#Back Strap Sandals Womens

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[amuromi]

★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 7.4k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! baby fever!Nanami, breeding kink, unprotected sex, established relationship (married), pet names (darling, sweetheart, baby), oral (f!receiving), lots of talk about babies and children

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ This was a request for husband!Nanami trying for a third baby!

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 ✦ ⋆˙ yukata ┈ summer kimono ⋆ obi ┈ sash used to tie yukata and kimono ⋆ hatsutanjo ┈ baby’s first birthday! ⋆ isshou mochi ┈ a 2kg rice cake babies carry around on their first birthday ⋆ erabitori ┈ a tradition of giving the birthday babies items to choose from to determine what they’ll be like when they grow up

The park is pleasant for once. With the turn of the seasons, the weather has soothed to something far more palatable than the roaring heat of the summer. A breeze rustles through the air, kicking up the scent of freshly-trimmed grass and algae from the park’s pond. Koi fish, scaled in calico spots, swim in lazy circles as visitors toss handfuls of food into the greenish water. It’s still early afternoon on a Thursday, and aside from the elderly patrons dropping morsels into the water there’s only a few people in the park. A man walking his dog, a group of young women jogging along the park trail. The largest party is surely their own as the Nanami family gathers to celebrate their youngest daughter turning one. Nanami himself feels slightly out of place, unused to enjoying such leisure on a weekday after years of spending nearly every day of his life at work. But his wife was insistent that Yuka’s birthday be celebrated on her exact birthdate, so he requested the time away. It’s a welcomed change of pace despite the fact that it almost feels like he’s still at work with the way his coworkers–old friends, they say ruefully–have joined the celebration. It’s hardly a burden seeing how much his daughters adore Gojo and Shoko. 

The party is spread out on the patchwork of blankets laid beneath the grove of trees, family and friends all gathered together to celebrate Yuka. The birthday girl looks a bit miffed by the theatrics of it all. Her face is pinched in a nearly pensive look, bottom lip jutted out into a pout, likely unhappy with being wrapped up like an onigiri in her little yukata. She’s long since kicked off her sandals, prefering to toddle around the grass barefoot with her sack of rice cakes strapped to her back. While not usually a strict traditionalist, Nanami’s wife always defers to his parents’ judgment when it comes to how family gatherings should be managed and his mother has always been fond of following customs. 

And being the perfect daughter-in-law that you are, you always go above and beyond to suit your in-law’s needs no matter how many times Nanami reminds you that such lengths aren’t needed to please his parents. They already love you–adore you really–but you insist that you’re doing these things because you want to, not to please anyone. He believes you, of course, more enthralled than anything that you have such unwavering respect for his parents. Even when his mother gets a little uppity with how meticulous she is about planning big events. All this fanfare was her idea in the first place. 

Not the park–although it doesn’t slip Nanami’s notice that you chose somewhere close to his parents’ home to host the party–but the traditional aspects of the day were definitely the fault of his overly nostalgic mother. When your eldest daughter, Ayako, was born his mother brought out her photo albums to whine about missing when he was little because “he never let me take care of him once he got to middle school,” and cooing over how happy she is to finally be a grandmother. Though he imagines her excitement was a cross between empty nest syndrome and surprise that he’d finally settled down after spending most of his twenties burning the candle at both ends. Between being a salaryman and a sorcerer–although he’s never been very forthright about what that particular job entails–Nanami was slowly grinding himself to dust. But it only took a single glimpse of you sitting in his favorite bakery to reignite his interest in a life outside of work. His mother practically melted the first time he brought you home. Babbling and gushing, something close to tears, at how happy she was to see him bringing a girl home. Though he could’ve lived without her mentioning his lack of romantic partners up until that point. 

Now the older woman is working herself up again just watching Yuka explore the park. She has her two kilogram rice cake riding on her back in a little bag and the weight of it occasionally knocks her off her feet. Every little stumble or fall is rewarded with more maternal gushing about how “falling is good, she’s shaking off the bad luck!” It would be irritating if it were anybody else fawning over a baby, the childish tinge to her voice working Nanami’s nerves in a way he tries to ignore because, in some less zealous way, he gets it. 

Nanami’s hardly taken his eyes off Yuka since she woke up this morning. Exactly a year later and he still finds it hard to believe that she’s real. Even Ayako seems like a dream two–nearly three–years later. He never imagined he’d be a father. He wanted a wife but the family part never really came to mind. Because, really, he never saw further than what was in front of him when it came to life goals. As a sorcerer the next day was the only goal he had in mind. Fight, survive, live to see tomorrow. He’s not so bleak and nihilistic now that he’s returned to the supremely safer walls of an office, working as a manager at Jujutsu High now that he’s retired from more active duty despite his high Grade level. The pay is good and keeps him off the front lines so he can’t really complain about what was technically a demotion. 

Gojo opined about it being a waste of his potential but a flippant mention of his plans to get married shut him up real quick. Then immediately brought on another slew of complaints as the closest person he has to a friend pouted about not being introduced to his lover. Gojo hadn’t even known you existed by that point, but he’s here now. Eating and playing with Nanami’s daughters like he didn’t strong-arm him into a proper friendship after years of a strictly senior-junior working relationship. For a moment, he reconsiders the idea as Gojo’s face screws up like he’s thinking real hard about something, blue eyes staring at his daughter’s face. And he just knows Gojo is about to say something asinine. 

“Were you even in the room when you made her?” Gojo asks when Yuka tires herself out enough to sit beside him. Nanami watches his wife kiss her teeth, glowering at Gojo as she wipes Yuka’s hand with a baby wipe and hands her a dumpling she’d been reaching for. 

“I’m just saying,” Gojo continues around a mouthful of cake. “Look at her.” Yuka’s happy to be picked up even if Gojo is holding her at arm’s length like she’s a rabid puppy looking to sink her teeth into him. Never mind the fact that at exactly a year old, Yuka has all of eight teeth in her mouth that are about as formidable as the blunt end of a chopstick. She shows them off with a giggle as Gojo bounces her, seeming to enjoy the befuddled face he’s making as he looks between you and Yuka, then Yuka and Nanami. 

“I was there.” His wife grouses, stabbing a dumpling of your own as you pout. “And watch your mouth.” You nod pointedly towards the girls. Although a bit vulgar, he isn’t wrong. There’s no mistaking who Nanami’s babies belong to when they look so much like their father. Blonde hair, brown eyes, and while they’re too young to look anything other than round-faced, you’re insistent that you can just tell that their faces are going to narrow out to match his sharper features when they’re older. It doesn’t seem to bother you that they only share a passing resemblance to you. Something in the tone of their skin and texture of their hair. But Ayako definitely has your nose. 

“You should try for one that looks more like you.” Gojo whispers over Yuka’s head. Usually Nanami wouldn’t put much stock in the things Gojo says when he takes that playful tone, but something about it makes him pause. The joke passes between the two of you with a conspiratorial laugh, neither a confirmation or denial of the idea, and it tosses water on the seed Nanami has kept carefully hidden in the recesses of his mind since your first pregnancy. 

Sometimes it makes Nanami stop and think about how things turned out for him, almost guilty that he’s had a comparatively normal life when looking at the legacy most sorcerers leave behind. It’s nearly a rite of passage to perish in the line of duty at the hands of some curse. At one point, he’d been resigned to it, but every modicum of acceptance evaporated the moment he decided to marry you. Before, when you were only dating, he rationalized that his death would have less of an impact. That you’d be able to move on from a man that was so aloof towards everyone. But he is nothing if not fiercely loyal and violently protective. The moment he decided to marry you–before even asking you the question–you truly became his world. And he’s enjoyed living in it every moment since. Perhaps he doesn’t tell you often enough, still awkward and reserved about expressing his emotions, but he shows you in the ways he knows how. 

Just because he can–still learning to let himself enjoy these small moments–he reaches over to touch the nape of your neck. For the occasion, you’ve donned your own yukata, the collar pulled away from the back of your neck as is traditional. He watches the shiver work through your body as his cold fingers drag up the column of your neck. You reach to cover your exposed skin as goosebumps raise, pulling his hand away to twine your fingers together. As if by habit rather than thought, you lift your joined hands to your lips to leave a flower-petal red mark on the back of his hand. Nanami’s eyes linger on the perfect print of your lips, wondering if it’s too soon to broach the topic of another baby. Yuka is only one and Ayako is just nearly three, but he can’t help but wanna see you pregnant again. Because Gojo and his damn mouth just had to mention a baby that looks like you. Trying for a baby that looks like you. And in this quiet moment, despite everything happening around him, Nanami can’t help but linger on the thought. 

It’s a selfish wish because you’ve never complained about how your pretty girls look but he can’t help but want to try now that someone’s gone and brought it up again. His mother had preened at both hundred day celebrations, insisting that the Nanami genes are strong or why else would his girls look so much like him, so much like Nanami’s own father. And he knows it’s true to an extent, one plus one equals two and genetics work out in different ways, but Nanami can’t help the desire to try. 

He’s staring and he knows it. Eyes lingering on the shape of your lips and flutter of your lashes like he doesn’t see you everyday. His staring is only interrupted when Yuka stands up, babbling about mama, mama! with one hand pointed towards the pond while the other keeps hold of another half-eaten dumpling. 

Nanami watches you go, trailing after Yuka as she leads the way to the water. Halfway to the stones shaping out the shore, Yuka holds up her dumpling and he watches you crouch down to accept it, nipping playfully at Yuka’s fingers. His daughter squeals in delight, laughing as you scoop her up in your arms to press kisses over her face as you pretend to bite at her round cheeks. Yuka kicks and giggles, enjoying the attention as her cheeks start to blush with the marks of your lips, lipstick painting her into a doll with rosy red cheeks. It’s enthralling, the way you treat his baby, setting her down carefully at the edge of the water as she points at each fish and duck she finds skimming the pond. You’re kneeling next to her, ruining your yukata with the dirt and grime of the ground as you hold Yuka close to your side to keep her from falling into the water. 

He couldn’t have picked a better woman to have his babies, to be his wife. And even if they don’t look much like you, Nanami is glad it’s your personality that his little girls reflect. You always say babies are like sponges, sucking up traits from everything around them and he can see it plain as day in moments like this. Yuka likes being outside, shrieking with delight at every animal she sees, because she’s always following after you like a little duckling anytime you’re out in the garden. Ayako will eat any food you put in front of her because she’s always underfoot when you’re in the kitchen. Like little pieces of clay, Nanami can see the impressions your hands have left on the girls as they’ve grown. 

He’s there, too, in less obvious ways. Ayako has never complained about bedtimes, never thrown a fit about having to go to daycare because she’s just like her daddy. Nanami likes structure and punctuality and it makes his oldest easy to manage. The same way Yuka can easily speak up for herself, so quick to snap out a petulant no! if something is making her upset or uncomfortable. It always makes you laugh how prompt she is about her irritation even at such a young age. Nanami can’t help but wonder if baby number three–if and when they come along–will look like you and act more like him. 

He’s so deep in his mind, wrapped up in the thought of a baby with your eyes and his nose, that it takes his mother clapping to make him refocus. She smacks her hands together like she’s banging cymbals and Ayako decides she wants to help, clapping along from Shoko’s lap as his mother announces that it’s time for the erabitori. She digs through one of the legions of bags you brought to the outing, shooing his father aside so she can make space on the blanket for the erabitori items. Nine in all are set out on the blanket. 

Another tradition meant to guess at his child’s future. Each item has its own meaning. A 1,000 yen–weighed down with a rock to keep the breeze from carrying it off–for wealth, a calculator for an affinity for mathematics or business. You carry Yuka back from the water, setting her down once his mother has finished fiddling with the arrangements. Yuka waits patiently until she’s urged forward–rice cake in tow–towards the neat row of objects. She seems to consider everything for a moment, even smacking her little fist on the travel-sized dictionary before thinking better of it and picking up the pen instead. His mother claps again as Yuka tests the taste of the pen between her little teeth. 

“Pen!” His mother says happily. Gojo leans towards Shoko and whispers none too quietly, “What does the pen mean again?” 

“Studious.” You answer happily. “And good at writing or drawing. I didn’t have a paint brush for art but a pen is good too.” Nanami had picked up a ruler on his first birthday. Methodical. Diligent. It makes sense that he turned out so pragmatic. Ayako had picked up the pair of chopsticks and his mother had insisted on feeding her extra for the rest of the day because chopsticks mean you’ll never have to worry about food. The tradition is inoffensive, and you seem fond of it. “It’s cute!” you insisted when his mother suggested it for Ayako’s hatsutanjo. Really, he couldn’t care less what the future holds for his children as long as they’re safe and happy. He hopes his level of cursed energy is a fluke. Neither of his parents can so much as see curses, so it’s likely his girls will never become embroiled in the sorted life he’s lived up to now. Pen or chopsticks, it’s all the same to him. 

“Kento picked the ruler, do you remember?” His mother beams, working herself up into another spiel about how much she misses taking care of him. She goes on about it for a while, long enough for Yuka to abandon the pen and start fussing about the weight of the rice cake still strapped to her back. 

“C’mere, baby.” Just your voice is enough to soothe your daughter in an instant. She quiets down, little arms reaching towards you for comfort. She nuzzles her way into the collar of your yukata, nosing away the tightly wrapped fabric so she can hide beneath it. Nanami recognizes the lethargy in her arms, the way she pulls them back close to her chest the moment the straps of her issho mochi bag are pulled off. She’s tired, probably halfway to sleep already with the way she’s curled up like a cat in your lap. Shoko is in the same boat with Ayako yawning from her place in the woman’s arms. It’s been a long day, the sun turning darker as it begins to set behind the trees in beams of orange light. 

Everything is packed away with a methodical swiftness, not at all hindered by the baby on your hip. It’s not until you’re all walking towards the parking lot, exchanging final goodbyes with Gojo and Shoko, that his mother starts to drum up a fuss again. 

“Could we take them for the weekend?” There’s barely enough time to consider the question before the woman launches into a seemingly prepared speech about how their house is closer and you’ve worked hard planning and deserve a break. In the end you rouse Ayako and Yuka just enough to ask if they want to spend a few days with their grandparents. All it takes is a reminder that the ice cream shop they like is near grandma and grandpa’s house to get the babies to happily agree to visiting. His parents have always been attentive to his children so Nanami knows there’s no need to worry over not having packed any clothes or toys for the girls. Even his father’s car is already equipped with the proper car seats for each of his girls. All you need to do is kiss them goodbye and promise to call in the morning. And just because you’re clingy with your babies, you stand and pout even after the taillights of the car have disappeared around a corner. 

Nanami brushes his thumb over your jutted lip, smearing lipstick on the pad of his finger. 

“I don’t like when you’re upset, darling.” It’s a simple fact but it always gets you to ease up. He doesn’t ask you to smile–knows you hate it when men badger you about it when you’re out running errands without him–but there’s the hint of a smile on your face when he opens the car door for you. Even after so many years together, Nanami hasn’t lost his manners. At least, not outwardly because he spends the entire drive home trying to keep his hands to himself. The long skirt of your yukata makes it easier for him to behave because he can’t feel your skin when his hand drifts towards your thigh, but he wants to untie your obi the moment the last of the bags are brought in the house. 

You look perfectly ruffled from a day spent outdoors with two toddlers. Hair slowly coming loose from the updo you’d pinned it into this morning, collar hanging open after Yuka tucked her face into your chest, lipstick faded from eating and giving out kisses. He wants to muss you up further. Ruin your hair and makeup and get you out of your pretty clothes. The idea of another child is still fresh in his mind, and while he knows the responsible adult thing to do is have a proper conversation about it, Nanami can’t help but just want to fold you up and make you take it. You’ve always said you want a big family. 

“Want you in my bed.” Nanami’s lips brush against the back of your neck as his arms wrap around your waist so he can feel how you tense up, thighs squeezing as his words sink in. It’s always been easy to get you how he wants. You say it’s something about how imposing he can be, all broad shoulders and graveled whispers in your ear. It only takes a few words to get you weak in the knees and Nanami’s quick to sweep you up, carrying you to the bedroom. The bed is neatly made, the same as you left it this morning, and he’s looking to ruin it by the end of the night. He tosses you onto the duvet but you’re quick to scramble to your feet, squeaking about taking off your makeup and taking down your hair. 

“Leave it.” There hasn’t been much reason for you to get all dolled up recently and Nanami is looking forward to having your makeup run and hair hanging loose. Undoing it all now would deprive him of the pride in knowing he’d been the one to ruin it. Still, you stand in the middle of the room looking unsure of what to do so Nanami decides for you. From his seat at the edge of the bed he draws you in close by your waist. 

“Want this off, sweetheart.” He instructs, running his hands over your waist hidden beneath the bulk of your obi. It’s cute to see how shy he can make you when he tries. Getting you all flustered and nervous like he hasn’t been with you for years, like this is all new and you’re just hoping to keep his attention. His eyes have nowhere to be but on you. His pretty wife carefully undoing the bow tied in her sash as you take off your yukata like unwrapping a present. Something nice just for him as the robe slides off your shoulders and pools at your feet. Beneath it is a plain tank top and shorts but it has Nanami’s pants feeling tighter even still. Your shorts are just tight enough to bite into your skin, lining out the shape of your thighs and he reaches out to tuck his fingers up under the hem, squeezing at your hips as he pulls you closer. 

A kiss is laid on the sliver of skin standing between your shorts and shirt before his hands are under there too, pushing it higher until you get the message and take it off yourself. Nanami considers keeping your shorts on. They’re the kind he could push to the side to get to where he wants to be, but he wants to see so they’re tossed aside too. He doesn’t miss the way you turn shy once he gets you in your underwear, knees knocking and feet shifting like it’s the first time all over again. It almost feels like it with the way Nanami’s brain is working overtime trying to remember which positions are best for making a baby. 

“Hi, mama,” he says, hands petting over your waist as you giggle, something sweet and breathless. 

“Hey, Kento.” Just the sounds of his name rolling off your tongue is enough to get his dick twitching, pants feeling too tight as his cock strains against his zipper. But how else is he supposed to feel after spending the day watching you be such a perfect mother for his babies? There’s no other reaction when you’re looking so beautiful and he’s got you home to an empty house. And you’re making it worse with the way your hands are running through his hair, nails scratching across his scalp in a way that sends shivers down his spine. Mumbling about “so eager, papa,” like you’re not pulling him closer as he kisses wet marks over the shape of your tummy. Your soft laughter turns to squealing as he pulls hard at your hips, tripping you up so you land on his lap. Nanami groans, can’t help being loud when you’re sitting so pretty on his dick. He can feel the heat of your pussy through his pants. 

He’s eager, but you’re right there with him, hips already moving as you grind yourself down on his cock. He’s barely touched you, just some soft words and gentle touches and your pussy is already drooling all over his pants. There’s a wet spot where you’re grinding and he likes seeing the way you’re marking him up like you’ve got anybody to compete with. His hands flex around your waist, squeezing and kneading until he decides you’re done teasing. One hand slips away to wrestle with his belt, struggling blindly over the button and zipper because he can’t take his eyes off the way your lips part around soft pants of his name. Cute little sighs of Kento that have him rushing to get his dick out of his pants. The hisses when your fingers wrap around him, squeezing softly as you thumb over the mess leaking from his flushed tip. You’re going slow, being gentle, looking at him with those pretty eyes like you need permission to touch your husband when he’s this desperate for you. 

“S’your, sweetheart.” He can’t help the way his voice dips low, sounding angry as his hips thrust into the tightness of your fist. “Whatever you want.” His hands shift from your hips to your back, running up the column of your spine at just the right time to feel you shiver. Your teeth nip at your lips, lashes batting all shy like because you love when his voice gets deep and gruff like he’s mad at you. 

“C’mon, baby,” he tries to sound sweet but he’s stuck in that low reverb that has you squirming as he lifts you up to sit on his dick. You’re real helpful, pulling your panties to the side and guiding him inside you with a whimpering sigh. He sees you trying to be quiet as your pussy struggles to take him in one go. He should’ve loosened you up on his fingers but you don’t sound upset, making little stuttering sounds as you try to take him in deeper. He has to grab your hips, muttering “slow” and you whine. He knows his voice is making it worse for you because you’ve always loved the way he talks to you. 

“Kento.” He hears your voice break as you pout when his hands keep you from taking him any deeper. He wants you to. Fuck, does he want to see your pussy swallow him all, but you’re getting too eager and he’s not about to let you hurt yourself on his dick. No matter how you bat those wet lashes at him, pouting ’cause you know he always wants his girl to have everything she wants. Especially if it’s him. He kisses between your brows, brushing back loose strands of hair, and reminds you to go slow. It’s torturous, feeling the way your pussy is already trying to milk him when he’s only halfway inside. He keeps your pace steady even as he feels you trying to buck against his strength to get him in deeper. 

“Relax, sweetheart. Gotta calm down if you want me inside.” Nanami croons, lips pressed up against the shell of your ear. That gets you to loosen up, taking in slow, steady breaths as he works you down inch by inch until he’s got you sitting all the way down on his dick. It’s enough to knock the breath out of him feeling the way your pussy is making a mess in his lap. Your thighs are shaking as you clutch at his shirt, struggling to lift yourself up. Now that he’s pressed up deep inside you, you’re trying to run away from him. He’s mean about grabbing at your hips, keeping you sitting pretty on his cock. He can feel your cunt squeezing real tight around him, pussy trying to milk him before he’s even moved and he knows the second he does he’s not gonna let you off his dick until he’s satisfied. He hears you sniffling about it being too much after trying to rush into it and it makes him smile. 

“Yeah, darlin’? S’too much? Tell me where you feel it, baby. Show me.” It takes a second for your hand to unclench from his shirt to press his fingers into the shape of his cock pressing up against your tummy. He can feel the faint shape of himself seated up inside you and it makes his cock twitch just looking at it. You always take it so well. He can tell by the look in your eyes, behind the sparkling tears, that you’re confused. He’s not usually like this, all mean and demanding. Nanami prides himself on being a gentleman and treating his pretty wife like fine china but tonight he’s acting possessed, so wrapped up in the thought of getting you with another baby. His baby. One that looks just like you, just like him. It doesn’t matter as long as he’s got you waddling around all big and pretty in the next few months. Trying to find his usually sweetness, Nanami digs past the desperation to get you bouncing in his lap, keeping your pace slow and steady even as he wants to fuck you hard and fast. That’s not how this works. His babies are made with love. Can’t have you feeling anything less than adored when he fills you up. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.” It’s hard to get you to focus with the way you’re hiding your face in his chest but he gets you to look up long enough to ask if you want another baby. Your body reacts before your mouth has time to shape out the words. He feels it in the muted sting of your nails biting into his shoulders through his shirt, sees it in the way your eyes widen and head nods. 

“Want it. Want another baby.” You agree, stuttering over how fast you’re trying to get the words out. Whining about, “as many as you want, Kento.” That’s all it takes. He pulls you down hard, making you take him to the base in another deep stroke that has you keening. You’re starting to move on your own, rushing to fuck it out of him. He’s still got his hands on you, squeezing at the softness of your thighs as they shake and tense with how hard you’re riding him. Nanami’s seen you eager but this something else. Something wild and desperate. All he can focus on is the way your cunt is gripping him like you never want to let him go. Good, because he doesn’t wanna let you go either. 

He knows he’s crowding you, but he can’t help but wrap his arms around you. Around your waist and up your back so he can cradle your head and make you look at him while you bounce on his cock. Black streaks are already running down your cheeks as he’s looking to smudge your lipstick beyond saving as his lips seal over yours. It’s hardly a kiss with the way your lips can’t close around each panting breath but he swallows all your little noises happily, tongue sweeping over yours. 

“Gonna cum for me, darling?” He asks when you really start getting noisy, whimpering and moaning but still keeping quiet like you don’t have the house to yourselves. He can feel your whole body shaking and he reaches between your bodies to work his fingers over your clit. It nearly kills him, how hard you clench as he teases the sensitive little bud. You’ve stopped riding and started grinding, moving your hips in those damning circles that barely do anything for him but he lets you because he knows it feels good to you the way his cock is stirring up your insides. He presses a kiss to your forehead and tells you to keep going ’cause Nanami likes when his wife feels good on his dick even if he’s not getting anything from it. He’s here for you, for your pleasure. All you gotta do is take it. And you do. Wetting his fingers as you come hard, slick leaking down his dick as you shudder through your orgasm. 

“Feels good, baby?” He knows it does. You’re grabbing onto him like you’ll fall apart if he’s not there to hold you up, trying your best to get up. He watches your struggle, the rough pads of his fingers still teasing at your clit even as you jerk at the overstimulation. He’s got you so loose that your legs are useless as you try to sit up, every little shift only sinking you deeper on his cock because you can’t find the strength to get up with how hard your legs are shaking. Nanami keeps you there with a hand on your hip, not pulling you down or lifting you up, just keeping your hips grinding against his dick until he feels you cumming again. A smaller, more fluttering orgasm that has you clenching real nice around his cock. 

He kisses your spit-soaked lips with soft praises of “just like that, sweetheart,” chuckling darkly at how soft and pliant you’re getting. It’s like you’re melting in his arms, so wet you’re swallowing him back inside and it gets him close when he feels you take him all over again. He hears his name, soft and shuddering as you try to break through the prolonged pleasure. He can’t tell if it’s praise or a complaint so he helps you up to your knees, going slow so you feel every inch of him as it slips out of your wet heat. He’s absolutely leaking against his stomach, leaving a wet patch on his shirt as he lays you down properly. You’re tired, he can tell, but you’re still pawing at his arms and whining about how he didn’t come yet. 

“Said you were gonna give me a baby.” It almost hurts how hard you’ve got him with just a few words and that little pout. He brushes his fingers over your lips like he always does when you pull that face and you open your mouth to take them inside, tongue cleaning up the mess you’ve left on his fingers. Fuck. He snatches his hand out of your mouth and you smirk like you know exactly what you did sucking on his fingers like they were his cock. If he wasn’t so close to the edge he might consider letting you taste the real deal, let you choke on his cock the way you so clearly want to. But he’s not sure he’ll last and he wants all his come going inside your cunt tonight. Anywhere else would be a waste. Can’t get you pregnant by cumming down your throat. 

There’s not much of a show in the way he takes off his clothes but you stare like you don’t ever want to see anything else as he pops each button of his shirt. It’s tossed aside with little fanfare and he remembers you’re still partially clothed so he spares the moment to unhook your bra and drag your soaked panties down your legs. It’s got you all shy again like he can’t see the way your cunt is still dripping, thighs shiny as you press them together and watch him kick off his slacks. He knows he needs a moment before he touches you again because it’s getting hard to remember to treat you nicely with the way his mind is cluttered with all the little things he’s missed about seeing you pregnant. 

The subtle swell of your belly in the first few months when you complain about how you look fat and bloated, not pregnant. Getting to watch you putter around the kitchen, making the most abhorrent flavor profiles he’s ever seen in the hopes of quelling your cravings. He can’t wait to hear the nickname you give your baby bump. Ayako was “bean sprout” and Yuka had been “bunny” because she was always kicking. 

Nanami tries to focus on something softer so he isn’t too rough with you. Usually it wouldn’t matter as long as you’re feeling good but tonight is special–making babies is special–and he doesn’t want to look back and say baby number three was all heat and aggression. So he stops to take his time, pressing warm kisses up your legs until he’s got his head between your thighs. Your hands are in his hair again as he puts your legs over his shoulders, nails scratching over the tapered cut at the nape of his neck. He rewards the feeling with a long tease of his tongue as his lips wrap around your clit. He hears that little sound you always make when he’s got his head between your thighs. A little fluttering gasp that has him humming because he loves hearing his wife feel good, even if you’re still stifling your voice. 

One hand leaves his hair as he tongues at your cunt, covering your mouth like he doesn’t want to hear every little noise he can draw out of you. He can feel how good you’re feeling riding his tongue. Feel you dripping down his chin and wetting his cheeks as he drags the flat of his tongue over your clit with quick strokes. He’s making a mess as his tongue teases at your fluttering hole. You’re canting your hips, pulling him closer with sharp tugs at his hair. There’s desperation in the way you’re riding his face, getting him all wet as you grind your clit against his nose like he didn’t just have you gushing on his dick. Your little pussy is greedy, swallowing two fingers at once as he presses them up inside you, hooking against the place that has your back arching and thighs clenching. Nanami groans at the feeling of your soft legs closing around his head, locking him in where you want him most. 

This time you come with a muffled shout, voice breaking over the sound of his name. A quiet mantra of Kento, Kento, Kento fills his head as Nanami drags out each shiver and jolt until you’re really pulling at his hair, trying to get his mouth off your pretty little cunt. Threads of spit and slick draw a line between his mouth and your twitching pussy and he can’t help but lavish a few more kisses between your legs before he’s sucking your taste off his fingers. 

“One more, sweetheart.” He’s nearly begging as he crawls up your shivering body. “Gimme one more and then I’ll let you rest, promise.” He seals it with a kiss, loving the way you cling to keep him close even when he barely moves away from you. 

“Can you do that for me, darling?” He asks just to make sure he hasn’t tired you out yet. You nod, eyes misty with tears as you reach between your bodies to guide him inside you. It’s different with how wet you are. It feels like he’s melting as he bottoms out inside you, real slow like he hasn’t already loosened you up more than enough. You take him to the hilt and he nearly cums just from the soft, hazy look on your face. Something drunk and lovestruck as you stare up at your husband. Nanami thinks he must look just the same as he presses kisses over your face, tasting the salt of sweat and tears. His sweet little wife, doing so good for him. He says as much as he pulls away just to press back inside. You shiver and wrap yourself around him. Arms around his shoulders and legs around his hips. There’s barely any space between you. Everything is skin against skin as he kisses you, tongue chasing yours as you whine into his mouth. 

“Wanna hear you,” Nanami grits after another pretty sound is lost as you hide your face in his neck. “S’just us, sweetheart. Lemme hear your pretty voice.” He shifts his hips, aiming higher so he can find that place that has you keening. It takes a few more grinding thrusts to get you wailing, nails biting into his skin as he works those beautiful sounds out of you. It’s still not as loud as he wants, as loud as you used to be, but it’s enough. Gets his blood pumping and balls tightening as you whine about how good he feels inside you. He can feel himself getting close. His pace starts to break, losing his rhythm as he teeters on the edge. Nanami looks between you and sees the way you’re creaming on his cock, getting him all sticky and wet as you make a mess on the sheets. He can feel your pussy milking him, feel the way your thighs are trembling around his waist. 

“C’mon, honey.” You’re brushing his hair away from his face, pulling him in until he can feel each panting breath brushing against his lips. “Want your baby. Gimme another.” Fuck. Something about that little pout and the way you sound so desperate and longing get him. Nanami feels himself tensing up, arms slipping underneath your body to hold you close to his chest. A litany of rumbled groans wells up in his chest as he presses in as deep as you’ll let him, cumming hard inside you. 

He knows you feel it ’cause you make a little gasping sound, hips squirming until he presses you still against the mattress. You take it so well, sniffling and whining as you thank him for filling you up. 

“Y’know I always give you what you want, mama.” And he does because even if he’s only really acted on it today, the thought of having another baby has been on his mind for months. And you haven’t helped looking so beautiful while taking care of his babies. Of course he wants another. How could he not? He presses gentle kisses against your face; your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your lips, until you stop shivering in his arms. Even though he doesn’t want to, Nanami reaches for a pillow to prop your hips up as he pulls out. He goes real slow just to watch how you squirm at the feeling of his cock sliding against your sensitive walls. 

“You think that did it?” Nanami almost laughs at the eagerness of your tone, a doting half smile playing on his lips as his thumbs rub circles just under your navel. 

“I dunno,” he says fondly. There’d been a strategy to conceive your first two babies. Checking calendars and tracking ovulation to line everything up for the best chance, and it worked out perfectly. This time was spur of the moment. No discussion, no planning. Just a desperate need to get his wife pregnant again. To see what pretty baby you’d give him this time. It doesn’t really matter it baby number three is made tonight or any night in the future because he’s happy to fuck you into the sheets even without baby making in mind. Still, it’s sweet to know that you’re right there with him. 

Nanami sank a good chunk of his savings from his office job into buying this big house and you’re more than happy to fill it up with happy little babies with him. He kisses your belly even though there’s no way to know if it took just yet, burying his face in the softness of your tummy. Your hands are back in his hair, stroking through the sweaty mess of blonde locks with enough softness to nearly lull him to sleep. Except he knows he needs to get up, needs to clean you up and get the sheets sorted out before he can fully relax. There’s painstaking dedication to the way he takes care of you. Undoing your hair and washing your face. The smell of you clings to him after a shower. The scent of your hair and skin. Something uniquely you that overwhelms him as he pulls you into his arms. He hears you mumble something about “don’t leave,” when his arm loosens from around your shoulder just long enough to grab the book from his nightstand. 

“I’m not going anywhere, darling.” And he means it because where would he go when his world revolves around his family? He’d be lost without you and his little girls, with–hopefully–another on the way. 

[rallamajoop]

More random details from the depths of RE8

With the excuse of trying some shiny new mods, I've been replaying RE8 lately for the umpteenth time. Given the number of hours I've already poured into this game, you'd really think there'd be nothing left to find by this stage ‒ yet here I am, finding still more details I'd somehow missed the first half-dozen times through.

For one, there's the fact you can actually find Eva's grave in the graveyard outside the church. As the only photo we ever see of her shows her as a baby, I'd assumed she was still a baby when she died, but turns out, she was ten years old.

"Eva, June 1909 ‒ August 1919

May you slumber for only a short while"

As expected, her death of the Spanish flu took place in 1919. There's some semi-legible text on the stone, but it doesn't match the caption ‒ it's just the same generic filler text you'll find on half the gravestone assets in this game.

For another, there's Rose's baby monitor. I'd noticed Ethan turning the thing on when he puts her to bed, and even found the assets for its screen ‒ but since I'd never found the monitor itself, I assumed they must be unused.

Until this playthrough, when suddenly I'm just like, oh, there it is, sitting right on the table. You can even interact with it!

How did I miss this so many times? It is pretty easy to overlook, given you'll trigger the cutscene with Mia if you go much closer to the kitchen, but I'm still surprised I never spotted it before. (And you do have to wonder if there was ever any plan for it to show a glimpse of something more sinister than just a still-image of Rose sleeping.)

In other minor details, there's the bit where Ethan arrives on the outskirts of the village at 8AM. You can hear a clock striking 8 times as you get your first view of area.

Granted, this is not going to excite anyone who hasn't spent as long as I have putting together an hour-by-hour timeline of everything that happens in this game, but I still do love that they give you enough detail that that's even possible ‒ and this new timestamp fits right into that timeline. (And why yes I have just gone back and updated that post, what do you take me for?)

Speaking of assets I thought were unused, you know that hidden room under the castle you can't get into until later, where you have to solve a puzzle that involves setting a moroaica on fire? Have you ever looked closely at the tapestries decorating this place? Because I found them in the game files ages ago, and have been trying to figure out if they're actually in the game ever since.

Because seriously, look at these things!

Yes, that is a indeed a man with a sword and spear, wearing a hoplite helmet and sandals and nothing else. And the women seeing him from the front seem to be having a whole range of reactions to all that, er, weaponry being brandished their way. Isn't fine art wonderful?

Another asset I'd innocently assumed was unused is this wonderful bit of bullshit which was labeled simply 'antibow'. It wasn't until I took a long look at it that I realised what they meant was more like 'anti-B.O.W.', as in Bio-Organic-Weapon.

Yes, that is indeed a knife taped to some kind of grenade. Sure is one high-tech outfit we're working with here!

Only now do I spot that this is actually the bomb Chris chucks at the Megamycete in the cavern. It doesn't even come with the knife already attached, he just kind of sticks the knife onto the bomb and presumably straps some tape around them while the camera cuts away.

I still have so much more to share from my ongoing free-camera adventures, but I think we'll leave this one there for today.

[suchathrilltobeagirl]

From my FIRST book (!), Night and Day ...

My First Date with a guy - Part Two

It was a Friday and I spent the best part of an afternoon getting ready! I can fully appreciate why it takes women such a long time to get ready; there is so much to do!

The bath is where a lot of this took place, with me wanting to remove all traces of hair from my legs, armpits and face and redo my 'bikini line', just in case! I also wanted to smell good, so I was using perfumed body scrubs, soaps, shampoo and conditioner. After my bath, I had a cup of coffee in my bathrobe, contemplating what I needed to do next. Nails!

I spent the best part of an hour manicuring my fingernails and toenails, applying nail varnish (guys, you need to understand how tricky this is and how long it takes for that 'polished' look!). Once my nails were done, it was time to start thinking wardrobe; what to wear on the outside, what to wear on the inside (undies!), accessories, shoes. I have to tell you that my wardrobe is full of lovely clothes; dresses, skirts, jackets, tops, blouses. This was no easy task!

Harry had requested I wear a lovely embossed gold dress that he had seen me wear in some of my photos but this dress is so short and, not knowing how far I would have to walk from the car to his office, in the interests of public decency, I decided to take the gold dress with me but wear another outfit for the journey down and into his office. I decided to wear a lovely blue 'sparkly' dress which has a matching bolero jacket. Still quite a short dress but not as short as the gold one Harry wanted me to wear! The dress itself is short and has spaghetti straps which defined my choice of underwear (to include strapless bra), tights (dress too short for stockings or hold ups!) and shoes (black high heeled open-toed sandals).

Stepping into that outfit was so exciting for me; I was going to be with a man! He would see me in this outfit, I would need to do my best girly walk in 3-inch heels, keep my knees together or legs crossed, act as a woman; hopefully he would like what he saw and we would be able to interact as man and woman. This was the most amazing thought!

I applied my make up ever so carefully, I wanted to look perfect for Harry; his first impression of me had to be 'wow'! Finally, I put my wig on and spent the best part of half an hour standing and sitting in front of the mirror; looking at me from all sides, to make sure I had created the illusion of my being a woman for Harry. After four hours of preening, I was ready . . . I now had to walk to my car, get in and drive off without being noticed by my neighbours!

Standing outside my house, locking my door, I felt the cold wind blowing up my skirt and between my legs. I felt my skirt 'ruffle' in the breeze. I shivered. I shivered because I was cold, because I was scared and because I was so excited! So what if someone saw me? I was and looked every inch a woman! I walked to my car, got in and started the most amazing drive of my life.

I forgot to mention that, as I walked to my car, one of my neighbour's security lights came on! It was like a floodlight and I froze not knowing whether to head back to the safety of my house or get in my car. Unless I made it to the car, I wouldn't be with a guy that night and that was the decider!

I got in my car, started the engine and pulled out of my driveway. To this day, I don't know if any of my neighbours spotted me but, as I say, to all intents and purposes I was a girl and they may have thought nothing of it if they had? It’s funny, I was actually hoping someone would spot me, I almost wanted to be caught as then my story would be OUT to all of my neighbours and I could be more open with them, like sunbathing in the garden with my bikini on, you know the drill!

Anyway, back to the date. I had driven many times while fully dressed but never on a motorway (aka freeway) . I figured I would be all right because no one looks at anyone while they are driving; no one takes any interest in other drivers, do they? Even if that is true, if there's anything you can almost count on while driving on a motorway, it's traffic congestion. I was OK while driving along, overtaking people, switching lanes, etc. but when I had to stop in the middle lane with people in cars literally a few feet away from me on either side, I was terrified! I daren't look to my right or to my left. Even the guy in front was looking in his rear view mirror! Here I was, fully made up, with flowing locks; I wondered what he thought of what he saw. Again, like most of us girls-born-boys, I lacked confidence in the amount of time I had taken with my makeup, I wasn't sure my hair looked right. But of course it did. People around me clearly thought I was a girl and this did wonders for my confidence!

As I came off the motorway and approached the town where Harry lived, I realized that I didn't really know where I was going. My SatNav had me heading right into town. Harry had mentioned a car park not far from his office. I was thinking 'how far is not far’? Harry worked in the centre of town, how far was I going to have to walk from my car to his office? There would be people about, could I cope with that? I was panicking! On the outskirts of town, I parked for a moment to check my hair and makeup (so difficult in those visor mirrors!). I then continued my journey until the lady on my SatNav announced that I had reached my destination.

TO BE CONTINUED

Katie xxx

[soracities]

I have a whole stack of photographs from that time and I often look at them—even today—without regret, without complaint for everything that’s happened since, happy to discover some new detail in one of those pictures I know by heart and in which everything, absolutely everything, is affecting: his white shoes, my broken sandal strap (I’d been running a lot and had snagged it in a hollow in the ground one day coming back from Prahova [...]) everything is intact, recent, amicable—how can I describe it?—not like a desperate evocation of something lost, rather the leisurely, relaxed recognition of a landscape you inhabit and feel will always be yours.

Mihail Sebastian, Women (trans. Phillip Ó Ceallaigh)

[sadhours]

Wicked Sensation

part eleven // billy hargrove x reader

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen | part fourteen | part fifteen | part sixteen | part seventeen

a/n: i am sorry in advance.

word count: 6.4k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, homophobia, smut, dirty talk, rough sex, body fluids, mentions of death, cheating.

taglist(i love you all): @blue-eyed-lion @bbyhargrove @briefmongerfishzonk-blog @sweet-villain @actuallyspencerreid @trapistani

Wearing your brand new hot pink convertible strap swim suit underwear a pair of denim shorts, you grab your sandals and head into the kitchen to be greeted by your dad and brother. They’re making sandwiches for their day at the lake, fishing gear lined up by the door.

��Since when did you become such a fan of swimming?” your dad asks, packing the lunchbox on the counter.

“Since her boyfriend started working as a lifeguard,” your brother chimes.

It was true, before Billy got the job at Hawkin’s Community Pool you’d only swim when visiting your family in Florida. Now, whenever you had a day off from work when Billy didn’t, you were at the pool. He just looked so in his element there, he was a very impressive swimmer and you’d been lucky enough to catch him teaching the smaller kids lessons. Which had you imagining having a family with him one day, when before you’d been pretty dead set on never having kids.

“God forbid I want to see my boyfriend,” you roll your eyes.

Honk, Honk.

“Oh, Steve’s here,” you smile, grabbing your bag from the kitchen table and waving goodbye.

You’d asked Steve to come because you didn’t want to just sit by yourself and Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead there. Plus, Steve was trying to date and there were plenty of ladies lounging around so you knew he didn’t mind. Walking out to his BMW, you catch Neil washing his car across the seat and hope he doesn’t think something else is going on with you and Steve. He looks to you and you wave, “Going to visit Billy and bring him some lunch!”

Neil replies with a nod and continues spraying down his car. You plunge into the front seat with a sigh, Steve pulling away from the sidewalk and making the short drive to the pool.

“You gotta tell his dad what you’re doing?” Steve asks, sunglasses pushed up to the bridge of his nose.

You shake your head and check your hair in the mirror, “I just didn’t want him to think I was off cheating on his son.”

“Oh like men and women can’t be friends,” Steve counters.

“That’s what his dad thinks,” you admit and close the visor back up.

Steve finds you guys a spot, luckily where Billy’s post is in view. He looks absolutely irresistible in his tiny red shorts and they left little to the imagination. Your eye rake over his thighs and muscular chest, feeling yourself start to get wet just at the sight of him.

“You’re drooling,” Steve deadpans and you quickly lift your hand up to your mouth to find he wasn’t lying.

“Fuck,” you suck in, reaching in your bag and pulling out your pack of smokes.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve laughs, sitting up straighter, “As much as of prick he is I gotta admit, I’m impressed.”

Exhaling the needed smoke, you tilt your head at Steve, “Impressed with what?”

Steve motions to you and then to the row of housewives sprawled along the pool, “How he can do this and that to women. Meanwhile, I can’t even get a phone number.”

You eye the women, raising an eyebrow at Karen Wheeler putting herself on display for your boyfriend. You snort, “They all have a kid his age.”

“Hey, you’re basically a puddle at the sight of him too,” Steve points out.

“That’s so different, I’m only two months older than him and also I’ve actually seen what’s underneath those shorts,” you reason with a proud smirk.

Steve cringes, “Okay, gross. But still I don’t get it, is he just that hot? Am I not hot?”

You laugh, “You’re hot, Steve.”

“Oh,” Steve says likes just realizing something, “it’s because it’s an asshole.”

Rolling your eyes as you ash your cigarette, you don’t even want to justify Steve with an answer. When you see Billy starting to make his descent from his post, you stand up and push your shorts down your thighs and shove them into your bag before sitting back down, releasing the clip from your hair to let the natural waves fall around your shoulders.

You sat back down as you hear Steve mumble, “Pathetic.”

“When you’re getting laid again, I’ll consider your input,” you bite back with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Ouch,” Steve gasps but you ignore him once Billy’s stepping up to you two.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he snatches the cigarette from you and glances to Steve, “King Steve.”

“Hargrove,” Steve grumbles and turns his attention elsewhere.

You turn your sweet smile to your boyfriend, “Hi, baby. How’s your day been?”

“Yelling at kids is fun,” he shrugs, sitting on the end of the lounge. “Got a lot better when I saw you.”

You lean up to peck his lips, hoping the housewives are watching. “I brought you some lunch,” you say and grin.

Billy rubs your thigh and smiles, “I’m starving.”

He’s so handsome, you think as your eyes scan his face and linger on his button nose. His skin has taken the sun nicely, a golden tan aiding in his beauty though it’s a stark contrast against your pale tone. Billy doesn’t mind though, it shows when he grins excitedly at the red marks he’s been leaving on your ass for months.

“Me too,” you say but you don’t mean it like he does.

“My lunch is an hour,” he informs you before teasing, “Think you can behave yourself until then?”

“Yes, sir,” you say meekly.

He hands the cigarette back after leaning in to kiss you a lot hungrier this time. He’s strutting off before you can catch your breath.

“That was almost vomit inducing,” Steve complains, turning his head to you. “Yes, sir?”

You laugh, feeling the heat start to diminish between your legs. “Sorry.”

Billy’s motioning you to follow him an hour later. You turn to Steve, “Go talk to a woman for God’s sake.” before you hop to your feet to follow the red shorts you can’t take your eyes off.

As you and Billy enter the break room, he glares to his male coworkers lazing around in there.

“Get back to work,” he demands and they jump up immediately, exiting the room and Billy locks the door behind him. The sound of the lock has your breath caught in your throat and you’re eager to see what he’s planned. He grabs you roughly, picking you up and dropping you onto the table. He’s at his knees in an instant, pulling your swimsuit down to your ankles. The power he has is intoxicating. The way the boys hurried out of the room at his command brought such a intense pressure to the bottom of your stomach, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“Such a whore, you are,” he drones between your legs, pushing them apart with his head. “Wearing this hot little number, bringing Harrington with you.”

His words are laced with venom and you feel your wetness seeping out, so close to his lips you wondered if he could tell. He sloppily kisses your thigh, his broad tongue feeling so lovely on the sensitive skin.

“Huh? You like teasing me? You love pushing my buttons and making me have no other choice but to fuck you senseless while I’m at work?” his voice is so low, it’s like music to your ears.

He slaps your thigh then, “Come on, babe, I’m not talking to an empty room, am I?”

You just whimper, unable to form a single thought as you feel his breath against your soaking pussy.

“Big girl words, now,” he warns, fingers digging into your thigh.

You gasp out, “No, Billy.”

“No?” he laughs between your legs and it’s so cruel, “Not only are you a slut but you’re a liar?”

“M’not lying,” you whine, feeling as he drags his fingertips through your folds.

“Then why are you so wet?” he hums.

You rock your hips against his touch, trying to get him to get a move on with things. You’re desperate but you’ve got some dignity, you won’t make this too easy for him.

“Answer me,” he stills his fingers and holds your hips against the table.

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head, writhing against his grip.

Billy gasps, standing up and slapping you across the face. He then grabs your jaw in his hand and squeezes your cheeks together.

He sings your name lowly, “Don’t lie.”

You whimper, seeing the way he’s straining against his teensy uniform, you think he might burst through the flimsy material.

“Fine,” you huff, “I love teasing you. I love pushing your buttons.”

“Why?” he voice is firm, serious and certain. It brings a electric jolt to your pussy and you squirm under him.

Your voice is shaky as you admit, “Because I want you to fuck me.”

He seems pleased, staring at your face under thick eyelashes with a devious smirk spreading against his lips. “You were thinking about taking my cock when he drove you here, huh?”

“Billy,” you whine out, your tip toes firmly pressed into the concrete floor.

He lets go of your face, bringing his hand to your breasts and squeezing on in his thick fingers. “You were,” he chuckles, before slapping the tit that was in his hand.

“Would you just shut up and fuck me already?” you beg, ears hot when you hear the anger in your voice.

“Brat,” he insults, but he’s pulling his shorts down to his thighs and his gorgeous, thick cock springs out. The tip is red and you can see precum leaking from it. It only makes you more impatient and you bring your feet up to the table, opening up for him even more.

“Little slut,” he coos, dragging his fingers through your glistening folds. He smears your slick on the tip of his erection before drilling it into your eager hole. You cry out and his hand grabs your mouth, muffling the sound halfway. He plows into you, his hips reckless as he gives you no time to adjust to his size.

“Billy,” you moan against his hand and it only drives him more wild. Pressing his other hand on your pubic bone while he unleashes vigorous thrusts into your heat.

You’ve never in your life felt like this during sex, he was so expertly talented with making you fall apart. He knew exactly what you wanted and when you wanted. He was also selfish, taking what he needed from you. You didn’t mind feeling absolutely used during these moments because he was so blissfully sweet when necessary. He somehow knew exactly what you needed, exactly what would turn you into a mess under his touch. It was almost supernatural.

“Good girl,” he grunts, “Look at your pussy taking my cock so God damn eagerly. You just need it so fucking bad, don’t you?”

You peer between you, watching as your pussy swallows his cock. You can feel how you’re gripping it hungrily whenever he pulls his cock back. You’d throw an absolute tantrum if he pulled it all the way out.

You groan loudly against his hand, his filthy words dragging you closer to bliss. He brings his blue eyes to yours, holding his gaze intensely. You can’t look away, you knew he’d take this all away from you if he did. His fingers move down to brush against your clit before rubbing firm circles against it and you feel your eyes cross as you struggle to maintain eye contact. He seems to like that, laughing softly as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

“Look at you,” he coos, “So fucking dumb off my dick.”

The words pushed you over the edge, shaking against him while your orgasm thrashes through you. He was so overwhelmingly everything you wanted. He pulls back before giving you time to come down, pulling out of you, “On your knees.”

You obey, still feeling the waves of pleasure coursing through you while you fall to your knees on the concrete floor. Without having to be told to, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out. He makes a pathetic noise as he unloads on your face, completely missing the platform you’ve given him. You giggle as you feel him smear his cum all over your face, barely tasting his completion on his palm.

“You’re such a slut,” he breathes as he scans the room, looking for something to really clean you up with.

You keep your eyes closed, not wanting his cum to get in them. You’re relatively sure he’s wiped it from there but you don’t wanna risk it. Luckily, he throws what feels like towel on your face. You accept it, cleaning up his mess and dropping the towel, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“And all for you,” you counter, rising up and pulling your swimsuit over your sweaty body with the motion.

“I’m the luckiest fucker in the world,” he mumbles as he looks at the clock on the wall. He’s got fifteen minutes to eat the lunch you’d brought him.

As if reading his mind, you grab your bag and pull out the ziploc bag. He grins, sinking his teeth into it with a grateful look. You giggle as you rub his stomach, pulling his shorts up for him.

Billy says something but his mouth is full and you can’t understand him. You tilt your head as you watch him swallow.

“My dad wants you to come to dinner tonight,” he repeats and you nod, knowing you’ll have to have Steve take a detour at the mall. He’d seen you in the pink dress the past three dinners. It might be weird if you don’t start changing it up.

You nod and Billy offers you a bite of the sandwich. You accept, fingers grazing across his wrist while you bite it. He looks so satisfied you start to feel another wave of excitement course through you but you shove it down. He had to get back to work but you knew Billy was more than capable of a round two.

“Maybe we can go for a movie or something after,” you suggest, rubbing your hand against your boyfriends bicep as you watch him eat. The way he looks so cute miles away from the filthy words and actions falling from him just minutes before.

“Mm,” Billy hums happily as he looks up at you, “The drive-in.”

“St. Elmo’s Fire!” you squeal.

“Uh-uh,” Billy takes another bite of the sandwich, “Day of the Dead.”

You roll your eyes, knowing whatever you two saw didn’t matter because you’d end up in the back of the Camaro where neither of you would be paying attention. He finishes his sandwich and pats your bum before unlocking the door and walking out, you following him closely behind. Billy stops where you’d been lounging before his break, not caring that Steve is there as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into a heated kiss, licking into your mouth sinfully as his hands move down to grope your ass.

“See you for dinner,” he winks before getting back to work.

You hear Steve groan as you lay back on the chair, “Why don’t you two just record it and send it to every person in Hawkins?”

“Struck out, did ya?” you quip as you light up a smoke.

-

You’d bought three dresses today but the one you settle on is a simple spaghetti strap number that had a floral design resembling wallpaper. You’d styled your hair up in a ponytail, adorning your necklace with Billy’s initial for the first time in front of Neil. You’d also bought an apple crumble at the store and had transferred it to some of Mary’s Tupperware so you could pass it off as something you’d made.

Billy answers the door when you knock, leaning against its frame while he looks you up and down. “Mm, my little stepford wife looks so ravishing,” he purrs and you widen your eyes.

You know it’s gonna be a long dinner based on that, he’s gonna tease you all night. You push past him, casually saying hello to Susan in the kitchen but you don’t see any sign of her cooking. You look to Billy curiously.

“We’re going out,” he clarifies, “then after, you and I can go to the movies.”

Oh, you’d actually be seen in public like this. Which bugged you endlessly, but you look to Billy to try and rationalize why you were still upholding the charade. His smile makes you forget all about it, he laces his fingers with yours and pulls you close to him. You think he might kiss you and your cheeks flush, he was never affectionate around his dad or Susan, you didn’t think he could be.

“Who was that kid picking you up today?” Neil’s voice bellows, Billy drops your hand and steps backwards.

“Oh, that’s Steve, he’s a friend,” you say, innocently.

Neil looks at you a little intensely, making your skin crawl, “A friend?”

“He’s gay,” Billy says, a pointed look at you as a silent way to tell you to go along with it.

“And how would you know that?” Neil asks his son to which Billy replies with a scoff.

“Everyone knows it.”

You just nod, feeling your chest tighten. You hadn’t seen Neil like this before and it scared you.

“I don’t want you hanging around faggots, Billy,” he says then and Billy shrugs.

“He’s not my friend,” he looks to you and then to Susan, “Well we better start heading out if we want to make that reservation.”

The restaurant is nice, you feel underdressed and you’ve got no clue why Neil keeps looking at you. Max isn’t here which means more attention on you and Billy. Your anxiety is through the roof and you’d love nothing more than to have a glass of wine to calm your nerves. Your little lie about not drinking was really pissing you off right now. Billy seems less on edge than you, occasionally brushing his fingers against you thigh and you kick his ankle every time. Not now, you try to tell him telepathically. So either it doesn’t work or Billy likes pushing your buttons. You think the latter.

“Billy, did you buy her that necklace? I thought we talked about saving,” Neil say’s disappointedly while unfolding his napkin.

“It was my mothers,” you lie like it’s the truth, quick and without ease, “Her name was Barbara.” Another lie, her name didn’t even start with a B.

“How did she pass?” he asks.

“Neil!” Susan nudges him and you shake your head.

“No it’s okay,” no trauma, here. No, what your mother did was much worse than dying. “Car accident. She was in a coma for a few weeks but it wasn’t looking good.” You hope Neil can infer the rest.

“Oh, honey,” Susan places her hand on yours, “I’m so sorry.”

You smile awkwardly at her, “Thank you. I was just a little girl, she’d only had my brother two years before. He doesn’t remember her, much.”

That wasn’t a lie, that’s when she left and you were jealous that your brother had the luxury of not getting to know her. You feel yourself start to tear up and so you excuse yourself to the bathroom. When you walk out the door, Billy’s standing there with his hands in his pocket and he looks ashamed.

“I’m sorry, he shouldn’t ask questions like that,” he says, meekly.

You wrap your arms around him, lovingly. The thought of him being worried about you and following to make sure you were okay makes your heart swell.

“I shouldn’t lie so well,” you counter with a small laugh. Billy tightens his arms around your waist and kisses your neck.

“I know the last of that wasn’t a lie,” he whispers and you just squeeze him tighter.

You expect Neil to apologize when you get back to the table but he doesn’t. Susan keeps shooting you sympathetic glances and it’s all so ridiculous. You know Billy has the same abandonment issues with his own mother and neither of them seem to care about that. The two of you never talked about it but you think now you should. He clearly doesn’t have an outlet and you know how he feels, you can relate.

“Dessert?” the waiter offers and not one of you say yes.

You finally get to catch a breath when you get into Billy’s Camaro and let your hair down as he peels out of the parking lot.

“God, I can’t wait to get out of here,” he exhales as he flips his zippo up to light the cigarette you pull to your lips.

You giggle, “I can’t wait to see you out of here.”

“You’re a goddamn angel,” Billy says like he can’t believe it.

You lean over to kiss his cheek, feeling your heart skip a beat at the genuine compliment. He doesn’t dish them out too often but when he does you believe them. “I love you,” you confess.

“I love you, too,” he whispers, glancing at you with a slight blush to his cheeks.

Billy pays for the movie admission, parking as far away from cars as he can while still being able to see the screen well. You laugh though, asking him if it really matters.

“I actually want to see this movie, I’ll have you know,” he turns his nose up and you reach over to pinch it.

Actually watching a movie in the Camaro is difficult. You two can’t cuddle up in the front seat and you can’t see from the backseat. You can do other fun things there though. He awkwardly wraps his arms around your shoulder, the center column making it difficult to get comfortable. You turn and look at Billy, admiring his face while you hold onto the hand draped over your shoulder.

“Stop staring, you’re missing the movie,” he mumbles, his cheeks red.

You roll your eyes before turning them to the screen. But you can’t help yourself, your eyes are drawn back to his face and you start trying to count the freckles on his face. You blush when he turns his head to you, “Do I have to take you in the backseat and fuck the distraction out of you?”

Heat crawls up between your legs, his blunt and filthy words always leaving you breathless. The way he says them so confidently but so low, just meant for you.

“I mean hell, you’re so god damn needy. I already fucked your brains out once today,” he moves to grab your face, eliciting a soft whimper from your lips. Sometimes he could be so scary but it wasn’t like horror movie scary, it was like he was totally aware of the power he had over you and he knew he could do whatever the hell he pleased. And releasing yourself to such a force was incredibly terrifying but you wouldn’t change a single thing. No, Billy deserved to have control of you.

“S’not your fault you’re such a little slut, though. Can’t help but be hooked on my cock, huh?” he growls out, sliding his thumb into your mouth. You promptly wrap your lips around it and suck, dragging your tongue against the digit. “I bet you’ve already soaked through your panties. You’re a disgusting mess under that dress, aren’t you?”

You moan around his thumb, eyes wide as you gaze up at him. He pulls your dress up just enough for him to get his hand into your underwear, frowning as he feels your slick on his fingers. You suck harder on his thumb, excited at the touch.

“Fucking knew it. You’re such a filthy whore,” he purrs, leaning over to press hot, wet kisses to your neck.

You squirm at the touch, tilting your head to give him as much room as he needs. Billy slides his fingers through your folds, gathering the wetness and pulling away.

You whine but he brings his fingers to your mouth, you’re hesitant and he laughs, cruelly.

“Come on, you know you want to,” he insists.

And you do, because you know he wants you to. You shyly take his fingers in your mouth, the taste is slightly tangy but overall not bad. The satisfied, sick smirk on his face brings another wave of arousal over you.

“Get in the back, let’s makes this quick,” he says, nonchalantly.

You’re climbing over the center console before he can finish his sentence and he follows shortly after. He sits in the middle, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. He pushes them down just enough to pull his cock out, bringing his palm to your mouth. “Spit,” he demands, looking at you under his eyelashes.

You do as your told, a little embarrassed by how you still can’t manage to do it as easily as he can, trails of saliva connecting from your lips to his palm. He doesn’t care though, wrapping his fingers around his cock and stroking himself. You pull your underwear down, dropping them to the floor and hooking your leg over his thighs. He helps you, guiding his thick tip against your dripping hole. He grabs onto your shoulder and pushes you down on him, stirring a gasp from you as he bottoms out. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your chests flush together and burying your face in his neck. Billy’s arms circle around your waist, holding you tight. You do most of the work, so the whole let’s make this fast thing goes out the window. You roll your hips slowly, grabbing onto his curls as you try to get as close to him as possible. You hear him groan softly, holding onto you tighter. You’re so full of love for him you have to hold back crying, not wanting to freak him out. He pulls you back, sliding his hand up to the back of your neck as he gazes up into your eyes. You smile, rolling your hips a teensy bit faster. He caresses your cheek then.

“So beautiful,” he coos, “such a pretty girl.”

Your face flushes, grinding against him harder and faster. It’s only slightly funny to you that he can call you a whore but minutes later being so sweet and loving. It’s like he can tell exactly what you want before you give him any indication. He kisses you tenderly, rolling his hips up to meet yours and you moan against his lips. After a moment though, you feel him start to soften in you and he sighs, pulling you off of him and tucking himself back in his briefs and pulling his jeans back up.Your heart stings as you wonder what you did wrong, sitting besides him and looking at him curiously.

“Was too slow,” he mumbles, “too… I don’t know.”

“Romantic?” you whisper softly, playing with the hem of your dress.

“I guess,” he says as he crawls back into the front seat.

You feel like dirt, you feel broken so easily by him and you expect him to start his car up and drive you home. You follow him the front, staring at the sky instead of the movie.

“What did I do wrong?” you ask after a beat and he groans, shifting in his seat.

“Nothing,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

“Billy, that’s never happened before,” you try to explain, “I obviously did something wrong.”

“Can you cool it?” he bites and you sigh.

“Take me home,” you demand and he listens, turning the key in the ignition and speeding out of the parking lot in a hurry.

You don’t kiss him goodbye, just storm off into your room where you slam the door. You collapse on your bed and scream into your pillow. You might be overreacting but it hurt. You felt like he was suddenly unattracted to you. You despised how much his sexual prowess of you influenced your self esteem, that was probably the worst part. That him losing the mood could make you feel so utterly hideous.

Mary knocks on your door, “Honey? You okay?”

“Go away,” you cry out but she doesn’t listen. She opens the door and sits on the bed.

“Dinner not go so well?” she asks, reaching out to stroke your hair.

“Huh? Oh. The dinner went fine,” you mumble against your pillows.

Mary sighs, “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk to you about it,” you say.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not gonna talk about something so personal with my dads girlfriend,” you blurt out.

Mary nods, “Okay, well right now, I’m not your dads girlfriend, I’m a shoulder to cry on.”

Damn her, you think. She’s trying to be there for you in a way no one ever was and you think you’d be a fool not to take advantage of it.

“You can’t yell at me,” you say, sitting up. “I’m eighteen and I’m on birth control.”

“So it’s about sex,” she says with a soft laugh, “I won’t yell. What happened?”

You bring your arms up to hug yourself as you look at her.

“Did Billy do something you weren’t comfortable with?” she asks, her eyes suddenly worried.

“No! No… it’s the opposite.”

“You did something Billy wasn’t comfortable with?” she cocks an eyebrow.

“I guess… we were… ya know and then he just… stopped, like he couldn’t…” you try to get the words out without feeling too awkward, your face flush.

Mary laughs again and you cover your face with your hands, “Oh, god.”

“Honey, that’s normal. Happens to the best of ‘em,” she assures you but you don’t believe her.

“No. He’s eighteen, that doesn’t happen to boys his age. I obviously did something wrong,” you mumble. “Or he just suddenly realized what a hideous beast I am.”

She shakes her head, “No, I’m sure that’s not it. Sometimes things don’t align and the mood changes. I’m sure Billy doesn’t think you’re ugly.”

“He said it was too romantic,” you admit, though he didn’t exactly say it, he just agreed when you did.

“Sounds like an eighteen year old boy to me,” she laughs again. “Don’t worry too much about it. There’ll be plenty of awkward moments ahead of you. They just happen.”

She pats the top of your head and leaves your room. The talk doesn’t settle your stomach one bit, you stand up and walk to your window. You don’t see Billy’s Camaro, but you don’t remember hearing him take off. You jump when your phone rings, walking over to pick it up.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Hi, do you like Billy Idol?” Steve’s voice on the other end kind of surprises you.

You giggle, “Do you?”

“I don’t know, but somehow I got tickets to his concert,” he says.

“In Hawkins?” you ask incredulously.

“In Indianapolis. Do you wanna go?” he asks.

You smile, “Take a four hour drive with you? Sure, I’d love to.”

“Awesome, we better leave early tomorrow then, doors are at seven,” Steve tells you an you nod along even though he can’t see you.

Then he says, “We’ll probably have to get a room since it’s a long drive and all.”

You feel your stomach twist. The last sleepover you’d had with Steve didn’t go over too well with Billy. But hey, you enjoy spending time with Steve and you can’t let Billy dictate your life.

“I’ll pack an overnight bag,” you say before hanging up.

-

Billy is standing outside when Steve pulls up. He struts over and leans into Steve’s window.

“You two gonna have another pool day?” Billy asked with a raised eyebrow. He was just about to leave for work and thought it was odd you didn’t just tag along with him.

“No,” Steve counters, “I won some tickets on the radio. We’re gonna drive up to Indianapolis.”

“What? That’s like a four hour drive,” Billy says, taking note of the duffel bag in the backseat. Then you’re stepping out the door and Billy notices your backpack hanging off your shoulder.

“Oh, hell no,” he says, stiffening up. “You’re not taking my girl to Indianapolis for a night.”

You roll your eyes, tossing your backpack in the back before placing your arms on the roof of the car. Billy takes note of your outfit, the short leather skirt, the low cut shirt and how big your hair is styled.

“It’s one night. Can you cool it?” you canary, rising Billy’s blood.

“You’re a fucking joke,” Billy scoffs, looking you square in the eye. “Go ahead and take him to California.”

He starts to walk away but you call after him, “Tickets in your name, can’t change that.”

Billy waves his hand at you, “Whatever, bitch.”

“Asshole!” you yell out as he gets in his car and peels out down the street.

Your body is tense with adrenaline and you climb into the front seat, looking at Steve dumbfounded.

“Did we just breakup?” you ask, mouth agape.

Steve winces, “Kind of sounded like it. Listen, we can call off the trip…”

“No,” you sigh. “I’ll just talk to him when we get back.”

You aren’t sure what it meant. If you did breakup. It didn’t really feel like it. You two hadn’t really fought like that before but with the night before, you wondered if Billy was searching for an excuse to break up with you. He’d been cool with you hanging out with Steve since their fight. Granted, you hadn’t spent a night in a hotel room with Steve before but still.

“It’s fine, I don’t think I’ve even heard a Billy Idol song before,” Steve replies.

You reach into your purse and produce a Billy Idol cassette. Steve deflates, grabbing the cassette and putting it in the stereo before starting your journey.

-

The concert was fun. Fun you needed to have. You and Steve get drunk, thanks to your fake ID. You stumble back into the hotel room, a sixer tucked under your arm while Steve carries your purse for you. In the excitement of the night, you successfully pushed Billy Hargrove to the very back of your mind. So much so, that when Steve’s lounging on the bed and flicking through the channels, you crawl up onto his lap. You run your fingers through his hair and giggle drunkenly.

He smiles up at you, “What’re you doing?”

“Playing with Steve The Hair Harringtons famous hair,” you snicker, tousling his hair into a mess.

He laughs softly. You share a moment, gazing into each others eyes while your hands fall to his shoulders. Without thinking, Steve’s hands inch to your waist and he’s leaning up to kiss you. But he pulls back just as quick.

“I-i’m sorry, I’m drunk,” he whispers and he looks so cute and innocent and everything opposite of Billy. You hear it in your head, You’re a fucking joke. Go ahead and take him to California. Not exactly sure why it pushes you forward in the moment but you grab onto Steve’s jaw and pull his lips back to yours. It’s desperate, clash of lips and teeth before you find the right rhythm. Once you do, you feel incredibly warm and secure. He’s gentle, tentative and it feels sweet. He’s pulling you closer, like he can’t get enough while he slides his tongue past your lips. You slide your hands down his chest and he pulls back to catch a breath, smiling wide as he looks up at you.

The two of you should stop, pretend this didn’t happen. But you can’t, and either can Steve. He presses his lips to your neck and attempts to slide his fingers into your ratted hair. Your eyes flutter shut when he licks against your sensitive skin. A moan escaping your lips when he sucks a mark there. And you don’t worry about it, allowing yourself to be a slave to this moment. Steve takes an opportunity to flip you on your back, returning his lips to yours as he hands snake up into your shirt. He squeezes you over your bra and you giggle softly as your hands snake back into his hair.

He undresses you slowly, his eyes scanning over your body as he does so. He looks at you with earnest excitement and you feel your skin erupt in goosebumps. He hums happily when he sees, his fingertips tracing your curves. His eyes continue to drink you in for a moment before he’s pulling his shirt over his head and your eyes are drawn to his chest hair. You can’t help but reach out and touch it, eyes looking up at him through your eyelashes. He smiles, moving his thumb to caress your cheek and before you know it, he’s kissing you again. It’s all so sensual it feels brand new. He doesn’t grab at you with rough hands but with attentive, sincere ones. Your head swims from it, you actually feel beautiful in the moment. When you deepen the kiss, you feel Steve’s hands journey to his jeans and he attempts to unbutton them, but it seems like he’s having a hard time so you do it for him, never breaking the kiss.

Steve pulls back, getting off the bed and wandering to his duffel bag. You feel exposed so your arms move to cover up what you can. He digs through his things and retrieves a condom, striding back over to you. You swallow the lump in your throat. Why would he even bring condoms? Was he planning on this? He kicks his jeans and briefs off before crawling back between your legs.

He smiles down at you, “Is this okay? Can I keep going?”

You nod shyly, his smile helping in dissolving the worry you’d just had. He grins wider, bringing the foil packet up to his mouth and tearing it open with his teeth. He slides the condom over his member, pressing it to your entrance.

“Are you sure?” he checks in one more time and it makes you giggle, though there’s a twinge of regret already deep in your heart.

[theviridianbunny]

THE BLACK SAPPHIRE GALA - PART 1; THE BALLAD OF THE MOCKINGJAY

The night of the Black Sapphire Gala holds many stories, memories and secrets.

Victoria Crane belongs to my beloved @another-corpo-rat - thank you for trusting me with her and letting me write her with her wife and hubbie (and soon to give Viridian and Jackie the worst night of their life at this gala ) - Sprimklimg little bits of oc lore into my fics oh Lordy - one day I will give proper exposition to all my world building (when I eventually have the spoons - Ty audhd) This is not beta read and I’m currently posting this as I sit by a pool in Egypt in near 30c heat - the sunshine has spurred me on to try and write again (maybe it’s also the one rum and coke I have in the afternoons :3c)

Part two coming soon (ish) - you can also read this fic over on ao3 here ❤️

It started off as just a simple question. Victoria’s golden optics studying her partner through the pain of a large back-lit bathroom mirror. She watched as Amrin’s white and orange cybernetic hand steadily applied that last bit of makeup. The handsome mechanic was all dolled up for tonight. Ornately patterned Golden eyeliner and garnet red lipstick - she wore a backless black halter neck jumpsuit - low cut - a lace bralette underneath. Leather heeled boots made her just as tall as Victoria.

“ my darling- how did you get your burn scar? Victoria's tone was inquisitive. Trying not to pry and pick - to mine and dig on insecurities - this question was caring - and genuine.

Sadly for Victoria - it was poorly timed. Victoria noticed how her partner's body language clammed up - her red eyes avoiding Victoria’s gold for just a moment. Their eyes met through the mirror as Victoria came to her - one golden hand caressing Amrins bare shoulder - there was a moment of silence as Victoria waited for her to speak.

Amrin's lips pursed- before she spoke.

“I’d rather not discuss that - not tonight. In time- ill be happy to tell you the story- but not tonight ” Amrin’s voice was unusually stern as she put away her makeup tidy into a small hessian bag - then stashed away into a draw.

She joined Victoria , who was dressed in a sleeveless gold fronted body suit. Paired with motor oil black kick flared trousers and strapped marching black sandals. Chunky Emerald earrings adorned with golden vipers matched the buckles on the sandals.

“Darling, would you like one of my furs?” Victoria asked - gesturing to her rail of mink and animal furs - a mix of synthetic and the real thing.

Amrin shook her head “no thank you - I should be plenty warm without one, once we’re inside…’

And with that, Victoria offered her hand out to Amrin and the two made their way out of Kurt’s penthouse - entering a glass pained elevator to make their way to the ballroom of the black sapphire.

“How did you get your scar Vic?” Amrin asked - trying to throw the attention off of herself.

Victoria smirked - the golden plating over the old facial wound shone magnificently as she pulled the other woman into her - the two shared a momentary kiss - before the older woman spoke.

Her voice soft - spoken close - like the two were sharing secrets.

“Oh, You know how I got it Amrin-” a golden hand against Amrin's back - holding and tracing up and down Amrin’s spine as she continued “ You know of the incident of 75- you know of the little rabbit... word is, she's here with her dullard tonight… the two have been running around dogtown like a pair of stray puppies. “

As the lift reached the outer balcony- the two women made their way to the ballroom itself. They were under a blanket of stars , smog and light pollution.

Victoria heading to the bar - to drink and find Kurt. Amrin on the other hand made a b-line for the open-air balcony. The night was still young and the party hadn't truly started yet. Guests were still arriving. Amrin knew she was alone out there as she leant over the metal railing.

Amrin looked out onto the night city skyline and sighed to herself. Victoria’s question had stirred something within her… Amrin knew her partner had good intentions- she knew Victoria never wanted to intentionally upset her..

Amrin groaned - she thought to herself that maybe her skin was growing thin.

It had been many years since she left night city - since she left Rasmus and the trauma team. It'd been months since she'd heard from the cyberpsychosis researcher - maybe he'd finally got the hint she didn't want to be in contact as regularly anymore…

Amrin and Rasmus had history - albeit ancient now. From friends to lovers- to husband and wife and work partners - Their eventual divorce was probably one of the most difficult and messiest moments of their lives.

There were times her mind wandered back to the Sakura haired medic -mostly to the little things - the mundane things that made her world brighter. … like how she would come home to the apartment after working a night shift on the trauma team..

She’d come home - worn out and ready to have a shower and fall into bed. The apartment would be stinking of smoke and a symphony of swears could be heard, pronounced in a thick brummie accent.

Curiously would get the better of her , she would venture into the kitchen after taking off her jacket and boots - and see Rasmus plating up a synth bacon sandwich for her - the bacon would be burnt , surely it would be acrid and hard to digest..

But Amrin wouldn't care, the food was made with love and care. That's all that mattered. She'd take the plate from Rasmus and thank him - a quick peck to his cheek before she sat down and tucked into her breakfast. She'd watch as Rasmus would linger for a moment- the two sharing smiles before he would go and get ready for his day shift on the trauma team..

The days of Soft smiles and burnt synth bacon were long gone now.

Mostly all that remained were memories of the stormy night - the one that left the pair both physically and emotionally traumatised. There were only memories of the night that really felt like the beginning of the end.

The night was cold - Amrin wished she'd taken up Victoria’s offer of a fur coat. She knew there was one that would have gone just perfectly … Amrin grumbled to herself in her mother tongue and debated moving inside - but ultimately decided to stay out a little longer.

She booted up the hollo , she scrolled down to Rasmus's holo icon. A sakura blossom - entangled between dna heelexis. Her fingers dwindled and she hesitated- before taking the plunge and calling him. Her mouth going dry - she didn't know what to say- she just wanted to hear his voice…

The ringer rung out until it went to answer phone - Rasmus's familiar voice spoke with a calm - yet professional demeanour.

“This is Rasmus Sundburg - Night city trauma team research. Sorry I can't pick up your call right now. Leave a voicemail and I'll get back to you as soon as I can”

The line beeped - prompting Amrin to talk - she sighed deeply, before speaking.

“Rasmus- its me.. Sorry its been a while-” Her mind going blank “Gods- I. . Call me when you can - yeah? We need a catch up.. ”

And with that, she cut the line- before she embarrassed herself further. Face flushed. She reached into her clutch wallet- she pulled out her e - cigarette. Feeling tearful as she took a drag and then exhaled Cherry flavoured vapour.

Hot pin prick tears welling - she sniffed- looking out to the city still.

She cried - silent and alone. Amrin preferred it that way- no one to see her in such a vulnerable state.

Wiping her eyes with her free hand - she grumbled with frustration, more at herself than anything. Her makeup was sure to be smudged by her tears…

Trying to compose herself now- Amrin prepared her to mingle. To be social. To please and be merry - even though all she wanted to do was return to her bed - get into her pyjamas and sleep. She didn't want to be human or socialise - running on empty and burnt out now. The day leading up to this gala had already been hard on her…

As Amrin tried to get herself to breathe - She felt the metal of a cybernetic hand touch the small of her back - Amrin knew that touch from anywhere.

Kurt had joined her now. She was no longer alone.

Dressed down on such an evening. Black tshirt tucked into slate grey cargos. Combat boots polished with new laces.

“What are you doing out here on your own?” His voice stern , but also laced with concert.

“I could ask you the same thing- thought Victoria would be all over you by now” she jerked back at him. Amrin didn't mean for her words to come out as sharp as they had.

Amrin heard how Kurt laughed - how he smiled softly all be it for a moment.

“Oh shes already demanded her quota of kisses - but she made an off comment about you - thought she might have hit a nerve”

Hansen watched as his lover furrowed her eyebrows and took another drag of her e-ciggarette. Blowing out the smoke - she stuffed the cigarette back into her purse.

“I'll take that as a yes-”

Amrin pursed her lips - before speaking.

“ I'm trying to be brave . To talk about the pain- the suffering- the past. But it takes time… I’m just not ready to open up to her Kurt..”

“I know , my dear” his words genuine- soft. Offering out a big cybernetic arm to the mechanic.

“Join me inside? The night is still young- I can direct you to a quiet corner where you won’t be disturbed” a small chuckle arose before he next spoke “and my darling - if any of our guests dares disturb you - know they will feel my wrath and all of dogtown’s too”

He watched how his lover smiled - all be it for a moment - as he took his arm and leant into him. A casual act of intimacy Amrin never thought she would feel again. She stayed close to him for a moment - feeling his warmth against the coldness of the night.

“Ready to go inside?” He asked

Amrin’s reply came as a silent nod.

And so, Kurt lead his dear mechanic inside. Taking her to one of the many bars - where a masculine chromed up bartender was serving a woman in a very expensive dress. Silver hands poured what looked to be an espresso martini, as he wished the woman a good night.

The bartender turned to the colonel and his mechanic.

“What can I get you both tonight?” He asked - instinctively reaching to the scotch for the colonel.

“The usual for me ” Kurt’s gaze travelled to Amrin.

She was still thinking - but then very softly spoke her order.

“A Bloody Mary please - with extra black pepper and spice”

Her social battery just wasn’t there tonight - Kurt could tell as Amrin leant into him.

As the bartender quickly got to work making drinks - Amrin reached into her purse - pulling out a pair of tiny golden plates earbuds - slotting the left one into her ear.

To her surprise - holo rang out quietly.

INCOMING CALL - RASMUS SUNDBURG.

Amrin quickly rejected the incoming call - now wasn’t a good time. She had a Bloody Mary to drink and a social battery to try and recharge.

She quickly messaged her ex husband - frantically typing

“call you back soon. At a corporate engagement” - this was a partial lie. Yes she was at a corporate engagement - no she did not intend to call Rasmus back anytime soon.

She probably would in time - but not tonight.

The mood began to lift as the bartender handed Amrin her Bloody Mary - Kurt his scotch. Amrin letting go of Kurt’s arm to grab her Bloody Mary. She took a sip - it was definitely spicy enough.

The two moved away from the bar.

Kurt took a mouthful of his beverage before he gestured towards the roulette tables.

“There’s a quiet nook on the right side of the roulette tables - a few comfy sofas with cushions.” He placed his hand over Amrin’s back as a sign of comfort “ You can spend as much time as you’d like there - and also know there’s no pressure to stay, you’ve got a key to the penthouse- you can go and make yourself comfy up there if that would be easier on your mind” Kurt’s tone was reassuring.

“Thank you,Kurt. I think I will be fine down here.”

Amrin’s gaze travelled to the red haired twins at one of roulette tables. Feeling the mischievous energy of the woman in yellow.

“The two redheads won’t cause me trouble - right ?” She asked - debating putting her second ear bud in.

She heard how Kurt laughed.

“Oh, the netrunner twins?” He asked

“Yes, them. The woman gives me uneasy vibes”

“Aymeric” he gestured to the man in blue “and Aurore” the woman in yellow “they will not cause trouble - I promise you.” Kurt reassured his lover.

He took her cybernetic hand and kissed the back of it - before he continued

“If for whatever ungodly reason they decide to give you trouble or grief - or even look at you the wrong way - you are to send me a message on the hollo - I will send Victoria down to give them a bollocking- or I will do it myself.” - there was a slightly comedic tone to his voice.

He placed another kiss on her hand- for luck.

“Does that sound fair Amrin?” He asked. Seeing how she smiled felt like his evening had been made already

“It sounds great” she replied - taking the other ear bud from its case - placing it into her ear - the world around her went blissfully quiet.

The two shared a kiss before they parted ways. She waved to Kurt before she turned and walked away.

As Amrin made her way to the roulette tables - she passed a woman with short teal hair and skull implanted kiroshis. An Arasaka cyber arm partially visible through the mesh sleeves of her blouse. High waisted trousers and blocked heel boots made her appear tatter than she actually was.

The handsome mechanic watched from afar as the woman ordered a very blue looking cocktail and thanked the bartender - she watched as the woman wandered across the ballroom to a very tall and broad man - dressed in a sharp suit. Golden cross earrings dangled from his ear lobes and delicate cable cyberware mapped out his face. Dark hair shaved short at the back and sides - with a top knot tied with a wine red hairband.

Amrin watched as the man bent down to kiss the woman on the cheek, before she made her way to the quiet spot Kurt recommended. As she passed the netrunner twins and found her self a comfy quiet spot - She booted up her holo. Taking a large gulp of her Bloody Mary before texting Victoria.

“I think I’ve spotted your rabbit-”

[dualdeixis]

[Image description: Digital drawings featuring a variety of characters from Octopath Traveler. There are full descriptions of all images under the cut. End image description.]

you know what? octopath is the only game i’ve ever played that accurately depicts what happens when you eat an olive. thank you octopath

[Image description: First is a drawing of Primrose, Ophilia, Kit, and Lyblac, with certain aspects of their designs altered. Primrose steps forward in a beguiling pose. She wears a red dress with a short, layered front and a long, flowing back. She wears gold jewelry including three rings on her right hand, a headband with a flower adornment, and a belt around her waist. Her knife is strapped to her right thigh and she wears medieval women's knee-high hose, black with red garters, beneath her sandals. A note next to her reads, "Elements taken from 15th century Italian illustration of dancers." Ophilia holds up her staff. A long lace veil covers her head and is tied beneath her chin. She wears a brooch on the left side of her cloak. The notes next to her read, "Mourning veil worn for varying lengths of time depending on relation (parent = 1 year). Mourning brooch of braided hair worn indefinitely by choice." Kit's design is much the same. He looks with slight wonder over at Lyblac, who stands tall with her hands clasped and a blood red halo around her head. She wears a black escoffion and a black and red houppelande with dagged sleeves.

Second is a drawing of Mattias, Esmeralda, and Lianna, with certain aspects of their designs altered. A note above Mattias and Esmeralda reads, "Obsidian fashion is ahead of the times (entirely because I mistook Mattias's sprite as having a ruff)." Along with the ruffs around his neck and wrists, Mattias wears a yellow doublet, orange jerkin, a gold necklace with a red jewel pendant, black paned trunkhose, a blue cape with a pattern of yellow stars, and a black cap with a blue feather. He has a confident expression, with one hand on his hip and the other splayed outwards. The note next to him reads, "If he's posing as a merchant he needs a stupid little hat and plume." Esmeralda holds up a black dagger in one hand and clenches the other into a fist with an irritated expression. She wears a French hood, a black gown with slashed sleeves, and gold jewelry around her neck and waist. The gown's skirt is full on the left side, layered and translucent in the middle, and has a slit on the right side to show the crow tattoo on her thigh. The note next to it reads, "Put it back." Then it points to Mattias's left leg and says, "He has it too." Lianna has a neutral expression as she holds up Aelfric's Lanthorn with a dark flame burning within. She wears the robes of a vestal of Galdera. The note next to her reads, "Love how he made her a special little anti-cleric outfit (takes off mourning veil)."

Third is a drawing of Alfyn smiling in profile, showing off his messy, dirty blonde hair with the sides shaved. To the right is a bouquet of seven white lilies. The text above them reads (in all caps), "Donio sam ja sedam ljiljana / Majko da li znaš još sam sam / Majko da li znaš još sam sam / Spava malena slatka glavica / Majko pokrila mi je travica / Majko pokrila mi je travica."

Fourth is a collection of doodles. 1. Lyblac and Kit stand in front of the Gate of Finis. Kit asks, "what are u trying to say." Lyblac points to the Gate with a smile and says, "go here." Kit asks, "in the dark ?" Lyblac says, "go in the dark." 2. Galdera says, "AND I'M BAD!" The souls around the Omniscient Eye say, "MEAN!! GREEN!! BAD!!" 3. To the left, Therion holds up a pair of rivet spectacles to his eye. To the right, he wears a paisley-patterned headscarf and a chador over it with a small smile. The text reads, "His chador swag. Based on an outfit my friend saw me wearing in a dream cuz I thought he'd look cute in it." 4. Two anthropomorphic birds wear cloaks and hold up staves. The first one has a neutral expression and the second looks more aggressive. The text reads, "My brother mistook Believer I + II in Seaside Grotto for bird people and now I wish they really were bird people." 5. A screenshot of a post by user tlirsgender: "Consider: a gay dude and a lesbian who are BEST friends and also dating the same person but not each other because they are a gay dude and a lesbian but their mutual partner has a weird enough gender for it to work. Polycule that’s lgbt like all at once." Beneath it, Alfyn and Primrose happily shake hands while Therion stands in the background with a neutral expression. The note next to them reads, "This concept is so funny to me that it kinda loops around to being compelling." 6. Cyrus smiles and quirks one eyebrow while pointing upwards. The text reads, "LOVE IS IN THE AIR? / WRONG! LIGHTNING BLAST." 7. Primrose leans back on a counter and Therion sits on a stool with his hands clasped. Both look miserable and share a thought bubble which says, "I'm the only bitch here who's incapable of love and sincerity." They glance at each other curiously, and then return to being miserable and sharing a thought bubble which says, "Nah I'm way more sick and twisted than you."

Last is a comic. In the midst of a battle, Ophilia holds up her staff and does 719 damage; Cyrus holds up a tome and does one hit of 1284 damage and another of 1365 damage; and Alfyn holds up his axe and does 649 damage. One enemy remains: a Creeping Treant with one shield and vulnerabilities to axe and fire. In the foreground, Therion says, "Alright..." He prepares a full-boosted Wildfire and says, "Time to end this." Cyrus shuts his tome and says blithely, "I think not. You shall do exactly 2 damage." Ophilia holds a hand over her mouth and blushes, saying, "Oh my, is the Professor teasing?" Alfyn laughs, "Pff, c'mon now, Therion knows what he's doin'!" Therion uses Wildfire on the Treant and breaks it, doing 2 damage. Therion, Alfyn, and Ophilia stand lined up and look very startled, while Cyrus smiles mildly and thinks, "Oh wow, for real? I literally just said that for no reason." The note beneath the comic reads, "*Based on a true story where I was Therion and my brother was Cyrus. I laughed so hard I cried." End image description.]

[nakimesbiwa]

Housekeeper! Short! Fem! Reader + Yandere! Hashiras

This is just a draft!

(So pls be nice because this isn't a rush i just want to go straight to the point!! And I'm also rusty.. So that's why it's Boring 🤬🤬🤬)

You were just a normal girl in a village before hearing about the "Demon Slayer Corps." You didnt believe it was real or demon were. You never seen them, but it was always fear by many— she seem to dance around the option of finding out for herself to see if it was real.

In the starry glaze of nighttime, her two sisters named Yuno and Ariri, along with her single mother called Junko— were sleeping steady but peacefully on their futon bed as the night poured down on them. The most youngest sibling of all, you wete fully awake reading a brand new novel which you got from the outside library in the ealier evening. Flipping through the pages with yoir untouched finger tips. As she reachee page one hundred forty five, theres a specific word or two on page one hundred forty six that catchs her eye.

"Swordsmanship"

"Demon"

Her eyes widen buy go back again as she presses her finger on the textire of the book. Urging to resd the word over, over, and over again.

"This is a novel, right? Ite fiction.. Isn't it?"

She ponders in her head, god why was she suddenly getting worked up at these two words that meant nothing to her unknown to her; and now it caught her eye like candy. She places her left hand on page one hundred forty six to save where she was and turned the book to first page.

"Informational text"

Was one of the words spread out into three rows. "Informational" did this mean that all of this were facts? That was just arrogant already, dumb already to think that demons didn't exist? This was a shocker only to her.

"Hmm.."

She hums lightly as she pushes the tilte back down and keeps reading page one hundred forty six hiding fourteen paragraphs and nineteen thousands words, not counted just a conclusion. As she reaches the 5th paragraph she goes across a word.

"Sword"

"Breathing"

"Styles"

Her eyes widen again softly as she mutters "Breathing styles?" With a curious and clueless tone of voice.

"What the hell are breathing styles? A different type of way you breath? In your nose? SWORDS?" She thought.

She was questioning everything. "Demons" were real was another thing but "Breathing styles" and "Swords" were another thing. She seemed over-simulated by it all. Her slow brain couldnt process it as her fingertips go other "Breathing styles" were also bold. Like it was important for some off reason.

From that day on, that inspired you— yes the book did inspire you to learn more about "Breathing styles" "Swords" and also this random "Demon Slayer corps" thisboath left her with a job she never seen. One that she wouldn't expect.

"Here's your Demon slayer Uniform!"

As a woman gave your Uniform. It was a strandard black Demon slayer Uniform, with a upper knee skirt; sliver buttons. She had  white tabi socks that reach to knee high. She wears black zōri sandals with white straps for footwear. The sleeves looked a bit oversized. And with a other piece, was a ruffled edge white apron.

The women bows down with a smile.

"I hope you in joy your time as a—

Housekeeper."

She bowed down as the woman put her head up as the same time as you. She turned around as she walked away. You were left alone with this job now. You were new and you have to uncover the roots on your own now. You turn around and walk away to the mansion you were going to. It was the "Hashira share House mansion."

A "Hashira share House mansion" is where any of the Hashira can stay at, at anytike they can. With thirteen room they can stay in. Its like a hotel. For example if your estate is far away, you can spot this Mansion and stay in it for awhile until you feel the need to go back to yout Mansion. Some Hashira's stay there just to hang out. But two "stay" and "hangout" are slightly same ideas.

You were walking down the path which the respectful woman told you to go. Down towards Shizuku path—

"And once you hit a tree thats bigger than me, and the birds say lets turn right to find out the fate of the day, drop down a hill

Don't ponder around be warned of tye monsters flying around. And say place in haven stands bug and tall were the monsters cant get you at all.

Lets say you enter that place, its your home."

She turned the directions into a soft melody of a poem. It did get you confused at first so you told to say it "traditional way".

But still you followed her words, hitting the tree that was bigger and taller then her. But she pondered what was the " monster" that she should be weary of. It was daytime; no demons in sight, yet. So why—

She suddenly heard a soft movement of a tree that was four meters away from the tall bruttle tree. Even though her mental mind told her "no" tye curious tamed in her said "yes" she cautiously walked towards the tree. Trying to make her footsteps sikent as possible as she got closer and closer.

She was in front of the tree, now leaning her body to the right— and to her surprise she saw.. No one? She let out a deep sight of relief and disappointed as she leaned back.

"Hey." A indifferent, and bored voice said behind her. Making her freeze slightly as the voice echoes in her head.

"Huh—" she turned around. It was a boy definitely. And a Hashira due to tye golden button. And slightly or mostly taller than her.

"I notice... You."

[astrocassette]

put together outfit and team refs for my trainersona milo!! (they/them) i am very excited for art fight :]

notes under the cut

pokemon team

ettie ♀ - milo's first pokemon, met as a woobat the night milo got isekai-ed! trainerless but taken to a pokemon center for mild injuries, she managed to escape containment and stick herself to milo's cheek, and has been with them ever since. she's goofy and sweet. she's also a service pokemon, using calm mind to help milo with their anxiety.

julian ♀ - originally caught as a venipede in a subway tunnel by ingo helping the interpol survey the line milo dimension-hopped on. he gave her to them a few months later so they'd have a slightly stronger pokemon to look after them while training ettie. she's now milo's ace, and their main form of transportation in hisui.

peridot ○ - caught in a visit to celestial tower! a gaggle of elgyem started following milo, fascinated by their non-native psychic vibes. peridot was the boldest, and came with them after a friendly battle. it's incredibly curious about human objects + technology and will frequently pick things up to examine with them with the utmost care

dewdrop ♂ - fished up during milo's time in hoenn! he's a spunky creature, very personable, and the most enthusiastic battler on milo's team. has never quite gotten the hang of using healing moves.

outfits

isekai - their usual winter gear from earth, what they were wearing when they got isekai-ed. their giant thrifted ski jacket from the 90s is exceptionally warm. you can only see the straps, but they had their backpack on them as well! earthly belongings that came with them include several class notebooks, a tarot deck and journal, a box set of their favorite horror ttrpg, a deck of cards, their phone, headphones, and a phone charger. they were on their way back from visiting friends when they got eeby deebied to the pokemon world.

casual - an average outfit they end up with while in the process of settling in! they wear this and similar outfits in their everyday life, going to their galarian language lessons and to work in the quilt shop in nimbasa. the grey tank is band merch from a hard rock/metal band called Destiny Bond that elesa introduces them to. :]

events - when they're going out somewhere and want to Look Good, milo goes full 70s twink! nothing like some good fruity androgyny. they are incredibly glad historical fashion trends of the pokemon world mirror earth's.

hisui - the first few months in hisui they spend in the couple sets of plainclothes they brought with them from the future, but once they get to jubilife, milo does a LOT of trading to acquire various outfits from the clothier's! they favor women's hakama and geta sandals when in town. their original glasses from earth get lost early on in an incident with a flock of staravia, so they go a few months without until they're able to get new ones.

[fiikaela]

By the Blades We Meet

Ganondorf brainrot that was inspired by this prompt below. I accidentally wrote two chapters for this while procrastinating on chemistry and figured why not post it. so here's my take on the op's awesome idea

--

Chapter one

The man slumped onto the sand-strewn floor beneath your sandaled feet, all of his previous baffles and threats gone. You huffed a cool laughter, brushing off the dust that got onto your new desert set. As embarrassing as the clothes were, they weren't actually restrictive of your movements.

"T- Thank you." A small voice mumbled behind you, right, it was the Hylian girl this man tried to harass. The sound of her quiet voice snapped you back from your disappointment at the guy's lack of a good fight. He had strength, but only strength. You turned back to the girl and gave her a small smile.

"No problem."

Before she could say anything else or blabber more nonsense, you strapped your hat back on, and continued the road to Gerudo Town. You heard something about paying back from the girl, but you don't really care. Right now, you just want to find someone who can provide a fun fight with you. And it was said that the Gerudo were a race consisting entirely of women, and they were all raised as formidable warriors.

Life gets boring, it gets boring quick. Kakariko was a peaceful, quiet village. Entirely opposite of what you wanted. The martial arts that were supposed to be passed down for generations have faded, the usual masters at them have grown weak with time. You wanted excitement, wanted the power it feels to see hundreds of monsters crumbling at your feel, the thrill it feels to push your katana against a mighty opponent. You don't have to win, no, you don't want to win. You are tired to winning.

You just wanted a good fight.

One by one. Your challengers had all bowed in defeat. You skill grew exponentially with each passing fight, the fun it had to be defeated by someone when you were but a teenager had gone, as you had even passed the test provided by Impa's personal protectors. They had asked you stay and serve the people, telling you a promising future by serving the royal family. But that's not what you want.

You are the untamed wind that soars in the sky, the wild beast that chases the moon.

And all you want was to find someone who can beat you in battle.

The desert wind blew, as you found yourself at the entrance of the town. It was an oasis in the midst of the golden sand that stretched beyond the horizon. You looked up at the tall, brooding women guarding the the gates, their body shone with power and strength under the harsh sunlight. You were considered tall for a Sheikah, but you still feel dwarfed by their appearance. One of the women peeked down at you, her fiery eyebrow rising slightly. She eyed the guard next to her, and they moved the spears apart, opening the entrance.

You nodded, deciding that asking the guards for a fight may as well make you an unwelcomed guest in the town.

You paced slowly, taking in the unfamiliar layout into a map insider of your head. You wished you had a Sheikah slate with you, but that technology had been forgotten over time. There were shops, trinkets, and loud chattering. A group of laughing children ran past you, giggling as they swung their tiny, wooden weapons at each other. It was truly a town made for warriors, and you wondered why you didn't find it sooner.

You let your hand brush lightly against the sheathed katana, a habit you had developed ever since the childhood incidence where your weapon was stolen by a random Yiga member during a fight. It was quite stupid, and something that you feel ashamed of to recall.

Your ears perked up, having adjusted to the noise volume to catch on to the distant, faint sound of clattering. It sounded like weapon hitting against a each other, a noise that had your heart racing. Maybe there's a training session going on? You followed the sound, waving away the enthusiastic shopkeeper who called you over to look at her products. You turned right into a quiet valley, right over a bar that burst with laughter and clinking of glass. Over to a wall where the noises grew louder.

It was definitely weapons clattering, you can even hear the occasional grunt when a harder hit lands on what you presumed to be a shield. It sounded like fun, so you ran over to the open archway, and peered from the side.

A simple, open arena opened in front of you. Everyone in it wore the same armor as the two guards outside, their red mane of a hair tied into tall ponytails and buns. All of them were split into pairs, each pair holding on to either a spear, or a scimitar paired with a shield. Shouts and sweat filled the open arena. You scanned the place, noticing a few ones singled out on the side who practiced with a dummy, and the two people looking like their commanders standing on the top of a small stairway that raised off the ground.

One of them looked suspiciously like a man, towering even over the tall woman next to him. His arms were folded against his chest, and his attire unique from anyone you had seen. He wore a serious, yet intrigued expression on his face as he watched the training session. Nothing special other than the curious headpiece that hung on his forehead. You turned your attention back onto the fight, too bored to pay attention to the two spectators.

The Gerudo had a unique style of fighting. One that allowed them to make it look graceful even with the heavy weapons they wielded. But still, a quite simplistic one that you have confidence of winning against, even without a shield. You never liked those things anyways, as katana was the go-to weapon: light, fast, efficient, clean. Some Shiekah sorcery was also fun, but you need more digging and practicing on those to avoid the occasional failures they have. You only learnt them from watching the Yiga and the Shiekah doing it, so that explains why it is flawed when you try it.

A hind of boredom snuck their way into you, by now, you have grasped the basics of their movements. You supposed that the Gerudo would be more difficult to fight than any of the other races, but it still didn't seem enough. But at least they have the spirit to train their people, unlike the others who just gave up on it.

Something perked your attention, like a sudden ice cold water that was dumped onto your head. Your gaze snapped up, and was met with the piercing eyes of the odd man on the platform. He motioned toward the woman, who gave him a frown before snapping her eyes to you. You looked back into their hard gaze unflinchingly, and again turned back to the training, deciding to ignore them even as you felt their gaze drilling a hole through you.

The session seems to be approaching the end, as several women began to falter slightly in their movements, the one on top of the platform had raised her hand, giving a clear order to take a break. The fight ceased, the trainees scattered across the arena for a rest, sweat beaming on their sun-kissed, dark skin. It was beautiful, you wondered if you could join.

You stepped in, feeling their gazes as you crossed the weapons and walked slowly, but purposefully to the two commanders, who's eyes were both on you. Several resting trainees stood up, their hand holding tight on their weapons.

"State your purpose before you come any closer." What you assumed to be the woman commander spoke, her voice loud and forceful.

The man next to her sighed, "calm, it is not as if I cannot defend myself."

Ok, it's definitely a man then. He had a deep, pleasant voice that would make anything he says to sound enjoyable. You peered over curiously, it seems that he holds a high social status here.

You raised both of your hands as a show of your compliance. "I mean no harm to anyone, but the training have deeply intrigued me, and I wonder if I could join them as a challenge." You spoke carefully, fighting a lot of angry warrior women at once sounds fun, but it's not exactly what you want at the moment.

"Join us?" The commander said with a huff of bewilderment, "a Hylian like you cannot withstand our vigorous training." She shook her head, her tone prideful as she stared you down. You felt a smile pull at your lips.

"First of all, I am a Sheikah." You stated, your hands are still raised, but a casual smile had snuck onto your face, you noticed the man next to her turning his gaze on you, but you ignored it. He was probably just some dumb patron anyways. "But what if I bested all of you in a one to one, or all to one, combat?"

Silence fell around them, the woman burst into laughter and the man holding a bemused grin on his face.

"Sheikah, don't bite off more than what you can handle." He spoke directly to you for the first time, he was grinning in almost a menacing way, but his eyes were searchful as they bored into you. "If you get badly injured, it is not within our responsibility to help."

"Your majesty!" The commander next to him glared, "you can't be seriously considering this… foolish request from that Hylian?"

"Why not?" He looked over at her, his face full of confidence, "once our sisters are well-rested, they can surely challenge the Shiekah as they like. I've heard that the Shiekah tribe masters in secret martial art, wouldn't it be a good opportunity to see what the fearsome servant of the royal family have in stock for us, right?"

You clicked your tongue in annoyance, but deciding against telling them off from seeing you as a mere servant of others. You save all, you serve none. But does it matter to a sheep on the knife's edge?

The Gerudo women nodded, their wary eyes scanning over your body, sizing you up. So this man is apparently, a king, if not a prince, to this tribe. You vaguely recall some history book saying this phenomenon of a man every once a century, but you had assumed it to be just a fancible lie told by the king every generation to showcase his "uniqueness" to the outside. The commander gave you a death glare.

"Well then. You've heard the king, don't go easy on the Hylian." She turned, obviously angry. The man burst into a hearty laugh, putting a giant hand on her shoulder.

"Let's get started when anyone feels ready. Keep it at one on one for now."

--

i hope you enjoyed this short take (if anyone was going to read it)!! and we acc get to duel ganon in the next chapt :,)

i dont think this is going to follow any zelda timeline, could end up be a mashed together one from botw+totk. i havent finished totk yet

ps. ik the op updated their prompt, but since this one was written some day ago im going to keep it like this. Might add changes later but idk

Chapter two

[amaretigris]

The Sea Witch's Curse

Taglist: @notagreekgal28 @luna2034 @hopeisrising @justagirlthatlovedtoread @mylittlemermaid221

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Ch. 2 | 1.8k words | Angst & fluff

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅

Stepping onto the warm sand, you let your toes dig into the grains. The texture amazed you. Kicking it about, you smiled.

"Whoa," Eric piped from behind you.

He walked up to your side on the beach.

"Watch out there, you don't want sand to blow back in your eyes," he looked at you with one eye closed.

The sun was as bright and scorching as ever.

"Here," Eric said before handing you a bag.

You took it in your hands, examining it. Eric watched you curiously.

"It's a satchel," he spoke.

You looked back at him with wide eyes and an open smile. Eric smiled in return.

"You can get whatever you like from the village, and store it in here. Just be sure to put it over your head so you don't lose it," he instructed before walking ahead.

You trailed behind him, still playing and kicking in the sand. Spotting some seashells, you gasped, threw the satchel strap over your head, and quickly bent down to pick as many up as you could. You would need these later. You were trying to pile them in your arms before you realized Eric had just given you an item for this. You felt a soft smile come to your lips while your spare hand lifted up the flap of the bag.

Dumping the shells in your arms inside, you looked up to see Eric's form standing at the edge of the beach. He watched you patiently. You rose to your feet, embarrassed that he'd seen what you were doing. You walked towards him, struggling as you neared the edge of the sand. It was getting incredibly rocky and rough on your feet.

Before you'd left the ship, Eric had asked if you wanted shoes to wear. You had shaken your head, excited to feel the different textures with your new feet. You were now regretting that decision. You'd have cuts on them by the end of the night.

By the time you reached Eric and looked up at him, he met your eyes with a knowing look.

"Did you look in the bag?"

You pinched your brow and looked at him incredulously before you pulled the flap to the satchel back open. Inside, under the shells and sand you'd haphazardly thrown in, was a pair of sandals.

You whipped your head up to look at Eric, your mouth agape. He'd packed shoes for you, even though you told him you didn't want them. Eric smiled.

"I knew you'd need them. Put them on so that we can catch up with the rest of the crew."

Looking back at the shoes and lifting them from the satchel, you observed them carefully. There were so many straps. How could you possibly...

Eric gently took the sandals from your hands. Bending down in front of you, eyes on yours, he reached his hand to your ankle, but stopped just short of it. He was showing you what he was doing. He was communicating.

Nodding with a smile, you watched Eric's eyes cast down to your feet, where he effortlessly worked the sandals on. His grip was soft on your ankles. Standing with another quick glance to you, Eric extended his arm. You took a step forward, and he joined in beside you. The two of you walked into the village. The screaming and music got louder as you approached it. Your eyes were saucers, taking in all of the new information. You'd never experienced anything like this before.

Stalls lined both sides of the path, with humans at each one, showing off what they brought to sell. You saw children running through the crowd, filling the air with their laughter. You saw men and women conversing with one another at the stalls. An old man to your left broke out in laughter, and you jumped at the noise, but smiled all the same. Whipping your head around at a sudden crash, you saw one of the children that had been running through the market now on the ground. He was crying and holding his bleeding knee. Rushing over to the young boy, you kneeled in front of him. He almost stopped crying to examine you.

You let out a soft shhh noise and smiled at the boy, humming a soothing melody. When he started to relax, you reached into your satchel, and pulled out a beautiful shell you'd picked from the shore only minutes ago. You handed it to him, watching him flip it over in his palm. He looked at you and smiled, his teary eyes subsiding. You smiled back, ending the melody, and helping the boy up.

He winced slightly while standing on his knee, but his friends grabbed his hands, and pulled him off through the market again. The boy briefly released their grasp to wave at you, shell still tucked in his palm. You waved back with a smile. That was the good thing about siren songs. You could put different emotions behind them: soothing, coaxing, you name it.

Turning back around, you were stunned to find Eric standing right on your heels. You held your hands up, instinctively trying to steady yourself. They landed on his chest. Eric briefly glanced down at them, before meeting your eyes.

"What was that you hummed to the boy?"

He eyed you suspiciously.

Shit.

Your face flushed and you shrugged your shoulders.

"A lullaby?"

Eric gave you an out. You took it, nodding your head.

"It seemed to calm him. Whatever it was," Eric quirked a brow at you.

You gulped, feeling like he already knew your secret. Instead of pushing the issue further, Eric simply grabbed one of your hands and turned, continuing down the path through the market.

"Stay with me now," he whispered to you, keeping his eyes forward.

"This can be a dangerous place we're going to. I don't want you to run off and get yourself hurt."

Gulping again, you strode alongside Eric, trying to keep up. You were getting much better at this walking thing, but he had longer legs than you.

Stepping into a shady building, you held Eric's hand tight. He was right. Looking around, you spotted nothing but weapons on the walls. Swords and guns, if you had to guess, from the stories you've heard. You even swore you saw a swordfish tail, incorrectly labeled Mermaid Tail, with a price tag on the wall. You looked at Eric, slightly panicked. His face remained stoic and straight ahead. The bubbling of laughter in the air made your skin crawl.

"Eric," the man hissed, "how nice to see you again. Ah, and you've brought a friend this time."

You felt Eric's grip on your hand tighten slightly.

"That's not important. I'm here to do business," he curtly replied.

You could hear the man stalking around the room, from one side to the other, until he finally became visible in your peripheral. Jumping with a small gasp, your other hand clutched onto Eric.

"What a pretty thing you've got here, Prince," the man cooed.

At this, Eric looked him in the eye.

"As I said, not important, and not your business. This," he held up the bag he had carried from the ship, "is your business."

The man slithered over to Eric's side and you breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yes, well, is it the usual haul?"

The man questioned.

"Better."

Eric held his gaze.

"Better? We'll see about that," the man yanked the bag from Eric's hands.

Eric let him.

The man threw the bag on the counter and unzipped it, rummaging through the contents. You saw jade trinkets and pearls in the mix.

"Ah, got the loot from a Corsican haul? Very nice," the man purred.

After another beat of silence, save for the man rummaging through the treasure, Eric spoke again.

"How much?"

The man stilled before passing a sweeping gaze over the pieces before him again.

"Thirty," he quipped.

You saw Eric's face grow red, and he puffed his chest out.

"Thirty? Last time you gave me fifty for this kind of booty."

The man quickly turned, glaring at Eric.

"You know how it goes, the economy," he shrugged.

"It's a fickle thing. Prices rise, prices fall. It happens all the time. You're welcome to take this elsewhere, but I always offer the best price," he sneered.

You saw Eric's eyebrow twitch. You could slice the tension in the room with a piece of coral.

But, in a split second, Eric's face grew impassive once again. Resigned.

"Fine. Thirty."

The man let out a hearty laugh. Turning back to dump the treasure into a basket, the man counted out thirty gold pieces, and loaded up Eric's bag once again.

He turned and threw the bag at Eric's chest. Eric quickly released your hand, catching it with ease.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Prince."

Eric rolled his eyes and threw the bag over his shoulder. Grabbing your hand again, he turned to leave.

"Fuck off, Jetsam."

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅

After leaving that stifling building, Eric handed the bag of gold to one of his crewmen to take back to the ship. Watching the man's departure, the two of you stood there for a moment, still joined at the hands.

You looked over at Eric in wonder. What did he need the gold for?

Eric met your eyes, and you saw him take a sharp breath. Your eyes darted down to his lips. What did that mean?

Eric studied you briefly, then cast his gaze down to your joined hands.

"Do you want me to let go? You should be safe now."

He looked back up at you.

Before you realized, you were shaking your head.

The corners of Eric's lips turned up.

"Alright," he laughed.

He turned and pointed in the direction away from the ship.

"I know a mean restaurant in the village. Are you hungry? You must be."

As if on cue, your stomach growled. You slapped a hand to it, embarrassed. You looked at Eric.

He gave you a soft smile.

"It's okay. I'm sure you're starving. Let's go," he pulled you along.

At the restaurant, the two of you sat at a table. Eric asked you if you knew what you wanted to eat. When you looked confused and shook your head, Eric laughed.

"Two waters and two of the chicken plates please," he smiled at the man.

Waiting for the man to retreat, Eric grabbed your hand on the table.

"It's okay. I know it can be overwhelming. You've had a stressful day, and I'm sure being on a ship with...," he trailed off.

"Well, you know, I'm sure it's only adding to the stress. You'll feel better after you eat. Their chicken plate here is my favorite," he beamed, and you looked down to see his thumb sliding over your knuckles.

The sweet sentiment made your chest feel tight. What was this sensation? You made a rash decision in your mind, before the man returned to the table with two waters.

Smiling and thanking the man, who left again, Eric slid a cup to you, sipping from the other.

You closed your eyes. What were you doing? When you opened them again, you spoke.

"Eric," your voice sliced through the air.

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight

a Stephen Strange x OFC Romance ~ chapter two

genre: pre-Infinity War, slow burn romance, older man/younger woman, teacher/student to friends to lovers

characters: Stephen Strange, Wong, Teyla of Hadeeth (OFC), Moraine of Hadeeth (OC), additional OCs as Kamar-Taj staff

rating: general audience to begin with, later chapters contain 18+ material

Chapter One

The figure that emerged from the multi-dimensional portal three days later, was far from the carbon copy of her mother that Stephen Strange had expected.

Though similarly robed, any resemblance between the two women appeared to end there.  Where Moraine of Hadeeth was stately and striking, and possessed of an unearthly sort of beauty, her daughter Teyla seemed to be plain, simple and unassuming.  Pale-skinned, with light brown hair that hung limply past her shoulders, her shapeless robe appeared to hide a slight frame, and her sandaled feet were nearly as small as a child’s—yet her face informed him that she was perhaps a decade older than he had anticipated. 

Stephen opened his mouth, about to speak a word of welcome, but she had turned back to the portal, taking a last look at whatever—or whomever—she had left behind.  She remained with her back to him, until the circle closed; in its wake, she bowed her head a moment, and then squared her shoulders, readjusting the straps of the large, cleverly woven bag that she bore upon her back.  Finally facing him, Teyla gave a formal little bow, but the weight of her basket shifted, nearly upsetting her balance, so that Stephen had to lunge forward to catch a hold of her arm before she fell.

“Th…th…thank you, Sir,” she managed, sounding shy and more than a little embarrassed, “I…I think I can manage it now.”  Her speech had a slight lilt to it, reminding him that English was not her native tongue.  Teyla kept her eyes lowered as she worked to regain her composure.

Stephen released her, backing up a few steps, frowning at the unavoidable need to abruptly invade her personal space.  “You’re welcome, Miss…”  What should he call her?  Miss Teyla might sound a bit awkward—but Mistress surely didn’t fit; he settled on changing the subject, helpfully suggesting, “Why don’t you set that down?  I can have someone collect it for you later, and leave it in your quarters.”

She nodded, and murmured her thanks again, allowing the basket to slide from her shoulders, onto the ground.  She took a deep breath, bracing herself to address him, and finally met his eyes.  “You are Master Strange, I take it?”  Teyla spoke softly, quietly contrite, “Please forgive my clumsiness.  I am normally not such a…klutz.” 

Despite the initial awkwardness between them, Stephen smiled at her use of the Earth colloquialism.  Surprise colored her soft brown eyes, as if she had expected a stern reaction to her artlessness.  Though her face was rather ordinary (and so unlike her mother’s, he mused again) her widened, doe-like eyes, shaded by a thick fringe of lashes, were lovely—and very expressive.  At the moment, they made her seem a little sad (perhaps she is, he thought, in leaving her familiar world behind), the total effect softening what might otherwise seem plain--and stirring him to a bit of sympathy.  

“No need to apologize,” he told her kindly, “And you are very welcome here, in Kamar-Taj.”

A little smile crept upon the corners of her mouth, “I thank you for your hospitality and kindness, Master Strange.”  A bit of confidence restored, she offered him her right hand, in another show of familiarity with the customs of her father. “I am Teyla of Hadeeth—but I suppose you know that already,” she shrugged, diffident but clearly well-mannered.

Stephen reached to shake her hand, and as their hands met, she breathed in sharply.  Though it often nettled him to see strangers’ reactions to his scars, he had learned to let it pass unanswered—unless they outright gawked.  Telya’s grasp was light, so he guessed she might be concerned a firmer hold would cause him pain.  She studied their hands together, flipping them a bit so she could see the back of his.  He swore he heard her whisper, ‘oh…they are yours’, before she looked up to study his face, shock and curiosity evident upon her simple features. 

“Pardon me.”  Brusquely, he withdrew his hand, having tempered his statement with a bit of latitude—as rude as her reaction seemed, he believed no ill had been intended.  “An old injury,” he added, “And one that brought me to Kamar-Taj.  In the greater scheme of things, these scars have no bearing on the work we do here—but I would ask you, kindly, not to stare.”

“Of…of course, Master Strange.”  Teyla bowed her head, embarrassed again at her faux pas, “I meant no disrespect, Sir.”

Stephen nodded, certain of her sincerity, and ready to move along to more important things.  “Well then…your mother has tasked us with furthering your education in the mystic arts.”  She nodded, so that he continued, “But before we proceed, we need to evaluate what skills you have mastered.”

“Yes.  Yes, I understand.”  She had visibly brightened at the change of topic.  “My mother told me it would be so.”

“Good.  Excellent, in fact,” he replied, adopting the not so welcome role as mentor, “We have several Masters in residence, and I have made arrangements for you to see them.  No rush, so if you need some time to get your bearings here…”

“No, that will not be necessary, Master Strange,” she told him eagerly, “I am prepared for whatever tests you have planned.”

“Alright then—if you would follow me,” Stephen motioned to the archway to his right, “We’ll get you started right away.”

Stephen had left his charge in one of the smaller practice rooms, allowing for Masters of the various disciplines to put her through her paces without unnecessary distractions.  As he knew himself not to be as expert in some disciplines as his peers, he thought it best to rely on their judgement, rather than assess Teyla himself; and a variety of opinions would certainly provide a more complete appraisal of her overall skill level and potential, than that of a single teacher.  Wong soon joined Strange in the Sanctuary Room, to wait for the Masters to report their findings.

The results were mixed, but at least gave Stephen a handle on where they needed to concentrate their efforts.  Teyla had managed a portal, after some effort, marking her halfway between a Novice and an Adept.  She handily moved--even levitated-- small objects, and did so with very little effort.  But she had no training in hand-to-hand combat, and no skill—or seeming interest—in conjuring weapons, let alone items she might use in self-defense.  Exactly the skills her mother hoped we would foster in her, Steven concluded, and therein lies our challenge.

On the upside, Master Salma had been astounded at Teyla’s ability to read people’s emotional states; she reported that the young Hadeethan’s skill was well beyond any that she had encountered since becoming Master of that discipline.  “She doesn’t even require physical contact to accurately read someone; she worked wonders just in the proximity of the test subjects,” she informed Strange, visibly excited at the discovery, “And when I placed several objects on a table across the room from her, Teyla successfully read how each item had been last used, by the emotional residue left behind by the user.  Allowing her to handle the objects enabled her to pick up on further details—beyond the most recent user.”

“Incredible.  Could you tell if her abilities were innate, or the product of some intensive training?”  If the later, Stephen believed it would be worth an exchange of knowledge with the Hadeethans to develop such a program for Kamar-Taj.

Salma shook her head, “Best I can tell is she’s a natural empath—and someone must have recognized it in her early on, because her skills are off the charts.”

“That good, eh?”

“Frankly, her abilities far surpass anything Kamar-Taj has seen in a student or a teacher in…well, centuries,” Salma grinned, “When time allows, I’d love to see what she can do reading someone from another room.”

Strange took a moment, mulling over the new information.  “Hmm…sounds to me like she should be teaching us, rather than us training her.”

“We could see about that--eventually,” Salma replied wryly, “Though I’m not ready to be replaced quite yet, Stephen.  But for now, there are a few things we can do to help her foster and refine her skills.”

“Such as?”

“Well, one of the pitfalls of this sort of empathy is a kind of…bleed, if you will--when reading in especially intense situations--which can influence and effect the empath’s own emotional health and mental state.  But that is something we can help her with,” she revealed confidently, “We can show her how to screen out those things that might impair objectivity of mind—and the things that could play havoc with her heart.”

Stephen nodded, satisfied with the thoroughness of her assessment.  “One thing, though, Master Salma.  Teyla’s mother charged us with building on her daughter’s raw ability for divination—or at least giving her some guidance in its practical use.”

Salma shook her head, “I wish I had better to offer her, but all we can manage right now is an education in dream interpretation.  Beyond that is territory that few here have any experience with.”  She bobbed her head in a small bow, “Now if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen—I’ve a group of Adepts awaiting my guidance this afternoon.” 

“Of course—and thank you, Salma.  You’ve given us much to think about.”   

Strange watched her leave, considering their limited options, and then looked to Wong, “There must be something in our library, or in the Ancient One’s collection, that we can use to give this young woman the instruction she needs.”

“There are,” Wong offered, “Dusty old scrolls, arcane texts--that seldom see the light of day.  You’ll have some heavy reading to do to bring yourself up to speed, Stephen.” 

“I hope you’re joking, Wong,” Strange replied, “I can’t be the best man for the job.”

“I’m afraid so.  You’re the quickest study we’ve got,” Wong chuckled, enjoying the irony that’s Strange’s strengths had him cornered, “And that unbeatable memory of yours is bound to come in handy.” 

Stephen frowned, sighing hard as he recognized the futility of any protest he might make, “I’m not getting out of this one, am I?”

“Nope.”  Wong favored him with a rare smile, “I’ll have those texts ready for you by the end of the day.”  He laughed quietly to himself, leaving Stephen behind, muttering under his breath.

Stephen looked up at the sound of gentle rapping, to see Teyla pop her head through the entryway of the Sanctuary Room.  “Hello?  Master Strange?  You summoned me?”  Patiently, she waited in place for him to acknowledge her.

“Yes,” he stood and motioned her forward, “Please—have a seat.”  Again, her appearance was not as he’d anticipated; she had changed from her Hadeethan robe into an over-sized tee shirt and well-worn denim leggings, and had pulled her hair back into a ponytail.  The look knocked at least a half a dozen years from her age.  Now, she looked like a typical freshman from any American university—and though her alien heritage was equal to her human blood, for a few moments she was like an unexpected taste of home. 

He couldn’t suppress a grin as she neared him, “Blue Oyster Cult.  Nice.”

“Oh…yes,” she replied, surprised at his reference, “Do you know of them, Master Strange?”

“I do indeed,” he nodded.  “In fact, they were a part of the…” Stephen chuckled at the memories, “…soundtrack of my youth.”

“I have enjoyed their poetry at times, although it is often quite somber—but they were among my father’s favorite performance groups.”  Her admission was a pleasant surprise.  Teyla took a seat across from him.  “This garment was my father’s,” her voice grew soft with sentimentality, “He made a gift of it to me, at our last parting.  I do not wear it publically on Hadeeth—there are those on my home world who lack tolerance regarding my patrimony.”  She shrugged shyly, and smiled—though Stephen noted it did not reach her eyes.

“I take it that it’s been some time since you’ve seen him,” he prompted her, curious as to the time she’d spent on Earth.

She took a breath, seeming to do a calculation before she answered, “Why yes…it’s been…hmm…nearly six Earth years.  But I hope to find some time to visit him, once my training here is complete.”

“Well then, we will do our best to move things along so that you can do that as soon as possible.”  Her smile in reply was far more sincere than her last, leaving Stephen glad to have given her the cause.  “So,” he continued, getting down to the most important business at hand, “Ideally, your training here will involve several disciplines; defensive spells, and the conjuring of defensive tools, as well as helping you to control and tap into your gift for divination.”  She looked down at the mention of the later, as though uncomfortable with the topic—and when she raised her eyes, he could swear she was looking at his hands again.  He shook it off, telling himself he was being overly self-conscious due to her blunder at their initial meeting.

“And healing spells,” she asked, “That way my future lies--so they would be the most welcome lesson of all.”

Healing.  That had been his life and his own future, once upon a time—and though he could never return to those days, Stephen would forever think of himself as Doctor, before any other title he would ever bear.  He appreciated that such a vocation was her top priority.

“We will offer what we can, Teyla.  Though the bulk of your time will be spent working towards proficiency in those elements that are the backbone of the mystic arts.

“As my mother wills it,” she replied, resigned to the plan that Moraine had intended for her.

“Yes,” he nodded, “And beginning in the morning, you will have a minimum two hours training, daily, in physical defense and combat…”

“No…wait…there is no need for that.”  Teyla’s humble, placid expression dissolved into a stubborn mien.  “My work is as a healer.  I thought you understood this…”

“Yes,” he replied again, holding up one hand to signal her to quiet a moment and allow for an explanation, “Please, Teyla—there are sound reasons for this…”

Though her eyes flashed defiantly, she pursed her lips into silence, ceding the moment to him.  Stephen continued, calling on what skill for diplomacy was his, “I promise you will understand this necessity as you advance in your education here.  Concentrating first on developing physical discipline is a stepping stone to nurturing mental discipline.  Master your body, and the path is clear to master your mind.”  Stephen paused, watching her expression soften, pleased that he was getting his message across to her.  “Once you have mastered mental discipline, you can achieve nearly anything, as long as you have the will for it.”

Teyla sighed hard, and rolled her eyes (damn, that’s a purely human habit, he thought, trying not to smile at how much it made her look like an impatient teenager), “As you say, Master Strange.”  She tilted her head, offering an apology, “Please forgive my rash words, Sir.  I only just…well, you see, I feel my purpose so strongly, and any delay is a source of frustration.  I promise I will do, faithfully, whatever is required of me to complete my training.”

Stephen leaned across the table, seeking to put her at ease.  “I understand your passion, Teyla of Hadeeth.  Would you believe I’ve felt the same myself?”  Her eyes went wide as she listened.  “I was…I am…a healer myself.  A doctor.  My specialty was neurosurgery.  I spent half my life studying, learning, training, searching for greater knowledge, because I knew without a doubt that these hands were meant precisely for that work.”  He held them up to her, making no effort to conceal their shaking, let alone the painful map of scars that symbolized all that he had lost, “These hands, Teyla, worked medical miracles; I helped thousands to lead better, longer lives.  I know the desire to heal, and I know the sweet satisfaction of that service done well.  But I never would have reached that pinnacle without the beginning baby steps.  Trust me when I say, you will get there.”

Teyla’s soft, doe-eyes had misted up as he told his story.  He hadn’t meant to make her feel sorry for him—never, never did he intend that with anyone in this new life.  He only needed to make his point clear.  Stephen would have spoken more, but that she took his took one of his hands, studying it even more intently than when they’d shaken hands in the courtyard.  “I understand…Doctor.  Doctor Strange.”  She smiled sadly, “You have lived through much, to come to this place.  But your journey has been worth the cost.” She released his hand—which tingled warmly afterwards—and told him, “I will follow whatever path you deem most wise, Doctor Strange.  I will put my future in your hands.”  She rose, and made a little bow, bidding him goodnight.         

Stephen sat in silence a while longer, considering the puzzle Teyla presented.  She seemed soft and unassuming, yet she spoke her mind without compunction.  She had a share of unexpected wisdom for her age (although he actually wasn’t even sure yet, how old she was), and she was passionate about her purpose in life.  He had to respect that—and that her heart seemed bent toward service to others, made him like her even more.  He found he didn’t dread so much, the research he would have to put in to help her refine her divination skills; perhaps he’d even learn a thing or two that might be of use to him someday.

Wong—ever true to his word—had sent a selection of scrolls and texts to Stephen’s room, so that the eager student in him couldn’t resist getting a start in researching the rare art he was obliged to tutor Teyla in.  He read for about an hour—until his eyes were bleary—making mental notes of key ideas he would revisit when his mind was fresher.  All the while, though, his thoughts would drift back to those final moments of their conversation.  How Teyla had responded so sympathetically to his story; how she had taken his hand.  Under normal circumstances, he would have found that far too familiar, especially on so short of an acquaintance—yet she had breached that personal barrier so gently, he hadn’t even thought to protest.

Only when he’d set his head upon his pillow and closed his eyes, winding down to sleep, did the realization hit him.  Master Salma had told him the young woman was an empath of extraordinary skill—and that’s exactly what she’d done to him.  She’d read his feelings as casually as one might read a street sign; read his feelings and understood with a kind of quiet intimacy, his struggle.  And when she touched his hand, he was willing to bet she gained some understanding of the physical cost his accident had wreaked upon him.  Stephen wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it; it wasn’t an intentional violation of his privacy, and certainly she’d meant no harm.  In fact, he wondered if that warm tingle her touch had left behind was some trace of healing magic—and if so, was it even possible that she could offer some relief to him, when he had long accepted that he and the lingering pain of his damaged hands were meant to be lifetime companions.

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[dreamsallalongthewatchtower]

CH.2 For the Record

Summary: The daggers meet Phoenix's friend. Hangman tries to be sweet. Bob does what he does best and looks out for everyone

Notes: Drinking and swearing. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word count: 2.7k

“Let me change really quick and then we’ll go in.” Maya said opening her trunk. The singer grabbed a duffle bag opening it to grab her nicer clothes. Maya pushed down her blue jeans and pulled her black tank top over her head, tossing both into the duffle bag. “You still change in public; some things never change.” Natasha said, looking out into the garage making sure no one was watching. Maya threw on a bright green floral crop top with a pair of black high waisted bootcut jeans and a pair of tan sandals with black braided straps. She threw her bag into the trunk and fixed her hair into two space buns. “Okay, you ready?” Maya asked her friend, grabbing her purse and keys. The two women started towards their way to the stairs to get out of the parking garage and into the party. When they came out to an alley Phoenix started to walk out to the street. “Nix, we don’t need to bother with going through the front, follow me.” Maya shouted. The friends made their way to a backdoor, Maya punched in a key code and the door opened. Making their way through a service hallway Maya leading Nix through a series of turns before coming to another door. Maya knocked three times slowly like she was using a sequence for the person on the other side to know it was her. It took a second, but just as Maya was about to run through her knocking again the door swung open. A bouncer looked at Maya and Natasha. “Maya, I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” The bouncer said surprised to see her. “Yeah Cody, we’re here to celebrate my friend’s birthday.” Maya answered wrapping her arm around Natasha. “Happy Birthday! Come on in.” The bouncer said with a gleeful tone. “Thanks Cody!” Maya yelled back. Maya leading the way again through another hallway. “A friend of mine wants to know if you have any friends for them?” Natasha asked. “Oh yes, whatever their preference is I can have friends for your friends. So, do I call your friends by their names or by their call signs?” Maya inquired, turning into a kitchen. “You can call them whatever you want. They don’t really care.” Natasha responded. As they emerged towards a dim area Maya saw a man in a burgundy suit leaning against a doorway. Maya looked at her friend and placed her index finger to her lips signaling for her to be quiet. Maya crept up next to the man and coughed. The man jumped and dropped his phone. “Jesus Maya, you scared the shit out of me.” The man said reaching down to pick up his phone. “Oh, Noah calm down, at least I didn’t do what I did on Halloween.” Maya turned to her friend. “I dressed up as a doll and stood in one of those toy boxes with a clear front waiting for him to come into his office and I broke through the box with blood coming out of my mouth asking if he was my mommy. It was hilarious.” Maya said through a series of laughs. “No, it was not. I’m Noah by the way.” The gentleman said, extending his hand to Phoenix. Phoenix shook the gentleman’s hand. “Lieutenant Natasha Trace. U.S. Naval Aviator.” “So, Noah, do we have our VIP set up? This is the birthday girl.” Maya said pointing to Phoenix. “Well, Happy Birthday Lieutenant. Yes, it is just find me when you want the bottle girls to come out.” Noah replied. “Just have them come in five minutes.” Maya said giving Noah a hug and led her friend to a set of stairs.

At the top of the stairs the girls emerged from behind a door and were finally in the nightclub. Maya pointed to a booth with black ropes in front of it. “That’s our VIP, let your friends know to check in at the front using your call sign to get in. I’m going to go get us some drinks.” Maya said departing from her friend to go to the bar. Maya stood at the end of the bar waiting to get a bartender’s attention. A familiar face made their way towards Maya. “Heey girl, what can I do you for?” the bartender asked. “Hey Nico, I need eight shots of Patron, a Grey Goose Martini with a twist of lemon and a double neat of the Woodford Reserve. How have you been?” Maya asked. “You know me just working and shaking my ass every chance I get. What brings you in here ordering 10 drinks?” Nico asked back. “It’s a friend’s birthday slash birth week so we are here kicking off the fun.” Maya shouted as he started making the martini. “Here ya go girl, this first round is on me.” “Nico! No! you have to let me pay.” Maya protested. Nico walked away before Maya could give him her card. Carefully Maya walked with a tray to the VIP booth. Not even aware of the people that were there, Maya set the tray down and was greeted with a couple happy faces. “Hi ya’ll I’m Maya.” The singer said, handing Natasha her martini. “I assume you’re Phoenix’s buddies from the Navy?” “Yes, they are, this is just a few of them. This is Fanboy, Payback, and Coyote.” Phoenix said introducing the first half of the aviators.

“Holy Shit! Please tell me you work here too!” A voice yelled in surprise. Maya turned around to the same three men she had encountered earlier. “Maya this is-“ “Lieutenant, Jake, Robert and Bradley. Yeah, we met earlier.” Maya said cutting off her friend. “Better known as Hangman, Bob and Rooster.” Phoenix continued. “Hangman huh? This is the Ken doll I was telling you about.” Maya said looking in Phoenix’s direction. Phoenix, Bob, and Rooster all started laughing while the rest of the daggers looked lost. “This was the cutie with the Eagle Rare I told you about.” Jake said to Coyote, Payback and Fanboy. The three took a second before they connected the dots, then burst out into laughter. Before anyone could get another word out, a line of barely dressed bottle girls surrounded the group with signs and bottles that had sparklers on top came out and sang happy birthday to Phoenix. After a few moments the girls left bottles of Grey Goose, Casamigos, and Cristal on the table. “So, Maya how do you know Phoenix?” Coyote asked. “We grew up together. She’s like the sibling I never had.” Maya answered. “Before we go shaking our asses, we have shots of tequila here. Everyone grab one!” Maya shouted. All the daggers grabbed a shot looking at Phoenix. “Ashes, do you want to do your toast?” Natasha asked. “Alright. Here’s to women we love them in linen, we love them in lace, we love them the most when they sit on our face. HAPPY BIRTHDAY PHOENIX!!” Maya concluded. Everyone touched the bottom of their shot glass to the table and shouted salud and threw back their shots. “Okay let’s go dance!” Fanboy shouted. The group followed Mickey as he led the way to a group of girls that were already on the dance floor. While Maya and Natasha were dancing Maya realized her friend never answered her question earlier about her liking or hating Rooster. “So, Nix what’s Rooster like?” Maya asked her friend. “Oh, you know, an ass but dreamy and never afraid to say what’s on his mind. He has the prettiest brown eyes. He’s always wearing these cool Hawaiian shirts, but the one he has on tonight is by far the goofiest one he owns. Why?” Phoenix said breaking her trance. “No reason, so you like him then huh?” Maya coaxed. “Well, he’s cute and I’ve thought about it, but I don’t want to ruin our friendship if he doesn’t reciprocate the feeling. You know?” “Oh, I do know.” Maya said giving her friend a hug. After a couple songs the daggers made their way back to the VIP booth. Everyone was in good spirits and Maya was happy she could give her friend a good birthday. When a group of women approached the booth Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy, and Payback got excited. The three men accompanied the ladies to the dance floor. Rooster dragged Bob and Phoenix onto the dance floor with him leaving Maya alone. The nightclub was starting to feel suffocating to Maya. She decided she needed to get some air. Making sure the daggers weren’t watching as she slipped out the same door her and Natasha had arrived from. Maya walked to the other end of the hallway to another set of stairs, this set leading to the roof. Maya reached the door and propped it wide open with a rock. Walking to the edge of the roof she took a look at all the lights illuminating the night sky. Maya closed her eyes and took a huge breath in. Letting it out, Maya opened her eyes and sat on the cool concrete of the roof. Before getting lost in her thoughts she heard footsteps approaching from the stairs.

“I know Noah, I won’t be up here too long.” Maya said without looking to see it was Jake not Noah who came to her. “Well, I promise I won’t tell on you.” Jake responded. “Hey Ken doll, sorry thought you were someone else.” Maya said. “I’m sorry about earlier. I may have come on too strong.” Jake stated. “That’s okay. Had I known you were one of Natasha’s friends I would have bought you a drink.” Maya said. “So, you’re a singer, do you just do shows here in Vegas, or do you go on tour?” Jake asked. “I mostly do shows here in Vegas. Can I tell you a secret? You cannot tell anyone. Especially Natasha.” Maya said. “Sure” “I’m leaving Vegas soon; I have an offer in Los Angeles to record a demo. I want to surprise Phoenix on the last day.” Maya said “Well that’s really cool Maya. Let me ask you this. Why did Phoenix call you Ashes? I thought your name was Maya.” Jake asked. “It is. My full name is Maya Ashley Atwell. It is also a nickname from when we were kids. I was really into pyrotechnics and one day I burnt a kid’s homework. By accident. I tried to put the paper back together and the teacher said that everything I touch turns to ashes. The name kind of stuck and I think it’s fitting. Phoenix and Ashes. We always joked that if Nix’s career didn’t work out, we could form a band with that name.” Maya finished. “Well, I’d buy tickets to see Phoenix and Ashes. You know it’s a shame Rooster hasn’t told her how he feels they could be good together.” Jake let out. “Wait Rooster likes Natasha?? This is perfect cause a little birdie told me she likes Rooster. Maybe we should try for another surprise for her. What do you say Hangman? Want to get your friends together? They would be great together.” Maya asked eagerly. “Sure, Ashes we can do that.” Jake answered. “Tell me how you ended up in Vegas?” Jake asked. “Well, that a long story but the main thing was my parents. They urged me to pursue my dreams of being a singer. So, when I met someone who I thought could give me the world I followed him here. It was the oldest story in the book, He had me wrapped around his finger, I did anything to please him. Soon he got me hooked on drugs and was cheating. One night he tried to pimp me out to a music producer that was passing through here. That’s when I woke up from my drug induced fog.” Maya said as she swirled her bourbon around in her glass. “So why stay? Why not leave the horrible things that happened?” Jake furthered. “I was reading the paper one day at a diner trying to figure out my next move, when I saw my picture in an article relating to property damage at one of the casinos. So, I spoke with an officer over the phone and found out I had a warrant for my arrest for a lot of stupid shit I had done. I called my aunt to let her know I needed a lawyer. She sent one and he helped me get down to two years’ probation, some community service and I met with every one of the managers of the places I destroyed. We agreed upon a set amount that I was to pay back to them individually. Plus, I met a lot of cool people while working here, it’s like a second home that I can’t wait to leave.” Maya answered. Letting the reply hang in the air Maya finished her drink and looked at Jake, Jake looked back at Maya. Just as he started to say something Maya slammed her lips on Jake’s. Jake started kissing Maya back, running his tongue along her bottom lip trying for access to her mouth he tasted the remnants of her bourbon. This made Jake pull away from Maya. “I’m sorry Maya, I want to do this the right way. I don’t want this to be something that either one of us regrets.” “I get it.” Maya said looking away. “We should get back before we get in trouble.” Maya said standing up walking towards the door. Jake walked into the hallway waiting for Maya to shut the door.

Leading the way back into the club, Maya couldn’t see Phoenix. At the VIP booth no one was around. Before Maya went on a goose chase looking for her friend, Bob came over in a nervous state. “Bob where is Natasha?” Maya questioned. “A lot of people are buying her and the rest of the dagger’s shots. She went to the bathroom last I saw her.” Bob replied. “Okay go round up the rest of the daggers and I’ll grab Natasha. Meet me here.” Maya instructed. Bob disappeared into the crowd. Maya looked at Hangman. He was busy looking over the top of the crowd to try and spot Phoenix. “I’m going to go find her in the bathroom.” Maya yelled over the music to Jake. “No need, she is at the bar. Go grab her and we’ll wait here for you.” Jake yelled down to Maya. Maya didn’t give it a second thought, she moved through the crowd and eventually ended up next to her friend. “Ashes! Where did you go!’ The now intoxicated Natasha yelled at her friend. “I’ve been making plans for us. I have a surprise at the house, but we have to go now. Okay?” Maya said, removing the drink that Natasha was holding onto. Maya grabbed her friend by the wrist, and they made their way to the VIP booth. The rest of the daggers were there waiting, all but Hangman, and Bob were pretty tipsy. “Okay. Everyone grab your things and follow me.” Maya instructed. The daggers followed Maya to the back of the club. Once everyone was in the hallway, Maya pulled out her phone. “I don’t have enough room in the car to take everyone so I’m calling a friend. He has a cab and he’ll follow me to the house. So, I need either three or four of you to ride in his cab. The rest can ride with me. So, figured it out while I call him.” Maya said. Maya called her friend and gave him instructions to meet them at the parking garage. Maya then led all the aviators through the same series of hallways and turns as she had earlier with Phoenix. “Bob, Jake watch everyone. I’m going to go grab my car.” Maya said walking away from the group. Racing up the stairs Maya reached her car. She quickly cleaned her back seat and threw everything into the trunk to make room for the daggers. Making her way down to everyone Maya hoped Jake would ride with her. “Okay, who is riding with me?” Maya asked. Fanboy, Bob and Hangman all started walking towards Maya’s car. After waiting a few minutes headlights appeared. “That’s my friend, the rest of you pile into his cab and he’ll follow me to the house for a little after party.” Maya said. Waiting for everyone to get situated, Maya sent a text to a couple of other friends to meet her at her house in thirty minutes.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

The War of the Kings

1 In those days Amraphel king of Shinar, Arioch king of Ellasar, Chedorlaomer king of Elam, and Tidal king of Goiim 2 went to war against Bera king of Sodom, Birsha king of Gomorrah, Shinab king of Admah, Shemeber king of Zeboiim, and the king of Bela (that is, Zoar).

3 The latter five came as allies to the Valley of Siddim (that is, the Salt Sea). 4 For twelve years they had been subject to Chedorlaomer, but in the thirteenth year they rebelled.

5 In the fourteenth year, Chedorlaomer and the kings allied with him went out and defeated the Rephaites in Ashteroth-karnaim, the Zuzites in Ham, the Emites in Shaveh-kiriathaim, 6 and the Horites in the area of Mount Seir, as far as El-paran, which is near the desert. 7 Then they turned back to invade En-mishpat (that is, Kadesh), and they conquered the whole territory of the Amalekites, as well as the Amorites who lived in Hazazon-tamar.

8 Then the king of Sodom, the king of Gomorrah, the king of Admah, the king of Zeboiim, and the king of Bela (that is, Zoar) marched out and arrayed themselves for battle in the Valley of Siddim 9 against Chedorlaomer king of Elam, Tidal king of Goiim, Amraphel king of Shinar, and Arioch king of Ellasar—four kings against five.

Abram Rescues Lot

10 Now the Valley of Siddim was full of tar pits, and as the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah fled, some men fell into the pits, but the survivors fled to the hill country.

11 The four kings seized all the goods of Sodom and Gomorrah and all their food, and they went on their way. 12 They also carried off Abram’s nephew Lot and his possessions, since Lot was living in Sodom.

13 Then an escapee came and reported this to Abram the Hebrew. Now Abram was living near the Oaks of Mamre the Amorite, a brother of Eshcol and Aner, all of whom were bound by treaty to Abram. 14 And when Abram heard that his relative had been captured, he mobilized the 318 trained men born in his household, and they set out in pursuit as far as Dan.

15 During the night, Abram divided his forces and routed Chedorlaomer’s army, pursuing them as far as Hobah, north of Damascus. 16 He retrieved all the goods, as well as his relative Lot and his possessions, together with the women and the rest of the people.

Melchizedek Blesses Abram (Psalm 110:1–7; Hebrews 7:1–10)

17 After Abram returned from defeating Chedorlaomer and the kings allied with him, the king of Sodom went out to meet him in the Valley of Shaveh (that is, the King’s Valley).

18 Then Melchizedek king of Salem brought out bread and wine—since he was priest of God Most High — 19 and he blessed Abram and said:

“Blessed be Abram by God Most High,

Creator of heaven and earth,

20 and blessed be God Most High,

who has delivered your enemies into your hand.”

Then Abram gave Melchizedek a tenth of everything.

21 The king of Sodom said to Abram, “Give me the people, but take the goods for yourself.”

22 But Abram replied to the king of Sodom, “I have raised my hand to the LORD God Most High, Creator of heaven and earth, 23 that I will not accept even a thread, or a strap of a sandal, or anything that belongs to you, lest you should say, ‘I have made Abram rich.’ 24 I will accept nothing but what my men have eaten and the share for the men who went with me—Aner, Eshcol, and Mamre. They may take their portion.” — Genesis 14 | Majority Standard Bible (MSB) The Majority Standard Bible is in the public domain Cross References: Genesis 10:10; Genesis 10:19; Genesis 10:22; Genesis 11:3; Genesis 11:27; Genesis 12:5; Genesis 13:10; Genesis 13:18; Genesis 16:14; Genesis 21:21; Genesis 24:3; Numbers 34:12; Deuteronomy 1:4; 1 Samuel 30:8; 2 Samuel 18:18; 1 Chronicles 10:12; John 1:27; Acts 9:2; Hebrews 5:6; Hebrews 7:4; Revelation 10:6

Melchizedek Blesses Abraham

[kimludcom]

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