#(although still cognizant of it?)

[echoland]

me when i choose to interpret kim's "halo" as kim beginning to eclipse the very idea of idealization in hdb's mind because he's not in the center of the so-called halo (-- slightly to the left)(c.f. jean) like he is interfering with the harsh light (of the "divine") just me though👍

[iatrophilosophos]

I just want to go to sleep but instead these asshole kids are having simultaneous meltdowns and holy fuck it feels like the space between our eyes is melting

[ddarker-dreams]

Lock, would you please explain the differences in your husband rotation when they're in a "normal state/character" compared to when they exhibit yandere tendencies/ are extremely yandere? I'd love to read your thoughts🖤!

this was such an interesting question that i've been thinking about it all day HGETJNKR

speaking in general terms, even when writing 'non-yandere' versions of the husband rotation, i still make them a lil weird. just a dash of unhinged. what changes depending on if they're yan or not is how willing they are to consciously impede on the reader's wishes for their personal gain. now, getting into specifics...

my take on non-yandere and yan chrollo

there are a lot of little specifics that change depending on the variation of the character i'm writing for, but we'd be here all day if i got into that. so, i'll be focusing on the most prominent differences. regarding mr. lucilfer, i consider the most pertinent changes to be: him divulging his identity to reader and how out of his way he goes to rope reader in.

yan chrollo holds off on revealing that he's the leader of the phantom troupe, but is eventually fine with you finding out. it serves a dual-purpose. first, you're Extra cognizant of the power difference, thwarting any potential shenanigans you might get up to. second, he can unapologetically be himself. non-yandere chrollo's fine expressing his apathy toward the plight of others in small, socially acceptable increments. he's less blunt about it overall because he doesn't want you to drift away from him.

then there's his manipulation of outside variables to scooch you his way. yan chrollo accepts subjecting you to some traumatic things as a 'means to an end,' whereas his non-yandere counterpart values your mental well-being more. thanks king. regardless, they're both going to stalk you to varying extents, utilizing morally ambiguous methods without any guilt. they're also both going to make liberal use of lying by omission.

non-yandere and yan gojo

i am physically incapable of writing gojo being normal toward reader. it'd lack the pièce de résistance. that being said, non-yandere gojo is weird and yan gojo is weird with malicious intent. i'm not sure if that makes any sense, so allow me to elaborate.

they're both not the best with respecting boundaries, although in non-yandere gojo's case, that'd improve slightly with age. i always write reader as having attended high school with him because that's the dynamic i find most intriguing. in both cases, gojo in his teenage years is going to be obnoxious and unapologetic about keeping your eyes on him. non-yandere gojo deviates in his ability to mature by trusting you enough to believe you when you say you're not going anywhere. yandere gojo always has that gnawing fear that he'll end up with no one who can truly understand him if he isn't vigilant.

either way, you're not locked up in some dungeon where you'll never see the light of day, which is a boon. they're both content to let you interact with geto & shoko in your high school years, as well as their students into adulthood. selfish as yan gojo can be, his dream of the next generation usurping the status quo is paramount. he believes your influence too invaluable to deprive his students of. they both complain about how much you dote on megumi though.

non-yandere and yan scara

... ahem. the differences here are less pronounced. a driving factor behind scaramouche's character is his fear of abandonment, along with the resentment from the betrayals he previously experienced. they're both not the easiest people to be in a relationship with (or the healthiest). there's always going to be some level of codependency with non-yandere scaramouche. his yandere variation just cranks that to the highest setting.

the key difference lies within your ability to steer him away from being a weirdo. there's a skill ceiling for yan scaramouche, you can only make it so far. non-yandere scaramouche, on the other hand, has a sliver of hope. it'd require a mind-numbing amount of patience and forgiveness, but it's technically possible. everything comes down to how much you love him at his worst. should you accept him, albeit with some conditions (such as him being more honest with his feelings), he will make a legitimate effort to reform himself.

anything else nets you a bad end. he's emotionally volatile and prone to callousness. it isn't like yan scaramouche wants you to hate him — he's driven by paranoia. compounded by your understandable distaste for his new, restrictive behavior, he ends up saying things he'll later regret. tl;dr scara is eevee and will evolve into a slightly normal partner or yandere depending on your stats.

non-yandere and yan blade

somehow the most normal from this lineup?????? not that that's an achievement, since that bar's in hell, but it's still kinda funny.

unlike the other weirdos on this list, non-yandere blade could come to accept if you loved another. it isn't inconceivable or a reality he'd seek to alter. if anything, non-yandere blade would find your romantic interest in him far more perplexing. he's a jaded, immortal weapon who guiltlessly sheds blood. he knows you deserve better and that you're likable enough to find another partner. said partner would be subject to his scrutiny, but he wouldn't be vehemently opposed.

yandere blade thinks a similar way. what changes is his self-restraint — or lack, thereof. would you be happier with another? yes. can he love you the way you deserve? absolutely not. that doesn't remedy the incessant urge to possess you. you don't even have to like him back, per se, just having you around satisfies him. you quench this hunger that his non-yandere self ignores (with great difficulty).

here's to hoping this makes any sense 😭...

[bradshawsbaby]

What Christmas Means to Me, My Love

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Wife!Reader

Summary: You're determined to make your first married Christmas the best one yet. But when you start to overextend yourself, Bob steps in to remind you what's most important.

Word Count: 10.6k

Author's Note: Whew! The relief I feel that I was able to get this story completed before Christmas Eve! This is my contribution to @lewmagoo's A Lew Magoo Christmas challenge! It was inspired by the Stevie Wonder song, "What Christmas Means To Me." I hope you all enjoy!

(Special shoutout and thanks to @luminousnotmatter and @ryebecca for listening to me ramble when I was having a total meltdown about writing this story. I'm very thankful for you both!)

Warnings: References to being stressed during the holidays and a few brief innuendos, but it's mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff!

From the time he was a young boy, Bob Floyd had been cognizant of one very fascinating phenomenon—his bed never felt so comfortable or so warm as when his alarm clock was blaring in his ear, giving him a rather forceful reminder that it was time to get up and start the day. After he met you, that troubling phenomenon seemed to increase tenfold. As responsible as he was and as much as he prided himself on getting to work early each day, Bob would be lying if he said there weren’t times when he felt like chucking his alarm clock across the room and playing sick just so he could stay tucked away in bed all day, cocooned under the blankets and wrapped around your sweet warmth.

This morning, as his alarm started roaring at 7:00 on the dot, Bob let out a small grunt of protest, blindly reaching out from beneath the comforter to pound a resentful fist on the top of his alarm clock. Once it was silent, he rolled over in the bed the two of you had been sharing as husband and wife for nearly six months now and reached an arm out, fully expecting to wrap it around your soft, pajama-clad body. When he was met with emptiness instead, Bob blinked his eyes open in confusion and sat up slowly, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from his vision as he grabbed his glasses off the nightstand and slipped them onto his nose, albeit a bit crookedly.

“Sweetheart?” Bob called out, frowning when he was met with nothing but the early morning stillness of your quaint little home.

Immediately, he flung the covers back and climbed out of bed, padding towards the bathroom to see if maybe you were in the shower and couldn’t hear him calling you over the sound of the running water. That theory was quickly disproven, however, when he found the bathroom door hanging open, lights off and no sounds of a shower in progress. But as he flicked on the lights, Bob discovered that you must have been in there not too long ago, for the mirror above the sink was still beaded with condensation and the bathmat had the imprint of damp footprints.

“Honey?” Bob called again, thinking maybe you’d stepped outside to enjoy your morning coffee on the front porch. Although why you’d be up this early—and showered already, too—on one of your days off from work was beyond him.

Walking into the kitchen, Bob immediately spotted a piece of festive note paper resting on the countertop. He recognized it instantly, the cream colored paper outlined with a ring of cheerful poinsettias. You’d been ecstatic when you’d found it at the dollar store a few weeks ago—"You never know when something like this will come in handy during the holidays, honey," were your exact words. But what stood out even more was your delicate handwriting etched across the paper in dark ink. Picking up the note, Bob adjusted his glasses and read the message you’d quickly penned on your way out the door.

Good morning, honey! I decided to head out early to try to hit some of the stores before they get too crazy. There’s a lot that I still need to pick up, so I’ll probably be gone most of the day. Also, Lorraine and I are going to run over to check out the venue for our staff holiday party and finalize the menu. Speaking of which, I also need to finalize the menu for OUR party, plus Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Text me if there’s anything you want me to get! Hopefully I won’t be home too late. I love you!!!

P.S. I almost forgot—I packed some lunch for you and left it in the fridge! And there’s a pot of coffee ready to brew. Have a great day!!!

He sighed softly as he set your note back down on the counter, running a hand through his honey brown hair, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his lips even as he silently lamented your early departure. He could hear your voice in his head as he read your words, chuckling to himself as he pictured you quickly gulping down a cup of coffee—in your favorite Christmas mug, no doubt—and shoving a piece of half-burnt toast in your mouth before running out the door.

You absolutely lived for this time of year, and all the hecticness that the season entailed.

Bob had known, almost from the very start of your relationship, how much you adored Christmas. It was one of the things, in fact, that had made it so easy for him to fall in love with you. Seeing the way you lit up like a firefly when a Christmas song came on the radio or when your favorite coffee shop started offering peppermint-flavored drinks made Bob’s heart melt in absolute love and devotion. He had never known anyone as whimsical or as full of genuine Christmas spirit as you. And your joy was infectious—Bob had never loved the holiday season so much as he did once he started celebrating it with you.

Waiting for his coffee to finish brewing, Bob couldn’t help but grin as he glanced around the kitchen at all the decorations you’d been putting up since Thanksgiving. They gave your home a warm, cozy feeling that had nothing to do with aesthetics and everything to do with the loving care with which you’d hung them.

To Bob, every day was Christmas so long as he got to spend it with you.

Which was why he sighed again as he poured a splash of cream into his coffee mug, brows furrowing above his glasses as he considered how little he’d seen you these past couple weeks.

With both of you working full-time jobs, it made sense that you couldn’t possibly spend every waking moment together. But Bob looked forward more than anything to your routine of dinner in the early evening and then hours spent lounging in each other’s arms, talking about your days or listening to music or watching a movie together. It was a habit you had gotten into even before you were married, and it was made all the sweeter by the fact that your lives were now entwined so intrinsically.

These past few weeks, however, that routine had been seriously upended by all the hustle and bustle of the holidays. Bob knew you took this time of year seriously—and he really did love how happy it made you—but it seemed like this year more than ever, your schedule was jam-packed and filled nearly to bursting.

On top of the usual shopping that needed to get done—you bought gifts for everyone, even down to your mail carrier and the barista who made your favorite coffee—there were preparations for not one, not two, but three separate parties you had volunteered to host. First up was your staff holiday party. Your colleagues knew that no one loved Christmas more than you, and so they had unanimously nominated you to spearhead the planning, which you’d graciously agreed to, with some help from your co-worker, Lorraine. Then was the party for the Daggers and their families that you had convinced Bob it would be fun to host a few days before Christmas Eve. All of your friends couldn’t stop buzzing about it, and you were going to great lengths to make sure it was perfect. As if all that wasn’t enough, you were also going to be hosting both of your families for the holidays this year, parents, siblings, nieces, nephews, and all.

“It’s our first Christmas as Mr. and Mrs. Floyd,” you’d told him one night, when he’d asked if you were really okay with all of the planning that would be involved. “I want it to be special.” Your smile when you said it warmed him from the inside out. As introverted as he could be, he’d gladly host twenty parties so long as it made you happy.

The reality, however, was that you were swamped. Every day after work, you were either running around to stores or scouring the internet for the best cyber deals or researching recipes that you wanted to try for Christmas dinner. One night, Bob had even found you making an alphabetized list of holiday games you could play at the parties.

“Are you sure you’re really okay?” Bob asked at one point, when he caught you yawning over your dinner. “I know I’ve been busy with work, but I can help more. Just tell me what you need.”

“I’m fine, silly,” you giggled, waving off his concern with a hand. “I just want everyone to have a good time.”

“They will,” he told you, resting his large, calloused hand over yours. He looked intently into your eyes, sincerity shining in the blue depths of his. “They’ll have a good time no matter what. You don’t have to make yourself sick over planning.”

You had just smiled at him and given him a kiss, but clearly you hadn’t heeded his words because now you were even using your day off to run errands, waking up even earlier than your naval aviator husband to do so.

Rinsing his empty mug out in the sink, Bob frowned as he thought of how tired you’d seemed these past few days. Your joy and your sweetness never diminished, but he could tell just from looking in your eyes how exhausted you were getting. You were overextending yourself, and he was terrified you were going to burn out before Christmas even arrived. Not being able to fully enjoy your favorite time of year would devastate you, and nothing would hurt Bob more than that.

You needed to take a day for yourself, Bob decided as he let the warm water flow over him in a quick shower. No shopping, no planning, no organizing—just a day where you actually got to enjoy all your favorite things about this season.

That idea remained buzzing around in his head as he drove to work, hanging on the periphery of his consciousness even as he spent hours flying test runs with Phoenix and the rest of the Daggers. On his lunch break, he enthusiastically hunkered down in the rec room to research some of the plans that were percolating in his mind. And by the time he drove home that evening, he was wearing a smile bright enough to rival any of the Christmas lights twinkling in your neighborhood.

The fact that you still weren’t home when Bob unlocked the front door and carefully placed his work boots on the shoe rack only further solidified his plan. As if you could somehow read his mind, his phone buzzed suddenly with an incoming text.

Are you home? I’m so sorry I’m not back yet! I’m on my way now. I picked up some dinner from that BBQ place that you like 😋

Bob’s heart squeezed with affection as he read your words. You’d been up for nearly twelve hours at this point, and you were no doubt exhausted, but you were still always putting others ahead of yourself. He typed out a quick response as he walked into the living room to turn on the lights on the Christmas tree.

Yum! Thank you, sweetheart. Can’t wait for you to get home ♥️

About twenty minutes later, just as Bob was stepping out of your bedroom after changing into a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt from his time at the Naval Academy, he heard your key jiggling in the lock and hurried to meet you.

“Oh!” you gasped in surprise when your husband swung open the door before you could finish turning your key. “Hiya, honey,” you beamed, holding up the bag of take-out food you’d picked up especially for him on your drive home.

“Man, I tell you, these delivery people keep getting cuter and cuter,” Bob teased, drawing you close and taking the food out of your hands as he dropped a kiss on your lips.

“Mmm,” you giggled against his mouth, kissing him back as you felt some of the tension you’d been carrying in your shoulders slowly dissipate. “Maybe this delivery girl can join you for dinner tonight,” you winked playfully, smiling when you felt Bob’s fingers lace through yours.

“I was counting on it,” he chuckled, tugging on your hand as he turned into the house.

“Oh, just give me a couple minutes, honey,” you exclaimed, suddenly remembering you’d left your car idling in the driveway, the backseat and trunk filled to the brim with your purchases of the day. “I just want to get everything out of the car.”

“Sweetheart, it can wait,” Bob insisted, glancing longingly between you and his dinner. “Your food’s going to get cold. I’ll help you unload the car after we eat.”

You bit your lip in hesitation, but finally relented when you saw the puppy dog expression on your husband’s face. “Okay, fine, let me just go turn the car off.”

A few minutes later, you and Bob were seated side by side at your small kitchen table, your legs pressing together and your fingers brushing against one another as you nibbled on wings and scarfed down some chili mac and cheese.

“How was your day?” you asked curiously, glancing up as you took a sip of water and wiped your fingers on a napkin.

You always asked that question so sincerely, even after all this time. It made him feel so seen and loved. Smiling, he rested his hand over yours and squeezed your fingers gently.

“It was good,” he said lightly, not yet ready to divulge the plans he’d been formulating all day. “You know, same old, same old. How about yours?”

“It was great!” you chirped, beaming brightly.

Bob smiled and nodded as you told him about the gifts you’d picked up for all the nieces and nephews, the menu you and Lorraine had decided on for your staff holiday party, the grab bags gifts you’d snagged for the Dagger party, the new gingerbread recipe you’d just heard about, and a whole host of other things.

“Sorry, I’m rambling,” you murmured sheepishly after you realized you’d hardly stopped for a moment to take a breath.

“It’s okay, I love it when you ramble,” Bob grinned, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Mmm, I love it even more when you taste like barbeque,” he laughed, nudging your nose with his own.

Laughing, you wrapped your arms around his strong shoulders and kissed him tenderly. Pulling back, you rested your forehead against his with a contented sigh and gazed into his eyes. “Want to go find a movie to watch while I do the dishes?” you suggested.

Bob pulled back slightly to more fully look at you, though he kept his large hands wrapped loosely around your waist. “As much as I love the sound of that plan, I think we should call it an early night tonight, honey,” he said softly, reaching up to lightly brush your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You look exhausted.”

You pouted slightly, but couldn’t stifle the yawn that suddenly came upon you, which made the both of you laugh. “I guess you’re right,” you admitted ruefully, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment.

“How about you get started on the dishes and I’ll unload everything from the car? Then we’ll head to bed, alright?” Bob asked, hyper aware of the drawn look around your eyes.

“Deal,” you nodded, giving him one more kiss as you jumped up to clear the table.

Thirty minutes later, the two of you were cuddled up under the covers, the warm glow from the little battery-operated lantern you kept near the window casting a cozy feel over the room.

“Do you have any plans for Saturday?” Bob asked softly, running his fingers up and down your arm gently as you lay in his embrace. Saturday was the one day that the both of you had off, and he intended to make the most of it this weekend.

You let out a soft sigh, snuggling up further against his chest. “There are a few new recipes I wanted to try for dinner on Christmas Eve and Christmas, so I figured maybe I should test them out ahead of time, just in case they end up being a disaster. Saturday seems as good a day as any to do that. Want to be my taste tester?” you grinned, eyes crinkling as you smiled over at him.

“Uh-uh,” Bob shook his head, a slightly mischievous smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Your eyes widened in surprise as you looked at him. “Why not? You’ve got other plans?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, his blue eyes twinkling, which you could see even in the dark of your bedroom. “I’m going to have a very full day.”

“Doing what?” you huffed jokingly, arching an eyebrow as you rolled onto your side, gazing at him curiously.

“You’ll find out,” Bob grinned, not letting the cat out of the bag just yet. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” you asked, clearly taken aback as your eyes widened once again. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” he chuckled, leaning over to give you a quick kiss.

“Bob!” you exclaimed, nudging him lightly with your foot.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he grinned, rolling over and closing his eyes. He had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing as he heard you huffing softly beside him, clearly desperate to know what he was planning. Within minutes, however, he heard the sound of your breathing soften and deepen, your eyes closing in a deep slumber.

Turning back over, Bob watched you sleep peacefully and felt his heart clench inside his chest. You were going above and beyond this Christmas, and it was clearly taking its toll, whether you wanted to admit it or not. He was glad to see you sleeping so comfortably after such a long day.

You were striving so hard to make this Christmas magical for everyone else. This weekend, Bob was going to make it magical for you and remind you what this season was really all about.

Nobody deserved it more than you.

Saturday morning dawned bright and crisp, just as Bob had been anticipating. He’d been checking the forecast every day to make sure that nothing was going to interfere with his plans for today. The weather was better than he could have hoped for—the sun was shining bright, hardly a cloud in the sky, but the air had a nice winter chill as the temperature hovered somewhere between the high fifties and low sixties.

That was one of the only things you ever lamented about moving to San Diego—it was harder to make it feel like Christmas when it was still warm enough to wear shorts and go to the beach. But today’s weather, while certainly not cold by any stretch of the imagination, would at least give you an opportunity to wear one of those new sweaters you’d bought for yourself.

Grinning like a little kid on Christmas morning, Bob quietly tiptoed into your bedroom, where he was delighted to see that you were still fast asleep, buried so deeply under the covers that only the top of your head was poking out. Swallowing back a laugh, he sidled over to your side of the bed and carefully placed the treats he’d set out early to procure on your nightstand.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured softly, gingerly taking a seat on the edge of the bed to avoid crushing you. You stirred slightly, but didn’t open your eyes, so he bent down to drop a kiss on the crown of your head, still the only part of your body exposed to the mid-morning light. “Honey, wake up,” he tried again, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

Letting out a soft hum in response, you slowly pushed the covers back and ran a hand down your face before opening your eyes halfway, peeking up at your husband through hooded lids.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Bob chuckled, ducking his head to peck your lips tenderly.

“Mmm, good morning,” you replied, your voice still heavy with sleep as you stretched with a satisfied little groan. You were so distracted by the extremely pleasant view of your handsome husband hovering above you that it took you a moment to realize how much light was filtering in through the windows, and to catch a glimpse of the time on your alarm clock. Gasping, you bolted upright, looking at Bob with wide eyes. “Is that really the time? I thought I set an alarm!”

It was nearly 9:45am. You couldn’t remember the last time you had slept in that late. Between work and all the other things you were usually running around doing, even on your days off, your internal alarm hardly ever let you sleep that long. Not to mention the fact that you normally had an alarm set. You could have sworn you had set it last night.

Bob had the grace to look a bit sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck, gazing at you with those big blue eyes behind the frames of his adorably gawky glasses. “You did,” he began slowly, glancing guiltily at your alarm clock and then back at you. “I shut it off.”

“Bob!” you exclaimed in astonishment, uncertain what would have possessed him to do that, especially when he knew how busy you were lately. “Why would you do that?”

“You needed the extra sleep, honey,” he said in a voice so sweet and filled with concern that you couldn’t even dream of staying mad at him. Reaching out, he took one of your hands between both of his, gently rolling the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “You’ve been running yourself ragged these past couple weeks. I wanted you to get some real rest.”

You bit your lip, averting your gaze as you silently thought about how busy you’d been lately and how exhausted you’d been feeling. You’d had three cups of coffee at work yesterday just to make it through the day.

“I guess you’re right,” you conceded, your lips curving upward in a rueful smile. “I do feel a little bit better already. Thank you, honey,” you told him, leaning forward to give him a kiss of appreciation. That was when your eyes landed on the cup of coffee and the small red-and-white striped bag on your nightstand. “Is that for me?” you gasped in delight, looking back at your husband eagerly.

“Mhm,” Bob chuckled at your open excitement, reaching for the cup and the bag and placing them in your hands.

Your very favorite coffee shop in all of San Diego, which also happened to be the spot where you and Bob went on your second date, was a tiny little hole-in-the-wall place not far from where you worked. From the outside, it didn’t seem like much to behold, but it was one of the city’s best kept secrets. Their coffee was brewed to perfection and their baked goods were a sweettooth’s dream. But what you loved most of all was the way they went all out for the holidays. The entire cafe was decked out in garland and bows and twinkling lights, Christmas music pumped through the speakers all day long, and their menu reflected everyone’s seasonal favorites.

At this time of year, your go-to order was a large peppermint mocha with extra whipped cream and a gingerbread scone that you swore you wanted to be your last meal on this earth. Bob had gotten to the cafe just in time that morning to get a scone fresh out of the oven.

“Oh my gosh, it’s still warm,” you sighed happily, the spiced molasses melting on your tongue as soon as you popped it into your mouth. You closed your eyes in bliss, washing it down with a sip of the peppermint mocha. “Thank you, honey. This is such a sweet surprise.”

“The first of many, I hope,” Bob smiled, resting a hand on your thigh as you enjoyed your breakfast in bed. “I have lots planned for you today, Mrs. Floyd.”

“You do?” you asked, raising an eyebrow over the rim of your coffee cup.

He nodded, his smile only growing wider. “Don’t you remember what I said the other night? We’ve got a lot to do today. So as soon as you’re done enjoying your breakfast, you better hop in the shower. We don’t want to be late,” he told you, his gorgeous baby blues sparkling as he rose from the bed and started towards the door.

“Wait!” you cried,  jumping out of bed with your coffee and scone still firmly in hand. “What are we doing?” you called after him, chasing behind him in bare feet. “Bobby!”

“You’ll find out,” he laughed, turning around and resting his hands on your shoulders. “Just wear something comfortable,” was all the information he gave you.

You sighed in a purposely dramatic fashion, shooting him a playful glance. You knew from the look on his face that he wasn’t going to tell you anything else, so there was no use in trying to get the information out of him. Instead, you quickly gulped down the rest of your coffee and finished off your scone—still trying to savor every bite—before tearing off your pajamas and jumping into the shower.

An hour later, you were ready to go, dressed in a cute pair of jeans and a new red and white sweater you’d just recently purchased. The weather today finally gave you an opportunity to wear it.

“Is this alright?” you asked Bob as you stepped into the living room, holding your arms out at your sides. It was hard to know what to wear when you had no idea what you were doing.

“It’s perfect,” Bob nodded, smiling as he rose from the couch and took in your appearance. “Just like you,” he added, winking as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I could say the same thing to you,” you giggled, resting your hands on his broad chest. He was wearing a dark green crew neck sweater and dark jeans that fit his long figure exquisitely. “Now are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

Bob just shook his head, laughing out loud when you released a groan of exasperation. “Patience, my sweet wife,” he teased, taking your hand in his and leading you towards the front door. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

You really hadn’t been sure what to anticipate when you climbed into the car with Bob. As many guesses as you tried to make to figure out what his plans were, your husband’s expression was impenetrable. He didn’t give anything away, no matter what you said.

What you hadn’t been expecting was to pull into the parking lot of Petco Park.

As soon as Bob put the car in park, you glanced over at him curiously, trying to figure out what you were doing here. Your husband wasn’t a big baseball fan. And even if he was, it was the middle of December.

“I’m guessing we’re not here for a Padres game?” you ventured with a playful smile, glancing around the crowded parking lot.

Your husband laughed, shaking his head. “Not exactly. Come on,” he told you, climbing out of the car and hurrying around to the passenger side to open your door.

Slipping your hand into his, you followed his lead as he guided you through the milling crowd towards the entrance to the baseball stadium. He seemed almost giddy as the two of you got closer and closer to the park, glancing down at you every few seconds as if to check that you were still with him. You had no idea what was awaiting you, but his excitement was infectious and you found yourself buzzing with anticipation.

You weren’t disappointed.

As soon as Bob handed over your tickets to the attendant, you were swept up in the crowd of people surging towards Gallagher Square, where you were met with a breathtaking display of Christmas beauty.

“Oh, Bobby,” you breathed out, coming to a halt as you stared, wide-eyed and in awe of the beautiful market that surrounded you.

“Do you like it?” Bob asked, a thread of nervousness in his voice as he looked at you, watching the way you were silently taking everything in.

Turning to face him, your face split into a huge grin and you threw your arms around him, peppering his cheek with kisses. “I love it! It’s so wonderful!”

It was as close to a German Christmas market as you had ever come, with vendors of all kinds set up in little wooden booths ringing the perimeter of the square. There were shopkeepers selling a whole assortment of things, from hot chocolate and gingerbread cookies to homemade candy to personalized ornaments to fine wine and jewelry. Amidst all the different stalls were small stages where performances ranging from choirs to magic shows were taking place, not to mention the life-size snow globes and the giant sleigh where guests could take pictures. And at the center of it all was a ginormous Christmas tree that had to be at least thirty feet tall.

It was magical. It made you feel like you were a little girl again, attending your town’s local Christmas fair with your family.

“I didn’t even know this existed!” you exclaimed, still holding tightly to your husband as you continued to gaze around you.

“I didn’t either,” Bob admitted, unable to stop smiling at how happy you looked. “But Phoenix and Hangman told me they took the kids here last week and had a blast, so I knew I had to get you tickets.”

“Oh, thank you, honey! This is amazing!” you beamed, wrapping your arms around him to give him an enthusiastic kiss.

Bob chuckled and blushed slightly as he adjusted his glasses with one hand, his other hand resting on your hip. “Should we walk around?”

Nodding, you took his hand and practically hauled him across the square, bouncing from stall to stall and oohing and aahing over all the various trinkets and baubles.

“Oh, honey, look! We should get this,” you cooed, holding up a sweet ornament of a hand painted Christmas tree with a little banner draped across it that read Our First Christmas as Mr. and Mrs.

It didn’t matter that you had three other ornaments with similar messages already hanging on your Christmas tree at home. Bob gladly pulled out his wallet to buy it for you, his heart fluttering at the gorgeous smile that lit up your entire face when the vendor carefully wrapped it up and handed it to you.

“Thank you, Bobby. I can’t wait to put it on the tree when we get home,” you told him, carefully slipping the wrapped ornament into your purse.

“Anything for you, honey,” Bob murmured softly, kissing your forehead. “Alright, what’s our next stop?”

You and Bob continued to wander among the stalls for the next couple hours, stopping on occasion to take a photo or grab a snack—"This is sustenance," you grinned, holding up the little brown bag of freshly glazed almonds that you’d purchased for the two of you to munch on.

At one point, as you were admiring the work of a local artist, you heard the sound of the sweetest voices imaginable. Following the music, with Bob trailing closely behind, you walked a bit further up the path before stopping in front of a small choir made up of the most angelic looking children you had ever seen. The sign in front of the platform declared that they were students from a local school for children with special needs.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered, tears sparkling on your lashes as they sang the most beautiful version of “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” you had ever heard. Resting your head on your husband’s shoulder, you let the music wash over you, smiling brightly as they transitioned from one song to another.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there exactly—was it for three songs or six?—but when the children finally stopped singing, you and Bob burst into thunderous applause, prompting nearby onlookers to join in.

The pride on the children’s faces melted your heart as they shyly waved to the crowd and began making their way off the platform.

A little girl with Down syndrome, who couldn’t have been older than six or seven, suddenly broke away from the others and grabbed her mother’s hand, dragging her towards where you and your husband stood.

“Thank you for coming!” she said brightly, offering an adorable little gap-tooth smile.

“Thank you for having us!” you replied brightly, squatting down so that you were on eye level with her. “You all sounded amazing!”

To your surprise, the little girl lunged forward to wrap her arms around you in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” her mother exclaimed, touching her daughter’s shoulder and trying to pull her back.

“It’s alright,” you smiled, patting the little girl’s back before she let go. “No need to apologize.”

“Thank you for staying to listen for so long,” the woman said, looking between you and Bob. “The kids worked really hard on their program for today, so it was nice to have such a captive audience.”

“We were happy to do it, really,” Bob told her, smiling down at the little girl as he rested a hand on your lower back. “Christmas music is my wife’s favorite,” he told her conspiratorially.

Her eyes widened in delighted surprise. “Mine, too!”

You all laughed happily at that.

“Well, I hope you have an amazing Christmas and that Santa brings you everything you’re hoping for this year,” you told her, grinning at the way she lit up at the mention of Santa.

“Santa! Santa!” she cheered.

“That’s right,” her mother nodded, brushing her daughter’s hair back over her shoulder. “We should get going soon if we want to go see Santa. What do you say to the nice people who watched you sing?”

“Thank you!” the little girl said sweetly, giving both you and Bob another quick hug around the legs. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” you and Bob replied in unison, waving to both mother and daughter as you went your separate ways, smiling from ear to ear.

“You’re going to make an amazing mother one day,” Bob told you softly, the unadulterated adoration in his eyes warming you up from the inside out.

You just smiled dreamily in response, very much looking forward to the day when you would get to see Bob Floyd become a father.

“Well I think that was a very successful trip to the Christmas Market,” your husband said a few minutes later after you circled back to the center of the square.

“I had so much fun, honey. Thank you for thinking of this,” you told him, touched by the effort he’d made to bring you here and make it such a lovely afternoon.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Bob smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He glanced down at his watch and raised his eyebrows. “Oh, but we better get going if we want to stay on schedule. Still have a lot to do.”

“Wait…what?” you questioned, startled. “There’s more?”

“I said I had a lot planned, didn’t I?” That mischievous twinkle had returned to his eyes. “You didn’t think this was it, did you?”

“Bob Floyd, what do you have up your sleeve?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest and looking up at him with a quirked brow, trying and failing to mask the smile tugging at your lips.

“You’ll see,” was all he said, taking your hand and leading you back to the car.

If you had been uncertain about what your husband’s plans were when you’d arrived at Petco Park, you were doubly unsure what he had in mind when he turned onto the bridge connecting San Diego to Coronado.

“Are you taking me with you to work?” you wondered with a laugh, looking out the window at the afternoon sun sparkling on the San Diego Bay. You often told Bob that you were jealous of the view he got to enjoy on his commute to and from North Island.

Bob laughed at your question, but simply shook his head in response, turning up the radio as Mariah Carey began belting “All I Want for Christmas is You.”

“Hmmm, saved by the Queen of Christmas,” you joked, nudging him playfully as he took a turn off the bridge.

“Now, honey, you know that you’re the Queen of Christmas,” Bob retorted, winking at you as he made a few more turns.

“True,” you giggled, singing along to the radio until Hotel Coronado appeared in your sights, in all its glorious grandeur. You glanced over at Bob curiously, but he didn’t say anything as he searched for a parking spot.

“The suspense is killing me, Bobby,” you lamented, clinging onto his arm once he finally did manage to park the car. “What are we doing now?”

Turning to face you, Bob was struck once again by just how deeply he loved you. There was no one else he’d drag himself all over San Diego for on his day off from work.

“We’re going ice skating,” he explained, chuckling at the shocked expression on your face.

“You mean…Skating by the Sea?!” you gasped excitedly, practically bouncing up and down in your seat. “Bobby, you got tickets?”

“Sure did,” he nodded, pulling them out of his pocket to show you.

“Oh my gosh, how?” you breathed, reaching out to touch them as if you were afraid they would disappear.

“Mav knows a guy,” Bob chuckled, shaking his head affectionately as he thought of his boss and mentor.

As Hotel Coronado’s most popular winter attraction, it was nearly impossible to get tickets to Skating by the Sea during the Christmas season, but when Bob had mentioned it at work, Maverick had promised that he would be able to procure him a couple tickets. How he managed it, Bob didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know either. All that mattered was that you were looking at him right now like he had hung the moon and the stars, and there was no better reward than that.

“Ready to go?” Bob asked, holding out his hand to you.

“Ready!” you cheered, placing your hand in his and holding on tight.

It had been quite some time since you had actually been ice skating, and you were a bit rusty, especially in comparison to your midwestern husband, who had grown up ice skating on frozen ponds every winter. Still, despite your wobbly knees, you were determined to enjoy every moment of this experience.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Bob murmured encouragingly, holding tightly to your hands as he guided you onto the ice, sticking close to the wall in case you needed extra support.

“If you had told me we were coming, I could have brushed up on my skills ahead of time,” you teased, glancing down at your white rental skates as you carefully slid one foot in front of the other.

“And ruin the surprise and the look on your face when I told you what we were doing? Never,” he grinned, gently squeezing your hands as you slowly started to become more confident and steady on your feet. “You’ve got it, honey. Try looking up at me. I won’t let go,” he promised.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze from your feet up to your husband’s midsection, and then finally up to his face, that face that you adored more than anything else on this earth.

“There you go, you’ve got it. You’re doing such a good job,” Bob praised you, his confidence unshaken as he moved backwards across the ice. It was incredibly attractive how sure of himself he was out here.

“I think I’ve got it now. Want to try letting go?” you asked with a grin, feeling a little nervous but willing to give it a shot.

Smiling proudly, Bob nodded and slowly released his grip on your hands, letting you glide independently for a few seconds. You moved forward tentatively, your hands still out at your sides so that you could grab onto him—or the wall—if needed.

“That’s it, honey! Look at you go!” your husband cheered, making you laugh as you carefully made your way over to the opposite wall, which afforded you breathtaking views of the beach and the ocean beyond.

Seconds later, Bob skated up beside you, resting with you against the wall and enjoying the same view. “Pretty beautiful, huh?” he asked, gazing down at you.

“Insanely beautiful,” you agreed, resting your hand over his and squeezing gently. “I’m so glad we’re here.”

“Me, too,” Bob nodded, lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “But it doesn’t matter what we’re doing. I’m just so glad to be with you.”

“Honey,” you breathed out, touched by the sweetness of his words. They actually made you well up a little bit.

“I mean it, sweetheart. It’s not the things we do that make days like this special. It’s getting to do them with you. That’s all I really wanted. I’ve missed you these past few weeks,” he confessed.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. “I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Bob was quiet for a moment, just holding you close and resting his cheek atop your head.

“I love you so much, you know,” you told him, lifting your head to press a kiss to his jaw.

“I know,” he nodded, his mouth turning up in a tender smile. “I love you, too. More than anything.”

After a couple moments of comfortable silence, you took his hand and started to push away from the wall. “Come on, let’s go show everybody what an amazing skater you are,” you laughed, nearly toppling over in your eagerness. Thankfully, Bob had some of the quickest reflexes you’d ever seen and was there to catch you.

He was always there to catch you.

You and your husband spent the next hour twirling around on the ice, you trying your best not to fall and Bob trying his best to keep you from falling. By the time your legs were starting to ache in protest, the sun was just beginning to set over the beach, the sky exploding in hues of orange, pink, and red.

“Isn’t that the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen?” you whispered in awe, resting your cheek against your husband’s strong chest and soaking in the moment.

“A close second to you,” Bob replied, chuckling at the adorable way you got all flustered at his compliment. “C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get those skates off you.”

Stepping off the rink, Bob carefully guided you to a nearby bench and sat you down before squatting in front of you to untie your laces.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” you asked softly, reaching out to lightly caress his flushed cheek as he ministered to you.

“I ask myself the same thing every day when I get to wake up beside you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your knee before pulling your skates off. He then rose and plopped down beside you on the bench, pulling off his own skates with ease.

After you returned your rental skates and collected your things, Bob stopped you on the pathway near the beach and looked down at you.

“I hope you’ve worked up an appetite after all this,” he told you, a knowing smile on his face. “Because we’ve got one more stop.”

“We do? Oh, Bobby! This day has already been so special. I can’t imagine how it could get any better,” you declared, wondering what more he could possibly have in store.

“Wait and see,” Bob winked, taking your hand as you began strolling off hotel property and towards where you had parked “Oh, and I’ve got a little something in the car for you to change into.”

The last thing on earth you had been expecting when your husband handed you a small duffel bag out of the trunk of the car was to open it up and find the beautiful red dress you’d worn last Christmas—the one Bob hadn’t been able to stop gushing about or get you out of fast enough after Christmas dinner—and your favorite pair of high heels, plus the diamond studs and pendant he’d gifted you last year, the ones you only wore on very special occasions.

And yet, there you were, sitting beside your husband in the passenger seat of his car in your holiday finest, flying along the open road towards some unknown destination.

You weren’t the only one who had changed after your ice skating escapades. Bob had packed a second duffel, it seemed, for when you had returned from getting changed, he was waiting for you, no longer clad in his crew neck and jeans, but in a pair of black slacks and a dinner jacket, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar.

“For you,” he said with a wide smile, handing you a small bouquet of red and white roses—another surprise he’d been hiding in that trunk of his.

You held the sweet-smelling flowers close to your nose now as Bob made a few turns, heading in a direction that was not totally familiar to you.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” you whispered softly, a hint of emotion catching in your voice as you rested the beautiful bouquet in your lap. You couldn’t wait to put it in one of your Christmas vases when you got home and proudly display it on the coffee table in the living room.

Bob glanced over at you as he came to a red light, his blue eyes brimming with adoration as he soaked in how happy and content you looked. “You deserve it,” he told you, reaching out to rest a hand on your thigh, his fingers lightly stroking the inside of your knee. “You deserve all this and so much more. And I’m so lucky to be the man who gets to give it to you—or try anyway,” he added with a sheepish laugh.

Before the light could turn green, you leaned over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. “You succeed,” you murmured against his lips. “Every time. I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”

“I love you,” he smiled, caressing your cheek with the pad of his thumb before returning both hands to the wheel, ignoring the disgruntled driver who was honking behind him.

You giggled as you settled back in your seat with a happy sigh. “I love you, too, honey.” You paused for a moment or two, then tacked on, “Now will you tell me where we’re going?”

“Nice try,” Bob laughed, shooting you a sideways glance. “I haven’t spoiled any of my surprises today. You think I’m going to start now?”

“Oh, fine,” you replied, heaving a dramatic sigh and then grinning. “I can’t wait to find out what it is though.”

“I have a feeling you’re really going to love it,” he said, his smile warmer than the San Diego sun as he tapped his hands excitedly on the steering wheel, his own anticipation building.

“I know I will,” you nodded, lifting the bouquet of roses to your nose once more and taking a delicate sniff. “I love anything so long as I’m doing it with you.”

A few minutes later, Bob made a final turn that led the two of you up a winding, gorgeously manicured road. Leaning forward, you gazed out the window eagerly, trying to place exactly where you were. At that exact moment, a large sign came into view that read FAIRMONT GRAND DEL MAR.

Gasping in delight, you practically had your nose smushed against the glass as your husband drove past stunning gardens and twinkling fountains, all decked out with the most darling, demure decorations you had ever seen.

Fairmont Grand Del Mar was one of the most luxurious and glamorous hotels in all of Southern California, and while it was basically right in your own backyard, you had never stepped foot on its grounds before.

You suddenly found yourself very grateful that your jeans and sweater were safely tucked away in a duffel bag. Thank goodness your brilliant husband thought of everything.

“Oh my goodness, Bobby!” you squealed, covering your mouth to try to control the delighted laughter that was bubbling up inside you. But it was no use. “It’s so beautiful here!”

“It is, isn’t it?” Bob hummed in agreement, taking in the view as he slowed his pace along the property’s winding pathways. “A beautiful girl in a beautiful place. Sounds about right to me,” he added, eyes sparkling behind his glasses.

You just smiled at that, a pleasant warmth rushing to your cheeks as you tried to take in as much of the views as you could. As if the hotel grounds weren’t breathtaking enough on their own, they’d clearly gone to great lengths to turn the property into a winter wonderland for the holidays and they had more than succeeded. You loved every inch of it.

Moments later, after Bob had helped you out of the car and handed his keys off to a valet parker, he wrapped an arm around your waist and led you into the lobby of what seemed to be one of the hotel’s restaurants. It was elegantly designed, with Persian rugs and cream-colored marble walls, scrolled detailing on the ceiling, and a roaring fireplace to give the room a cozy, inviting atmosphere. It was decorated for the season with class—golden candelabras, dark red poinsettias, aromatic garland wrapped in red ribbons and bows, giant wreaths practically the size of you hanging on the walls.

It felt like a little Christmas paradise.

You were thankful for Bob’s strong hand on your back, guiding you along as you tripped over your own two feet, gazing around the room in unabashed awe.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he whispered in your ear as you approached the host stand. “I’ll make sure to take lots of pictures of you in that gorgeous dress with this perfect Christmas backdrop,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I want you in the pictures, too,” you whispered back, grinning as you squeezed his hand where it was resting on your hip. “Too bad we didn’t think to come here for our Christmas card photo,” you added, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“Next year,” Bob winked. He managed to tear his gaze away from you only when the two of you finally got to the stand and the hostess looked at you expectantly.

“Good evening,” she said in a voice that was calm, cool, and cultured. “Do you have a reservation with us tonight?”

“Yes,” Bob told her, squeezing your hip softly as he spoke. “Dinner for two. It should be under Floyd.”

The hostess checked her computer screen and smiled. “Ah, yes. We’re pleased to welcome you tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Floyd. Please, follow me,” she said, leading you through a small maze of elegantly set tables, bedecked with what appeared to be antique tablecloths, romantic candles, and subtle hints of holly and garland.

The three of you finally came to a stop at a cozy table right near a window which overlooked the gardens, a twinkling Christmas tree right in your line of vision.

“Your server will be right with you,” the hostess told you as the two of you got settled in your seats. “We hope you very much enjoy our special Christmas menu here at Fairmont Grand Del Mar,” she added with a gracious smile before turning to head back to her post.

“Thank you,” you murmured with a soft smile, maintaining every ounce of decorum you could possibly muster until the woman was out of earshot. Then you let out a delighted squeal, the same sound you used to make when opening your presents on Christmas morning as a little girl. “Bobby! This is incredible! How did you manage this?” you demanded, gaping at him in amazement. Then you giggled. “Wait, let me guess. Mav knows another guy?”

“Actually this time, it was Payback who knew a guy,” Bob laughed, reaching across the table to take your hand in his, brushing his thumb across your soft skin. “His cousin works concierge at the hotel, so he managed to pull a few strings.”

“Amazing,” you grinned, squeezing his hand lovingly. “Don’t let me forget to thank Mav and Reuben when I see them at the party.”

“Just Mav and Reuben?” he teased, pretending to be wounded.

You leaned in a little closer, lowering your voice as you told him, “Well I’m going to give you a proper thank you tonight.” Your eyes sparkled in tandem with the diamond pendant hanging around your neck.

Bob’s cheeks turned bright pink as he caught your meaning, and he reached up to tug lightly at the collar of his shirt, clearing his throat.

Winking, you leaned back with a smile. Your husband was saved from having to come up with a reply by the sudden appearance of your waiter, an older, dignified man named Antonio, who greeted you both warmly as he shared some drink recommendations.

Despite the fact that Bob hardly ever drank, he ordered the two of you a bottle of champagne that came highly recommended, which Antonio happily delivered along with a bucket of ice.

“To you, sweetheart,” Bob toasted, lifting the flute that your waiter had filled just a moment earlier. “This time of year wouldn’t be half as special if it wasn’t for you.”

“No, to you,” you smiled, raising your own champagne flute to mirror your husband’s. “Today was beyond words, and none of it would have been possible without you.”

“To us then,” he grinned, compromising as he tipped his glass towards you.

“To us,” you nodded in agreement, lightly clinking your glass against his before taking a sip. “Mmm, that’s delicious,” you murmured appreciatively, licking a drop of the champagne off your lip.

“Mhm,” Bob hummed, looking almost surprised. “I mean, not that I have much to compare to, but I’d say this is the best champagne I’ve ever had.”

“Better than at our wedding?” you joked.

“I stand corrected. This is the second best champagne I’ve ever had,” he chuckled.

You and Bob relaxed into smooth and easy conversation. Both your mothers would have scolded you for resting your elbows on the table, especially in such a fancy restaurant, but neither of you cared as you leaned in closer to one another, whispering over the candlelight as the twinkling lights outside the window illuminated your lovestruck faces. Faintly, in the distance, you could hear the soft sounds of classic Christmas tunes being played on a piano. It was the most perfect evening you could have imagined.

The food was some of the best you’d ever tasted. After much debate, you finally settled on the filet mignon with a bearnaise sauce, roasted vegetables, and what had to be the world’s creamiest mashed potatoes, while Bob selected the pork medallions with roasted garlic fingerling potatoes and a brussel sprout salad. Although really it was hard to say who had ordered what considering the way you kept picking food off each other’s plates.

By the time the sour-cherry cheesecake trifle that the two of you had ordered for the grand finale came out, you felt like you were going to burst right out of your pretty red dress. But like you always said, there was always room for dessert.

“You want to know the craziest thing?” you asked, looking up at Bob as you set your fork down on the plate resting between you and your husband. When he nodded at you, you went on, “I just realized that I didn’t think about any of my holiday planning at all today—the shopping, my work party, the parties we’re hosting, none of it. It didn’t cross my mind at all even though it’s all I’ve been thinking about these past few weeks. Isn’t that funny?”

Bob set his fork down as well and gazed at you from across the table, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile. “Good,” he said, reaching out to take your hand in his once more, gently playing with your wedding band. “That was my mission, and it sounds like it was a success. I wanted today to be a day where you just got to have fun and enjoy this time of year. I know how much it means to you, and I also know that it’ll be over in the blink of an eye, so we have to make the most of it while we can.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you felt the corners of your eyes pricking with happy tears. Your husband was truly the most thoughtful, selfless, caring man you had ever known. You would never know what you had ever done to get so lucky as to find him.

“Oh, Bobby,” you breathed out, mimicking his actions and lightly rolling his wedding band underneath your finger as you reached for his other hand. You were quiet for a moment, then thought of his words from earlier, the words that had been niggling the back of your mind on and off since you’d left the ice skating rink. “What you said before,” you began slowly, chewing on your bottom lip, “about missing me these past few weeks. Have I really been that busy? I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, honey, no,” Bob gasped, squeezing your hands tightly in his own. “I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty. I’ve just been worried about you, that’s all. You’re always so happy this time of year, and I know how much it means to you, so I hate to see you running yourself ragged like you have been. I guess I was starting to be afraid that you were going to burn yourself out before Christmas even got here.”

Your heart constricted at the genuine concern in his voice, at the way he was always looking out for you, even when you weren’t paying careful enough attention.

“And I have missed you,” he added softly, lifting one of your hands to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to it.

“I’ve missed you, too, honey,” you whispered, your throat clogging with emotion as you thought of the many nights you’d come home later than usual after running to the stores after work, too tired to curl up on the couch and watch a movie with your husband or just get to enjoy his company. “And you’re right—I have been running myself ragged. I can feel it. I’ve been so tired, and I feel like I don’t even have the time to enjoy all my favorite traditions.” You sighed softly, shaking your head. “I just—I just wanted everything to be perfect this year, you know?”

“It always is perfect,” Bob murmured encouragingly, gently stroking the inside of your wrist with his calloused fingertips, his movements slow and soothing.

“I know, but with it being our first married Christmas, I guess I just wanted it to be really perfect. I got it into my head that we needed to start all these new traditions and that I had to keep on top of everything at all times to make sure that it happened, but now I’m realizing that in the process of all that, I lost sight of what’s most important about celebrating our first Christmas as husband and wife—you,” you admitted, reaching up to lovingly cup his cheek in your hand.

He smiled softly at your words, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to the inside of your palm. “Sweetheart, the good news is that we have a whole lifetime of making traditions together. So long as it’s you and me, then that’s all I need,” he promised you.

You nodded, a couple stray tears spilling down your cheeks, which you wiped away with a sheepish little laugh. “You’re right. Today was a pretty good start to some Floyd Christmas traditions, I think,” you told him with a grin.

Bob reached out to thumb away the tears sparkling like diamonds on your skin. “I agree,” he smiled. “But the truth is, I don’t care what we’re doing. We could go ice skating on the beach or watch a movie on the couch. We could have a five-star dinner at the Fairmont Grand Del Mar or eat take-out on the kitchen floor.” He glanced around for a moment, just to check if anyone had heard him, his blue eyes laughing as he turned back to you. “I just want to do it with you. That’s what Christmas really means to me, sweetheart. All the other stuff, that’s icing on the cake.”

“I love you so much,” you whispered, leaning across the table and capturing his mouth with your own, the taste of sour cherries and champagne still clinging to his lips.

His fingers tangled in your hair as he cradled the back of your head and kissed you back until you were both sitting breathless in your chairs.

“You’re the love of my life,” he told you. “No matter how many traditions come and go, that’s one thing that will never change.”

As soon as you and Bob got home that night, exhausted in the best way after a perfect day together, you both ran to change into the Christmas pajamas you’d worn last Christmas Eve, then curled up on the couch with steaming mugs of hot cocoa to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas.

“Tired?” Bob asked softly as the Peanuts crew sang “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” while the credits rolled.

“Mmm, a little,” you nodded, lifting your head from where it had been resting on his shoulder.

“Ready to head to bed?” he yawned, pushing the blanket back and rising from the couch before turning to hold his hands out to you.

“Mhm,” you murmured, slipping your hands into your husband’s and allowing him to pull you to your feet. “But not to go to sleep just yet,” you added pointedly.

At your husband’s raised brows, you giggled softly.

“I still have to properly thank you for today,” you reminded him with a playful wink.

You had never seen him move so fast.

That Christmas turned out to be one of the best you’d ever celebrated. Your work party went off without a hitch, the Daggers were already talking about how they needed to make a party at the Floyds’ an annual Christmas tradition, and your families loved getting to spend the holidays together as one huge unit. Every gift you’d purchased was well received and every meal you cooked was touted as the best anyone had ever eaten.

But that wasn’t what made it so special.

As you had been reminded this year, Christmas was about so much more than the planning and the presents and the parties. Those things were nice, sure, but they weren’t what made this time of year so magical.

What made this Christmas so perfect was the handsome man with blue eyes and a wide smile waiting for you beneath the mistletoe.

He was the only gift you needed, today and every day for the rest of your life.

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

Do you think that book!Alicent was a one dimensional evil stepmother and the show has fixed her by making her a sad victim of the men around her? I don't agree with this take but i see so many people argue in favour of stripping her of her agency in the show in that book!Alicent was nothing but a misogynistic caricature made by the sexist maesters.

Thanks for this question anon! I had actually been meaning to write something about the "evil stepmother" accusations that get thrown at book!Alicent because having recently re-read F&B, I just don't see it.

First of all, and I think most notably, Alicent's relationship with Rhaenyra doesn't really deteriorate completely until Daemon returns to court. Before that, we don't really have much information about the first few years of Viserys' marriage. The fandom likes to claim that Alicent was beefing with a 9 year old but that isn't really backed up with much evidence. After the account that nine year old Rhaenyra poured for her new stepmother at Alicent and Viserys' wedding (and on a seriously wtf note, helped undress her father for the bedding, but that's another topic), the next words we have about Alicent and Rhaenyra are when Alicent quips, about Rhaenyra's relationship with Criston Cole, "Ser Criston protects the princess from her enemies, but who protects the princess from Ser Criston?" And y'all? This is not beefing or bullying. Alicent is pointing out that Rhaenyra, now about 13-ish, is in a vulnerable position as an unmarried young woman. Is she also possibly picking up on some weird predatory vibes with Criston? Perhaps (which is also also interesting, considering Criston later defects to Alicent's camp)! Remember, book!Criston is only a year younger than Daemon, so anything between them would not only be completely off limits because Criston is a kingsguard, but also extremely inappropriate just based on their ages alone. Regardless, Rhaenyra is at this point surrounded by a lot of men ("many lords and knights sought her favor") and Alicent alone seems cognizant of the danger this poses.

After this, the relationship between Alicent and Rhaenyra evidently deteriorates, but we're not told precisely how, only that the "amity between Her Grace and her stepdaughter had proved short lived, for both Rhaenyra and Alicent aspired to be the first lady of the realm..." Keep in mind, this is Gyldayn editorializing without a source, and as for being "first lady of the realm," it's just as likely that Rhaenyra was jealous of her stepmother's position as queen as it was that Alicent had any particular animosity towards Rhaenyra. In any case, the book does not suggest that either of them are at fault for the breakdown.

This is also around the time that Otto gets sent home for bugging Viserys about the succession, so that probably had something to do with it, although this still does not amount to Alicent beefing with a child, as it's doubtful she brought up the situation to Rhaenyra herself, but rather she and Otto brought the issue to Viserys. And although I don't really want to get into the succession weeds here, I do want to make it clear that the expectation that Viserys would make his firstborn son his heir was an entirely reasonable one. Everywhere except for Dorne, sons inherit before daughters, and if Viserys had made it clear before he married Alicent that he had no intention of replacing Rhaenyra as heir, Otto might not have married Alicent to Viserys in the first place. There are multiple examples of men with daughters but no sons remarrying in order to get a male heir. It's the only reason Corlys offered Laena as a bride to Viserys (and, arguably, Corlys would have had the leverage to force the issue, which is perhaps one reason why he did not choose Laena). And it wasn't just Otto and Alicent-- people asked "what of the ruling of the Great Council in 101?" But Viserys basically told naysayers to shut up and stop asking. Okay.

Then we have the dress incident, and at this point Rhaenyra is 14, Daemon is back in town, and there's a tourney on. Alicent wears a green dress, Rhaenyra wears a black and red one. It's interesting that in this chapter, no additional context is given to this event. Much earlier in F&B, we do learn that the High Tower is lit green to call its banners against Maegor the Cruel. The show makes this association clear, but Gyldayn does not say that Alicent did this as a declaration of war on Rhaenyra, only that "the queen wore a green gown, whilst the princess dressed dramatically in Targaryen red and black." If you've read F&B, you know that Gyldayn loves editorializing, so the fact that the association made by the show is completely omitted here suggest that Gyldayn lacked this context, or people at the time of the event simply thought it was a green dress with no additional meaning, or perhaps he expected in-world readers to draw their own conclusions (although it's kind of unlike Gyldayn to resist showing off his knowledge when he can). Regardless, after that, the people gave them the nickname the blacks and the greens, and it stuck.

Anyway, it's clear Alicent and Rhaenyra aren't getting along at this point, and they probably resent each other, but there is no mention of Alicent actually doing anything whatsoever to harm Rhaenyra, much less "bullying a child who has just lost her mother" or "beefing with a nine year old." This seems to be a complete invention. Given that book!Rhaenyra is a spoiled only child, by this point a teenager, accustomed to having her father's undivided attention, and now he has a new wife and at this point three new children in his life, it's equally likely that Rhaenyra was feeling displaced and acting out. However, instead of giving her any helpful guidance or correcting her, the trusted adults in her life reinforce her negative feelings, and as we'll see, even use those insecurities to manipulate her. As for Alicent "poisoning her children against Rhaenyra," there's simply zero evidence to back this up. In fact, what eventually happens would seem to suggest that Alicent was at least somewhat concerned about the hostility between her children and Rhaenyra. And here is when things really break down, because this is where Daemon really starts to stir the pot.

Before the tourney, Daemon had been fighting in the stepstones. He returns to King's Landing a hero, and immediately latches onto Rhaenyra. As for Alicent, "although he treated her with all the courtesy due her station, there was no warmth between them, and men said that the prince was notably cool towards her children, especially his nephews, Aegon and Aemond, whose birth had pushed him still lower in the order of succession." So who is, in fact beefing with children? Daemon Targaryen. At the same time, Daemon starts cozying up to Rhaenyra, giving her extravagant gifts, telling her stories, and doing the one thing that is absolutely sure to win over a teenager, being a hater. Daemon hones in on Rhaenyra's issues with Alicent and together they have a great deal of fun openly mocking Alicent and her children, and what Daemon called the "lickspittles" who were in Alicent's camp. This works very well on Rhaenyra because of course it does! Daemon is the cool dragonriding uncle, the handsome Rogue Prince, and Rhaenyra is eating up the attention. She and Daemon have dragonraces and he tells her she's much prettier than Alicent and strokes that teenage ego. It's also at this point that the rumors about Daemon and Rhaenyra having a sexual relationship begin, and Daemon supposedly asks for Rhaenyra's hand in marriage because "who else would take her now?" Keep in mind, she's fourteen. And whether it's true or not, Viserys exiles Daemon again. He goes back to the Stepstones, and things settle down in King's Landing.

Of course the relationship between between Rhaenyra and her stepmother is bad by this point. Her and Daemon have just spent six months mocking her and her children and their supporters. Aegon is only about four or five years old, so the beef has got to be pretty one sided, although even little kids can tell when they're being given the cold shoulder or laughed at. Rhaenyra even makes a point of always referring to them as her half-brothers, rather than simply as her brothers. Still, a few years pass, Rhaenyra is now sixteen, and it's time for her to get married. Alicent proposes she marry Aegon, and one of the reasons she gives is that they don't get along well. "All the more reason to bind them together in marriage," Alicent says, acknowledging that Rhaenyra hating her now six year old younger brother is in fact a big fucking problem. If Alicent hoped for Rhaenyra and Aegon to marry, why on earth would she poison her children against Rhaenyra? But Viserys shoots this idea down, saying "the boy is Alicent's own blood. She wants him on the throne." And yes, of course she does, but she probably also wants him to stay alive.

So, Rhaenyra marries Laenor, and after that there's really no point in trying to maintain any sort of stepmother relationship, is there? Rhaenyra is now an adult, she's married, and she's made her feelings about Alicent and her siblings very clear. At this point, Alicent has to look out for the safety of her children, who are going to be Rhaenyra's biggest rivals. And if they dislike their older half-sister, who can blame them? Again, this is a girl who spent the better half of six months laughing at them. Rhaenyra did nothing but sabotage that relationship. And if Alicent decides she's going to fight for Aegon's inheritance, she's only doing what any mother in her position would do. There's no evidence she does it for power or greed, she simply does it because she doesn't owe Rhaenyra anything and letting someone who is actively hostile to her children take the throne unchallenged, especially when that person's claim is untraditional to say the least, and seen by many as being weaker than that of her sons, would be taking a huge risk with their lives. There's nothing "evil" in Alicent's actions. Book!Alicent did not bully Rhaenyra, did not "beef with a nine year old," or "poison her children against Rhaenyra," in fact, she did what she could to bind them together, but Rhaenyra, (at least in part taking her cues from Viserys and Daemon), was simply not interested. And you know, that's fine too, Rhaenyra doesn't have to love her stepmother or care about her half-brothers. They're much younger and it's natural that she wouldn't be much interested in them. But as heir to the throne? It sure would have been a much smarter idea to cultivate those relationships.

Book!Alicent isn't an "evil stepmother" though either, after a certain point she she simply prioritizes her own children over someone who has made it abundantly clear she has no use for any of them.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

One massive difference between the western vs JP TWST fandoms that I haven't seen anyone else talk about is that the Japanese fandom seems to dwell in "grimdark" territory while the western one tries to see the best in these characters. From my glimpses into the Japanese fandom, they seem to see these character's darkness as the main appeal. That's reflected in their fanworks, since yandere works or things that dive into their dark sides are more popular there. While there is plenty of yandere content in the west, it seems more like a niche than the most popular way to portray the characters in fics where as in Japan that seems to be the norm on Pixiv. The JP seem to LOVE their grim dark fan theories WAY more than the western one. The western fandom seems like the opposite. Works seeing their humanity, them being decent partners, etc is the norm. Thought?

“I can fix him” vs “I can make him worse”—

Mmm, I have many thoughts on this but before I get into them I want to clarify some things. This is so everyone reading is running with the same definitions and thus can better understand (and perhaps contribute to) the discussion.

Firstly, “grimdark” can refer to any and all materials which people may find disturbing, amoral, and/or violent. Grimdark is NOT just yandere content. Although yandere content is an example of grimdark, not all grimdark is yandere.

Secondly, I want to dispel the notion that “grimdark” and “seeing the best in the characters” are opposites. They are actually not mutually exclusive; it is entirely possible to have the two overlap. For example, it is common for assassins to be after Kalim’s life (which is dark). However, Kalim himself is very cheery despite being cognizant of this (which is not dark, he is able to see the nest of this situation and is often praised for being a spot of sunshine in the cast). There are also much darker takes while staying true to Kalim’s caring nature, such as fandom works which portray his big heart (a strength) as a detriment, causing him to fall into deep paranoia and/or guilt. For the purposes of this discussion, I will still refer back to those two original viewpoints, just be aware that they are not truly “opposites”.

Lastly, the ask is phrased such that it suggests that dark content is “the norm” in Japanese circles. In actuality, the content you see is dependent on personal biases and what the algorithms feed you based on your likes and communities. While it’s true that perhaps Japanese fandoms have more dark content than the western fandoms, that doesn’t necessarily mean it is “the norm”. It is still considered niche, it is just that the fandom culture of Japan is more open-minded about these depictions, as well as fans’ choices to filter out dark content if they do not wish to encounter it. Western fandoms are very different in this regard. Rather than ignoring content they dislike or find disturbing, western fans tend to adopt an attitude of openly renouncing that which they dislike and, at times, calling out those that do enjoy that kind of thing. It is this social stigma and pressure within western fandoms which creates a less welcoming space for dark content to exist and to be publicly shared. Rather than saying one type of content is “the norm”, I think it’s more accurate to say certain types of content are deemed as being “acceptable” or “unacceptable” depending on the fandom culture.

Now then, as to why the western fandom in particular tends to favor works that show the TWST characters in a favorable light rather than focus on their darker aspects? There are many possible explanations for this:

Cultural differences in fandom spaces. I already mentioned this in the opening paragraphs, but it warrants repeating here. Japanese fans are much more reserved in how they express themselves and tend to keep quiet relating to content they dislike or don’t care for. Western fans are more outspoken and may actively “call out” what they dislike. This is typically observed in collectivist vs individualist countries, as conformity with the group/not causing disruptions to the group harmony and standing out and being one’s own individual are opposing ideologies and values.

Japan’s culture is one that stresses the importance of politeness and being proper. The country has strict social expectations of people and especially women (which makes up the majority of TWST’s fanbase). It is only in the realm of fiction where Japanese women are able to freely express themselves and to explore subject matter deemed socially inappropriate, however dark it may be. Fandom is their creative outlet. Meanwhile in the west, it’s the opposite. Overt uniqueness is more acceptable overall, but there is also a present effort of policing online content, often in the name of social activism and inclusion. This makes sense for western countries, many of which sport much more diverse populations than Japan.

Going in with the certain expectations of the game. Many western fans mistook Twisted Wonderland for a dating sim when its marketing materials first released, maybe due to a language barrier. This set them up for the wrong expectations about romancing and potentially “fixing” a villain, even when the game finally came out (due to residual feelings; I know for a fact there are still a handful of fans who want TWST to have a dating sim spinoff or wish the game had been a dating sim from the start).

Changes made in the localization.

I’m not sure what the ratio of westerners playing EN to JP, but the official localization made several changes which “blunted” some details or changed the context of some characters’ stories. For example, Jamil is no longer a “servant” but an “employee”, Kalim is his “employer”, not “master”, and Jamil complains that his parents will be “so mad at him” when he is asked why he doesn’t rebel against the Asims whole the consequences are made much more explicit in JP (his family will be thrown out onto the streets). Cater, Floyd, and Idia have also notably gotten a lot more memey dialogue that was not there in the original. These softened versions the characters may make western fans more likely to see the a less severe backstory or have goofier interpretation of certain characters.

Popular western media’s interpretations of villains. A lot of western media nowadays tries to redeem the bad guys. For example, in many young adult and adult romance fantasy novels, the love interest is often presented as a misunderstood bad boy that has a change of heart because of the protagonist. Disney themselves is also guilty of “softening” many of their more recent villains and giving new backstories to older villains to make them more sympathetic (Maleficent, Cruella, etc). Compare this to “classic” era Disney villains, who are just evil for the sake of being evil. These will naturally inform the general public’s views on villains. (It is also to be noted that Disney villains and specifically their evilness are extremely popular in Japan. They are adored for being fun characters, not necessarily admired for being bad.)

Disney’s reputation, especially in the west. The company is closely associated with fairy tales —and, more importantly, with magic and happy endings. This, too, may contribute to western fans wanting to look on the “bright side” of things and wish for happy endings for characters that are, in fact, part of the Disney brand. The Disney message is perhaps strongest in the west due to having its origins there:

The age differences between the Japanese and the western fandoms. The western TWST fandom skews young overall whereas the Japanese TWST fandom is older (which is why a lot of TWST merch you’ll see is expensive household goods and fashion; this is to appeal to working Japanese women). As I mentioned in the previous point, this means younger audiences in the west may mostly encounter media which presents villains in a more sympathetic light, or at least much earlier (which leaves a stronger impression). This makes them more inclined to view other media in a way which is more flattering for the villains even when they are dark or morally ambiguous in canon.

Younger fans may also be not as informed and thus lack some perspective, which means they may have more limited views. A 15 year old wouldn’t have as much life experience as a 20 year old—that’s not a bad thing, it’s an objective truth that has an impact on their perspective. They may see things more simplistically or see easier solutions to complex problems. Younger fans may, for example, be able to identify circumstances as being traumatic or unfair (such as the case with Jamil’s past and Leona’s desire to introduce new technologies to his home country) but may not understand the full ramifications (ie why Jamil cannot just leave or have Kalim to speak with his dad about it, how difficult Leona’s plans would be to implement as well as the social pushback due to the harm the advances could pose to the environment). This leads to more of a lean to positive content, as dark content would inherently mean problems are much more difficult to resolve and have more factors to them than what was originally considered.

I want to also point out that younger fans are especially concerned with what their peers may think of them, and so they may feel too embarrassed to dabble in darker content. Some dark content may also not be perceived as appropriate depending on the fan’s age. Alternatively, some fans may just not feel comfortable exploring those ideas (and that’s totally fine!).

Western fans project onto/relate to the characters they love. I’m not saying that Japanese fans don’t do this, but I feel like western fans tend to do this to a VERY strong and sometimes parasocial degree (which has its roots in comfort character and kinning culture, things which largely do not exist in east Asian fandoms). Like… western fans can relate to a character so deeply that any criticism of that character can feel like a personal attack on them, the fan. Likewise, if that character is presented as having flaws or doing questionable things (even if it is canon), the fans that are strongly projecting onto the character may feel that they themselves are flawed or somehow “bad” too. This can lead into trying to defend or justify the character’s flaws or actions. Maybe a fan that has shared trauma with a character sees them as a proxy and want to see the character (and thus, themselves) in a positive way or in good situations. In eastern fandoms, it is more appropriate to consider the character a separate entity rather than relating to or projecting onto them.

The western rise in moral justification for the content one consumes. This is a big one, and it has been alluded to in some of the other points. There is this belief circulating in western fandom spaces that “the content you consume reflects your real world values and morals”. So… if you believe that (or are in a social space where it is believed) and happen to like evil or morally grey characters, what does that imply about your own character? Does that mean you are morally bankrupt or that you condone bad things? Personally, I don’t think so but I understand why this way of thinking could make people feel ashamed. They may avoid looking at “dark” interpretations of a character and instead focus on wholesome feel-good content so that the content they consume reflects “well” on themselves. In other cases, fans may try to twist the bad points of a character to make it “morally okay” to like them.

That’s everything I could come up with off the top of my head!! I hope this was interesting to read and maybe helped you see the international TWST fandom from a new perspective. With that, I’ll leave you with this relevant Wreck-It Ralph quote: “I’m bad, and that’s good. I will never be good, and that’s not bad. There’s no one I’d rather be than me.”

[dionewrites]

𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃. ˚₊ HEADCANONS // ft. Mammon 1k words · GN!Reader · SFW · Feel-good & Fluff ♛ Masterlist | Request Guidelines

⚠ Content Warning: Mention of his demon form, debts and creditors, Mammon being jealous, and reader being insecure, insulted, stressed, and unhappy. ✎ Note: I finally finished it! It took me four days because my assignments these past few days wore me out. Leviathan’s next to my list~ ♡

Mammon never thought he’d have a special someone back then, more so to be swept off his feet by a human. However, after meeting and spending time with you, you constantly occupy his mind at every moment of the day, adamantly dwell in his heart, and eventually become a part of him.

He adores you just the way you are. He’s already impressed by you and who you are and undoubtedly captivated by your charms when you’re yourself; hence you don’t have to change anything about yourself to prove, please, or win his approval. You don’t always have to be the best version of yourself with him because he accepts and embraces all parts of you. It’s okay not to be strong all the time. It’s okay not to do well and stumble a little bit.

Even by just existing, you’re already enough and the best in his eyes—and whoever dares to speak otherwise and insult you will drive him to turn into his demon form and goes into a serious and protective mode. He has quite a long history of being criticized and belittled harshly; therefore, he certainly doesn’t want you to go through that as well, especially since you never deserve to be treated that way. This demon rarely transforms into his form and loses his temper, but trust me; he doesn’t and will never hold himself back when it comes to matters concerning you.

He wants to be always there for you through good and especially during bad times, just like you do whenever he feels he has no one to lean on. Although he thinks and feels he couldn’t accomplish anything that utterly helps you or your situation, he still wants to do his utmost and be there for and with you no matter what, despite his belief that he may not be necessary or you might be able to manage it on your own. He silently hopes for his presence or the ambiance he creates by being there to comfort, give you peace and assurance, and be your safe place.

On top of that, he knows he’s not good with words, so most of the time, he expresses his concern and affection for you through little actions, such as carrying out your assigned house chores or errands before you can even do them, cooking or buying your favorite foods to make sure you eat, leaving presents for you that reminds him of you or something he thinks you’d like, taking you to spontaneous trips or late night drives around the Devildom with only the two of you, and simply laying your head on his shoulders or chest while he plays with your hands and fingers.

To make you laugh or entertain, he once begged involved his crow familiars in creating a special and memorable performance for you. He got that idea after watching the moonfish scene in Finding Nemo and thought it’ll bring a smile to your face. 

Even though he’ll not verbally admit it, he works hard to be the best one for you. He’s cognizant of his shortcomings, especially with his financial troubles, and being with him as his partner means you’re also inevitably involved in his mess. All the “love letters” his older brother received and settled back then now fall and entrust to your hands and shoulders (though Lucifer still helps occasionally if necessary). All the witches or other species he has serious business with might come to you instead of him. Thus, he spares no effort to control his sin and avoids getting into grave trouble that might implicate and burden you.

Nothing goes unnoticed by him to anything about you. He’s extra-observant and secretly takes notes of what attracts your attention. Spectacles? He wears it the next day. Blue? He’ll wear blue and buys gifts for you only in that color. Flowers? Expect him to give you a bouquet; if he’s short of money, you’ll receive them as origami (which looks ugly clumsy, but give him an A+ for the thought and effort). Whenever he sees you, he always fixes himself to look more presentable and attractive before you notice him. Everything revolves around keeping you interested and impressed by him; hence, he wants to look good in your eyes.

Although he’s terrible at keeping his surprises for you a secret, he never forgets and misses your birthdays and anniversaries. This demon has those special days on his mind months before the actual date and is excited to celebrate it with you.

He calls you “babe” verbally but “baby” in his mind. Every time he slips the tongue, he’ll blush really hard because he feels awkward and embarrassed that you’ll think of it as a cringe. After all, you’re a grown person, but he really can’t stop himself from addressing you like that, especially when he’s over the moon.

Whenever he’s full of the joys of spring, he loves hugging and spinning you around or taking you in his arms, lifting you up, and twirling you around while giggling and pecking on your cheeks, nose, and forehead. Once he realizes what he just did, he flushes but still proceeds to shower you words of love and appreciation.

When he’s jealous, he becomes quiet and grumpy. He’ll instantly grab your attention back to him with a long face, and if you still don’t stop or pay no heed to him, he’ll put his arms around your shoulder while scowling at the one/s he’s jealous of, or he’ll just take you away and kiss you somewhere until you’re out of breath.

His love languages are gift-giving and quality time. He’s constantly reminded of everything about you, so he can’t resist buying something when you’re not with him to make you happy and satisfied. Seeing you smile makes him feel warm and giddy. He also loves being with you all the time and receiving your whole and undivided attention because, for him, as long as you’re with him or it involves you, it’s all worthwhile.

Dating Mammon means being someone’s everything. Despite being in the grip of greed toward money, he values and loves you more than anything and anyone in three worlds. After all, you’re the only one who sees the best in him when others only always see the worst. That being so, just say a word, and he’s more than willing to give you everything and more.

[techhasmjolnir]

Trivial Pursuit

Plot: It is a dark, stormy night... Wait, let's not use that trope for the millionth time, shall we?

You're home alone thinking your plans for the night are cancelled, but things change quickly when Tech comes home late and wants to pursue what the two of you originally planned...with a major twist neither of you envision.

Author's Notes:

This is my first time crafting a Bad Batch story, let alone a smutty one. I wrote this after receiving inspiration and encouragement from a friend of mine, and I'm quite proud of the final result. I usually don't write anything on a very short scale, so while this is a one-shot story, it is quite lengthy (word count is 12,450).

Some sections have notes in parentheses, listing names of songs and artists I paired with the scenes at hand. I strongly suggest looking them up as you read, in hopes you can make your own connections to the story that much stronger.

Important Notes:

This content is strictly for audiences 18+. The roles in this story assume female readers & Tech. Concepts introduced include: dirty talk, fingering, M & F masturbation, oral sex (giving & receiving), PiV, creampie, female ejaculation, and soft dom Tech.

Summer nights on Coruscant bring one of two things – either endless, driving rain or nearly unbearable heat and humidity. Tonight is the former; the rain spatters angrily against the windows of your high-rise apartment in the Uscru District. Despite the inclement weather, the entertainment district still bustles with throngs of beings from every corner of the galaxy. You wisely choose to stay in tonight, knowing that you could have been out in any one of the district's numerous clubs, but then you remember that when it rains, the clubs become overwhelmingly claustrophobic with seas of bodies looking to stay dry.

Tech sent you a holo-message earlier in the afternoon, letting you know he wouldn't be home for dinner, as he and the rest of the guys were experiencing a few mechanical issues with the Marauder, and needed to stop for emergency repairs. You're disappointed, because it was supposed to be a stay home date night for the both of you, but you're pragmatic; machines are made to eventually break, and the Marauder is no exception.

Since you're already having dinner alone, you decide to load up your browser with half a dozen scientific journals you'd been meaning to catch up on. Pouring yourself a glass of desert wine (the real deal, too – you'd been lucky to exchange services with someone coming back from Tatooine who had a bottle directly from the Tuskens), you take your dinner and sit on the floor in the immense pile of thick, fluffy blankets you threw down to create a nest, of sorts. You know what will happen. You'll read one article. One becomes three. Three becomes six. Six becomes four hours later.

Who cares?, you think. Tech's not coming home tonight, the weather is shit, and I've nothing better to do than read and possibly get very drunk tonight. Sipping the desert wine slowly, you open the first journal, “Frontiers of Marine Science (Kamino).” You choose this one on purpose. You've been fascinated with Kamino for as long as you've been with Tech, hanging on his every word when he would tell you stories of when he and his brothers were young, and what the Kaminoans are like, although you suspect that there's a great deal he hasn't told you, and likely never will. Down the proverbial ash-rabbit hole you go...

You stare intently at the computer screen, not even cognizant of the last time you blinked. You sigh, and you realize it happened again. Glancing at the clock, you realize it's close to midnight. The wind has picked up even more, howling and threatening to drive the raindrops through the windows. You want to sleep, but without Tech by your side, it will likely be another restless night.

You get up painstakingly, stiff from sitting in one place too long, taking your dishes to the sink and washing them quickly before you turn off most of the lights, except the one that casts ambient blue-green light throughout the entire living room. The sound of the rain is spiking your anxiety and hurting your ears, so you put on some music to try and mask the sounds of the raging tempest outside.

“Much better,” you say to your empty apartment. “Now I can get back to more reading...and maybe I'll fall asleep before four? Fat chance,” you mutter.

Nestling back into your blankets, you pull your computer back in front of you and open the umpteenth article of the night. “Landscape and Urban Planning (Coruscant).” You laugh loudly at the title of this one, given the complete lack of any discernible “landscape” on Coruscant.

“Urban Planning? On THIS planet? Let's see what the so-called “experts” have to say on this topic.” As you delve into the article, you let the background music ease your mind to a more focused state. You'll never sleep if you can't quiet your mind. Tech...where are you? I need you...

(Peter Murphy – All Night Long)

You slip back into your reading easily, and it's not long before you're completely engrossed again. The state of hyperfocus takes over you so much, you don't even hear the tone of your security alarm chiming as it's being deactivated, and the front door sliding open with an audible hiss. Tech stands in the vestibule and reactivates the security alarm before removing his helmet and walking slowly into the living room, bathed in relaxing ambient light. He isn't surprised to see you're still awake; he knows when he isn't home, you rarely sleep more than a few hours.

He stops when he sees you bundled up in the middle of the floor, your computer on the coffee table, your eyes wide and glassy. He knows this look well, because as you're so fond of pointing out to him, he looks exactly the same way when he's working intensely on something. He smiles softly, and waits to see if you'll even look up and notice that he's there. When he notices you're pretty far gone, he chuckles quietly and puts his helmet down on a side table where you've got medical journals piled high. He knows better than to startle you, so he comes into the living room a little more and stops.

“Cyaré...I'm home...I am quite sorry about tonight, but we had a malfunction with the Marauder's hyperdrive and an unscheduled trip deviation was necessary. If it is quite all right with you, I would like to make it up to you...”

You don't acknowledge him and he sighs. He knows you heard him, but nothing has registered. It's been some time since you've been stuck in a hyperfocused state like this, but Tech feels like he's responsible for this one, and it's up to him to ease you out of it. “Cyaré, please...” he tries again. Nothing. His brow furrows and he walks over to the control panel that controls the audio system. The music isn't even loud, but he eases the volume down, and when the raging wind and rain outside is heard once more, it snaps you back to reality.

Blinking hard, you look up from your computer, and you see Tech standing there, arms crossed, looking down at you, and for a moment you could have sworn it was Crosshair in your living room. The switch flips in your mind and you finally realize it's Tech, and while he doesn't look exactly icy, he doesn't look at you with the warmth he normally does.

“Tech...?” you croak, your throat parched. You haven't even remembered to drink any water.

(Sundial Aeon – Iced Melancholy Spectacle)

“Mésh'la, have you been up all night waiting for me? For your sake, I hope you have not. You know how I feel when I find out that you have not been getting proper sleep. I ask you again, were you up all night waiting for me?”

Your pulse quickens as he speaks to you, for his tone is becoming increasingly frigid. You wonder if he's doing this to purposely get a rise out of you, because he knows you're incredibly easy to bait. Many times he uses this tone of voice with you before the two of you engage in sexual relations, because he learned early on in your relationship that he could send you into extended periods of arousal just through that alone.

“Yes...and no, Tech,” you reply meekly. “You know I have a hard time sleeping when you're not here, and the storm tonight has sent my anxiety into overdrive. I thought I could sit here and read until you got back...and with luck, maybe sleep a little before then.”

This answer appears to satisfy him, for he now walks over to you and sits on the couch just off to your side. You catch a bit of his scent as he sits down...metallic, earthy, sweat. Nothing you haven't smelled on him before, but longing for his presence and his touch all night turns those simple scents into potent triggers. Your pulse is still elevated from him speaking to you, and as you turn to look up at him, those beautiful golden brown eyes of his look down upon you, and his face softens with that little grin you've always found to be one of the sexiest things about him.

He leans forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees, and you can see that he's definitely tired. Tired, but not so tired that he isn't interested in spending any time with you now. As he glances at your computer screen, he can see what has to be at least a bare minimum of 30 open tabs in your browser. Moving over so he's behind you, he shifts his legs a little so you're sitting between his feet. His strong hands close on your shoulders, and before you know it, he's firmly massaging them. You've been sitting hunched over for so long, that everything feels taut and pinched.

“Y/N, please do not let this become a habit. I know your mind works very much like mine. But you need your rest.”

You can't help but groan softly as his long fingers manipulate your skin through the material of your light sweatshirt. It doesn't matter if his hands are under his work gloves, or if they're bare...there's something magical about the power of his touch that you can't get enough of. You let your head loll forward as his thumbs dig in around your shoulder blades, and this time you let something more akin to a pleasurable moan escape. Accidental, of course, but you feel like you could melt into a puddle under his ministrations.

“Mésh'la, was that what I think it was?” he asks, amused.

(EN Voice – Hold On)

“What was what?” you reply, confused.

“I think that was more than just a casual groan. Is this turning you on?”

One hand remains to work on your shoulder, but his other hand has now moved down your back slightly, and come around to the front, gently cupping your breast, then closing around it and squeezing lightly as his thumb traces across your nipple.

Your head snaps up as he does this, your back straightening up into his hand, and your eyes close, holding back the moan that desperately wants to leave your throat. This is what you've craved all night, and you bring your hand up over his, holding it lightly as he begins to flick his thumb over you, feeling the tissue grow firm under his touch. You feel a very gentle pulse in your clit, and a tiny contraction inside as he touches you, and this time you let him know how you feel, letting out a soft, feminine moan through parted lips.

“I will take that as a yes, cyaré... Don't hold back anything from me.”

This time he lets go of your shoulder, and his other hand comes around to take your other breast, repeating the process. As your drop the hand over his, you lean back against the couch, your head resting close to his groin. You look up and you can see eyes growing heavy with lust. As he catches your gaze, he takes each nipple and pinches them firmly. You gasp and feel the unmistakable heat beginning to pool between your legs. The first instinct is to reach down and lightly touch yourself, but as you move to do so, Tech takes your wrist firmly and holds it in place.

“I don't think so, mésh'la... Would you like to play a little game with me? It is something we haven't done before, but I have been thinking about it for awhile, and it would be fun for both of us.”

“What kind of game?” you ask dubiously.

“It is a game of intellect...however, there are several rules. The first is that I am the only one that may ask the questions. I know you are well versed in many disciplines, and in the interest of fairness, will keep them based in subjects you know well. The second rule is, you will only have a maximum of three minutes to answer me. The third rule is that if you answer correctly, you must remove an article of clothing. I will also remove something, starting with my armor and gear. When your clothing is gone, each successive correct answer will net you a physical action from me. The fourth rule is that if you are incorrect, or fail to answer at all, everything will stop and you receive nothing.”

“Oh, what?!” you fire back indignantly. “How is THAT fair, Tech?”

“I do believe this is called “being a tease, mésh'la... That is the correct phrase, is it not?”

You sigh a little huffily. “Yes, it is. But...you've piqued my curiosity, and more importantly, by the end of this I want both of us to be in post-orgasmic bliss. You got that?!”

His eyes widen a little at the slight aggression you fire back at him, but he can tell you've been worked up all day, and need some relief soon. He does too, because the thought of him buried to the hilt inside you by the end of the night has been on his mind all day. He feels his cock beginning to stir a little under his codpiece...no time to waste.

(Desert Dwellers & Phutureprimitive – Praise Her, the Fire Keeper (Phutureprimitive Remix))

“Move over a little, Y/N...let me sit next to you. It will be easier this way. Move the table out of the way, too. You know we're going to need the extra space.”

You smile at him cheekily as you shift the coffee table out of the way, leaving plenty of room for both of you. Those long legs of his have zero chance of having room with any furniture in the way. Images of you running your hands up the length of his body, stopping at his hips, pausing to lick and gently suckle on his cock flit through your mind and you feel your face grow briefly hot. We've never had sex in the living room yet... I wonder what kinds of questions he'll ask me?

Tech shifts the blankets around so that he can be next to you, and he stretches out his legs, letting out a groan of his own. Being cramped up in the cockpit of the Marauder all day left him just as stiff and sore as he was sure you were, being in front of your computer all night. You turn to look at him, and he smiles softly at you. What he's really thinking right now is beyond you, but you hope it's something incredibly wicked.

“Are you ready? I will set a timer for three minutes with each question. We will start with something easy, as a warm up. What is the definition of the “instar phase?””

“Tech, come on, this is super easy.” You look at his grinning face, eyes never leaving his as you give your answer: “this is the developmental stage of arthropods, such as insects, between each molt, until they achieve sexual maturity.”

“Of course, you are correct. Take off your sweatshirt, cyaré...do you have anything else on underneath?”

Without hesitation, you skin off your sweatshirt, and you're wearing the sexy black and red lace bra that Tech would have seen much earlier in the night, had he come home on time. Normally you wouldn't have bothered with a bra if you were planning on being alone at night, but you know Tech is very much a visual creature when it comes to sexual endeavors. You hear him sigh softly as he catches sight of you, and you see him pull off his work gloves, casting them off to the side. All you can think about now is feeling his bare hands on your flesh...your face, your neck, spine, and especially between your legs.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful you are, Y/N? You truly are one of the most exceptional creatures I have encountered in all of my travels.”

You can feel the heat rising in your face, and you're thankful that the ambient light in the room can hide the fact you're beginning to flush, but you know how perceptive Tech is, and he will pick up easily on other visual cues.

“Tech, I...” you begin, but you can't think of anything meaningful to say. How do you follow up after such a grand statement?

He flashes you that sexy grin of his again and you're melting inside. “Next question, love. Are you ready? What are eubacteria?”

It's been awhile since you had to discuss microbiology with anyone, but this was another easy question, and you're wondering if Tech keeps planning on asking easy questions just to get you naked faster. Not like it would bother you if that's the case, but he has more things to take off than you do...

“Eubacteria are simple celled organisms, many with rigid cell walls, often needing a flagellum for movement. They are considered “true” bacteria, along with cyanobacteria. They are often found within the intestines of animals, and can also be found in soil.”

“Very good, love, although you took a little longer to answer this time, and I know you knew the answer easily. Stand up and slowly take your pants off for me.”

Slowly, you rise, and your first inclination is to deeply stretch, because of being on the floor too long. You are tempted to make him wait, but you're afraid if you do, he might stop the game just to make you wait for another time. You hook your thumbs into the waistband of the soft, loose pants you like to wear around the house, and as your eyes lock on his, you begin to sway your hips a little and laugh as you draw your pants down over your hips, then let them drop to the floor. You've got on the matching panties that go with your bra, and you watch Tech's eyes move down to look between your legs.

You know he's wondering if you're wet for him yet, and you watch as he takes off the breastplate of his armor, and everything else off his arms. You can see the musculature of his chest through his blacks, and this time there's no denying that you're aroused. Your clit pulses with heat and you can feel yourself starting to grow wet, as you think about skinning his shirt off, tracing every line of his flesh...burying your head into the crook of his neck and showering him with hot kisses...

(Nor Elle – Silent Storm)

“So much better,” he breathes, running a hand down his chest, letting it rest on his stomach. He looks up and you and his eyes almost seem to shimmer behind his lenses. Oh yes, he's turned on. “Turn around for me, mésh'la, I want to see that beautiful ass of yours.”

You can practically hear the lust dripping in his voice now, and you comply, turning around for him. You're not wearing a thong, but there's very little material, and to sweeten the pot for him, you decide to be a tease. Curling your finger into the material, you lean forward a little and pull your panties aside, so you're completely exposed for him...and now he can see glistening moisture, inviting him home.

Hearing him groan softly and shift around a little as his codpiece suddenly becomes much more restrictive makes you smile. You know what you're doing, and you're damn good at it. Letting the material go, you turn back around and look at him. You look down and see that he's slipped his fingertips just under the material of his blacks.

“Do you have another question for me, or are you in shock right now?” you tease gently.

He laughs and removes his hand from his blacks, letting it rest on his stomach again. The urge to start stroking himself is incredibly strong right now, but this needs to be a waiting game. If he's going to make you wait, he has to, as well. He brings his knees up and puts his other hand behind his head, leaning back against the couch, trying to think of a more difficult question for this round.

“All right, this one is a little more involved, and I do not want you answering in a simplistic fashion. Tell me what happens when an individual suffers a crush injury.”

While you have plenty of knowledge of anatomy and physiology, it's been quite awhile since you've had to draw from it. You're frantically thinking back to your university courses in medical terminology and A & P, trying to remember. You are drawing a serious blank, and you look over at Tech, who smirks at you a little because he can see the creeping panic in your face.

“Time's fleeting, cyaré...you have a minute and a half.”

Fuck, come on! I know this! Why can't I remember it?!

You're looking around the room, grasping at straws, mind racing as you try to give Tech something...anything. You shut your eyes and you're not even conscious of the fact you've slipped a hand between your legs, rubbing your clit through the gossamer fabric of your panties. Tech cocks an eyebrow when he sees you doing this.

“Fascinating, my love, but you're at 45 seconds. I need an answer.”

Your heart is up in your throat, robbing you of your breath, and your voice. Still touching yourself, and feeling your clit pulse beneath your frantic fingertips, the connection is made. You don't know how, but here it is. You have to be at somewhere under 20 seconds at this point, and the minute you open your mouth, it becomes a raging torrent of words. He's not going to rob you of pleasure tonight, and if he wants an answer, he's going to get one!

“It's a reperfusion injury that appears after the release of crushing pressure. The mechanism is believed to be the release into the bloodstream of muscle breakdown products – notably myoglobin, potassium and phosphorus – products of rhabodmyolysis, the breakdown of skeletal muscle damaged by ischemic conditions. Devastating systemic effects can occur when the crushing pressure is suddenly released, without proper preparation of the patient, causing reperfusion syndrome. In addition to tissue directly suffering the crush mechanism, tissue is then subjected to sudden reoxygenation in the limbs and extremities. Without proper preparation, the patient, with pain control, may be cheerful before recovery, but then may suddenly die shortly thereafter. This sudden failure is called the "smiling death." TECH, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

The sudden obscenity catches him off guard, and he can't help but laugh at you, standing there, looking so flushed, with wild eyes and heaving chest. Just to tease you even more, he does a slow clap before speaking.

“I am seriously impressed, mésh'la... Not only did that outburst have the correct answer in it, but you clocked in with just two seconds left. I will not apologize for the question, but I will apologize for inadvertently stressing you to the point where you felt it necessary to touch yourself for me, without me ordering you to do so.”

You feel your cheeks go hot, instantly embarrassed that you've now accidentally shown Tech something you've always done when pushed to your maximum stress levels. “Tech, I...fuck. This is embarrassing. I'm...”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Y/N. I have extensively studied what can happen to people with minds like ours, when we are pushed beyond our ability to cope with certain situations. You acted well within the parameters of normal behavior. That being said, I believe I owe you something now. I'm feeling generous, so for that answer, I'll take off more than one thing.”

He gets to his feet, and seemingly towering above you, he looks down at you as he unhooks his utility belt and drops it on the floor next to the rest of his gear. You can see that his breathing is becoming a little more shallow, and you wonder just how hard he is, hidden by that infernal codpiece. Off comes the armor on those lithe, muscular legs, along with the other utility pouches. Suddenly you don't feel so close to naked anymore, but now you wonder what he'll ask you to take off first. He sits back down next to you, looking up with eyes full of wonder.

“I can almost read your mind, Y/N. I will make it exceedingly easy for you. Take off your bra; it's beautiful, but those breasts of yours are so much more so. So much so, that once it's off, I want you to show me how you play with them when you're thinking about me.”

(Sister Machine Gun - Burn)

You almost let out a tiny squeak with his last sentence, but you find yourself actively wanting to show him. Besides, once you're done playing this game, you can always ask him to return the favor, and show you how he touches himself when he's fantasizing about you. Reaching behind you, you unhook the band and slide the straps down your shoulders, letting it fall into your hand, and holding it at arm's length, you wink at him, dropping it to the floor.

Swallowing hard, and trying to ignore the fact you've mostly soaked your panties through with your juices, your hands come to your chest, one hand squeezing, while the other pinches, rolls, and tugs at a nipple. You bite your lower lip and close your eyes, thinking about Tech pulling you down to the floor, unleashing his cock and taking you right then and there. Moaning softly, you show him just how much he affects you, and through doing this, show how much you adore him.

“That's it, cyar'ika, don't be shy...show me...teach me,” his voice getting husky with deep arousal now. “Please, baby, don't stop now...”

Breasts still in hand, you step in between his slightly parted legs, nudging his foot aside to make room for you between them. Tired of standing and feeling like you're a trophy upon a pedestal, you sink to the floor on your knees, sitting back on your feet. He has an overwhelming vision of grabbing and pulling you to his chest, sinking his tongue into your mouth for a deep kiss, bucking his hips up into you so you gasp at the sudden intrusion of his cock between your outer lips...

You flash a mischievous smile at him. He caves, as his hands come to rest on your hips, pulling you closer to him so quickly that you put your hands out in front of you to keep from falling. For a moment you hope you don't come crashing down face first on his codpiece, but you manage to get your hands on either side of him, your face a hair's breadth away from it.

A harsh gasp rises from you and you look up at him. He's unperturbed by your current position, and only wishes the codpiece was off so you could kiss him through the fabric of his blacks and feel how hard he is for you.

“I've got you, don't worry. Although I do believe it's prudent I ask the next question, don't you think? No, I won't ask another question like the last one...at least just yet. You look uncomfortable down there, love. Be a good girl, and sit in my lap. Here, let me help you.” Hands still on your hips, he pulls you toward him more so you can creep your way onto his lap. You don't want to sit down on him fully because you know he's hiding a massive erection under the codpiece, but you can still straddle him. You let your hands come to rest on his shoulders and he sighs contentedly, happy to finally have you in his arms after a particularly stressful day. Wanting to return the favor from earlier, your hands begin to gently massage his shoulders, and he's so tight and knotted up, he closes his eyes and lets out a soft moan.

“Mésh'la, please...you're distracting me!”

“Me? Distracting you? If that's not the pot calling the kettle black, I don't know what is!”

“All right, I concede...so here is your next question. What is a myelin sheath?”

Finally, an easy A & P question! “The myelin sheath forms around nerves, including those in the central nervous system. Composed of fatty substances and proteins, it allows electrical impulses to travel easily along nerve cells.”

A triumphant smile crosses your face and Tech's expression softens once again, his eyes smoldering with invisible fire. You know your panties are coming off next, but it's the manner in which they'll be removed that's in the front of your mind. His hands move down from your hips to your ass, squeezing your cheeks firmly, fanning the flames of desire ever higher within you.

Your hands move from his shoulders to rest on the back of his neck, stroking the soft flesh lightly and for a moment he lets out a brief moan. In return, his fingers sink just a little lower down your cheeks toward your outer lips, and you gasp as you feel him beginning to move your panties aside. A fingertip begins to draw its way over your lips, slick with moisture. You moan his name unbidden, wanting him to sink that finger deep inside you, but he knows the game you're playing, and he's not willing to play that hand just yet.

“Not just yet, Y/N. You should know better than that. Get those panties off, NOW.”

The razor sharp edge to that last word sends chills down your spine. He releases your ass and lets you climb off him, and as you stand between his knees, you look down upon him. He's got his hands behind his head now, looking up at you expectantly.

“Take them off now, cyaré, or I rip them off you, and I'm sure you'd like to keep them intact, yes?” “Yes, Tech,” you murmur, not exactly sure you still want to keep holding his gaze.

Hooking your thumbs under the waistband, you begin to roll your panties down, skinning them off slowly in a little bit of a striptease. You swirl your hips to and fro as you part your legs just a little bit as you get them all the way down, and as you step out them, you chuck them behind you, not really caring where they land.

You feel wetness beginning to seep from you freely now, and you shift your legs apart a little more so Tech can clearly see that there's a thin bead of your juices getting ready to drip on the floor. He's never seen this particular phenomenon up close before and you smile as you watch his eyes widen in surprise, and his lips part silently.

“This is what you do to me, Tech. You make me so fucking wet, my pussy weeps for joy. All for you, baby...all for you.”

You slip a hand between your legs and let your fingers pick up your wetness before it falls. Time to show him something else you do when he's not there, and you're thinking about him... You trail your fingertips through the cleft of your outer lips, picking up a great deal of moisture. As you bring your fingers back to your mouth to suck them clean, you see Tech activating the release for his codpiece in a big hurry, and he almost whips it off to the side as it lets go, and now you see what he's been trying carefully to keep under control.

Under his blacks, you see the prominent outline of his cock, fully hard, lying long and thick, begging to be released. You can't see anything because of the material, but you wonder if he's also wet for you; you've always loved seeing him ooze pre-cum for you, and as you've discovered, he loves it when you tell him you love how wet he is for you.

“Mésh'la, I need you to move out of the way. Let me get my boots off, and then you're going to come back and stand over my face. I must taste you, before your next question.”

(Asura – Crossroads Limiter)

You waste no time stepping back to let Tech ease himself back up onto the couch so he can get his boots off, which he does in what seems like record time, kicking them off to the side before sinking back to the floor and urging you to come forward with a few short waves of his hands. Carefully planting your legs on either side of him, he lets his head rest on the back of the couch cushion and puts a hand on your thigh. He's breathing hard now and his free hand has slipped down between his legs to start touching his cock through his blacks. He doesn't want to reveal himself to you just yet, but the mounting arousal can no longer be ignored.

You have a hand on the couch's armrest for a little stability as Tech bids you to lower yourself down within reach. Another bead of your juices threatens to fall, but this time Tech is ready with his dexterous and skilled tongue, ready to catch it. His cock twitches heavily under his hand, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your outer lips as his tongue traces its way through them, picking up every bit of wetness he can, as if he's starving.

“Let me feed you, Tech...you're so hungry... Eat your fill, my love...”

He moans deeply against you as you say this, the vibrations tickling you, making you twitch and squirm. The hand on your thigh begins to close down and squeeze as his tongue probes deeper now, slipping through your inner lips, very nearly to your entrance and now it's your turn to cry out sharply. Your clit begs and aches to have attention lavished upon it, but as you slip your free hand down to start touching it, your hand is pulled away.

“Not just yet...you don't get to play with yourself until I tell you, remember? As much as I'd love to eat you out right now, go sit back down. It's time for your next question. What are the four main components of physical science? I do not need any elaboration for this response.”

“Wow, this takes me back to my high school days,” you chuckle. “Let's see if I still remember all of them!”

“You'd better, because you know what will happen if you fail...and we're too far along for this to become a disappointment, cyaré...”

You swallow hard at his response, because you know he's serious. You're both too far along now to have this be a night of completely ruined edging and orgasms. You remember two of them immediately, but the other two are escaping you, and panic begins to set in once more. He's watching you intently as he continues to touch himself, letting out intermittent moans on purpose to help keep you focused.

“Uhh, well, I remember there's physics, chemistry...I'm having trouble with the other two.”

You look over at him and he just shakes his head at you, one eyebrow raised as if to say, “you're smarter than this, and you aren't getting my help.” He lets his head rest against the couch cushion again as he strokes himself through his blacks, and the hem of his shirt has ridden up his stomach just a little. Looking down, you can see the head of his cock peeking out of the waist of his pants and you suddenly get the chills, knowing that it's only a matter of time before he lets that beast out to play.

“Time's a-fleeting, honey. You'd better hurry up, because if you want any hope of riding my cock tonight, you will answer me.”

“Goddamnit, Tech,” you mutter, trying to focus the incessant loud chatter in your brain. “Okay, it's physics, chemistry...” You look over at your bookshelves for answers, hoping there's something there that will jog your memory. Books on botany, biology, genetics...no, that's not it. Wait...biology? Terrestrial sciences...yes, that's it!

“One minute, my love. It'd be prudent if you stopped wasting time.”

Physics, chemistry, Earth sciences (like meteorology and geology), and...and...come the fuck on, I know this!

You look out the expanse of windows to see that the storm finally stopped, and the clouds are beginning to dissipate. The glittering lights of the Uscru District seem to twinkle like stars, and then the light went on. It's so simple, and it's been here the entire time! “30 seconds, mésh'la. You really like pushing your luck, don't you?”

“Tech!” You look over at him and he picks his head up, blinking a little owlishly as he refocuses on you. “It's physics, chemistry, Earth sciences, and astronomy! Told you I knew it...and you know I don't have the greatest long term memory.”

“I am aware of your memory capabilities, and know it is a limitation for you. You have done well, and you're one step closer to being fully rewarded.”

Sitting up, he pulls off his shirt, and that is a gift unto itself. You long to touch every single inch of his finely chiseled chest and abs, kiss your way from his mouth all the way down to his cock, taking him in hands free in a small display of dominance of your own. The vision is so real, you can almost taste him. He leans back against the couch and gives you that irresistible sexy grin, and one of his hands comes back down to touch himself, not caring that his cock is now peeking prominently out of his pants. He's content to stroke himself through his clothing for as long as it takes.

“Just one more question, and then the real fun can begin,” he says lowly, his voice reminding you of roiling smoke. “I've been thinking about coming home and fucking you senseless all day...so much so that Hunter asked me if something was amiss, because of how unfocused I was. You are my undoing, cyaré, but I would not trade it for anything in this galaxy, or any other.”

You feel a deep twinge of arousal deep in your chest as he tells you this, and you close your eyes and moan his name, making a conscientious effort to not reach down and touch your clit as you do so. At this point, all you want is Tech to be touching you, gently swirling his thumb on the underside of your clit as his fingers stroke your insides, bringing you to a juicy wet orgasm...

“Tech, I'm ready...what's the next question?” You reach out and gently touch his calf, stroking your fingers over the soft material of his blacks. “Please don't make this one that spikes my anxiety again, okay? I'm not sure I can handle much more of that...”

“I promise you, Y/N, it won't be a question that made you panic like that first one. I am still impressed with your response to that, by the way.” He grins at you and slowly closes his eyes, trying to think of a question that will yield a response that will tie in with all of this foreplay. You look over at him expectantly, wondering if he'll keep his word. Without opening his eyes, his silken voice flows with the query: “the arrector pili muscles are responsible for what phenomenon?”

“I think you've finally realized that the A&P questions are where I generally feel most comfortable, Tech,” you chuckle. Tapping a fingertip to your lip, you try not to glance over at Tech, who has slid one of his thumbs into the waist of his blacks, and is ever so slowly beginning to pull downwards. He's still not looking at you, but he knows that you're unable to stop watching him.

“Arrector pili...hm, arrector pili...pretty sure this one is a dermatological term, if I'm not mistaken,” you muse.

“Two minutes, love. You should be thinking much harder about the answer, than about me getting my pants off,” he fires back.

“I wasn't...! Tech, I wasn't even...”

He starts laughing at you and now he finally opens his eyes. “You're wasting time again, mésh'la! Must you always do this?”

You'd love to just say “fuck you, Tech,” right about now, but you know how well that would go over. Grasping your ankles, you rest your head on your knees as you look around the room again. There's definitely nothing here to give you any visual clues like last time. You look over at Tech, and your breath catches in your throat as you see that while you've not been focusing, he's gotten his pants down to his knees, and as you look up at him, he cocks an eyebrow and then winks as he's now got his cock in his hand, and he is fully primed. Sudden chills zip down your spine and you feel yourself breaking out in goosebumps. Wait a minute...

“Hey, Tech? The arrector pili muscles are responsible for goosebumps, also known as horripilation, piloerection, or the pilomotor reflex!”

“That's my girl...I knew you could do it. For your reference, you responded with approximately one minute left. You are going to come over here now and finish taking my pants off for me, and when you're done with that, my cock is going in your mouth. Is that acceptable?”

You know your face is flushed, and behind your eyes, you feel the strong heat of arousal burning. Tiny pulsations deep within you trigger wetness to begin flowing once more as you crawl over between his feet, and grab hold of his pants, skinning them off with ease.

Before you comply with his request to start sucking his cock, you do something that momentarily catches him off guard, as it's nothing you've ever done before. Since he's sitting with his knees propped up, you curl an arm around one of his legs and then lean against him, pressing your face to the hot flesh, closing your eyes and savoring the moment. It isn't just arousal devouring your mind and body now, it's the deep love you have for Tech.

“Cyaré, is everything all right? A note of concern is quite detectable in his voice, and he begins to reach for you. Are you feeling ill? What's the matter?”

You sigh happily. “Nothing is wrong, Tech...don't worry.” You open your eyes and look at him, smiling softly. “I love you, Tech. As you said to me earlier, you're the most beautiful creature I've ever encountered in all my travels. Now let me come and take care of you. I can't wait to have you in my mouth...taste your wetness...maybe even let you come there, too...”

He certainly wasn't expecting this reaction and for once, the chatterbox that is Tech, is silent. You giggle and then let go of his leg, moving on all fours until you're right up against him. “Let me help you, baby, please...”you plead quietly.

Guiding his cock into your mouth with one hand, you slowly ease him in. You hear his breath hitch for a moment and he moans quietly as you ease him a little farther in; your free hand knows just what it needs to be doing to make this even better for him, and as you take him in as far as you can, your other hand closes around his balls, slowly squeezing and massaging him.

“M...mésh'la, don't stop... Be a good girl and suck my cock...”

(Aquascape – Phoenix Dance) His head falls back against the couch cushion and his legs close around you just a little. One of his hands comes to rest on the back of your neck lightly, and as you begin to suck on him, you feel him stroking the flesh there, sending more chills shooting down your spine. You always love it when he touches your ears and your neck, because he knows how wet it can make you, and like clockwork, wetness begins to slowly seep from you again.

Closing your eyes to refocus, you begin to move your head to and fro, tongue gliding effortlessly along the underside of his cock, sucking hard as you reach the tip, pulling away to let the tip of your tongue flick rapidfire, eliciting a sharp cry from Tech, and the hand on your neck closes down suddenly, pushing your head back down as he bucks his hips, nestling himself back inside the safe, hot haven of your mouth.

You moan deeply as that incredible thickness fills up your mouth, the vibrations traveling all the way down his cock, earning you quick flexing and even more swelling. You'll have to be careful, or he'll come too soon, and you want to make this special night even more special for the both of you.

You release his balls from your grasp, and you pull your mouth off him, purposely leaving a long trail of saliva behind. You're going to need two hands to stroke him adequately. Inwardly, you can't help but laugh because although he's never directly come out and tell you, it drives him wild when you give him super sloppy blowjobs.

He looks down at you and your eyes meet, and when he sees your tongue connected to his cock only by saliva, he starts to breathe faster and shallower. He can't remember a time when your eyes have shone this brightly, consumed with both love and sheer primal lust. He brings a hand under your chin gently with his index finger, lifting your head up.

“Y/N, do you know how beautiful you are when you have my cock in your mouth?”

You shake your head slightly. “Tech, let me feed...I'm so hungry!”

He lets go of your chin and his hand comes to the back of your head again. He starts pushing you down and your hands guide him back in to your waiting mouth. “Eat your fill, cyar'ika, there's more than plenty...that's the way...”

Grasping his cock tightly, as you draw him farther back in your mouth, your hands corkscrew their way down his shaft, gliding easily as you purposely let saliva dribble out of your mouth. As your hands come up to meet the head of his cock, you pull your mouth away, letting one of your hands close over him, massaging and stroking the sensitive underside with your thumb.

Tech begins to slowly buck his hips, and you hold your hands still for him, closing firmly around him once more, letting him feel that indescribable tightness that mimics what it's going to feel like for him once he decides he wants to fuck you. His moans have become much more frequent and louder, and you know you're pleasing him exactly the way he wants.

“Your cock feels so good in my hands, Tech... So perfectly hot and hard... Do you want my mouth again, baby? I'll suck you dry, if you want me to... You're so fucking beautiful, Tech...I love you...”

“Mésh'la, let me go right now, I'm getting too close,” he chokes out.

Immediately, you release him and his breath comes hard and fast. You can see a light sheen of sweat building on his forehead from the strain of trying to remain totally in control and not lose himself. You scoot back on your heels a little, and put your hands on his knees. In a flash, his hands grab your hips and suddenly you're being picked up and heaved onto the couch, your legs spread wide open for him, glistening with wetness.

“Now it's my turn,” he growls, and he brings his mouth close to your entrance, giving pause to stop and smell you. His olfactory senses are not as acute as Hunter's, but he can still detect pheromones at moderate levels, and right now, the scent of your dripping pussy is almost enough to send him over the edge without even having to touch himself.

Hands gripping your thighs, he lets his tongue snake out and drag through the cleft of your outer lips, picking up the delectable salty and slightly sweet taste of your juices. You let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden intrusion of his tongue, and then you moan his name deeply when he slips his tongue farther in, letting it work its way just inside your entrance, greedy to consume everything you can give him.

You realize he never gave you permission to touch yourself, but the pulsing in your clit is driving you mad. Slipping your hand down just enough so your fingers can graze the slightly retracted hood and the lustrous pearl of your clit, you get no more than a few seconds of contact before Tech's hand comes up and seizes your wrist. He pulls his mouth away from you, your wetness smeared across his face.

“Cyar'ika, once AGAIN, you're not allowed to play with yourself unless I give you permission. Until I tell you otherwise, your pussy is mine do with what I please. Is that understood?”

You're so flustered and aching for release that hot tears begin to prick the corners of your eyes. Your voice wavers slightly as you plead with him, hoping that he'll either let you touch yourself while he works your insides, or hoping that he'll slide his cock in, filling you to your absolute limits, and bang you like a broken screen door.

“Tech, please let me touch myself, I wanna come for you so badly...”

“I'm not ready for you to come, my love. You will wait, and when it's time, you'll be given release...not a moment before. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, just about ready to slide my fingers into you. You've been such a good girl for me so far, Y/N. You will be rewarded soon, I promise.”

He lets go of your wrist and then turns to plant light kisses on your trembling thighs. His lips moving across your flesh feel like butterfly wings, and as he kisses his way down your thigh, he plants kisses on your pubic mound, before turning his attention to the treasure at the center of it all. You hold back a scream of pleasure as his mouth closes over your clit, and as he begins to suck on it, one of his fingers begins to push into you.

(Delerium - Serenity)

Your hands grope the couch cushion blindly, looking for something to hold onto as you watch him digitally penetrate you. No such luck, and you begin to swirl your hips gently in an attempt to get Tech to pick up the pace and start fucking you with those gorgeous long fingers of his. As you did to him, he now does to you, and pulls his mouth away to let his tongue flick effortlessly over your fully engorged clit, chuckling to himself as he pushes a second finger inside you.

Even now, you feel quite stuffed with just his fingers, and the thought of eventually taking his cock triggers another seep of wetness. He moans deeply as he feels the gush around them, and it doesn't take him long to find the tiny spot within your walls that when properly triggered, makes you come hard and productively.

Tech closes his mouth over your clit once again, swirling his tongue across it while alternating with sucking it like you would his cock, letting his head bob just a little bit as he does so. Your head falls back against the back of the couch as now he begins to move his fingers fore and aft within you, gently hooking the tips up so he can stroke that little sweet spot. He has no intentions of letting you come just yet, but he's more than content to edge you.

Deep seated groans of pleasure escape you as he continues his delicious torture. You feel yourself starting to grow close to orgasm, and as much as you want to come, you need him to fuck you good and hard first. “Tech, slow down, I'm getting close,” you nearly sob. You moan his name repeatedly in attempts to get him to stop, but he's purposely ignoring you.

“Cyaré, if you keep moaning any louder, what will the neighbors think?” he murmurs as he pulls his mouth away once more. He can feel your walls starting to constrict around his fingers, the telltale sign that your orgasm is getting ready to break.

The obscene squelching noises his fingers are making as he's stroking your insides is the other tell that you're ready to take him. He slows the gentle stroking and then carefully pulls his fingers out, reaching back down between his legs to start stroking himself once more, using your juices as lube.

“Fuck the neighbors, Tech, I don't care what they think!”

“I don't want to fuck the neighbors, love...I'm only interested in fucking you. Move forward just a little bit, please...” He shifts positions as you move yourself right to the edge of the couch, propping yourself up on your elbows. With cock in hand, he shows you exactly what he wants, stroking his thick length slowly, eyes locked on yours the entire time. “Tell me, Y/N, what shall I do with this, hm?”

You're trying to control your breathing, which has long since become erratic. Your face flushes with intense heat once again, and even though Tech is quite composed, it's taking every ounce of his being to stay in control. “Tech...please,” you whimper. You're not even sure how much you have left to beg him. “Fuck me, Tech, I can't wait anymore... Slide that big cock in me and fuck me senseless...”

“Are you sure, mésh'la? As much as I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your begging, there's one thing to which I cannot say no, when it comes to you.”

He doesn't wait for a reply from you asking what that one thing is, as he positions himself in line with your entrance, and slowly begins to push his way inside. This time that scream can't be held back, and your hands fly to his forearms, gripping them so hard your nails dig furrows in his flesh. He lets out a hiss of shock, rather than one of pain, and his eyes narrow. You've never been quite this way before with him, but as you pull his arms forward in an attempt to get him to push his cock in even deeper, he's more aroused than ever by this primal behavior.

His eyes close and his head falls back a little as he slides ever deeper into you, his girth stretching your inner walls to what feels like their maximum. You feel especially tight, and he can't help but let out a deep sigh, followed by an equally deep moan as you squeeze your walls around him, creating exquisite friction. It would be very easy to lose control and come inside you far too soon, but there's something he'd like to try with you tonight, that the two of you have never done before.

“Cyar'ika,” he groans, “take my cock...take all of it...you're so fucking wet for me...”

You begin to swirl your hips just as he finally parks himself inside you fully, the head of his cock lovingly kissing your sweet spot and your cervix. Letting go of the death grip you have on his arms, now you reach for his hands, closing yours around his as he begins to move. He rocks his hips slowly, watching himself move in and out of you, the sounds of your cries the finest music he's ever heard.

“Oh, Tech,” you moan airily as you squeeze his hands. “Harder...faster...this pussy's all yours, Tech. Ner cyaré...please, I love you...” You've never spoken a word of Mando'a before now, but you learned what some of the terms of endearment are, considering how frequently all of the guys used them with you.

Tech squeezes your hands hard and for a brief moment, you could swear he's getting misty eyed. “...Your accent is a touch peculiar, my love, but...it will suffice. Ni kar'taylír darásuum...”

He lets go of your hands, running his own from your hips down to your silky inner thighs. Closing his hands gently around them, he honors your request, and the lazy thrusting becomes faster and more insistent. Soon he finds a pleasant rhythm that sends you into a state of deep bliss, your moaning constant and deep.

Tech curls his arms under your legs near your hips, pulling you in closer to him as he begins to fuck you just a little harder, slipping over your sweet spot, teasing your walls to start constricting around him...calling for you to touch yourself and bring about the ultimate release... You bring your hand down between your legs one more time, giving pause before touching your hard, swollen clit.

“Tech, please...let me,” you nearly whimper. “Let me come for you...I want you to watch me come on your cock...”

He lets out a harsh groan as you squeeze him tightly, urging him to spill inside you. “Permission granted, mésh'la, but when you're at the eclipse, you must stop...” He slows his pace now, knowing that it can be difficult for you to get close to, or have an orgasm, if he's fucking you too fast. “It's all right, love, show me how you touch yourself when you're fantasizing about me...”

(Lords of Acid - Venus)

You pick up wetness on your fingertips by letting them run over his cock as he pulls back from you, stopping just before he's all the way out. He flexes hard under your touch, amazed by how sensuous you're being, moaning softly as you slowly retract the hood of your clit, the beautiful pink pearl underneath glistening with moisture. You close your eyes to help focus, as your fingertips begin to swirl over the hot nub of flesh; Tech slips his way back inside as you, exhaling sharply as he watches you touch yourself.

“That's it, Y/N, show me how...” he whispers hotly.

A deep sigh lets loose from you as your fingertips draw concentric circles around your clit, then along the sides, and finally underneath, flicking it gently like you would with your tongue on his cock. “Tech, you make me feel so fucking good...look how hard I am for you...” With each deep stroke from him gliding along your sweet spot, the pulsing in your clit continues to grow, and you know you're starting to get close. Everything pulling into a singularity, seemingly crackling with electricity...

As he watches you swirl your fingers a little harder over your clit, he instinctively knows that you're on your ascent. Your gaze meets with his once more, and his eyes are so full of love and deep desire as you share this level of intimacy with him. Faster you work yourself, and subconsciously your back begins to arch upward, your inner walls squeezing his cock like a vise.

“Cyar'ika, slow down, I can feel you getting too close,” he warns. “If it's all right with you, there's something I've always wanted to try with you...will you let me?” He starts pulling out of you as he makes sure you're not touching yourself anymore. As he does, you adopt a mock pouting expression. He's used to you doing this to him to be purposely annoying, but he's not having it now. “Don't be a little brat, Y/N, or I'll stop right now!”

You recoil slightly, and in a small voice, utter words you normally wouldn't for him: “I'll be a good girl, Tech, I promise. You can try anything with me, you know that. What do you have in mind?”

“Let me help you up, and I'll show you. I promise you, I think you will really enjoy this,” he says, getting to his feet, and taking your hands in his to pull you up off the couch. “Come on, mésh'la, follow me; we're not going far.”

He leads you around the back of the couch, then takes your hips in his hands as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. At long last, your lips finally connect in a deep, passionate kiss...his tongue slipping through your lips, moaning deeply into your mouth as your tongue collides with his. “You taste so good, my love...if I'm not mistaken, I do believe you've been drinking desert wine tonight, have you not?,” he murmurs, softly kissing the corners of your mouth, then your forehead.

You can't help but laugh at this. “Shit...you caught me, honey. But you know I can't help myself when it comes to desert wine!” Returning the favor, you cradle his face in your hands and bring your forehead to his, before kissing it gently. “So...what is it you wanted to try, Tech? The suspense is killing me,” you say, with a little bit of sass.

He returns to gently kiss you a few more times, his lips lingering just above yours as he whispers, “why don't you turn around, and I'll show you, hmm? Here, let me help you.” Suddenly, he spins you around and pushes you over the back of the couch. Yelping, you put your hands out to brace yourself as you're bent over, standing on tiptoes as Tech pushes your feet apart. You are fully exposed to him with no way to stop whatever he has in mind.

You hear him laugh softly as he drops to his knees, and then you feel his hands on your ass, kneading the flesh firmly before he begins to spread them apart. For a moment you think he's going to try and feed his cock into your ass, but instead, you feel his tongue plunge into your pussy, gathering every bit of your wetness. Back to your clit he goes, hungry mouth closing over it once more to suck and tease briefly, before pulling away and standing back up.

“I will never tire of seeing you spread open for me like this, cyar'ika... Now take my cock all the way, like a good girl!”

You moan loudly as you feel him press the thick head of his cock flush against your entrance once more. Taking your hips in his hands, he begins to push his way back in so slowly, it's agonizing. He groans deeply as your insides begin to swallow him whole, and once more, he looks down to watch himself disappearing inside you. As he buries himself all the way in, he flexes hard a few times, making you squirm and cry out as you try to get your feet on the floor.

“Don't fight me, baby... Relax, cyaré, I've got you,” he says reassuringly. You feel him pick you up by the hips just a little, relieving the stress in your legs, and now he begins to fuck you, slowly rocking his hips up against your ass, stretching your insides to the maximum. “Take my cock, Y/N, it's all yours,” he moans, as he feels you squeeze your walls against him once more, coaxing him to let go inside you.

“Tech, faster...harder...” you cry, eyes shut as he rocks you into a state of sheer bliss.

Something between a sigh and a deep moan rises from Tech as as he picks up the pace, hands gripping your hips tightly. As a moth is drawn to flame, his gaze can't be pulled from watching himself slip in and out of you effortlessly; it is an endless fascination. You hear his breathing becoming increasingly ragged the harder he fucks you, and you can feel him beginning to swell with each successive stroke. All you want him to do now is push forward with one final surge, lock himself in place, and come hard for you while moaning your name...

“You're so close, baby...come for me, please...fill me up!” you cry.

“Not...just...yet...” he groans, slowing his pace down yet again. He's panting heavily with exertion now, and his grip lessens on your hips. “There's just one more thing I want to experience with you before you and I both have our release...”

You want to scream in frustration as he pulls out of you, but you feel his chest pressing down on your back as his arms come underneath you to lift you up. Your legs feel like wet noodles, and you're afraid you'll fall to the floor, but Tech's strong hands hold you tight against him, his damp cock poking you in the back. Your heart is racing now, feeling slightly apprehensive over what he has in mind.

(Sundial Aeon – Our Eternity)

“Hold still, cyar'ika, I'm going to pick you up. Put your hands behind my neck and hold on. There's something I want you to see.” “See? Tech, what are you...agh, Tech!” you cry out as his hands come down between your legs, resting on your hamstrings as he begins to lift you up. You raise your arms and slip your hands behind his neck as he asks, your head resting against his shoulder. “Tech, this feels so strange,” you moan softly, eyes tightly shut.

“Bear with me, my love...this is new to me, too. Let us learn together,” he murmurs with his nose buried in your hair. Once he has you securely in position, he turns around and slowly moves toward the full-length mirror that is mounted on the closet. It doesn't dawn on you what he has in mind until he stops in front of it. “Look, ner cyaré...look at yourself with a set of fresh eyes.”

You open your eyes and see your reflections in the mirror, Tech looking at you with a serene, loving gaze, holding you perfectly steady, mere inches above the perfect curvature of his thick cock. The soothing blue-green light encompassing the living room serves to accentuate every curve and line of both your bodies. A small gasp of awe leaves you, as you're reeling from how beautiful both of you look.

“By the Maker, Tech...this is unreal,” you say quietly. “Look at us...”

“There are times when I feel like you do not appreciate yourself, mésh'la...as if you do not understand your importance or worth. I want you to see yourself the way I do...as a most resplendent star. With darkness spreading unchecked across the galaxy, I know your light will always guide me home.”

You feel a thick lump in your throat and you can feel yourself getting misty eyed. He's never spoken like this to you before, but you know every single last word is true. Tech is not one to mince words, nor speak half truths. Coming from the man who couldn't even hold your gaze for more than a few seconds at a time, and who was so shy that it took him months to gather the courage to ask if he could hold your hand... This is nothing but love of the highest order, girlie...if you needed any more proof of his devotion to you, this is it.

“Tech...” “Just breathe, baby. Here we go.”

With that, he lowers you down until you feel the head of his cock nudging against your entrance. Moaning lustily, your legs begin to tremble as he brings you down further on him, that beautiful heat and fullness taking over your senses once again. You watch your reflection as he fills you, clit pulsing wildly. You've never seen yourself being spread open like this and penetrated, and the enormity of how arousing this all is, is almost overwhelming.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” you moan deeply, “this pussy's all yours, Tech...”

He lets out a deep moan as he finishes lowering you into place, feeling you constrict your walls around him. “That's right, cyaré...it is!” Now you witness the extent of Tech's immense physical strength as he begins to lift you just a little so he can start fucking you. You watch the mirror transfixed, unable to tear your eyes away from watching him spear you; even in this light, you can see his cock glistening with wetness. Your clit peeks out from its hood, thick and swollen, begging to finally be caressed over the edge.

“Tech...let me come, please,” you manage to utter in between uncontrollable moaning.

“Move with me, mésh'la. I want to watch you come all over my cock... I won't let you go,” he replies gently.

With that, you start to bounce on his cock each time he thrusts upward, your eyes never leaving the mirror, watching Tech's musculature ripple as the two of you quickly find a common rhythm in your motions. You feel his chest heaving against you, breath coming hard and fast as he fucks you. It's when the low, ceaseless moaning starts that you know it's time for you to finish yourself off and give him the ultimate release.

Carefully you release one hand from his neck and bring it down between your legs. You've been edged so much tonight that an orgasm will not take very long, and you know Tech is well on his way to his, for you feel him beginning to swell just a little more inside you with each upward surge. Swirling your fingertips over your wet, hard pearl once more, the electricity returns quickly. Amplified by his cock sliding over your sweet spot, you let out a deep moan as you feel the tiny contractions beginning to swarm and intensify.

“Oh, Tech, I'm getting so close...” you groan as you tighten your grip on the back of his neck.

“I know, cyaré, don't hold back...let it all go,” he whispers. “Give me everything you have...I love you, baby.”

You feel everything beginning to pull inwards into that little singularity, every nerve ending in your clit ablaze, your very breath streaming fire. Tech slows his pace down just a little, moaning deeply as your fingers press into his neck. He can't tear his gaze away as you swirl your hips lightly, stroking your clit for all it's worth, just about at your peak. His cock swells yet tighter within you, and you know he's just about to come, too.

“Cyaré, please...”

“Tech, my good boy, I love you,” you gasp, before unleashing a near-scream as your orgasm breaks, writhing in his arms as the waves of pleasure flood your body.

His hands squeeze your thighs hard as he tries to get you under some semblance of control, before he bucks his hips up hard into you a few short times before you feel him swell to maximum within you. He buries his face against your hair as he exhales sharply, deep moans vibrating against you as he starts to come. Crying out his name as you feel him flex hard a few times, he finishes depositing the last of his seed, then immediately starts fucking you again, still riding the highs of his orgasm.

You're caught off guard by this, and your free hand comes back up around his neck to hold on for dear life. Each successive thrust means you're steadily dripping an admixture of fluids all over the floor, but you couldn't care less. Your gaze returns to the mirror, and you watch breathlessly as Tech runs blindly on sheer instinct. You're both bathed in sweat, your hair completely disheveled, and his lenses are starting to slide down his face a little... “Bear down, mésh'la,” Tech chokes out. “I want to see you push that load out.”

“Whatever you want, ner cyaré,” you reply. “Look up, baby, or you might miss it!”

Tech's attention returns to the mirror, a blissful smile on your face awaiting him. He buries his cock deep in you one last time, then quickly lifts you off him as you let your pelvic floor take over, pushing hard as his cock slips out of you. His eyes go wide in amazement as a gush of fluid comes out of you, spattering all over the floor, with some of it managing to hit the mirror, too.

You can't help but let out a gasp when you see what you've done, and then you start to laugh when you catch Tech's expression – he's completely dumbfounded. He starts to sink down to the floor, bringing you with him, carefully setting you down. Looking back at the mirror, you can see the wetness slowly rolling its way down, and you're feeling pretty proud of yourself for rendering Tech speechless. You look over at him and he pushes his lenses back into place, shaking his head a little.

“Cyar'ika... You are absolutely incredible. But I must ask...all of that...that wasn't all mine, was it?”

You grin and shake your head. “No, Tech, it wasn't. A good part of it was all mine. Pretty sure this is the first time you've ever made me do that, too.”

“Beyond fascinating,” he murmurs, tapping his index finger against his cheek. “I think I must explore this a lot more with you, if that's all right.”

You lean over and kiss the corner of his mouth softly, then slip your tongue in for a deep, loving kiss. “Anytime you'd like, Tech. I can't believe everything that's happened tonight, and I must admit, you are quite creative....”

He chuckles softly. “Contrary to popular belief, mésh'la, I do have good ideas from time to time.” Painstakingly, he gets to his feet and braces himself on the back of the couch, momentarily unsure of his ability to not collapse after all that. “Why don't you go fix up your...nest, and I'll clean all this up.”

You do as he asks, rearranging the giant pile of blankets before burying yourself within them. You feel like your entire body is glowing, radiating not just heat, but all of the love you have for Tech. Exhaustion finally sets in, and it's not long before Tech joins you in your nest, pulling you up on him so your head rests on his chest, his arm around you protectively.

“Tech? I want to do game night again some time, if you want,” you murmur sleepily.

“Oh, is that so? Even after all I subjected you to?”

“Mhmm...but next time, I get to pick the game.”

[lovingperfectionsblog]

The Dreaded Question

Carlos Sainz Jr x Reader

Summary: The classic, would you love me if I was a worm?

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of death, mentions of the Devil and God, mentions of tentacle porn. 

Word Count: 1067

Author's note: A silly little drabble about a silly little scene based off of THE QUESTION :D. Forgive me for jumping onto this bandwagon.

______________________________________________________________

“Baby, before you go” Carlos called out to you from the lounge, a very heated and very drunken discussion between him, Charles, Lando and Pierre taking a quick pause, “I have a super important question to ask you!” There was complete silence other than your high heels clicking across the floor as they waited for you to enter. 

“You need to be quick, I’m five minutes away from being late to meet Lewis” you busied yourself, getting your purse ready for a night out of drinks with one of your oldest friends. 

“You’re dressed like that to meet Lewis?” The question hadn’t come from your boyfriend, but instead his best friend in the form of little Lando.

“Is that your question?” Carlos knew that you were actually asking was if he was genuinely allowing his friends to question how you were dressed to meet one of your oldest friends for drinks, but the quick shaking of his head and a kick to Lando’s knee was an indication that it was by no means what he had wanted to ask at all. 

In response, you nodded and continued to look around for your keys, patiently waiting for the question. It was not even close to what you had expected. You’d expected a questioning of where you were going for the evening, what time you were getting home, what were your plans for the rest of the weekend, anything, but not, 

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” 

You stopped your rifling and just stared at your boyfriend, all four of the boys looking back at you, waiting for your answer in anticipation. 

“Would I still love you if you were a worm?” You repeated his question, all four nodding in response as if you were addressing the collective, “No, I would not.” Your answer clearly displeased the lot of them, a look of hurt across your boyfriends and a look of anger across the others. 

Before any of them could even begin to protest, you held up your hand to stop them, “this is not a conversation you want to get into with me.” You made your way over to the kitchen table, an attempt to look for your wallet now too, convinced your keys would be with it. 

“This is the exact conversation I want to get into with you” Carlos' voice seeped in pain. 

“Yeah, why wouldn't you love him if he was a worm?” It was Charles' turn to interject into the dynamics of your relationship this time, and truthfully, you were surprised it wasn’t Lando, he always had something to say in defense of Carlos. 

“Well, because he’d be a worm, he wouldn’t be a cognizant thing, how do I love something I can have absolutely zero interaction with?” You thought this would all be obvious, but judging by the looks on all their faces, this answer was not a good enough explanation, “and if you were a cognizant being, like I could talk to you, then god no, that would be even worse, because then we’d have to have the conversation around like, tentacle porn, and worse, and did you know a worms entire skin is basically a mucus membrane, and did you know salt hurts them, do you know what our skin secretes? Salt. So no, I would not love you if you were a worm.” Although your reasoning was entirely sound, and none of them could truly fight you on it, there still looked like there was some damage control that needed to be done, Carlos turning away from you, a clearly hurt look on his face. 

“But, can I answer the actual question?” Carlos cocked his head, the only response he was going to give.

“What actual question?” That was the exact answer you had wanted to hear, albeit it came from a confused Pierre. 

“Well, Carlos isn’t asking me if I would love him if he was a worm, what he’s actually asking me is, if he felt like he was nothing, if he had nothing to offer other than exactly who he was, all the dark, nitty gritty parts of who he is, would he still be enough for me, would I still choose to love him?” the silence urged you on, all of them waiting to hear what your response would be to this. 

“And my answer would and always will be, that God himself could come down right now and whisk me away and tell me that he is going to give me a thousand full lives, of nothing but utter joy and peace for me to experience, but I’d never be able to see you again-” you’d made your way to stand just behind the couch that Carlos sat on, his eyes boring into your own, “-and I would spend the rest of my days hunting the Devil himself down, and on hands and knees beg him to take my soul and every single second of every single one of those lives in exchange for just one last day with you” you carded your fingers through his hair, eyes never leaving his, “So no, I would not love you if you were a worm, but I would love you for every second the Devil himself ripped apart my soul in the very depths of hell.” 

“It’s unfair, you’re a writer” you couldn’t help the laugh that ripped out of you at your boyfriends quiet words. 

“I’m late, I’ll see you,” you showed the keys as you began to leave the room, “behave and have a good night!” you shouted out through your giggles as they could do nothing other than watch the door close behind you. 

“Can we all agree to never mention her answer to anyone, because I am not sure I could top that one” Pierre was the first to speak after you’d left. 

“I warned you that this is what you were gonna get for dating a writer” Lando just chuckled out. 

“Can’t wait to hear the warning you’re going to give me when I tell you I’m going to propose to her next week” Carlos had finally stopped looking at the door and instead was now addressing Lando directly, mimicking the grin on his friends face as Lando realized what he was saying, his friends laughter only getting louder. 

“Your vows are gonna fucking suck compared to hers.”  

[lucagray813]

Better to Forget

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,567

Main Characters: Macaque

Minor Characters: Wukong

Relationships: Macaque & Wukong, could be interpreted as Shadowpeach

Summary: Macaque is running out of time and options.

Additional Tags: Hurt No Comfort, Angst

CW: Implications of death and suicide

Link to AO3 Version

----

You'd never catch Macaque complaining about being free from the Lady Bone Demon's chains but in the months following her demise he was coming to appreciate how much her magic had been doing to keep him sane.

Although, he thought that the constant struggle to resist her, combined with an all consuming lust for revenge, had to be given credit for keeping him from truly acknowledging the horrors he had endured in the pits of hell.

Either way, he was haunted by what his soul had endured in the attempt to cleanse him of his sins. No living creature should be able to remember what torture their soul had suffered, their minds simply weren't made to comprehend it.

In the light of the day he could find ways to occupy his mind, even if on occasion that meant finding ways to drown out the memories, to numb the phantom pains, if only for a moment.

But at night, there was no such escape. In his dreams he returned to the Dìyù and, so terrible and agonising was the experience, he could almost believe his soul was being stolen away in his sleep to continue with its eternal damnation.

Nothing stopped the nightmares.

They came from his very soul and nothing he could do to his mind or body could force it to forget what had happened.

Increasingly it seemed there were only two outcomes - he went mad or he returned to the Dìyù. Although if he was being honest it was more likely he went mad and then returned to the Dìyù anyway. If his soul wasn't so vehemently against it he might have been tempted to just speed things along to their inevitable conclusion.

He couldn't say his mind and body were on board with such an idea either - after everything he had suffered through to come back to life he was just going to throw it all away? No, there had to be a way to overcome this.

Souls were reborn millions by the minute with no memory of their time without a body - there had to be a way to forget what had happened to him. It would be much easier to search for a solution though if he could manage even a moment of genuine rest, free of torment. But that wasn't going to be happening anytime soon.

His soul was in tatters, his mind was on the countdown to joining it and then god knows what would become of his body.

He needed a solution and he needed one now.

After an excruciating period of desperate searching, he found himself making a deal with a truly ancient demon. And if his soul ever did find its way back to the Dìyù then the atrocities he'd committed in order to uphold his end of the bargain all but guaranteed it would never leave. So irredeemable and dangerous would the Ten King's judge his souls to be they'd probably just destroy it on the spot.

Regardless, he now held a potential solution in his hands. Yet, despite the fear of the Dìyù and the terror of the ever encroaching madness, he still hesitated to free himself from his hellish existence.

He didn't have time to find another solution but the one he had...

All it truly amounted to was a death his soul found palatable.

The spell in his possession would reset his mind, body and soul to exactly as it had been when he first took form in this world, with no possibility of it being undone.

The Six-Eared Macaque had been born from Wukong's runaway shadow on a lunar eclipse during the worst storm Flower Fruit Mountain had ever seen before or since. He'd emerged as Wukong had - fully grown, cognizant and capable.

He could almost muster up a fond smile at the memories of he and Wukong's first meeting - the latter furious over his stolen shadow. He had refused to give it back, mocking him for losing it in the first place... Wukong had chased after him for weeks trying to retrieve it.

If he were to start again, he would not need to worry about being helpless. In fact, starting again he wouldn't know to have a worry in the world. Nothing that haunted him now would continue to do so and yet...

He wouldn't be him. He would never be him again. The Six-Eared Macaque who had started life as the shadow of the Intelligent Stone Monkey would be as good as dead.

He grappled with this knowledge even as he prepared things for his rebirth. He would give himself the best start in life, he would leave himself with not only the knowledge to survive any potential danger but also his wisdom on how to thrive in this world - to appreciate it in a way he had failed to.

Although admittedly, that "wisdom" could simply be boiled down to "For the love of the gods, don't do what I did!".

Knowing who he had once been however, he knew he would not be satisfied without answers to how he came to be in this little piece of paradise Macaque had painstakingly carved out for him. He would need to provide some level of explanation.

He also knew that no matter what he did there was a not so insignificant chance that his new self would find his way back to Wukong somehow - whether it be intentional or not. And he had to stop him from making the same mistakes.

So he wrote his memoirs carefully, painfully aware of the dangerous ego he had once wielded. He didn't want to goad himself into trying to one up him, convinced he could do better nor did he want him to think that a bit of revenge was still in order.

He tried to impress upon himself that his life would be better off spent as far away from Sun Wukong as possible but if, for whatever reason, he wanted proof of who he'd once been then he'd need look no further than Flower Fruit Mountain but he warned him not to expect a warm welcome.

Despite all he was dedicating to his new life, he grieved for his current one. Some days he had to stop himself from burning everything he was trying to gift to his new self to the ground.

He didn't want to forget, he didn't want his suffering to have amounted to nothing. And in moments of true madness he even found he didn't want to forget the happy moments that made the bad so unbearable.

As he neared closer to his rebirth he had a quiet moment where he considered if he should say goodbye. It was a hysterical thought - say goodbye to who? Wukong?

The demon that had ruined him? That had driven him to this point? The demon that had promised him forever if only he stayed by his side? That had never truly loved anyone as much as he had loved himself but had easily convinced him otherwise?

No. There was no goodbye necessary.

But he had one last errand to run before the end - he needed to steal a peach from Flower Fruit Mountain to eat when he awoke for the first time. And as he held the pilfered fruit in his hand, his traitorous ears picked up the steady heart beat and gentle breathing of Wukong fast asleep in his hut.

His mind screamed at him to leave and yet before he knew it he found himself standing beside Wukong's bed and looking at him one last time. Numbly he thought to himself that he must have finally lost his mind because, despite everything that had happened, in that moment, his heart ached with a love he'd never managed to kill.

He took a shaky breath and quietly leaned over to place a tender kiss on his forehead before resting his head against his for a moment longer.

He stood and whispered, "We'll meet again. I know myself well enough to know we will."

He left before he could do anything more foolish than he already had.

Everything was ready, he had done everything he could to give himself the best start when he began anew. All he had to do was perform the spell.

He looked at himself one last time in the mirror - glamours and clothes off - and he saw a body worn down by life. He brought a hand to his blind eye, it and all his other scars would be gone. The slate truly wiped clean.

He moved away and laid a hand on the letter he'd left for himself, skimming over even though he knew the entire thing by heart. He was stalling. But he thought he could allow himself these last moments of weakness.

Eventually he brought himself to the bed and lay down, the spell in his hand.

Perhaps he should have prepared a eulogy but it was too late now. He laughed as tears escaped his eye, "Here lies the Six-Eared Macaque... May he who rises in his wake live a better life than he did..."

He closed his eye and the spell started to hum in his hands, he managed what felt like it could have been a smile.

"Don't mess this up, kid... You've got everything to live for."

[overleftdown]

deranged post-canon farleigh speculation

so. archie madekwe said something that makes me question a lot of the other post-canon speculation (often quickstart dynamic post-canon fics, speculation, etc.). Basically, he was talking about how tired Farleigh was getting, in the point in time that the movie is set. This is depicted through his confrontation with Felix, which Archie confirmed was the first conversation Farleigh has had with the cattons about the issue of bias.

a review by hilton als briefly touched on farleigh's possible future, as well. it was a very negative and... honestly understandable idea of what farleigh would grow up to become. aka, someone who exploited and tokenized their race for "brownie points," pun not intended. i see a lot of people crafting stories of farleigh finding different ways to rejoin the ultra-rich class. and i kinda wanna say that i... don't like that. here's an anecdote: my cousin and i had a conversation about his experience moving from a white-dominated, suburban environment. he argues that although racism is still prevalent where he now lives, the racism he experienced in his hometown was so painfully, covertly delivered. it's this sort of "could you just call me a slur or something" mentality.

although farleigh is terrified of change, although farleigh is terrified of losing what he believes is an accommodation for his marginalization (it isn't; you can't buy your way out of racism), although farleigh learned to be materialistic through the ways in which he was raised, although farleigh is constantly running away from something--i think he was reaching a point of genuine hatred for the ways in which racism is delivered to him in this environment. i would also go insane. so freakishly insane. i think his conversation with felix made him understand that maybe the cattons will never even try to change. that the cattons couldn't even acknowledge the problem in the first place. that you can't really win, with people like the cattons. it's always a game of when, and never if. when will they finally, politely discard me?

this leaves a couple options. the first, farleigh learns to be financially independent and very much successful. he would never rely on other people again, especially not white people. this leaves room for hilton als' interpretation, but the fact that farleigh was cognizant of and willing to mention racial bias to felix is evidence for me to assume that farleigh is beyond belittling himself like that. farleigh already experienced so much shame from catering towards the cattons and their whiteness... i don't think he'd keep going with that. not with the way it ended. not after he had the horrible wake-up call that was both his cousins dying. so, maybe farleigh does find his way back to wealth. maybe through fashion, through modeling like his mother, through another form of art, through business, whatever.

the other option is that farleigh just... doesn't acquire that level or even close to that level of wealth again. i kinda like this idea. i kinda like imagining farleigh in a city flat or smaller suburban house, finding a significant other and probably never ever having kids. that, of course, still leaves room for farleigh to go and brutalize oliver out of saltburn. but i'd like to think he wouldn't take saltburn back. as i've said before, farleigh was never greedy. he never wanted to replace or succeed the cattons, nor did he want any form of dominance over them. to be their equal, yes. to be seen and heard and given attention, yes. but never did he play his games to knock felix or venetia down. i feel like farleigh would be the "eat the rich" that saltburn didn't have. not in the corny way, because farleigh is no robin hood, nor is he an innocent and selfless person.

my ideal "sequel" type situation would be farleigh returning to saltburn after living comfortably and humbly for the last 20 years. he's not here out of moral obligation. he's not here to steal back the catton wealth. he's here selfishly, and out of burning hatred. he's here because oliver stole any sense of closure farleigh could've ever had. he's here because oliver never gave farleigh the opportunity to forgive his family, nor to mourn them, nor to visit those memories, nor to make new ones. farleigh is here to wreck oliver's shit. it's not healthy, it's not pretty, it's not clean. i'd imagine 40-year-old farleigh, having matured, returning to saltburn and regressing to the same games he always used to play. lying, people pleasing, pretending, sex, drugs, sass, etc. ahhh. my ideal sequel. a man who found peace without closure and finds closure through a significant lack of peace. and, also, oliver dead as hell.

[clairewritesjjkxreader]

Modern!Husband!Yandere!Sukuna Ryomen

Because who needs healthy relationships with boundaries?

Warnings: Reader’s gender is not mentioned, but there is a hypothetical scenario for cis-females and pregnancy, there is also discussion on adultery and murder, and treatment of children as though they’re objects and not actual humans. 

Enjoy.

A very chill husband, believe it or not. He loves you wholeheartedly and perfectly, that is to say, as long you belong to him nothing else matters.

His affection borders on the psychotic, and should you cheat on him (although God knows why, he's a fine ass man), he'll kill your lover even if they were cognizant about your marriage or not, and try to win your heart back. 

Speaking of adultery, he would never cheat on you. Though he would probably lure someone with some flirting as a way of “teasing” you and you two would end up murdering the third party together. (Let’s face it, you’re both literally crazy for each other.) 

He doesn't care about traditional gender roles and is more than happy to cook and clean and replace the fire alarm batteries and fix the fridge while his baby is busy bringing home the bacon. 

If money isn't an issue he'd quit his job. Although to be honest, the only reason he works is so he wouldn't lose his mind waiting for you at home. No, really. You occupy his mind 90 percent of the time. 

Horny guy. Has railed you on every available surface in the house that isn't dirty.

Hates being away from you, so he tries to come with you to your business trips. If he can't for whatever reason, he refuses to go a day without calling you once in the morning and once before bed.

Not that desperate to “continue his legacy.” He doesn’t care about the future, he only cares about you and being with you and makes you happy because you’re his present. You’re his love and his family. So don’t worry if you don’t want kids, because you’re more than enough for him. You’re all that he needs.

Speaking of family, if you could physically get pregnant and eventually did get pregnant, but then died giving birth, he would definitely hate his kid. He would still raise the thing because it’s part you, and he knows you’ll hate him for not taking care of it, but if one were to turn back time, he would choose you over it any day. 

All in all, Ryomen Sukuna is a horrible human being and a terrible father, but the perfect husband. 

[darkleweather]

I’m catching up to Critical Role and I just had an interesting thought regarding Liam O’Brien’s three major characters over the last 8 years.

Liam has been open about the fact that during campaign 1, his mom passed away and it messed him up. In light of that, I find it so interesting that he seems to be working through that trauma with his characters…and healing.

When we first meet Vax’ildan in campaign one, he’s a bit broody, but mostly tough and snarky and a mischief maker. (Think of all the pranks he pulled on Grog.) But the trauma of Vax repeatedly losing those he cared about and taking on the mantle of the Champion of the Raven Queen turns him much more cognizant of the short time he has with his loved ones. He becomes more protective, more angry, more broody. Vax is clearly someone going through the early stages of grief.

Now think about Caleb. Caleb, who is quiet and introverted and clearly carrying deep, deep trauma and grief. And yet, he still loves and cares deeply, once the Mighty Nein have proven to him that they would die for him. Caleb, who we see move into healing as the story progresses. He never quite loses his sense of pathos (none of Liam’s characters do), but he very obviously ends the series stronger and in a better, more healthy place.

Now Orym. Who lost people he loved in an attack on Zephra. Who is still grieving, but it’s a quieter grief. It’s one that he’s made peace with, tucked away. (Although maybe not as much as he thought, given the events of episode 61, which is the furthest I’ve caught up.) Orym’s grief has shaped him, as it shaped Caleb, as it shaped Vax. He’s come out of it stronger, with abilities that he uses once again to protect, to love fiercely, and it seems like his life purpose is to make sure that no one he loves ever has to go through the grief he himself endured.

I just find it interesting how you can see Liam’s path through grief through Vax, Caleb, and Orym. (And I think it’s brave of him to put so much of himself into these characters.) that’s all. Just my rambly thoughts.

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 10, Day 12, Day 17

Fear | Dehydration | Struggle

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Contains: royalty whump, restraints, death mention, murder mention, fantasy drug/potion, gag/muzzle

WC: 560

Trapped

Waking was always a struggle. To come out of the visions that plagued his sleep was to wrench himself from the iron grip of a thousand other lives, each one sinking barbed thorns into his mind—leaving, he was sure, scars that would never fully heal. To come out of the enchanted sleep that blocked his abilities was to claw his way out of an almost-grave, a silty riverbank, a bog—oblivion still sucking at his boots.

The taste of dirt lingered in his mouth, although he’d taken no food in hours; his parched lips stung and ached for water to quench his thirst. Slowly, he opened his sleep-crusted eyes.

He blinked, heart hammering in his chest. He was . . .

He was in a vision right now.

But that was wrong. He’d taken the medicine, the potion. It kept the visions at bay. So, how . . .

Unless it wasn’t a vision at all.

The seer grappled with his deadened limbs, but they moved sluggishly, still caught in the lull of false sleep. He gasped, terror seeding in every puncture wound the visions had ever left in his psyche and soul.

What is going on?

He was trapped, trapped, caught in a vision of—of what? His own peril? His own impending demise? Never before had he seen himself as the subject of a vision. So, then . . . Who? What?

His thoughts spun, returning again and again to the suspicion that the potion had not worked, that his curse had spiked through to his weakened mind like spears into battlements, jeopardized and poised to surrender. That this was a vision, because it had to be, because if it wasn’t, then he was in a great deal of trouble.

Except . . .

Everything was wrong, everything was unfamiliar, but it didn’t feel like a vision.

He was mad, then.

The seer had known it would steal him someday, his life or his sanity, and it had.

But if he was mad, how could he know he was mad?

He tried to move again, tried to shout for someone, anyone, to rouse him, wake him, help him, drug him, kill him and put him out of his terror and misery.

No. Sensation was returning, slowly and yet still more quickly than he would have liked, because it hurt. This was real, it was real, but it couldn’t be, it couldn’t—

He squeezed his eyes closed, praying the scene would be different when he opened them again.

It was not.

Iron chains circled wrists that were secured behind him, heavy enough to make his bones ache when he tried to move. Fettered, too, were his ankles—two heavy manacles linked and fastened to a something heavy—a cannonball? A ball and chain.

Fettered, shackled—he was trussed up like a prisoner—

A prince, the prince, the crown prince, bound in chains—

He tried to call for help, or at least for answers, and found that something blocked his tongue from moving. It was fitted between his teeth, stretched to the corners of his mouth, and fastened out of reach.

He writhed against the humiliating restraints, half-screaming.

Why?

How?

And . . .

What of the others?

The drug was strong—too strong, he realized now. Whatever had happened after he fell asleep, he had no recollection of it. He’d slept through his own imprisonment.

The seer became cognizant of voices then.

Drawing nearer.

June of Doom Masterlist

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@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[foreverjustaplace]

The Bear, Season 3 PREDICTIONS

OKAY! So with The Bear premiering slightly earlier now, I wanted to go ahead and get my predictions (and maybe some delusional wishes) out on here because I just saw the still where Syd and Carmy are drinking tea after Carmy gets out of the fridge and I definitely had Syd being there when he got out of the walk-in. I never did get my fanfic out before the new season (although who knows. There’s still time!) so I hope I’ll still be in the headspace to finish it after I see the new episodes!

I would LOVE to see everyone’s predictions, too, so add them in the comments or create a post and tag me!

My Predictions:

Let’s start with Sydcarmy first. Oh, hell. This season is going to be one that drags us through all of the emotions. It’s already giving angst galore from all of the promos. A lot of us are worried about this ship, but I have to believe that while Storer may have not initially been on the sydcarmy train, we have a believer in Calo and loves love. We’ll be okay but it’s not going to always be pretty. We’re about to go through it, 100%, but I think the arduous emotional jouney will be worth it in the end (the end perhaps not being this season…). 

As mentioned, I predicted to myself that Syd would be waiting for Carmy when he finally is freed the walk-in refrigerator before I saw the image. To add to this, I believe this will be a very tense moment. Syd is incredibly disappointed with Carmy, but we’re going to get a hellava moment between the two in the very first episode. This moment is going to show just how deep Syd’s love (and I actually do mean in the friendship sense here) runs for Carmy. Despite Carmy already fucking up by not get the fridge fixed, we will get to see Syd give Carmy more grace than he deserves. But she is going to be skeptical as hell of him. He is going to seemingly change overnight and ignore all healthy ways of coping and go straight into this maniacal version of himself. 

They are about to put us through a Sydcarmy fight for the ages after Carmy does his whole partnership shit. But when I tell you this is going to remind us of the most dramatic romances we read on our Kindles, I mean it. Imagine this trope as one of those whole ass agreement list things that one or both of the romance leads (in a friends to lovers, especially) have. The agreement is done when the friends have an insane, amazing friendship and there’s more there, obviously, but they’re afraid to admit it. Sometimes they truly don’t even know that they like each other! In the case of Carmy, he is so avoidant of all of his feelings, he doesn’t even allow himself to think he likes her in this way. And even if he does recognize it, he certainly doesn’t know how to properly channel that into a romantic relationship with Sydney but he is 100% cognizant of the fact that he doesn’t want to lose her. That he CANNOT lose her. This agreement is done under the guide of a professional work agreement, but what he is proposing sounds more initamiate this just a work agreement. I honestly think it’s going to be jarring because on one hand Carmy believes this will lead to a star, but on the other hand what he’s trying to do starts to look and sound more like a non-platonic relationship.  

There is going to be a DREAM sequence that will make sydcarmy shippers happy. I just have this feeling or maybe this is me in delululand. Look. There were one too many damn dream sequence jokes for me to not take it seriously. I’m always a big believer that dream sequences should go big or go home; in fact, I’m trying to go through all of the dream sequences I’ve watched before in my head right now. I can’t think of one that did not involve kissing OR the wake-up-right-before-they-kiss moment at least. Think back to last month’s Polin (Bridgerton). I hope we get the kiss but I’ll even take the latter. BUT I’m going to go big and say that this may not even be a all heated and sexy dream. Um. What if it’s a Sydcarmy wedding!!!  

Syd and Carmy will sit next to each other at the funeral. There will be some comforting hand holding that is going to put us in a chokehold. I think Syd cries and Carmy comforts her. 

Ya know how Carmy helped Claire move whatever the hell furniture last season? Yeah, we’re gonna see a parallel of the moving thing when he helps Syd. We’re gonna get a Sydcarmy moment inside Sydney’s apartment and they’re going to talk about the future. This will be a great scene and will be use in all the future edits for sureee. Fantasyland me wants Carmy to say some shit like, “Syd, I don’t even know why you didn’t just move in with me?” “Carmy, use your head. You have one bedroom ? ? ?” “I would’ve taken the couch, nbd.”

Carmy sees Syd’s tattoos. I hope!! Perhaps this is in the dream sequence? Or maybe they have an actual conversation. Carmy tells Syd what one of his tattoos means. She does the same. But, forreal, this is a headcanon for me. 

To end the season, Syd and Carmy forreal do something that makes it hard to deny they are 100% in the platonic love category. They kiss and there is a conversation that rivals the under the table scene. Richie is the one who helps them get to this point. 

Sydney makes the decision to step away from Carmy a bit. Does she go to Ever? God, I hope not. But I think her health problems are going to be crazier (PLEASE STORER do not make her sick!!! I beg you!) and she can’t deal with Carmy’s shit any longer. I honestly think we’re going to see the season span months and the angst will be rough. Hopefully it’s one of those, “Three Months Later” things so we don’t actually have to see it. LOL Just get me to the end. 

Carmy is about to piss everyone off. I think we’re going to see Tina, Natalie, Richie, Sweeps, even Pete get into it with him. 

There will be a good number of flashbacks this season:

*Mikey in his last few months, weeks, and/or days leading up to his death 

*But also we’ll see some fun, sweet memories involving Mikey. Moments with Richie, Nat, and Carmy.

*Carmy as a chef before The Beef/The Bear. I’m so looking forward to these! 

*We are finally going to see Syd’s mom in flashbacks! 

Emanuael and Carmy meet. Syd’s dad will not like Carmy. He’s not gonna be impressed at all. They are going to talk and Carmy is going to do everything in his power to convince Emanuel he will be better for Syd and that she’s everything to him. Emanuel is going to give him some advice to win over Sydney. 

Richie is going to start dating and at least semi-successful. I think his redemption arc is still happening and specifically related to his relationships. Not gonna lie, I do actually like the idea of Jess and Richie and so I’m going to keep that in the mix and say Richie is the one who sets up Syd with the Ever guy. Richie will attend Tiff and Frank’s wedding. 

Syd and Marcus grow so much closer. Syd is going to serve as a supporting, loving friend to Marcus. They’re going to bond over the dead mom club. It’s going to be wonderful to see their friendship.

Donna is there for Nat. Perhaps she goes into labor and Donna is there to ease her nerves. It’s a wild moment for sure but a pretty poignant one. 

Luca. Dude. I don’t even know. I LOVE his character. I want him to, like, I’d love for him and Marcus to hook up. That would be the absolute best. Hell, I’d really love for Luca to be Sydney and starting flirting with her and with get to see jealous!Carmy! (PLEASE!) but I’ll settle for some flashback scenes. I guessss. Perhaps Luca comes help out at The Bear? I’d love that.

I’ve seen a lot of people say that The Bear will struggle greatly and close. I cannot deal with this LOL. I don’t want this to happen so I’m not going to predict it, but I think there will be some struggling. 

Tina’s story is gonna be emotional. Her journey into the kitchen is going to be one that happens because she desperately needs a job. We’re going to see her with Luis’ father. We are going to see her with Mikey. We’re going to see that she has always been bright and so capable. 

Claire. Man. I don’t like that she is even in this season, but I appreciate a great story and don’t think we can fully wrap this whole thing up if the walk-in fridge breakup was it. Fak is starting to get on my last nerves with his matchmaking shit lol but I think we will see Claire in at least a slightly different and enhanced light. Chris Storer is intentional in everything he does and I don’t believe for one second this doctor can be so surface level. Carmy may have this guilt eating him up and his trauma keeping him from  wanting anything good, but ultimately Carmy doesn’t actually want her. She’s meant to represent this nice person and serve merely as (physical) relief. But I don’t even know. I don’t think she and Carmy are endgame at all. I want Claire to tell Fak to stop his nonsense. I want her to understand her worth and not go back to Carmy after he said all of this shit about her (and not just because I love Sydcarmy but because I’m for the girlies knowing their worth!). 

What I would really love to happen is Claire cursing Carmy tf out. I’d love for Claire and Syd to have a one-on-one conversation and Sydney says something that exposes how she feels about Carmy to Claire. Awkwardness ensues. 

Okay. Damn. I started typing and I couldn’t stop. It was as if I was ten years old again and typing my predictions for the upcoming Harry Potter book. Dang. Take me back to those days! Those prediction threads were unreal. Tell me your predictions! 

[iwantjaketosullyme]

𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ᴘᴀʀᴛ Ⅱ: ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ᴛᴜʀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴇᴀ

➺ pairing: aged up!lo'ak x f!metkayina!reader (fluff) ➺ series summary: lovesick!lo'ak does all he can to win the heart of oblivious!reader ➺ chapter summary: ❝ If one movie trope is true then surely they all are, right? ❞ (w/c: 1.6k) ➺ warnings: drowning (for like 2secs), mention of near death experience, lo'ak's general lack of brain cells (he gets it from his daddy🤭) a/n: lo'ak romcom shenanigans officially ensue !! extra helping of lovesick!lo'ak with an appetiser of neytiri nd lo'ak mother/son moment nd a sprinkle of jake x neytiri bc they're my parents fr. does this count as a fix-it fic?? bc neteyam is v much alive nd well in this lmao. na'vi dictionary at the end :)

« 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬┃𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭┃𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 »

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

Before he knows it, Lo’ak feels the warmth of your arms around his middle and although he is not in the optimal position to enjoy it, drowning and all, his heart soars at the feel of your touch. You haul the both of you towards the surface, soft legs brushing alongside his as you kick and kick and kick, mind set on getting him to safety.

Lo’aks ears perk up as they register the whistle-click sound of you calling for a nearby tsurak. Now above water, he has just enough wherewithal to look up and watch as Niie dutifully responds to your call with her speedy appearance. Traitor.

Small gasps of air are just about enough for him to regain some cognizance, eyes watching curiously as Niie allows you to make tsaheylu and mount her without so much as a fuss. In your rush to attach yourself and your impromptu rescuee to Niie securely, you do not realise his partial recovery.

As you breathe methodically, attempting to stay calm as per your training, you assume that the glazed-over look in his eyes is from Lo’ak coming in and out of consciousness and instruct Niie to make for the village, urgency communicated through the sacred bond.

His mind races as he feels your body pressed up against his. You had propped him up in front of you, so that his back would be leaning against your front, seated on top of Niie. He processes the situation and begins to fantasise about you, his sweet saviour. What he would do to kiss your inviting lips. Perhaps when you get back to shore you’ll be so desperate to save him you’ll give him mouth to mouth, just like in the movies. 

That’s it!, Lo’ak muses to himself. All I have to do is play it up! If one movie trope is true then surely they all are, right?, he thinks naively. Though he may have grown substantially over the past five years in both stature and mental strength, he still had the emotional intelligence of an adolescent Na’vi.

Paired with the idealistic nature of tawtute romantic movies, this makes for an interesting combination, to say the least. Intent on fulfilling his desires, he enacts his half-baked plan with gusto.

He gently turns his head so that it lolls to the left and rests on your shoulder. Bleary eyes look up at you as he smiles deliriously, further selling the idea of him being out of it by rolling his eyes into the back of his head dramatically. He hears you murmur a soft “Oh, Great Mother” and smiles inwardly, willing Niie to put her back into it so you can get to the village and he can get his kiss sooner.

Finally reaching the village shore, Lo’ak remains in character, pressing his eyelids firmly shut as you let out a short grunt, heaving his body off of Niie. You lug him onto the sanctuary of sand, so caught up in your aim of helping him that you do not hear Ao’nung’s concerned and confused shouts as he runs towards you.

Going into autopilot, you lay him flat on the sand and sharply press a flattened palm just under the ‘X’ of his ribs. Without a moment’s delay, your harsh jab jerks his lungs into action.

Before he has a chance to register that his plan is failing spectacularly, he sits up, torso rising out of reflex as he hacks up short bursts of water. The image of his mouth opening and closing reminds you of a baby payoang and despite your efforts, you do not succeed in hiding your amusement.

Lo’ak’s ears begin to ring from the unexpected purge of water from his lungs and his hearing clears just as Ao’nungs bellowing laughter and your sweet giggles reach his ears that are folded back in embarrassment. He wallows in self-consciousness for a second, before allowing himself to bask in the warmth of your gaze as you look down at him and ask if he is okay.

After giving you a hurried “Irayo!”, Lo'ak immediately makes for the Sully family marui, eager to recount his story to somebody, anybody. As he approaches the marui, he sees a full head of braided hair through the slightly ajar opening. Must be Neteyam. He lengthens his strides, entering the marui with an excited “Ayo bro, you won’t believe what just happ-” 

He is swiftly cut off by a mildly irritated “I am not your bro. I am your mother, boy” and as he walks in fully he is met with a disapproving look only a mother could execute perfectly. 

“Ma- Ma sa’nok,” Lo’ak stutters, caught off guard and still recovering from the somewhat traumatic experience he’d had less than half an hour ago. “Oel ngati kameie.” He greets her respectfully, bringing his fingers to his forehead and hoping it’s enough to stave off whatever bone she has to pick with him now.

When she abandons the root vegetable she was chopping, rises from the woven mat she was previously seated on and stalks up to him like predator to prey, he knows he has no chance. Eywa help him.

“What kind of time do you call this? I thought I told you it was your turn to help me prepare lunch today?” Oh, right. He had set out for the water so early, day had not yet broken. When he cranes his neck to look to the sky now, he realises it is mid-afternoon. With all the excitement of the day he had forgotten the promise he made to his mother.

Neytiri’s beads clack against each other, head moving in sync with her questioning, whole body communicating her displeasure. “Or is my adult son incapable of keeping his word?”

As the scathing words depart from her mouth, Neytiri instantly regrets them. She knows that ever since the return of the Sky People had nearly threatened his brother’s life, Lo’ak had done everything in his power to avoid disappointing his parents. Even betraying his naturally adventurous and rebellious spirit to do so. Inching towards him slowly, her eyes search for his after seeing his head drop, jaw setting stubbornly and eyebrows furrowing. A look from Lo’ak she knows all too well. 

When he eventually braves eye contact with her, he is relieved to find the apologetic question lurking within them – will you forgive me? 

With a gentle sigh, he drops his head forward, leaning down so that it rests on her shoulder. He mumbles a quick, but sincere, “’m sorry sa’nok” into her shoulder, her hand coming up to lovingly caress the back of his head. She lets out an appreciative hum as the two sway back and forth, before resuming their conversation with an inquisitive “So what was it that you were so desperate to say that you mistook me for your tsmukan, eh?” And with that, Lo’ak tells her all about you.

He speaks of the embarrassment he still feels warming his cheeks, considering the fact that he spent the first ten minutes of meeting you staring like a creep and the next ten flapping about like a payoang struck by the fateful arrow of a crossbow. Deciding to be vulnerable with her, he tells her of Cupid’s arrow of love that he has heard of in multiple tawtute movies, how he knows he too has been struck by it.

Of course, she asks to know who this ‘kyoopid’ is (she refuses to watch tawtute trash) and to his dismay, his explanation is met by an affronted “Eywa is the only divine being!” before she warns him that she had better hear him sing the loudest at communal worship in the coming evening. 

He groans playfully, allowing himself to find amusement in his mother’s idiosyncrasies before insisting that Eywa does not want to hear his croaky voice. The mother and son wile away the time, preparing lunch together while Lo’ak bares his heart to her, telling the story of his newest love to his oldest love.

As the cooking of the meal nears completion, Neytiri’s tender gaze meets her son’s and she asks, “What is the name of this girl then? So I can thank her for saving my skxawng son?” And interrogate her to see if she is fit to mate with the son of Toruk Makto, she adds in her mind.

It is with that query that Lo’ak realises that he did not, in fact, ask you for your name. He never will beat those ‘skxawng’ allegations, will he? In an uncommon moment of romantic flair, he tells her about the Greek goddess of love, Aphrodite (Kiri had been talking his ear off about Greek lore since she found a book about Greco-Roman mythology from Grace’s recovered belongings). As if experiencing an epiphany, he decides that this will be his nickname for you. After all, you danced like you too, were born of the sea. 

While Neytiri insists that she will not allow her ears to be poisoned with any more tawtute nonsense, she is secretly happy that she is the first to hear of Lo’ak’s romantic developments and makes a mental note to laud it over Jake in the near future.

Soon enough, it is late afternoon and the Sullys are all gathered to eat the meal prepared with love. When Jake hears the story, he cheekily remarks with his typical refined rasp, “Y’should thank your old man for those good ol’ Sully genes that make a pretty girl wanna save ya, boy” as he directs a wink across the table at Neytiri, ignoring the indignant chorus of "Dad!" chimed by his disgusted children.

Used to his jesting by now, Neytiri rolls her eyes and retorts, “If not for the Great Mother you would be long dead by now, skxawng.” The marui fills with the joyous laughter of the four children – Neteyam’s brief chuckle, Kiri’s amused scoff, Lo’ak’s mocking guffaw and Tuk’s high-pitched titter. As Lo’ak observes his parents, he lets his mind wander and begins to imagine what domestic life with you would look like. For you, he decides, he’s happy to never beat those skxawng allegations.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

na’vi dictionary

tsurak- skimwing // tsaheylu- sacred neural bond // tawtute - sky person, sky people // payoang - fish // irayo- thank you // marui - tent // sa’nok - mother // oel ngati kameie - I see you // tsmukan- brother // toruk makto - rider of last shadow // skxawng - idiot 

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