#But both the gold in the pink fabric as well as the collar are like metallic as shit

[itstokkii]

rating the new flower pop up outfits as a fashion major

what the title says

Spain

im ngl spains one is actually my favorite, and I think is the best out of all of these. this is because:

he has an established style/fashion sense throughout these pop-up events

the flared train at the back is a unique twist that's nice to look at

the color theme is consistent throughout, shades of similar dark red, and pink and white as accent colors

my only complaint is that the flowers aren't central to his outfit, but this is a complaint I have with all the outfits. if this is about the countries' national flowers, it should go with the design and not as an afterthought.

FINAL POINT: 9/10

China

I love the flower patterns on the inside of his cape! his design is rather nice

this is where the compliments end because now I have issues:

what is up with this color scheme? the white boots throw everything off, both design wise and color. the peach pink could be a little darker as well, like how spain has visibly different shades of red but they work well together because they look similar to each other.

balance in a design is incredibly important. the pieces need to look unified and not like a bunch of different pieces forced on as a single outfit. the color and pattern on the inside of the cape could be used on the blazer replacing the peach pink, whereas the notch collar and lapel could remain as peach pink. this way, the outfit is unified while the peach pink adds a pop of color as contrast. the cuffs could potentially be a different piece cut of the peach pink fabric and sewed onto the end of the sleeve.

his pants are very high waisted, it looks odd. either keep his pants high waisted and make the blazer longer, or lower the pants a little. short blazers can work in certain situations, but it's not doing anything here.

honestly I just wanna know what was the designing process behind this

FINAL POINT: 6/10

France

I love the light blue, white, and cream color scheme here! this is maybe, next to spain's, the best color scheme. the flower placement works and is still a noticeable detail in his design.

additionally, the colors are applied in a way that keeps the design balanced and unified. the bottom is cream, and the top has a cravat of the same color. the dress shoes is a good contrast that still works due to how light the brown is. the cape is blue, which is reflected in his cravat brooch. a small detail, but it works so well. we also have his belt/girdle that's a baby blue and it also works to unify the design, even though it's slightly lighter than the cape and brooch. the cape and pants are light and easy on the eyes, and help keep the design grounded and not washed out. the gold accents are subtle and are placed at the top and the belt.

design wise, I do wonder if there's something more that could have been done to his bottoms...the top gives the perfectly princely feel, the bottom feels so plain in comparison..

FINAL POINT: 9/10

America

since there's nothing good about his design, let's skip to the bullet points already:

the color scheme is atrocious. purple and green...works if you try hard enough. but the blue?? on his shoes?? what?? I assume it was an attempt at unification with the blue pinstripes...an attempt. I would change the color of his waistcoat to match his shoes, since it's much easier to work with purple and blue than purple and green

the pinstripes were certainly a choice. I would've gotten rid of them completely and replaced it with maybe some white or gold trim at the hem and sleeves.

the flowers are placed in such a lackluster way, when it could have maybe been a design detail of flowers spaced out at the top and then collecting at the bottom of his jacket, with a few flowers spaced out at the top of his pants to balance the outfit.

once again, there is no focus or an established sense/style for him. from what I'm seeing across many pop-up events, the idea or "vibe" is a childish, sleazy(??) vibe. but that's very vague, and they would need to further outline common elements/looks they could refer back to when designing anything for him.

FINAL POINT: 2/10 my goodness

Germany

I like his design a lot, it fits his personality well! the gold trim and buttons is a nice touch that helps balance the top and bottom. the color scheme is an unexpected surprise, since in my mind he's wearing green always..? but I guess in the hws anime, he wears a blue suit.

I do wish the suit was a different shade of blue, like a slightly lighter shade, since the stark blue and yellow feel very in-your-face like Ikea, and since the flowers feel like a blue plum, this really deep, dark shade of blue just feels like a bit too much.

my other only issue with this is honestly the flower placement. I see that they were trying to balance the placement on the left and right, but it covers up important design details like the gold trim on the shoulder and the viennese seam.

FINAL POINT: 7/10

Italy

it honestly feels so similar to the sweets parade pop up, so i really don't know how to feel. especially the train/cape detail that was in both. that doesn't immediately mean this is bad, though

I do like the train here because it's such a reflection of his personality!

it's nice how they try to balance the top and bottom through the same patterns on the waistcoat and train. the pants however...

the pants throw it off. they could have gotten rid of the stripe pattern and it would have been fine.

the jacket being white isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I have issues with the lapel and collar having a green stripe. it's very stark and isn't enough to balance the jacket with the pants and blouse. the white and green needs to be swapped, i can't see it working any other way. a white blouse would still work with a yellow waistcoat and orange bow, and the green unifies the top and bottom. the only problem with this is figuring out how well this works with the orange on the inside of the jacket train...

the flower is very tiny despite being in the middle, and would need to be placed in a way that is noticeable. my initial thought was one or two daisies as lapel pins(bigger than the daisy on the bow) connected by a gold chain...perhaps the bow-daisy design detail could be added at the top of his boots?

FINAL POINT: 6/10

Japan

*grits teeth in korean* he's pretty charming here i gotta give him that

the pink-green is ATROCIOUS. different shades of pink and green would have worked. they chose a colder pink with a colder green and it just clashes so hard. this cold pink also clashes with the warm magenta. the pink and green are extremely light, and would benefit from being more prominent and warmer shades.

there is no balance because below that is just white with gold details. the white just eats everything up, especially because the pink and green are extremely light shades. the cuffed hem at the bottom of the pants are fine, but the rest of the pants would work better in pink or green. or fine, keep the pants. but the shoes better be in green or pink.

the inside of the cape is way too light, and alongside the pants and shoes, eats the other colors up. I would make the pattern on the inside a gold trim, and the background a more prominent pink.

again, the flower here is really tiny. cherry blossoms aren't known for their size, but if the whole point of this is highlighting the nations' flowers, the flowers should be a bigger deal that the design works around, not an afterthought. I'd add cherry blossom petals onto the pants, spaced out so it looks like they're falling to the bottom.

FINAL POINT: 5/10 good lord the white

England

THIS DESIGN. i have the BIGGEST BEEF with it its a designers NIGHTMARE

where is the balance? i'm supposed to expect these dark plaid pants to work with the light red roses? why is this plaid? where is plaid anywhere else in this design? if the top is white what is unifying this design?

to fix this problem i'd burn the plaid pants. but if that's not an option, i'd give him a plaid waistcoat. but honestly, burn the plaid pants. NOW.

there has to be a better way to incorporate the roses into this design. i'm thinking a dark red coat with gold rose trim, and removing the lone rose at the bottom of his top. also the roses gotta be the same dark red as his pants.

the frills are also excessive. cmon man.

FINAL POINT: 2/10 something something like father like son

Russia

*grits teeth in uzbek* he really is a dapper lil man...

so first off this color scheme is wonderful. for a guy associated with winter constantly, the sunny yellow and green matches his sort of...enthusiastic attitude?? however there is one(1) issue I have with it. the yellow would look better as a warmer, slightly golden yellow. because right now it looks more like paint yellow than sunny yellow. some of the light green could benefit from being a similar shade as the forest green at the hem of his pants.

the balance is there in the brown and green pants and the brown waistcoat. the green details are well placed throughout the jacket and looks great. the hat is a nice accessory that ties everything together. I don't know if the yellow jacket is overwhelming the brown bottoms, or if it's just me having issues with the shade of yellow... because if the yellow was warmer, it could work with the warm brown pants?

Instead of the gems on the chain of his pants, it could be sunflowers? there's so many opportunities to incorporate the sunflowers, but it was missed...

FINAL POINT: 8/10

Prussia

i'm sorry to say but oh...oh my goodness this is actually terrible i actually don't know where to start

it's blue everywhere. the shoes are the only breath of fresh air. but then you look at the overall design and wonder why these colors were chosen.

these shades of blue don't unify this outfit. the waistcoat is a colder blue compared to the pants. also, the random flower pattern on the shoulders? nobody asked prussia pack up and go home. there's silver stripes on the side of his pants. that could have been the color of the flower chain instead of?? brown??

I love the flower chain though im ngl

there has to be some sort of secondary color that's prominent enough to balance the outfit properly. there is none here so I'm just very lost like i don't know how to save this outfit.

i'm wondering if a dark blue and red would work(thinking about his military fit from world twinkle).

FINAL POINT: 0/10 (why are you even here? you're just a province now)

Common issues

Color schemes

Balancing outfit

Minimal flower placement(I would personally design their outfits to resemble the silhouette of their national flower in some way, and perhaps use ouji fashion as a base for inspiration)

In fashion school you're taught that customer profiles are important when designing for someone, and to think of key elements in each design to keep it consistent to the profile. they need to start doing that

anyway that's it follow my soundcloud etc

[lanschpaket]

Arcane S02 color analysis (Caitlyn and Vi)

I started talking about this in my tags in one of my posts, so here's the real thing:

Caitlyn's and Vi's reunion and executing a plan together can also be seen with the colors onscreen Let me start a few episodes before that: Like, we know Cait and her commander cloak, which has a red inner fabric and it mostly stands out with her collar, framing her face in red too. She got that cloak from Ambessa and as we know the color she is dominantely associated with is the color red. So imo I see this as Ambessa's heavy influence on Cait.

Now in S02E06 Caitlyn and Vi collide and it didn't take much to get Cait away from whatever shit Ambessa was planning to do. In the scene these two meet again after a couple of episodes, Cait is not wearing her cloak. The only red thing is her choker (Will write a detailled analysis about Caitlyn too, so more on that there). Also Vi, not red/pink at all. Mostly dark, whith just a couple of tiny red highlights in her outfit now. Which is a big difference from her known iconic apprearance.

But both of them are in stark contrast to Ambessa, who appears in mostly red (and gold). Which is very strong around the camp. I also like to think that Caitlyn never meant to be there and that Ambessa really is forcing her ideals and goals onto her, cause the red and Caitlyn's blue kinda clash and don't go well together.

But aside from contrasting, I personally think, the absence of a heavy red presence in both Cait and Vi's appreance can be seen as being opposed to Ambessa and her plans. Piltover's Finest now being their own party with their own aims and morals. Back on track what feels right to them and not executing someone elses ideals. Caitlyn finally getting away from Ambessa's grasps and going back to the one thing that worked out for her. Teaming up with Vi Color and Character Analysis Caitlyn

[ponder-the-orb]

Ardently

Pairing: Fem Tav/Gale

Tags: 18+, Hurt/Comfort, smut and angst, Act 2 romance scene

Word count: 4.7K

Summary:

When the dust of his sacrifice has long since cooled and tales of this adventure are strummed by the city’s bards, Gale cares not if his involvement boils down to one line. The wizard that made his mistakes have meaning. It’s her version of the story that matters. The one she’ll keep to herself. The one that years in the future, she may find herself thinking of on quieter nights. That amongst the blood and steel and dirt, she’ll remember softer lips, careful hands, the shape of fireside stories told with words long since forgotten. And hopefully, when those memories flicker just right, that she was loved desperately and completely.

Even if the face of the man who’d said it has been worn away.

♥・。.。*♥*。.。·*♥*·。.。*♥*·。.。*♥*。.。·*♥

Can you truly fit a lifetime of love into just one night?

♥・。.。*♥*。.。·*♥*·。.。*♥*·。.。*♥*。.。·*♥

Read on AO3 or below.

“I’m no Goddess.”

“Yes you are. Trust me, I would know.”

There’s a small cluster of freckles that trail from behind Tav’s ear and down the hollow of her throat. Gale traces each one with his finger, following the shift of her body as she turns into him. He replaces his finger with his mouth, brushing back and forth to the open fastening of her collar until her neck flushes a darker pink. 

Her answering breath kisses against his ear, her fingers pulling his hair just hard enough that he sees flashes of gold behind his eyelids.

Never has he been more grateful that the summoned bed they’re tangled in doesn’t need concentration to maintain. It’s a small gesture on his part- something to anchor them to a fleeting sense of normality amongst the chill of the shadow curse. If he keeps his eyes to her face and his hands cupped to her skin, they can forget the claws of the world beyond and just be. 

She pulls his mouth back to hers and his tongue brushes the seam of her lips. There’s a lingering note of something rich there- a glass of raided wine or brandy perhaps. It’s an unexpected detail, one he’d have missed had they indulged in his original plan for the night. He’d been more than ready to make love to her amongst the breath of the stars, manipulate the fabric of reality around them and wring pleasures from her until their very souls were sated. And yet she’d simply taken his hand, looked at him with a feeling that almost felt too heavy for his shoulders and said that she wanted him as he is. 

And if there’s one thing Gale is, it’s thorough. 

He drags her clothed thigh to his hip and presses her harder into the mattress. 

If he can’t please her with his magic then he can damn well do it with his body- loving her in every way they can both imagine until she’s flushed and perfectly spent in his arms. He’d thought about it enough anyway, more and more with each passing day until he’d felt less wizard and more besotted school boy. 

It’s curious, he’d thought at first, how memories of his Goddess, so heavy and cold in their intensity could be eclipsed by such achingly mortal desires. The vision of Tav’s kiss in the weave had seared itself so thoroughly into his brain that he could scarcely watch her speak without wondering about the taste of her lips.   

And on hotter nights, the taste of her body as well.

“Wait- the poster curtains,” she gasps as his hand wanders under her shirt. When his lips don’t leave hers, she pulls him back and gestures to the open fields around them.

Ah. Privacy. Something he’d been far too pleasantly distracted to remember. He quickly turns around and waves them shut, his summoned aurora disappearing behind the thick drapes.

 As do his words when he faces her again.

Tav sits back against the cushions. She’s shadowed in the dimmer light but quite clearly completely naked.

The question of how she was able to do that dies on his tongue as he takes her in. He’d witnessed stars crash down like diamonds in the astral sea and magic born anew in the heart of Elysium and yet he can’t fathom a single sight that has left him quite so breathless as the woman smiling in front of him.

She chuckles at his silence and crawls forward, caressing the side of his face. “Ah so this is what you look like tongue-tied.” Her other hand slowly pulls the fastening of his shirt open until her thumb rests over the orb. “I think I like that.” 

His breath catches as she continues to stroke the spot. There’s a familiar fondness blooming over her face, something he’d only glimpsed during whispered conversations when the wine made her eyes shine. 

He wraps his arms around her middle and tips them both back against the sheets. He captures her mouth again, letting his hands find their own path across the miles of bare skin under him. He bites a groan into her shoulder as her hips rise to meet his, soft and blissfully warm.

“I wanted to do that,” he mumbles into her neck.

Her answering laugh rumbles through both their chests. “Well, I can put my clothes back on if you’d prefer.” 

Her tease melts into a gasp as he kisses her ear. 

“Don’t you dare.”

He sits back so she can tug off his shirt. He draws focus as she does, taking in every small detail: the scent of her hair, the sway of her hip, that previously hidden trail of freckles now spilling in a constellation over her breasts. He savours each one, pressing them like flowers between the pages of his memory. 

Tav takes her time undressing him, kissing every new inch of skin revealed. He swallows a string of rather unbecoming words as she mouths against his underwear, kissing and sucking in a devastating pattern. His eyes slam closed as she pulls them off and her lips close over him. He’s already fully, desperately hard and those sinfully wet noises are not helping his already precarious self control. Her tongue traces the full length of him and his hand flies to the back of her neck.

Gods, the verses he could write about her mouth if she’d let him.

A cooler air hits him as he suddenly feels her jerk back. He shifts onto his elbows and sees her sitting frozen by his legs. Her whole body is bathed in brilliant blue light, the orb in his chest now glowing under her wide-eyed gaze. It takes him a moment to realise she’s only seen it this way a few times before- either when he was doubled over in pain or as it greedily devoured the magical items they could part with. 

“Don’t worry. It’s safe, I swear to you,” he says, taking her hand and pressing it over the orb. It pulses under her palm, perfectly in time with his heart. “Before, excitement was something I had to avoid as such feelings made it hard to keep control. But now it’s not going to do anything unless I make it so.”

Her face relaxes as she looks from his chest to his face. Her lips twist into a gentle smirk. “So I suppose this is why my advances at the party were not getting me anywhere?” 

He laughs softly at the memory. “They were more than welcome. To know that what you pictured in the weave was no mere fantasy, but something you wanted- it was everything to me.” He cups his hand over hers, the orb still shining brightly under their touch. “Trust me when I say that I really considered testing the bounds of my self-control that night.”

He’d sat by his tent and thought in circles for hours about whether one night with her was worth disintegrating an area the size of a city. And as their journey went on, it became harder for the answer to that question to be anything other than a thunderous yes.

“Were you worried that I might seek different company?”

He pulls her a little closer at the question, pressing his forehead to hers. “Perhaps a little, but I couldn’t have really blamed you. With such danger around every corner, taking comfort with another in a moment of calm is… understandable.” His words are a half truth at best. He vividly remembers the looks she’d gotten from their other companions that night, ranging from sweet adoration to a much darker want. But despite it all, she simply made her rounds and bid each a brief goodnight. 

Even though he lay in his bedroll alone and aching that night- there was a new spark in his chest. That despite everything, she might be willing to wait for him.

“Do you know what I did that night instead?” she asks. She wraps her arms around his neck as he shakes his head and moves onto his lap. He audibly swallows as she shifts her heat against him. “When the party was finally quiet and everyone else had taken to their bedrolls, I let my mind wander anywhere it wanted. And as the night crept on, I couldn’t stop thinking. Thinking about you.”

His hands tighten against her thighs as her lips touch his chin.

 “What did you think about?” he whispers. There’s no hiding the want dripping from each of his words, the orb flaring brighter with anticipation. 

“A few things. Your face, the way your mouth quirks just so when you’re casting. But mostly your hands.” She presses a kiss to his fingers, her eyes alight. “I’ve seen what you can do with them. You’re always so very… precise. So when the fire burned low, I thought about what those hands might feel like touching me. But sadly I don’t think my own fingers could do them justice.” She leans back and he watches rapt as her wicked mouth continues in a low whisper. “So this won’t be the first time I find pleasure with your name on my lips.”

She kisses his cheek as she finishes. It’s the exact moment Gale feels his patience snap in two. 

He grabs both of her wrists and pushes her onto the mattress.

“You need not wonder any more,” he mouths against her neck, ready to show her just how precise his hands can be. 

He kisses down to her breasts. Her heart pounds against his cheek as he covers one with his mouth, licking over her nipple until it hardens under his touch. He lightly massages the other, savouring each little gasp and whimper that spills from her lips.

She cries out louder as he tugs her nipple between his teeth. He does it again, slipping his leg between hers and parting her thighs with his knee. There’s no hesitation in his touch as he maps a new path, softly caressing her stomach before dipping lower.  

Her breath catches as he brushes her folds, so he presses harder- spreading the wetness building against the pad of his thumb. He circles her clit slowly at first, lifting his mouth so he can watch her face twist and bloom with want. 

He kisses the tip of her breast, then her lips. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, skirting his mouth down with clear intent. 

She cries out again as he strokes the length of her with his tongue before pausing to press a gentle kiss to her clit.

Her hands find in his hair as he circles the spot.

“Gods.Yes. Right there.”

He takes his time tasting her. Coaxing the weave is a specific art, one that requires such careful use of the tongue. It’s a skill he’s built over many years and one he can use right now- pulling pleasures grander than any magic from her body. He adjusts his technique as he goes, using the pitch of her cries to guide him.

His thumb takes over against her clit as he slowly presses his tongue inside her.

Her thighs clamp down against his head as she comes. He continues to thrust in and out as she rides her high, leaving him wondering how a litany of curses can sound so sweet coming from her lips. 

He’s back on her before she has time to catch her breath, kissing her swollen clit again and drawing it between his lips. He presses a hand just under her navel, finding a new rhythm with his mouth as she writhes under him. 

He isn’t sure how long he stays there, licking and massaging, feeling her finish again and again and again until tears well like burning stars in her eyes.

He could stop now. The ache in his jaw and shoulders are certainly begging him to. So many others would probably be more than satisfied having felt her come the first couple of times, but he knows he’s not there yet. Not until he’s sure that his name and this night are rooted in her memory as strongly as the magic inside her.

When the dust of his sacrifice has long since cooled and tales of this adventure are strummed by the city’s bards, he cares not if his involvement boils down to one line. The wizard that made his mistakes have meaning. It’s her version of the story that matters. The one she’ll keep to herself. The one that years in the future, she may find herself thinking of on quieter nights. That amongst the blood and steel and dirt, she’ll remember softer lips, careful hands, the shape of fireside stories told with words long since forgotten. And hopefully, when those memories flicker just right, that she was loved desperately and completely.

Even if the face of the man who’d said it has been worn away.

He returns focus between her thighs, licking with renewed vigour until her exhausted pleasure reverberates like a hymn between the sheets.

There’s one more thing he’d like her to remember, something entirely selfish but it would be a lie to say it’s not driving him just as hard right now. In a month or a season or a year when she takes a new lover, there’ll be that brief moment where her mind will wander, wondering if anyone can bring her to the heights that he was able to in a single night. 

She tugs his hair and he finally pulls back from her quivering flesh. He can only imagine his face right now- eyes bright, breaths ragged, chin shining with the evidence of her pleasure. What he’d give for a mirror so he can see himself truly undone for her.

He kisses the inside of her thigh. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Gods no, I -“ her words catch as he sucks the skin just hard enough to leave a mark. “We have all night,” she finally gasps out. 

He rubs the purple spot and climbs over her again. “Yes we do. And I intend to use every moment of it.”

He rolls to the side and pulls her back flat to his chest. He kisses her throat and rubs the planes of her body until she relaxes soft as water against him.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs as his hands brush over her breasts, cupping them gently. She throws her head back as he rubs his thumb over her nipple and kisses down the curve of her throat. 

His lips stop when they reach a scattering of familiar pin-prick scars. The marks left from Astarion’s bites.

It’s the first time he’s seen them so close and he’s a little surprised at just how many there are. Most are faded, but a few are pinker and clearly still healing. Something grumbles in his throat when he notices a pair closer to her collarbone. They’re raised and swollen, probably less than a day old.

He knows it’s just a means to an end. She’d assured him as such when he’d found her woozily staggering around after the first time. But here, with the taste of her pleasure on his tongue and her skin against his hands, he feels oddly bitter about it.

He covers the marks with his mouth and, in a sudden flush of possessiveness, bites down hard. Her shocked little squeak echoes between the curtains. He immediately lets go, but she grabs his head and pushes his mouth back down before he can even think to apologise. He follows her lead, sucking and nipping his own marks into the skin until he knows a bouquet of purple bruises are going to shine there for everyone to see come morning. 

He smiles at the thought as his palm drifts down to cup her sex.

She bucks against him, moaning as he presses a finger inside her. His breath leaves him in a long sigh as she thrusts down, working herself against his touch. He lets her find her own rhythm, enjoying the tight slick heat as he adds another finger. 

Tav cries out again, one hand cupping the back of his neck, the other flying down to cover his own. He kisses her jaw as she moves faster and gently presses her over-sensitive clit with his thumb.

Her back slams against his chest. Her thrusts are rough and jerky against his fingers, but her answering cry is different. It’s barely audible, but he catches the whisper as it brushes past her lips like a prayer.

“Gale.”

His hand immediately stops. 

He rolls over, removing his hand and settling himself between her thighs in one quick movement.

“Say that again,” he whispers, pressing himself against her heat until she sighs and shivers under him.

Her smile softens. She touches his temple, then his cheek, leaning up to kiss her answer against his mouth. “My Gale.”

Before he can react, she’s hooking her leg to his hip and rolling them over again. She brushes her lips to his forehead as she grips his erection and slowly eases herself onto him.

His hands clamp over her waist and it takes every iron-wrought fibre of his self-control not to finish right then and there. 

Her mouth falls open as she fully seats herself. He can already feel the curve of her lips spilling into his dreams: red and wet and parted with desire. It’s a heady sight.

He heaves himself up as she slowly starts to move, letting his mouth explore every inch of sweat-slick flesh he can find. She shudders harder as he brushes over her pulse, so he does it again, then one more time, groaning as her thrusts become more erratic.

The planes of their bodies glisten with the orb’s light. Gale briefly looks down to watch it brighten between them. It’s both salvation and extinction, the evidence of his own hubris burned like a death warrant in his skin. There hasn’t been a day since his fall where he hasn’t fantasised about clawing it out of his chest. 

He’s finding it hard to hold onto that feeling when it’s currently making Tav glow like the divine in his lap.

He closes his eyes and lets himself get lost in the feeling. Her mouth is everywhere, hot against his chest, his jaw, his ear. His fingers dig into her back as she softly bites the lobe.

When he pulls her face back to his, there’s something hanging between her teeth, small and glinting in the light. He stops moving when he realises it’s his earring. 

She doesn’t say anything as he takes it from her, but her eyes waver with uncertainty- waiting for his reaction.

He turns the star between his fingers. It’s slightly tarnished from years of wear and something burns right under the orb as he takes in every tiny scratch and imperfection.

They both know it’s more than just some trinket. It’s the emblem of magic itself, his everything, the person he’d been told he was ever since he’d been able to use his hands. And it’s Her. 

Mystra.

His chest burns harder.

Every night since she’d cast him out he’d thought of her. Her love. Her anger. How she’s still so intimately intertwined with his power just as the night and stars above. Once upon a time that thought had brought him some sense of comfort, that with every spell that crackled between his hands her eye may have been upon him, perhaps just long enough to feel his remorse. 

A year of silence that earned him. A year of stony unwavering devotion that he refused to shirk. Nights conjuring her visage, practising his apologies and admonitions, feeling those grey hairs lengthen under his own cold purple light. And when the sun finally warmed his robes again, there was a break in that silence, her final gift wrapped in Elminster’s resolute words.

Death. And then perhaps what she’d consider her forgiveness.

Gale drops the earring on the mattress and eases Tav onto her back. Her eyes squeeze shut as he thrusts harder, chasing that burning thread of their joint pleasure. Gone is the finesse of before, replaced with a darker, frantic want to feel her, love her and forget everything beyond the cradle of her arms.

He bites at the fruit of her lips, tastes her desire, then kisses that swollen curve as if he can press a lifetime of adoration into her skin.

She turns her face into the pillows but he guides it back to him, gently holding it there so he can watch every flicker of bliss as it rolls in waves over her. It’s a shameful want, but he needs to remember, to hold on, so that when this is done and she’s too far away to watch him burn, he can let the last thing he sees be someone who’d loved the whole of him. 

And perhaps, if he can cling onto those infinitely precious parts of her, something can bring them back together one day. Maybe after the universe has long since dimmed. 

“Wait- please.”

Her breathy cry pulls him from the thought. Her eyes are wide underneath his, her mouth half open with an unfinished thought. He slows his hips as she lifts herself and strokes the side of his face.

“I'm not letting you go, Gale. Not now. Not ever.”  

Her words are a whisper but their strength is clear, as steadfast as cliffs to the wind. He feels each one take root inside him. The promise of love, of someone so clearly ready to fight fate and the Gods for him- it’s so new and strangely wonderful. 

It threatens to break his heart all over again.

He takes her fingers and kisses each one before laying her down again.

“I know.”

She comes one last time with his name on her lips. He drinks the gasp from her, collapsing into her neck as he follows over the edge. She holds him through his final thrusts, humming softly against his hairline.

“That’s it. Let me feel you.”

He basks in the boneless feeling for a moment before pulling out, murmuring a spell so the mess between them disappears.

She chuckles and pulls him more comfortably onto her chest. The slowing beat of her heart drums a soft rhythm against his ear. He listens a while as he catches his breath, trying to centre his thoughts.

There’s a lot he wants to say, too much, speeches he’d written then rewritten in his mind as he’d sat waiting for her earlier. 

She runs a hand through his hair and the words catch behind his lips. It’s an unhurried movement, her fingers gently raking from the top of his head to the nape of his neck and then back. When her thumb caresses the tip of his ear, something hot forms in his throat.

He can’t recall the last time he’d been touched with such casual tenderness. Certainly not in Mystra’s embrace. Those arcane pleasures were so abstract and blindingly intense, there was never a moment to simply… feel. 

It’s then he realises: spending so many years making love as the Gods do, he’s half sure he’s forgotten what it feels like to actually be held. 

When he looks up, her eyes are trained to the canopy. He taps her collarbone until she blinks.  “What are you thinking about?” 

“Nothing.” Her voice is airy, her gaze still about a thousand realms away.

“That’s rather a lot of nothing that seems to be troubling you.”

She tugs his hair, rolling her eyes. 

He smiles and shifts over her, kissing the annoyance from her mouth until she finally relaxes again.

“Fine,” she murmurs, guiding his cheek back to her chest. “I was just wondering what the chances were that I’d actually end up here. If I’d stayed home that day or run faster or  hidden- I’d probably still be in Baldur’s Gate right now, none the wiser to any of this.” She sighs and starts stroking his hair again. “I’ve seen more of Faerûn than most people. I don’t think I’d even know this curse was basically on my doorstep if I hadn’t been captured.”

Gale nods. “Few have lived to tell the tale I presume. I doubt this is on anyone’s list of holiday destinations.” He brushes the cluster of freckles he found earlier, delighted at the gentle trail of goosebumps that follow. 

“It’s strange. I don’t think I regret it happening though. Not completely,” she continues quietly.

“Given what we’ve just done I can agree with that.”

She tugs his hair again, softer this time. 

“There’s still so much more I want to see,” she says.

“And you will. You don’t need to worry about that.” ‘Let me worry about that’ is what he doesn’t say. 

She hums her assent, gaze still lost to the material above. “I’ve never actually set foot in Waterdeep either. Maybe one day.”

His heart squeezes a little at the name. Home.

“You’d need more than a day, trust me. It’s called the City of Splendours for a reason,” he says, picturing that last lazy sunset he’d watched from his balcony. “There are ten-thousand things to see, a lifetime isn’t even enough time to appreciate all it has to offer.”

“Where would I even start?”

“I can always pen you a guide.”

“Or you can just show me.” She catches his eye as he lifts his head. “Not that I’m doubting your illusion didn’t do it justice but it would be nice to see that view properly.”

He tries not to let his smile falter. There’s no cruelty to her words; no hint that she’d forgotten what he’d told her before they’d kissed. He’s chosen his fate and even now she’s fighting him on it, like she has some grand plan up her sleeve stronger than the Netherese inferno waiting to detonate in his chest.

He sighs and holds her tighter. 

It would be a callous thing to argue. She’d wanted to make love in the real world, but between these curtains they can stay wrapped up in a different illusion until morning. They’ll both leave these lands. Alive. Together. 

He presses his lips to her heart. “Of course I will.”

Over the next hours, their conversation is slow and easy. He talks about everything and nothing until he feels her breathing even out and her grip relax against him. 

He should sleep. His body aches in a multitude of different ways but his mind won’t let him. 

One night of passion to sate his love, to give him something to hold onto as he followed Mystra’s command- that was the plan, the only plan he’d thought of. But now, lying in her arms and knowing she isn’t just going to stand back and let him end himself, he can feel that resolve crumbling.

He’d had his moment with her but it’s not enough, not even close. If he’s being honest with himself, he’d known that since he’d watched her walk through the image of his tower. She’d fit so easily, like she was made to be there. His illusions are good but it had set a deeper want inside him, to have her there for real. 

He can see it so clearly now: watching the sun brighten her skin on his balcony, introducing her to Tara properly, making love to her in his own bed-  could it be such a foolish thing to consider? 

His heart pounds harder and he feels his chest tighten again.

The orb is still an ever present danger. Even quelled right now, he knows Elminster’s spell is just a temporary stop- but it’s still time. If they defeat this Heart of Absolute another way, then he could hold on for weeks, maybe even months. It'll be enough to take her home and make some memories outside of this wretched adventure- give her something brighter to think on when she hears his name.

He swallows as he turns the picture over in his mind. He’d incur his Goddess’ ire a second time and potentially damn the world just to stay a little longer on this plane. 

The thought doesn’t taste so sour now- not if it’s with Tav. 

He’s a dead man walking either way. If there’s any chance he can fill those final days with love, no matter how infinitesimally small, he’s going to take it.

He closes his eyes and finally lets sleep take him.

For now his charge changes. For now, he’s choosing to live.

♥・。.。*♥*。.。·*♥*·。.。*♥*·。.。*♥*。.。·*♥

I actually think it makes complete sense for Gale to keep the earring the entire game buuuut I had this image of Tav pulling it off so... here we are.

This can kind of be read as a prequel to my other work: Stay , but isn't necessary reading.

[e-m-p-error]

[ @overangeled LIKED For A Starter ]

[ Valentino ]

Tonight was a night to wear colors he didn't usually. After all, it was a special occasion. Valentino's Day didn't come around often.

Soft pale pink fabric hugged his every curve, painted over his body from his chest to his ankles. The shoulderless dress had a thick fur band spanning half a foot over the neckline that hugged his upper arms as well, and the hem was just the same. There was a long slit up the left side, going nearly to his hip.

He couldn't be too modest, now, could he?

Matching pink peep-toe heels clung to his feet, adding an extra eight inches to his already impressive ten feet. The strap around his ankle was tied at the side with a pink ribbon, and the heel of the shoe was made of clear lucite. Fur poked out between a lucite cage, the same pink as the fur on the foot and ankle bands.

Both lower wrists were decorated with thick gold bands and thinner ones wrapped around his upper biceps twice. Around his neck was a beautiful golden collar with a pink heart lock holding the two sides of it together. It was dotted with rich pink diamonds and luscious red rubies.

Finishing off the look with the gold-to-pink fade of his eyeshadow and a sharp wing of eyeliner, he was happy with what he'd done. Pursing his pink, glossy lips at himself in his compact mirror, he closed it and popped it into his clutch purse.

It was now or never.

Taking a few steps out into the courtyard below Angel's balcony, he turned sharply on the balls of his feet and cupped his upper hands around his mouth.

"Angie! We're gonna be late!"

[ashenberry]

[ID: two digital illustrations.

The first one is of a brown catgirl. She is wearing a purple sweatshirt with a star shaped boob window and turtle neck, as well as a light purple skirt that fades into a pale yellow, and thigh high socks. She has long curly purple hair that fades into white, cat ears that are white at the tip, and a yellow tail that fades into purple. She has a purple cat nose and white eyes with yellow sclera. She is smiling, looking to the right. and has both her hands on her knees.

The second one is of a humanoid rat girl. She has grey fur and pink skin at the ears, hands, and tail. She has 2 piercings in her ear and one in her nose. She is wearing a red crop top and pants, with strips of purple fabric hanging off the top and a brown belt around her pants. She has big purple arm warmers and a purple collar with a gold ring around it. She has long purple hair that is green at the end. She has one hand on her hip and the other raised up to chest height in a fist. she is looking away from the viewer slightly, smiling.

end ID]

im so excited for artfight that i completely forgot i am capable of drawing my friends ocs whenever i feel like it actually

Astraea (left) belongs to @counterfeitubiquity Bruiser (right) belongs to @sideordered

[emilypaul1608]

What are the best outfits for a professional corporate look?

When it comes to dressing for a professional corporate environment, selecting the right outfits can make a significant impact on how you are perceived in the workplace. Your attire can convey confidence, competence, and professionalism. Whether you are attending an important meeting, giving a presentation, or simply going about your daily tasks at the office, a well-chosen outfit can set the right tone. Here are some of the best outfits for a professional corporate look that will help you feel confident and make a great impression.

Classic Suit

A classic suit is a staple in any professional wardrobe and is often considered the gold standard for corporate attire. For both men and women, a well-tailored suit in neutral colors such as black, navy, or gray can create a sharp and sophisticated look. For men, pairing a suit jacket with matching trousers and a crisp white or light-colored shirt creates a clean and polished appearance. Women can opt for a pantsuit or a skirt suit, paired with a tailored blouse.

Investing in high-quality fabrics such as wool or a wool blend can ensure the suit maintains its shape and appearance over time. For added versatility, consider purchasing a three-piece suit that includes a matching vest, allowing you to mix and match depending on the formality of the occasion.

Blazers and Trousers

If you prefer a slightly more relaxed look while still maintaining professionalism, consider pairing a blazer with tailored trousers. This combination allows for a variety of styling options and can be easily adapted to suit different office environments. A structured blazer adds formality and sophistication, while tailored trousers in neutral or muted colors keep the outfit grounded in professionalism.

Men can wear a blazer with dress pants and a button-down shirt, adding a tie for a more formal look or going without one for a more casual office setting. Women have the flexibility to experiment with different blouse styles, such as a silk camisole or a collared shirt, tucked into high-waisted trousers for a flattering silhouette.

Pencil Skirts and Blouses

For women, pencil skirts paired with blouses are a timeless choice that balances femininity with professionalism. Pencil skirts that fall just above or below the knee in neutral colors like black, navy, or beige are versatile and appropriate for most corporate settings.

Pairing the skirt with a well-fitted blouse in a complementary color or subtle pattern can add personality to your outfit without compromising on professionalism. Consider blouses with details like ruffles, bows, or pleats for a touch of elegance. Adding a belt can also accentuate the waist and add a layer of sophistication to the ensemble.

Dress Shirts and Slacks

Dress shirts and slacks are foundational pieces in a corporate wardrobe for both men and women. A crisp, white dress shirt is a classic choice, but you can also explore other colors like light blue, pink, or subtle patterns such as pinstripes or checks to add variety.

Men can pair their dress shirts with tailored slacks and add a tie or pocket square for a polished look. Women can opt for slacks with a straight or slightly tapered leg and tuck in their dress shirt for a sleek, streamlined appearance. High-quality cotton or cotton blend fabrics are recommended for their breathability and comfort.

Sheath Dresses

Sheath dresses offer a simple yet elegant option for women seeking a professional corporate look. These dresses are typically fitted and fall just above or below the knee, making them ideal for a conservative office environment. Neutral tones like black, navy, and gray are always safe choices, but you can also experiment with jewel tones such as emerald or burgundy for a pop of color.

Pair a sheath dress with a tailored blazer for added formality, and accessorize with minimalistic jewelry to complete the look. Closed-toe pumps or flats are the perfect footwear choice to maintain the professional aesthetic.

Cardigans and A-Line Skirts

For a more business-casual approach that still exudes professionalism, consider pairing a cardigan with an A-line skirt. A fitted cardigan can provide warmth and a polished look, especially when buttoned up and layered over a blouse. A-line skirts are flattering on most body types and offer a comfortable alternative to pencil skirts.

Choose skirts in solid colors or subtle prints, and balance them with a neutral cardigan. This combination works well for women who prefer a bit more comfort while maintaining a professional appearance. Complete the outfit with ballet flats or low-heeled shoes for all-day comfort.

Accessories to Enhance the Professional Look

Accessories play a crucial role in completing your corporate attire and can add personality to your outfit without overpowering it. For men, a classic watch, cufflinks, and a tie in a complementary color can elevate a suit or blazer look. Women can opt for simple jewelry such as stud earrings, a delicate necklace, or a bracelet.

A structured handbag or a leather briefcase can also enhance your professional look. Ensure that your accessories are minimalist and understated to maintain the focus on your attire and overall appearance.

Footwear Choices for a Corporate Environment

The right footwear is essential for completing your professional corporate look. Men should choose classic dress shoes like oxfords or loafers in black or brown leather, depending on the color of their suit or trousers. Women have the option of wearing closed-toe pumps, kitten heels, or ballet flats, all of which provide comfort and professionalism.

When choosing footwear, consider the dress code of your workplace and opt for shoes that are both stylish and comfortable enough to wear throughout the day. High-quality leather shoes are a worthwhile investment, as they offer durability and a polished appearance.

Conclusion

Creating a professional corporate look is all about choosing outfits that convey confidence, competence, and a sense of style. Whether you prefer a classic suit, a combination of blazers and trousers, or more feminine options like pencil skirts and sheath dresses, the key is to select clothing that fits well and is appropriate for your work environment. By incorporating the right accessories and footwear, you can enhance your professional appearance and feel ready to take on any corporate challenge.

[ava1anti]

Paris Haute Couture ss23 - favourites

22 - I love the contrast between the left arm, which is fully concealed, and the right collar and shoulder which entirely exposed

21 - TEXTURE. I love how the fabric has been manipulated to create the impression of waves, I think it’s so smart

20 - I just really enjoy the colour contrast and the mixture of leather and fluffy textures

19 - I love the pink with the green, I think it’s very bold whilst not being too overpowering

18 - I just really enjoy the placement of the design - on the shoulders, then on the shirt, it‘a a really nice use of the negative plain space between

17 - I just this this dress is so effective, especially in the red

16 - the fur across the shoulders is really effective - the whole garment reminds me of Norse mythology, and the Valkyries

15 - I love the texture in the torso, and the scales coming down the arm are just so nice

14 - I love the material, I think it flows really nicely and alongside the beads/crystals, there was just a very alluring sense to the outfit as they walked

13 - I’ve never liked the garments at fashion week that have headpieces like this, but I really enjoy this piece. I think the plain cape works so well against the textured body suit

12 - I really like the cut of this dress, and the slight colour shift down the middle is really effective

11 - reminds me of what the characters in Winx club would wear, I just really like it

10 - makes me think of a ballgown a character would wear in a fantasy series

09 - I love black against neon green, and the subtle green in the body of the dress really caught my eye

08 - this dress is what I would show someone to describe ‘Barbie’ and I love for it

07 - I love how simple and sleek and elegant this is

06 - this garment has a great sense of movement to it and I think the gold and pink work really well against each other

05 - reminds me of the DC character poison ivy. I just think it’s a great colour combination an the almost splatter effect of the purple is really striking

04 - makes me think of a goddess. The shoulder piece reminds me of Nike.

03 - I think the red coat is so very effective, in hindsight it kind of has Taylor Swift vibes but I loved it the moment the model walked out

02 - very regal, the colours work so well. I could see this at the met gala

01 - only wins over 02 because I would wear this tomorrow if I could. I love the massive fur coat and think it creates a nice silhouette with the very sleek leggings. I also surprisingly like how the boots both suit and clash slightly

[love-fireflysong]

It’s Wednesday baby, so here’s a sewing update of all the shit I’ve been able to do since posting that pic of my pile of fabric and notions last week!

Day 1 (10am - 1pm): pre-wash fabric and cut out the fusible interfacing

Day 2: (10am - 1pm) pre-wash the rest of the fabric and cut out more fabric (the pink, the gold, and half the grey)

Day 3: (12pm - 12am) finally finished cutting everything else (rest of the grey, the black, stiff netting, and sewable interfacing) after kneeling on concrete for 12 hours (it hurt to bend and sit the rest of the night lol)

Day 4: (1pm - 10pm) start finally pinning and sewing the bolero! yay! managed to complete the entire outer portion and by the time I quit all I had left of the lining was to attach the sleeves (shoulders now hurt so bad from leaning over a sewing machine for close to 12 hours jashdksajhd).

Day 5: (11am - 1pm) attached the sleeves and pinned the lining to the outer facing

Day 6: (10am - 1pm) sewing the lining and facing together and turned inside out. did some minor tacking in the shoulders so the lining wouldn’t shift and sewed half of the collar before my work alarm went off

Day 7: (10am - 1pm) finished the collar off as well as closing the big ass hole in the center of the lining (had to turn it inside out somehow lol!) and attaching the lining of the wrists to the facing. Plus I managed to add some trim to one wrist.

And here’s some pics as proof that I kinda-sorta know what I’m doing lmao.

All that’s left now on the bolero is to add trim to the other wrist, the entire bottom edge, and along the edge of the popped collar and neck. All that’s needed after that is to add the clasps to the front of the jacket so it closes and it will be done! (May or may not post a pic of what it looks like worn once that happens. Who knows!) Crossing my fingers that I manage to finish those steps in the next couple of days so when the weekend rolls around I can center completely on the corset!

[venenatd]

last meal; jean kirstein x reader

summary: you and jean are in a relationship, and finally get some private time for a cute picnic date the day before he goes on the mission to marley. it’s v cute but also ur both horny!

content: smut / nsfw 18+. minors dni. (public/outdoors sex, dracylphilya, size kink, fingering, thigh riding, use of “good girl/baby”, praise kink, female bodied reader, unprotected sex, creampie) some fluff for good measure.

i am new to this pls let me know if i should add anything!!

word count: 3.3k words of unedited content

a/n: i saw a cottage core inspired jean post and this idea immediately popped into my head. i also kept thinking back to the sunset blush scene and it felt destined lmao. i thought it was gonna be shorter but i guess i get carried away lol. pls feel free to send me requests or ideas or give any advice on what you liked!! thanku!<3

Everything is painted with gold. The sun hanging low in the sky, despite the late hour, still warms your skin. You and Jean walk away from the Scout Headquarters, warmth of the evening allowing you to roam without coats. 

He’s in a tight cream shirt, braces holding up darker toned pants. A simple hat sits on his head, shading his eyes from the setting sun. You, a simple sage dress, loose and flowing around your legs. The long grass tickles your flesh, and the two of you laugh as you try running through the field, lifting your limbs stupidly high to jump over the pasture. 

Jean snorts at you, watching you flap around. The orange hue of dusk makes your hair shine, your skin glow beautifully. And as you look up at him, a wide and goofy smile spreading across your face, he can see all the flecks and details of varying colours in your eyes. And it takes his breath away. 

It was the last night before the end. He’s not sure of what, but it feels like the next chapter is to be finished when he closes his eyes tonight. Tomorrow he goes to Marley. Hange ordered all of their team to go relax for the final day at home. “We’ve gone over the plans enough, we know every angle! Go! Shoo!”

Hange was right. Going in and getting Eren home. It was engrained in Jeans brain. The scouts knew everything they were going to before they arrived. So tonight, it’s all about you.

You, with your skirt floating around you as you weave between trees, making your way to the clearing the two of you know so well. It’s where he first admitted feelings, where you first kissed. The others don’t know (or so you both think), and until he’s safe from his last mission, you’re not sure the two of you will ever reveal your affiliation. 

Pulling a blanket from the picnic basket you’ve brought with you, Jean lays it down on the ground. There’s a wide pond in front of you both, some ducks still paddling about. A thin haze floats over the water, the last of the summer heat still encouraging dragonflies and water skippers out. 

The light snacks you’d managed to sneak out from your job in the kitchen were delicious. You’d whipped up some light pastries and desserts from leftover ingredients. Even some strawberries and grapes. Whilst everything was miniscule from lack of provisions, it tasted good enough. 

Dipping the sweet red fruit from the cream and sugar and between your lips, Jean is in heaven. Your hair being pushed by the wind away from your face, the rosiness on your cheeks. The world may end tomorrow, but tonight he’s got all he needs.

His hands reach over, noticing the drip of cream collecting on the corner of your lips. Swiping his thumb along your cheek, he notes “you’ve got a lil..”

Jean looks at you, his eyes locking on yours, still gently cupping your face in his hands. Warm pupils flick down. His brows scrunch together for a moment, before he moves forward. His other hand comes up to your face, and he is so gentle when he kisses you. It’s as if he may break you if he goes too far.

The soft plush of his lips on yours, slowly pulling you in is intoxicating. He leans back on his forearms, pulling you over him, not letting you leave his mouth. You knock into his hat, it flopping off behind him as you lower your chest over his.

A hand reaches to his chestnut hair. It’s grown long over the last few years. You play with tendrils, the two of you lazily kissing. It’s soft and easy. You’re breathing into one another your chest resting on his as you move a leg to intertwine with his. 

Shifting yourself slightly, you rest directly above his thigh. Jeans hand comes to the back of your neck, making sure you don’t split the contact he so desperately needs. Your nails slide softly against his scalp, twisting into his hair with more want. 

The man, your man, underneath you curls forward, leg lifting and chest pushing up into you. Your crotch bumps against his thigh. A delightful little gasp erupts from you. If Jean wasn’t tongue deep in your mouth he could have even missed it. But he is, and he didn’t. 

He’s tempted to see how far he can take this, maybe make another first here. You’ve had sex, and plenty of it. Although for the most part it’s been rushed, the nature of your jobs only allowing for quickies. You both lived in shared rooms, and the lack of privacy was definitely a roadblock in his attempts to please you.

This clearing, in the outside meadows by headquarters, is maybe an ironic place for the privacy you both so need. Putting any doubt out of his mind, Jean lifts his muscular thigh, achieving another gasp into his mouth from you. You grind against it slowly, tentatively.

“No need to be shy, baby girl” he smiles into the kiss.

Cheeks rosy, you roll your hips along his leg. Jeans body rises further, leaning back casually on one hand, the other gripping the flesh between your waist and hip. He breaks the kiss that has been going on so long, wanting to take in all the ways your face displays pleasure. 

Your eyebrows knit together slightly. Your lips are wet with saliva, slightly parted as you give off little mewls each time your clothed cunt is brushed along his cotton pants. 

There’s a sweet and tender feeling building in your lower stomach. You can feel how wet you’re getting, the slow and methodical undulations generating a heat between your thighs. 

“Jean, plea-”

“You want more?” he’s quick to answer. Your head jumps and up and down, past the point of playing shy. 

His long fingers meet with your jaw once more, lightly skimming your features. He’s noting it all down in his head. Maybe he’ll even make a drawing of you. You pause in your ministrations, and a low tutting comes from the man. “No, no. Keep riding. Get yourself ready.” 

A delicious smile emerges on your face, and you bear down on his thigh. You take your hands on each leg, gripping onto the thickly built muscle underneath the cloth. A couple of fingers miss their mark, and you can feel how hard Jean is getting. Eyes flash between his crotch and his face, and he can sense how eager you are to please him. 

His touch moves from your jaw down, one finger slowly running along the centre of your throat. Jeans hand dips, slowly dragging his fingernails across each collar bone, down to the valley of your chest. Your breath hitches, and he moves away again. You shift your hand in response, moving it towards the joint between his thigh and pelvis, allowing your fingers to brush his clothed balls.

Wherever his fingers move leaves a tingling in their wake. They push towards your shoulder, teasing the fabric from each one. Your dress pools a little, allowing him to make his way back, this time taking your breast in his hand. Thumb brushes against your puffy buds, and a finger meets it to squeeze lightly.

Jean fully lifts off the blanket, sat up straight. He makes quick work of your dress, pulling it down and pushing it up. He grabs at your legs, going between light caresses and tight grasps, not knowing which to settle with. Finally he finds purchase in your ass, guiding you back and forth over his thigh.

You moan into his mouth, fully succumbing to the wetness surely dampening through your panties, the feeling of his fingers twisting and teasing your pert nipples. He raises his fingers from your chest, using his thumb on your lower lip to apply gentle pressure. 

Breaking the trail of saliva that connects you both, he pushes an index finger between your lips. You’re all too eager to suck on it, eyes looking dutifully at him. He inhales sharply between his teeth. His cock is so hard, so desperate to fuck into you. Jean wants it to be slow and beautiful, but he simply needs to have you. He wants you close to him before he leaves and doesn’t know if he’ll come back. And close means being inside you, hearing you in your purest form. 

The dusky pink settling on his cheeks could be the sun, low in the sky, filling the meadow with rich hues. 

Your moans could not be interpreted so wholesomely.

Fingers wet with your spit, he moves his hand between your legs, under the skirt. Pushing your panties to the side he lets you ride his palm for a moment. Teasing yourself, teasing your clit on his strong hand. He goes deeper, fingers sliding through your folds. He slips through your folds, resting at your entrance, before allowing your hips to rise and him to push knuckle deep inside you.

You reddened lips form a perfect ‘o’, and the bliss on your face is one he will remember forever. His thumb moves to your clit. Still on top of him, Jean watches you fuck yourself on his fingers. He kisses your neck, your chest. Taking your nipples and sucking, biting, nibbling. 

Your walls are closing in on him, before gently relaxing and he can tell you’re close. 

“Don’t be shy” Jean reissues his earlier statement. But now it’s far huskier, far more commanding. “I want to hear you, y/n. I want to hear you cum.” 

You’re watching his face, the words - orders - tumble from his lips. They make you flutter around his fingers. You murmur out tiny please’s. 

“What did I say? Louder, y/n.”

You moan against his neck, “please.”

Jean pulls your hair, making you extend your neck, forcing you to look up to the hues of pink and orange. “Louder.”

You’re so close. “Jean, p- please!” 

“Good girl.”

With that he’s flicking his thumb over your clit, fucking his fingers up into your cunt. The sounds of liquid and wetness only add to the noises of you cumming. Pussy clenching around his fingers, hips giving way and as your legs start to burn and shake. Jean holds you up, working you through your orgasm. He wants nothing more than to watch you fall apart, moaning his name. And then whining curses as you become oversensitive. Yet your gummy walls still suck him in, begging for more.

Leaving your tight walls, he brings the fingers to his lips. You taste tarte and sweet. Better than strawberries any day.

Your breaths are heavy as he twists the two of you, resting you with your back on the blanket. You are radiant. A green halo of grass above you, the dusting of pink on your cheeks, your lips kiss-swollen.

Jean pushes your skirt up, eyes trained on yours as you rest on your elbows. Your eyes follow his movements. How his tongue wets his lips before he drags them on your inner thigh. How his fingers dig in to pull you closer towards him. 

He pulls off your sodden panties, kissing into your hips, your belly. Jean is slow and deliberate. As much as he wants to be deep within you, he’s never had the chance to enjoy you this slowly before. 

He rises, kissing your breasts as they spill from the top of your dress. His tongue paints saliva on your lips before slipping between them. The kiss is intense. It’s deep and sloppy and so needy. 

Your hand reaches to his shoulders, thumb slipping underneath his braces pulling them off. Hands slip under his shirt, and he quickly helps you pull it off. His muscles are firm and taught, the amount of work his body has been through over the years evident underneath your fingers. You trail fingertips over stripes of knotted flesh, kissing each mark and scar after your hands move onto the next one. 

“You’re beautiful, Jean”

Jeans cheeks go rosy and he smiles so bashfully that it breaks you apart. The lopsided grin makes you pull him back into you, teeth bumping together as you giggle into the kiss. 

He unbuttons his pants, pushing them far enough down his thighs to allow more friction as he grinds into you. Jean is noticeably straining his underwear, his member long and hard. You move your hand down to cup him, squeezing gently through the cotton. You tug on his cock, leaving him stuttering into your mouth. Holding him just tightly enough, he ruts his hips into your hand, little sighs escaping his mouth into your hair. 

Tucking your hand under the fabric, you pull out his dick. It makes your hand look smaller, Jean’s member long and hard. The pink tip is slick with precum, and your thumb brushes his head slightly, earning a little hiss. 

You go from light little touches to harsher ones. Fingers brushing against the veins on his length, before you wrap around him again. He’s whining in your ear, “you like playing with my cock? Seeing what you do to me?” 

With hooded eyelids you look at his contorting face and whisper “yes, yes. I want to please you, I want to make you feel good.” 

“Such a good girl for me.”

Taking his member, you push the tip against the heat between your legs. Teasing your clit with his head, he looks down to watch you work. Precum lightly sheens over your folds, and fuck, Jean can’t wait to add to it. 

“I w-want you so bad Jean.” 

“You have all of me.” 

You hold him against your entrance, the tip of him just resting at your little hole. Pulling him in a little, he pushes against the first tight ring. It’s always intense letting Jean fuck you, making you so full. You rock your hips up, letting him slip out a little, before grinding back down. It pulls him into you so sensually. He moans unashamedly as you control the pleasure you both receive. 

Repeating the action, you lift again, pushing him out, and again tightening your stomach muscles to curl and bring him deeper inside you. His golden eyes are trained on where you’re conjoined. 

He’s halfway inside you, stretching your tight walls so much already. Jean sits back, moving his tongue around inside his mouth before letting a ball of spit fall where his cock rests inside of you. Spreading it on his length, he helps you the rest of the way. Letting your eyes widen and gasp of surprise (how are you always surprised by the feeling?) as he fully sheaths himself inside you. 

“God, you’re so tight,” he holds himself above you, head falling back as he inhales slowly.

Jean allows you a moment to breath, before he pulls back out, quickly snapping his hips back to yours. Moans tumble out of your mouth as he fucks into you. Lashes fluttering and your tits bouncing in rhythm, you are a sight for the sorest of eyes.

“You’re so pretty for me, all splayed out on my cock.” 

He pushes your legs apart, watching his length disappear inside you. Watching how one hand twists your own nipple, the other feebly trying to grab onto his wrist. He’s splitting you apart on his dick, the feeling of being so fucking full taking over. You were already sensitive from your last orgasm, but he builds another, the tightening in your core unmistakable. 

“J- Jean,” you hiccup, so overwhelmed by him. “You’re s- so big” 

“You’re taking me so well, y/n.” 

He lowers himself against your chest, bringing his knees upwards and closer to your ass. You curl up around him, holding your legs further up. Jean quickly renegotiates the position, pulling your legs around him whilst you hold under your knees. You can feel him so deep inside you this way, pulled into a ball underneath him. Jean wants to be impossibly close, and this new angle is punishing on your pussy. He can feel how wet you are between you, how much you enjoy the intensity of his cock working in and out. 

His forehead presses against yours, his hand snaking between you two. From his new angle, he can hit that sweet spot inside you so easily. His length sweeps against it, and hits into your furthest wall. He lets out curses as he feels your cunt tighten each time, mixing with the moans and mewls from you. You lock eyes with him, big doe eyes pricking. 

“Pl- please, I’m so close, Jean.”

Fat tears roll over your cheek, trailing to your temple. Everything feels too much. Him inside of you, the wet squelching between you. His strong fingers rubbing over your clit again and again. You let out a sob, followed by a moan. It’s a combination of knowing this is the last night, feeling how fucking intense his cock is inside you, hearing how much Jean needs you. He kisses your cheeks, tasting the salt, not faltering as he continues to pummel into you. 

“You’re doing so good, baby.”

His balls slap against your skin. 

“You can do it.” 

His teeth bite at the flesh of your breast, pull at your nipples.

“I want to hear you.”

His fingers play and roll with your clit, feeling the way you tighten around his cock.

“Please cum for me, y/n.”

Your back arches off the blanket, the night sky soaking up the moans. The lewd noises in between you both are all consuming, the slap of slick and wetness only adding to your full body sensation. 

His fingers keep moving on your clit, and Jean grunts each time your pussy spasms around his cock. He keeps pace, fucking you raw and with need. He loves to see your delicate face scrunched up, eyes rolling back and mouth unable to close. 

And with the tightening of your walls around him, Jean’s close. “Where do you want me?” 

“I want,” you inhale sharply, as his cock drives back into you, “you inside me- I- I need you Jean. Please.”

“You’re so good, baby, you’re so good.” He’s getting quicker, making you writhe beneath him in your overstimulated state. “I’ll give you what you want, okay? I’m going to cum inside your pretty pussy.” 

Jeans fingers are going to bruise you. He's holding onto you so tight, never wanting to let you go. It’ll be something to remember him by. Movements are starting to stammer, the sweat evident by the sheen forming across his shoulders and face. You tuck a tendril of his honey hair behind his ear. “I love you”, you whisper amongst the moans. And with that he pushes deep enough to make you cry out, feeling the hot ropes of cum painting your walls. 

Your man rests inside you for a moment, gathering his breath as he leaves languid kisses against your breasts, your jaw, your lips. He pulls out, seeing his cum drip from your pussy. Using his fingers he pushes the white around your folds, earning a sharp his when he brushes past your clit. Finally, he brings his fingers to your lips, and you put out a delicate tongue. 

Cleaning him with your mouth, he sits back, sighing softly. How can you be this good? And you like him? Jean thinks he is the luckiest man on earth. He adjusts your dress for comfortability, before dipping next to you. Your heads are lightly touching, your hair intertwined with his. Staring up at the sky as the last colour leaves it in its inkiness, he holds you close. He presses his final kiss on your forehead. 

“I love you too.” 

[nonbinaryeggrolls]

Sweet Holy Honey pt. 1

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4

Nanami Kento x POC!Reader

Inspired by the song “Sweet Holy Honey” by Xavier Omar and Sango

Synopsis: To keep up with bills you take up a part time job as a stripper/waitress at a gentlemans club in downtown Kyoto under the stage name "Honey". Most days you have to deal with your perverted boss, slobby and drunk old dudes, bachelors, ceos, and college assholes, but every now and then the special customer comes in. He wears a neat beige suit, blue button up shirt, and an unforgettable cougar print tie.

Warnings: SMUT, angst, emotional and physical abuse, cussing, drug use, slight yandere behavior but Nanami isn’t dangerous or violent towards Y/N just obsessed

A/N: This is a normal AU where Nanami and the rest of the JJK characters just have regular jobs/lives

A/N: Just a little note, when you see Y/N and other girls names being italicised it means it's not their real name, it's their stripper name

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

"Another round bunny girls!"

babbled the drunk frat boy. God you hated when the young ones came in, the Bunny Room just opened and already they were obnoxious, destructive, and too eager to grab you in all the wrong places. On the bright side, they never tipped you anything less than 50 dollars so you couldn't complain too much since they basically paid your rent. They had pockets full of daddy's money to spend and you were more than happy to take it from them.

Midnight: "Uggch, wanna take this one Honey, I cant take anymore of their gross ass axe body spray smell." she said leaning against the door of the back room

Y/N: "Might as well, the guys tonight have been such stingy tippers, you know one guy tried to tip me in baseball cards?!" You stood up adjusting the ends of your latex bunny suit

Midnight: "You're lying!! What a ass cheap bi—

It wasn't long before your boss came barging through the door like a madman

Kota: "Oh please don't let me interrupt your conversations, please continue talking while I lose the customers that pay YOUR bills," the slob of a man stood their in his ugly gray suit that was two sizes to small on top of a white tank top and a gold chain necklace, "All of you get your asses out there and shake some ass for those virgins at table 6!"

You all rolled your eyes in annoyance but proceeded to do as you were told. All together you got dressed in your different colored costumes, each to match your stage name. Quickly you slid the fabric of your honeycomb colored ensemble over the curves of your body and put on your matching bunny ears.

When you all finally exited with trays of cocktails in each hand you were met with cheers and hollers, some nice and some lewd but you didn't care what they said as long as they paid you after. The table Kota assigned you tonight was a bunch of college frat boys, it was obvious they had just turned 21 the hunger in their eyes gave it away.

Bubblegum: "Did you order the Sunset Rum on the rocks sweetie?" She asked the boy closest to her. He nodded and she leaned over being sure to push as much exposed breast into the young mans face as she could

Y/N: "Such a big order huh Bubblegum? he must have big..." you pulled him in close by his collar, "money..." you whispered seductively

The young man blushed profusely, smiling like a love struck teenager as he looked back and forth between your bodysuit and Bubblegums hot pink one. He rummaged through his wallet as quickly as he could to dig out two fifty dollar bills and hand them to you both

"You want us to put them away ourselves? I thought you liked us baby?" You both guided each of his hands to the space between your beasts and slid in the $50 bills for him while his friends erupted in whoops and cheers. The longer his hands stayed submerged the larger the tent in his trousers grew, making his face burn hot red

"You-You're so hot H-Honey...c-can you dance for me?" He shifted in his seat to give himself some friction. The other boys soon aching for the same action, cueing Bubblegum to take her place on the pole on the table

You handed your tray of drinks off to Cherry, her bright red suit and red pumps shining under the room lights as she walked away back to her assigned table. Slowly you positioned over his lap and grinded your lower half against his making his erection only stronger. You moved your hips to match the rhythm of the music in the room. The way you maneuvered your body was so precise and alluring, when his hands journeyed across your chest to your hips it was like they had a mind of their own. It was clear why you were the most requested Bunny at the club.

Kota: "Honey! Waiting room 4, now!" He interrupted, grabbing your arm and yanking you off his lap, “H-Hey! I payed for a dance you can't just stop her midway!"

Kota: "Yeah? Pay $400 for her then you can talk..."

You mouthed sorry to the poor boy but at least they had Bubblegum to finish the rest of the night with. You tried your best to be upset at Kota for interrupting you, but all you could think was "Who the hell would pay $400 for me?" The fact that you were the most popular Bunny usually meant a standard of $400 a night, but the idea of one singular person paying that much for you was absurd, it gave you a since of nervousness you hadn't felt sense you first started working at the Bunny Room

Kota: "For $400 you better do whatever he wants" he threatened before pulling the curtain open and motioning you into the room. It was lit with a low yellow hue and paired with seductive music to match the mood. On the black leather couch sat a man in a beige suit that was far nicer than what your customers usually wore. His blue button up was unbuttoned slightly and a cougar print tie hung low around his neck

Honey: "Stressful day at work handsome?" you inquired, he said nothing just looking at you with an intimidating gaze. You sauntered over and placed yourself between his legs, caressing him up from his calves to his knees and all the way up to his thighs

Honey: “Not a big talker eh?” You stood back up and placed yourself on his lap, now looking at him eye to eye, “…or are you just a little shy?” You let out a low giggle as you caressed his smooth jawline.

Nanami: "I'm not a pervert...", he sighed as if he needed to prove that fact to himself, "...I just need a distraction."

You stood up looking down at him and climbed into his lap, letting his deep brown eyes match yours

Y/N: "I can be anything you want mister" you whispered into his ear before beginning your performance. Your body moved against his making him harder and harder, the warmth making him shudder and groan.

You did everything he wanted, for the price he was paying —plus the extra 100's he kept sliding in your bra throughout the dance— you made sure to go above and beyond. Luckily he wasn't a creep and didn't demand many things out of you...just a dance. After about 30 minutes, the damp spot on his pants signified he was satisfied.

Nanami: "I-I apologize for that, it was inappropriate", he said as you stood up

Y/N: "Don't be it's totally okay hun!", you giggled, "Guys cumming in their pants is a normal occurrence in this profession, as long as you don't try and fuck us or stalk us afterwards we won't hold it against you." you smiled as you turned to walk out the curtain, he watched your ass sway back and forth as you left

Y/N: "Have a goodnight stranger", you winked and walked out the velvet curtain leaving him alone to clean himself up

Nanami: "Have a good night Honey..."

All characters belong to Gege Akutami. Story belongs to @nonbinaryeggrolls do not steal

[besotted-eros]

Promotion

Armin x f!reader

18+

Content: Dom!Armin, degradation, dirty talk, deep throating, face fucking, light bondage, Armin loves calling you pet names, power dynamics, slight exhibitionism, degradation, spanking, oral (giving and receiving), unprotected sex, slight bimbofication, corruption kink, losing virginity

Made to be a soldier.

That's how they describe you, your superior officers and your comrades. You had sought out the scouts the earliest that you could, desperate to find your place among the ranks. And you moved well within them, soon becoming one of the elite of your regiment.

All the better, as it made it easier for you to catch his eye.

You had taken his orders for two years now, after his return from Marley and immediate promotion to commande, passed through section commanders and leaders. But the first time he saw you, Armin's words died on his lips.

"Her name." He asked, gesturing towards you discreetly. You were standing in salute, hand curved over your heart and back straight.

"Y/n, sir." His assistant responded.

Armin liked how it sounded. It was a name he could see himself murmuring in the moonlight, against your soft skin. "And how is she?"

"She hasn't seen anything action wise, not many of them have. But she's one of the highest ranked." Armin could have told him that. It was the way your eyes were still bright and soft, the innocence still hung about you.

He wanted it.

"She'll be in my squad starting tomorrow. Let her know. She'll take dinner with me tonight.

You sat on the edge of the couch, fidgeting with the pleats in your pants. Your head was still spinning, waking up this morning as any other grunt and by the evening being told you were meeting with Commander Armin to be inducted into his personal squadron. You had always admired the man, with his elegant and soft way of speaking and his kind azure eyes. And his mind. To think that that mind decided on you. It was an honour.

"Ah, y/n." The warm voice greeted you from the opening doors. He stood to the entrance to his private quarters, and behind him you could see an intimate set up for the aforementioned dinner. You jumped up, pounding your hand to your chest.

"Sir, commander Armin sir! Thank you so much for this promotion, I will aspire to live up to the standards that the scouts have set, I will-" You launched into the ramble quickly, voice raised and cheeks bright with flush. His delicate features lifted into an even warmer smile as he crossed the room, hand extended.

"Shh, enough of that. You're a bright soldier, I'd be an idiot not to pick you." His eyes ran across your body, almost blatantly. He must have been sizing your physique, judging how strong you were. You raised your chin, clasping his hand firmly. His skin was calloused, years of war and hard work. It offset the softness in his eyes. You were at once comfortable, allowing him to pull you by your hand towards him.

Armin moved to touch the collar of your shirt. It didn't lay as flat as his did, and he adjusted it familiarly. His head dipped towards your neck, inhaling the soft scent of soap and perfume. He hummed softly in his throat before smiling again.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, lifting your hand to his mouth. He pressed a chivalrous kiss to your skin that made your eyes widen.

You hadn't realised he was inquiring for more than just food. But your mouth was full now anyway, his pretty pink cock buried to the hilt down your throat.

He stared at you with those kind blue eyes, shadowed with a perverted lust. His once soft hands were a vice in your hair, guiding your novice mouth further down. In his over sized armchair his hips bucked, attempting to press further and further into your hot wet throat. Your fingers scrabbled at his thighs as your eyes welled with tears, making the mascara you had borrowed from your bunkmate run.

"Shh, pretty thing. That's it. Need to teach you this don't I?" He whispered, brushing one of your black tears away. "Breathe through your nose. Don't you dare pull away." He grunted, moving both hands to hold you in place. Beside you the fire flickered, casting shadows on the untouched meal. You had barely gotten past drinks when you had noticed the bulge in his pants, and how his smile widened when he realised you couldn't keep your eyes away from it. He had asked another question, politely inquiring about your physical test scores while he undid his belt. Your voice had faltered and Armin's brow furrowed.

"I asked you a question."

So you answered dutifully, words tumbling from your mouth as you watched his slender fingers wrap themselves around his already swollen shaft. It suited him, long and delicate, with veins that matched the blue of his eyes. It was no wonder you were more than ready when he asked you to take it in your mouth.

And now you were drooling over it, heaving breaths through your nose to ensure he remained completely sheathed in your throat.

"Have you done this before? Or are you just made to be a whore?" He purred, slowly pulling his hips back. You shook your head as best as you could, gasping when his cockhead popped from your lips.

"N-never." You choked out, coughing slightly. Armin's eyes flashed as he violently thrust forward again, sending himself straight down your throat. You gagged slightly but caught yourself, your nails digging into his thighs through the expensive fabric of his pants.

"So you're just a natural, hmm? Such a pretty innocent face, but you're made for such depraved things..." He gathered your hair slowly as he spoke, gently stroking it to the top of your head and Twisting it into a bun. You melted into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed at his caresses. He waited till you were disarmed, soft and pliable. And then he leaned back, gripping onto your hair and using it as purchase to begin thrusting down your throat. He panted loudly, eyes glazing with pleasure as he fucked into your mouth. You whined with pleasure when you could, struggling to catch your breath as he used you, holding you still while his hips met your met over and over. You felt his heavy balls slap against your chin, felt the brush of his soft blonde hair, kept trimmed and neat. But all you could do was feel yourself grow more and more wet, more and more desperate for this sweet faced commander and his dark wants.

"I'm going to cum down your throat, okay pretty whore? Don't you dare waste a drop, understand?"

He was leaned forward now, pushing and pulling your head rhythmically. You whimpered, fingers gripping his pants as you looked up to him, those innocent wide eyes bleary with tears. And that was enough to push him over.

With a final gasp he shoved you down, groaning his relief as he unloaded shot after shot of hot white cum straight down your throat. You were true to your word, swallowing every drop as tears fell freely from your face, and your hand pressed desperately between your legs.

He collapsed back, his chest surging as he watched you catch your breath.

"What a good little thing you are. You'll be such a perfect addition to my squad. I've needed a whore for a while now." He commented, pulling you to stand. You were dazed, holding onto his arms as he held you against him. He crooned softly as you swayed, his hands moving down to grope your ass brazenly. "So fucking tight, let me see it." He panted. It made your head spin to hear the perverse growl in his voice, so in contrast with his innocent blue eyes and halo of blonde hair.

He pushed you back slightly, making you stumble. You caught yourself and began to undo your buckle as he ran his fingers through his hair, eyes glued to your hands as you began to push the garment down. You had worn your prettiest panties, not knowing what compelled you. But it seemed worth it now as Armin's eyes lit up at the soft white satin and lace. He let out a deep groan, pulling you violently to him to set his lips crashing against yours. One hand held you in place as the other made contact with your mound, stroking your heat through the fabric. You moaned into his mouth and it encouraged him, the heel of his palm grinding against your throbbing clit as his fingers manipulated your soaked lips, pushing and pulling the fabric against your slick.

With a quick movement he had spun you around, sending you rocking back into the armchair. You didn't have time to get comfortable as he dragged your hips forward, calloused hands forcing your knees up and apart.

"Look at you, wetting yourself so early into the evening. You really are desperate aren't you?" He murmured, the tip of his nose trailing up the soaked satin. He inhaled loudly, making you whimper and try to pull back.

"S-sir," you gasped and he grinned malevolently, rubbing his nose against you even harder, parting your lips under the panties.

"You shy now? You let me cum down your throat and now you're shy?" He murmured, hot breath sending shivers reverberating through your body. His tongue flattened against the crotch and he dragged it up languidly, taking his sweet time making your toes curl. He slowed even further over your clit, knowing exactly where you needed him most and denying you it. He watched your face, eyes dancing with cruel delight as you whined your frustration, lifting your hips to him.

"Needy little whore." He whispered, bottom lip dragging against your throbbing button. "Normally I don't treat little whores so good yet, but you're so pretty I'll make an exception if you show me your breasts."

There was no thought of denying him. Your blouse was off within seconds, your bra thrown over the back of the armchair. Your hard nipples pebbled even further in the cold air, and Armin stared slackjawed for a moment. Your body, spread out bare infront of him in the hues of gold from the fire. Finally something to render the quick witted man speechless.

But only for a moment.

He all but attacked your cloth covered pussy, slurping and suckling at every part of it and soaking the fabric completely through. Your body writhed and whimpered on the chair, legs on his shoulders and hands in his straw coloured hair. It drove you crazy, to feel the outline of his tongue push satin into your aching hole, having it tighten over nothing in desperation.

Before you could beg for him to rip them off of you, he was standing, revealing his erect dick already dripping precum.

"Turn around and hold the back of the chair, sweet thing." He said, voice a soft velvet. You could hear the sound of his hand jerking his cock, and it was even sweeter than his voice. You scrambled up, turning over in the grand seat to hold onto the worn damask.

He hummed low in his throat for a moment before stepping back. There was the sound of shuffling and the familiar clink of your belt buckle. His firm hands came forth, guiding your arms back while he cooed about soft your skin was. The leather slid over your wrists and was tightened carefully. It felt like a perverse bracelet, rendering you even more vulnerable than you had been. Your face leaned into the upholstery now, and you smelled his cologne on it.

"Much better." He purred, fingers soft on your hips for a moment. His hands trailed towards your ass, squeezing the cheeks fondly before one pulled back, delivering a sharp slap that made you cry out. That drove him forward, yanking your panties down now so he could strike your bare skin. He paused to watch a stringy drip of your arousal fall from your warm lips. Your pussy was drooling for him.

He had planned to tease you, to fuck himself between those plush thighs until he was soaked with you, till you were begging for him to slide in. But you made that impossible.

You didn't have time to process his head at your entrance before he began pressing in, stretching your virgin hole to suit him. A low, drawn out gasp pulled itself from the depths of your throat and he leaned forward, fingers now digging into the skin of your hips.

"Breathe through it, come on. You're a soldier aren't you? Gotta learn to take a little bit of pain." He dropped his honeyed words against your shoulder, teeth dragging across your muscles. You inhaled sharply before hissing through your teeth. He purred his approval, massaging your skin as his long shaft pushed its way in. He waited until your breathing steadied, watching the parts of your face that he could see carefully.

"Tell me you're ready, pretty girl." He asked, hand moving to your bound hands. His fingers played with yours, waiting until you nodded.

And then, you were his.

He pulled back carefully before snapping forward, sending you pushing into the cushions. You gasped at the sensation, the feeling of your innermost walls being touched and rubbed against.

"Fuck, such a good little virgin hole. All mine, only me." Armin grunted, thrusting again. His normally perfectly set hair was now in disarray. You whined at the sound of his voice, and his lips curled prettily. "I can already tell what you want, it's so obvious."

He leaned back slightly, his pace picking up as his large hands guided you back and forth on his shaft. Your ass jiggled every time it met his well formed stomach, soft gasps with every impact. They only increased in volume as he picked up speed, muscles in his legs tensing and low groans filling the air. The sound of his pleasure was intoxicating mixed with the slaps of his balls against you, and the lewd squelching of your pretty pussy.

"You just want to be fucked dumb don't you? Pretty, smart little soldier wants to give everything up for her commander hmm? Bet you don't wanna be in my squad, you wanna be my little bed maid don't you?" He hissed through gritted teeth, placing a foot on the chair to give himself better depth. The tip of his cock pressed pre-cum soaked kisses to your cervix and your back arched, fingers flexing and wrists writhing against the bounds.

"C-commander!" You managed to squeak out and he moan loudly in response, delivering another sharp slap to your ass. This only made you more wild, struggling to look over your shoulder at the state he was putting your pussy in. His cock filled you perfectly, expertly dragging against your walls, putting your weak fingers to shame. You don't know how you would ever please yourself on anything else ever again, you thought as his head leaned back, face contorted in pleasure.

The heat was mounting, growing higher and higher in your stomach and chest. Armin could feel it, the way your walls clenched at him, fluttering in pleasure. Your fingers flexed and he ran his hands up and down your arms, loving your inability to move them.

"Oh fuck, pretty thing is gonna cum so soon? Yeah? Gonna cream on my big cock, baby?" He hissed, reaching forward to grab your hair. Now your entire body was being moved, bouncing against him like a toy. You could do nothing but babble your response, almost cross eyed from the immense pleasure that every single moment sent through you. Your breasts bounced under you, rubbing against the rough fabric, only adding to the symphony of exctasy that Armin was gifting to you.

"Fucking do it. That's an order, whore. Cum on this c-cock." His stammer slipped through as he bottomed out in you time and time again, your plush walls milking his raw cock.

And you have always been such a good soldier. You were made for this, weren't you?

You came, waves of pleasure making your vision explode into a kaleidoscope. Your pussy clenched onto Armin, a last entreatment for his hot load. And he obliged, letting out a loud gasp and low groan of your name as he pumped you full of his seed, collapsing against you for a moment. He held you tight to him, murmuring soft praise as his cock plugged you shut, letting his cum paint your walls.

He didn't have time to rest, his lips just finding the back of your neck before there was a knock at the door. With an annoyed sigh Armin straightened, adjusting his pants and combing his hair back into place.

"Come in." He called out, his voice cool and composed. His assistant opened the door, eyes landing on your gaping pussy, Armin's cum drooling from your lips. Your eyes were glazed over, staring unseeingly at the wall as your cheek rested against the back of the chair. You were blissed out, still recovering from your earth shattering orgasm. Not an unfamiliar sight in this room

"Some forms for you, Commander." The assistant said, walking over to hand the man a pen and binder. "Oh! Y/n, hello." The assistant smiled warmly, but he was unsure if you noticed. Armin tried to contain his smirk.

"Welcome to the squad."

[random-imagines-blog]

Voices {Diana Prince x Fem!Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2343 Summary: Jealousy is hard to tame, even in an Amazonian Princess. Warnings: Smut.

Diana had never been the jealous type. That was until had come along and joined the Justice League, the only other female in this male-dominated group. You weren’t quite as powerful as Diana, but you contributed a lot to the team, and knew how to handle yourself in a fight. Your powers of creating a force field had saved the ass of each one of these lunatics at least once. Even Superman had owed you a debt of gratitude for your powers, all of which you took with a grin. But out of all of them, the one that you seemed to be the closest with was Bruce - and that is where Diana’s jealousy came in.

You, like Bruce, were also from Gotham, so there had been that instant connection there. You would often talk about restaurants, about high school, about people and if there was any overlaps in where you used to hang out. It turns out you used to frequent some of the same places, despite being from totally different backgrounds. You two could often be seen talking and laughing around the coffee machine, or going out to dinner - which made the tabloids go wild. The rest of the league knew that you two were just friends but Diana had always suspected something.

She had originally thought that she would be the one that you would bond with, given that you were a woman. And yes, you two were friendly enough but it wasn’t quite what she had pictured. You would catch eyes in the hallway and nod at one another, and you worked well out in the battlefields of the world. When she saw you with Bruce, your voice would flow through her head like music, while Bruce’s was grating, like nails on a chalkboard. It affected her relationship with Bruce, which had once been friendly but now, being around him just felt like the annoying co-worker.

You and Bruce came into the Batcave from going out to dinner, and you were talking about the couple who had been sitting next to you. “I think it’s romantic,” You were saying about them.

“I think it’s convenient,” Bruce was shrugging off his jacket. “I know a thing or two about gold-diggers, y/n, and that man was one of them.”

“Sometimes, Bruce, I think you see the world in too dark a light,” You said, finally noticing that the others were gathered around, with only Diana and Barry eavesdropping. Cyborg was hooked into a supercomputer, and Clark was in his ordinary Clark attire, looking at his phone. “Oh, was there a meeting?”

“No, I was just bored,” Barry said. There was a flash of yellow, and he was standing right beside you, offering you a bag of chips. “Hungry?”

“Just ate, but thank you. I don’t think I could take another bite,” You protested. Bruce did the same with an elegant gesture of his hand, and you went your separate ways. Bruce went to hang up his jacket while you strode over to see what Clark was doing. Diana was sitting alone at the table now, watching the way that your dress moved about your body. She admired it on you. It was white and gold, and reminded her of home, though this was much more formal than functional. The sleeves draped over your shoulder, exposing the soft flesh of your collar and arms. As you bent over to peek at his phone and see who he was texting, she caught the curve of your breast, and looked away quickly, face glowing red in shame.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to look. But rather, she wanted you to be the one to show her, of your own free will. She wanted you to ask her to unzip the dress and watch as you stepped out of it, completely bare. These thoughts clouded her mind to the point where she didn’t notice that Barry had slipped into the chair beside her and was staring at her, grinning.

“You’re so obviously in love, just go ask her out!” He said, a little loudly. Diana shushed him quickly, and darted her eyes back to see if you had noticed. But you were teasing Clark about his girlfriend, Lois at this point and didn’t seem to have overheard.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Diana said, turning back towards Barry. “Isn’t there some marathon that you should be running?”

“Ouch, you get mean when you’re jealous.”

“I am not jealous,” Diana said, though she knew that it was a lie. Jealousy was a snake that was making it’s way through her nerves, and if she didn’t do something about it soon, she was afraid she was going to burst. The toxicity was unscrewing itself.

She stood up and made her way to the bathrooms. There were two, side by side, neither of them labeled as male or female because it seemed stupid. Just pick a bathroom and use it. She went inside and ran some cold water over her hands and patted at her flawless face. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw the red coming across her cheeks. She saw that glint in her eye that she didn’t like. Though alone, with the only sound being the pipes, she thought she could hear your voice. Laughing. Then Bruce. Probably saying something witty. Oh, I’m Bruce Wayne, I’m rich. I’m Batman.

She splashed herself again, trying to get control over these negative emotions. She dried her face with some paper towel and went to step out, planning on leaving the Bat Cave since she wasn’t needed here, but when she opened the door - you were standing there. You looked startled by the door opening, but your open mouth turned into a frown. “Are you okay?”

You pushed your way into the well lit bathroom with her, and closed the door behind you. Your hand then went to her forehead, reaching up because the Amazonian woman was so tall, and tried to feel for a fever. “Do I look sick to you?” Diana asked, raising an eyebrow, but let you touch her skin, her face. It brought that heat back but it was a different kind.

“Well, your cheeks look a little flushed, and you have been more quiet than usual,” You said, stepping back with a frown. “But you don’t have a fever, so hurray for small miracles.”

“Good,” Diana said with a nod. “But I could have told you that I’m not sick. I don’t get sick.”

“Of course, your immune system is probably as crazy powerful as you are,” You chuckled. “Is there something else wrong then? I mean, you look amazing as usual but there’s something up with you. If you wanted to talk about it, you know I’m here, right?”

You were just so nice, it was hard for Diana to really comprehend it. She only wished that you were this nice to her, and not to everyone else, as cruel as that seemed. In what was at first meant to be a reassuring motion, she put her hands on your arms and rubbed up and down, and then up, past the thin off-the shoulder sleeves, to your shoulders. Once she had started, she found it hard to stop.

“You’re here, and that’s part of the problem,” She admitted. You tilted your head in confusion, exposing more of that beautiful neck that so tempted her. The way that she was looking at you - with eyes ablaze - it was a wonder you weren’t running off. “I have to ask you a question, and it may sound a little strange.”

“Of course, what is it?”

“Do you have feelings of any sort for Bruce?”

“Oh, gross, no,” You said, shaking your head. Her hands were still on your shoulders, keeping you grounded. “He’s like a brother, especially since we grew up in a lot of the same places. Why do you ask?”

“You two seem very close... very close.” Her hands went up your neck, caressing the soft and exposed skin until she reached your jaw. Your breath hitched in your throat, she could feel it. But you didn’t become meek or shy. Instead, you surprised her.

“Hmm... are you jealous, Diana?” You asked. You didn’t attempt to push her off, or get her to move. In fact, the reason why you had been going towards the bathroom in the first place was easily forgotten. Diana was caught of guard by your direct question, and responded to it with a nod rather than verbalizing. A smile went across your lips - closed lipped, tantalizing. “Then my plan has been working.”

You were the one that initiated the first kiss, wrapping your arms around her neck, bringing her in. She was in her full gear in case something had come up, and her metal breastplate rubbed roughly against the soft fabric of your dress. It was a good feeling though. It was a bit cold - and it permeated through the dress until you could feel it on your nipples, making them grow hard. In contrast, Diana was now feeling the soft, the flowing feeling against her elbows as her arms bent when she came closer. Lips smashed against lips, and that jealousy melted away.

You were the first one to pull away, take a step back and looked over that outfit of hers. The infamous Wonder Woman outfit. Turned into cheap costumes the  world round. “How do you take that thing off?” You asked. Surprising her again.

“Are you asking me to take it off, or are you curious?” Diana asked, pushing her hair out of the way, behind her neck, so that she could get back at yours with kisses.

“Both,” You said, leaning your head back so that she had more skin to get at. Diana grinned into these kisses, and showed you exactly how the form fitting top came off.

Diana felt very comfortable in her skin, and was fine with showing it off - to you. There were plenty of perverts out there who wanted to see this view, but it was only for you. Her chest was heaving with excitement, the pink that had been on her cheeks blushed her tan body. The skirt had come off as well, it being a one piece, and now she was standing there in only her underwear. For you.

You brought her back in for another kiss, this time with no hard breast plate in the middle. Diana’s hands deftly made their way to the back of your dress, and found the zipper. You moaned in encouragement, and gently - so as not to ruin the dress - she pulled it down until it reached your lower back. You shrugged your way out of it, pulling your arms out of the sleeves and let it fall onto the bathroom floor. At least Alfred kept this place spic and span himself. These floors had only been mopped that very morning.

Diana kept the kisses raining down upon you, your neck, your shoulders, your breasts once they were exposed. It was just the two of you in your underwear now, pressed against one another but it never felt close enough. Lifting you with ease, Diana swept you off of your feet and put you up onto the sink. You leaned back against the mirror, surprised at how quick all of this was going on. Both of you were. But neither of you were putting a stop to it. This was what she had been thinking about doing. Taking you from Bruce’s side and showing you how she really felt. This, this was a dream come true.

She kissed her way up one of your thighs, right along the inner skin, got to your underwear and started to pull it off slowly, leading it with kisses among the other thigh, to the calf, the to your pretty feet, bound in heels. Those, she would leave on. Just like she would her own thigh-high boots. “You’re very beautiful, y/n,” Diana said, getting a real good look at you.

“So are you, Princess,” You said with a smile, watching with eyes full of adoration. She existed for your compliments, and made her way hungrily between your legs. She was soft, just like those plump lips of hers, and she was gentle. She was also quite slow, which made you want her all the more. Her tongue was wet and warm and seemed to know exactly where to go to bring out the little whimpers in you. Your hands went to your own breasts, squeezing them. You pulled at your own nipples, making a display of it as Diana watched. Her dark eyes stayed focus up on you as her mouth worked.

As you began to reach your climax, miscellaneous things in the bathroom started to rumble. The garbage can for one, began to shake. The paper towel roll became entirely undone. The soap started to squirt out on its own. The lights flickered on and off as that force-field of yours affected the electricity around you. When you did finally reach it, your legs tightened around Diana, trapping her there as you thrust your hips up and down against her face, mewling with satisfaction.

The afterglow must have been amazing, for you grew a lot more loose and limber afterwards. Once you let Diana out of your grip, she joined you, hopping up onto the counter and put her arms around you, bringing you in for more kisses. These ones were more so lazy, just little pecks, as you started to recover from that rush of emotions. “What about you?” You asked, looking her over with a grin on her face.

“In time,” Diana smirked. “We have all of that in the world.”

[elen-aranel]

Starlight Études - Trio

You glance over to him, making eye contact, and you smile, almost forgetting where you are for a moment. (< Minuet • Impromptu - Nocturne >)

Pairing: Spock x F!Reader (no Y/N), set in @starfleetstgmgr​​​​​​’s Star and Dove AU Warnings: First contact. Patience WC: 4.2k (chapter) Rating: Teen A/N: Things between you and Spock are going well... but slowly.

Trio — the middle section of a minuet. Originally scored for three instruments.

You look at yourself in the mirror, admiring your freshly synthesised dress uniform. You smooth your white and grey jacket, feeling tall; the dress boots are a little higher than your usual uniform ones, but the extra height gives you a little more confidence. Maybe that’s what the designers intended.

Needing a dress uniform is something else that hadn’t occurred to you when you thought about first contacts, and you allow yourself a moment to finger the titanium delta shield buttons on your cuffs. Just a moment, though. You still feel some calm lingering from your meditation last night, but you feel your anticipation increasing.

“Looking good,” Adriana says, stepping out the bathroom wrapped in a towel. “I think the first time I put one of those on will be when we graduate.” She moves to stand by you, then reaches out and adjusts the way your collar falls. “Now it’s perfect.” She sniffs. “I like your rose scent. Is that new too?”

“It’s just for big days.” You smile at her reflection. “I’d better get going. It’s already mid-morning, planetside. I can’t be late.”

“I wish I were going too, now. Much more fun than the scans I’m down for today.” She steps away to get dressed. “See you at dinner?”

You finish admiring yourself and walk to the door. “Yes, see you then.”

*

“Everyone ready?” Ambassador Pike asks, to murmurs of assent as you troop onto the transporter pad. You take your place in front of Spock; you can’t help but take a second to admire him in his dress uniform too. Lieutenant Cronje, the blonde one who didn’t believe in your fighting skills until she had a taste, is the last member of the party. She gives you a look as she steps onto the platform and you can tell she’s still salty about it.

The captain and ambassador are last to step up, sharing a look between them as they do. They both have cases, as do you: gifts for the Lenovrans.

“Energize,” Captain Pike says, and the gold light sparkles round you.

Your first impression of the room you materialise in is brightness. Light and excitement. Anticipation. You hear murmured conversation, quieting. There’s a dome high above your head, with bright windows high up, the source of the light. Four thin columns support the ceiling, and there are large doors on either side of the room, one with light shining through frosted glass. As you take a breath you’re immediately assaulted by a strong scent which makes you think of orange blossom, but fresh like mint, with woody and herbal notes too. Around the columns are white metal stands with flower arrangements – spherical water filled vases topped with blue, pink, and red orb-like flowers.

There are quite a few Lenovrans milling around, looking at you with curiosity, and excitement. There are variations in their mauve skin, blue hair, and facial markings, but not to the degree which you see in humans. You wonder if there is less variation overall, or whether they’re mainly from a specific area. They wear light-coloured loose tops and trousers, especially yellows, oranges, and pinks. It’s quite a contrast to the black you saw Tuvie wearing yesterday. Their fabric is plain like fine linen, but a lot of them are wearing scarves which seem oddly shiny. You would really like to get a closer look.

You would be happy to keep watching for a while, actually; maybe go and examine the flowers, but that’s not what you’re here for. A group of Lenovrans detach themselves from the crowed, headed by a female wearing a cream colour.

“Ambassador Pike, Captain Pike, officers. Welcome to Lenovra.” She bows. “I am Maynie Minister. Blessings upon our meeting.” She smiles, satisfied; you can tell she’s pleased with herself for getting the form of address right.

The ambassador bows. “Blessings upon our meeting, Maynie Minister. It is our honour to join you today.”

“Our honour and pleasure,” the captain adds, bowing in turn.

“It is our honour to host you. To be the among first Lenovrans to meet you in person.” She takes a breath. “Preparations are ready. We will go outside to meet the Triarchy. The formal meeting will be broadcast across the planet so all our people can join us taking our first steps into the galactic community. If you’ll come with me?”

You take a moment to see how Spock and Lieutenant Cronje are reacting to things as you follow Maynie Minister. Spock’s eyes are alight with curiosity, doubtlessly cataloguing some of the same things that you’re seeing, though maybe different things too. You look forward to comparing notes later. The Lieutenant looks calm, almost indifferent. You can see, though, that she’s holding a communicator loosely in her left hand, almost casually. Ready to call for a beam-out if anything goes wrong, you suppose.

You continue to examine your hosts as you all head toward the door, and belatedly you recognise Tuvie Engineer and Lowra Technician among them. They look very different to yesterday: their dark clothes are gone, Tuvie wearing lemon yellow and one of those scarves, with an even more elaborate braid if possible. Lowra wears light salmon pink, dark blue hair slicked back. He looks nervous, but she has a wondering look on her face, like this is a dream she might wake up from at any moment.

The door opens, then, and you catch a glimpse of a crowd. Someone gasps slightly; you’re not sure who, but suddenly you feel like you’re transported back to the end of year concert at your high school. The auditorium was packed, and some of the students were nervous, but you had practiced for hours, you knew your piece inside and out, almost backwards, and nerves melted away to anticipation, and excitement to share your music with the crowd. This is the same, you think. You’ve been in front of crowds before. You’re prepared. You can enjoy this.

You tighten your hands on the case you hold as you move closer to the door. Outside you see a wide marble pavement, giving way to steps down on your right. The crowd are at the bottom of the steps, and you can’t see how far back they go but you think there must be thousands of people there. They’re wearing all colours, light and dark, and they’re watching something up in the open area. There is a guard at either end of each step, dressed in grey, and you feel for them a little, since they’re the only people who can’t see what’s going on.

You look back up at the pavement. From the other end a group of Lenovrans is marching forward in a neat formation. They look military – a marching band, you realise as they get closer, although they’re not playing yet. They all seem to be carrying variations of pipes in a dark blue iridescent metal. Once again you would really like a closer look; the pipes are an inverted Y shape, and each seem to have an intricately carved wide panel attached. You wonder what the purpose of it is.

When they get to the centre of the stage they turn neatly through ninety degrees, and one piper steps forward toward the crowd. She adjusts something on one pipe that you can’t see, and a chord starts, even before she starts to blow. The tune she plays is haunting to start, like a folk melody, and you’re reminded a little of a lone bagpiper, if a bagpipe sounded like a flute. Then she adjusts the chord and the rest of the band joins in, this time with a more upbeat march. The sound is full and rich, sonorous. It moves into a fanfare, and the band march forward and down onto the steps.

Three Lenovrans advance to the centre from the far side of the stage area as the fanfare plays, followed by some more guards. They’re all wearing bright white; the same loose tops and trousers that everyone else is wearing, but with half-length white capes too. The Triarchy. They acknowledge the crowd, then step up to a platform further back. There are three seats in the middle, fancy but not to the extent of a throne, and there are a few smaller chairs to one side. The Triarchs each take a seat, and as the fanfare finishes one of them starts to speak.

“Today is a momentous day in the history of Lenovra. We recently took our first steps into interstellar space. And yesterday, the Lenovra Warp Project received a message from the Starship Enterprise of the United Federation of Planets, who had detected our warp trails.

“We are honoured to meet these travellers from the stars here today, from the planets Earth and Vulcan.”

The band starts playing the fanfare again, and Maynie gestures you to follow her. The ambassador, the captain and you go first, followed by Spock and Lieutenant Cronje. You glance at the crowd, and see them staring back. Most seem shocked to actually see you, but you make eye-contact with an older man with greying blue hair who smiles widely at you. You smile back.

The fanfare ends as you reach the platform. You notice small drones flying above the crowd; they must be cameras and directional microphones, so everyone can see and hear what’s happening. You step up, and the ambassador steps forward. The crowd is utterly silent.

“Ennin Triarch, Ambel Triarch, Burie Triarch, Greetings.” Ambassador Pike bows low, and you and the rest of the team bow with her. “I am Ambassador Leah Pike, of the USS Enterprise, Representative of the United Federation of Planets.” She smiles. “Blessings upon our meeting.”

Some tension breaks at her words, as though the crowd were waiting for her to say the familiar greeting for everything to feel real, and suddenly they are cheering. It almost feels like a party. Gradually they subside.

Triarch Ambel, who you recognise from images Kayray sent yesterday now he is closer, replies. “Welcome to Lenovra. We are honoured to welcome the first aliens to our planet; the first of many, we hope. We look forward to learning more about the worlds beyond our system, to forging links, and taking our place among the galactic community.”

The captain steps forward. “I’ve been a Starfleet captain for over ten years now. And I can safely say that nothing represents the ideals of our Federation more than moments like these: peaceful contact with new civilizations that will eventually become friends. As a token of our new relationship, we would like to present you with gifts, representing the Federation, and our cultures. First, our cadet.”

That’s your cue.

You step up to the triarchs, and open your case. You hold it up, showing the plaque inside to them and the crowds, making sure not to rush.

“May I present you with this map, showing Earth, the seat of government of the United Federation of Planets, relative to you here on Lenovra. It bears a representation of our ship the Enterprise, and her motto: To boldly go where no one has gone before. We thank you for your welcome, and hope one day to welcome you to Earth.”

The ambassador and captain present their gifts next. Yours was the formal one, but theirs are personal to them: the ambassador offers a painted wooden sculpture of a loon, a bird native to where she grew up in Minnesota that was handmade by a craftsman in the next town over, and the captain presents a beautiful Navajo pot, similar to the ones he has in his ready room.

Finally, Maynie Minister presents the ambassador with a gift that she calls a story orb. It is a smooth, featureless brushed metal sphere, but she presses a button and it comes apart into eight segments. Each segment is a little diorama, and she presses another button and tiny clockwork figures come to life. You realise that one of the segments depicts the government building you’re standing in front of.

“This represents the story of our people. We are proud to have you here as we begin our next chapter,” she says, and the crowd cheer again.

You wonder what your personal gift will be in the future when you’re a chief diplomatic officer, as you’re conducted to seats for the next phase of the event. Something music related, you think.

*

The ceremony lasts another hour, although you don’t have anything left to do beyond sit still and enjoy it. The head of the Warp Facility reads a prepared speech, a little haltingly; you think he would rather be back in his lab, watching the ceremony on screen. Tuvie Engineer is presented to the crowd as the first Lenovran to ever talk to an alien. She seems to grow in confidence as she answers a few questions, and you’re happy for her.

There is a short pageant, in music and dance, depicting how the three continents of Lenovra came to be joined under one Triarchy. You’re fascinated by the music, played by the band again, and impressed that they pulled all of this together so quickly. But soon it’s over, and you’re ushered out of public view. The crowd cheer as you depart.

*

The Triarchy’s reception room is light like room is like the room you beamed into, but larger and more ornate. The walls are carved with abstract patterns, highlighted in glittering silver, and there’s an even larger dome here. One or two band members are playing in the background. But you can’t get lost in admiring the place: you’re introduced to politician after politician. You have your photo taken with person after person. After a while they begin to blur into each other, your smile feeling a little forced.

“Cadet.” Spock takes your arm. “Would you join me for a drink?”

“Of course. Excuse me,” you say to the Lenovrans clustered around you. They seem a little cowed by Spock, and you wonder if he’s being intimidating on purpose.

“Ambassador Pike thought you needed rescuing,” he says with a raised eyebrow, as he pushes you to the edge of the room where a drinks table is set up, along with some plates of nibbles. Suddenly you realise you’re famished. “I have scanned everything. It is safe for us to eat,” he adds, passing you a plate.

You look at the buffet at a bit of a loss. Of course you don’t recognise any of the food and you don’t know what to expect from any of it.

“Excuse me? Lieutenant Spock? Cadet? Would you like some help?”

“Tuvie Engineer,” you turn, and smile. “Blessings upon our meeting,” you say, bowing.

“I feel like Tuvie Celebrity today.” She giggles. “But I thought, you’ve never had our food, have you? I can try to tell you what things are like? Or at least my favourites.”

“That would be so kind.”

Tuvie helps you pick out food. You take a few different things, some savoury, some sweet, and she helps Spock avoid food with meat in.

“Come with me,” she says, when you both have food and drinks. “Lowra’s brother showed us a quiet spot.”

She leads you further into the room, behind where there are ornate chairs for the Triarchs, although they’re not sitting in them. You nod to the ambassador as you pass, in thanks for your rescue.

There are fewer people at this end of the room, and she weaves in between a couple of flower arrangements into an alcove. There’s a bench, and you, Spock and Tuvie sit. You’re relieved to be out the public eye a bit, and you suspect she and Spock are too.

You enjoy your food, though some of the flavours are a somewhat overwhelming. You think about that, and the strong scent of the flowers and you wonder whether the narrowness of Lenovran noses make them less sensitive. You aren’t going to ask though. Happily your drink is just water.

“Do you mind if I ask you some questions? About your names, and titles?” Tuvie asks after you’ve finished eating. “I don’t understand why you tell people both your chosen names and your given names. After a choosing ceremony, it is inappropriate for anyone to use a given name. And… is Pike a very common given name? Since the captain and ambassador both share it?”

“In human culture we don’t normally choose our names. Our first names are given, and our last names denote our family. Usually the only time they’re chosen is when we marry. Sometimes one partner will choose to take the surname of the other, as Ambassador Pike did when she married the captain. And sometimes people combine their surnames or pick something new.”

“I do not use my family name,” Spock adds, “because it is too difficult for most other races to pronounce, and it is… displeasing… to hear attempts at it. Most of my people, when dealing with outsiders, do not share their family names. There are many different naming conventions in the Federation.”

“I see,” she says, with the air of someone filing away information for future consideration. “And your titles… I understand what a captain does, and an ambassador… but cadet? How do you cadet? What does it mean? What does lieutenant mean?”

You smile at her curiosity. It’s so genuine – she wants to learn, not just be seen with aliens. “Cadet is a special name for student in some organisations. So I guess ‘cadeting’ is studying? Were you Tuvie Student at some point?”

“Well, I was”—she looks round, and lowers her voice so that only you and Spock can hear—”Hanie Daughter, Hanie Schoolchild, Hanie Student, and then I had my choosing and then I was Tuvie Student. I was Tuvie Traveller for a year and then I started working at the Warp Project and became Tuvie Engineer.”

“I did a bit of travelling before I became a cadet.” You love seeing things that cultures have in common. “I don’t know the meaning of Lieutenant, though. Spock?”

“Lieutenant literally means ‘placeholder’. Originally those of my rank would have been in command if their superiors were absent. But now the name is retained, even though the function is not.”

“Wow really? Huh.” You’re as surprised as Tuvie at that.

*

You chat for a while longer. Lowra appears, eyes widening slightly at seeing you with Tuvie, but he plays it cool, and when you express an interest in the musical instruments you heard he really comes to life.

“They’re sun pipes. The chordal drones are generated by the sun interacting with the metal. It’s like a natural solar cell. My—my brother, he’s really good. He’s in the band, actually. Jemba Piper. I could introduce you?”

Jemba is starstruck, meeting you and Spock, but he moves into a beam of light to play. He explains that the metal used in the instruments was originally discovered in ’singing stones’ on a particular mountain, and shows you his pipe and how he plays it. It’s quieter indoors since the light is less intense, but the instrument, now you can see the blue metal up close, the way it shines with pink and gold highlights, and the sound he produces, are beautiful.

*

“These are amazing.” Ambassador Pike takes a second bite of her cupcake, a blissful expression on her face. When you returned from the planet and she told you that the Enterprise had a First Contact Cupcakes tradition. You thought she would enjoy the Pumpkin Chai cupcakes that your first-year roommate Juliette’s mother had baked for you both, so you ran to find the program and uploaded it to the synthesiser.

“Yes, they are pretty good. Is that black pepper in the frosting? I never would have thought that could work. Are they your recipe?” Number One asks.

“They’re my program, Commander.”

She narrows her eyes a little. “I don’t remember you mentioning them when I asked for synthesiser programs when you came aboard...”

“I... have rather a lot of programs, ma’am. I’ve been uploading them as and when I use them.” You cradle your teacup in your hands, hoping she won’t pursue the matter. You still find her intimidating.

“Her hangover cure is doing the rounds of the science department, Commander. Apparently the cadet is the person to ask if you need something in particular.” Lieutenant Lim from exobiology puts in on the way to the captain’s lightning table where the cakes are set up.

“The cadet here is a collector,” Ambassador Pike says, wiping her fingers on a napkin.

“Did you find anything to collect on the planet? I think I saw you with some fabric?” Captain Pike favours you with a small crooked smile.

“Tuvie Engineer gave me her scarf, just because I said I’d never seen anything like it. It’s so pretty.”

“That was generous,” the ambassador says, tone surprised.

“I couldn’t believe it when she just gave it to me. But she said she’d been given clothes to wear, so she didn’t feel like it was hers anyway. I tried to tell her she didn’t need to but she didn’t let me argue.” You take a small sip of your tea, thinking back to the other things you’d seen.

“I just wished I could have borrowed one of those sun pipes to bring back here to scan back on the ship. Spock and I got a close look at one; it was beautifully crafted, and I think the alloy it’s made from is probably unique to Lenovra. They might be interested in trading it, actually.”

“I think the cadet is right; I’ve never encountered a material like that before.” Spock stands next to you with the drink he just got from the synthesiser. “And the pipes were exquisite.” You glance over to him, making eye contact, and you smile, almost forgetting where you are for a moment.

“Why didn’t you ask to borrow one, then?” Number One says. “It seems from everything you’ve said and what I’ve seen, they’re very open to us.”

“I—” You pause, trying to work out how to articulate your thoughts. “It wouldn’t be appropriate. You can’t ask that of a musician you don’t know, unless you’re some sort of expert in their instrument? It wouldn’t be fair. That could be a piper’s whole livelihood. And even if not... people get attached to their instruments. If something happens...” you shrug. “I don’t really mind though. It’s not like there’s much sunlight up here.”

*

Remnants of their synthesised mezze litter the table – a few olives, half a pita bread, pieces of feta, halloumi, scrapings of hummus and tzatiki, one last dolma and a couple of lamb kebabs… Today was too busy for cooking, but not for family time. Conversation has ebbed, too, from discussions of Lenovra, and what they had enjoyed down there, to peaceful quiet.

Normally around this time Leah would be thinking about dessert, but this evening, with the cupcakes earlier, she is full. She takes a sip of wine, noting that even Spock, normally ramrod straight, is relaxed back on the sofa.

The perfect state to check up on him.

“I can’t help but notice that the things you found most satisfying about Lenovra... all involved the cadet,” she says, and she feels Chris stiffen slightly beside her. “How’s it going with her?”

“It is going well. I enjoy her company, and I believe she enjoys mine. But I am... taking things slow.”

“Oh she enjoys your company. Her smile, when she looks at you!” Leah shakes her head, and sits a little straighter. “But why slow?”

“I have been in relationships before,” Spock says, dark eyes solemn. “But I have found that some humans are less interested in me, and more in what I represent. It has been a painful lesson to learn.”

“I wish I had taken dating slower.” Chris says, and Leah turns toward him. “Madeleine Chen and I—” he grimaces slightly at Spock’s raised brow. “Yes, Captain Chen of the Intrepid—though she was a commander when I knew her. We should have taken things slower. I think it would have saved us both a lot of heartache if we had.”

Leah tilts her head to one side. “But you and I didn't exactly take things slow, love. It's different every time.”

“Eighteen years isn’t slow?” Chris winks at her and she swats him, playful. “But it’s our experiences that set the tone.” He turns serious again. “I could tell immediately that things between us were different than they were between me and Madeleine, but I had that baseline to work from. If not, I— …who knows. Maybe I’d have done things differently.” He squeezes her shoulder. “We would still have ended up here, though. I know that.”

“Taking it slow means that when things happen… they’ll be special. You don’t need to rush. But my cadet… she’s with you for the right reasons.”

***

Here's the Pumpkin Chai Cupcakes Recipe. It's really yummy, perfect for this time of year <3

< Minuet • Impromptu - Nocturne >

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 73

Title: Best Laid Plans

Warnings: some profanity, talk of domestic abuse, child death

Tagging:  @tragiclyhip, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @ocfairygodmother, @lokitrasho, @miss-smutty,  @raith-way​, @ocappreciation​

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450/chapters/85024549

He’s up at quarter to six; throwing on a muscle shirt and a pair of work out pants and slipping into the well worn sneakers he keeps by the back door. A run on the beach as the sun peeks over the horizon is exactly what he needs; his bad knees cushioned by sand beneath him, a steady, cool breeze blowing in off the ocean, and the sky painted in vivid orange and gold and stunning pink streaks. The two dogs run on either side of him; their tags clinking against their collars, each carrying a tennis ball in their mouths in hopes of play after the hard work is done. The excursion to his body is calming to both brain and soul; pushing all thoughts of Mark and his devious intentions onto the back burner and concentrating on nothing but his breathing and his heart rate and the sights and sounds around him. And once at the finish line, he bends at the waist and places his hands on his thighs; eyes closed as the sweat trickles off his forehead and runs down his nose and his temples and gathers at the nape of his neck. Chest heaving and burning; a familiar discomfort that serves to remind him of just how far he’s come. Fighting against the odds to complete the long and painful recovery after the incident with Nathan and coming out almost as good as he was before; strong, agile, his health better than it's ever been. He’d somehow survived and he’d long ago swore he'd never take another minute for granted; always grateful to wake up and find himself on top of the ground instead of below it.

After a half an hour of entertaining the dogs, he returns home; splashing cold water on his face and neck and running wet hands through his sweaty hair and then heading for the kitchen. Busying himself with the morning routine; brewing his coffee and the three shots of espresso he always adds to it. The smoothies are next; a wide selection of fresh fruit and various supplements and vitamins recommended by both his doctor and Esme’s fetal and maternal medicine specialist. And the moment he hears her footsteps above -small and light, but just heavy enough to NOT be a child- he begins preparing her breakfast; kettle boiling for her tea while he throws a couple of slices of bread in the toaster and gathers up a container of plain yogurt and a handful of different fruits to chop. He glances over his shoulder and smiles in greeting when she joins him; messy hair held away from her face and out of her eyes with a sparkly purple headband stolen from one of their daughters and her tiny frame clad in a pair of baggy Hello Kitty night shorts and one of his t-shirts. And before he can open his mouth to offer up a ‘good morning’, she’s wrapping her around his waist from behind; yawning loudly and rubbing her cheek against the fabric of his shirt before laying her head against his back.

“Babe…” he warns. “ I probably stink. Gonna make you pass out. Give the baby in utero PTSD.”

“Bullshit. You smell good. You smell like a man. MY man. “

“All the kids still asleep?”

Esme nods. “You already went for a run?”

“Just a small one. Took the dogs with me. Tired them out.”

“I thought you said Sunday was your ‘set in stone rest day’?

“I did. But that’s just for lifting heavy.” Turning around to face her, he takes her face in his hands, turning her head up towards him as he leans down to kiss her. “I’m still going to run every day.”

“You know how I feel about this; when it comes to you pushing yourself too hard.”

“I know you worry. I know you don’t blow out my knee or fuck my femur up somehow. I’m taking it easy; I’m not going full tilt and I’m not ignoring my body when it starts screaming at me. I’m doing a lot better; when it comes to recognizing the signs and paying attention to them.”

“I just want you to be careful. I don’t want you hurting yourself. And you've been spending a lot of time in the gym. You went from one three hour a work out a day to TWO. That’s a lot, babe. Even for a bad ass like you. I know you feel this need to be bigger and stronger and…”

“I’m past that. Maybe just looking to put on another ten. That’s it. That’s probably as big as I’ll ever get again. Sorry. No return to the thicc, lumberjack stage that you enjoyed so much.”

“I DID enjoy it. You had the big muscles and the extra weight in your tummy and your hair was short and your beard was really thick. It was a good look on you. A VERY good look.”

“But…”

“But I love you EVERY way. And how your body is right now? That’s how you looked when we met. When I fell in love with you. So it tends to be my favourite. It’s very sentimental to me. And you know what would make it even MORE sentimental?”

“If you want me to get the haircut, I’ll get the haircut.”

“You would do that for little old me? You’d do that to keep your pregnant and extremely hormonal wife happy?”

“I would do anything for you. Pregnant or not.”

“Best husband ever,” she declares, and stands on her tip toes as he kisses her once more; hands tightly grasping the sides of his t-shirt.

She’d long ago gotten used to that ‘after work out’ stench; the potent tang of sweat , the lingering remains of laundry detergent, and the cool, brisk, freshness of antiperspirant. It’s HIS smell. One that reminds her of safety and protection and love. Of HOME. When he’s away, it’s those combined, familiar scents that offer comfort; bringing solace to her aching heart and effectively relieving at least some of the fear and worry nagging at her. Sleeping with his pillow every night and often wearing one of his t-shirts or bundling herself up in one of his hoodies; soothed by the smell of him clinging to the sheets and clothes and subduing her rattled nerves just enough for her to fall asleep.

It never gets easier; kissing him goodbye at the front door or the airport and then wondering -as he walks away- if she’ll ever see him again. The job isn’t a life you ever really get used to; lying to yourself when you tell others that you’re completely fine with your husband being thousands of miles away, putting his life on the line in the hopes of saving another. But she copes; knowing he can more than handle himself when it comes to the physical aspect and that he’ll do whatever it takes to get back to her and the kids. But the ache is real when he’s not under the same roof; both her and their brood feeling his absence and both saddened and angered about it. And the worry and fear never disappear; feeling as if she’s holding her breath the entire time, never releasing it until the moment he walks back through the front door. Safe and sound.

Pressing his lips to her forehead, he turns towards the counter once more; snagging a knife from the butcher’s block and preparing the only breakfast her stomach has been able to handle. Dry toast accompanied by chunks of fresh fruit, a smoothie containing all the vitamins and supplements recommended by her doctor, and a tea that helps with calming both her tummy and her nerves. While the nausea lingers throughout the entire day, the mornings have been especially horrendous; unable to keep even the smallest sips of water down and struggling with both weakness and dizziness. All of the pregnancies have been the same in that respect; losing weight before actually managing to put it on, suffering from headaches and queasiness and even a handful of scares that sent them running to the hospital in fear there was something terribly wrong. But the sixth pregnancy is turning out to be an even bigger struggle; half a dozen different medications fighting to keep her blood pressure down, help her sleep, and keep her eating and drinking properly.

“I’m surprised you’re up,” Tyler remarks, as she moves to the stove to tend to the boiling kettle. Offering a mug with the tea bag already in it; his hand briefly resting on the small of her back as he places a kiss on her temple. “You were sleeping pretty good when I went on my run.”

Sighing, she sets the mug down on the stovetop and fills it with water. “I probably still would be if your spawn didn’t wake me up out of nowhere and send me on a mad dash to the bathroom. I’ve come to expect SOME sickness, but this?”

“This one’s giving you an extra hard time, huh? What did the doctor say? Something about making too much human growth hormone? I don’t know. She completely lost me when she broke out the science speak.”

“A variant of it. And it’s too much of ALL the hormones. Kind of weird; that the last pregnancy would be the worst. You’d think it would be the easiest; your body totally used to everything, able to push that sucker out with only two tries. I swear to Christ, Tyler. If this is another Millie labour…”

“You’ll cut my dick off?”

“That’s a little extreme. You need your dick. It’s still very useful. I’ll just chop your balls off. So you can’t make any more swimmers.”

“How about we not do that and just let the surgeon handle things?”

“I want a goddamn guarantee from him that this isn’t going to happen again; your penis remarkably healing itself and letting those swimmers of yours have free reign.”

“I’m going to jump in here for a second. You realize your body fucked up too, yeah? That it took BOTH of us to make this baby? Your tubes were tied. Right after you had Kota and Brookie. You’re not supposed to be able to get pregnant in the first place.”

She stares at him over the rim of her mug. “Even if I hadn’t gotten them tied, you weren’t supposed to be able to produce any sperm. Ever again. For the rest of your natural born life. But low and behold…”

“You…” He points the knife at her. “...need to accept some responsibility in all of this.”

She huffs, taking a sip of tea and then setting it on the stove; hands on her hips in a show of defiance. “I will do no such thing.”

“Come on, this can’t all be pinned entirely on me. Both our bodies had to screw up for this to happen. So be a big girl…” snagging her by the front of her t-shirt, he gently pulls her into him. “...and take some of the blame.”

She stares up at him; a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth and those enormous, dark eyes sparkling mischievously. “No. You can’t make me.”

“Listen pocket wife, I’m a foot and three inches taller than you and almost a hundred pounds heavier. I can make you.”

“I’d like to see you try. You don’t intimidate me. Your muscles and your resting asshole face and all those tattoos and scars. They don’t scare me a bit.”

“You realize I have ways of convincing you, don’t you? Ways that don’t involve intimidation. “

“Yeah?” Both hands clutch the front of her shirt as her body leans into his. “What kind of ways are we talking about then?”

He swipes the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip. “Sexual ones.”

“You realize that sounds more like pleasure than punishment, right?”

“You remember that thing we did back in New York City. In the bathtub. The thing you claim to hate but always seem to love? The one thing that I always can count on to make you squirt? Do you know what thing I’m talking about?”

“I know EXACTLY what you’re talking about.”

“Well next time around, when you least expect it? I’m going to do that twice as much. Only this time there won’t be a happy ending. For you, anyway.”

Her eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t.”

“Yes. Yes I would.”

“You’re evil.”

“Most evil husband out there.”

“You may be the most evil, but you’re also the sexiest out there. So at least you have THAT going for you,” she chides, giving a tiny yelp when he brings a palm down on the cheek of her ass in a ringing slap. Giggling when his hand reverts to lightly pinching and squeezing before drawing her into him; body pressed against his and her hands tightening their grip on his shirt as he leans down to kiss her. Long and slow and deep; the brief contact between their tongues finding her curling her toes and sighing into his mouth.

When he pulls away he’s smiling down at her; blue eyes sparkling with a mixture of unbridled lust and pure adoration. Hand moving from her ass to the side of her cheek; knuckles grazing over the soft skin before gentle fingertips clear wayward strands of hair away from her face and tuck them behind her ear. “You’re beautiful.”

“You need glasses.”

“I already knew that. But needing them doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful.”

The smile she gives is shaky; tears welling in her eyes as a lump of emotion wedges firmly in her throat. It’s overwhelming at times; seeing his love, adoration, and affection laid so bare. This big, strong man with his myriad of tattoos and scars and a lifetime of trauma, guilt, and regret. So brave and fearless yet so vulnerable at the same time; possessing a heart that he’s even bigger than his body and a beauty to his soul that not even his father, Asif, Mahajan, or Nathan had been able to rob him of. Working as a team, she’d spent years helping chip away at the seemingly impenetrable walls that he’d built around his heart; patiently urging him outside of his comfort zone and encouraging that humanity lingering inside of him to make itself fully known. In the end, the reward was far beyond anything she could ever imagined; a man that loves her so wholly and completely. And profoundly. So much so it often takes her breath away; and all consuming and often leaving her feeling unworthy of such devotion.

He frowns when he notices the tears in her eyes and the tell tale wobble of her lower lip and chin. “What’s the matter? Why are you gonna cry? What…?”

Her voice comes out as a childlike whimper; reminding him of Addie when she’s been scolded or has had a particularly rough run in with Millie and the teasing was just too much to take. “I really need a hug right now.”

Setting the knife on the counter, he gathers her in his arms. One arm circling her waist as a hand settles on the back of her skull; palm lightly pressing her head into his chest. And when she stands on the top of his feet and perches on her tiptoes in order to return the embrace, he crouches down until she’s able to successfully wrap both arms around his neck. His beautiful, tiny wife; his best friend, truest confident, and his rock during his darkest and most dire of times. Always sticking by his side no matter how difficult he sometimes makes things; forever patient and attentive during the long and painful recovery after Nathan, always forgiving him for his sins and mistakes even when he can’t forgive himself. Suddenly seeming so weak and vulnerable herself; her entire body trembling and her tears seeping through the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re gonna be alright,” he promises, and presses a kiss to her ear. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s ALL gonna be okay.”

*****

He hates seeing her like this; face lined with worry and exhaustion, shoulders drooped as if carrying the weight of the world upon them, eyes dark and downcast instead of sparkling and playful. He’d long ago gotten used to her morning persona; overly cheerful and extremely talkative compared to his grumpiness and need for complete and utter silence until he’s at least finished his coffee. So it’s unsettling when she deviates from the norm; missing the familiarity and the routine of her chattiness and her teasing and witty banter. Instead completely silent as she sits across from him at the table on the back deck; her feet resting in his lap as she merely nibbles at the dry toast and moves the pieces of various fruits around on her plate.

He gestures at her plate with his fork. “You need to eat. Start putting weight on instead of it dropping off.”

“It’s not like I’m NOT trying.” She spears a chunk of watermelon and brings it to her lips, taking a tiny bite before setting it back down again. “I WANT to eat. My body is BEGGING me to eat. But it’s kind of hard when you just feel...I don’t know...off.”

“Something we need to worry about? Something to do with the baby?”

“No. I feel fine that way. Other than being crazy nauseous and already having insane heartburn. How much hair is this kid going to have? Because the only other time I suffered this bad…”

“We ended up with Addie. Hairiest damn kid I have EVER seen. Hands down.”

She manages a smile, then nibbles at a slice of dry toast. “Remember how it was practically head to toe? Because she was a preemie?”

“She looked like a little monkey. A cute one, mind you. But a monkey.”

“Don’t ever say that to her. It’ll be her new obsession; monkey this, monkey that. None of our other babies had much hair. If any at all. Well, Declan…”

“I will never forget seeing that head of hair. Bright red.”

“You looked so confused,” Esme muses, as she once more pulls her plate towards her and attempts to eat. “When he was crowning. It was like he had two heads or something.”

Tyler winks at her from across the table. “I was trying to figure out when you had time to get busy with me AND the cable guy.”

“Baby, he is all yours. Without a doubt. The cable man didn’t stand a chance getting close to me. So unless you can get pregnant just by breathing the same air as someone…”

“I hope you’d have better standards than that guy. If you’re going to do something like that, can you at least have the respect to go a notch higher than I am in quality?”

“That’s not even remotely possible. You’re already on the very top rung of quality. In fact, you’re in another league all your own. All by yourself. If you have the best, why settle for less?”

A grin plays on his mouth. “You are so good for my ego.”

“Besides, we both know I’m the last person that would EVER do something like that. I am way too hopelessly and madly and wildly in love with you. Always have been. Always will be. So unless you’re planning on going somewhere, you’re stuck with me. For the long haul.”

“I’m perfectly happy where I am. And with who I’m with. You know that, yeah? That I’d never do something like that. No matter who’s trying to get with me? I would never...EVER..cheat on you.”

“This is stemming from my insecurities, isn't it? Those women yesterday.”

“I just wanted to get it out there. I don’t care about any of them. There might as well not even be any other women on earth. The only one that matters? The only one I want? Is you. And that’s not going to change.”

“And you say I’m good for YOUR ego?”

“I mean, maybe it doesn’t need to be said. Maybe you already realize all that. Or maybe you’re going to tell me that you don’t need the words; you can see everything in my eyes anyway. I just think sometimes I should say it. Who knows, maybe I need to tell you more than you need to hear it.”

Well…” She reaches for his hand that rests on the tabletop, running her fingertips along his forearm and over his palm before lacing their fingers together. “...a girl DOES like to hear how much she’s adored and worshipped.”

“I thought you like it better when I SHOW you how much.”

“That too. But sometimes it’s a nice little bonus; hearing the words.”

Pushing his chair away, he stands and leans across the table; free hand reaching out to cradle her cheek in its palm. “I worship you. I adore you. I love you. And I can’t live without you.”

While tears sparkle in her eyes, her smile is genuine; filling out her cheeks and crinkling the bridge of her nose. “And you say you’re not romantic.”

He bends down to kiss her; the soft press and languid movements of closed mouth upon closed mouth. “I do have my moments,” he says with a grin, running the tip of a finger down the bridge of her nose, playfully tapping the end of it before returning to his seat.

They sit in companionable silence. Enjoying the crisp, refreshing breeze that rolls in off the ocean and the familiar yet calming sounds of the outdoors. The waves rolling up onto the shore, the rustling of the trees as they sway in the wind and the different melodies that come from Esme’s collection of wind chimes attached to the awnings of the pool house. It’s home. The familiar yet never boring sights and sounds of the where they’re the most comfortable; where they grow and nurture their family and take advantage of the many spoils given to them by such a beautiful and expansive piece of land.

Returning to Australia had been the best move they’d ever made. The start of strengthening not only their marriage, but every aspect of the life and relationship they share; making sure to nurture and grow each separate component that makes them, THEM. Often having to pull back from the chaos and stress of everyday existence to remind themselves that they’re not just spouses and people raising kids together; they’re each other’s confidants, best friends and devoted and faithful lovers. Two unique individuals that share a bond unlike many could ever fully understand; broken and in tatters when they’d first met yet somehow managing to comfort and heal one another. What had happened in Dhaka will forever remain the foundation their life together has been built open. A rather odd concoction of many things; shared grief and regret, adrenaline and fear, profound lust accompanied by the pangs of the heart that remind you that you’re still human. And a lot of blood, sweat and tears. All combined with the unforgettable stenches of raw sewage, blood and sweat, and spilled gasoline.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He breaks the silence first, pushing away his empty plate and reaching for his smoothie. Satisfied with her attempt to get food into her belly; her own meal almost completely finished save for a couple bites of toast and a small handful of grapes. Her feet once more resting in his lap; both hands curled around the plastic tumbler that contains the thickened ‘super shake’ he’d made for her earlier.

“By ‘it’ I’m assuming you mean Mark?”

Tyler nods.

“What more is there to say? He’s in town. Not like there’s anything we can really do about it. Not until he at least makes a move.”

“I’ve got guys trying to track him down. Looking into every hotel, every bed and breakfast, every short term rental within a fifty mile radius. Unless he’s gone totally off the grid and he’s holed up in a cave somewhere, my guys will find him.”

“Is that really what you were doing last night? Taking care of all of that stuff? Getting people going on all this?”

“It was some of what I was doing. Not all of it. When you came in, I was doing exactly what I told you I was. I’d already gotten it all set up; guys already starting to dig. Told ‘em not to leave any stone unturned; Mark’s crafty and he’s slippery and he’s going to do everything he can to avoid me catching up to him. He wants the element of surprise; get to you when my guard is down. I’m hoping to get to him before that happens.”

“When do you ever let your guard down?”

“Even I slip up, Esme. You know that better than anyone.”

“Tyler Rake doesn’t make mistakes when it’s family on his line. He rarely makes them when it’s complete strangers he’s looking out for. You’re not the type to fall asleep at the wheel, babe. Especially when it comes to the kids. And ESPECIALLY when it comes to me.”

“I can’t be around you twenty-four seven. There’s going to be times I can’t be with you. As much as I’d love to be glued to your hip…”

“Do you trust the guys you picked? You don’t exactly hand that out lightly, Tyler. And you’ve always been very careful about who you bring into the business. You’ve always had the strictest hiring practices I’ve ever seen. You don’t just bring anyone aboard. And if you’re willing to put them in charge of keeping an eye on him…”

“I trust them when it comes to the job. They’re some of the best I’ve ever seen, actually.”

“Other than yourself, you mean.

“They’re good, Me. They’re quick on their feet and they’re strong as fuck and they will not back down. From anyone or anything.”

“But…”

“But I don’t fully trust anyone when it comes to you. That’s not something I can give; just hand over your life like that. No matter how well I know someone or how good of a merc they are. But I don’t have a choice, do I? It’s not possible to be around every second of every day. I wish it was. I wish I was the only one taking care of you. But…”

“If your gut tells you that these guys can handle it, then that’s what you go with. I trust you, Tyler. Whether it’s protecting me on your own or making the decision to hand it off to someone else. Your instincts are so strong. Some of the strongest I have ever seen. And if they’re telling you that this is right...that these men are right…”

“They’re telling me that I don’t have any other choice. That I NEED to trust these guys. And I want to Esme; I want to be able to sit here and tell you that I trust them one hundred percent. But other than you? There’s no one I trust that way.”

“If you say this is the right decision and that these are the right people, then I’ll go with that. Because I trust YOU. I always have. I always will. So if this is the move you need to make and you’re confident in it…”

“As confident as I’m gonna be.”

“Then there’s nothing more to talk about. If you trust them, then so do I. Simple as that.”

He nods slowly as he considers her words, then offers a small smile and once more takes her hand; lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“I know you don’t have any answers. And to be honest, I don’t expect any. But I just don’t understand. Why is he doing this? Why now? If it’s a revenge thing, why wait this long? I haven’t been married to him for fifteen years. Why wait that long?”

“I don’t know, Me. I don’t even know if that’s his angle.”

“Everything says it is. What else could he possibly want? Do you think he’s a threat? To me?”

“Yeah,” Tyler reluctantly admits. “I do. He wouldn’t come out of the woodwork after all this time and play all those little mind games in New York and then make it a point to show up here IF he wasn’t planning something. I just don't know exactly what it is. Or when he’s gonna make his move. And hopefully the guys I have trying to find him will track him down. Sooner the better.”

“What will they do with him? If they do find him?”

“Found a little out of the way place in the northern territory. Somewhere they can keep him; until I can get there. Off the beaten track, no through roads, heavy bush. Not a single soul around. Figure that’s for the best, yeah? Keep him somewhere no one can hear screaming and pleading for his life.”

“You’re going to handle that yourself?”

“Hopefully. Told my guys that they can rough him up, but I want him very much alive. So he can feel every goddamn thing I do to him. And I know you’re probably thinking this is a throwback to McMann; taking him hostage and torturing his ass. But…”

“You do what you need to do, Tyler. You do whatever you feel he deserves. I’m not going to think any less of you. And Lord knows that I’ve had quite a few fantasies about how brutal I would love you to be if you ever got your hands on him. I’m not going to ask how and I don’t expect you to tell me. You just do what you need to do. To make him suffer and make him pay for what…” Her voice cracks; tears of both rage and insurmountable pain welling in her eyes. “...just make him pay. Promise me you’ll make him pay.”

Sliding his chair away from the table, he’s at her side in only three long strides; dropping to a knee in front of her and taking her trembling hands in his.

“Promise me, Tyler. Promise me you’ll make him pay.”

“I’ll make him pay, Esme. I promise.”

“Everything he did to him. Everything he said. It’s just all coming back. All those horrible, mean, degrading things he called me. All the times he forced me to do disgusting, horrible things to him. All the nasty, gross shit that HE did to ME.”

He feels the rage that immediately begins to take hold; his jaw setting and tightening and the blue of his eyes becoming much darker. Bile settling in the back of his throat; acrid and burning. He hates hearing about it; the horrific things that she’d been subjected to at the hands of someone who was supposed to love her, protect her, and give her a good life. The person he loves more than anything else in the world and would gladly lay his life down for. Not just his wife, but his best friend and the mother of his children and the centre of his universe.

“You don’t have to talk about this,” he says, and tightly squeezes her hands. “Nothing good will come from going there. Nothing…”

“He is an evil, sick, demented person,” she continues, words struggling to make it through the sobs. “He used to make me clean the baseboards and the grout with my toothbrush and then he’d force me to use it afterwards. If he was in a mood and didn’t like what I made for dinner, he’d throw it on the floor and he’d make me get on my hands and knees and force me to eat it. Like I was a dog! And when I tried to fight back, the beatings just got worse and worse and worse and…”

“That’s enough,” he gently orders, and releases his hold on her hands in favour of drawing her into his embrace. An arm wrapped around her waist and a palm resting on the back of her head; pressing a kiss to her temple and her cheek before drawing her face down to his shoulder. “No more. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t go back to that place.”

One of her hands clutch desperately at the back of his shirt, the other clamping down on the nape of his neck. “How do I ever get over it? How do I ever fully leave all that behind? I thought I was doing okay with it. I thought I was finally putting it all past me. I thought…”

“Sometimes there’s things we don’t really get over. Not completely, anyway. And that was fucking hell; the shit that he put you through. I’m sorry, Me. I am so fucking sorry.”

“Is it weird that sometimes I think about ‘what if’? That I’ll wonder what it would have been like if we’d met some other way? Some other time. Some other place. Before all the bad shit ever happened. Imagine? If we’d met before all of that; if we’d found each other and healed one another sooner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with thinking about that stuff. But babe….listen to me….” He pulls away and cradles her face in his hands; thumbs swiping at the tears that continue to fall “...you can’t live the rest of your life thinking about that. Because if none of the bad ever happened? We wouldn’t have met. Because all the loss and the bullshit put us on the path that led us to each other. And yeah; it was fucking painful and I wanted to put a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger so many times. But in the end, all that crap? All the hard stuff? It brought you into my life. You know that. I KNOW you know that.”

“What if it was all for nothing? You spent YEARS trying to make up for all his mistakes. You didn’t care how messy I was or how messy my life had been before you. You just picked up the pieces and you put me back together. And you never complained ONCE; You just did it.”

“I did it because I love you. Because I couldn’t exactly go and find the guy and kill him with my bare fucking hands. And believe me, I’ve thought about it many times. About how I’d do it. And how I’d make it as slow and painful as possible.”

“All the time and the work you put into fixing me. What if Mark puts me over the edge and I become a big mess again? What if all of a sudden I’m in a million fucking pieces again? What then? It will all be for nothing?”

“No. It won’t. And you know why? Because even if you fall apart a thousand times, each time I’m going to pick those pieces up and I’m going to find a way to make them up. I love you, Esme. More than I ever loved anyone. More than I even thought was possible. And if it DOES happen...you do fall apart...I’m just going to be here to pick you...and all those pieces….back up.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve YOU.”

“Baby, you deserve the fucking world. And I’d give it to you if I could. Come here…” Pressing a kiss to her brow, he tangles his fingers in her hair and draws her head down onto his shoulder; other hand moving in slow, comforting circles in the middle of her back. “...everything’s alright. There’s nothing to be scared of. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“It’s not that I’m scared. Not of him getting a hold of me. I know that you’d never let him get that close. You’d do anything to protect me. I’ve never...ever...doubted that. I just hate what it’s doing to me; him being back in my life. I feel like I’m drowning in all this stuff from the past and that there’s no way you’ll be able to pull me out of it. Like it’s going to suck me under and you won’t stand a chance of getting me back.”

“That’s not going to happen. I won’t LET that happen.”

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,,” she admits. “Worrying all the time about the baby and trying so hard to take care of the other kids and now this crap with Mark and him being so close to us.”

“I know it’s really overwhelming right now, Me. I know it’s a lot of things being heaped on your plate. And believe me, I am taking as much of it off as I can. And this stress with Mark is just making everything else seem even worse. But I got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I just need you to trust me.”

“I do. I DO trust you.”

“You got lots of help with the kids. You got me, you got Stel, Riley’s always willing to drop everything and lend a hand. And you know how much grandpa Koen loves to spend time with them. He’s always ready, willing, and able to step up.”

Managing a laugh, she pulls back and swipes at her tears with the back of her hands. “He was in fine form last night, huh?”

“He was definitely on top of his ‘shit talk Tyler’ game.”

“Everything he says, he says with love. He’s a wreck, you know. When he showed up in Dhaka. He was all laughs and jokes at first and I’m sure that was just to calm his nerves, because when he got to your room? He just lost it. Totally broke down. I’ve never seen him get that emotional since.”

“I guess he’s got a little bit of a soft spot for me. Considering I was an enormous shit head when I first met him and he threatened to beat the attitude out of me. And believe me; he tried a couple times. Tough love, yeah? He’s the guy that turned me into the solider I became. And tried to stop me from destroying myself after everything fell apart. Spent years trying to talk some sense into me. Never stuck.”

“Guess you just weren’t ready for that yet. You just had a bit more of your journey to take. I’m sorry it was as crappy as it was. That you had to go through what you did.”

“Lost my kid and my sobriety. And probably most of my sanity.”

“It’s not fair. That you had to go through so much. Starting right from you were a little boy. Not a single step of your path has been easy.”

“No. I guess it hasn’t. But every one of those steps was worth it. ‘Cause look where I am now. I’m a long way from The Kimberley.”

“Leaps and bounds,” she smiles. “Even in the last five years.”

“It was worth it. It was ALL worth it. And this? Whatever the hell THIS is? With Mark? That’s just another bump in the road we gotta get past. I just need you to trust me. That’s it.”

“I’ve always trusted you, Tyler. Always.”

“Everything’s going to be alright,” he promises, and once more gathers her into a tight, protective embrace. “I didn’t lose you in New York and I’m sure as hell not gonna lose you now. Especially not to him.”

The scrape of the screen door opening upon its track captures his attention, and he glances up in time to see his oldest son step onto the porch. Hair mussed from sleep and sticking up in several different directions; barefoot and clad in only a pair of blue, red, and white plaid pyjama bottoms. And it’s the first time that he’s noticed just how grown up that his namesake is becoming; only ten, but tall and athletically built with well chiselled ab muscles and noticeable definition in his arms and shoulders. All long limbs and torso and tanned skin; brilliant, expressive blue eyes and his once shoulder length dirty blond hair now chopped short. Despite his issues with impulse control, his diagnosis with ADHD, and his volatile temper, he always seems much older and wiser than his actual age; independent and detail and routine oriented and always willing to step up and lend a hand with his younger siblings or with chores and repairs around the house. And it’s bitter sweet; his first son after losing Austin growing up in what seems like the blink of an eye. Proud of him for the person...the man...that he’s becoming but missing the little boy he was; the one who’d be attached to his hip and who explored the world with wide eyed, breathless abandon and wanted nothing more than to exactly like his old man.

“Dad?” Worry tarnishes the ten year old’s voice; eyes darkening and narrowing as he observes the sight in front of him. “What’s going on? What…?”

“Nothing, mate. Your mum and I were just having a chat. She just got a little...worked up.”

“About what?” He finally approaches, a hand on the back of his mother’s chair as he leans in to check on her. “What were you guys talking about?”

“Just some adult stuff. Your mum’s just a little emotional today.”

“Mummy?” TJ lays a palm on her shoulder, gently squeezing and then pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Are you okay? What happened? What..?”

“I’m alright,” Esme assures him, and turns her face into his, pecking his lips. “Daddy and I were just talking and…”

“You don’t look alright. You’re crying. Why are you crying?” A mixture of panic, worry, and the beginnings of anger creep into his voice. And he fixes his father with a steely glare. “What’s wrong with mum? Why is she crying? What were you talking about that would upset her?”

“Just a couple serious things,” Tyler informs him. “ADULT things. Things you don’t need to worry about.”

TJ’s jaw clenches. “What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything. Why would you…?”

“Daddy didn’t do a thing,” Esme assures him. “Like he said we were having a chat and things turned a little serious and I got emotional. That’s it. He didn’t do anything or say anything wrong. I got upset and I started to cry and he was just trying to comfort me. That’s it.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause if something else happened…”

Turning sideways in her chair, she clasps her son’s face in her hand. “Tyler James. Listen to what I’m saying. Daddy did nothing wrong. I started crying and he got worried and he was trying to calm me down. He didn’t say or do anything. He was trying to help. He wanted to cheer me up. That’s all.”

“Mummy…”

“That’s all,” she insists. “I appreciate you worrying about me, but we’re telling the truth. I just got emotional about some things we were talking about. That’s all. Daddy would never...EVER...do anything to make me cry. Unless it’s happy tears.”

TJ sighs heavily. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure. But thank you.,” she presses a kiss to his lips and smooths a hand over his unruly hair. “I’m okay, baby man. There is nothing for you to worry about, okay? And good morning, by the way. Thought for sure you’d sleep in a lot longer; all the running around you did after the littlest yesterday.”

“Dad said we could go surfing. Before everyone else got up. I set my alarm.”

“Well the water looks perfect today. Or as you would say, the waves looking ‘bitchin’.”

Excitement replaces worry and simmering anger. “Dad checked the surf report last night. They said it was going to be perfect conditions. And that it could just be us. I like when it’s just us. It’s a lot more fun. And we sit on our boards and talk. A lot.”

“Then I’ll let you guys get to it. I’m sure you have a lot of boy stuff to talk about.”

Tyler pushes himself to his feet as his wife slips out of her chair; hand on the small of her back as she stands. “You good?”

“I’m good,” she assures him, standing on her tiptoes to return his kiss. “I’ll take the dirty stuff in and I’ll grab some towels and throw them out here for you guys. And maybe I’ll even crash on the couch; until the rest of the hoodlums wake up.”

“If you need anything, you know where to find us.”

“I’ll be fine, Tae. Everything will be fine.”

Nodding in agreement, he offers a small smile and presses his lips to her temple. Watching as she gathers the dirty dishes, mugs, and cutlery and carries them into the house. TJ gallantly holding the door open for her; a broad, beaming smile spreading across his face as she plants a kiss on his cheek.

“IS mum okay?” The ten year old turns to him once Esme is out of ear shot.

“She’s fine, mate. She’s just going through some stuff.”

“Bad stuff or…?”

“Just some stuff. Nothing you need to worry about. You’re mum’s alright. And you know I’d never hurt her, yeah? That I would never...ever...say or do anything to break her heart. Tell me you know that.”

“I do. But you used to. Do stuff like that. I know I was just little then, but…”

“I’m not that guy anymore, TJ. I haven’t been him in a long time. I would never hurt your mother. I love her in ways you can’t even begin to understand. And I would do anything to make her happy and to keep her safe.”

“Is there a reason to? Keep her safe?”

“No,” Tyler lies. “There’s not.”

*****

From the moment he first held Austin in his arms, Tyler had pictured these moments; introducing his son to surfing and forming a tremendous bond over their shared love of the water. Teaching him how to not only handle the waves, but to give himself over to the release and the escape that comes not with conquering them, but being submissive to them; gliding smoothly and confidently yet remembering that nature always has the upper hand and should never be questioned or underestimated. When he had first found out he was going to be a father, he’d often daydream about sharing his passions with his offspring; surfing, fishing, hiking, and camping trips. But military life had been all consuming, as had been his commitment to it; putting fighting the battles of others higher on his list of priorities than his wife and soon to be born child. And having the baby home hadn’t changed a damn thing; signing up for extra tours whenever he got the chance, putting his be all and end all into the army and having nothing left to give his family.

For his fifth birthday, he’d gifted Austin with two things; a custom made surfboard and the promise that he’d change his ways and become the dad that his kiddo needed and deserved. Neither of things ever came to fruition; Austin diagnosed with cancer just three weeks later and the board going unused and Tyler’s promise dying the moment the news had been dropped into their laps. And when Austin had died, so had all of the dreams and the hopes that Tyler had had as father; the loss tremendous and robbing him of both his heart and soul. The grief composed of many things. Not just the loss of his boy, but of all of those expectations, and fantasized moments, and the memories that would have been made during them.

He never dreamed that he’d ever be a father again; his marriage and his military career both disintegrating and finding him throwing himself headlong into mercenary life and a battle with booze and drug addiction. Wracked with so much guilt, regret, and profound grief that he truly believed he deserved his self imposed exile from the rest of humanity. He was a monster and not deserving of any form of a normal life; taking the most dire and dangerous of jobs in hopes one would kill him, drinking and popping pills in hopes of not just numbing the physical pain, but the mental anguish as well.

In the blink of an eye and in the midst of his deepest and darkest moments of suicidal ideation, everything changed. In the form of a tiny, tattooed and pierced brunette with the most beautiful smile and dark eyes he’d ever seen. Since then, every blessing has come with great sacrifice. Ones that he’s willing to pay over, and over, and over again for even a slice of the life that he has now. It’s a normalcy that isn’t normally rewarded to guys like him; a wife and children and a beautiful home in an even more beautiful place. So many bridges burned and toes trampled upon; exuberant coin in your pocket in exchange for scars that litter your body and enemies within all four corners of the world. It’s generally a short existence; catching a bullet in the midst of all the action or a bodyguard or a mercenary -contracted to take you out- catching you by surprise. Most never even attempt any form of domesticity; preferring the company of random women -or men- instead of committing and settling down. The job follows you. Stays with you. Remains embedded in your soul. Accompanied by long lists of evil people you’ve crossed and will forever seek revenge, debts that you can never repay and will forever be held over your head, and addiction and mental health issues. You’re never fully away from it; it will follow you wherever you go, keep you up at night, have you constantly looking over your shoulder or being wary of the smallest of bumps in the night. It’s easier to not get someone else tangled up in the madness; half the time it’s hard just to keep yourself alive, let alone a spouse and children. They’d be the first to pay the price for your misdeeds, and bringing them into that kind of world would be considered not just risky, but selfish as fuck.

Sometimes he still sees himself that way; a weakened, pathetic version of himself that opted to put targets on the backs of others instead of just dealing with his issues and his loneliness in a healthier, SOLO way. But love had found him. Somehow. In the midst of all the darkness and ruin and decay of his life, something...someone... so beautiful and bright had stumbled into his path. She’d effortlessly and easily saw past the hardened and fearless facade he’d created through an endless cycle of self loathing, sorrow, and regret; slowly chipping away at the walls he’d built around the remains of his heart and making him feel alive again. Opening his eyes to a different future and sparking a longing and a desperation and a hunger that he had felt to his very soul. Wanting her...ALL of her...in a way he’d never wanted anyone else. Trusting her in a way he hadn’t since the death of his mother; finding himself both soothed and ignited by the compassion in her voice, the kindness in her eyes, and the gentleness of her hands whenever she touched him.

His heart had been hers long before he’d ever gotten the nerve to tell her so. And he’d been both terrified and filled with hope when he’d even dare to think about a life...a future...with her. He has always felt that his time with her has been far more than he deserves; that kind of existence reserved for those who are morally stronger AND superior. But for some reason, fate had smiled upon him; giving a woman that so plainly wears her heart upon her sleeve and remains stalwartly devoted and faithful. Bearing him seven...eventually eight...children and building a home and a life beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

He’d spent the better part of an hour feeling tremendously grateful and unabashedly proud as he’d watched part of that life so confidently handling the waves below and around him. Ten years old but sometimes so wise and mature beyond his years; misunderstood by so many and not given the credit or the attention that he so rightfully deserves. A fearless, tough kid with an enormous heart; so much love caught up inside him that he’s sometimes unable to express or even cope with it. Exploring the world and the elements with near reckless abandon; always looking for adventure and forever staring challenge straight in the eye. And it’s bittersweet; the act of making the memories with THIS son that his mind had created with for the boy he’d lost years before.

“What do you think it feels like?” TJ asks, as they sit side by side. A hundred yards from shore where the water is calmer; perched upon their boards with their legs dangling over the sides. “To get bit by a shark.”

Tyler glances over; noticing small inklings of his wife inside the ten year old. The way his namesake tilts his head to the side and his eyes narrow as he contemplates a question. The smooth bridge of the nose and the shape of his jaw. But he’s definitely a ‘chip off the old block’; the brilliant blue eyes and the broad shoulders and the long, lanky body, the cheeky smirk and the smile that brightens his entire face. And there’s more. So much more. A strikingly similar personality; dry witted and quick with the sarcasm and the smart ass comments. And the temper; volatile and unpredictable, always seeming as if it’s on a permanent, slow boil.

“I don’t know, mate. But I can guarantee that it does NOT feel good.”

“Mick Fanning...the surfer that mum likes...he got attacked by one. During a competition. A great white. Hit him right in the face with its tail! Can you imagine? I would have been shitting bricks for sure! It would be kind of cool to see one, though. We’ve only ever seen a couple of dorsals in the water. When we’ve been hanging out on the beach. Kinda weird we’ve NEVER come across one.”

“I’d rather not if it’s all the same to you. I’ve spotted a few in my time. Long before you were even a twinkle in your mumma’s eyes. Wasn’t close enough to go one on one with ‘em. Thank Christ.”

“Sometimes I get this really weird feeling in my stomach. When we’re out here. It’s like something is just moving around in there; kicking at your insides and tugging at them and stuff. Like my body is telling me that there’s something underneath me. Maybe even WATCHING me. You ever get something like that? Where you just KNOW something is there?”

“Had that happen a lot. Always been too chicken shit to look down, though.”

“I like that, you know. That you’re not afraid to admit you’re scared of things. Lots of guys are. They act all big and bad and like nothing bothers them, but you know it’s all bullshit. You’ve never been like that. Even since I was little. You’ve always talked about being scared of things and how it’s okay to be afraid of stuff. And that we shouldn’t be embarrassed to get emotional. Cry and stuff. Do you still feel that way?”

“I do. I feel even stronger about it now. Nothing wrong with a guy being vulnerable. Doesn’t make them weak or pathetic or less of a man.”

TJ grins over at him. “Just makes them human.”

“You know, you sound a hell of a lot like your mum sometimes.”

“That’s a good thing, if you ask me. ‘Cause mum’s pretty awesome.”

“Yeah…” Tyler smiles wistfully, then glances towards the shore; his wife up from her nap and getting the littles settled for breakfast on the deck as the older kid’s lend a hand. “...she certainly is.”

TJ’s expression turns serious. “You meant it, right? When you said you didn’t say or do anything to make mum cry.”

“Everything we both told you was the truth; we were talking about some adult stuff and she got emotional. All I was trying to do was comfort her. That’s it. You know how your mum can be; when she’s feeling overwhelmed and hasn’t been sleeping well and she tries to take too much on.”

“She needs to learn how to rely on other people . And ask for help when she needs it.”

“It’s hard for her. Even after all the years she’s been with me. She finds it difficult to ask for help. Guess she’s so used to people letting her down, that she just can’t shake that part of her. We’ll just keep an eye on her and just chip in where we need to and hope for the best, yeah?”

TJ nods, then gives a bashful smile. “I’m sorry, dad. For kinda flipping out on you earlier. But I saw you kneeling in front of mummy and then I could tell she was crying and my brain just immediately went to think you’d done something wrong.”

“We’re a lot like, you and I. In a lot of ways. I tend to react a little too quickly, a little too soon. Old habits die hard. But I would never…EVER...hurt your mum. That is the last thing I want to do. Intentional or not. I love her, mate. In ways you can’t even understand. In ways I can’t even understand sometimes. I just hope that one day you get to feel that way about someone. Or close to it.”

“I just worry about her,” TJ sighs. “I don’t like when she’s upset. Especially when she cries. I hate seeing it; mummy sad. I wish I could find a way so she’d never be sad EVER again. Wouldn’t that be nice? If we could find a way to make sure mummy NEVER got sad again?”

“Yeah, mate. It would. But life isn’t like that. We gotta go through the good AND the bad. Unfortunately.”

“Mum’s been through a lot. I mean, I know you have too. But mum...I don’t know...she’s different. She’s...well...she’s my mum. I know you’re tough and strong and brave and all that. That you can handle things better. But mum puts on a good show for people I think. She lets on that she’s okay and she’s totally fine with taking care of everything one else. But sometimes? Sometimes I don’t think she’s okay at all. Do you ever think that? That she’s just pretending to be alright?”

“I don’t just don’t think. I know she’s doing it. And believe me, I’ve tried to get her out of it. But your mum…”

“And she has the nerve to call US stubborn? She is way worse.”

“She’s got a hard head,” Tyler agrees. “And in some ways, it’s a good thing. She never gave up on me. Even when everyone around her was telling her she should. She just ignored them. Had my back no matter what other people said.”

“It’s ‘cause she loves you. And you’re the first person to ever really love her. Other than her dad and he died when she was young, so ....” TJ rakes a hand through his wet hair. “...sometimes it must feel like it’s just you and mum against the world, huh?”

“I’ve felt that way. A few times. But then all you guys started coming along and our team got even bigger. I like to think we ALL have each other’s backs.”

“Of course we do. We’re family. We’re all in this together. And we’re Rakes. Means we’re tough and we don’t back down. From anyone or anything. We might be scared, but we’re still standing up for what’s right. That’s what you taught us. That even though we might be afraid, we gotta do the right thing. Always. A man isn’t measured by the things he has, but by the people he’s helped.”

Tyler grins. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I read it in a book at school. One of the grade eight kids left on the playground and I was bored and I found it and I just started reading it. I guess I liked that line for some reason. It stuck in my head. Even if there isn't much else up there.”

“Don’t you do that,” Tyler gently scolds. “I don’t want to EVER hear you do that. Talk shit about yourself.”

TJ frowns. “It’s kinda hard when everyone around you is doing it.”

“At school?”

He nods. “I’m the dumb, crazy kid. That’s what everyone thinks. Especially the teachers.”

“They ever say that to you?”

“Not to my face. But I walked by the staff room once and they were talking about that ‘Rake kid’. About how he’ll probably end up in juvenile detention by the time he’s thirteen. And in and out of jail when he’s older. You can’t tell me that it was about Takota or Declan. I might be stupid, but I’m not THAT stupid.”

“You’re not stupid at all. And I don’t want you ever calling yourself that again. You just need some help. Find different ways to learn. Not everyone learns the same way. I was like you in school; couldn’t focus, got ignored when I asked for help, that turned into me goofing off or getting frustrated. Lots of times I put a fist into a locker or a wall. A LOT.”

“Is that why you didn’t go to college? Like mum? Is that why you went into the military?”

“I suppose that’s part of it. Guess I liked the danger and adventure of it too. Going off and fighting bad guys and getting to shoot guns and all of that shit. Never thought about actually having to kill people and what that would feel like.”

“What does it feel like?”

“Not good, mate. Not good at all.”

“Even if it’s bad people? Like that Nathan that hurt you?”

“People like him are exceptions. But for the most part? I don’t like doing it. Not even if it’s in the course of helping someone else. But sometimes…”

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” his son finishes for him. “Sometimes it’s you or them, right?”

“Exactly. And don’t worry about school, alright? I’ll give them a call. Ask for a meeting. Get things sorted and get you the help you need. And deserve.”

“Man…” TJ grins. “...they are going to shit their pants when they hear from you.”

Tyler reaches out to ruffle his namesake’s hair. “Maybe. Hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Wanna head in? See what mum’s cooking up?”

“I don’t know." The ten year old's nose crinkles in disgust. "Do you think it’ll be edible?”

“Is it ever?”

TJ laughs. “Dad…”

“Whatever you do, do NOT tell her I said that.”

“Don’t worry…” Leaning across his board, the ten year old wraps both arms around one of Tyler’s; squeezing tightly and laying his head against his dad’s shoulder. “...your secret’s safe with me.”

[babbushka]

Love On Me

Ancient Emperor!Kylo Ren x Goddess!Reader 

4k ; N S F W (ritual sex, public sex, festival sex, oral sex, PIV, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, come eating, come as lube, body worship, appeasing the gods, crying during sex, conception/trying for pregnancy)

It’s golden, in the temple. He is the only one alone now, although he has been there all day, has shut himself away and has laid his palms bare before the goddesses above. His loyal subjects have done the same, have filled this space with flowers, with fruit, with bread, with the bounty of the goddess’ blessings, have kneeled and prayed themselves hoarse through the course of the day. But now, the sun is setting, and as it smooths across the sky it shines a buttery light thick over the land, the kingdom, the empire.

Kylo’s empire.

It is the last day of the harvest festival, the day that the entire empire has been looking forward to, and as soon as the sun disappears beyond the ocean horizon, they will get the show they have been waiting for. Nine days of feasting, of grand parties, of sweat-slick orgies citywide, and it all comes down to this, this final act of consummation to officially begin the harvest season. With reverent hands, Kylo kneels before the altar, the shrine, in the temple.

Your shrine, in your temple.

He prays, eyes closed and head bowed, prays to the goddess of the harvest, to the goddess of fertility. He prays that this festival might please them, that the worship might catch their attention, might make them look favorably down upon the empire. It is imperative that this goes well, or else the festival will all be for naught.

Kylo was granted the vision in a dream, a great and glorious dream one evening many moons ago. In it, the goddesses stepped forth from the stars and called out to him, gave him the instructions for how to appease them, what he must do in order to secure prosperity for his people. The instructions were clear, and as he awoke in a cold sweat in your bed, he immediately roused you to speak them to you, but you already knew. It seemed as though the goddesses had told you both in the same dream, a dream which neither of you were willing to ignore.

And this is how Kylo finds himself here, before your shrine which is so populated with offerings that he can barely see you, for your statue is almost buried in piles and piles of gifts. Cuts of wheat and leavened bread, grapes and apples and pears, rich citrus fruits like oranges and limes, cherries and strawberries among fig leaves and vines, and a multitude of flowers, beautiful and blooming.

This is how Kylo finds himself, half naked and kneeling, head touching the marble floors as he chants and whispers prayers, asks the goddesses to hear him, hear his pleas for fertile subjects, fertile lands, prosperous wealth and a bountiful harvest.

In his prayers, he can hear the parade ascending the mountain where your temple is built. It sits atop the highest peak in access to the Nabooian people, and they are making the journey up the many many steps carved out of the middle of the stone, so that they might bare witness to this ritual.

Kylo stands then, for the sun is beginning to set quicker, the sky turning from a blazing orange gold, to a softer orange pink, the hint of purples and blues creeping around the edges of the horizon. His ceremonial trousers jingle slightly as he walks through the temple straight down towards the entrance. He is in deep rich red robes, the edged trimmed with gold rope coils and beads made from diamonds. He wears only these and a sash which holds it against his skin, his torso and arms completely bare.

He passes a large ceremonial bed, which has been placed in the center of the temple so that all who come may get a good view of the ritual. It is covered in lush cushions and soft sheets, plush pillows filled with downy feathers, that Kylo might prop underneath your hips when he comes inside you. He passes this bed and makes his way to the entrance, where he stands and waits.

The parade is close, he can hear the procession much more clearly now. What the goddesses had demanded in the dream, Kylo has made a reality. First are the acrobats and the gymnasts, who cartwheel and jump and skip with long ribbons in their hands, moving in formations that took months to rehearse. Following them are rows and rows of musicians who beat their drums and blow their trumpets to a steady march as dancers twirl and move around them, their red dresses flowing with every step.

Behind the musicians and dancers come the military guard, fifty soldiers atop white stallions all dressed in red and gold ceremonial armor, which is polished so brightly that Kylo can see the glint of the setting sun reflected off of the breastplates. They are led by Captain Phasma, head of the military and Kylo’s dear friend, up the mountain.

Then there is Goliath, of course. She is decorated with golden earrings and her collar is even more impressive for this ritual. She stalks behind the military, prowling and snarling, roaring performatively. She likes being the center of attention, likes baring her teeth for all to see how sharp they have grown. She protects you always, and she protects you now, for close behind Goliath are the six chosen warriors which have been given the honor to carry you through the streets.

You are reclined on a cushioned couch, your body thinly veiled by red silk so sheer that it looks as though you’re not wearing anything at all. Of all the sights, of all the display of this power of his empire, you are always the most gorgeous, the most impressive. Behind you, finally, is the entirety of the kingdom.

Some will be so lucky as to fit inside the temple and watch, but the rest will not. They will sit outside, crowd against the temple walls, stand on the steps in the mountainside, line the streets as they do their duty in bearing witness to this ritual.

As the parade comes ever closer, the temple begins to fill. The acrobats stop cartwheeling, the musicians change their tune, the dancers line the perimeter of the temple floor, the military dismount their horses and climb the steps and wait on the third story of the temple, looking down over the railings to ensure no danger will befall you. Goliath gives Kylo a deadly glare as if a warning that if he hurts you, he’ll be a dead man, before lowering her head and allowing him to scritch just behind her ears. If tigers could purr, Kylo thinks, she would.

And then – then then then there’s you. You, in your divine beauty, you, your body which glows like the sun itself, atop a cushioned couch that is carried up the steps of the temple. You are wearing nothing but a ceremonial skirt, a thin scrap of fabric which is slung low on your hips. You are completely covered in golden body chains, arm bands, bracelets and rings, and Nabooian pearls drip off of nearly every piece. Your face is covered by the red veil, but he can still see you, and oh how he is breathless at the sight.

Kylo doesn’t allow your feet to touch the ground when the couch is put down. He picks you up and carries you to the altar, and as he turns to enter the temple once again, all the loyal subjects which have followed the parade do as well. They cram in as much as they can, lovers seating one another atop their laps so that there might be more room for as many people as possible.

The drummers begin then, a slow and steady rhythm. This drumming is unlike that of the parade, which was festive and fun – no, no this is serious, this is important, this cannot be fucked up in any way shape or form, lest the harvest will fail and many will perish.

“Ready?” You ask him, voice barely above a whisper so that only he may hear you, and he nods.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” Kylo replies, as he lifts the veil from your face, revealing you to the goddesses above.

He unclasps the piece of fabric which provides you any semblance of modesty. You in turn, untie the sash which holds up his ceremonial trousers, the both of you bare to one another before the altar. Stepping before the altar together, you hold your hands and kneel, press your foreheads to the floor and send prayers as loudly and as hopefully as you can, up to the goddesses.

 Bless us, o Goddesses above, hear our pleas.

Bless us, o Goddesses above, recognize our efforts.

We thank you for the fields in which we till, for the seeds which we plant, for the fruit which we eat.

We thank you for the children which grow healthy, the mothers who live to rear them.

We ask for this once again, we come before you and we ask for these blessings.

Bless us, o Goddesses above, with these gifts – fertile soil, fertile subjects, prosperous wealth and bountiful harvest.

 Kylo’s subjects begin to chant then, in the ancient tongue reserved for such rituals, such occasions as this. The sun has gone down entirely now, bathing the temple in the moonlight and the glow of a thousand candles which have been lit earlier in the day.

You and Kylo rise, turning towards one another and smearing sacred oils across one another’s body, slicking each other up so that neither of you may chafe or grow sore from the long night of sex that’s about to happen. You smile, for Kylo’s hands are shaking as he cups your breasts, rubs oil across your nipples, and then carries you once again.

He leads you to the bed in the middle of the temple, lays you down upon the sheets and climbs up after.

Your legs part easily for him, settling yourself on your back on the bed. It is comfortable, you sigh out happily and Kylo’s heart soars. He did well, he has pleased you in this small way, and that will surely please the goddesses, for they act through you. He wants to provide for you in all things, as you provide for him, for his people.

He pushes your knees aside and kisses down from your knee to your inner thigh, hot wet kisses which suck harsh bruises into the flesh there. He builds this path with his teeth and tongue on both your legs, until he takes a deep breath and shoves his face against your pussy.

Immediately, your hands twist in the sheets, and your legs flatten down against the cushions which surround you. Kylo drinks down your juices, lets your slick run in rivulets down his chin as he eats your pussy well, eats it right. He drinks from the well of your body, directly pulls the wealth out of your pussy, sweet and golden and all for him.

“Oh!” You moan loud loud loud, and the audience jumps, claps once, the sound of thousands of feet landing upon the temple floors a boom like thunder in the night -- they will get the goddesses attention this evening, if it is the last thing they do.

The dancers begin to move on the temple floor. They do not dare come any closer than a step away from the walls, do not dare interrupt or invade your space, but they are overcome with the awe inspiring power of the goddesses which flow through you, and as you moan again, the audience jumps again, begins to stamp their feet in time with the drums which beat steady.

“Kylo – yes! Yes, oh yes!” You gasp high and breathy, and with each noise that spills from your lips, the entire kingdom chants, they clap, they stomp their feet and rumble the earth. Even those outside the temple, even those down the mountain, in the city, they all move in time, all participating in this ritual.

Kylo’s tongue plunges into your cunt and he rubs at your walls with the thick tip of it, his nose pressing against your clit. He shakes his head back and forth, rub rub rubbing your pussy with his lips, his goatee scratching up your inner thighs, and you cry out your first orgasm of the evening.

When you come, the drums seem to beat louder, as your mouth drops open and your eyes shut tight. The light from the candles seem to blaze brighter, as those standing in the temple link arms with people next to them and sway and stomp their feet in time.

Kylo needs to coax two more orgasms from you before all these citizens, before these goddesses, and he does not waste time.

“Kylo – Kylo I want more, give me more.” You command even as your chest heaves, as your lungs gulp down as much air as they can.

He pulls back enough to rest his cheek upon your thigh, and instead of his tongue now fills you with his fingers. You are relaxed enough that he can push three in with no problem, you take them easily, you moan out loud, and like thunder, the audience claps.

“Yes! Oh yes, faster, harder, more more more,” You plead, you order, you demand.

He fingers you open, fingers you good and long, the sound of your come pushing around his fingers and fucking back into you is intoxicating, the smell of your body covered in the oils and Kylo’s own pheromones drives him insane.

He lowers his mouth back down to your pussy while he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, sucks on your clit good and hard, until you cry out a second orgasm, let it shatter through you, your thighs trembling, knees turning inward.

But he’s not done with you yet, not yet, so he pulls you and pushes you around, so that he can bend your legs up over his head, so that he can get into you deeper, in a new angle that has you sobbing loud. Your cries spill down your cheeks in hot tears, and the audience jumps to the sound of it, earth rumbling beneath your feet, buildings rattling as you take four of his big thick fingers, harder rougher fast fast faster, chest heaving, nipples so stiff as Kylo bends down to suck on them, to pull them hard between his teeth.

“Kylo!!” You scream, your third orgasm comes quickly after you’re so blissed out from the first two, and your body convulses at being pushed to a third.

It is while your body is wrecked with orgasm, that Kylo carefully, quickly rearranges your legs once again so that he can push his cock into your waiting pussy. It is spasming around him and clenching down hard, and you wail out in pleasure as he fills you so wholly, so completely.

“Oh stars, stars (Y/N) – oh!” His voice booms out through the temple, and now the audience shifts from clapping their hands to rubbing their palms together, and this makes it sound like thick sheets of rain, as hundreds of hands slide together.

He fucks you on your back like this for a while, nothing fancy, nothing elaborate, just long and hard and hot and heavy. He bends himself over and suckles at your breasts, bites deep dark crescent shapes into your flesh – not just on your breasts, but your upper arms, your rib cage, your stomach. He covers you in them, laves his tongue over them as his cock pounds into you, draws out the most wanton and passionate noises from you.

The first time he comes, he groans through it, hips stuttering still against you, spilling into your wanting pussy. He grunts out your name, and the sound of rain cascades all around him, though it is a product of the audience, and not real water, he knows.

But maybe, maybe the goddesses will bless you both with rains this evening. The temple ceiling is cut away just above the bed, this is why it is positioned in this particular spot in the middle of the temple. Perhaps if they hear you, they will let it rain and the harvest will be exponentially strong and fruitful this year.

With shaking hands and sweat slipping down his body, his arms and his legs puddling and beading in the pit of your throat, he reaches for fruit which has been placed on the bed. He eats it and regains his strength, his stamina, and he feeds it to you in turn, feeds you as his hips push his come deeper inside your cunt.

He is still hard, he must come two more times tonight before the ritual can be complete, so he down the food and lets the fuel fill him as he slides out of your fluttering pussy only long enough to roll you over onto your stomach.

“Ahh – oh! Oh yes, Kylo, please, don’t stop, don’t ever stop -- !” You chant, beg, plead as he fucks you from behind, as the sound of his skin slapping against yours fills the air.

With each of your moans they jump and clap, with each of his, they wisp their hands together, the drummers drum and the dancers dance, and they all chant chant chant deep in their throats, low hums which fill your skull with the pleasant buzz of noise.

“Please please please!!” You’re sobbing so loud that Kylo nearly worries for you, worries that he’s hurting you or causing you distress, but every time he pulls away to check, you reach behind yourself and grasp his wrist, grasp his hip and push yourself right back onto his cock, desperate and wild for more.

Your toes curl in the sheets and your back arches so that your ass is in the air, your shoulders pressed down down down against the mattress as you drool into the pillow.

Kylo grunts and groans and snaps his hips hard and fast, chasing his second orgasm. A loud yell tears itself through his throat when he reaches it, when that white hot ball of pleasure bursts through you, when he cannot contain how good it feels, how transcendent.

But he cannot revel in it for long, no, for he must come a third time and the ritual is complete. He reaches over for a jug filled with sweet juices, guzzles it down and tries not to choke. Something in the fruit and in the juice acts as a means to keep his cock hard, though by now it is throbbing and pulsing, dumping come into your cunt with wild abandon. He makes you drink too, so that you might be strong, as he rolls underneath you onto his back.

“R-ready?” He asks, as you straddle his hip, your entire body loose and pliant, shaking shaking shaking as thick tears make tracks down your cheeks.

“Yes, please, please Kylo, one more I need it, I want it.” You nod, eyes clear and present even though you’re fucked out of your mind.

Your legs settle around his sides and you ride him, bouncing on his cock. This is the final time, the last round of the ritual. He splays his hands across your breasts and holds them so that your jewelry might not accidentally hurt you from the effort, and he groans out loud, shouts his moans up towards the heavens.

The drums beat beat beat, and the audience stamps their feet and claps and whooshes their hands, a storm with no water, thunder with no lightning. Your throat is open and moans spill out, his name hot on your tongue as you rock your body onto his cock.

“Yes! Yes oh – right there, right there – harder, fuck me harder!” Your head tips back and your hair cascades down your back, all your jewelry glowing in the light of the candles, the room so hot, smelling so strongly of your sex, of the perfume you were bathed in. You cry cry cry on his cock, desperate for more and overwhelmed, overstimulated at the same time.

Your pussy has never been so filled, as it is when he comes into you for the third time of the evening. It is dripping everywhere, sloshing down your thighs in big sticky ropes, thick and viscous and making such obscene noises that Kylo’s cock throbs and pulses out another load just because he can’t help it.

He quickly rolls you onto your back and pulls your legs up, shoves some of the pillows underneath your hips so that you can remain propped up, so that anything that can’t fit doesn’t get lost. He needs every single drop inside of you to appease the goddesses, to appease you.

He then rubs your clit so hard and fast that you scream out one final orgasm, scream out Kylo!! – and lightning strikes across the sky, read and bright, electric in the evening sky. Thunder cracks and booms, and the skies open up as a torrential downpour drenches the temple, making the drummers crescendo their rhythm, making the audience shout and yell and cheer, all the candles blown out by a strong gust of wind, as rain soaks the ceremonial bed.

“They’ve heard us.” You grin, manic with your eyes too bright.

The rain is not cold, no, it is warm and welcoming, and Kylo presses soft kisses all across your face in the dark as the audience continues to cheer and cheer. They all slowly begin to file out of the temple, off to dance in the rain, to bask in the glory of the goddesses who have blessed them with the promise of a successful harvest season.

You and Kylo laugh against one another’s lips, completely caught up in your own bubble, as Kylo lifts wet fruits to your lips and feeds you once again, joy sparking through his veins like the lightning which crackles in magnificent streaks across the sky.

“You did it my Emperor.” You grin at him, grasp his face in between your hands and kiss him there in the rain, kiss him as you close your eyes against the downpour as it shallowly floods the temple.

“No, no my blossom, we did it together.” Kylo grins back, kisses you and lets himself be kissed, elated, and so in love.

When the last of the audience has gone, and all the musicians and soldiers and even Goliath herself have left, the temple doors are sealed shut, and the rain moves west, down across the city towards the fields which will drink up the water and use it to grow luscious crops.

“We must do this every year,” You say, your eyes bright, little droplets clinging to your lashes as the pitter patter of rain fades from the temple, “Every year as they demand it, we must do it.”

“It would be an honor.” Kylo agrees. He rubs your stomach, wills it to happen, wills for you to get pregnant. His people will have beautiful and healthy babies, this he knows, but he wants that for you too, wants that for the both of you.

And as you two both look up through the roof of the temple at the stars as they shine brightly, you thank the heavens once again. Exhausted, you move from the soaking wet ceremonial bed, through the temple on shaky legs, legs which can barely hold you up. Come trickles down your thighs but neither you nor Kylo mind, you had been propped up on the pillow for long enough, you’re both sure.

You lead him behind the altar, through a secret passage and into a secret room, where there is a small bed in which he normally lays you down to worship your body. For now, it is enough to curl up against one another in the warm dry sheets, to lay your love down upon one another, and fall into a deep sleep.

                                                 ----------------------

Tagging pals!   @steeevienicks​ @heldcaptivebychaos​  @solotriplets​ @formerly-anonhamster​ @lookinsidemyhead​ @candycanes19​ @adamsnacc-kler​  @whiskey-bumblebee​ @magikevalynn​ @tinyplanet-explorers​ @chelsjnov​ @romancedeldiablo​ @helloimindelaware​  @autumnlovesadam​ @peterisparker​  @goodboybensolo​  @the-marvelatic​ @miasera​ @emily-strange​ @proxyfoxy​ @disaster-rose​ @hazydespair​ @yosoymuyloca​​ @1-800-choke-that-snoke​​ @ktellmeastory​​ @anongirl007​ @zimmerxman​​ @okk--maaan​ @flapjacques​​ @aweirdlookingtree​​ @callmemania-pls​​ @theold-ultraviolence​​ @og-selene​​ @pinkmoontribe-blog​​ @schopenhauerdeathsquad​​ @nekonaomitard​​ @feminine-machinegun​​ @carloswilliamcarlos​ @contesa-lui-alucard​

[anjuschiffer]

The Fabric Roll Of Fate

So this has been sitting in my WIPs since October of last year... Finally had the time to finish it up! More like I couldn’t sleep so I finally worked on it

Hope you enjoy it!

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Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo (welcome to the permanent taglist!)

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It was one of those random family outings, one of those moments that Damian was reluctantly dragged to

He just wanted to stay home and train for the upcoming fencing tournament in his school, one of the few things that Damian looked forward to in the school year

Yet here he was, being held captive and listening to Garyson talk for the umpteenth time about his daughter’s latest adventure

Finding an opening, Damian slips off, walking through alleyways to escape his family, eventually arriving to the fashion district of Gotham

He decides to enter the first store he sees, seeing as his hands were starting to get cold

He hated Gotham’s chilly and cold seasons. Spring was his favorite season.

As he ventures inside the store, he starts to look at the fabric inside, now wondering why fashion designers were so picky with their fabrics

It was when he saw two identical rolls of fabric that he decided to investigate for his answer

As he runs his hands across two white fabrics (linen and velvet), he notices the slight differences, not noticing that he was starting to mumble his observations

It was then that his hand bumps into someone else’s Damian turning to see a girl his age.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to bother you!” She quickly apologizes. “You were probably in your zone and-”

“I was simply looking at them. You didn’t interrupt anything.”

Damian watches as the girl relaxes and smiles at him.

“I see. Well, if you need any help, I’d be happy to help! Is there a certain reason you’re-”

“I was thinking of hiring someone to make me a suit for an upcoming event-” Damian attempted to lie (although he technically didn’t as his family was looking for one...not like he was going to tell them about the one he just found), taken aback when the girl looked at him with twinkling eyes. What was going on

“A suit? So I’m guessing a tux, but if you want something to make you standout- but I think you don���t want that, huh?” She begins to look him up and down, quickly mumbling some numbers to herself. “Black or any dark color would suit you, but having emerald accents-no! Gold accents would suit you better.” Damian remains silent as she circles him, not once placing a hand on him. “Shawl collars, traditional or modern could work. Definitely single breast, maybe tail-oh god no. No tails.” Damian watched as her eyes filled with happiness. “A cumberbund would definitely suit you. That’s where I can place the gold!”

Damian kept listening as the girl kept listing ideas to herself, watching with awe as she kept the ideas coming, eventually snapping out of his trance when she presented him a card.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to make that suit. Of course! The decision is yours if you’d allow me to make it.” He watches as the girl points to a phone number and email address in rose gold. “Give me a call, text or email if you decide to accept my offer. See ya!”

Damian is left dumbfounded as he watches her go and pick some fabric rolls, purchase them and then leave.

“What just happened?”

Damian looks at the all black card in his hand. On one side was the phone number and email. On the other, the letters M D C were on the card, a single line going through the three letters. Simple, yet elegant.

Damian ends up accepting the offer, setting to meet the girl that Friday afternoon after his classes.

When his family attempts to tag along, he tells them no, setting on going alone.

“Welcome to my humble home.” She greets him after picking him up (she insisted despite Damian saying he had his own mode of transport) at the rendezvous and then to her flat. He was faced with one of Gotham’s most expensive penthouses, Damian wondering who exactly was this girl who can afford one of his father’s expensive hotels.

“Do you...live by yourself?”

“Yup! Although my uncle- oh! How can I forget?” The girl says, closing the door behind her. “Sorry for the late introduction! My name’s Marinette. The one behind the upcoming brand MDC. I’m currently here for a commission. Although, by the looks of it, I might end up staying here in Gotham.”

He’s heard of her, the decade’s youngest designer in the fashion world, or so he’s heard.

“Now, let’s start with getting your measurements, shall we?”

One visit became two, to then various

And they were mainly never about his suit that she was making him.

He didn’t know why he found him attracted to her place...to her

But simply felt at home with her

He quickly learns everything about her. Her old school life, her friends, her ex, her parents, hobbies, and old commissions. 

At first he thought she graduated early from highschool because of her bully, but it turns out that it was because she already had all her requirements done and seeing that there was no other reason to stay, she left. Also, having more time is what she needed if she wanted to succeed in the fashion world. So when her uncle (who he learns is Jagged Stone) offered her a hand, she took it and came to Gotham.

But Damian didn’t just listen, he also talked about himself

About Titus, his family, his fencing tournament. His opinions on Selina. His mixed feelings about his mother.

His family kept trying to follow him, but they have yet to figure out where he would go every other afternoon and evening.

Months pass, the suit already done and ready to be worn, but it still wasn’t the day of the Gala yet. But even then, Damian still stopped by, often times letting Marinette use him as a mannequin and dress form

Sometimes they would continue to talk about their mundane lives or things from the past that still ate at them, anything for Damian to simply listen to her voice because while he didn’t fully accept it, he knew he had feelings for her.

A scene that happens:

“And the worst part was that Alya knew she was lying. Lila was definitely not there because Alya was there. She was the one who saw Ladybug capture the akuma not Lila. Lila wasn’t anywhere near Paris when it even happened!” Marinette huffed as she tippy toed to make sure she was measuring the correct portion of Damian’s back. 

Damian felt her presence ever so close to him, causing him to panic. Yes, he only allowed her to invade his personal space, but this was too much for his heart. 

The aroma of baked goods always radiated from her and being this close only made Damian want to become obsessed with the smell even more. 

“So even with that in mind, this Alya decided to take the other girl’s stance?” Marinette let out a sigh, walking in front of Damian and throwing the tape measure around his neck, causing him to tense up. 

“Yeah, and I guess that’s what really made me snap to reality when it came to Alya.” Mari frowned at that, tightening the tape closer to each other to get a collar measure. 

Lord, did she have no idea how much restraint Damian had to put himself under for just wanting to kiss her right now, but he knew better than than. 

He took her hands away from the tape, noticing her eyes lacking that shine they usually carry when she’s in the crafting zone. He looked at her hands, covered in calluses and a few sewing mishaps. Even when they were covered in painful memories, Marinette hands were still gentle. “What’s gentle?” 

Damian’s breath hitched, realizing that he said that last part out loud. 

“You are.” Damian said, bringing her hands to his lips to kiss. Damian couldn’t help but feel victorious at the sight of Marinette glowing pink. “You’re a gentle and kind person. She doesn’t deserve your kindness if she was willing to quickly push you aside like that.”

Marinette looked straight at Damian before throwing herself into his chest, almost causing him to tip back. “Thank you, Damian.”

A few days were left until the gala, and it just had to be that time when his stupid brothers found out about his meetings with Marinette (and him coning to terms that he absolutely loves her)

“A girl, huh?” Jason would tease while Dick tried to gathering more information about Damian’s “friend”

“She’s simply designing my suit for-”

“The gala. Sure Lil’ D.” Grayson would say before wanting to pry more information from him. 

“Why don’t you invite her to the gala?” Bruce proposes, Damian no thinking about it

“Maybe I will.” He regrets saying

And Marinette ends up saying yes, now panicking about what to wear

“What about that dress?” Damian points to her almost completed black dress.

A high collared black dress with long sleeves was what Damian was referring to. With an open back and skirt that fell to the ground, it’s golden accents by the collar that ran across the chest...it would match his own all black suit with golden accents at the shoulders and cumberbund. 

“That.. that could actually work.”

Time skip to the gala, where when the two arrive, they steal the spotlight because not only did Damian arrive with a date, but she was stunning. Despite being three inches taller than him, Marinette was perfect by his side

“So Damian, what’s her name and how’d you meet this girl?” Jason asked first, but to Dick’s annoyance.

“Her name’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the one behind both of our attires.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Dupain-Cheng.” Bruce manages to say despite being surprised by Damian’s new development.

“So how-” Tim attempted to ask, but marinette cut him off.

“We met at a fabric store. A fabric roll brought us together.”

The night goes on, with it ending by Marinette asking Damian to be her boyfriend. (Damian then also reveals that he was also going to ask her to be his girlfriend)

“Of course.” He says, having to stretch to kiss her, glad to have gone into that fabric store that day.

Sure, it was weird, but Damian was glad to day that a single fabric roll decided their fate of meeting each other.