.

A monsterous growl in his throat, a burning hunger in his belly, he grasped at the back of her neck, pulling her against his lips.

The age-old dance, the same taste. Closing his eyes, his body transported a millennia ago… as if he could smell blood and woodsmoke and magic in the air mixed with her scent. Had he suppressed so much of his senses he couldn’t recognize her scent? Had he ignored the same beat of her heart in her chest, same musical rush of blood in her veins?

He shook his head to let all that go, realizing her hands already tore through her own blazer and button down, clothing now cast to the floor. Already, she had shimmied off the desk, pressing harder into his kiss. He waited for no further invitation, hands instantly sliding her slacks from her perfect curves, his own clothing suddenly feeling too tight and too abrasive.

Astarion only wanted her skin on him now. After so long. He couldn’t move fast enough, his reflexes had dulled from neglect, his dexterity a fraction of what it once was with her. But it, too, slowly crept back, his hands making quick work of his own clothes.

Suddenly, those fingers remembered the smoothness of her skin, rekindled their dexterity. His hand clawed into her hair, the other stroked down her belly, backing her perfect body to perch on the edge of his desk. The gasp he drew from her lips as he sank two fingers into her folds woke something feral in him, something ancient. Vampiric.

“Tav,” he hissed, nuzzing against the music of her artery, rubbing along the stream of her blood in her neck. “May I, please…”

“Mmm, I want to see your real eyes before you take anything of mine, Astarion,” she purred, arching against him. One hand splayed on the desk behind her, she smirked and watched. Never had anyone removed contacts so quickly, so dexterously.

As he blinked, her heart poured open. That scarlet glare, that tilted head, those mussy silver curls. “I can’t believe it’s you…” she sighed.

His eyes went wide, shining in his unshed tears and well of emotion. “I’m so tired of words, Tav,” he replied, voice cracking with that exhaustion and unbridled desire now. “Just give me all of you, to lose myself in, to lose these long and draining years in, years without you.”

Not another word as said, nothing but the groans of their joining once more, the shudder of their bodies as they fucked, the creaking of the wood beneath her as he slammed his hips against it. Cock buried deep in her cunt, fangs digging into her neck.

Both parts of her were hot and leaking. Blood spilled from his mouth once more—warm and fresh and sweetened with her taste. Arousal leaked into the wood beneath them, her musk and sweat the only perfume he longed to smell.

He swirled his tongue over his bite marks, fresh bleeding wounds that swallowed those scars she was born with. A lasting brand on her skin as she had forever been on his heart, his soul.

He couldn’t bring her close enough to him, fingers clawed into her ass to keep her from sliding away with his frantic thrusts. And she had already wrapped herself around his waist, already scratched up the places of his back that weren’t riddled with scars still. Clutching him tightly to never lose him again.

Their lips were sealed together, locked as they sucked and moved and danced in their ancient kiss, the taste of her blood sending them both reeling into oblivion. She keened as her walls spasmed around his cock, that familiar ripple and beat of her climax pressing against his every wild and erratic thrust.

His forehead resting against her shoulder, the scent of her blood there was the last little push he needed, losing himself in the trembling warmth and comfort and pull of her body. His cock pulsed hard inside her, thrumming against her muscles as he came harder than anything for a thousand years. Forcing his head back up, he locked eyes with her, face twisting and arms shaking as he came. Lips pulled back to show those glistening and reddened fangs.

Her hand braced hard at the back of his neck, keeping her with him as his hips thrust, slowing as he emptied into her. At last he stilled, a foolish, young smile on his gaping lips, lips he licked clean.

He would tell her sometime, how she had made his undead heart remember how to beat and love again twice now. How she brought him back to life over and over again. But with that haze in her eyes, the way she clenched still around his cock, he knew this wouldn’t be the end of their reunion.

Thank the gods.

Lips curling as she met her mouth in a kiss, she drew him in again for more. “I have a hotel…” she whispered.

“And I have a penthouse, darling,” came his instant reply between her ravenous caresses.

“Hmm,” she laughed deep in her throat, their kiss still working slowly, unable to break apart once more. “As long as you keep it cleaner than your tent once was, I accept. Someplace for us until the morning when we return to court…”

His fingers, coated in the scent of her arousal, stayed her mouth. “Tch, surely even a young thing like you knows this will end in mistrial now,” he smirked. “Not even I can think of a clause that allows for lost soul mates to continue in court after such…” he glanced at the mess between their legs, “…debauchery.”

“Oh well,” she feigned disappointment, sliding off to retrieve her clothes. “Worth it…”

Suddenly his arms gripped her, pulling her by the swell of her ass, flush against his naked body one more time. “It’ll be days before either of us must return to court… long, exhausting, pleasure-filled days, darling.”

Tav dove up for his kiss, standing in her tiptoes to meet that smirk that haunted her for centuries. “You better hurry me away to your place, Astarion, or someone will find us here making up for lost time.”

Reluctantly and with a deafening sigh, he relented, busying himself to dress again.

“Oh,” she commented, that taunting tone in her voice, “and don’t think I missed how you never answered it your place was still a mess of chaos again.”

He turned, shaking his head as he refastened his belt. “Well, even if you are disappointed in that regard, I can assure you…” he gave her that look, those half-lidded eyes, that sharpened fanged smirk, “you won’t be left wanting in other regards.”

[imperiuswrecked]

Here lies Namor. Invader. Avenger. International Terrorist. - Namor (2024) #1

I am Namor. The Terrorist Propaganda says I have issues. Don't trust the Terrorist Propaganda. - Bucky Barnes: Winter Solider (2014) #1

You know what annoys me about Aaron's writing, where is Defender? Namor is part of and actually is the instigator in creating Marvel's The Defenders, the first trio called Titians Three consisted of him recruiting Hulk & Silver Surfer to aid him in stopping humans from hurting the Natural World in The Sub-Mariner (1968) #34. This would later spin out into Doctor Strange recruiting Namor, Silver Surfer, Hulk, and later joining them Valkyrie for the main and first wave of The Defenders. A team made up of outsiders who defended the world from supernatural threats. Namor is literally a founding member of (in my very strong opinion) the best modern team he's ever been on.

Yes, he's Namor the Avenging Son, but he was only ever called Terrorist by his enemies. Namor wouldn't think of himself in that way, he'd call himself a Defender, a Protector of his people, of the seas, his home. If Aaron means Invader as in he was part of the Invaders team then that also is a defense because he and the Invaders were fighting in WWll.

Namor knows the humans see him as a threat and for the most part he doesn't care if they label him as a monster because he's always had this strong belief of defending his home and people, he worked past his hatred of humans to help them all the way back in the golden age, but time and time again the humans do something that he has to respond to.

If you ask me for 2 panels to understand Namor in a nutshell then it would have to be;

The Defenders (1972) #53

Sub-Mariner (2007) #4

He's actually so easy to understand if people actually took the time to read his freaking comics. He's complex yeah, but that's what makes him so interesting as the first comic Anti-Hero!

Aaron focusing on Namor's outsider status isn't something new, it's been explored in his comics a lot of times. What really frustrated me was back in Avengers (2018) #9 Aaron had the chance to set up Namor to combat Captain America in terms of ideology of what is right and wrong, how is the defense of his homeland wrong? how is resistance against oil drillers, and poachers, and corporate greed, and polluters, and giant space robots falling and crushing his city and people wrong???

Human Laws have always been in favor of Humans, not the Atlanteans, not the Sea. Instead of exploring the concept of Namor being a Defender of his home and his people, Aaron constantly labels Namor a Terrorist. The he makes Namor want to atone for the wrongs he's done (never specifying exactly which ones, just a general "crimes against surface humanity") while never addressing or exploring the wrongs done to him by the humans/surface world!

Even now Aaron sets up Namor for conflict under the sea, and states it's for the best interest of the human world that their shipping lines and cruises be uninterrupted by the "shrieking blue skinned warriors who've invaded their coasts". Basically it's "We humans don't care if the Atlanteans are suffering so long as they suffer in silence and don't bother us or disrupt our money & lives".

Aaron writes in Avengers that Captain America offered aid to help the Atlanteans, but it's Namor who's rejected it, why would he accept help from the people who constantly hurt his people? Why would Namor ever trust them when they've broken his trust so many times in the past? Humans make promises and then break them all the time. Why should Namor ever accept the crumbs they deign to give him in return for obedience and silence so the humans can keep doing whatever they think is right? Why is the Surface World more moral and more right than the Undersea World? It's Namor's land, it's his home, they broke his laws, they broke his home, his people, his seas.

I've always said the biggest obstacle and mistake writers often encounter when writing Namor is they come at him from a very surface world mindset, where the humans are right and Namor isn't. Namor was never meant to be a champion of humans, but of the Atlanteans, the Seas, and all it's creatures.

I could not care less that you are breaking the Laws of Man. What you do here violates the Law of Namor. And thus you shall now endure Namor's Justice. - Defenders (2012) #1

Namor being seen as a Invader/Terrorist began back with his first fight against The Human Torch in Marvel Mystery Comics (1939) #8, Jim was championed as the Hero of Humanity, while Namor was labeled as Public Enemy No. 1. and even now 85+ years later Namor faces persecution for doing what he was raised to do all his life, be a king, be a protector of his people, take justice and vengeance for the wrongs done against his home and people.

Aaron wants to focus on Namor's outsider status of being born half human/half atlantean. He's already shown Namor being bullied and nearly killed as a child for being born different by his people, but that isn't anything new, that's been canon that Namor is an outsider among humans and atlanteans, it's canon that the Atlanteans are just as racist as the humans, but often they're framed as worse than the humans.

One comic reviewer questioned if Aaron is making statements about the current political climate but honestly anyone who reads Namor comics can see these themes, the tensions among atlanteans and humans, have always been there. What remains to be seen is if Aaron can actually deliver on some good writing.

[towriteloveontheirarms]

I want to speak to your manager (modern!Criston Cole x reader)

synopsis: On a late-night adventure to McDonalds the fries you are given are cold. Deciding to stand up for yourself you ask the kid at the counter for the manager. Who would have thought that what you get is so much more than just some fresh, hot fries?

warnings: age gap (reader is in her early twenties), smut, making out, oral sex (m receiving), p in v, afab reader

word count: 2.4k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bucknastysbabe

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: Thank you @bucknastysbabe for this cursed idea💜 it was so fun to write this and expand the alternative universe of fast food restaurants that you have lowkey created now lmao and also the other fics that are soon to come

Dividers by me

Writing your bachelor thesis had to be the worst experience of your life. And the worst part about it was, that it was a hell of your own making. At first you had struggled to find a topic to write about and when you finally did, your procrastination set in hard. Cursing yourself for all of it, you close and push away the laptop in front of you, rubbing a hand over your face. Attempting to calm down by taking a few deep breaths, you get interrupted by a loud and quite frankly painful rumbling deep in your stomach, reminding you of the fact that you had skipped every meal since breakfast and one look at the clock revealed that it was currently the middle of the night. Great, you think to yourself. Grabbing your keys, phone and wallet you make your way down to the car to drive to the next spot that was still open. McDonalds. Waiting in line you ignore the cashier bickering with a customer about their order by finding something to eat. Despite the grumbling in your stomach nothing really calls to you, except for the fries. So, when you get called up to order a portion of fries and a milkshake will have to do. Sitting down in one of the seats in the back, you take a few fries into your hand and dunk them into the vanilla milkshake. They feel quite cold already, but when you bite down on them it's not only the cold of the milkshake that fills your mouth. Perfect. Just perfect.

For a moment you ponder just accepting your fate, but then decide to stick up for yourself. You deserved some fresh fries. You deserved some warm food when you ordered it. Though you still felt sorry for the kid you are about to ask for the manager. If there was something you hated, it was the possibility of being seen as a Karen. Ugh, alright. For the sake of some hot fries, you motivate yourself to get up and walk up to the counter again.

“What can I do for you?” The kid with long silver hair asks in a flat, but still polite tone.

“Hey, um I´m really sorry to do this, but um the fries your coworker just gave me are ice cold. Would it be possible to let me speak to your manager, please?” You grace the blond with an apologetic smile, though both of you are aware it doesn't do anything to change your request.

"Yeah, sure. If you wait here for a moment, I'll go get him." The blond turns to get his manager.

"Thank you. I'm sorry." You smile apologetically again.

You aren't sure how long it takes or how long it is supposed to take until the person you asked for gets to the front, but the waiting makes your foot tap and your palms sweat. When the tall, tan man steps around the corner however, your entire bodies movement stops at once.

Your lips part slightly, and you are sure to hear a quiet, high pitched “Hoo” fall from them. Embarrassed by the sound that just left you, you pull your lower lip between your teeth.

“I´m the manger, Criston Cole. What can I help you with?” There is faint, but very captivating dornish accent swinging in his formal voice. "I-I..." You stumble over your words at the gorgeous dark eyes and the handsome stubble looking back at you. "Well, I really hate to be this person, but I just came in and the fries one of your employees gave me was almost freezing cold." "I am so sorry, I pride myself on having employees that are competent enough to not have this happen. Let me get you a new portion right away.” Cole promised, his dark eyebrows pulled together tightly in thought of who he might need to talk to.

“Thank you so much. And I am sorry I interrupted your day with this matter. You sure have more important things to do.” Your cheeks begin burning as you apologise to him as well.

"Oh, no. There is no reason to apologise. If anything, it helped to make any future experiences here more pleasant." He narrows his eyes at the short haired blond that initially served you. Letting him know he was in trouble though it was met with a cocky smile and an air of indifference. "Can I do anything else for you?"

You don´t know what happens when he asks this, but suddenly there courses only adrenaline and desire through your system. The almost pitch-black eyes that look back at you have you in a trance. The equally dark curls enticing you to run your fingers through them.

Without thinking about it too much, you all but blurt out. “When do you get off?”

Criston´s eyes widen for a second. When the surprise has ebbed away however, he eyes you up and down.

“In about an hour. I´m parked directly by the back entrance, meet me by my car then.” His dark eyes roam over your body once before he gives you a wink and disappears back into his office.

Woken up from the trance his eyes had you in, you stand there for a moment longer, perplexed as to what just happened. When the realization does sink in, a happy little grin spreads on your lips. Bitten back by the lower lip between the teeth to not make you look like an entire idiot. Sitting back down in the corner, you eat your fresh fries and kill the rest of the time by scrolling through your phone.

You don´t have to wait outside for long. Only a few minutes after you reach the car, the bac entrance door opens to reveal the man you were waiting for. Criston opens the passenger side door of the vehicle for you and then takes his place in the driver’s seat.

Immediately his large, warm hand cups your cheek to pull you closer, his lips locking with yours. The hungrily crushing together body parts make your breath hitch and closed eyes flutter. The silk of his shirt feels smooth underneath your own finger pads, which crumple it the moment Criston begins mouthing at your neck. Sucking at the skin to leave his marks and arouse you further. The hand that is not on your cheek to move your head around as he pleases, comes up from your hips to toy with your breasts until it heaved from panting breathes. He connected his lips to yours again, the hand from your cheek now laying in the back of your neck, squeezing it ever so lightly sending a shock of electricity down your spine. You moan into the kiss. A breathy sound of absolute perfection that makes his already hard cock twitch in the uncomfortably tight pants. His tongue then licks over your lower lip to silently ask for entrance, being granted it straightforwardly. Your lips open for your tongue to come out and play with his. The two muscles dancing together and exploring the others mouth, while one of your hands lays on the bulge between dark haired man's legs. Almost instantly he begins to rub against the palm in search of friction. This time it is him who groans into the caress of tongues.

The sound urges you on, to fiddle with the belt and button of the pants, until finally you can pull them down just enough to free his cock from its tight confines. Pulling away from his hungry lips, you sit a bit further back on the car seat, to bend forward more comfortably. The hand that Criston previously had rutted himself against now took the base of it as your lips placed little pecks and kitten licks to the already with pre cum beaded tip. As you do so the hair that frames your face falls forward like a curtain. Just as it falls it is pulled back by his hand threading into it, giving it a light tug in the process, just as you wrap your lips around his length, taking it in until your lips almost reached the fingers at his base. The action coaxes a moan from you, which in turn heightened his pleasure as it vibrates through him. Concentrating on breathing through your nose and accommodate his size in your throat, you begin to bob your head up and down in a steady rhythm.

“Shit, your mouth feels so great around my cock.” Criston rasps above you.

Letting him guide your head, you relax your jaw a little further and lick up the vein on the underside of his dick. Wet slurping and light gagging sounds fill the vehicle as you hollow out your cheeks to suck on the sensitive tip.

“You´re so eager… fuck… I don´t think I´m gonna last long if you continue like this.” He growls and whines.

The sounds go straight to your core, to leave you craving for more. You communicate as much by whining around his length. It is the most desperate sound he has ever heard. The dornish man's cock twitches in your hold and to your surprise you get pulled off it only seconds after. Looking up, you see his head had fallen back to rest against the seat. His hair is mussed by his own hand running through it repeatedly in the heat of the moment and somehow the affected state, the way his chest heaves, makes him look even better than before.

“I want to feel you inside of me. Now.” You beg him in the sweetest tones he had ever heard.

“Yeah? Are you that desperate? You need my cock that bad?” The questions escape him with the cockiest and simultaneously sexiest smirk you have ever seen in your life.

“Fuck, yeah. I need your cock so badly.” You plead while mouthing at his neck.

“Well, if you´re asking so nicely, how could I say no to that.”  Criston puts his seat back to make more space for the two of you and then pulls you onto his lap by the hips.

There is no patience left between you two. The air is thick with your mutual need for release and filled with the light scent of sweat and the promise of what´s to come. In the blink of an eye your panties are ripped off and Criston sinks himself into you.

“Oh seven… You´re tight.” He gasps, letting his head fall back against the seat’s headrest once more.

“Shit, you´re stretching me out so well. So big.” You whine back.

You set an almost painfully slow pace when you begin to bounce on his lap, until you get used to his size. The whimpers from your lungs getting muffled by the hollow of his neck.

When the pain in your core subsides, your hips automatically begin to rock against his harder and faster, which he takes as a sign to meet your thrusts. If there was any reason to doubt how good of an idea this was before, it is all gone now. Criston hits a point inside of you that no one has ever reached before, making your eyes roll back and your moans to become hoarse as you bury your face in his neck. The sensations of him bullying your sweet spot become overwhelming fast. Your legs tremble at his sides and the movement of your hips falters fast as he steadily drives you towards the sweet relief of orgasming. The only way you can keep up the rhythm of meeting Criston´s thrusts is by the help of one of his hands supporting your backside and using the chance to massage your ass cheeks.

With some strength you can lift your head again, looking at him through hazy eyes and tightly knit eyebrows. Both of your mouths hang open to make way for heavy breaths and the sounds of the pleasure you each give and receive.

When you look up at him it is like two magnets are pulling you two together by the lips. In that moment the two of you are made purely of electricity. Pushing, pulling and nibbling on the other´s lips, every kiss breathes life into you that is robbed by every new thrust into your burning core.

“Don´t stop. ´m so fucking close. Gods… so good.” You babble helplessly through the fog that clouds your brain.

“If there is a heaven I´m buried in it right now.” His words make your eyelids and inner walls flutter. “Fuck, I can feel you´re close.”

“Yes, yes. So close.” The words that leave your mouth don´t even register in your brain anymore. All you can feel is the fire burning through your body. Screaming for sweet release.

“Come for me then. Soak my cock with your juices.” Criston growls near your ear and as if they aren´t enough he takes your earlobe between his teeth to nibble on the sensitive skin.

One last time your inner walls flutter around his dick, before you do as he commands. Arching your back until your breasts press against his chest and sinking your nails into his shoulders, dragging them down to leave red streaks under the silk shirt, you let the pleasure wash over you. Trembling and shaking uncontrollably.

In the last moments of clenching around his length, you bring Criston to his own peak. Milking him for everything he´s worth, until his seed flows back out of you while you ride out your orgasm.

Underneath you Criston leans his head back to fully expose his neck, eyes squeezed shut tight and whining at the sensitivity. When both your bodies allow you to rest again, you lay against his chest for a moment, before your legs carry you onto the passenger seat. Even though they are still trembling. Looking into the mirror you do your best to wipe the sweat from your forehead and fix your hair. As you do so, you struggle to find the right words for the situation.

“That was…” You try to speak but cut yourself off with a deep breath.

“Yeah.” Criston agrees.

“So, uh…” You still wrestle with your mind for words as it slowly comes back to reality, while pulling down your dress to hide the fact that your panties fell victim to your shared passion.

“I´d like to see you again.” Criston offers after tucking away his now soft length.

“Really?” Surprise flits over your face for barely a second. “Yes, I´d like that too. Very much.”

“Great, why don´t you give me your number and I´ll give you a call some time?” The dark-haired man implored, holding out his phone for you to type in your number.

With idle fingers you take the device to do just that. Before you get out to go back to your own car, you grace his cheek with one last chaste peck.

“Call me.”

[the-moral-of-the-rose]

If anybody wanted to write a crossover between L.M. Montgomery's books, here is a little help with the ages of the characters (@no-where-near-hero maybe it will be a tiny help for your fanfic):

Anne Shirley - born on 5th of March 1865

Gilbert Blythe - born in 1862 or 1863

James Matthew "Jem" Blythe - born in July 1893

Walter Cuthbert Blythe - born in 1894

Anne "Nan" and Diana "Di" Blythe - born in 1896

Shirley Blythe - born in 1888*

Bertha Marilla "Rilla" Blythe - born in 1900*

Gerald "Jerry" Meredith - born 1894

Faith Meredith - born 1895

Una Meredith - born 1896

Thomas Carlyle "Carl" Meredith - born 1897

Jims Anderson - born in August of 1914

Emily Byrd Starr - born on 19th of May 1888

Ilse Burnley - born in 1888 (probably)

Perry Miller - born in 1887

Frederick "Teddy" Kent - 1887 or 1888

Dean Priest - born in 1865

Patricia "Pat" Gardiner - born in 1913

Rachel "Rue" Gardiner - born in 1919

Winnifred "Winnie" Gardiner - born in 1910

Sidney "Sid" Gardiner - born in 1912

Joseph"Joe" Gardiner - born in 1908

Hilary Gordon - born in 1911

Elizabeth "Bets" Wilcox - born in 1913

David Kirk - born around 1893

Jane Stuart - born in May 1918 or 1919

Valancy Stirling* - born 1883**

Barney Snaith - born 1877**

Cecilia "Cissy" - born 1886**

Olive Stirling - born 1884**

Gay Penhallow - born in 1904***

Nan Penhallow - born in 1904***

Roger Dark - born in 1890***

Donna Dark - born between 1894 and 1896***

Virginia Powell - born between 1894 and 1896***

Peter Penhallow - born between 1888 and 1890***

Margaret Penhallow - born 1872***

Brian Dark - born 1916***

Hugh Dark - born in 1887***

Joscelyn Penhallow: born between 1889-1892***

*In both Anne of Ingleside and Rainbow Valley Shirley is two years older than Rilla. But in Rilla of Ingleside, he turns eighteen few months before Rilla... it is pure chaos. Rilla was supposed to be nearly fourteen, according to the RV, in 1914, but she is nearly fifteen in RoI. So I apologize, but I had a lot of trouble here...

**The Blue Castle is the most difficult to place in time. It is set several years before it was published, and in my own opinion: before Tangled Web and Pat of Silver Bush. Why? Because of this reference: "This was before the day of bobs and was regarded as a wild, unheard-of proceeding—unless you had typhoid." (The Blue Castle). Bobs were already "in fashion" at the beginning of Pat of Silver Bush (so, in 1919, when Pat was six years old: it was said that Winnie wanted to have her hair bobbed) and in Tangled Web (which is set in 1922). Yet, the cars, motorboats and movie theaters were a rather common occurence in The Blue Castle's times. But... there might be an explanation. Valancy doesn't live on PEI, which might have been a little "behind" the rest of Canada, as far as modern technology went. It is my own personal opinion, but I think that it might be set just before the war, at the same time as the end Emily's Quest. I know that the clothes seem more "modern" in TBC, but Emily wore "a little sport suit" and dress that was described as followed "there was so little of it". Teddy and Perry both had cars, as sone of Ilse's cousins. I would say that the Blue Castle book might be set around 1912-1913. Still, the timeline is extremely elusive. Please, let me know, dear Blue Castle Book Club's members, what is your opinion? I think I have read some amazing discussion about TBC's timeline a long time ago, but if I remember correctly, everyone was certain that this novel was set post WWI (me included, until this very moment when I tried to place Pat and Tangled Web and remembered the "bob" quote). So I choose 1912 as the beginning of TBC, when Valancy was twenty-nine.

*** the ages of characters in Tangled Web:

"They were first cousins, who were born the same day and married the same day,--Donna to her own second cousin, Barry Dark, and Virginia to Edmond Powell--two weeks before they had left for Valcartier. Edmond Powell had died of pneumonia in the training camp, but Barry Dark had his crowded hour of glorious life somewhere in France." (Tangled Web).

"Virginia Powell, whose husband had been dead eight years and who was young and tolerably beautiful" (Tangled Web).

"Valcartier, Quebec was the primary training base for the First Canadian Contingent in 1914."

- from: https://www.warmuseum.ca/firstworldwar/history/going-to-war/canada-enters-the-war/training-at-valcartier/

So, from this I assumed that Virginia's husband died in 1914 (so Tangled Web is set in 1922-23). Gay is 18 at the beginning, so she would be born in 1904. If Donna and Virginia were 18-20 when they got married, they would be 26-28 (so still "young"). at the beginning. Peter was 14 when Donna was 8, so he'd be 32-34 at the beginning of the book (same age or a bit older than Roger). Hugh was 35 at the beginning. I guess Joscelyn was a bit younger- most of LMM's heroines are at least two years younger than their love interest. I'd say she might have been 20-23 when she got married, so she'd be around 30-33 at the beginning of the book. I would say Brian is about six years old - he doesn't seem to attend school yet, but is big enough to be sent to the harbour. Margaret Penhallow was about fifty at the beginning of the book.

So sorry that this post was rather long, but it was a great fun to write (even if it took me A LOT of time). Thank you for reading. Please, let me know if you agree. Any feedback will be very welcome!

[unicorncornflakes]

Dark Desire - Modern AU! | Chapter 16

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (Coming soon)

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Summary: Aemond doesn't know how he feels every time he sees you. Neither do you when you look at him. Your father Aegon has always been absent from your upbringing ever since he divorced your mother. That role has been filled by Aemond until last summer, when everything changed.

Tags:  Alternate Universe – Modern/ Setting Emotional Hurt/ Comfort/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: This fic includes  manipulation, violence, death, and inc3st, at some points. Reader has purple eyes and her mother is from Dayne House, the rest is complete free :D

Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know):  @thedamewithabook @afro-hispwriter @chainsawsangel @thetrueblackheart @atherverybest @itsabby15 @boundlessfantasy @partypoison00 @glame @tempo-rary-fix @tssf-imagines @aaaaaamond @imaloserbby @youngcomputerpuppy @aemondsfavouritebastard @cloudroomblog @queenofshinigamis @bluevxnus @wooya1224 @serving-targaryen-realness @darkenchantress @padfooteyes @mariannnavao @moonlightfoxx @jennifer0305 @ammo23 @iloveallmyboys @tempt-ress @bellameshipper @okfashionista @shelbyteller @dahlias-and-marigolds @the-knights-of-ne @bellaisasleep @watercolorskyy

Author´s note:  Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 5K

Acknowledgment: To @ammo23 for the brilliant corrections and the wonderull work as beta reader, for all the amazing rewiews, comments and refletions, for all the patience and the love that always shows for my writing. Thank you so much for all the time that you spend with this. Thank you so much for everything. :D

Someone made a joke again in High Valyrian, and everyone at that table laughed. Everyone except you.

The truth is that what was so characteristic of the Targaryen’s, to speal in their mother tongue, was something that you had not even dreamed of. Your mother had tried to take you to school when you were just a little girl to please your father's family, but she had stopped when she got mad at your father again over some stupid custody term. You had only heard High Valyrian occasionally from your uncle's lips during the summers. But, you had yet to learn. It was just another of the many things that separated you from that part of your family. Yet at that moment, at that table, where you were having dinner with some of your uncle's college friends, all silver and blond heads and sunset eyes, you couldn't feel more out of place.

You had arrived at Sunspear that same afternoon, and after simply leaving your suitcase in what was to be your supposed room and taking a shower, Aemond had asked you to go down to dinner with some of his friends that he only saw at that conference. You had put on a short, tight dress, heels that made you look much taller, and you had painted your lips with Aemond's lipstick. Almost like a trophy that your uncle had claimed and obtained, you walked out of the room. Aemond smiled an approving, arrogant, proud smile and placed his hand on the small of your back as he led you into the hotel's dining room.

Clement Celtigar commented in High Valyrian, and your uncle and Alyn Velaryon laughed, the latter slamming the table hard and causing his wife, sitting right next to him, to narrow her eyes. You sipped shyly from your glass. The Targaryen necklace dangling from your neck, and yet everyone sitting at that table had more Valyrian blood running through their veins than you ever would. You weren't a Targaryen, even though Aemond insisted on calling you his ‘little dragon’.

Celtigar's wife, a stunning woman with long hair, full lips, and rosy cheeks, asked you something in High Valyrian. She had a sincere smile, but in her eyes, you saw something akin to sly, suggestive amusement. Alyn Velarion's wife smiled as well. Both were waiting for your answer. They were both, like their husbands, of a similar age to your uncle. You couldn't be more out of place at that dinner. Your uncle leaned back in his chair, putting his arm around the back of yours, almost expecting you to answer what they had asked you. You bit your lip and looked nervously at your uncle to quickly lower your gaze back to the plate that had your food.

"Sorry, I don't speak High Valyrian," you whispered, Aemond remained impassive. You could see the disappointment in him, almost as if he had expected you to speak it because of the simple fact of your last name. You saw how Celtigar's wife looked at Alyn's with a smirk, and Clement raised the glass to his lips, amused.

"Well, don't worry, our children have a hard time learning too. They are about your age," BeatrithCeltigar commented as she looked at her husband, almost amused and with a smile that hid almost an underlying contempt.

"You could have at least told us that you didn't speak it. We would have spoken in the common tongue." Loren Velaryon smiled at you with a wide, sincere smile while her husband looked at Celtigar, who smiled back in almost the same way. "Bea was asking you where you met."

You looked at your uncle, who was about to speak when you responded almost automatically. "In a bar," was all you said. You had noticed that no one at that table knew you were Aemond's niece. He had simply introduced you by name, and then the others had started talking about what you thought was business and anecdotes from his college years. Aemond left his other hand on the table. Arm outstretched as he timidly tapped his glass. You knew he only did it when he was nervous, but his face was unfazed. A Valyrian statue. That's what he was. You thought that everyone there knew of your existence, that everyone thought you were his niece, and you couldn't be more wrong. Aemond had introduced you as his partner, even though you hadn't understood. He wanted to give you your place, although, at that moment, he realized his mistake. Perhaps all of them had seen the images of the charity gala, but it was too late. It had been a stupid mistake.

"I can't imagine Aemond having a drink in a bar." Clement laughed, and Alyn did exactly the same. Both friends started laughing while Aemond continued undaunted. You had never met a single friend of your uncle's, but it was clear that all of them were not what you had expected.

"At least tell us that you found out she was already 18", laughed Alyn while his wife hit him on the arm for the profanity of his comment.

"Of course I did, asshole", Aemond roared, quite annoyed at the laughter of his friends. You blushed at that spectacle and tried to take another sip from your drink under the watchful eye of Celtigar's wife. "The Celtigar live in Yi Ti and the Velaryon in the summer islands", your uncle whispered in your ear, almost as if that was an explanation of why none of them had seen on television what had been repeated for weeks until your uncle bought absolutely everything. Money bought silence, and from what you understood at the time, those people were rich enough to live in an ivory tower where the rest of the news that concerned other mortals did not reach. You didn't like those people. They just looked down on you because they could. Their money and their status allowed it.

"She's very pretty, mind you," Loren commented, almost as if you weren't there. "And you'll probably learn High Valyrian soon. The best way to learn it is between the sheets. Aemond always said that to his girlfriends in college." Everyone laughed, and you saw your uncle smirk, but the truth is that he had never spoken to you in High Valyrian in bed, that he would have done it with other women. It just got on your nerves. Jealous. Really jealous. That was the word.

"Yara learned it super well", Bea commented while her husband nodded in silence. "And you were only there a couple of months, but she was an intelligent woman." Yara must have been one of your uncle's ex-girlfriends. She was smart, not like you. That comment let you know what that table was thinking about you at that moment. Clement agreed.

"I always thought you would marry her. All that bullshit about PhD and ancient Valyria. It was your stuff," Celtigar commented as he cut into his steak. "At least it was what I bet with Alyn", he said, pointing at him with the knife, while the man Velaryon felt uncomfortable before that conversation. Almost as uncomfortable as you felt. Aemond looked at you for a moment. You just looked sad, and he said something in High Valyrian that made Clement almost stop chewing. Both Celtigar’s were the ones now looking uncomfortable.

"The nice thing is that I've never seen Aemond so happy", Loren commented while her husband smiled sincerely. Aemond held your chin and kissed you in front of all of them. It was almost like a statement of what he felt. Your first kiss in public. He didn't plan to hide anymore. He was tired. You made him happy. That was all he needed. You were having dinner in that VIP room. The six of them alone, but it was certainly a statement that he wasn't going to hide anymore.

"Where are you from, (Y/N)?" Alyn asked almost innocently, and you went almost pale after that brief contact of your lips with your uncle's. You thought of something quick to say before Aemond spoke up and answered for you.

"From Starfall", you tried to smile "(Y/N) Dayne." You smiled, and Alyn was pleased with your answer. You continued eating in silence while they all returned to their conversation about money and luxuries. They toasted you and Aemond, and though you did not see it, your uncle's gaze darkened.

As he toasted, he looked at his glass, full of meaningless bubbles. You would never see yourself as a Targaryen. He would never make you feel like this. As much as he tried, you’re identifying yourself as a Dayne was proof of that. Not a Dayne. Not a Targaryen. You would always feel out of place. Always.

The room that Alys had booked for you in that hotel was right next to Aemond’s suite. It was intended for the small children of those who were staying at that hotel. The journey there had been silent until you got to the door of your room. Aemond had opened it with his hand leaning on it, and you had slipped into the shadows, closing it behind you. You heard your uncle's hesitant footsteps as he entered through the huge door of his suite. It was bullshit. What you just did. You took off your heels and dropped into Aemond's suite through the connecting door. Your uncle hadn't bolted the bolt that joined them, and that only served to prevent small children from sneaking into the intimate moments of the older ones. That situation was stupid, and you just sat on Aemond's bed in silence.

With his back to you, he undressed without much desire. That dinner had been tense. His best friends from college had always been a bunch of assholes, but after the comments they'd made to him about you while saying goodbye,they weren't people he liked very much.

He knew what they thought. They saw the difference in age, they saw your innocence, and they almost despised it. Luckily, no one had seen the bond that united you, and that greatly relieved him. He had been an asshole that night. He had tried to play house with you and had almost ruined everything. However, he still seemed annoyed with you. He unbuttoned his shirt as he looked at you, and you smiled at him beautifully, although he could see some sadness in your eyes. It was there, more accentuated than usual.

"You should, you should have said you were a Targaryen," he spoke without looking at you, still undressing, and your smile faltered, almost as if you hadn't heard him correctly. But, you had. "We've had this conversation before..." he said as he approached the bed and sat beside you. You nearly stirred like an attacked cat, though you tried to hide it. You've always been good at faking it.

"When we had it, we didn't sleep together, Aemond," you said without looking at him, remembering that night two years ago when he had encouraged you to wear your father's heraldry. It seemed almost like a lifetime had passed since that moment. "I don't want anyone to suspect. Fine if your friends live in their bubble, but the rest of the world doesn't, and…and…also, I'm not a Targaryen. I don't have the hair. I don't speak High Valyrian or…" there it was. The truth behind all those years. You were confessing it to the same man who seemed to be crazy about you for that simple fact.

Aemond looked ahead. He remembered all the times he had messed with the Strong boys for that very reason. but you were different. You were. You weren't a bastard. You were born to a Starfall woman, yes, but so had he been to a Hightower. You two were true Valyrian blood. He was more into that archetype of beauty, but your eyes... your eyes marked you as one of his. Yes. "You are a Targaryen in your own right, even if you don't speak High Valyrian or have the hair." He held your face in his hands. "And even if you weren't, I would still love you just the same." He swallowed hard while his one eye was fixed on you, who looked at him with bright eyes. "You are my everything."

"But your college girlfriends…and Alys…" you whispered. You had never been worried about jealousy until that moment when they all seemed like a better choice than you. At that moment, a tear ran down your face, and Aemond wiped it with one of his thumbs while continuing to hold your face, forcing eye contact,never to be lost.

"They are not you, (Y/N), and they never will be. You are above everything. You are everything to me, don't you see?" He whispered to you, almost desperate for you to understand that you were everything. "I would be willing to do anything for you. Absolutely everything"

"But we are always going to live in the shadow..." you whispered, coming back to the real world after those weeks of pure fantasy. This was the first time you talked about something truly momentous to your relationship, where you didn't just end up tangled between the sheets of a very expensive hotel room.

"No. Not always. I wanted tonight to be proof of that," he confessed to you. "There will be places we don't have to hide because no one will know who we are." Aemond almost said it as if it were a fantasy, but he was convinced it was a fantasy his money could buy. He had worked hard for it, for this moment, where he was really happy.

For the first time in a long time, he was happy, and no one was going to take that away from him. Although he had no idea how wrong he was, "I want you to trust me. I want you to tell me what worries you, what makes you sad, what makes you happy... I just want us to be together because you are what I need, what I've always needed," he whispered to you, closing his eye and leaning his forehead against yours. His closeness made all your hair stand on end, and you simply kissed him because, finally, that Aemond you had always known had returned to you.

"It's not what I asked for. It doesn't look like what I asked for at all." Alys looked up from her phone screen at the sound of a familiar voice. As she had showered, she had gone with the rest of her coworkers to have a drink at the hotel bar, but as always, she had stayed up late, almost waiting for someone to spend the night with. The prospect of sleeping with Meg wasn't something that excited her, and she needed company right now. She knew there would be others like her. Therefore, she had remained in that bar until well into midnight. Although she had realized something, she no longer aroused the same interest as before, and she had ended up playing with her mobile phone bored. However, at that moment, upon hearing that familiar voice, all her alarms went off. Perhaps she would sleep with someone that night.

"But it's art, Mr. Dayne", a boy who must have been your age, was talking to Gerold Dayne. Both were sitting at one of the tables near the bar. The boy, who had long white hair, almost looked like a copy of the Aemond, Alys had known of that young boy. The oil tycoon's son was talking to him while showing him some pictures on a laptop. Gerold must have been there for the simple fact that this congress moved millions, and, without a doubt, his father must have sent him there as an ambassador for the oil company. Gerold Dayne was not in business of his own accord. He had always been rather uninterested in all that, but despite his lack of interest in business, he was a man Alys had found likeable…and quite attractive.

"I am not arguing that it is art. I'm just telling you; it doesn't look like what I asked for. I am an entrepreneur. Not an artist," Gerold snapped at that boy, and that made Alys smile. Something must have changed in that wayward man from Starfall. "Try again. If you want that position in my advertising section, you are going to have to do better."

"Okay," the boy just sighed and looked up from the laptop at the same time that he closed it. Then, the boy's one-eyed gaze met Alys'. And she looked at him amazed. He was so similar to Aemond, even missing an eye, although this boy hid it not under an eyepatch but under a lock of hair. Albino with a red mark that covered a small part of his face. Alys couldn't take her eyes off him. That boy must be some Targaryen bastard. She was sure, but her thoughts were interrupted when Gerold saw her too and waved. The Dornishman shook the young man's hand and walked over to Alys.

Gerold's cute, teasing smile had always made Alys smile back, and he simply leaned against the bar. She stretched and sucked on the straw of her glass. "Alys Rivers alone. It must be my lucky night." Gerold smiled charmingly, and Alys laughed in a flirtatious way.

"I guess I'm not what I was any more." She laughed, without losing that sensual grin that had always turned so many men upside down, and Gerold sat next to her at the bar. He opened his purse and paid for the drink Alys was having. "Thank you", she replied, almost purring, and caressed her hand. Gerold just smiled, almost tired, as if all his seductive and scoundrel facets had disappeared at that moment.

"I know it was you who picked up the phone. I'm the one who should thank you," he answered without looking at her. He only asked to be served and took a drink in silence. Alys looked at him strangely, not knowing what to answer because she really didn't know what he was talking about. "The images of Aemond and (Y/N). I know that it was you who made the arrangements for them to disappear from the television and almost from the web. Even if it was with Aemond's money, I know it was you who arranged it all. Thank you," he repeated again. He looked at her with a sincere smile, and Alys simply put on her serious face.

"I was just following orders", she lied and took another sip from her drink, this time draining it to the end. "But if you want to buy me another one, I'm not going to complain." She finally smiled, and Gerold Dayne gave a half smile as he indicated to the waiter to get another drink for the secretary.

"I know it was to protect her, although I don't understand why" the Dornishman replied. Seeing Alys's bright eyes, he knew he hadn't been wrong. If anythingit attracted him to Alys. It was her almost feline cunning. "I have always liked your ability to handle everything in the shadows. Just before I picked up the phone, you already did it," he laughed.

"Were you going to buy the silence of the media?" Alys laughed as if it seemed impossible. The Daynes had money, but she didn't think it was as much as the Targaryen’s. That was impossible.

"I want her to be happy and my sister not die of disgust when she finds out what makes her happy." Gerold shrugged and took another sip of his drink, looking honestly at Alys. "Everything I do is for them. They are my family. It was hard for me to see it, but that's how it is." Gerold smiled when he saw how Alys's eyes shone. She was a good woman, even though the world had forced her to become the monster they thought she was, but she wasn't. Gerold was sure of it.

"It reminded me of when I was younger. That's all, and how I would have liked someone to help me," Alys swallowed, confessing what she did not want to confess. Because that confession unravelled more than she would have wanted to say, she had tried to change. She was getting it, and it made her feel better, even though it was pretty clear she was going to lose with it, or so she thought.

"You're a good person, Alys, even if you think you're not", he whispered in her ear and Alys, that Alys who thought she was cold and distant, blushed. "The first time I saw you so innocent on Daemond Targaryen's arm, I knew it." ended up smiling, completely disarming the woman who believed herself to be indestructible.

"So now you're getting serious about business, huh?" Alys smiled, trying to regain control of the situation. And Gerold laughed at that change of conversation. He knew women like Alys well; it was very difficult for them to ever let their guard down, but that was something he liked. It didn't bother him at all.

"Yeah, I told myself that if I wanted to leave anything for (Y/N) it was time to get to work. It's not that I like it, but I've discovered that I don't dislike it either," he commented again. Alys chewed on her inner cheek, trying to find a new topic of conversation. Truly, she didn't want to let Gerold go that night. For the first time in a long time, she was really at ease.

"The boy that was with you." Alys started to speak, and Gerold laughed. He had never taken her for someone so curious, but the Dornish only smiled in defeat and moved even closer to her.

"Yeah. He looks too much like Aemond. I even investigated to see if Aemond had had an affair that we didn't know about," he laughed. And Alys went pale, almost not believing what she had just heard. "No, he's a Targaryen bastard, but he's not Aemond's son," he laughed again, almost trying to reassure Alys. The truth is that she didn't care if Aemond had had a child. She cared that something like this could have escaped her information network. "(Y/N) was dating him. His name is Bryen Rivers, and I like him," he replied in a playful and amused tone, simply seeing how Alys's face went from worry to relief in a single instant. "If you like it and it brings back memories of better times, I can introduce you to him," Gerold joked, alluding to that time when Alys had been everything to Aemond.

"No, leave it. I'm tired of dragons," she replied, following her game, and Gerold laughed, fixing his violet eyes on her.

"Great, because I thought you were going to say you still had a thing for guys with silver hair. That would mean I'm out of the game," he replied in a suggestive tone, and Alys laughed. It was obvious that she wouldn't be sleeping in the same room with Meg tonight, but she was a spymaster, and she really needed that information.

"So, does he work for you?" Alys shrugged, wanting to know more about that boy. The more she knew, the better she could protect you, even if it was a task, she had ordered herself.

"He wants to work for me. Soon, he will study in the same school as (Y/N), and I guess he thinks that if he works for me, she will be interested in him again. I liked him for her, but I know she wasn't with him because she was in love." Gerold stretched again. "So, since I like him, I let him try to get into my publicity department. He's quite talented," he commented as if it were yet another corporate action, and that made Alys laugh. Gerold had changed. Very much. And that made her come to him like a moth to a flame.

"Tomorrow, I have a date to have lunch with (Y/N). We are both in the same conference, and I would find it ugly not to see her," he commented without looking at Alys. "I suppose she will be brought by Aemond. Which won't be a pleasant experience." He winked at Alys but then leaned closer to her, almost as if he were whispering in her ear. "I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me then. Tomorrow. The two alone."

"I thought we were going to have breakfast together," Alys replied in a suggestive purr that made Gerold laugh.

"I would love to, but for once, I would like to do things right. I think it would be quite an experience for both of us if, for the first time, we didn't sleep with that person that we are so attracted to, and we did things step by step." He smiled sincerely, honestly, as if Alys were not a toy but a person, and that made her heart race. She felt butterflies in her stomach, and she wanted the next day to come. It was the first time that she felt that they were not going to use her. There were two feelings in Gerold's words that Alys had rarely experienced: gratitude and honesty. She remembered that girl who had entered Daemon Targaryen's office for the first time, and her heart raced. She wanted to be that girl again.

She just nodded, and Gerold escorted her to her room like a real gentleman. Just reaching the door, Alys turned to say goodbye after opening her card, but the Dornishman didn't let her speak. He just kissed her silently. A touch of their lips that indicated something more than passion and desire. An underlying affinity began between them that Alys had never experienced.

She had been Daemon's lover, Aemond's confidant, but she had never felt what she felt in that moment. She had no words to explain it. "See you tomorrow, Alys," Gerold whispered to her again, and Alys slipped into her room. Not caring if it woke Meg up, she could only try to stifle a nervous, happy laugh against her bedroom door just after she closed it.

Aemond had fallen asleep. Almost after making love, he had snorted tiredly, and after telling you that he loved you, he had fallen asleep while looking at the ceiling with a satisfied smile. Normally, he would have hugged you, but you could feel that he was tired after the flight. But you didn't care. You just snuggled up against his bare chest. You were just as tired, but you sure couldn't sleep. After so many confessions, so many fears and insecurities, you had finally confessed a part of them to Aemond, but now that things seemed to be better, you were going to walk away from him to start college. He would visit you. He had promised you. But, something inside of you told you that that fantasy that Aemond had in his head of being together was not going to work. Now you wanted to be with him. You wanted to shout it out to the world, but how was the world going to react? Nobody would accept it. You knew that your mother would think you weren't well, that your grandmother Alicent would die of disgust, and your father you didn't know very well, how your father would react, if at all? You slipped onto the bed and grabbed your phone; leaned against the headboard and did something you'd never done before.

You searched for information on Daemon and Rhaenyra. They, like you, had suffered that passionate and secret love like the one you two also experienced. They were you. Exactly the same, or, if not, similar. You saw a couple of gossip magazine covers where they talked about the close relationship between the two. You saw the news starring both of them, together or separately, and you read about the scandal. Your skin stood on end when you saw how the press had branded them as monsters. They were monsters for the fact they loved each other.

You thought about putting the phone down while you kept reading and reading about them. However, you couldn't. Something inside you wanted to know more and more about it, but you froze when you read the news about Rhaenyra's death. That made you shed a tear. They were all talking about Daemon's manipulation of her. Nobody came out in defense of what only two monsters could feel. Another shudder, another strangled sob. Why should it be better for you and Aemond? There was no evidence for it. Heavy tears rolled down your cheeks. None of this was going to end well.

Daemon had had as much money as Aemond, and yet he had failed to protect the one he loved most. How was Aemond going to defend you? The press had been merciless with them, but you also knew that they would be relentless with you. Your heart was breaking at times. It was almost like seeing the consequences of the relationship you had. It was too hard a blow with reality. Maybe too much.

Your sobs woke Aemond, who just looked at you in confusion. Just when he saw what was on the screen of your phone, he hugged you and threw the device away. He just hugged you while rocking you in silence. He only broke it to say that you would not suffer the same fate. He was going to take care of everything. He would. You wanted to believe him, even though you knew that he himself had warned you a long time ago.

And as he held you silently and stroked and kissed your hair, a message came on your phone from Bryen. You would only see him the next morning, but he was informing you that he was at Sunspear and that he needed to see you before the course. That boy was still in love with you, although you had already forgotten him. Your entire world was Aemond.

[angelfirstclass]

X-men finale reaction...

OMG, hell yes. This was epic, this was a triumph and looking at all of the ten episodes together, THE best X-men adaptation ever. It did honor to the source material and was the best decision to keep it in the 90s and not modernize it And it took it beyond and super deep. The music was epic- I want the soundtrack or would attend a live concert of the music. Then the plot and fan service done to the viewers was chef's kiss perfection. There may be detractors out there and I may come down from this cloud and be able to nitpick but not now. I'm too excited and thrilled.

Firstly, I love that Disney is promoting X-men on the main page and was the first thing I saw when I opened the app. Yes, Disney! Disney/Marvel, congrats. You helped create a masterpiece of modern storytelling that revived an old almost forgotten piece of comic cartoon history and pulled it into the modern age. It was perfect timing and us old fans who grew up on TAS was thirsting after, but you also brought in new viewers and viewers like my husband who could care less about cartoon superheroes. But the storylines were compelling and the writing was deep, X-men 97 deserves its flowers. (Spoilers ahead).

Secondly, the writing and character development in this episode was fan service, it was perfection, and it was very well written. Starting with Cherik which I had some objections to last week due to feeling that Xavier was being holier than thou and not understanding Erik. But in this episode seeing the lengths that Xavier would go for Erik melted my heart. I still have some thoughts about Erik "making his X-men turn on each other" as I feel that they are grownups with their own minds, but the rest of the episode with Xavier cradling Erik and willing to go down with the ship with him is gold. Then they busted out the Badass X-women and I loved it! I am a huge Rogue fan and they did right by her- she was accepted back into the team no questions asked and she was so fierce. I teared up when she attacked Bastion with the "Remember it" line and I loved the whole team stepping up, working together to battle Bastion. I also loved the Cable/Scott/Jean storyline and we even got some Morpherine!

Thirdly, some of my predictions came true! I predicted in a previous post that the Avengers and other Marvel characters would make cameos in the finale and I was right! It was a veritable who's who of Marvel characters and I cackled in delight when they popped up! Predictably, Iron Man and Captain America were in the White House with the President. I knew that they weren't sitting out on this one! Then we saw Daredevil, Silver Samurai, Black Panther and Dora Milaje, Psylocke and many more!

Last but certainly not least, Apocalypse and more importantly DEATHBIT! As a ROMY shipper, I squeed so much at this! The fans have been dreaming about this since ep 5 as it gives us even a sliver of having some part of Gambit back and now it's confirmed with that Queen of Hearts cliffhanger. Oooh yes! Even if it's not the Real Remy back, just having Deathbit and a glimmer of Remy back in the storyline is juicy and desired indeed. There are a LOT of Romy and Gambit fans out there and this satisfies us and has us wanting more. Even if it's crazy and complicated, fans are going to eat up a Deathbit storyline, so yes please! And beyond Gambit, Apocalypse is a badass villain- kudos for the writers going here. Comic and Cartoon fans alike can agree that time travel is interesting and will come up with many cool, fascinating new storylines.

I can't wait until Season 2, but until then I will be rewatching the finale a million times. I am so glad that the writers understood the assignment and gave us this masterpiece. It calmed my Romy heart, gave us amazing battle sequences, had fun Marvel cameos, and perfectly set up next season.

[absurdthirst]

Holy Water {Max Phillips x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.3k

Warnings: Mentions of murder, mentions of blood, vampirism, bad attitudes, snarky comments, toxic workplace, physical assault, fear, anxiety, misuse of holy water, sex pollen, DUB CON, compulsion, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, rough sex, church sex, desecrating a holy place, multiple orgasms, vampire sex

Comments: Max Phillips is your new boss and you hate him for being a vampire. Clashing until you quit, you are attacked one night and take refuge in the church nearby. Where Max has a very strange reaction when you splash him with Holy Water.

A/N: We wanted sex pollen so we wrote it!

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Max Phillips MasterList ||

Moodboard by @pedropascalsx

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The silence is loud, almost deafening. The wind barely stirs, there's not even the sounds of animals scurrying in the dark. Not even the sound of breathing can be heard. The air is thick, heavy with something ominous. The scent is metallic, almost coppery and you can taste it. It's the perfect scene for a horror movie right before the terror begins, the moonlight hanging heavy in the unusually dark night sky. The only beacon of light to be had.

The table had been set. Candles lit and the wine poured. His favourite CD was playing quietly in the background as you perfected the final touches for what you assumed would have been a perfect evening.

The dress you wore was a knockout, hugging every curve and the neckline dipping just enough to show off your cleavage. Your hair styled perfectly with your natural makeup giving you an extra glow.

You had taken one last look at the table and giggled. It was covered with little bite size tasters of wedding cakes with multiple flavors and fillings. It was the very last thing you had to do before your big day that upcoming summer, choose the cake. So you secretly had his favorite bakery make you samples of every flavor they offered. 

He was running a little late but that wasn’t surprising, rush hour traffic on a Friday is always a little worse than the rest of the week and you’d decided to take those extra minutes to double check that everything was ready.

A loud unexpected knock at the door had signaled the end of life as you knew it.

You always peeped through the little hole to see who was waiting on the other side but you skipped it that time. Too excited and occupied by things you thought were to come.

Two uniformed police officers. Both stood with vacant expressions on their faces. *In that moment you immediately knew.* They didn’t come into the apartment. They apologized and said words that didn’t make sense, they showed you their IDs and asked you to follow them to the local hospital. You went back into your apartment and blew out the candles before slipping on your coat and shoes. 

All of you left that day, but not all of you would be coming back later that evening.

****

It’s a common misconception that vampires can’t see their reflection. Maybe at one point they couldn’t because all mirrors were made with a silver backing, but not modern day mirrors. Max checks his teeth, making sure that the intern he had just feasted on wasn’t stuck in them. He hates when he has bits of human in his gums. Causes gingivitis. He licks his lips, winking at the handsome devil in the reflection and then sets out to smooth back the flyaway hairs that had gotten out of place from the struggle the poor bastard had put up. Some don’t like the taste of a scared meal, but for Max, it enhances the flavor of the vitamin B in the bloodstream. 

Once his appearance is deemed perfect, he whistles as he strolls out of the bathroom on the twelfth floor and moves towards the break room where everyone has been gathered. He would have preferred it to be in the bullpen, but those are easily changes to be made when he is running things.

You take a seat towards the back of the break room, smoothing out your work dress before crossing your legs. Time to meet the new boss. You feel a little nervous, you had gotten along so well with your last boss and you were so grateful that he arranged for you to have a few weeks off paid after your fiancé was murdered. You can only hope your new boss is as kind and understanding.

“Max Phillips!” As soon as Max hears his name being announced, he walks through the door, grinning an award winning smile and taking in the room. He knows everyone’s names but he doesn’t say anything as he walks over to shake the office manager's hand. “Good to be here.”

Your heart sinks at the sight of him. Cocky, arrogant and clearly about to be a massive pain in your ass… And worst of all? A vampire.

You try to keep level headed about living in a society integrated with vampires, and to be honest you were happy to co-exist with them until that fatal night your beloved was brutally murdered by one. 

But things are still raw and the fact that there are specialist bars and clubs popping up for people to be fed from or turned on every corner makes your stomach lurch.

Jake had been murdered by  men who had been turned less than 2 weeks before, he was simply bitten and left to his own devices.

No one was made to keep an eye on them or help them deal with their urges and your sweet loving boyfriend of 4 years paid the ultimate price.

Max winks at one of the receptionists, Marlene is her name if he remembers the employee file right, and he does. Another helpful thing about being a vampire is the automatic photographic memory. He can see that she will be easily hypnotized; she might be a tasty snack. To munch on, not have a full course meal. Especially since she seems to be on her period. “What do we sell here?” Max asks, pouting as he looks around the room at all the bored people. They were lifeless, which was ironic considering he was the one who’s heart didn’t beat. He pauses on one face, stony and disapproving. Making him smirk slightly at the challenge the beautiful face contains. “You.” He points at her.

Your breath hitches as he points at you, flashing a disarming smile that you refuse to let affect you. “Vacations,” you say blankly before taking a sip of your cheap coffee.

“No.” Apparently this chick has an attitude, he can dig it. Turning to another employee next to you, he changes his expression. “We sell dreams.” He urges, putting a sense of nostalgia in his voice. “We sell escape from routine, life.” Oh the irony of that makes him want to giggle. “No one wants to talk about their dental plans or their 401k. They want to talk about strolling the streets of Rome and bumping into a lover that swept them away for a magical week.”

You roll your eyes at his impassioned speech. Before swallowing down the final dregs of your lukewarm coffee. “Great.” You murmur under your breath, something telling you that these speeches will become an everyday occurrence.

Most are buoyed by his speech, some aren't. Though the one who has him intrigued the most is the one who looks annoyed. He looks over the crowd again, decisions made on a few of their fates from this interaction alone. "I'll be coming around to meet all of you individually, but for now, happy selling!"

Don’t rush, you think to yourself as you discard your coffee cup in the trash and make your way out of the room. Feeling a pair of eyes lingering on you the entire time.

Max whispers your name to himself, making a note to look in your personnel file again before having his one on one with you. It's obvious that you have some sort of disdain for him and he's wondering if it's from just first impressions or if there is another reason you look like you want to stake him in the heart.

The rest of your morning is spent working on a big job. A family vacation to Walt Disney World - the commission is great and you’re occupied by the many details of the job, but you can’t shake the feeling you’re being watched. You glance up a few times but you don’t see anyone.

Your file thoroughly studied, Max has figured out that it's because he's a vampire. The little notation in your file for the extended leave for 'bereavement' led to the discovery of your fiancé's murder. Down the rabbit hole of his underworld contacts to find out that he had been attacked by vampires and killed. It explains it, and just makes Max decide that he will have to be extra charming towards you.

You hate him. It’s been less than a day but you can’t stand him. The arrogant way he winks across the room at you, the way he insists on calling you sweetheart and lets his hand rest on your shoulder as he listens intently to your work calls.

“Good job.” Max hums as you finish the call and press the break button so he can talk to you. “Only thing I would say is that you could have upsold them on that meal package.” He chuckles and pats his own trim stomach. “People on vacation love to not think about their abs.”

"They made it clear they intended to eat out and explore local businesses," you say back with a scoff, "If I could have, I would have. But they wouldn't have gone for it."

"Sure you could have." Max hums. "You just have to remind them of all their options. The value of it."

"Don't you have something better to be doing with your time?" you snap back at him, before grabbing your coffee cup and making your way to the break room.

Max's brows lift and he smirks at your retreating figure, "This is my job, sweetheart!" He calls after you. Apparently you didn't like the hands on approach. "Dave!" He calls out to the man passing by him. "Let me chat with you.”

You pour yourself a large helping on the crappy instant coffee that's kept in a large supply in the break room. Cursing him under your breath. "Arrogant son of a bitch."

"Who?" Max appears behind you and leans over your shoulder. "Who aren't we liking in the office?" He asks playfully, fully aware you hate him.

You groan out loud before rolling your eyes, "Don't you have someone else you can bother?"

"I'm getting the feeling you don't like me." Max pouts, giving you a chance to deny it, but he knows you won't.

You hum before taking a large sip of your coffee, "Maybe you're not as dumb as you look after all."

Max can tolerate a lot, but his friendly gaze freezes slightly and his eyes lose some of their affable warmth. "You do understand who I am, don't you?" The tone is still perfectly professional, but there is a warning threaded through it. "I'm your boss, so maybe try not to insult me to my face?"

"Is that a threat, Mr. Phillips?" You ask before attempting to push past him.

Max's jaw rocks slightly. "This is a workplace." He reminds you. "You would do well to remember that." Instead of staying and continuing to argue with you, he tilts his head, "Perhaps a week off without pay will remind you?" He asks.

"Make it two." You challenge with a raised eyebrow.

"Done." Max snaps his fingers and slaps his hands together. "Gather your things, you're punched out as of now." His tone is final, firm. He frowns in disappointment, hoping that you would have been a bit more flexible. On paper you were a fantastic employee, top of his list. Now it seems that he might have to rethink things. 

"Fuck," you mouth to yourself as you grab your things from your desk. Two weeks without pay is going to be hell on earth but there was something inside you that just needed to wipe that smugness off of his face. You glance over towards his office and see him standing in the doorway watching as you pack up some of your things.

He knows there are very few employees here that can afford to take two weeks without pay and he wonders if you will come and apologize. That's all that is necessary for you to stay. Although he feels like you wouldn't, too stubborn for your own good. Max shifts and calls your name. "When you are ready, step into my office to sign some papers please."

You pull the strap of your handbag over your shoulder and tuck your jacket under your arm before making your way to his office. Attempting to ignore the glares from everyone else in the room. You tap his door quietly and wait to be invited in.

"Come in." The irony of inviting someone into his office isn't lost on Max and he looks up when the door is pushed open.

"Would you feel more comfortable with the door open or closed?" He asks.

"I don't mind," you say with a shrug, unsure how this is about to go. "Whatever suits you.”

"Close the door." Max decides, setting his pen down and motioning for you to take a seat. "No need for everyone to try to walk by to hear."

You simply nod in agreement and slowly close the door behind you. Taking small tentative steps towards the chair, he's gesturing for you to sit on. "What do I need to sign?"

"Nothing." Max tosses you a smirk. "I lied but thought it was better that I say that than publicly airing your issue with me."

"I don't have an issue with you," you say with a non committal shrug, feeling the obvious lie lingering in the air.

Max doesn't believe you, but he shrugs and leans back in his chair. "If you say so." He lets you off. "Whatever your feelings, as long as you can do your job and not incite rebellion in the office, we are fine." He lifts a brow. "Unless you like being difficult?"

"Incite a rebellion?" You say with a scoff, "Ah, so when a woman doesn't swoon and fall at your feet, we're rebels? How medieval of you.” 

Max's easy expression drops away and he stares at you for a long moment. "I don't give a fuck what you think of me." He states flatly. "But you won't be unprofessional and think you won't be corrected." He waits for another beat. "Now.... Do you want to start again, or do you want to have two weeks without pay?"

You can't help but smirk at the way his face falls, clearly not used to having someone challenge or not fall over their own feet to impress him. "Start again. But this time, you don't speak to me and I don't speak to you. I will continue being the best salesperson here and you can invest your valuable time in those interested in sucking up to you."

Max tilts his head, watching you. "I am your boss." He murmurs. "I can just fire you for cause and move on to someone with less...issues." He pauses. "But I know you're down an income already."

"Excuse me?" You ask, the smirk plastered across your face being instantly replaced with fury. "You have no right... don't you dare." 

"Awww, did I hit a nerve?" Max asks, springing out of his chair and farting around the desk before you can blink an eye. "You insult me to my face, knowing what I am, what I can do and expect me to be nice?"

"Fuck you." You spit back, forgetting about all the years you've given to this company and getting ready to walk out, "Is that a threat, Mr. Phillips?"

"No." Max settles back and leans against his desk. "It's not. But you have an attitude problem." He observes. "I didn't kill your fiancé."

"No, but someone you most likely had a hand in turning did." Your hands shake with anger as he casually brings up Jake, "I don't have an attitude problem. I have an issue with the fact you can commit any type of crime you see fit and we have to suffer the consequences whilst you clearly get away with murder." 

"I just moved to town sweetheart." Max hums. "Sorry, wasn't me. But blame me if it makes you feel better." He waves his hand dismissively. "Get back to work." You hate him and he's not going to change that, but he's not going to fire you right now. 

"Arrogant son of a bitch," you murmur as you get out of your chair and make your way towards the door, "You don't talk to me again. You have an issue with me or my performance. You go through HR." You slam the door behind you and waltz back to your desk, throwing your bag back underneath it and shaking your head.

“Shit.” Max sighs and walks around to your file and flips it open. He had decided to change you, you had been an excellent candidate to change but now….. Max circles your picture with his finger. He doesn’t want to destroy you, but you might just push him to have to do just that. It’s a shame, you’re a sexy woman and he can smell how good you would taste.

You glance over at the picture of you and Jake on your desk, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you're reminded of happier times. It's at this moment you decide that you'll work tirelessly to avoid any interaction with Max possible.

****

It's been a week since the incident in his office. You've avoided him as much as possible, slinking out of the coffee room without as much of a word when he waltzes in, keeping your head down at your desk and refusing to make any eye contact with him when he enters the room.

The only place he has you cornered is the meeting room. Every morning he calls everyone in for one of his signature pep talks and he makes a deal of calling on you every time and attempting to trip you up. Making snide comments or attempting to call you out on something to see if you'll snap, but you refuse. Instead you plaster on a sickly sweet smile and keep yourself as level headed as possible, enjoying the flash of fury that he can't quite keep at bay every time he fails in his attempts to humiliate you.

Max narrows his eyes on the sales report, your numbers are starting to slide and he smirks viciously. Your file is still one that he hasn't dealt with yet, although the changes are starting to happen around the office. He's already turned a few of your co-workers. He picks up his phone and dials your desk.

You sigh out loud when you see his name flash up on your desk phone. "Yes?" you ask into the phone, your annoyance crystal clear. 

"Would you come to my office please? We need to discuss your sales figures." Max asks stiffly and then hangs up so you don't even have a chance to deny him.

You take a deep breath and make your way to his office, knocking once before letting yourself in and taking a seat. "How can I help you today, Mr Phillips?"

Max shifts in his seat, straightening up and adjusting his tie. "Please sit, we need to discuss your numbers.

You lower yourself into the seat and shrug your shoulders, "Okay, what do you need to discuss?"

"Your sales have been slipping." Max offers you the report. "Drastically." He leans back and watches as you thumb through the pages. 

"Drastically?" you say back with a laugh, "I'm outselling everyone in the office."

"Actually…. Max pulls out the other report and hands it to you. "You're not."

"You?" You yell across the desk at him, "How the hell is someone who's supposedly senior management outselling the sales staff? Clearly you've falsified these documents."

Max smirks at your outrage and purses his lips. "You think I'm lying? How cute." He chuckles quietly. "You can check the system. All verified sales." 

"Is your ego really that fragile, Max?" you say with an exaggerated pout, "Little man couldn't handle a woman in first place and had to take on extra duties to change that?" 

"Taking on extra sales so the fucking department didn't get shit canned." Max growls. "I don't think you understand what management wants, sweetheart." He flashes a cold grin. "They wanted me to eat half the department the day I arrived."

"Oh is that what it is? You were protecting the department you're claiming you got hired to eat?" You say with a scoff. "Well congratulations, I hope you enjoy rubbing your already overinflated ego tonight as means of celebration. I have work to do."

Max calls your name sternly as you stand and turn to walk towards the door. "Get your numbers up." He cautions you. "Or you won't like the atmosphere come Monday."

"You don't frighten me, Max. I don't need to remind you that your kind has already taken everything that matters from me." You walk out the door, purposely leaving it wide open just so he has to get up and you hold back tears as you make a beeline towards the break room.

Max stands up and instead of closing the door, he marches after you. Tired of your treatment of him in front of the entire sales department.

You pour yourself a large cup of water and take a deep breath, determined not to let him see how much he's gotten under your skin today.

Striding into the room, Max clears his throat. "I'm going to have to write you up for insubordination." He announces, rocking his jaw as he gets more and more angry at the way you have been combative from the start. He didn't kill your fiancé and he's tired of being your whipping boy.

"Whatever makes you feel big, little man," you say before taking a large sip of water.

Max waits a beat to see if you will realize what you've said but you just stare at him. "You're fired." Max spits, fangs springing down from his gums as he glares at you.

"No, I quit." You say as the tears you'd been holding back start to stream down your face. "You can go and fuck yourself, Max Phillips.” You storm past him and grab your coat and bag from your desk and immediately make your way towards the exit. Needing to get out and away from him as quickly as you can.

"Bye sweetheart." Max calls, leaning against the break room door. "Try to have a better attitude with your next boss."

****

It had been five days since you're firing/quitting and you'd managed to convince your brother in law to hire you as temporary bar staff in his dive bar just to keep you afloat until you found something better suited for you. With the cleaning staff long gone and the rest of the bar staff likely tucked up in bed, you finished restocking the beer fridge and replacing the bar towels before calling it a night. It was just past 2am and the streets seemed bare. You set the alarm and hastily locked the side door before making your way towards your car. 

Max hums, checking his watch as patting the hip of the human that he had fed from earlier. "I've got to go, babe." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out some money to tuck in between her tits playfully, "go home and drink some OJ. Gotta replenish that blood for tomorrow." He waggles his brows and winks. She pouts but within minutes Max is stumbling out of the bar un-ironically named Fangs into the cool morning air. The alleyway is dark, but his hearing is better than most and he moves towards the street a few blocks over where he parked his car. 

You shiver in the cold as you pick up your pace a little, trying to push down the feeling that you're being watched.

Max hears something. A snickering that is nothing but trouble and he can hear the whispers. "Look at her. Easy target." Vampires. "That's the one - the woman of the other one we drained." That gets his attention, because how many woman's partners were drained in this town? Speeding up, he spots you in the distance, unaware of the danger around you.

You start to rifle through your bag, digging out your keys to feed them through your fingers, just to relieve a little panic rising in your chest. You glance around and don't see anyone, but you can't feel the feeling that you're being watched.

The attack comes suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, but Max sees the two fly in from the darkness. Hissing a curse, he darts down the alleyway far faster than a mortal could run, intent on stopping this sport.

Your cry as you are pushed up against the side of your car pisses Max off. He's close enough to see that it is you. Head yanked back and throat exposed. Making him growl in furious rage, the sound like an angry beast and making the two vampires pause before one sinks his teeth into your jugular. Giving him just enough time to reach you and body slam the two of them and throw them away from you.

Your legs threaten to fail as you attempt to catch your breath, you're not sure whether you find the strength but you push yourself upright and run into the building in front of you. Running past the lines of pews and heading to the confessional to hide.

Once their prey is out of sight, the two vampires focus on Max, snarling and flashing their fangs in a show of anger but they don't attack. Obviously believing that Max has some claim on the human he had protected.

You slide the confessional curtain closed behind you and drop to the floor, your hands shaking with fear as you try to regain some composure.

Only when the two slink off into the shadows where they belong does Max relax, looking around and seeing the door to the church pushed open. Groaning to himself and rolling his eyes, he stares up at the cross over the threshold and grins as he crosses it. "Sweetheart?" He calls out, the low lights are soft and he starts looking through the pews for one very scared human. "Come out."

The sound of his footsteps make you shake even harder, you wrap your arms around your legs and bring them closer to your chest in an attempt to make yourself smaller. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip to suppress any sounds that might slip through.

"Where are you?" He demands, freezing so he can listen for the sound of you breathing. "It's safe, come on out, sweetheart."

You refuse to move a muscle, remaining as still and quiet as you possibly can. Knowing that this is all just a trick and the moment he finds you, he's going to kill you.

Your refusal to answer him and it makes him roll his eyes. Of course you would be difficult even when he saves your life. Instead of calling you again, he smirks and picks up a heavy hymnal and drops it on the ground.

The loud bang causes a loud gasp to slip through your lips and immediately gives away your location. You curse yourself as you start to raise up off the ground getting ready to run.

Max chuckles quietly at the sound coming from the confession and opens the dark, heavy curtain. "Hey, sweetheart. You talking to God in there?" He asks. "You could always just talk to me. I'm better."

"Please just leave," you start to beg, your voice almost unrecognizable to yourself as he starts in front of you, "I quit. I don't understand why you're still trying to hurt me."

  “Trying to hurt you?” Realization dawns and with it comes the biggest pout. You think he attacked you. Instead of being a decent human being (well, sort of), you think he is playing some sick game. “I scared off the vampires who were going to turn you into human jerky.”

"I'm supposed to believe that? Even after all the threats and passive aggressive comments from you?" You say as a shiver runs through you.

"I've never threatened you." His pout turns into a frown. "Talking to you about the realities of the workforce isn't threatening. Besides like you said- you quit." He shrugs and jerks his head. "Come on. I'll walk you to your car."

You figure that pissing him off by refusing or pushing past him isn't your best bet here, so you shrug and take a few small steps forward.

Max steps back, giving you a wide berth and holding his hand out like he is showing you the world. He can still hear your heart galloping in your chest so figures you are still nervous. "See? Everyone's friends here."

You nod your head slightly, still unsure on how to gauge this. But you take a few more steps, picking up the pace a little to increase the distance.

You are anxious to get away from him, he can sense it. His own pace quickens to keep up with you, not wanting you to go outside without him there. Just in case.

The sound of his footsteps speeding up behind you makes your panic levels rise through the roof. You look around for something to protect you with but the only thing that's near you in the font that houses the holy water. You increase your pace once nice more and duck around it.

"Are we playing tag?" He calls out, trying to piss you off enough to make you calm down. "Are you it, or am I?"

"This isn't funny." you stutter as you move further from him. Your fingertips gripping onto the font. "I won't ever bother you again. I'll leave town. Just don't hurt me."

"I'm not going to hurt you, sweetheart." Max coos, trying to adopt a less playful tone, wanting to soothe your wary emotions. "Come out, I'll get you home safe." He sees you peer around the damn vessel of holy water and holds his hand out. He doesn't want to compel you, but he will. 

"No." You say as sternly as possible. "Just leave."

"You want to get eaten?" Max hisses. "Fine." He's trying to help you and you just keep fighting him. 

"You say that like you're not going to kill me the first opportunity you get." you snarl, "I know what this stuff does to your kind." You say as you gesture to the water.

Max glances at the water and then back at you, laughing. "Oh sweetheart." He rolls his eyes and spreads his arms wide. "I supposedly shouldn't even be able to walk into this building." He reminds you. "The "church"-" he uses air quotes around the word, "hasn't been Holy since the 1800s."

You shake your head at his words, "No." You watch him take slow steps towards you and without thinking you reach down into bowl and splash a bunch of the holy water in his distraction before scrambling backwards.

"Fuck!" Max is more pissed off about the fact that his wool jacket got wet than you splashing him with holy water. He hates the smell of wet wool but the damn thing is warm, making him feel moderately human for a moment. You dart around the vessel and Max leaps in front of you, grabbing you by both arms. "That wasn't nice!" He hisses, blinking the water out of his eyes.

"You trying to kill me outside this Church wasn't nice," you scream at him as his grip on your arms tightens

"Fucking hell, I was trying to save you." Max's nostrils flare and the bloom of your scent fills them like ambrosia, making him moan and duck his head to bury it against your neck. 

"What are you doing?" you gasp as he drags his lips against your neck. 

"I- you smell so fucking good." Max groans, holding you tighter and inhaling the gorgeous scent of your blood rushing through your veins. It goes straight to his cock, hardening against your hip as he kisses and licks at your pulse like he is starving. "Even when you're hating me, you always smell good. Skin tastes so sweet." He moans between laps at your skin.

"Max," you whimper unable to hide from how good it feels, "Are you going t-" You cut yourself off with your own gasp as you feel his rock hard cock press up against you.

"Fuck." Max's head is swimming with lust and feels like his skin is on fire from the inside. Not in the melting, about to die, kind of way that you imagined when you flung Holy water in his face. Instead, it's this need to tear your clothes off and bury his cock into your warm, wet body until you are screaming and cumming around him. "Say it again," he begs. "Say my name just like that again." He pulls your purse off your shoulder and tosses it down, sliding a hand down and gripping your ass to rock you against his hard body.

"Max," you whimper again, unsure how you're suddenly under his spell. The feeling of his body pressing against yours making your pussy drip with arousal. "What are you doing to me?"

He knows he's projecting, compelling you to want him, but he can't stop. "I- fuck, I need to touch you." Max rushes out, sounding breathless even though he technically needs no air in his lungs. "Want to taste every inch of your skin."

Every part of your brain is telling you to push him away, to run as fast as you can but the way he's touching you is like nothing you've ever experienced before. "You hate me," you choke out as he roughly squeezes one of your breasts.

"No I don't." Max groans, loving the heat you are radiating and he wants to curl around it and soak it up. His hand slides under your shirt and he covers your bra with his hand. "Fuck. Fuck I need to be inside you." You're in a church, but he doesn't give a fuck. He would be tugging at your clothes right in front of the Father and do it happily.

His other hand slides around to cup your cunt through your jeans. "You want to stake me through the heart, but I want to make you cum." 

"This is a trick," you stammer out, putting up zero resistance to all of his advances. "You're just trying to push down my defenses."

"This feel like a trick?" He rolls his hips forward and pushes his hard cock into your hip even more. "Fuck." He lets go of your breast and reaches up to strip your jacket off your body. Starting to lose control and he doesn't want to rip your clothes if he can help it.

"Fuck," you push him away, shaking your head, "Why are you doing this? You despise me. You can't deny it."

"I can't stop." Max understands you hate him, although he doesn't know why you keep insisting it's him that hates you. He pulls away to push your shirt up and over your head, revealing your pretty bra and groaning. "Fuck, fuck, look at you." He groans, ducking his head down and kissing along your bra, licking your skin.

"You can't stop?" you ask with a raised eyebrow, hating the way you moan as he kisses your skin. "Max," you whimper again as he strong arms you down onto a pew.

"Yes, yes 'Max'" He moans, "Max is going to make you feel so good, baby. I promise you. It'll be so good, soooo good." He nudges your bra down enough with his nose so that he can pop your nipple into his mouth, his fingers working on your jeans. Eager to lay you out bare and quiche this fire in his veins.

You're not sure how or why this is happening. You both despise each other but the way his mouth feels on your skin is electric and instead of moving from him, it's like you're magnetized. "Taste me." You whisper.

Max groans, pulling away so he can pull your clothes off of you. Not caring where the jeans and panties you were wearing land as he throws them behind him. Knees hitting the floors as if in prayer but if he is praying, it's to the cunt he buries his face in.

"MAAAAXXX," you scream as he starts to lap at your folds, eating you like a man starved. Like a man who needs to do this to survive.

Fingers dig into your thighs, breaking capillaries and the smell of fresh blood makes him moan. His tongue flicks over your clit rapidly. He's faster, stronger than a mere human, of course he could eat pussy faster too.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you croak out as he pulls you closer and closer to your high.

Max disagrees wholeheartedly and grumbles against your clit to voice that. Pulling you closer to the edge of the pew and letting go of one of your thighs so he can pull his aching cock out of his pants.

Your mind is clouded with pleasure and all of the thoughts of pushing off you melt away as you start to come undone

Your cunt gets sweeter the closer you are to cumming. Making him growl and double down on how ravenously he licks through your folds. Eager to make your thighs shake and your world spin around on his tongue as he strokes himself.

Your hands find purpose in his hair, pulling it tightly as you rock against his face. "Gonna cum," you say with a groan as everything goes black. White hot pleasure tearing throughout your body as he continues his delicious assault as you start to convulse in pleasure, your thighs squeezing around his head.

You taste better than blood, making him groan as your thighs press around him. If he were human, you'd be suffocating him. His tongue curls up inside you, wanting every drop of your release as his appetizer, earned from the strokes of your clit.

You moan his name as he laps up every drop. The haze after your orgasm slowly begins to clear as his tongue hits something seismic inside of you. You gently push his head away before concentrating on steadying your heaving chest. "Fuck."

Now is the time to pull away with a clear head but there's nothing but lust rushing through Max's veins. The roar of need consumes him and his hands shaking as he rips at his own clothes.

"Fuck me, Max," you mewl, shocking yourself for letting those words fall from your lips.

He knows the way his compulsion is projecting onto you. This lust is nothing more than a mirage. Still, all he can do is nod, finally pulling down his boxers and letting his cock spring free. Nearly on his knees from the pain of needing to bury his cock inside you.

"Fuck." you mouth at the sight of it. Thick, the tip an angry shade of red as it begs for release. You clamp down around nothing as he gives it a few languid strokes before lining it up to your entrance.

It's automatic. Not something he can help. His fangs spring down from his gums when he pushes into your velvet hot cunt. Gripping him like a glove as he snarls inhumanly at the sensation and the pure relief of being inside you.

"Oh Max," you moan as he splits you open. It has been a while since you've had sex, and the feeling is almost overwhelming as your walls hug his thick cock.

Your moan makes him lose control. There's nothing slow or tender about the pace that he sets. Nothing forgiving about the way his hips slap forward to feed you his cock again. Lost to everything but the way your wails pitch up and the feeling of pleasure when you squeeze him.

His pace is relentless. Every slam of his hips making you desperately gasp for air, you grip the side of the pew with one hand and roughly squeeze your breast with the other. You're not sure if it's the haze he has you under or the pure pleasure but the words 'bite me' are lingering on the tip of your tongue.

The creaking and groaning of the pew is filling the large, acoustical space. The splintering of wood increases as the drive if his hips ramps up. Baring his teeth as he looks down at you, watching your eyes roll back and flutter. Not tiring even though a human would have already collapsed in exhaustion, Max keeps fucking you like his existence hinges on being inside you.

It's indescribable the way each thrust of his cock feels, it's like everything else in the world have ceased to exist as he fucks into you. "Don't stop," you choke out as he digs his fingernails into your hips.

It's just the permission he needs. Managing to speed up as the slapping of skin echoes throughout the church. Groaning out your name as he pushes you up the pew until you're pinned against the edge.

"I'm gonna c-" You scream, cutting yourself off as you clamp down hard around his cock. Squeezing him so tightly that you feel his pace momentarily stutter.

The force that he had to use to keep moving inside you finally cracks the base of the pew. Pulling it out of the bracket to secure it to the floor and the entire bench lurches forward. Still, he doesn't stop rocking into you, greedy to see you cum again even though you are still cumming around his cock.

You whimper beneath him as he fucks you harder and harder throughout your orgasm. Every ounce of hatred you'd ever felt for him melting as he plucks pleasure from you with nothing but ease. Each slam of his hips finding that pleasure center inside of you like it's all he's ever known.

"Fuck, fuck, of course you would be perfect." Max groans, closing his eyes as he continues to ram into you. "Fu-fuck hate me and it's the best fucking pussy l've ever had." He groans and gives into the need to kiss and lick your skin again. He knows you might struggle since his fangs are out, but he won't bite you. Not unless you wanted him to and there's not a chance in hell of that happening. "Fucking perfect."

"Bet y-you say that to all the g-girls -oh god yes - you fuck," you say with a little smirk. You're still unaware how quickly he pulled you under his spell but you're beyond caring, all you want is to feel him buried deep inside your needy pussy forever. "Cum for me, Max." 

He shakes his head, not wanting to cum just yet. "Again." He begs, ducking down and kissing your pulse, letting his fangs brush your skin. "Not until you cum again.”

"I can't," you whimper from beneath him, unsure you have the energy to come apart around his cock again.

"Yes you can." Max groans, feeling your cunt flutter around him. He pulls back and lifts your legs up onto his shoulders. "I know you can, you can give me one more."

"One more," you agree meekly, as he resumes his relentless pace. His hips slapping against you with all his might, "Oh, fuck, Max," you groan as his two of his fingers find their way to your clit and start to circle it.

"That's it baby, fuck." Max hisses, loving how your body is responding to him. The heat licking through his veins is nearly tolerable as he steadily rocks his hips at a frantic speed. "Want you to feel good. So sweet for me like this."

"Feels amazing." You softly breath out as you reach down and grab his free hand. Entwining your fingers with his as you feel yourself start to lose control again.

This time when you come apart, Max is leaning in, groaning praises to you as he watches. "Good girl, fuck, so good for me." He moans. "Soaking my cock so good, fuck you feel how wet you get?"

"So fucking wet." you murmur in response, "Just for you.” His name is all you can manage to say again as the earth shatters around you as your third orgasm is ripped from you.

A growl rumbles out of Max's chest, eyes nearly yellow as his face starts to change. Brow knitting together and turning heavy. Cheek bones growing sharper, jaw wider. Turning into a visage of the monster that he is as you clench down on his cock.

"Bite me," you beg as you feel his cock throb inside of you. "Please, Max, please.”

He wants to, his mouth is watering at the idea of biting you and tasting your sweet blood. But as needy as his body is for yours, he can't. You were compelled to let him fuck you, whatever causing it making you lose your inhibitions. Never allowing him to come near you, let alone biting you. Instead of sinking his fangs into your skin, he digs his nails in and scrapes his fangs over the area lightly, never enough to break skin.

Your pussy aches as you clamp down around him, the feeling of his teeth against your skin somehow intensifying your orgasm as you scream his name. "Please, Max," you beg, unsure what you're really begging for. "Cum for me."

Max shouts your name, his voice rough and several octaves lower from the change he's gone through. Thrusting harshly twice more before he is grinding into you, pumping you full of his useless spend with agonizing slowness. Feeling the frantic need ebbing with every pulse of his cock.

You pass out from exhaustion the second he's finished painting your walls. Delirious from the best fucking you've had in your life, you mumble a small thank you before falling into a deep slumber.

Luckily, whatever madness had come over him was extinguished with his orgasm. Reaching out and caressing your face as you are completely unaware of anything around you. He grins, knowing he's not going to be able to keep from teasing you about this when you wake up. Max pulls out of you with a soft groan, standing up and quickly collecting the clothing so he can dress both you and himself. Since you can't take care of yourself, he'll take care of you himself.

****

You wake up abruptly in an unknown bedroom to muffled yelling in the next room. Sitting up straight you immediately feel the aching sensation in your core, your pussy throbbing from the hard fucking your taken a few hours before as the hazy memories start to flood back to you.

"I don't give a fuck if your busy." Max shouts, believing that you are still passed out. "They are obviously the ones who attacked her fiancé and I don't trust them to not come after her. I want them found and staked!" 

You slowly climb out of the unfamiliar bed and make your way towards the door. Noticing that you've been dressed in one of his shirts as you do so. You creep towards the door and slowly open it.

"YES, I meant it when I said destroy them." Max growls into the phone. "They don't deserve to fucking spend another day on the earth. They attacked her. They die." He pulls the phone away from his ear and tosses it down on the counter and sighs dramatically. He had thought to take you back to your home, but then had worried that the two who had attacked you would trace you back to your place. The myth of needing permission to come in was bullshit and so he had carted you back to his place, wanting to keep you safe even though you still believed that he had attacked you.

You clear your throat as you walk towards him, "What happened last night?"

Max's head snaps towards the hallway leading to his bedroom and he finds you staring at him. "Do you want the long version or the short version?" He asks, turning towards the refrigerator that normally holds the blood bags he gets from the clinic. He had some groceries delivered while you were still out. Pulling a bottle of orange juice out and grabbing a glass from the cupboard.

"Short," you say with a shrug, slightly wincing as you lower yourself onto one of the kitchen stools.

Max can't help but smirk as you gingerly sit down. "Two vamps attacked you on your way to your car, I chased them off, you thought I was the one who tried to drink from you so you splashed Holy water in my face and I fucked you until you passed out in God's holy temple."

"Oh," is the only thing you can bring yourself to say as your fingertips tap against the glass he hands you, "Thank you for chasing them off."

Max pauses as he stretches out his hand to offer you the orange juice but he nods and sets it down in front of you. "You're welcome." He says simply. Unsure of what you are going to say now or accuse him of.

"I uh, I remember asking you to taste me," you say barely a register above a whisper, "And then the uh... the sex, but I don't remember anything about that."

"You passed out." Max puffs up with pride. "Came too much." He brags slightly. "I redressed you and carried you out to my car."

You scoff at his cockiness and roll your eyes. "Yeah sure,” you mock. "Definitely had nothing to do with the fact I was exhausted after almost being attacked AND working a 12 hour shift at a shitty bar."

"Small details." Of course you would never give him any kind of credit and he turns back towards the fridge. "Are you hungry? Since you were exhausted and attacked and worked 12 hours at a shitty bar?" He asks, looking over his shoulder.

"Kind of." You admit "But I can get going. I'm pretty sure you'd prefer not to have someone you hate in your bachelor pad."

"Stay." Max orders lightly, but there is no compulsion in his voice this time. "The vamps, the ones that attacked you, I don't - uh, they are being hunted down." He pulls out the food that had been brought and frowns. "After that, you can leave and never see me again

Taking the prepackaged sandwich from his hand you nod your head slightly, unsure what to say. "Thank you," you say with a brief smile, "For the sandwich. The shirt. And for saving my life. Just thanks."

"It's okay, sweetheart." He promises you. " I know that you aren't comfortable around me, so I'll go shower and work in my home office. You're safe here." He knocks on the counter and walks away, needing to get away from you. The urge to touch you again is too strong and he knows you wouldn't want that.

"Oh, okay," you say, unable to disguise your disappointment at him getting away at his first opportunity. "'ll go back to bed for a bit, I guess." You take another bite of the sandwich before disposing of the packaging and making your way back towards the bedroom. 

Max sighs as he strips off his clothes and steps into the shower. He wants to think that you were disappointed but he knows you are probably jumping for joy to be away from him. The compulsion to fuck because of an adverse reaction to holy water didn't mean you liked him. "Just forget about it, Phillips."

Boredom gets the better of you after a few minutes. You climb back out of bed after hearing the shower switch on. Taking this as an opportunity to look around his apartment, when curiosity becomes too much to ignore.

Max leans into the hot water, enjoying the warmth on his skin, closing his eyes as he remembers how fucking perfect you felt around him. "Shit." He hisses, knowing that you are still in the kitchen so he doesn't hesitate to wrap his hand around his cock and tug to make himself hard. Wanting to jerk off and take the edge off this need he has.”

You spend a few minutes examining his bookcase and humming in approval at his taste in literature. Some muffled sounds come from the bathroom and you take a few quiet steps and hover outside the door to see what's going on in there. And then you hear it, barely above a whisper, a grunt of your name as it becomes apparent what he's doing in there. Your clit immediately roars to life with need as your thighs clench together.

"Fuck." Max hisses, the image of you under him swirling behind his lids. "Perfect, so fucking perfect." He squeezes his cock like your cunt had, wishing that he was sinking into you rather than fucking his fist in the shower. Rocking onto the balls of his feet as he strokes his cock furiously.

Unable to pull yourself away, you stand and listen before it gets too much. You hastily unbutton his shirt and roll down your panties before reaching for the doorknob, relief that he hadn't locked it sweeping throughout you. Silently you enter the bathroom slipping unnoticed in the shower behind him. Your hand wraps around his waist and the other pulls his hand away from his throbbing cock, and you replace it with your own. Matching the same aggressive speed he was stroking himself with a few seconds before.

Max's stomach muscles coil when you touch him. So lost in the memory of last night that he hadn't even heard you come in. "Fuck." He pants out, hips jerking forward into your grip. "What- fuck, what are you doing?" He grunts, half believing that he is imagining you here.

"You want me to stop?" You ask as you tighten your grip around his cock.

"No, fuck no." He groans, leaning his head against the tile. "You - you hate me." He reminds you. "Why do you want to jerk me off?"

"Maybe I just want to edge you," you tease as you bite down onto his shoulder, "Maybe I want to feel you deep inside me again."

"You're sore." His eyes flutter closed and he jerks his hips forward. "I- you'll hurt."

"I guess you'll just have to be a little less rough this time."

"I- I have a bench." Max pants, smirking slightly. "You could ride me.”

"Mhmmm," you hum as you think about how much bigger he'd feel from that angle. "Take a seat then, Mr Phillips

It's strange how quickly you've gone from hating him to wanting him. Still, he doesn't argue, moving over to the bench and sitting down to spread his legs wide and let his hard cock rest against his stomach. "Come have a seat sweetheart." 

You don't know why you're craving him so badly, maybe it's because he still saved your sorry ass after everything, you don't know. You rest your hands on his shoulders as you straddle him, watching as he lines his cock up ready for you to sink down on him. He was right. You're sore but you push past it and get ready to feel the pleasure you know he's capable of giving.

His fingers dig into your hips, trying to keep you from going too fast. Wanting to spare you as much pain as possible "Take it easy baby." He groans. "Not too fast, I'll fuck you like you need."

"Do it then," you demand with a cheeky grin splashed across your face. "Fuck me, Max Phillips."

Max captures your chin in his hand and turns your head towards him. "Kiss me first." He challenges you. "I'll fuck you after you kiss me." Ironic since his cock is buried inside you, but he could live right here and be perfectly fine.

You raise your eyebrow in confusion at him, wondering if he's playing a game right now. And after a few moments of looking directly into those big brown eyes you give in. Your hands come up to grip either side of his head before you press your lips to his. Licking his bottom lip to gain entry before pushing your tongue inside and tasting his mouth.

Max groans, his own tongue sweeping along yours, kissing you for the first time. Sliding his hands up your back and holding you firmly as he lets you explore him, plundering your mouth in return, twitching inside you.

"Max," you moan against his lips, "Please fuck me," you beg before kissing him again and rocking your hips. Grinding slowly on him. 

He starts to move, lifting and lowering you on his cock as he continues to kiss you. Keeping it slow so you can not ache as badly right away.

Slowly you start to take control, riding him at a delicious pace, his cock brushing against that spot inside of you. Opening your eyes you see him staring intently at your face, a slight cocky grin on his face as you smash your lips up against his.

Groaning, he tightens his hold on you, leaning forward and bracing his feet on the shower floor while you bounce on his cock. Flicking his tongue inside your mouth as your tits press against him and your walls clench. "Still so good." He pants. "Tight little pussy."

You keen at his praise, loving the way you've somehow gotten under his skin as well. "You like fucking this tight little pussy, Max?" You ask as innocently as you can.

"Fuck." Max leans in and nips the skin on your collar bone. "Love it. Fucking obsessed with it. Took it so well last night."

"Why didn't you bite me?" You ask as his teeth scrape against your soft skin. "Last night... when I asked?"

Max pulls back, his eyes focused on you in a very serious moment. He knows he's a dick, that he comes across as careless, but the majority of that is a facade. "I- I was... projecting my compulsion last night." He admits. “I couldn't stop it. Whatever reaction to that holy water was, it was making you want to fuck me, and I needed to be inside you. But..." he grips your hips harder and relaxes his hold on you to caress the skin. "Biting you was something I thought you would never want. And I - I didn't want you to hate me more than you already did."

"Oh," you say, resuming the soft rocking of your hips, "I uh-I don't hate you. It's just tough for me... I know you don't understand."

"I wasn't always a vampire." Max reminds you, his human days still not too far away that he doesn't remember them. "And maybe you can move on when the vampires who killed your fiancé are destroyed."

"Mhmm," you reply before pressing your lips to his, kissing him long and hard, before playfully teasing him, "Thought you were going to make me cum, Mr Phillips?"

The serious moment has passed it seems and Max groans. Starting to move faster now that you are opened up and not wincing when you are filled with him.

You see the disappointment in his eyes when you change the subject, but something tells you that having a serious conversation when he's buried deep inside your needy pussy isn't the smartest of ideas.

You bounce up and down on his length, the angle making you cry out in pleasure with every slam of hips against you. You feel your walls start to flutter against him and know that you're seconds away from falling off the edge.

"God you're so desperate for it." Max chuckles, deciding if you want him to fuck you, that's what you're going to get. He lets one hand slide out and slap your tit before his thumb presses against your clit. "If I had know that, I would have just kept fucking you while you were passed out. Kept you speared on my cock all night."

"Should have," you choke out with a sob, "Fuck.. Could have woken me up with your fat cock this morning."

Max twitches inside you, enjoying the small gasp and the way your nails dig into his skin. He thrusts up to bounce you harder on him. "I'll remember that." He groans. 

"I bet you will," you say with a giggle as you start to grind down harder on him, desperate to fall off that edge and come undone on his cock.

Now all he can hear is the water of the shower and the desperate little sounds you make in the back of your throat. Urging him on and making him rock his hips up faster. "You gonna cum again?" He demands, not growling but his voice is deeper.

"Yes." Every thrust of his cock is harder than the one before, slamming against paradise as his deft fingers continue to play with your bundle of nerves. "Feel... Feel so good, Max," you murmur over and over until you're unable to speak. The only sounds slipping from your tongue are broken moans and sobs as you're thrown spectacularly into another earth shattering orgasm.

Max could keep going, maybe he should since you seem to be the softest towards him when he's buried in your cunt, but he doesn't want to hurt you. Aware that humans have limits to what their bodies can take, Max tightens his hold on your trembling body as he quickens his thrusts to chase his own orgasm. 

"Fill me up," you plead as he starts to throb inside of you, "Want you to drip out of me for the rest of the day."

Max hisses, baring his teeth, though his fangs aren't showing. Thrusts steadily getting sloppier until he is crushing you to him, cock planted as deep as he can go as he spills inside you.

"God," you moan with a giggle, "So the secret to shutting Max Phillips up is pussy. Good to know."

Max smirks and winks. "I can multitask if needed." He leans back against the shower wall and relaxes, enjoying the way you shift forward with him.

You let your head forward and nestle your face against his neck, giving yourself a few minutes to catch your breath, before a loud ringing makes him shoot upright. Pushing you off of him before he climbs out of the shower.

Max walks through his apartment, completely unconcerned with the water dripping off of him as he speeds towards his phone. "Yeah." He demands as he answers it.

You step out of the shower and wrap yourself in one of the towels from the rack, standing awkwardly behind him as he takes the call.

"Both of them?" Max frowns into the phone before he grins. "Good. Thanks. Now make sure that the legal report is completed by Monday."

"Who was that?" You ask sheepishly from behind him.

"Arnold. From legal." Max smirks happily as he drops the phone back down on the counter and looks at you, "if you're going to have vampires destroyed, have the lawyers do it. They are used to getting messy."

"So, they're dead? The vampires who killed my Jake are gone?" You ask, needing to hear it again.

"Dead." Max confirms with a nod. "I heard them talk about him right before they attacked you."

"Dead," you repeat quietly. Unsure why it doesn't feel as good as you'd imagined it would feel. Maybe it's because it would never bring him back to you. "I should go then, I'll get out of your hair."

Max opens his mouth to protest but then he shuts it, knowing that you don't need a vampire around you to process. "Sure, sweetheart." He nods, shuttering his expression. "I went back and got your car, so it's here. Your clothes are in the dryer."

"Thanks," you say, “I uh, I appreciate that you saved me last night and I'm sorry for assuming the worst in you." You give him a small smile before making your way towards the dryer and collecting your things. Dressing as quickly as you can and sneaking out of his apartment without another word.

Max hears the click of the door and closes his eyes. Not understanding why you hating him has him pouting like he's lost a toy. Of course you don't want anything to do with him. He had only been able to touch you because he had compelled you. "Move on, Phillips. Don't let it bother you." Still, for a long time after you have gone, he wonders why he can't stop thinking about how you looked when you smiled at him.

The drive back to your apartment is quick, no mid morning traffic to keep you wallowing in the confused feelings clouding up your mind. The second you're inside you lock the door behind you and run yourself a hot bath, being a little too generous with the epsom salts in the process and stripping yourself down. The ache he left in your core is throbbing and you take two Advil to settle the soreness before climbing into the bath. Your mind drifts back to the previous night in the church and how your body was so receptive to everything he did to you. And despite the fact you know he was projecting his needs onto you, you can't help but think about how you still could have refused him but didn't. And on top of that you followed him into the shower earlier, desperate to feel him in your hands as you pumped his rock hard cock and felt yourself dripping from touching him alone.

Has he gotten under your skin? No. You shake the thought away. There is no way that you like Max Phillips. Absolutely not.

****

He almost calls you, or stops by your apartment. He knows where you live, but he doesn't. You hadn't said a word to him when you left and it spoke volumes of how you wanted to proceed. Instead, Max shuffles through applications for the sales position you had vacated, not finding anyone he wanted to hire to take your place.

It's been three days since you saw Max and you hadn't been able to bring yourself to complete another bar shift. Instead you wake up early and dress yourself as nicely but professionally as you can and make your way back to your old work building. Taking a few moments outside before gathering the strength to go inside and ask for another chance. With your head held high you walk towards your ex-bosses office and knock the door a few times and wait to be invited in.

"Yeah-" Max looks up from the report he had been reading and freezes when he sees you standing in the doorway. "What-" he stands quickly and motions you inside, frowning in confusion when he sees the smart professional outfit you are wearing. "What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping I could apply for my old job," you say with a sigh. "I just can't afford to live without it."

Max eyebrow ticks up in surprise and he holds his hand out for you to sit in the chair opposite him. "I take it that you would rather not?" He asks, oddly hurt by how resigned you sound.

"I would like my job back," you say with a bit more enthusiasm, "It's just not easy having to ask, ya know?"

Max knows that swallowing your pride is difficult and he can't seem to tease you like he might have before. "Are you going to be able to work for me?" He asks.

"Are you going to tell everyone about what happened?" You ask, feeling your cheeks burn.

"No." Max shakes his head. He hadn't said a word about what had actually happened that night. It was a memory he wanted to keep for himself.

"I just don't want people accusing me of sleeping with to get my job back," you say quietly. "I don't want you to think that either."

Max snorts and sends you an ironic grin. "You and I both know that if it hadn't been for that night, you would have never let me touch you." He spreads his hands out over the resumes that have been lackluster. "I haven't hired anyone for the position."

You laugh at his admission, "You say that as though you would have touched me if I didn't throw holy water at you. And good... So, can I have my job back?"

He's frustrated that you still believe that he has some grudge against you. Leaning back and shaking his head. "Not until you tell me why you think I hate you." He demands. "What reason? What did I do that said that?"

"You hovered over me your entire first day? You made it clear you didn't think I was capable of my job, Max." You sigh. "Look if you'd rather I didn't get my job back that's fine, I haven't quit at the bar yet."

"Oh. Seriously?" Max leans back and shakes his head. "I hovered because you consistently had good numbers. I wanted to see what you were doing differently from the other morons." He rolls his eyes and shrugs. "Then when I saw you didn't like me, I pushed your buttons. I'm an asshole like that. But I never thought you weren't capable of doing your job."

"It was raw." You pull at your sleeve and look down at your lap. "Jake's death wasn't taken seriously, it was just treated like something that was inevitable because we live in a community with vampires. It was hard for me, and you didn't have any issues hiding what you were, not that I think you should. And I'm sorry."

Max shakes his head, aware that he's had some relaxed attitudes about his kind, but he understands where you are coming from. "I'm sorry they didn't treat your fiance's death like it mattered." He hums quietly. "Now, go down to IT, get your logins sorted and i'll deal with HR. I've been sitting on your paperwork anyway." He shrugs causally. "You actually just were on unpaid leave, but since you're back, we can change it to paid."

"Thank you, Mr Phillips. I really appreciate this." It doesn't take long for IT to get you up and running again and you're happy to see that your desk hadn't been cleared out and was still set up how you like it. The rest of the morning is spent taking calls and booking a few big trips.

He makes sure that he doesn't venture too close to you, wanting to make sure you settle in and get back into the routine without him 'hovering'. He has a few performance reviews, changes Phil in accounting and has a snack off the temp secretary, Brenda. Typing up an excerpt in a file when the 5PM alarm sounds and everyone starts to clock out and go home for the night.

The rush around you makes you laugh as you decide to stay and rifle through the emails you'd missed over the last week just to get all caught up. Once everyone's gone and the room has cleared you pick up your coffee cup and make your way to the break room to grab a cup of coffee.

There aren't many nights when Max isn't the only one in the office, the vamps are going out to have fun and the humans are all just ready to go home. He hears someone in the break room and gets up to go investigate.

You hum along to the radio still playing quietly overhead, the cleaners will switched it off later this evening but it's nice to have it on whilst you're all alone. You sway your hips whilst filling up your mug and enjoy having your pick of the cookies without someone trying to grab the best ones.

Max smirks, leaning in the doorway and watching you for a moment. "Happy to be back, huh?"

"Oh shit," you say with a jump, spilling half your coffee over your blouse, "Fuck, I'm so sorry! I thought I was alone.”

Max chuckles and shakes his head. "I'm enjoying the show." He tells you with a smirk, imagining you naked dancing.

"Mhmm," you say as you blot the burning hot coffee on your now very see-through blouse. You giggle before throwing the cloth at him, "Glad I can entertain you."

Max huffs and snatched the rag. "You didn't burn yourself did you? Don't want a workman's comp claim." He winks at you because he's teasing.

"I'm about to go call my lawyer this minute," you tease back, "Going to take you for everything you have." 

"Well damn." He snaps his fingers and pouts. "Don't know what I will do. Maybe I can kiss it and make it better?"

You know you shouldn't be doing this here, but you can't deny the dynamic between you both has changed. And you've been craving him every second since you left his apartment a few days earlier. "That could work."  You take a few steps towards him and bite down on your lip. "But wouldn't you rather I do the other thing? Seeing as the other night you kept telling me how good I am at taking it all." 

Immediately, Max's cock starts to harden, his teasing grin becoming a bit more lusty. "You want to step into my office, sweetheart? Work overtime?"

"Kiss me first," you order, copying his request from a few days earlier.

Smirking, Max grabs your arms and pulls you down into a low dip that makes you gasp. Tilting you down like the romantic movies of old, his kiss is anything but. His tongue promises nothing but pleasure as he licks through your mouth and pulls you upright again. "Step into my office, right now sweetheart." He growls.

"Fuck," you mouth as he starts to walk towards his office, you follow closely behind on shaky legs. "Am I really about to let you rail me in your office?"

"Yes you are." Max smugly turns in the doorway and motions for you to enter in front of him. "Because you know how good it feels and you want more."

"I remember it being... just okay," you tease, unable to stop yourself from riling him up a little. "Come on then, Phillips. I do not need the cleaners to see this."

Max snorts and closes the door behind him, clicking the lock although he knows the cleaning crew won't just walk into his office. "Happy now? All alone."

Without saying a word you walk around his desk and take a seat on his chair, starting to unbutton your ruined blouse and dropping it on the floor before removing your pants.

He watches, admiring the view and the change of attitude towards him. The last time you had been in this office besides today, you had been angry and argumentative but now..... He smirks. "Get on my desk and spread your legs for me baby."

"Yes, Sir," you say with a smile, still wearing your underwear.

You stand up and take a seat on his desk directly in front of his chair and spread your legs as commanded.

He rolls his eyes and huffs as he shrugs the jacket off his shoulders and moves towards you. "Still such a brat." He grins. "Wanna throw holy water at me again?"

"Do you need it, old man?" You say as you start to unbutton his shirt. "Is that the vampire version of a little blue pill?"

His grin drops into a pout and he blows a raspberry at you. "I don't need a little blue pill. Ever."

"Shut the fuck up and fuck me, Phillips." You say with a roll of your eyes. "I'd like to get out of here tonight."

"So a quickie?" Max nods and unzips his pants. "That can happen. Even more than you realize." He chuckles. "Turn over. I'm gonna fuck you from behind."

You roll your eyes at the thought of him fucking someone else in here and slowly turn around, "Fuck me then."

"Ohhhh, someone's not happy." He coos, reaching out and slapping your ass. "Why is that, baby?"

"You're taking too long." You lie before rubbing up against him. "It's been days. I need to feel you again."

"Impatient." Max smirks and pulls out his cock to pump it a few times before he shuffles closer and kicks your feet apart so he slides his cock through your folds. "You feel so goddamn good." He hisses at your wetness.

The noise that you make as hell drags his cock through your folds is drenched in sin. You don't want him to stop teasing you but you can't take another second of him not being buried inside of you. "Please, Max."

Instead of easing inside you this time, he decides to notch himself as your dripping entrance and snaps his hips forward and buries his cock deep in one, rough thrust.

The wind is knocked out of you as he fills your tight little cunt. Your walls immediately gripping onto his fat cock as you attempt to catch your breath before he starts to move.

"Feel better sweetheart?" Max coos in your ear, enjoying the way you can barely cry out and he kisses behind your ear before he starts moving at a harsh pace.

Unable to form a coherent sentence, you simply nod. Gripping harshly onto the wooden desk as he relentlessly pounds in and out of you. Fucking you hard and fast without a care in the world.

"Yeah, you feel better." He answers his own question as he snaps his hips forward again and again. Rattling the pen cup on his desk and making it shake. "Should- should just make you sit on my cock all day at work."

You hate how you react to that immediately clamping down around the length of him and gasping at the thought of it. "Fuck," you barely croak out as you start to move your hips.

"That's it baby." Max's body crowds you, wraps around you as he fills you again and again. "Let me know how it feels."

"So good," you murmur into the desk. "You feel so fucking good. Too good."

"Never too good." He kisses along your neck and presses his tongue to your pulse. "Never too good, baby. You feel so fucking perfect around my cock. You like it? Getting fucked by a vampire?"

"Nope, I just think I like you fucking me." you say as he hits something glorious inside of you, "Fuck, just there Max," you plead.

Max hums, approving of your answer and concentrating on replicating the angle that makes your toes curl and your cunt clench.

"Make me cum," you start to beg as his thrusts continue to knock the wind out of you, "Let me soak that fat cock."

"Fuck you know how to talk to me." Max groans, sliding his hands up to pinch your nipples while he fucks you into the desk.

You gasp at his harsh treatment of your nipples but he can feel the way it makes you clamp down around him, "Fucking love that big fat cock."

Max chuckles. "So what you are saying is that when you start getting mouthy, I should just shove my cock in it?"

"Maybe. Maybe I'll just sit on your face every time you start to be an annoying asshole."

"Now that's just going to make me be more of an asshole." Max teases, leaning in and biting your shoulder, without the fangs.

"Yeah?" You moan as his teeth graze your neck, "Is that what you need, baby? Need me to sit this tight little pussy on that handsome face of yours?" The position he has you in makes it difficult for you to move, his body boxing yours against his big desk. All you can do is clamp your walls down around him.

"Fuck yes." Max groans. "Especially when you're on your period."

"Fuck." The men you'd been with before refused to touch you during your period, and the idea of him using his mouth on you whilst your bleeding almost sends you over the cliff at that moment.

"Yeah ..you like that." Max huffs in your ear. "You can sit that little bleeding cunt on my mouth all day. I'll just lick you clean until you can't take another orgasm."

"Oh fuck." Your thighs start to shake as he pushes you close to the edge, the way his cock hammers into your g-spot paired with the filth he whispers into your ears is too much. You let go with a breathy moan of his name and everything goes black. Pleasure coursing through your veins.

You cumming around him is something that Max wants to experience every day. You get so tight and wet. Making him snarl out your name as the wet slaps of his cock drilling into you ramp up so he can cum.

You lay against his desk, unable to move as you come down slowly. Waiting to feel him fill you up, the sound of sick slapping against skin bounces off the walls as you lay there in your blissed out haze.

It takes another dozen thrust before Max is cumming, scraping the desk across the carpeted floor as he buries his cock deep, groaning happily as he fills you again. "Thank god my seed is dead." He jokes. "Because I would have definitely just got you pregnant."

You giggle before pushing yourself up a little, his softening cock still buried deep inside of you as you look over your shoulder. "That was incredible. Fuck. How am I supposed to sit a few feet away from your office and fight the urge to come in and ride you everyday?"

"Don't." Max smirks. "Or come over every night to ride it."

"You'd get sick of the sight of me, or start fucking other people as well." He slowly pulls himself out of you and you stand upright on slightly shaky legs before turning around to face him, "And I don't share."

Max snorts and lifts a brow. "Who says I share?" He asks. "If you want it to be causal, that's fine. If you want more...." He tucks himself away and zips up. "Let me know."

You can't help but raise an eyebrow at him as you reach for your panties. "Didn't peg you as the kind of guy that's interested in more?"

Max rolls his eyes and grabs your arm, dragging you close. Your squeal of surprise is masked by his mouth covering yours less than a second later in a needy kiss.

He kisses you for ages, pressing himself against you as his mouth dominates yours in a messy battle. A week ago you wouldn't have dreamed about kissing him but you feel a stab of sadness in your chest at the thought of never kissing him again. You slowly break free of the kiss and rest your forehead against his, "I want more."

"Good." He murmurs softly. "I want more too."

"Good." You finish getting yourself dressed as he tidies up the mess you've made on his desk. "So where do we go from here?"

Max flashes you a grin. "That's up to you, sweetheart. But let's get take out, I'm starving." He chuckles. "How does Chinese sound?"

"As long as you're paying," you say before reaching out for him to take your hand. "Let's go."

****

"What do you want, baby? Hmmmm?" Max kisses as licks along your neck while you grind your hips down on him. One year later, you are still wanting to be with him, which surprises and delights Max. His own need and connection to you grew to the point where he had asked you to give up your apartment since you were always over at his anyway. Living together, or rather, cohabitating since he technically wasn't alive.

"You know what I want, asshole," you say with a groan. He's still a massive tease after a year and loves nothing more than making you beg. "I love you, Max Phillips, I want to spend an eternity with you. Bite me."

"Hmmm, I swear if my heart was still beating it would flutter." He muses, actually really touched by you wanting to become a vampire when you had hated all creatures of the night when he first met you. His nose bumps your pulse. "Are you sure baby?" He pulls back and looks into your eyes seriously. "There's no changing your mind if I do it."

"Yeah? Would I have THE Max Phillips swooning?" You say with a slight poke of his shoulder. "Yes. I am sure. You promised you'd help me and make sure I don't hurt anyone and I trust that you'll do that... Plus I've grown accustomed to that annoyingly handsome face of yours."

"I am handsome, aren't I?" Max preens and grins at you smugly, laughing when you roll your eyes at him. "I love you, baby." He promises, just as serious as he had been when he cautioned you.

"Eh, you're okay." You giggle. "I love you, Max." You press your lips against his and give him a reassuring nod that this is what you want.

"Okay." Max presses his lips to yours one last time as a human. "Close your eyes, baby." He tilts your head to the side and licks your pulse one last time, letting his fangs spring down from his gums. "Let me show you a whole new world." Opening his mouth wide, Max sinks his fangs into your jugular and moans, finally getting to do what he wanted to nearly a year ago when you had flung holy water in his face. Make you his for eternity.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Down in the (link)dumps

On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine. On October 2, I'll be in Boise to host an event with VE Schwab.

Back when I was writing on Boing Boing, I'd slam out 10-15 blog posts every day, short hits that served as signpost and public notebook, but I rarely got into longer analysis of the sort I do daily now on Pluralistic. Both modes are very useful for organizing one's thoughts, and indeed, they complement each other:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

The problem is that when you write long, synthetic essays, they crowd out the quick hits. Back in May 2022, I started including three short links with each edition of Pluralistic, in a section called "Hey look at this" (thanks to Mitch Wagner for suggesting it!):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/01/reit-modernization-act/#linkdump

But even with that daily linkdump, I still manage to accumulate link-debt, as interesting things pile up, not rising to the level of a long blog-post, but not so disposable as to be easy to flush. When the pile gets big enough, I put out a Saturday Linkdump:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

All of which is to say, it's Saturday, and I've got a linkdump!

First up, a musical interlude. I've been listening to DJ Earworm's amazing mashups since 2005 and while I've got dozens of tracks that shuffle in and out of my daily playlist, the one that makes me wanna get up and dance every time is "No One Takes Your Freedom," a wildly improbable banger composed of equal parts Aretha Franklin, The Beatles, George Michael and Scissor Sisters:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JaboIeW1A_4

I defy you to play that one without bopping a little. I think it's the French horn from "For No One" that really kills it, the world's least expected intro to a heavy dance beat.

Moving swiftly on: let's talk about fonts. I remember when Wired magazine first showed up at the bookstores I was working at in Toronto, and my bosses – younger men than I am now! – complained that the tiny, decorative fonts, rendered in silver foil on a purple background, was illegible. I laughed at them, batting my young eyes and devouring the promise of a better future with ease, even in dim light.

Now it's thirty years later and I'm half-blind. Both my my decaying, aging eyes are filmed with cataracts that I'm too busy to get removed (though my doc promises permanent 20:20, perfect night-vision, and implanted bifocals when I can spare a month from touring with new books to get 'em fixed).

Which is to say: I spend a lot more time thinking about legibility now than I did in the early 1990s, and I've got a lot more sympathy for those booksellers' complaints about Wired's aggressively low-contrast design today. I'm forever on the hunt for fonts designed for high legibility.

This week, Kottke linked to B612, a free/open font family "designed for aircraft cockpit screens," commissioned by Airbus. It's got all the bells and whistles (e.g. hinting) and comes in variable and monospace faces:

https://b612-font.com/

B612 arrived at a fortuitous moment, coinciding with a major UI overhaul in Thunderbird, the app I spend the second-most time in (I spend more time in Gedit, the bare-bones text-editor that comes with Ubuntu, the flavor of GNU/Linux I use). A previous Thunderbird UI experiment had made all the UI text effectively unreadable for me, causing me to dive deep into the infinitely configurable settings to sub in my own fonts:

http://kb.mozillazine.org/UserChrome.css

The new UI is much better, but it broke all my old tweaks, so I went back into those settings and switched everything to B612, and it's amazeballs. I tried doing the same in Gedit, but B612 mono was too light for my shitty eyes, so I went back to Jetbrains Mono, another free/open font that has 8 weights to choose from:

https://www.jetbrains.com/lp/mono/

Love me a new, legible font! Meanwhile, a note for all you designers: the received wisdom that black on white type is "hard on the eyes" is a harmful myth. Stop with the grey-on-white type, for the love of all that is holy. This isn't 1992, you aren't laying out type for Wired Issue 1.0. Contrast is good, actually.

Continuing on the subject of software updates: Mastodon, the free, open, federated social media platform that anyone can host and that lets you hop between one server and another with just a couple clicks, has released a major update, focusing on usability, especially for people unfamiliar with its conventions:

https://blog.joinmastodon.org/2023/09/mastodon-4.2/

Included in this fix: a major overhaul to how you interact with posts on servers other than your home server. This was both confusing and clunky, and the fix makes it much better. They've also changed how sign-up flow works, making things simpler for newbies, and they've cleaned up the UI, tweaking threads, web previews and other parts of the daily experience.

There's also a lot of changes to search, but search still remains less than ideal, with multi-server search limited to hashtags. This is bad, actually. Thankfully, we don't have to wait for Mastodon devs to decide to fix it, because Mastodon is free and open, which means anyone with the skills to code a change, or the money to pay techies to do it, or the moral force to convince them to do it, can effect that change themselves:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/23/semipermeable-membranes/

Case in point: Mastoreader, a great new thread reader for Mastodon:

https://mastoreader.io/

Every time that guy who owns Twitter breaks it even worse, a new cohort of users sign up. Not all of them stay, but the growth is steady and the trendline is solid:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/11/of-course-mastodon-lost-users/

It's the right call: while there are other services that promise that they will be federated someday, promises are easy, and there's world of difference between "federateable" and "federated." As GW Bush told us, "Fool me twice, we don't get fooled again":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/06/fool-me-twice-we-dont-get-fooled-again/

One big difference between the kind of blogging I used to do in my Boing Boing days and the long-form work I do today is the graphics. When you're posting 10-15 times/day, you can't make each graphic a standout (or at least, I can't). But I can (and do) devote substantial time to making a single collage out of public domain and Creative Commons graphics every day:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/25/a-year-in-illustration/

I am not a visual person – literally, I can barely see! – but my daily art practice has slowly made me a less-terrible illustrator. I got in some good licks this week, like this graphic for the UAW's new "Eight-and-Skate" work-to-rule program:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/21/eight-and-skate/#strike-to-rule

That graphic was fun because all the elements were from the public domain, or fair use. I love it when that happens. I've spent years amassing a bulging folder of public domain clip art ganked from the web and this week, it got a major infusion, thanks to the Bergen Public Library's Flickr album of high-rez scans of antique book endpapers. 86 public domain textures? Yes please! (Also, the fact that Flickr has one-click download of all the hi-rez versions of every image in a photoset is another way that it stands out as a remnant of the old, good web, not so much a superannuated relic as an elegant weapon of a more civilized age):

https://www.flickr.com/photos/bergen_public_library/albums/72157633827993925

Speaking of strikes: there are strikes! Everygoddamnedwhere! After 40 years in a Reagan-induced coma, labor is back, baby. The Cornells School of Industrial and Labor Relations' Labor Action Tracker is your go-to, real-time observation post as hot labor summer turns into the permanent revolution. As of this writing, it's listing 968 labor actions in 1491 locations:

https://striketracker.ilr.cornell.edu

There's no war but class war and it was ever thus. Brian Merchant's forthcoming book Blood In the Machine is a history of the Luddites, revisiting that much-maligned labor uprising, which has been rewritten as a fight between technophobes and the inevitable forces of progress:

https://www.littlebrown.com/titles/brian-merchant/blood-in-the-machine/9780316487740/

The book unearths the true history of the Ludds: they were skilled technologists who were outraged by capital's commitment to immiseration, child slavery, and foisting inferior goods on a helpless public. You can get a long preview of the book in Fast Company:

https://www.fastcompany.com/90949827/what-the-luddites-can-teach-us-about-standing-up-to-big-tech

Merchant also talked with Roman Mars about the book on the 99 Percent Invisible podcast:

https://99percentinvisible.org/episode/blood-in-the-machine/transcript/

If that's piqued your interest and if you can make it to Los Angeles, come by Chevalier's Books this Wednesday, where Brian and I are having a joint book-launch (I've just published The Internet Con, my Luddite-adjacent "Big Tech Disassembly Manual"):

https://www.eventbrite.com/o/chevaliers-books-8495362156

Where is all this labor unrest coming from? Well as Stein's Law has it, "anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop." 40 years of corporate-friendly political economy has lit the world on fire and immiserated billions, and we've hit bottom and started the long, slow climb to a world that prioritizes human thriving over billionaire power.

One of the most tangible expressions of that vibe shift is the rise and rise of antitrust. The big news right now is the (first) trial of the century, Google's antitrust trial. What's that? You say you haven't heard anything about it? Well, perhaps that has to do with the judge banning recording and livestreaming and not making transcripts available. Don't worry, he's also locking observers out of his courtroom for hours at a time during closed testimony. Oh, and also? The DoJ just agreed that it won't post its exhibits from the trial online anymore. You can follow what dribbles of information as are emerging from our famously open court system at US v Google:

https://usvgoogle.org/trial-update-9-22

If the impoverished trickle of Google antitrust news has you down, don't despair, there's more coming, because the FTC is apparently set to drop its long-awaited suit against Amazon:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/ftc-poised-sue-amazon-antitrust-163432081.html

Amazon spent years blowing hundreds of millions of dollars of its investors' cash, selling goods below cost and buying up rivals until it became the most important channel for every kind of manufacturer to reach their customers. Now, Amazon is turning the screws. A new report from the Institute for Local Self-Reliance details the 45% Amazon Tax that every merchant pays to reach you:

https://ilsr.org/AmazonMonopolyTollbooth-2023/

That 45% tax is passed on to you – whether or not you shop at Amazon. Amazon's secretive most favored nation terms mean that if a seller raises their price on Amazon, they have to raise it everywhere else, which means you're paying more at WalMart and Target because of Amazon's policies.

Those taxes are bad for us, but they're good for Amazon's investors. This year, the company stands to make $185 billion from junk-fees charged to platform sellers. As David Dayen points out, Amazon charges so much to ship third-party sellers' goods that it fully subsidizes Amazon's own shipping:

https://prospect.org/power/2023-09-21-amazons-185-billion-pay-to-play-system/

That's right: as Stacy Mitchell writes in the report, "Amazon doesn’t have to build warehousing and shipping costs into the price of its own products, because it’s found a way to get smaller online sellers to pay those costs."

Now, one of the amazing things about antitrust coming back from the grave is that just the threat of antitrust enforcement can moderate even the most vicious bully's conduct. Faced with the looming FTC case, Amazon just canceled its plan to charge even more junk fees:

https://www.reuters.com/legal/amazon-drops-planned-merchant-fee-ftc-lawsuit-looms-bloomberg-news-2023-09-20/

But despite this win, Amazon is still speedrunning the enshittification cycle. The latest? Unskippable ads in Prime Video:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2023-09-22/amazon-prime-video-content-to-include-ads-staring-early-2024

Remember when Amazon promised you ad-free video if you'd lock yourself into shopping with them by pre-paying for a year's shipping with Prime? The company has fully embraced the Darth Vader MBA: "I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it further."

That FTC case can't come a moment too soon.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/23/salmagundi/#dewey-102

[jessaerys]

five hyperspecific near headcanons?

(THIS IS SO LONG SORRY. YOU KNOW WHAT I AM!!!!)

gonna take headcanons here to mean “stuff that is entirely not canon” so these are (varying levels of unfounded) personal canonverse facts i’ve come up with as i write him: 

i.

has special interest in space / cosmology / astrophysics / astrobiology / space exploration etc etc etc. (extremely self indulgent of me but i love to have fun) it used to be very all-consuming when he was little and not afraid to want things. 

it was eventually demoted to the backseat as his focus shifted towards his studies so by the time we meet him in canon it has been fully repressed into something he considers childish (though i’d like to think he found an excuse [perhaps through a case] to keep correspondence going with the brightest minds at the SETI institute and they have ocassional videocalls where he pokes holes in their theories on the origins of life he insists it is simply mantaining connections that may one day prove relevant. it is a productive use of my time agent gevanni do not question my methodology) 

when i think of near i think of saint-exupéry’s the little prince and his watercolor illustrations of a little boy on a little round planet -- actually, a lil exerpt:

near is very little-prince coded in his curiosity and love for humanity and golden heartedness and deep mysterious melancholy – he is sad and he doesn’t know he is sad!! to be a cosmonaut is to be an observer, unmoored from the world, not quite of this earth. which actually leads me to,

ii.

he is from nowhere/belongs to no-one/ has no past and no land to return to.

he was in a couple different orphanages since he was a newborn and any paperwork he could’ve had got lost in the shuffle: it was roger who named him nate river just to have something on the records; his oldest memories are from wammy’s, the first person he ever loved was L, there’s never been anything else for him.

i know “has no racial identity” seems like a cop-out but i actually find it interesting to set him up so that he is unlinked from such a basic experience of community in modern society. because of his albinism there isn’t even a melanin scale to point him in the right direction; his looks are very racially ambiguous (ie. 3a/3b curls, very slight/partial double eyelids, etc), his parents untraceable. if he ever took a dna test it would confirm a thoroughly mixed background of many different ethnicities due to european immigration – but he has never taken a dna test because it would mean he cares which means he would have to think about what other people have and he doesn’t which would mean mourning a loss. and there is no use having feelings about that which he cannot change; no use looking back. mello looks back, and look where that's landed him--

(tangent: in contrast mello’s troubled background in the wartorn balkans until he was relatively older (5-6) and his reconnection with his birthplace in croatia after he left wammy’s is a crucial and defining pillar of his identity (personal canonverse courtesy of local mello phd haver @firebuggg) so this is yet another contrast between them. but we do not have time to get into that)

(tangent number 2:

L to mello in private: why does it matter? the war is behind you. looking back slows you down

L to near also in private: how can a detective know anything if he doesn’t first know himself?

near and mello ages 5 and 7, in their minds: i am the only one who understands L)

actually near's john silver slay is thee most important characterization touchstone for me tbh whenever people give him a backstory it just weirds me the fuck out

what do you mean he remembers his mother that would mean being An Individual and Not A Child Soldier !!!! he is wammy's perfect little grooming blank slate thank you very much

iii.

as a baby he was SO cute SO round SO feral. beautiful glowing cherubic marmalade-eyed biting screaming wildchild. wary as a cat with a talent for finding hiding spots inside the walls and so very autistic. an enfant terrible!! this is possibly why he moved through so many foster homes before wammys. 

for a couple of years until age, like, 5, the only people he felt comfortable enough around to speak to in coherent words were L and later mello* 

his method of communication with the rest of the teachers / caregivers / other children was opening his mouth and unleashing the most terrible banshee shriek a 3-4-5 year old could unleash upon god's green earth

through the rest of their childhood known annoyingest older brother on earth mihael "mello" kheel was ocassionally able to figure out how to unlock a Near Nuclear Meltdown, though it was a very rare occurrence as soon enough near graduated to going stiff and heavy on the floor wherever they tried to make him do something he did not want to do. and good luck getting him to move without lifting him corpse deadweight style. garden. hallway. classroom floor. middle of the stairs. he is and has always been a willful little thing !!!!!!!!!

i'm protected under the awning of this readmore so this is My City Now here are some exerpts courtesy of @firebuggg and yours truly

(sequential)

(not sequential)

*(unfortunately, this meant he was accidentally straight up accidentally twilightzoning mello for at least two years after being introduced to each other because what mello kept hearing was [functionally mute kid who usurped your number one spot, exclusively when nobody is around to hear it]: No One Will Ever Believe You) 

iv.

this one’s kind of stupid but i think it’d be funny if wammy’s DOES adopt kids out occasionally possibly from the bottom half of the L successor ranking in order to keep the facade of being an orphanage and not an unethical human child experiment (perhaps to wealthy people who want to skip the bureaucracy of going through the proper channels. you know how it is) (it also makes such a good boogeyman: if you don't get in the bath roger will give you out for adoption !!!!!!)

anyway once feral baby near escaped containment when there were prospective parents over browsing the (available) children and a couple was completely charmed with him and they, as is the fashion of wealthy people to do whatever the fuck they want, took him out for a lovely walk/car ride/park visit/ice-cream sundae, all sunny and warm and sitting on the young woman’s lap, getting loved on, hearing, “would you like to come live with us little one?” 

when they bring near back they are informed that unfortunately near is very much NOT up for adoption (someone definitely gets fired over that one) (dfsddfsdjfdfj)

this gets LEGENDARILY joked about by mello and matt and their popular kids entourage until they leave wammys. this definitely did not give near any complexes whatsoever

anyway once when the three of them are adults it comes up when they’re in the middle of joking around and it triggers yet another round of relentless Unadoptable Near teasing until matt and mello drive the joke right into the ground where it wheezes a last breath into an increasingly awkward silence as they Realize,

v.

ok lighting round:

had L survived as near grew into his teens they WOULD have had an EXTREMELY contentious mother-daughter relationship

much like mello he too has a deep well of unaddressed (repressed) rage within him (like sam winchester. sorry for bringing supernatural into this)

people often write that near only eats bland/white(?) foods but i think being vegan suits him also it's funny as hell. not out of any ideological motivation he was just an extremely picky eater and also do you think that frail body could handle meat. if he could get away with it all he would it is raw fruits and vegetables (chopped into small cubes)(note: this is not bland, just insane)(it’s the scampering rabbit in him) 

extremely at risk of developing a smoking habit. that boy can fit so much tension in his little body do you think his developing teenage brain would not immediately latch onto the treacherous instant clarity and peace of nicotine

5. did i mention repression. did i mention the absolute terror that seizes him at the thought of experiencing desire/hunger/longing/want. if you made it this far have a reward:

[gorogues]

I was looking up the Rogues for some writing. When I remembered Trickster and the mind altering stuff that did him dirty. Is this scene the one where Trickster is reverted back to his “original” because of Top. Cause if it is. I don’t think it is. I think Top believed that he undid his own work but what he actually did was mess up Trickster even more.

“He’ll never help anyone but himself.”

I feel like that right there is Top pushing his own views on what Trickster should actually be and the not Trickster himself.🧐

That's one way of interpreting it, and it's certainly a valid one, though we may never know what Johns intended unless he elaborates.

Without any word-of-the-author explaining what he meant, I think it comes down to whether one wants to be charitable to James, or to Roscoe…and I know that most people would rather be charitable to James (he's got tons more fans). And Roscoe's my favourite and I like to defend him against fan hostility so I probably lean towards being charitable to him 🤷

Here's the thing: Roscoe is frequently a huge dickhead, especially in the modern era. But James has also had some real dickhead moments, and I'm not talking about the OOC garbage that was Countdown or the questionable shenanigans of "The Greatest Trick Of All". Even in James' "I'm not a mean man" issue, he intentionally caused a gondola full of people plummet to the ground so the Flash would be forced to save them and he could escape. Sorry James, that was incredibly mean and people could have died. (It probably happened before he even met Roscoe because Rogue team-ups were extremely uncommon at that point, but we don't actually know when the two of them met).

James used his mind-control device on Big Sir -- a man with intellectual disabilities -- and told the Rogues that turning it to the highest setting would eventually render Big Sir a vegetable. The Rogues laughed about it, as did James. And James' reform was pretty much because he didn't want to go to Hell and be at the mercy of Neron, which he stated very clearly. He wasn't doing it out of some intrinsically noble nature, it was largely self-interest.

So neither of these guys is innocent, even if James is definitely kinder and gentler than Roscoe. James is unquestionably a better person. But what I'm saying is that he also has darkness in him and has had it since the Silver Age, even if we don't see it very often, so Roscoe didn't need to force anything into him for it to appear. And thus whether Roscoe did or didn't do that is likely up to individual interpretation.

[vytels]

I’m not a huge sequels fan but this idea popped into my head lol… feel free to write this if any of you guys want!!!

Anyways, it’s another Modern AU with Dinluke raising Grogu and Rey, when they go to visit Leia’s part of the family for the summer. There’s a bit of taboo there, no one can ask about Cousin Ben, because he died when he was 18. This happened a few years before Rey was adopted, and now more years have passed and she is the same age as him.

They’re having a great time visiting when Rey runs into a boy, who happens to be the ghost of Ben Solo. He doesn’t remember how he died and he can’t move on. No one else can see him.

Ensues antics as Rey tries to figure out how her cousin died. Soon she is joined by her new friends Poe and Finn, who she is totally not trying to set up together. Ben ships it. Anyways, they don’t really believe her about the whole ghost thing at first, somehow Ben makes his presence known to them. Maybe they can see him or maybe he smacks them with a book flung off a shelf or something.

Everything of course leads to a lot of weird things, so feel free to discuss hahaha

How did Ben die?

Where are his old friends?

Why don’t Luke and Leia talk about it? Does it have something to do with their father they also don’t talk about?

Why can Grogu speak Latin?

Since when did Luke know about ghosts?

Since when did Leia carry around so much silver?

[possamble]

Question to a fanfic writer: do you think that, in Marcille’s research ways *And* her love for romance novels… would result in her writing some in-universe fanfics of her own? Like, maybe she hypes herself up on something and get disappointed, or maybe she finds some character decision isn’t as ideal as she thinks it could be? Or it’s as simple as she wants to play around with the characters and see what happens?

I can’t help but imagine a scenario where she’s struggling with some romantic trouble irl and she’s struggling with deciding on what to do, but then the answer slaps itself upside her head when she rediscovers her fanfics and how she LITERALLY made a character or two do the exact romantic decision she needs to do? It would so silly but yet I can’t help but find it so charming. Hell, just the imagery of her writing romance fanfics of her own At All is just… delightful to me hehehe.

you know I've been rotating this in my head since I saw it this morning and. I went through a wild journey of opinions before I realized... Marcille wouldn't think about fanfiction like we think about it. In the modern age, yeah, she'd be a complete tumblrina -- but we're talking about a 17th century-ish fantasy setting.

Writing before the digital age was a physical commitment to investing ink and paper into your thoughts -- and this is even before mass production can make pens and notebooks kind of whatever to buy and use on a regular basis. I'm sure the situation wasn't dire, but I really can't see Marcille, perfect honor student, using her allotted supply of stationery at the academy on super frivolous things.

Fanfiction has been normalized incredibly fast in the past few decades. Think about now normal and popular D&D is nowadays compared to how much people looked down on it 20-30 years ago. Fanfiction was a freakass nerd thing to do until relatively recent history, something that was even considered offensive to the original creators.

Remember, we've already seen Marcille react to adaptations with disgust. She's kind of a hater and an elitist fan. She also considers herself a Reputable Academic. In a setting where a digitized culture hasn't reframed fanfiction as an act of appreciation and creativity, she would absoluuuuuuuutely think that fanfiction was complete loser shit.

If she did write anything about her favourite books... She'd. She'd be one of those assholes who writes huge scathing reviews of Dal Clan translations into Common. She'd be the fantasy equivalent of those Weebs/Japanese elitists on twitter tearing through every single localization choice in anime and JRPGs and being so so annoying about it.

If we're being charitable, we could say she'd be able to appreciate non-faithful translation choices that still do a good job of carrying over the original spirit of what was said. But I think we also have to acknowledge the possibility that, at her worst, she'd really really be like those guys who were malding about the Unicorn Overlord localizations so hard the (correction: Final Fantasy Tactics Creator, not the Unicorn Overlord devs) had to step forward and ratio them. (The silver lining is that she'd never get published in the arts review newspapers/journals that she submits her essays to. those poor editors just have to deal with her being persistent.)

[cxcassii]

About me ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Hi hi! I’m cassi or you can just call me cass

She/they pronouns

I will blog mostly about my writings/brain rots/art WIPs. I am a learning artist, new to digital art.

Unapologetically unhinged abt eremika 🩷

Massively multifandom / multishipper. MAINLY fixated with eremika, presently. I’m into a lot of different things, though and I’m not choosey about stuff!

This blog is STRICTLY 18+ as I request minors do not interact.

dead dove/dark fic connoisseurs are welcomed

I’m down to talk about anything! NSFW/SFW so long as conversation is respectful.

Please, carefully read the tags of my fics before divulging! I tag all my works very specifically.

I do not take kindly to any forms of harassment, hate or bullying. Automatic block if you cross any of those three.

My asks are open!

All of my fics are located on Ao3 & this is my Twitter/X & instagram

Ao3 Fics

Healing In Your Pheromones — explicit, omegaverse au { on-going } — Alphas go into feral rut eruptions after a while if they’re continually nulled by suppressants. The dominants are transported to sanctums that are known as Rehabilitation Sanctuaries. Compounds are operated by omegan priestesses who perform pheromone therapy on the alphas brought in.

The ultimate theme is futile opposition of your destined mate. The healings of past trauma in said mate. Learning to allow what should come naturally.

A.K.A — there’s not enough em a/b/o au’s out there, so here! this is my contribution to the cause.

A Slice of Paradise — explicit cabin au { completed/one-shot } — In the paths, residing in the remote seclusion of their small temporary eden, their fabricated home—their carefully crafted cabin.

The intimate instances they partook and shared within;

Eren and Mikasa absorb the small remaining amount of time they have together.

A.K.A. — cabin au + titan nsfw content

^ WARNING! Please do NOT indulge if you don't wanna read titan nsfw content. You have been heavily advised!

asking for it — explicit, modern au { completed/one-shot } — Eren and Mikasa have been married for five years. Eren has been gone on a business trip for a little over a month. Mikasa so lovingly welcomes him home.

A.K.A — the married hobo looking Eren x subby Mika au

Tale By The Sea — explicit, mermaid au { completed one-shot } — He never much believed in the lore of mermaids. Sure, he had heard plenty of exaggerated fables and tall tales. Eren was a pirate, yes, but that didn’t mean he inherently believed in all the ole folktales of the sea. The man’s main purpose was sailing nation to nation. Taking on odd jobs for treasures, riches, jewels and everything in between. He was a jack of all trades kind of pirate.

However, in a twist of fateful events;

Eren’s beliefs are tested shortly after taking on an odd job. Foolishly, he’d set sail alone. Subsequently, his ship crashed right into a beast of a storm. Thrusted into the chasm of the deep blue, his world goes black swiftly after the thunderous sea sinks his vessel.

Next thing Eren knows, he’s waking up staring straight into nearly sky blue, silvered eyes. A glimmering, shimmered tail whipping around a head full of lustrous raven locks.

“How goes it, human?”

“Uhm, y-yer a…”

“Yes, a mermaid. And I saved your life. That means you owe me one.”

Well, guess Eren be damned.

Maybe mermaids did exist.

A.K.A. — the mermaidKasa x Pirate Eren au

Porcelain Menial — explicit, modern messy stripperKasa au { on-going / returning from hiatus } —

Mikasa, age 24, was a stripper in the night-time at her cousin Levi's night club, Club Rose.

It was during a brief—though highly sexually charged—lap dance did a certain brunet, deeply sun-kissed, and aqua-teal-eyed man slipped her a hefty amount of cash.

Unaware, Mikasa stumbled into the same man again in the most unexpected way.

Or what she presumed was unexpected.

Cunning and clever, Mr. Eren Jaeger’s keen on precisely he how pulled the strings and how exactly he planned to invite the stripper into his home.

A.K.A. — The messy stripper/maidKasa x closeted kinkster doctor Eren au ✨

( ^ messy writing in this one, as it’s my first multi-chap fic, be warned! )

[lovelyatomicpeace]

A whole new city

Request by @princeasimdiya12 : So based on Disney's Aladdin, can you write a one shot with Aladdin and Jasmine as an elderly couple and seeing how much Agrabah has changed for the better please? As in they helped create programs to promote better support for the less fortunate which also reduced crime rates. What do you think?

Warnings: Aladdin and jasmine old, think about the past, progress of a city, love, fluff

Considerations: Sooooo...this is the first Fanfiction that i ever write and published, i hope that you can enjoy the reading of it and the way that I wrote it down. Let me know with a feedback ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was setting low over the vast expanse of Agrabah. The palace-fortress still stood proud in the heart of the city.

Aladdin leaned against the railing of the balcony, a familiar spot that offered him a breathtaking view of the city he loved so much. His hair had turned silver, his once youthful face had softened with age, marked by the presence of a few wrinkles around his eyes and a goatee now as gray as the one his father once wore. Next to him, Princess Jasmine, now queen, sat comfortably in a plush chair, her hair streaked with gray locks, still plastered as it was when she was younger

"Look at it, Al," she said, her voice melodious and warm. "Can you believe how much she has changed?" Aladdin nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "It's incredible. I remember when we could barely walk a few meters without being stopped by street vendors and curious children. The market was definitely chaotic!"Jasmine stood up and leaned forward, squeezed his hand and leaned against him as they surveyed the boundless expanse of their beloved city. Colorful stalls overflowed with handmade goods and knick-knacks, laughter echoing through the alleys. Children played, their joyful cries measuring the rhythm of a joyful life.

"Every day, we see the fruits of our labor. It warms my heart to know that the programs we have initiated have changed so many lives," Jasmine said, her voice full of emotion. Aladdin nodded, remembering the long nights spent thinking about how to uplift their city. Over the years, their work had transformed into initiatives that provided education, health care, and opportunity to those struggling in ways they never had.

The market was no longer just a bartering place; it had become a community center, a place of learning where women brought their crafts and children learned the value of trade.

"Do you remember the first day of the agricultural program? How we planted those seeds together?" he asked, with a glint of nostalgia in his eyes. Jasmine laughed, her laughter like a melody. "You insisted on doing it the old way while I had studied modern techniques! It turned out to be a glorious day, and now look at the gardens all over the city!"

Aladdin's gaze softened as he looked out at an expanse of vibrant green adorned with colorful flowers dancing in the gentle evening breeze. Each flower seemed to tell a story of hope and perseverance. Jasmine giggled, "And I remember the day you first took me to that crowded square. I was so overwhelmed by all the sights and smells". He laughed, a rich, carefree sound echoing in the evening air. "What can I say? I was trying to impress you."

She waved his hand in contempt, with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Of course you did. But look at our city now. Clean streets and order: that was a promise we made together, wasn't it?"

"It was," Aladdin said, his gaze sweeping over the streets below. They had faced countless challenges, downfalls, betrayals, even the vengeance of a sorcerer, but together they had rebuilt their home into something vibrant.

He turned to her, a serious expression appearing on his face. "Jasmine, what do you think young Aladdin would say if he could see what we have built together? What would that young scoundrel who climbed the walls of the palace of his life say now?"

Jasmine reached out her hand, placing it on his. "He would be proud, Al. Of you. Of us. Of this city. And he would be grateful for the courage we had to change." Reflecting, Aladdin's thoughts went back along the winding paths of their adventures: flying on a carpet among the stars, freeing a genie, fighting evil sorcerers, all had contributed to their legacy. But it was this daily life, the quiet moments shared in a life of love, that made their journey meaningful.

"You know, even though Agrabah has changed, somethings remain the same."

"What is it?" asked Aladdin, curious.

"Your heart," she replied, her eyes shining. "It still contains the same wild and adventurous spirit."

He smiled, the light dancing in his eyes. "And yours have only grown more beautiful with time. With you by my side, I have explored the world beyond Agrabah, but I have also found my true treasures here." Jasmine leaned forward, her forehead resting against his. They had discovered that love did not fade with age; it simply matured. Each wrinkle on their faces was a trace of a shared memory, a laugh, a tear, a victory and a promise: together, they remembered the eccentric Genie's quirks and the magic they had woven into their lives. And as the stars began to shine above their heads, Aladdin approached Jasmine.

"Do you ever think about the stories we leave behind?" he asked, with a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

"Always." Jasmine's expression became contemplative. "But I hope the stories focus not just on us, but on the people of Agrabah: stories of resilience, unity, and dreams coming true."

"Then let's make sure we keep sharing these stories," Aladdin said, taking her hand in his. "Let's gather the children and tell them about the magic that flows through this city. The magic born of love, determination and community."

As the night deepened, they descended from the balcony, hands clasped, hearts intertwined. Below them, the city glowed with lanterns and dreams, a living testament to their work and love. Walking through the streets of Agrabah, side by side in the bustling marketplace, they realized that each sunrise brought with it another chance to dream, another wish fulfilled, under the twinkling stars that had witnessed their journey.

[m-i-c-drop-doodles]

So I may have sort of accidentally created a new One Piece Au whilst starting to write up my other One Piece Au (Fallout). (Both are just in the draft stages atm, it's the first time I have done any creative writing in a while so it may take me a while

The Au (current title Dawn: Den of demons) is kinda a mash of a timeline divergence mixed with time travel fix. Where through soul and time BS, certain character's souls are transported into a alternate timeline through essentially reincarnation, in such they are reborn as demons.

As a result of this, Luffy's family has him having more brothers, two sisters, eight cousins, three uncles, one aunty and a Grunkle!

Demon lore : (it might be a little confusing so I'll try my best to explain it)

Please feel free to ask questions or for any clarification as I'll gladly answer.

Demons are a secret race that lives by hiding in amongst humans, after nearly being hunted to extinction centuries prior.

Demons are the only known race to be able to reincarnate, with some demons still having memories from the void century (however that is now becoming a rarity as less and less demons are being born and living long enough to regain those memories through the Dream)

Modern demons are born with a protective glamour called a Veil. This allows demons to remain concealed from birth and later as they age, obtaining the ability to 'lift' their Veil and reveal their true form underneath.

Demonic biology:

2-3 sets of horns

Tails (can feathered, furred, scaled or carapace)

patterned markings on face, back, chest, upper arms and legs

elongated fangs and tongue (some having venom glands for defensive or mating purposes)

retractable claws

two vocal separate cords (one demonic one human)

inhumane sense of hearing and smell

Scent glands and pheromones

Pointed ears (often furred)

Near perfect night vision

black sclera with abnormally shaped irises (normally silver, gold or red)

Digitigrade feet [walking on the balls of the foot] (can be paws, hooves, webbed or reptilian)

inhuman strength and speed

extremely tall (twice the size as their human appearance) ranging from 10ft - 20ft tall

voracious appetites

There are three known ways for a demon to be born:

Having one or more parents being a demon(s)

Having latent demonic heritage

Blood to blood contact with a Full Blood demon (this is the only way a human can become a demon but rarely crates Full Bloods)

However it has been known that if a human has continuous long exposer to demons, they begin to gain minor demonic traits such as:

enhance sense of hearing and smell

minor scent gland and pheromone development

enhanced speed, strength, and durability

increased appetite

increased aggression

territorial or hoarding behaviours

nesting behaviours

Different Blood Types:

Full Blood - Demons with strong blood heritage (often with direct ancestry back to the original 7 demons)

Rare Blood - Demons born of two human parents (as a result of distant demonic ancestry)

Half Blood - Demons with human parentage or were humans that were sired by a Full Blood (true forms are half the size that of a Full Blood) However, Half Bloods are still capable of having Full Blood young but only in extremely rare cases

Demon Age milestones and terms:

Kitten (0-5) - infant

Kit (5-10) - toddler/child -> experiences first Dream

Cub (10-20) preteen/teenager -> second Dream

Baron (20-30) young adult -> Can now leave their Litter independently and gain mate/territory as they are considered self-sufficient

Elder (30 +) Most modern demons don't often live long despite being capable of living 200+ years, this is due as demon ages it gets harder for them to conceal their true forms often leading to them being found by demon hunters.

Litter - A group of young demons that live together (siblings or orphaned demons can form Wandering Litters as a method to protect themselves in the scenario where the Den is no longer safe or are unable to find a Den, with the youngest members being prioritised in these groups)

Brood - a demon family unit that is overseen by one or more adults (demon or human can be in charge of a brood)

Clan - The Clans are the descendance of the original 7 demons who where created by The First - who was known as Darkness-Given-Form or simply The Dark One. The original 7 where named after the seven sins, with the clans named after their respective founder. Each clan has their own physical and behavioural characteristics often being differentiated by a demon's horns, tails and marking.

Den - the main home to a singular or group of demons, dens are considered a safe place that demons can unveil and relax. Den often comprise of a communal nest, eating and food prep area (mainly comprising of meat) and a hoard pile. Demons are naturally extremely territorial of their nests, commonly attempting to kill anyone who eve they suspect of trespassing. NEVER enter a demon den without the express invitation of the residence, trying otherwise will just result in a gruesome death.

The Dream is considered a sacred rite of passage for demon, as in the eve of their first and second decades of life, the young demon falls into a week long fevered sleep where they begin to recount the memories and experiences of their previous lives (with in rare cases being able to 'communicate' with a previous life)

As a result of being continuously hunted through the years, demons have become naturally distrustful of humans. However in the rare case a human gains a demon's full trust, they can be given a unique scent marker that tells other demons that human has become a Trusted. This mark would allow the human status within a clan or brood, and gives them similar rights and privileges as if they were a demon.

(to be continued)