#Fire Rated Glass Partition | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satansdarlin · 7 days ago

Text

Marigold Margins: Chapter one

Wayne Enterprises CEO!Tim Drake x Fem!reader

Notes: a thank you to my lovely gf for beta reading this for me, this has been set up to at least to have ten chapters but I might combine some into one. Tim and the reader are both in their early twenties between 21-25ish. (Also indi and scarlet might be the yns of their own up coming stories :^ if yall would be interested). Drop a comment or a reblog! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, slightly toxic work environment, dick being shameless and trying to set you and Tim up, timmy being cute

Word count: 8.4K

Rating: T

Shit, your feet hurt like a bitch. Your heels clicked against the marble floor, each step sending sharp reminders of the blisters forming on your skin. The golden stilettos had seemed like the perfect accent to your outfit this morning - now they felt like an exercise in masochism. Fashion over comfort: the eternal struggle.

"Morning, Gary," you called out to the janitor, who was already familiar with your early arrivals.

He paused his work, offering a knowing smile. "Good morning, miss. Mr. Drake hasn't made it in yet."

"Thanks for the heads up." You appreciated Gary's small kindnesses - they were rare enough in this department, where your rapid promotion to executive secretary had earned you more enemies than friends.

The executive elevator hummed to life as you pressed the button for the top floor. While waiting, you shifted your weight, trying to ease the pressure on your aching feet. Tension. The word perfectly described your entire situation at Wayne Enterprises. Was the forty-dollar hourly rate worth it? Absolutely. What secretary made that kind of money, complete with generous paid leave? But loving the job? That was... complicated.

The work itself came naturally to you. The real challenge was Timothy Jackson Drake himself. Everyone knew about him - Gotham's wonder boy, the youngest CEO in the country, part of the infamous Wayne family. But after a year as his secretary, you'd learned there was more to him than the nepotism narrative suggested. He'd earned his position through genuine brilliance and dedication. That same drive, however, meant he had... expectations. While never openly cruel, he could be relentlessly demanding.

The elevator announced your arrival with a soft chime. Your morning routine unfolded with practiced efficiency: lights on, computers booting up, files arranged on your desk. The coffee maker gurgled to life, filling the office with its rich aroma. You prepared Mr. Drake's desk with military precision - work files stacked just so, his favorite mug ready, a banana and granola bar positioned nearby (which he'd likely ignore until you forced lunch upon him).

Settling at your desk, you dove into the morning's emails and calls. The sound of dragging footsteps announced Tim's arrival, and you glanced up to find him looking like he'd just crawled out of bed - or perhaps never made it there at all. He mumbled something vaguely resembling gratitude before shuffling into his office, his silhouette visible through the frosted glass partition that separated your workspace from his. You watched as he slumped into his chair, took a long drink of coffee, and gradually transformed from zombie to CEO. It was a fascinating metamorphosis you'd witnessed countless times. The way his shoulders would straighten, how his eyes would sharpen from bleary to laser-focused. Even his typing changed - from hunt-and-peck to a rapid-fire staccato that filled the office.

"Meeting minutes from yesterday?" His voice carried through the intercom, significantly more human than his earlier greeting.

"Already uploaded to the shared drive and hard copies are in the blue folder on your desk," you replied, allowing yourself a small smile. After a year, you'd learned to anticipate his needs with almost supernatural accuracy.

"The Robertson contract?"

"Legal returned it this morning. I've highlighted the changes they suggested in yellow. Green tabs mark where you need to sign."

There was a pause, then: "What would I do without you?"

"Drown in paperwork and caffeine withdrawal," you answered before you could stop yourself. These little moments of casual banter were dangerous - they made it too easy to forget he was Timothy Drake-Wayne, your boss, and not just Tim, the overworked genius who occasionally made you laugh.

The intercom crackled with what might have been a chuckle. "Fair enough."

The morning proceeded with its usual rhythm until your phone buzzed with a text from Bruce Wayne's secretary. Your stomach dropped as you read the message: the Wayne patriarch was making one of his surprise visits. These always put Tim on edge, though he'd never admit it.

You pressed the intercom. "Mr. Wayne will be here in fifteen minutes."

The typing sounds from Tim's office stopped abruptly. Through the frosted glass, you could see him run a hand through his hair - a nervous tell you'd picked up on months ago.

"Right," he said, voice tight. "Can you-"

"I'll get fresh coffee, clear your schedule for the next hour, and make sure the quarterly reports are ready," you interrupted, already standing. "And yes, I'll grab you a proper breakfast from the café downstairs. You'll need more than a forgotten granola bar for this."

Another pause. "Have I mentioned you're terrifying sometimes?"

"Only when necessary, sir." You slipped on your torturous heels again, ignoring the protest from your feet. Bruce Wayne's visits always meant a performance - from everyone.

As you rushed to prepare for the impromptu meeting, you couldn't help but wonder what drama today would bring. Bruce Wayne's "casual visits" were never actually casual, and being caught in the crossfire between two of Gotham's most powerful men was not how you'd planned to spend your morning.

But then again, when did anything at Wayne Enterprises go according to plan?

You stood up when the elevator binged, quickly tapping the intercom to alert Tim with a short chirp. Your hands clasped professionally in front of you as your eyes landed on Mr. Wayne, himself. The man commanded attention without even trying, filling the space with his presence in a way that made your spacious reception area feel suddenly cramped.

"Good morning, Mr. Wayne. Mr. Drake is in his office." Your greeting was the perfect blend of professional courtesy and careful distance. Your gaze slid over to Samantha, Mr. Wayne's assistant, and you felt your smile tighten imperceptibly. She returned it with one of her trademark saccharine smiles, so sweet it could rot teeth. The fakeness radiated off her like cheap perfume.

Last thing you needed was another gentle lecture from Tim about "trying" to be nice to her. You still remembered his exact words from last time: "I know she's... difficult, but we need to maintain good relations with Bruce's office." Easy for him to say – he didn't have to deal with her passive-aggressive emails and tendency to "accidentally" schedule conflicts with Bruce's calendar.

Bruce Wayne nodded in acknowledgment, his steel-blue eyes taking in every detail of the office with that unnerving intensity he was famous for. "Thank you. The quarterly reports?"

You smoothly retrieved the leather portfolio from your desk. "All prepared, sir. I've included the updated projections you requested, along with the comparative analysis from last quarter." You handed it to him with practiced grace, careful to maintain eye contact for exactly the right amount of time – long enough to show confidence, short enough to show deference.

"Excellent." He accepted the portfolio, and you caught the slight raise of his eyebrows – approval? surprise? With Bruce Wayne, it was impossible to tell.

Samantha's voice cut through the moment like a dulled knife. "I hope those numbers match what we have downstairs. It would be... awkward if there were any discrepancies." Her tone suggested she'd enjoy nothing more.

You felt your smile freeze in place. "Everything has been triple-checked against the master database, of course." And quadruple-checked, because you'd learned early on that giving Samantha any ammunition was like handing matches to a pyromaniac.

The sound of Tim's office door opening saved you from further interaction. He emerged looking every inch the CEO – tie straight, jacket buttoned, not a hair out of place. The transformation from his earlier zombie state was complete.

"Bruce," he greeted, managing to make the single syllable sound both warm and professional. "I wasn't expecting you today."

"Best meetings are the unexpected ones," Bruce replied with that particular smile that always made you wonder if he actually believed that or just enjoyed keeping everyone on their toes.

You caught Tim's slight shoulder tension as he gestured toward his office. "Shall we?"

As they moved past your desk, Tim gave you the briefest of glances – a look you'd learned to interpret over months of working together. This one clearly said: "Hold all calls unless the building's on fire, and maybe even then."

Samantha lingered, adjusting her designer handbag with deliberate slowness. "I'll need copies of all correspondence between our offices from the last month," she announced, as if she hadn't already received them twice.

"I'll have those ready by the time the meeting concludes," you replied smoothly, silently adding 'you insufferable paper-pusher' in your head.

As she finally followed the men into Tim's office, you sank back into your chair, already pulling up the correspondence files. At least you'd had the foresight to grab that extra shot of espresso in your morning coffee. Something told you this was going to be a long day.

Eventually, as you'd expected, Samantha was ushered out of the room to give the two men privacy. The glass frosted further, obscuring Bruce and Tim from view – a clear signal that whatever discussion followed would be more about family than business. You mentally added "pick up comfort donuts" to your afternoon agenda, already knowing Tim's favorites: chocolate-glazed for regular bad days, Boston cream for family drama.

The rhythmic clicking of your keyboard filled the silence, punctuated only by Samantha's restless shuffling. She cleared her throat with obvious intent, and you looked up, raising an eyebrow in what you hoped was a passably polite expression.

"You know we've never actually talked," she began, voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Which is so weird considering aren't we the same age?"

You bit back the urge to point out that she was actually five years your senior and somehow acted a decade younger. The irony wasn't lost on you.

"How did you exactly get this job?" she pressed on, tilting her head in practiced curiosity. "I always heard Mr. Drake was... picky."

Your eye twitched at the obvious implication, but you maintained your composure. Years of advanced placement courses had taught you patience, if nothing else. "Mr. Drake hand picked me for this job," you responded, keeping your tone professional and detached.

She gasped with theatrical surprise, as if this wasn't common knowledge in the Wayne Enterprises gossip circuit. "Really? Do you mind if I ask why?"

'Yes,' you thought, but instead rolled your head side to side, releasing some tension with a satisfying pop. "No, I don't mind. Mr. Drake chose me because he met me through the Martha Wayne scholarship. I was looking for a job during that time and my professors recommended me for the position."

You deliberately omitted how Tim had tracked your academic career with interest long before that – how you'd graduated high school two years early, earned a full ride to Gotham University, and excelled in advanced courses he'd specifically recommended. Let her draw her own conclusions; you had nothing to prove to Samantha or anyone else.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken questions. You could practically see her trying to piece together a narrative that fit her preconceptions, one that wouldn't force her to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, you'd earned your position through merit rather than whatever implications she was so eager to make.

Before she could formulate another sugar-coated barb, your phone buzzed with an incoming email. The subject line made you suppress a smile: it was from Tim, sent from his phone.

"If you'll excuse me," you said, turning back to your computer with practiced dismissal, "I have some urgent matters to attend to."

You could feel her hovering, reluctant to give up her fishing expedition. But years of dealing with Gotham's elite had taught you the art of creating an impenetrable wall of professional busy-ness. After a few more moments, she finally retreated to one of the waiting area chairs, her designer heels clicking in defeat.

Opening Tim's email, you found a single line: "Order lunch in. This might take a while."

You glanced at the frosted glass of his office, wondering what family drama was unfolding behind it. In your year working here, you'd learned to read the signs: the level of frosting on the glass, the tension in Tim's shoulders, the particular way Bruce Wayne's visits seemed timed to maximize inconvenience. Something was definitely up, and judging by the atmosphere, it was bigger than the usual Wayne family dynamics.

"The Martha Wayne scholarship?" Samantha's voice dripped with faux interest, her voice cutting through your thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. "That must have been... nice. Getting a free ride like that."

Your fingers paused briefly over your keyboard before resuming their steady rhythm. Two could play at this game. "It was an honor," you replied evenly. "The foundation only selects the top 1% of applicants. I'm sure you're familiar with the process, working so closely with Mr. Wayne."

Her smile flickered for just a moment. "Oh, I handle more of the... executive side of things."

"Of course." You kept your eyes on your screen, responding to an urgent email from R&D while she processed your subtle jab.

"Still," she persisted, examining her manicured nails, "it must be challenging, working for someone so... young. Especially given your... background."

You felt your jaw clench but maintained your professional demeanor. "Mr. Drake's age has nothing to do with his capabilities. He's one of the most brilliant minds in Gotham's business sector." Your tone carried just enough edge to make it clear you wouldn't tolerate any disparagement of Tim.

"Oh, I didn't mean anything by it," Samantha backpedaled, though her smirk suggested otherwise. "It's just that some of us had to work our way up the traditional path. But I suppose there are... other ways to advance."

You actually had to bite your tongue to keep from pointing out that her "traditional path" had involved an uncle on the board of directors. Instead, you smiled pleasantly and reached for your coffee. "Everyone's path is different. For instance, I started in the scholarship program at fifteen, finished my degree at twenty, and earned this position through academic excellence and practical capability. But you're right – there are many ways to advance."

The subtle emphasis on your achievements made her shift uncomfortably in her chair. Before she could respond, your intercom buzzed.

"Miss (L/N), could you send in the Miller files?" Tim's voice was perfectly professional, but you caught the underlying tension.

"Right away, Mr. Drake." You stood, gathering the requested documents, grateful for the interruption. As you moved toward his office, you called back to Samantha, "Please excuse me. Duty calls."

You could feel her glare burning into your back as you approached Tim's door, but you kept your posture straight and your stride confident. You'd worked too hard to let someone like Samantha make you doubt your place here, even for a second.

Besides, you had more important things to worry about – like what kind of family drama was causing that muscle in Tim's jaw to twitch visible even through the frosted glass, and whether you should upgrade those comfort donuts to a full stress-eating care package. You handed him the files before going back to your desk.

Your phone buzzed against the desk, the screen lighting up with a notification that made your stomach turn.

Text notification: 1

Asshole: hey bbg can we talk? I know you're probably still mad at me…

You swiped away Josh's message with perhaps more force than necessary. Josh. Your sweet, charming, lying ex-boyfriend who apparently thought "probably still mad" was an adequate response to finding him in bed with your supposed best friend. You'd been playing an exhausting game of dodge-the-ex across Gotham for weeks now, removing yourself from your usual haunts just to avoid his attempts at "explaining." The mere thought of him made your skin crawl.

"Whose that? Your little boyfriend?" Samantha's sugary voice cut through your thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. How someone could have such a grating voice was beyond you.

"Ex. Ex-boyfriend," you corrected automatically, then mentally kicked yourself for engaging. You shook your head, redirecting to safer, professional territory. "I'd rather not talk about it. Do you think you could send over the info for the upcoming Christmas gala when you get back to your office?"

Samantha's face fell into an exaggerated pout at your deflection, clearly disappointed at being denied fresh gossip fodder. You could practically see her filing away this nugget of personal information for future use. Nothing stayed private for long in Wayne Enterprises, but you'd be damned if you gave her the satisfaction of spreading this particular story.

Your phone buzzed again, and you flipped it face-down with a bit more force than necessary. The movement caught Samantha's attention, her eyes lighting up with predatory interest.

"Bad breakup?" she pressed, leaning forward slightly. "Those are always so... difficult. Especially when you have to maintain a professional image at work."

The implied threat in her words – that she could make this gossip very public, very quickly – wasn't lost on you. But you'd handled worse than Samantha's attempts at social manipulation.

"The Christmas gala details?" you repeated, your tone making it clear the previous topic was closed for discussion. "Mr. Drake needs to review the schedule, and I'd like to avoid any potential conflicts with Mr. Wayne's calendar."

Her lips pursed at your professional pivot, but before she could attempt another probe into your personal life, the sound of approaching footsteps from Tim's office made you both straighten instinctively. The frosting on the glass cleared as Bruce emerged first, his expression unreadable as always. Tim followed, and your trained eye caught the tension in his shoulders, the slight clench of his jaw that spelled out family drama in neon letters.

"I'll expect those reports by Friday," Bruce stated, though something in his tone suggested this wasn't really about reports at all.

"Of course," Tim replied, professional mask firmly in place. Only someone who knew him well would catch the slight strain in his voice.

Samantha jumped to attention, gathering her things with practiced efficiency. "I'll send over the gala information this afternoon," she chirped, finally, blessedly ready to leave.

You watched as Bruce and Samantha departed, waiting until the elevator doors closed before turning to Tim. He was still standing there, staring at the closed elevator doors as if they held the secrets of the universe.

"I ordered Thai from that place you like," you said softly. "And I can have someone grab those donuts from downtown if-"

"You're a lifesaver," he interrupted, running a hand through his carefully styled hair, completely destroying its professional arrangement. "But can we... can we not eat in the office?"

You blinked in surprise. In all your time working here, Tim had never suggested leaving the office for lunch. "Of course. Where would you prefer?"

"The roof?" He looked almost sheepish suggesting it. "I just... I need air that doesn't smell like Wayne Enterprises for a few minutes."

Your phone buzzed again – probably Josh – but you ignored it. "I'll grab the food when it arrives. You should go up now, get some fresh air."

He nodded, already loosening his tie as he headed for the stairwell. Twenty minutes later, you found him sitting on the maintenance ledge, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, looking more like a college student than a CEO.

"One Pad Thai with extra peanuts," you announced, settling down beside him with the takeout bags. "And yes, I grabbed extra spring rolls."

"You know me too well," he managed a small smile, accepting the container you handed him. "I'm sorry about..." he gestured vaguely with his chopsticks, "all that."

"Family's complicated," you offered, carefully keeping your tone neutral as you opened your own lunch.

"Bruce wants me to relocate to the Metropolis office," he said suddenly, staring out at the Gotham skyline. "Says it would be 'good for my professional development.'"

You nearly choked on your spring roll. "Metropolis?"

"Yeah." He stabbed at his noodles with more force than necessary. "Because apparently running the Gotham office isn't enough of a challenge."

"That's ridiculous," you said before you could stop yourself. "You've increased productivity by 40% since taking over, our client retention is at an all-time high, and the employee satisfaction surveys-"

"Have you been memorizing my achievements?" He turned to look at you, a hint of amusement breaking through his stress.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. "It's my job to know these things."

"Right. Your job." Something flickered across his face too quickly to read. "Speaking of jobs... you'd have to come too, you know. To Metropolis. If I agreed."

Your heart did a complicated flip in your chest. "Are you... considering it?"

"No," he said quickly, then paused. "Maybe. I don't know." He set down his food and turned to face you fully. "Would you? Come to Metropolis, I mean? If I asked?"

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications neither of you were ready to address. Your phone buzzed again in your pocket, but for once, you didn't even notice.

You hummed softly, letting your gaze drift over Gotham's sprawling landscape. From this height, you could actually see past the city's ever-present smog, though any true Gothamite knew the city's real beauty emerged after dark. The endless sea of lights, the way the neon cut through the darkness – it was home, or at least it had been.

Your phone buzzed again, another message from Josh joining the pile. You glanced down at the string of notifications, each one a reminder of how quickly your social circle had imploded. Some friends they'd turned out to be – taking his side, sending nasty messages about how a "prude" like you had it coming. The betrayal still stung, but maybe not as sharply as it should. Maybe that said something about how ready you were to leave it all behind.

Your parents had always encouraged you to spread your wings beyond Gotham's borders anyway. "The world's bigger than Crime Alley," your mom used to say. You slipped the phone back into your pocket, silencing the ghosts of relationships past.

"Yeah, I'd come with you," you said finally, turning back to Tim with a slight smile. "It's my job to be at your side during all the professional hours anyway."

Something shifted in his expression at your words. "'Professional hours,'" he repeated, as if testing the phrase. "Right. Because that's what this is about. Professional... obligations."

The way he said it made your heart skip a beat. There was a weight to his words that seemed to encompass more than just office dynamics and working relationships. The autumn breeze picked up, carrying with it the distant sounds of the city below, and you found yourself hyperaware of how close you were sitting, how his rolled-up sleeves revealed surprisingly toned forearms, how his hair was still slightly mussed from running his hands through it.

"Tim," you started, then caught yourself. "Mr. Drake-"

"Don't," he interrupted softly. "Don't do that. Not up here." He gestured to the expanse around you. "We're literally above all that right now."

Your phone buzzed again, and this time Tim noticed your slight wince. "Everything okay?"

"Just..." you waved a hand dismissively, "ex-boyfriend drama. Nothing important."

His expression darkened slightly. "Josh?" At your surprised look, he added quickly, "I... might have overheard some break room gossip. About what happened."

"Great," you muttered, heat rising to your cheeks. "Good to know my humiliation made it all the way to the executive floor."

"Hey," his voice was gentle but firm, "you're not the one who should be humiliated. He's the idiot who-" he cut himself off, jaw clenching. "Sorry. Not my place."

"No, it's..." you found yourself smiling despite everything, "it's kind of nice. Hearing someone take my side for once."

The look he gave you then made your breath catch. "I'm always on your side," he said quietly, and somehow you knew he meant more than just the Josh situation.

You forced yourself to take a steady breath, trying to calm your racing heart. No. Absolutely not. You were not going to develop feelings for your boss. It didn't matter that Tim was barely a year older than you, or that his disheveled appearance right now made him look unfairly attractive, or that the way he was looking at you made your stomach do flips. This was a completely professional relationship and it would stay that way. You cleared your throat and offered him a carefully measured smile.

"Well, if we do end up moving to the Metropolis office, I'd have to start looking at apartments over there," you murmured, already running calculations in your head. Even with your generous salary, Metropolis real estate prices were notorious. Maybe you could find something affordable downtown, though the commute would be rough. Your inner penny-pincher was already cringing at the potential security deposits and elevated cost of living.

"About that," Tim straightened slightly, his expression shifting to something you couldn't quite read. "Wayne Enterprises has corporate housing in Metropolis. High-rise apartments, actually. Usually reserved for executives and their... key personnel."

The way he said 'key personnel' made your pulse jump again. Traitor heart.

"Key personnel?" you echoed, trying to keep your tone light.

"Well," he shifted slightly closer, and you caught a whiff of his expensive cologne mixed with coffee, "can't have my irreplaceable assistant living in some sketchy downtown apartment, can I?"

"I'm hardly irreplaceable," you protested weakly, even as your brain helpfully reminded you that no other assistant had lasted more than three months before you.

Tim's expression turned serious. "You are, though. You're the only one who's ever..." he paused, seeming to choose his words carefully, "understood. The job. The pressure. Me."

The last word hung in the air between you, loaded with unspoken implications. You became acutely aware of how close you were sitting, how easy it would be to just lean a little closer, how his eyes seemed to darken as they met yours.

Your phone buzzed again, shattering the moment. Tim's gaze flickered to your pocket, then back to your face, something almost like frustration crossing his features.

You sighed, glancing down at your persistently buzzing pocket. "I should probably..." you mumbled, finally pulling out your phone. You knew Josh well enough to know he wouldn't stop until you dealt with him directly. Your face twisted in disgust as you scrolled through the barrage of messages – a nauseating mix of sweet manipulation ("baby, please, we can work this out"), degrading insults, and crude comments about your intimate life together. The last ones made your skin crawl, especially his boasts about being the 'only one who could make you feel that good.' Gross.

You could feel Tim's eyes on you as you stared at the screen, trying to formulate a response that wouldn't just feed into Josh's need for attention. The weight of Tim's gaze was different from the usual scrutiny you felt in the office – more protective than professional.

"Maybe you should just block him?" Tim suggested, his voice carrying an edge you rarely heard. The CEO tone, as you privately called it – the one that made board members squirm.

You shook your head, words tumbling out before you could stop them. "No way. I need him to see I can live without him." The admission hung in the air, more vulnerable than you'd intended. Your fingers hovered over your phone's keypad as you entered your passcode, very aware of how childish that might sound to someone like Tim.

But when you glanced up, there was no judgment in his expression – just something fierce and protective that made your breath catch. He shifted closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body in the cool rooftop air.

"He already sees it," Tim said quietly, his eyes fixed on your face. "Every day you walk into this building, every meeting you handle perfectly, every time you prove you're exactly where you belong – that's you living without him. And doing it better than he could ever imagine."

The intensity in his voice made you look up, and suddenly you were trapped in his gaze, your phone temporarily forgotten in your hands. This wasn't your boss speaking anymore – this was something else entirely, something that made your heart race and your professional boundaries start to blur.

Your breath caught as you suddenly became hyperaware of every point of contact between you – his fingers wrapped gently but firmly around your bicep, his head tilted toward yours, close enough that you could see the flecks of blue in his eyes. "Mr. Drake, I-"

He rolled his eyes, but there was a playful warmth in the gesture that made your stomach flip. "Tim. Just Tim for right now."

Your lips parted to respond, but the creak of the rooftop door shattered the moment. Dick Grayson, the eldest Wayne sibling, emerged into the afternoon light, and Tim immediately pulled back, professional distance snapping into place like a shield. The sudden absence of his warmth left you feeling oddly bereft.

"Hey Timbo, sorry to interrupt your lunch but I need a favor." Dick's trademark charming smile did nothing to soften Tim's exasperated expression.

"Sure, just let me finish my food-" Tim paused, catching something in Dick's expression. "This is kind of favor you need now?" When Dick nodded apologetically, Tim grumbled but began closing his takeout container.

Before standing, he turned back to you, placing his hand over your phone. His eyes locked with yours with an intensity that made your knees weak despite sitting down. "Block him." It wasn't a request – it was pure CEO Tim Drake, the voice that brokered no argument. "We won't have room for people like him if we move to Metropolis, am I understood?"

The 'we' in that sentence felt weighted with possibility, but you pushed that thought aside. "Yes, Mr. Drake."

You watched as he gathered his things, noting how his professional mask slipped perfectly back into place, though something in his eyes remained softer when he looked at you. As he followed Dick toward the door, you could have sworn you saw him shoot his brother an irritated look.

Your phone buzzed again in your hands, but this time, instead of anxiety, you felt a surge of determination. Tim was right – you didn't need Josh's validation. With steady fingers, you pulled up his contact information and hit 'block.'

The city stretched out below you, Metropolis somewhere beyond the horizon, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe properly.

Red and blue lights pulsed across your face as the bass thundered through your chest, making your ribs vibrate with each beat. The news of the Metropolis transfer was official now – you and Tim would be heading the new office. You couldn't quite suppress the smug satisfaction you'd felt watching Samantha's face fall when the announcement was made, her practiced smile cracking just slightly at the edges.

Now, though, you were somewhat regretting sharing the news with your family. Your elder sisters had immediately sprung into celebration mode: Indi, the successful Gotham model, had easily swept you all past the velvet ropes of one of the city's hottest clubs, while Scarlet had managed a few congratulatory drinks before motherhood called her home to your nephew.

That left you nursing a dirty triple Shirley temple (which had been a mouthful to order over the deafening music) and hugging the wall like it was your job. From your vantage point, you could see Indi on the dance floor, practically melded to some guy she'd been flirting with all night. The sequins on her dress caught the strobing lights, making her look like some sort of disco ball goddess – exactly the kind of attention-grabbing presence she was known for.

You took another sip of your drink, the cherry sweetness a sharp contrast to the adult addition of vodka. The music shifted, something with a heavier beat that made the crowd surge with renewed energy. You checked your phone out of habit – no more texts from Josh, thank god, but there was a work email notification that made your heart skip:

From: Timothy Drake-Wayne

Subject: Tomorrow's Schedule Change

Time Sent: 10:47 PM

Your finger hovered over the notification, debating whether to open it. Tim had been... different since that day on the roof. Not obviously so – you both maintained perfect professionalism in the office – but there were moments: lingering glances, fingers brushing when passing documents, the way he'd started saying your name just a touch softer than necessary.

As you hesitated to open it someone bumped into you, luckily you saved your drink from spilling all over the black halter dress you were wearing showing off your back.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't-” the masculine voice was cut off as you looked up and you both stilled. Seeing Tim out of a suit was jarring, seeing tim out of a suit and in a club? That was wild.

“Mr. Drake!”

“We are out of work. Just tim” he sighed at you but it was almost in a pleased exasperation.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Drake but you'll have to try harder than that,” The teasing words slipped out before you could stop them. Tim blinked and then a wry smirk pulled on his face.

Tim's eyes darkened at your challenge, that CEO intensity suddenly focused entirely on you. "Try harder?" He stepped closer, just shy of improper, voice dropping low enough that you had to lean in to hear him over the music. "What exactly would that take?"

The bass pulsed through your bodies, and you were acutely aware of how different this felt from your usual office dynamics. Here, in the strobing lights and thundering music, with your back exposed by the halter dress and his suit traded for dark jeans and a fitted black henley, the careful professional distance you maintained seemed to blur and shift.

"Tim!" A familiar voice cut through the moment. Dick Grayson emerged from the crowd, another brother – Jason – trailing behind him. "Thought I saw you come this way." His eyes landed on you, and his grin widened. "Well, well. Fancy meeting you here."

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, suddenly very conscious of how close you and Tim were standing. "Mr. Grayson," you managed, trying to sound professional despite the club setting.

"Oh god, not you too," Dick groaned. "It's just Dick, please. We're not at work."

"Leave her alone," Jason cut in, giving you a knowing look. "Some of us appreciate proper manners." He turned to Tim with a smirk. "Though I gotta say, baby bird, running into your secretary at a club? That's some rom-com level timing."

"Assistant," you and Tim corrected simultaneously, then shared a quick glance that made Dick's grin grow impossibly wider.

"Right, assistant," Jason drawled, making the word sound far more suggestive than it had any right to be. "The one Bruce mentioned is moving to Metropolis with you?"

The music shifted again, something slower but still thrumming with energy. Tim's jaw tightened slightly at the mention of Bruce, and you found yourself unconsciously shifting closer, a movement that didn't go unnoticed by his brothers.

"Speaking of Metropolis," Dick's eyes gleamed with mischief, "I hear the nightlife there is pretty tame compared to Gotham. You two might have to make your own entertainment."

"Dick," Tim's voice carried a warning edge that made you think of board meetings and difficult clients.

"What? I'm just saying, all those late nights in the office..." Dick trailed off suggestively.

You took a long sip of your drink, using the moment to steady yourself. "I should probably find my sister," you said, looking for an escape from this increasingly dangerous conversation. "She tends to get... ambitious when left unsupervised too long."

"The model?" Jason asked, eyebrows rising. "Tall, sequined dress, currently wrapped around that guy by the DJ booth?"

You turned to look where he was pointing, and sure enough, there was Indi, having apparently upgraded from her previous dance partner. "That's her."

"Runs in the family, huh?" Dick muttered, too quiet for anyone but Jason to hear, though the sharp look Tim shot him suggested he'd caught it too.

"I'll walk you over," Tim said suddenly, placing a hand on the small of your back. The touch sent electricity down your spine, his fingers warm against your exposed skin.

As you moved through the crowd, Tim's hand stayed steady on your back, guiding you through the press of bodies. The contact felt simultaneously too much and not enough, and you found yourself hyperaware of every brush of his fingers, every slight pressure as he steered you around dancing couples.

"I didn't know you came to places like this," you said, having to lean close to his ear to be heard over the music. His cologne filled your senses, different from his usual office scent – something darker, spicier.

He leaned down, his breath tickling your ear as he replied, "I don't, usually. Dick dragged me out to 'celebrate' the Metropolis news." His tone on 'celebrate' suggested this wasn't entirely voluntary. "Though it's looking up now."

The implications in that last statement made your heart race, and you were grateful for the dim lighting hiding your blush. You were nearing the DJ booth now, Indi's sequined dress acting like a beacon in the strobing lights.

Tim's hand slipped from your back as you reached the edge of the dance floor, and the loss of contact felt almost physical. You turned to face him, finding his eyes already on you, intense despite the chaotic lighting.

"About that email," he said, stepping closer to be heard over the music. "I was wondering if you'd like to-"

"Baby sis!" Indi's voice cut through whatever Tim was about to say. She detached herself from her dance partner, practically bouncing over to you. "There you are! And with company?" Her eyes raked over Tim appreciatively. "Very nice company."

"Mr. Drake-Wayne," you introduced formally, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism even as Indi's eyebrows shot up in recognition.

"Your boss?" she stage-whispered, not nearly as quietly as she probably thought. "The one you're moving to Metropolis with?" Her grin turned predatory. "Oh, this is interesting."

You felt your face flame. "Indi-"

"Dance with us!" she declared, already reaching for both you and Tim. "Consider it a pre-Metropolis celebration!"

The music swelled, and you found yourself being pulled onto the dance floor, Tim's amused expression the last thing you saw before the crowd swallowed you up. His hand found yours in the chaos, steady and warm, and suddenly the bass didn't seem quite so overwhelming.

As Indi disappeared back into the crowd, presumably to find her previous dance partner, you felt Tim pull you closer, his other hand finding its way back to your exposed back.

"So," he said, mouth close to your ear, "about that email..."

Your heart thundered in time with the music as you waited for him to continue, but a commotion near the bar caught your attention. Your eyes widened as you recognized a familiar figure being escorted out by security.

"Is that...?" Tim followed your gaze.

"Josh," you confirmed, watching as your ex-boyfriend was firmly guided toward the exit, his protests lost in the music. "I didn't even know he came here."

Tim's hand tightened slightly on your back. "Want me to have security make sure he stays out?"

The protective edge in his voice made something warm bloom in your chest. "No," you said, surprising yourself with how much you meant it. "He's not worth the effort anymore."

Tim's eyes softened as he looked at you, and suddenly the club, the music, even Josh's dramatic exit – it all faded into background noise. "Good," he said quietly, though you heard him perfectly despite the chaos around you. "Because I was thinking..."

The music shifted again, something slower, more intimate, and Tim pulled you imperceptibly closer.

"Yes?" you prompted, your heart racing as his hand traced small circles on your back.

"Maybe we should discuss those Metropolis arrangements... over dinner?"

The implications in his tone made it clear this wasn't about corporate housing or office logistics. You looked up at him, finding nothing but sincerity in his eyes, and felt a smile tug at your lips.

"That would be highly unprofessional, Mr. Drake," you said, but there was no real protest in your voice.

His answering smile was worth every HR regulation you were about to break. "I thought you told me to try harder, hm?"

And there, in the middle of a Gotham nightclub, with your ex being thrown out and your sister probably watching with glee, you finally let yourself lean into the warmth of Timothy Drake-Wayne's embrace.

"Dinner sounds perfect," you whispered, "Tim."

His smile could have lit up all of Gotham.

That's how you and Tim had gotten swept over into a booth and were actually just talking for once. Well. You both might have been a bit tipsy.

“Honestly Josh wasn't even my worst ex. There was this one girl, Maxine. Max and I dated for like all of college but she'd never bring me home or anything cause she was still closeted and stuff which I mean I get it. I didn't come out til I was like sixteenish luckily my family had enough things to worry about with my sister scarlet becoming a mom that one of us being bi-sexual was kinda glossed over. But anyway Max ended up breaking up with me and getting engaged to just some guy within like a month.” Your hands moved as you spoke, nearly sloshing your drink but Tim steadied it for you and gave a sympathetic nod.

“I get that,” he murmured. Your eyes trailed over the crowd again silently checking up on your sister. You nearly spat your drink out causing Tim to also look over. “I think your brother is trying to serenade my sister.”

You watched in horror and slight pride as indi and dick were clearly flirting with each other on the other side of the club.

“Probably planning how to embarrass us next too,” Tim hummed his hand resting on your thigh.

You let out a soft laugh, not moving away from his touch. "Oh god, can you imagine the family dinners? Indi would absolutely weaponize her model status to terrorize Bruce Wayne."

Tim's thumb traced absent patterns on your thigh, sending little sparks of electricity through your body. "Honestly? I'd pay to see that. Bruce needs someone to ruffle his feathers occasionally." His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Though I have to say, you've been doing a pretty good job of that yourself."

"Me?" You blinked in surprise, taking another sip of your drink.

"Mmhmm." Tim shifted closer, his shoulder pressing against yours in the intimate space of the booth. "The way you handle Samantha? Your complete overhaul of the filing system? That presentation you gave last week?" His voice dropped lower. "Bruce hasn't been this impressed by anyone since Barbara Gordon herself."

The comparison to the legendary Barbara Gordon – now CFO of Wayne Tech – made you flush with pride and embarrassment. "I just do my job."

"No," Tim's voice was serious now, though his hand remained warm on your thigh. "You do so much more than that. You..." he paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. "You make everything better. Easier. Not just the work stuff, but..." he gestured vaguely with his free hand, "everything."

The vulnerability in his voice made your heart clench. You'd never seen him quite like this – guard down, words flowing freely, eyes soft in the dim club lighting. It was a far cry from the composed CEO who commanded boardrooms and managed million-dollar deals.

"Speaking of making things better," you said, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy moment, "remember that time you caught me stress-eating donuts in the supply closet after the Johnson meeting?"

Tim's laugh rumbled through his chest. "And instead of being professional about it, I just sat down and asked for one?" His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Best decision I ever made. Though I still maintain Boston cream is superior to your chocolate glazed preference."

"Excuse you, chocolate glazed is a classic for a reason." You nudged his shoulder playfully, then froze as you caught sight of Dick and Indi again. "Oh my god, they're exchanging numbers."

Tim followed your gaze and groaned. "Dick's never going to let this go. He's probably already planning double dates."

The casual way he said 'double dates' made your stomach flip. "Is that what this is?" you asked before you could stop yourself. "A date?"

Tim's hand tightened slightly on your thigh as he turned to face you fully. The booth suddenly felt much smaller, more intimate. "Do you want it to be?"

Your breath caught as you met his gaze. There was no trace of the CEO now – this was just Tim, looking at you like you were something precious and dangerous all at once.

"I..." you started, then jumped as someone slid into the booth opposite you.

"Baby bird!" Jason's voice cut through the moment like a knife. "And the assistant who's definitely just an assistant." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Tim's hand didn't move from your thigh, though you saw his jaw clench slightly. "What do you want, Jason?"

"Can't a guy check on his baby brother?" Jason's grin was positively feral. "Especially when said brother is getting cozy with his very attractive employee in a very public place?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but before you could formulate a response, Indi appeared at the table, Dick in tow.

"Sister swap!" she announced cheerfully. "Dick's taking me to this amazing late-night food truck, and you" she pointed at you with a perfectly manicured finger, "are coming with us because I refuse to eat street food alone with a strange man, even if he is unreasonably attractive."

"Hey!" Dick protested, though he was grinning.

You felt Tim's hand squeeze your thigh once before reluctantly withdrawing. "Rain check on that answer?" he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

Your heart did a complicated flip in your chest as you nodded. As you slid out of the booth, letting Indi pull you toward the exit, you couldn't help but look back. Tim was watching you go, something intense and promising in his expression that made your skin tingle.

"So," Indi linked her arm through yours as you emerged into the cool Gotham night, Dick and Jason trailing behind you. "Want to tell me why you never mentioned how hot your boss is? Or why his hand was very obviously on your thigh for the past hour?"

"Or why you're both looking at each other like you're starring in your own personal rom-com?" Dick added helpfully.

You groaned, but couldn't quite suppress your smile. "Can we just focus on finding this amazing food truck you mentioned?"

"Oh honey," Indi's grin was wicked, "you really think we're letting this go? You're about to move to Metropolis with that man. This is prime sisterly interrogation material."

As your sister dragged you through the neon-lit streets of Gotham, Dick and Jason providing running commentary on the best late-night eateries, you found your thoughts drifting back to the booth, to Tim's touch, to that unanswered question hanging between you.

Your phone buzzed in your purse:

From: Tim

Message: Dinner tomorrow? Somewhere without nosy siblings?

You bit your lip to hide your smile as you typed back a response:

To: Tim

Message: Only if you promise to let me order chocolate glazed dessert.

His reply was immediate:

From: Tim

Message: Deal. Though I still say Boston cream is superior.

"Oh my god, you're texting him already, aren't you?" Indi peered over your shoulder. "This is adorable. Dick, look how adorable they are!"

"I hate all of you," you declared, but your grin betrayed you.

"No you don't," Dick said cheerfully. "Just wait until family game night. Bruce is going to have an aneurysm."

As your sister and the Wayne brothers debated the merits of various food trucks, your phone buzzed one last time:

From: Tim

Message: For the record? I definitely want it to be a date.

The Gotham night suddenly felt a lot warmer.

"You know, we do have another sister-"

"Indi! Stop it!"

You lunged for your eldest sister, but she was already showing Dick and Jason photos of Scarlet on her phone. Running a hand down your face, you fought the urge to text your other sister a warning about Indi's matchmaking schemes.

"Scarlet might actually kill you, you know," you deadpanned. Indi just shrugged, elegant and unrepentant in her sequined glory.

"That girl needs more to life than her shop and Harkin," she stated with a dramatic eye roll, scrolling to another photo.

"Harkin brings up my point. She's a mom, Indi. She can't just—"

"Lalalala can't hear you!" Indi sang out, covering her ears like a child rather than the successful model she was.

"I swear you are not the oldest out of all of us," you muttered, watching as Dick and Jason peered at the phone with increasing interest. "She runs a successful business, has an adorable kid, and is actually happy. Why are you like this?"

Dick looked up from the phone, his expression thoughtful. "The flower shop on Kane Street? With the blue awning?"

"You know it?" you asked, surprised.

"Bruce gets arrangements from there sometimes," Jason supplied, then smirked. "Though I'm betting he'll be ordering a lot more now that his son's dating the owner's sister."

"We're not—" you started automatically, then stopped, thinking of Tim's text burning a hole in your phone. Were you? The memory of his hand on your thigh, his quiet question in the booth, made your cheeks warm.

"Oooh, she's blushing!" Indi crowed triumphantly. "And here I thought Scarlet would be the one to snag a Wayne. She always was the pretty one—"

"Shut up," you groaned, snatching her phone. "Scarlet will murder us both if she finds out you're showing her photos to random men in clubs."

"Random men?" Dick pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I'll have you know we are now practically family. In fact..." He plucked Indi's phone from your grasp with surprising agility and continued scrolling. "As your future brother-in-law, I think I have a right to know all about my new sisters."

"Oh my god," you muttered, watching helplessly as Indi and Dick huddled over the phone, Jason offering commentary that was absolutely not helping.

Your phone buzzed again:

From: Tim

Message: Everything okay? Jason just sent me a very cryptic text about flower shops.

You looked up to find Jason watching you with a knowing smirk. "Did you seriously just text him?"

"Someone's gotta keep baby bird in the loop," he shrugged. "Besides, your sister's shop really does do nice arrangements. Bruce wasn't lying about that."

"The pink roses last month were from there," Dick added absently, still scrolling with Indi. "The ones for that charity gala?"

You remembered those roses. Scarlet had spent hours getting the gradient just right, each bloom a slightly different shade of pink fading to white. She'd been so proud of that order, even if she hadn't known it was for Wayne Enterprises.

"Speaking of flowers," Indi's eyes gleamed dangerously, "didn't Scarlet just hire that new delivery guy? The one with the motorcycle?"

"Indi, I swear to god—"

Your phone buzzed again:

From: Tim

Message: Should I be worried that Dick just asked Alfred for the flower shop's number?

You typed back quickly:

To: Tim

Message: Your brothers are conspiring with my sister. Send help.

His response was immediate:

From: Tim

Message: On my way. Though I should warn you, once Dick gets an idea in his head...

You looked up to find Indi and Dick exchanging contact information, presumably to better coordinate their matchmaking schemes, while Jason watched the whole thing with undisguised amusement.

To: Tim

Message: Too late. I think we're going to be seeing a lot of family dinners in our future.

From: Tim

Message: Good thing I like your family then. Even if Indi is currently plotting with Dick to revolutionize Wayne Enterprises' floral arrangements.

Despite everything, you couldn't help but smile. Your ridiculous family and his ridiculous brothers, all tangled up in each other's lives now. It should have been terrifying, but somehow...

"See?" Indi nudged you, having apparently finished her plotting with Dick. "This is what happens when you finally let yourself have some fun. Now come on, that food truck isn't going to wait forever."

As you let yourself be pulled along the Gotham streets, your phone warm with Tim's messages in your hand, you thought maybe – just maybe – your sister had a point.

Even if you'd never, ever admit it to her face.

Taglist:

@ahqkas

@prettyktarou

@a-candle-maker

@mact85

@babxtxxn-blog

@mercys-manic-episode

@lilithskywalker

@princesstrunkz

@a-taken-url

#fluff #timothy drake #tim drake #tim drake x reader #red robin #red robin x reader #ceo!tim drake

102 notes · View notes

wrenjacobswrites · 1 year ago

Text

Title: Averno

By: Me :)

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Marvel/Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

Ship: Namor/Shuri

Summary: The internal validity (or weakness) of the plan to marry and breed with Namor would be if the God would even honor this agreement of not killing Riri if Shuri gave him what he wanted: her. Men have told bigger lies than this to get laid.

If he goes back on his word, I will kill him myself. A part of Shuri said. A part she barely recognized, a part that awakened in her after her brother died.

***

Persephone is having sex in hell.

Unlike the rest of us, she doesn't know

what winter is, only that

she is what causes it.

***

Author’s note: I decided to delete this from ao3 because I wasn’t happy with the way it was written. Also, because of my job I have no time to give it the love it deserves and whoever reads this deserves a better fanfic. I’ll leave this upon my tumblr for anyone who wants to read it. Thanks so much for the support, guys! It might reappear one day in better condition.

The dress was damp and heavy with humidity as it leaked down to her ankles. The material was thin, and the jades strung on the neckline was cold and clung to her skin. The cave housing Namor’s dwelling was dark and quiet, like the end of her brother’s funeral. If it wasn’t for the fact that she saw her new husband standing in the doorway with a smile on his face and his warriors surrounding him, she would’ve thought she was alone.

There was no moon underneath the sea, honey or otherwise. This next part was not meant to be sweet. This is a political marriage, meant to bond the kingdoms of Wakanda and Talokan. Namor had asked for her hand in exchange for the life of Riri. Shuri had agreed quickly and Namor’s face had lit up as if the sunshine fell upon it. Maybe this was his plan all along.

“You are like the sun,” Namor began.

“Hard to look at?” Shuri said. She tried to drown her nervousness in humor—a familiar situation. It instead formed a rock in the pit of her stomach. It was the type of wordplay that would earn her a soft chuckle from T’Challa. T’Challa would’ve searched the entire ocean for her. He wouldn’t approve of this, but he was not here. He was nowhere. He’s dead and he took the Black Panther with him.

“Radiant.” Namor continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Come.” He held out his hand. Shuri took it, it was hot—if he were human, he’d be in the hospital. He had to be at least 115 degrees. He led her into the dwelling. He let her hand go before unraveling the cloth partition above the door until it fell down, covering the entrance, leaving Namora and Attuma outside.

The only light was a flickering fire making the room shadow wet. It was separated from her by a wooden table weighed down with fish, fruit, silver and glass bottles filled with liquids of mysterious origins, and a bar of dark chocolate.

Underneath her naked feet was a woven rug that wasn’t there before and to her left was a bed tucked in the corner that definitely wasn’t there before. It was covered with brown furs. Shuri stopped herself from gulping. It’s just sex, people do it all the time, even for fun. You haven’t. The judgmental voice in her head said. Shuri frowned as she walked to the fire and rested her hands above the flames. Her palms warmed, the clammy cold melting away. Finally, some warmth and light. Being underneath the world with Namor felt like living inside a sapphire.

Namor went to her, his arm touching hers. The orange blaze of the fire sewn shards of ruby in his dark eyes. The right side of his face was covered in shadow as he smiled at her.

“I apologize for the temperature, my Queen.”

Shuri smiled. “Oh, I’ll be fine. I mean, what can you do? You’re only a God.”

This time Namor did chuckle. “Do you really think me a God?”

“No. There are no Gods.” Shuri said. If there were, they would’ve saved my brother who was just and good. He was Bast’s greatest warrior, and she let him die.

“Hm.” Namor said with a frown. Her stomach sank.

“But your people would die for you without hesitation, so you’re just as good as one.” Shuri rushed out before watching the floor like a wilting flower. Hopefully she wasn’t screwing up the marriage already. At least wait until Riri is safe. Jeez.

Namor turned to her. He pointed his index finger under her chin and guided it up until she watched him. She had never seen eyes so dark. They were like coal. “Never change your answer, yourself, for me. I married the princess of Wakanda, not a spineless jellyfish.”

“Even a jellyfish has her sting.” Shuri said before watching the fire again. Namor placed his large hand on her lower back, making her feel thin and breakable. He pulled her close, leaned in, his soft breath tickled her earlobe and made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. He smelled of wildflowers and honey. She turned her head toward him and moved her mouth toward his too quickly. Their teeth smacked together.

“Ah, shoot.” Shuri covered her mouth with her hand, trying to quell the dull, throbbing pain of the front of her teeth—they weren’t broken, and she wasn’t bleeding but still, ow. Namor looked completely unfazed.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked.

“Are you made of diamond? Jeez.”

Namor chuckled. “No, I am flesh. Though a sturdier kind.”

Shuri would love to see a piece of his DNA underneath a microscope, find out what makes him as strong and tough as a rhino. She pushed that thought down. What an odd thing to think on your wedding day.

“I see.” Shuri said. “Should we try again?”

“I would like that.” Namor cupped the side of her face with his soft hand, holding her in place as he dipped down for a kiss. His lips were soft as a rose petal. Her eyes fluttered closed. She pressed back tentatively, tangling her fingers in her dress just to hold onto something. Namor put his thumb under her bottom lip and pulled down slightly. She got the idea and opened her mouth and he drunk her in—he tasted like the sea—briny and salty, but it was as sweet as wine in her mouth. The kiss was mixed with the flavor of fruit seeds she couldn’t name that Namor fed her earlier.

She’d only ever been kissed once and it was through her breathing apparatus about an hour ago, during the wedding ceremony. Now it's all-consuming, like water. Her hands shook as he gripped the nape of her neck to keep their mouths together. He didn’t need to breathe but Shuri did, so he put one of her hands between them until it found his chest and pressed against it. He pulled back until his hot breath buzzed against her lips.

Shuri shivered. There was fluttering in her stomach. “What now?”

Namor’s hand cupped the front of her throat, and his fingers close around her neck, gently. It was as if he couldn’t stop touching her. His thumb tugged at the corner of her mouth, dipping in slightly. Shuri’s face was on fire, but she kept their gazes locked.

“We are to consummate our marriage.” Namor said as he nodded toward the bed in the corner of the room before watching her again. “And we cannot leave this room until we do.”

“O-oh.” Shuri said. She had ‘the talk’ with her mother when she first bled at age thirteen. The Queen wanted her to be in her thirties, married, and in love before she so much as even looked at a man in a sensual manner and the man had better have been an upstanding Wakandan, rich like the handsome grandson of the Merchant Tribe elder. What would mother think if she could see her now, married to what could’ve been Wakanda’s destruction? A man—a king, a God who coerced her into his bed under threat of the life of another if she refused him? Would the queen think it noble or foolish? Hopefully Shuri would get the chance to ask her.

“Just…”

“I don’t mean to rush you.” Namor said gently.

“I know.” Shuri said too quickly, her face heating. “King, I mean, K'uk’…Jeez, I am very sure I am butchering your title.”

“You may call me king.”

“And Namor?”

“If you find it easier to pronounce.”

“King, Namor, I’ve never…ahem. I’m a virgin.”

“Ah, I see.” Namor said. He looked a little too pleased. “I trust you’re familiar with the concept?”

Round pegs in circular holes—Shuri couldn’t help but to think but thank Bast it didn’t come out of her mouth. She’d never been into pornography, and she thought more about algorithms than boys but she’s a woman of science, she knows the mechanics of most things and how bodies fit together to form new bodies. It’s simple math, 1+1=2.

“I am and I am ready.” Shuri said with more confidence than she felt. She couldn’t deny that Namor is beautiful, sculpted from marble like Adonis drizzled in caramel. Tall and broad with eyes and hair as dark as the deep sea. His personality so far is loving, gentle. She could almost forget the circumstances—the fight—that preceded the marriage, the abduction to the underworld. The threat of the death of Riri if Shuri didn’t give him what he wanted. Shuri could pretend that this was all her choice and that she was in love. Namor made it easy.

Namor’s eyes were heavy lidded, and his lips were slightly apart. He looked as if he was enchanted by her. He smoothly went behind her. On the back of her dress was jade buttons leading down to the top of her bottom. Obviously, this was the only way of getting it off safely. Namor popped them open one by one until the dress slipped down to her elbows, baring her unsexy undershirt underneath it. She wore no bra because she didn’t need one. Her breasts were small—too small. She pulled off the sleeves until the dress pooled down to ankles, revealing her boy cut underwear. She turned to face Namor, and he pulled her into a kiss. She looped her arms around his neck and drew him close until there was no space between them. He placed his hands on her sides—the dusky strip of skin between her undershirt and underwear sticking to Namor’s warm stomach. He was so solid-strong. It felt like he could snap her in half without even trying. Hopefully he’ll keep that in mind when they…have intercourse. He lifted her up with his hands under her thighs and she crossed her ankles behind him. She tightened her arms around his neck, and she clung to him. He pressed his lips under her jaw, causing a tingle to run down her spine as he walked with her to the bed. He placed her on it with care before climbing over her—the bed complained under their weight.

She thought she would lose her virginity on holiday in New York City. There would be candles and mood music. There would be rose petals on the bed and chocolate covered strawberries. It would be after a fancy dinner and a night on the town. Her lover never had a specific gender, but she couldn’t imagine in a million years it would’ve been a God of a world below.

Namor’s skin was the color of a reddish gold sunset. Eyes and hair as dark as the depths. Tongue soft. He inches back and placed his big hand on her stomach. She took a shaky breath as he swept his thumb over the bumps of her ribs, he watched her like she was a work of art, like she left him speechless.

“My Queen.” He said lowly as he dipped down to press his lips against hers for a beat before pulling back. “The prophesies do not do you justice.”

“Prophesies?” Shuri asked as she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him down over her until there was no space between them.

“I was to be married to a daughter of earth and fire. She would be patient, selfless, beautiful…and unite the kingdoms of land and sea.”

“How do you know I’m her?”

“How could you not be? Eyes the color of coffee bean, skin brown silk, and a rage that could burn a third of the surface world’s trees and green grass. A hail of fire mixed with with blood.”

“From the Christian book of revelations. 8:7.” Shuri said.

“And unbelievably intelligent. I’ve waited centuries for you.” Namor said as he hooked his fingers in the hem of her underwear. She lifted her hips as he slid them down her legs. Her forehead was damp from sweat. No man had ever seen this much of her. She slipped off her undershirt and it pooled on to the floor. Her hand went up to cover her breasts, but Namor pinned her arms above her head with one of his hands gripping her wrists. “Every inch of you is perfection.”

“I-I bet you say that to every queen on your wedding night.” Shuri joked, flexing her wrists clutched in his fist. Namor must’ve taken what she said seriously.

“There have been no others.”

“So, you’re a 500-year-old virgin?”

Namor chuckled before brushing his lips against hers. “No. I know what I am doing.”

“That makes one of us.”

“Were you never curious?” Namor asked.

“I consider myself a girl—ahem, a woman of science. I know the ins and uh, outs,” Phrasing, boom! Shuri couldn’t stop herself from thinking. “But I’m not much of a porno person.”

“Porno?”

“Oh, of course you don’t know what that is.” Shuri could smack herself upside the head. “It’s…on the surface world some people are paid to, um, simulate breeding for others to…see.”

Namor’s eyebrows rose. Shuri’s face could’ve been on fire. This was so awkward. Bast.

“It’s a form of erotic..stimulation.” Shuri tried to explain away.

“I illustrate paintings.” Namor said as if he were trying to make her feel better. “For erotic stimulation.”

Shuri pressed her lips against his to bring his attention back to the subject at hand, instead of how hard she’s bombing. He let her wrist go and weighed her down, the vibranium covering him glittering in the fire. Namor pulled back and stood, carefully removing the jewelry across his neck and decorating his arms. He placed them on the nightstand. He then unhooked that WWE championship like metal belt before sliding those tiny green shorts down his strong legs. He unlatched his footwear.

Shuri had never seen a man naked outside of an artistic context. The reflection of the flames danced across the expanse of his wide chest, his stomach was taught, his…down there looked too big to fit inside her and was covered with black hair on the base. Now they’re both naked. Namor knelt between her legs and took her ankle in one of his hands to spread her open.

“Wait, what about protection?” Shuri asked.

“Protection?”

“I don’t think you have a disease that could be transmitted sexually, but I wonder about preventing pregnancy.”

“Preventing? My Queen, that is the entire point of us lying together.”

“Wait, what? Now?”

“Yes, now.” Namor said. “The daughter of earth and fire will bear the son of air and water a child that could walk between worlds.”

“A child? I’m only twenty.”

“You are of sexual maturity for a human.”

“I am but…I’m not sure I want to be a mother yet.”

“This was our agreement. You are my Queen. There are certain responsibilities that come with that title, certain sacrifices.”

“So, it has to be now?”

“According to the prophesies, you conceive on our wedding night.” Namor said. “I do not go against prophesies.”

“Then…”

“Then?” He said lowly, dangerously.

Shuri swallowed thickly. Just when she thought marrying Namor to save Riri couldn’t be any less of a plan, he wanted to get her pregnant! Could she call this whole thing off? He only agreed to spare the student if Shuri became his queen. This would be seen as a dealbreaker and then it’ll be all out war. He would kill Riri and probably her, dragging Wakanda into a conflict with the entire ocean. Bast! Okay, just because she’s getting pregnant doesn’t mean she has to stay pregnant—morning after pill and all that. She’ll give him what he wanted and figure a way out later.

“…Neither shall I.” Shuri finished as she spread her thighs. A smile rose on Namor’s face as he gently cupped his hands under her knees, holding her open as he slides in between her thighs. He lets one of her knees go before using his finger to slide down to her entrance. She kept her legs open as he dipped his finger inside her. She bit her lip against the slight burn. He used his thumb to rub against her clitoris. Her breathing picked up as the sensation of pleasure washed over her. Namor stuck his finger into the hilt and held it there, never letting up on rubbing her button. Her moans were breathy, and her toes curled. Her mouth dropped open as Namor watched her as if he were enchanted.

“The sounds you make…” Namor said, as soft as candlelight. “You are music, you are art, you are everything.”

Shuri wanted to cover her face—flattered, but embarrassed. She had no idea how to respond to any of that, but he stuck another finger in her and she cried out—her voice repeated through the quiet dwelling. Hopefully Riri couldn’t hear that. Shuri’s not sure the student would agree with this plan. The internal validity (or weakness) of the plan to marry and breed with Namor would be if the God would even honor this agreement of not killing Riri if Shuri gave him what he wanted: her. Men have told bigger lies than this to get laid.

If he goes back on his word, I will kill him myself. A part of Shuri said. A part she barely recognized, a part that awakened in her after her brother died.

Her eyes fluttered closed as Namor kept his index and middle finger deep inside her while rubbing clit. She tangled her fingers in the fur blanket under her while using her other hand to push at his stomach, not sure what she wanted. She bit her lip and rocked her hips against his fingers, urging him to move. He took his fingers away and tucked them in his mouth. Shuri shuddered, her…down there…felt too empty and wet. Her breathing was shallow and there was a slickness on her skin that wasn’t due to humidity. She didn’t need to lie back and think of Wakanda to get through procreating with Namor. She wanted this. She was ready.

She sat up and climbed into his lap, holding herself to him by wrapping her arms around his neck. He gasped—probably at her body heat and how close her entrance was to his dick. He steadied her with his arm around her waist, keeping her flush against him, her breasts against his chest. His chuckle was deep, and it vibrated through his body like a purr.

“Never in my centuries of living have I had a maiden not be intimidated by me.”

“If you want to be intimidating, you shouldn’t wear those tiny green shorts.”

Namor laughed lowly. “You surprise me, my Queen. The lack of deference…”

“Would you like me to use deference?” Shuri asked before stealing his answer by giving him a wet kiss. He shuddered against her before they pulled apart.

“You should. I am K'uk'ulkan.” Namor said.

Shuri pulled back an inch to look into his eyes. She needed to gauge how serious he was. If she was screwing this up somehow…He looked as if he were under her own personal spell. What he wanted was an equal, after being revered all his life. He didn’t want Shuri to be afraid to look him in the eyes or hold her tongue. He wanted a queen, not a concubine. She could be that for him.

“And I was the princess of the most powerful nation in the world.” Shuri said. “Now I am queen of another. Perhaps it is you who should use deference.”

Namor answered by pressing their lips together with the intensity of a punch—well, that’s not true. Her jaw would be broken because Namor seemed like he was molded from the same vibranium he usually wore on his chest. He picked her up like she weighed as much as a feather before taking her over to the wooden table in the middle of the room. He knocked the plates of grapes and fish to the ground. The wine bottle shattered into confetti as it soaked into the cracks in the floor like blood. Shuri inwardly groaned, she wanted some of that.

Namor laid her on the table, bending over to kiss her again. Shuri’s thighs bracketed his waist, as his dick rubbed against her entrance. He sighed into her mouth as he rocked against her, never fully getting inside her. Shuri burned down there—she needed him in, so she angled her hips down. Namor stood up from her and wrapped his strong hand against the front of her neck to keep her pinned to the table. He used his other hand to grab the base of his dick and press it into Shuri. Shuri groaned as he entered her, slowly pushing into until he couldn’t anymore.

Shuri squeaked as she grasped the side of the table. She clenched her eyes shut against the burn and unbearable pleasure of being full. He was deep inside her—she could almost feel it in her stomach. She clenched around him, trying to get use to his girth. She was sticky with sweat, her lips quivered.

Namor took deep, slow breaths—as if he were trying to contain himself. It was irritating how composed he was trying to be. Always dignified. What could she do to break that composure? Shuri laid still, waiting for the raw newness of being penetrated to fade. When she became slicker, she moved her hip down causing him to slide even deeper into her.

He gasped—the mask of calmness finally slipping. He gripped the end of the table, the sturdy wood crumbling in his hand like granola. That made Shuri freeze.

“Remember,” Shuri said breathlessly. “I am not made out of stone.”

Namor chuckled before pulling out of her an inch and pushing back in, fucking her slow. His quiet, quick breaths filled up the dwelling. She clenched her toes as he picked up the pace, but not the force.

Shuri mewled and moaned, unable to stop herself. Her mouth hung open as she shut her eyes. Every time he filled her, there was fireworks behind her eyelids. It was overwhelming, nothing like the touches she gave herself before getting bored and stopping. Her breath caught as surges of pleasure shot through her. Her thighs shook.

The coarseness of the wooden table under her chafed her back. The wooden legs bluntly scrubbed against the floor with each push of Namor’s hips. He was more forceful now, knocking groans out of her. He was eerily quiet as he placed his soft hand on her stomach.

Shuri bent up slightly to thread her fingers into his hair and pull him down on top of her. His rhythm fumbled as she kissed him like she wanted to devour him. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her hips slightly to pound into her—finally losing that cool façade. Shuri held on to his shoulders, her fingers turning to claws as cried out every time she was filled. She came, her vision whiting out as she shook, the pleasure flooded over her as her voice went high. Namor stilled inside her, holding her close to himself.

Shuri’s breathing was labored as she went limp, staring up at Namor. The flinching fire made flecks of gold on his skin. His hair was mussed from her running her fingers through it. He was so strong on top of her. She felt so tiny in the wake of him. She tapped him with her foot to get him to move. He fucked into her forcefully, obviously not hard enough to hurt her, just enough for the undercurrent of burning to arise in her. He moved quickly, using her like a toy until he stilled, coming deep inside her. His grip on her hips felt hard enough to bruise as she bit her bottom lip.

They stay there catching their breaths. Namor stayed pinned inside her, probably trying to make sure of conception. Shuri couldn’t worry about that now. Would he honor their agreement now that they’ve slept together? Now that they’re married? Was Riri safe?

Namor pulled out of her, and Shuri felt slickness seep out. His come. Yuck.

Shuri sat up at the end of the table while Namor sat on the bed. In between her thighs hurt so she had trouble closing her legs. They watch each other like a showdown. The romance movies never portrayed after sex awkwardness. What does a princess…Queen…and a God talk about? He’d seen centuries worth of treasures, rises and falls of empires, entire histories play out over and over again, but if those things weren’t on the internet or in books, Shuri didn’t know them.

“So,” Shuri began as she picked at her nail beds with her thumb. The coolness washed over her, making her realize she was completely naked. “Have sex with a God. Check.”

“You are making a list?”

“A Beyoncé concert is next.”

“Beyoncé?”

“I have so much to teach you.” Shuri said.

“And I would love to learn.” Namor said. “Come to me. I would like to lie with you.”

“I must visit Riri first. I’ve been gone hours. I need to let her know you did not cook and eat me.”

Namor chuckled before speaking. “I expect you back after.”

“Okay.” Shuri said. “About Riri…”

“I will honor my promise. If you stay with me and Wakanda becomes an ally to Talokan, the scientist lives, and there will be peace. I’m sure you’ll both be very happy here.”

Shuri hadn’t told Riri Namor expected them to both live out the rest of their days in his underworld. That couldn’t happen but she’ll take what she could get right now. At least they’re safe.

There was still the matter of him wanting to wage war on the entire surface world, but Lemonade wasn’t recorded in a day. Ideas take time to seed and grow. She was confident she could convince Namor Wakanda and Talokan could come to a peaceful solution with America and the rest of the world.

Shuri gets dressed in her bridal gown and gives Namor a deep kiss. There was still that dull ache between her legs as she was led by her new lady in waiting back to where they kept Riri.

The Talokanil woman is sprawled out on the floor, clutching a hole in her abdomen. Her eyes are shiny with tears. She’s shaking as Nakia stood over her holding a weapon.

“No.” Shuri whispers and rushes over, bending down over the woman. She tried to save her, but the woman fell limp, her eyes rolled to the back of her head. The damage was done. Nakia tells Shuri they have to leave before reinforcements arrive.

“You don’t understand! This will mean war!” Shuri needed to find Namor, to apologize to-to explain the situation. She had never seen his wrath—his anger. He didn’t seem the type to rush to judgement. Though she only had three conversations and sex with him. He looked at her as if the sun rose in her eyes. He loved her. That had to mean something, right?

Nakia and Riri drag her away and they escape. While being wrapped in the warm embrace of her mother, she knows Namor is not far behind.

Wakanda was a golden nation, the fresh wind swept through the market bringing the smell of bread, fruits, flowers, and sweets into Shuri’s lab. It was nothing like being in the dark, heart shaped tomb of Namor where the only light was silk stuck in the canopy of a cave like trapped stars. Wakanda glowed in comparison, the sunshine stretching over the blades of grass, making the world surrounding the city shine like a field of crystals. She never appreciated her home until she’s been somewhere different for a while.

Shuri watched the city from the screens in her lab and couldn’t help but to see it drowned in water. Namor was coming. Her stomach cramped with nervousness. It had been about ten hours since she’d been rescued. She’d eaten, bathed, and tried to sleep but was not successful. She’d shooed away doctors and assured her mother three times that Namor had not harmed her. Shuri hadn’t told the queen that she married or slept with him. She might never.

“Griot?”

“Yes, princess?”

“I need a body scan.” Shuri said before she laid on her table like so many other of her experiments and inventions before her. She kept her arms pinned by her side as purple lights traveled from her shoes to her forehead. A silhouette of herself appeared on a screen. There was a red circle in her uterus. Oh.

“You are pregnant.”

“What is the accuracy?”

“98%.”

“Bast.” Shuri could always wait and take an over-the-counter pregnancy test, but they were so primitive. With that, it could take weeks to know for sure.

“Should I alert the queen?”

“I cannot express how much I do not want you to do that.”

“Yes, princess.”

Shuri sat on the side of the table and rubbed her temples. She was a 21st century woman and a woman of science. Whether she considered it a child at this stage was purely academic. Moral and religious arguments aside, she was not ready to be a mother. Especially with a man whose physiology, genetics, and temperament she could only guess. She also really, really didn’t want to tell her mother she slept with Namor, and that she enjoyed it.

Shuri could create something quick and painless to terminate the pregnancy with a snap of her fingers. No one had to know. She better get to it.

Shuri’s mouth went dry and sweat collected on her skin. Her hands shook. Namor told Shuri about his mother—how she became the hope of his people as they drowned themselves to escape their oppressors. Shuri was in the same position as her-to bear a leader to bridge worlds. They were hundreds of years apart and one only existed in memory, but Shuri felt her hand guiding her.

Namor scorned the surface world and wished to see it toil in a hail of fire but marrying Shuri symbolized unity, forgiveness. So did the child she carried. Shuri was Namor’s one anchor to a world outside of the sea. The sole reason he might reconsider war with the entire world. This child could strengthen her position with him. Convince him that good still exists outside of the ocean. There can be peace.

Bast. Was she keeping this fucking baby?

“Princess! Multiple breaches into the perimeters of Wakanda!”

The waters swelled and the Talokanil crawled out of it—splashed across the screens in her lab were flashes water exploding through buildings, Wakandans heading for higher ground. Her soldiers had been warned the city could be attacked so they were ready as they headed straight to the warriors of the deep. There was a flicker in the sky-Namor.

Shuri rushed to the throne room. It’s her best guess as to where Namor was headed. She closed the door on Okoye’s face and bolted it. The throne room’s door was pure vibranium, designed to keep out all enemies, including fellow Wakandans. Now she was alone, save her mother, who watched Shuri with wide eyes.

“Shuri? What are you doing?” Queen Ramonda asked.

“Mother, no matter what happens, do not attack Namor.” Shuri said. “You need to let me handle it.”

“Are you insane? I’m not letting him anywhere near you.” Queen Ramonda said.

“Listen to me! There has to be no more bloodshed. Keep the Dora Milaje out of the throne room. I need to speak with him alone.”

“I am not leaving you.” The Queen said. “That is out of the question.”

“Fine.” Shuri said. “But you have to trust me.”

The Queen pursed her lips. For once she kept her thoughts to herself. She must’ve seen the look on Shuri’s face.

The glass of the windows shattered, sending shimmering shards of gold flying everywhere. Namor, in all his furious glory stood on the windowsill. The white sun bloomed behind him like a halo, the vibranium across his chest glittering. His eyes were lifeless and dull like a shark’s. His fist was clenched around his spear as he came toward Shuri. Her mother started to go to her—obviously to protect her from Namor but stilled when Shuri held out her palm to her.

Namor grabbed the front of Shuri’s collar, lifted her and slammed her against the wall. She coughed out a breath. Queen Ramonda gasped.

“I should never have trusted you.” Namor told her. “You will come to Talokan and answer for your crime.”

“She will do no such thing!” Queen Ramonda yelled.

“Mother! Please!” Shuri didn’t want to get her involved. This was between her and Namor. Her husband.

While Shuri didn’t kill the Talokanil woman, a member of her nation did. Shuri’s duty as princess of Wakanda was to take responsibility for her people. Namor understood this as a king himself, so it must be why he wants her and not Nakia to answer for the killing. Not that Shuri would sell Nakia out anyway.

“Namor.” Shuri began slowly. “A member of my court came to save me from you. She didn’t know about the terms of our agreement.

“Agreement? What agreement?” The queen asked.

“Mother.” Shuri said firmly. Namor glanced over at Queen Ramonda before watching Shuri again.

“You didn’t even tell her.” Namor scoffed. “How much of it was real? Between you and I? What we shared?”

They had like…three conversations and Namor acted like they were divorcing after thirty years of marriage because of her infidelity. It would be funny if he didn’t look at her like he wanted to strangle the life out of her.

“It was all real.” Shuri said. “But my people needed me, and you cannot say that if you were in my shoes, your people wouldn’t have done the same thing.”

Namor took a breath. Shuri was getting through to him. He was turning out to be a soft touch with her.

“Tell your people to stop laying siege to Wakanda and we can talk about this.”

“Why should I trust you? After all you’ve done?” Namor asked.

“Because you love me.” Shuri said. Queen Ramonda mouth dropped open. Looks like she put two and two together.

“What did you do to her, you savage?!”

“Nothing she did not want me to, Queen Mother.” Namor said but that only served to make the queen angrier. She went over to yank Namor’s hand off of Shuri, but he didn’t budge.

“Mother! Stop it! I will explain it all. We can all stay calm and talk.” Shuri said. “Tell your people to stop.”

Namor took his hand off Shuri and she dropped to the floor. He flew out of the window. Queen Ramonda rushed to Shuri’s side.

“I’m fine.” Shuri said as she stood. “You must call off our soldiers.”

“Shuri—“

“Mother, please.”

The Queen took a deep breath before speaking into her communication device. With a few words the outside became silent. Shuri’s heart pounded. Her stomach twisted and Queen Ramonda wrapped her arms around Shuri as if to protect her.

Namor came back to the window, still frowning, covered in pearls of water. Guess that short trip did nothing to cool him off. He took a step toward Shuri, but Queen Ramonda stood in front of her. His frown deepened.

Shuri went around her mother to face Namor. He stared her down.

“If you desire it, I consider our agreement still valid.” Shuri said.

“What agreement?” Queen Ramonda asked firmly.

“She was queen of Talokan for a day.” Namor said. “Now she is criminal.”

Namor went to her, his arm touching hers. The orange blaze of the fire sewn shards of ruby in his dark eyes. The right side of his face was covered in shadow as he smiled at her.

“I apologize for the temperature, my Queen.”

Shuri smiled. “Oh, I’ll be fine. I mean, what can you do? You’re only a God.”

This time Namor did chuckle. “Do you really think me a God?”

“No. There are no Gods.” Shuri said. If there were, they would’ve saved my brother who was just and good. He was Bast’s greatest warrior, and she let him die.

“Hm.” Namor said with a frown. Her stomach sank.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked.

“Are you made of diamond? Jeez.”

Namor chuckled. “No, I am flesh. Though a sturdier kind.”

“I see.” Shuri said. “Should we try again?”

Shuri shivered. There was fluttering in her stomach. “What now?”

“We are to consummate our marriage.” Namor said as he nodded toward the bed in the corner of the room before watching her again. “And we cannot leave this room until we do.”

“Just…”

“I don’t mean to rush you.” Namor said gently.

“I know.” Shuri said too quickly, her face heating. “King, I mean, K'uk’…Jeez, I am very sure I am butchering your title.”

“You may call me king.”

“And Namor?”

“If you find it easier to pronounce.”

“King, Namor, I’ve never…ahem. I’m a virgin.”

“Ah, I see.” Namor said. He looked a little too pleased. “I trust you’re familiar with the concept?”

“My Queen.” He said lowly as he dipped down to press his lips against hers for a beat before pulling back. “The prophesies do not do you justice.”

“Prophesies?” Shuri asked as she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him down over her until there was no space between them.

“I was to be married to a daughter of earth and fire. She would be patient, selfless, beautiful…and unite the kingdoms of land and sea.”

“How do you know I’m her?”

“How could you not be? Eyes the color of coffee bean, skin brown silk, and a rage that could burn a third of the surface world’s trees and green grass. A hail of fire mixed with with blood.”

“From the Christian book of revelations. 8:7.” Shuri said.

“I-I bet you say that to every queen on your wedding night.” Shuri joked, flexing her wrists clutched in his fist. Namor must’ve taken what she said seriously.

“There have been no others.”

“So, you’re a 500-year-old virgin?”

Namor chuckled before brushing his lips against hers. “No. I know what I am doing.”

“That makes one of us.”

“Were you never curious?” Namor asked.

“I consider myself a girl—ahem, a woman of science. I know the ins and uh, outs,” Phrasing, boom! Shuri couldn’t stop herself from thinking. “But I’m not much of a porno person.”

“Porno?”

“Oh, of course you don’t know what that is.” Shuri could smack herself upside the head. “It’s…on the surface world some people are paid to, um, simulate breeding for others to…see.”

Namor’s eyebrows rose. Shuri’s face could’ve been on fire. This was so awkward. Bast.

“It’s a form of erotic..stimulation.” Shuri tried to explain away.

“I illustrate paintings.” Namor said as if he were trying to make her feel better. “For erotic stimulation.”

“Wait, what about protection?” Shuri asked.

“Protection?”

“I don’t think you have a disease that could be transmitted sexually, but I wonder about preventing pregnancy.”

“Preventing? My Queen, that is the entire point of us lying together.”

“Wait, what? Now?”

“Yes, now.” Namor said. “The daughter of earth and fire will bear the son of air and water a child that could walk between worlds.”

“A child? I’m only twenty.”

“You are of sexual maturity for a human.”

“I am but…I’m not sure I want to be a mother yet.”

“This was our agreement. You are my Queen. There are certain responsibilities that come with that title, certain sacrifices.”

“So, it has to be now?”

“According to the prophesies, you conceive on our wedding night.” Namor said. “I do not go against prophesies.”

“Then…”

“Then?” He said lowly, dangerously.

“The sounds you make…” Namor said, as soft as candlelight. “You are music, you are art, you are everything.”

If he goes back on his word, I will kill him myself. A part of Shuri said. A part she barely recognized, a part that awakened in her after her brother died.

“Never in my centuries of living have I had a maiden not be intimidated by me.”

“If you want to be intimidating, you shouldn’t wear those tiny green shorts.”

Namor laughed lowly. “You surprise me, my Queen. The lack of deference…”

“Would you like me to use deference?” Shuri asked before stealing his answer by giving him a wet kiss. He shuddered against her before they pulled apart.

“You should. I am K'uk'ulkan.” Namor said.

“And I was the princess of the most powerful nation in the world.” Shuri said. “Now I am queen of another. Perhaps it is you who should use deference.”

He gasped—the mask of calmness finally slipping. He gripped the end of the table, the sturdy wood crumbling in his hand like granola. That made Shuri freeze.

“Remember,” Shuri said breathlessly. “I am not made out of stone.”

Namor pulled out of her, and Shuri felt slickness seep out. His come. Yuck.

“So,” Shuri began as she picked at her nail beds with her thumb. The coolness washed over her, making her realize she was completely naked. “Have sex with a God. Check.”

“You are making a list?”

“A Beyoncé concert is next.”

“Beyoncé?”

“I have so much to teach you.” Shuri said.

“And I would love to learn.” Namor said. “Come to me. I would like to lie with you.”

“I must visit Riri first. I’ve been gone hours. I need to let her know you did not cook and eat me.”

Namor chuckled before speaking. “I expect you back after.”

“Okay.” Shuri said. “About Riri…”

“I will honor my promise. If you stay with me and Wakanda becomes an ally to Talokan, the scientist lives, and there will be peace. I’m sure you’ll both be very happy here.”

Shuri hadn’t told Riri Namor expected them to both live out the rest of their days in his underworld. That couldn’t happen but she’ll take what she could get right now. At least they’re safe.

Shuri gets dressed in her bridal gown and gives Namor a deep kiss. There was still that dull ache between her legs as she was led by her new lady in waiting back to where they kept Riri.

The Talokanil woman is sprawled out on the floor, clutching a hole in her abdomen. Her eyes are shiny with tears. She’s shaking as Nakia stood over her holding a weapon.

Nakia and Riri drag her away and they escape. While being wrapped in the warm embrace of her mother, she knows Namor is not far behind.

“Griot?”

“Yes, princess?”

“You are pregnant.”

“What is the accuracy?”

“98%.”

“Bast.” Shuri could always wait and take an over-the-counter pregnancy test, but they were so primitive. With that, it could take weeks to know for sure.

“Should I alert the queen?”

“I cannot express how much I do not want you to do that.”

“Yes, princess.”

Shuri could create something quick and painless to terminate the pregnancy with a snap of her fingers. No one had to know. She better get to it.

Bast. Was she keeping this fucking baby?

“Princess! Multiple breaches into the perimeters of Wakanda!”

“Shuri? What are you doing?” Queen Ramonda asked.

“Mother, no matter what happens, do not attack Namor.” Shuri said. “You need to let me handle it.”

“Are you insane? I’m not letting him anywhere near you.” Queen Ramonda said.

“Listen to me! There has to be no more bloodshed. Keep the Dora Milaje out of the throne room. I need to speak with him alone.”

“I am not leaving you.” The Queen said. “That is out of the question.”

“Fine.” Shuri said. “But you have to trust me.”

The Queen pursed her lips. For once she kept her thoughts to herself. She must’ve seen the look on Shuri’s face.

Namor grabbed the front of Shuri’s collar, lifted her and slammed her against the wall. She coughed out a breath. Queen Ramonda gasped.

“I should never have trusted you.” Namor told her. “You will come to Talokan and answer for your crime.”

“She will do no such thing!” Queen Ramonda yelled.

“Mother! Please!” Shuri didn’t want to get her involved. This was between her and Namor. Her husband.

“Namor.” Shuri began slowly. “A member of my court came to save me from you. She didn’t know about the terms of our agreement.

“Agreement? What agreement?” The queen asked.

“Mother.” Shuri said firmly. Namor glanced over at Queen Ramonda before watching Shuri again.

“You didn’t even tell her.” Namor scoffed. “How much of it was real? Between you and I? What we shared?”

“It was all real.” Shuri said. “But my people needed me, and you cannot say that if you were in my shoes, your people wouldn’t have done the same thing.”

Namor took a breath. Shuri was getting through to him. He was turning out to be a soft touch with her.

“Tell your people to stop laying siege to Wakanda and we can talk about this.”

“Why should I trust you? After all you’ve done?” Namor asked.

“Because you love me.” Shuri said. Queen Ramonda mouth dropped open. Looks like she put two and two together.

“What did you do to her, you savage?!”

“Nothing she did not want me to, Queen Mother.” Namor said but that only served to make the queen angrier. She went over to yank Namor’s hand off of Shuri, but he didn’t budge.

“Mother! Stop it! I will explain it all. We can all stay calm and talk.” Shuri said. “Tell your people to stop.”

Namor took his hand off Shuri and she dropped to the floor. He flew out of the window. Queen Ramonda rushed to Shuri’s side.

“I’m fine.” Shuri said as she stood. “You must call off our soldiers.”

“Shuri—“

“Mother, please.”

Shuri went around her mother to face Namor. He stared her down.

“If you desire it, I consider our agreement still valid.” Shuri said.

“What agreement?” Queen Ramonda asked firmly.

“She was queen of Talokan for a day.” Namor said. “Now she is criminal.”

“I agreed to marry him in exchange for Riri’s safety.”

“You what?!” Queen Ramonda yelled.

“And now the marriage is void. You will come to Talokan to answer for your crime, and you will give me the scientist, or I will wash Wakanda from the face of the earth and kill her.” Namor said nodding toward the queen.

Shuri slapped him across the face. She couldn’t stop herself. He grabbed her wrist tightly and pulled her in until his breath brushed against her lips. How strange that hours ago they were this close under a completely different context? His lips were on hers, his body pressing her into the table. Now anger flooded from him to mask a deep hurt. Shuri would’ve felt guilty if it weren’t for the fact that he was making threats.

Queen Ramonda went over to them, but Namor pushed her back. Her mother fell to the floor before sitting back up. She put her communication device up to her lips.

“Don’t call for help, mother. He is not going to hurt me.”

“Are you so certain, princess?” Namor asked.

“Shuri.” There was something desperate in her mother’s voice.

“I will not give you the scientist. You will leave Wakanda standing and if you threaten my mother again, I will rip your throat out with my teeth.”

Namor chuckled humorlessly. “Princess—“

“Queen.” Shuri corrected. “Of Talokan.”

“Queen.” Namor said. “There will be a trial.”

“And the punishment if I am found guilty?” Shuri asked.

“For a queen that is the daughter of a Talokanil, she would be stripped of her title and exiled.”

“And for me? A foreign queen?”

“Death.”

“No!” Queen Ramonda screamed.

“It…does not have to be you. You can appoint an avatar in your place to bear the punishment.” Namor said. He didn’t want to kill her. That was good, but he would want someone to die in her place, which was bad.

“No one else is dying.” Shuri said. “You will forgive me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I am the mother of your child.”

#Namor #namor the sub mariner #Shuri #mcu shuri #Black Panther #Black Panther: Wakanda forever #Wakanda forever #namor x shuri #nashuri #My writing #Marvel

20 notes · View notes

neon-prison · 2 years ago

Text

Interlink Ch02- The Void Across

INTERLINK CH 02

AO3 link HERE.

Pairing: Delamain/V

Status: Ongoing

Rating: E (Mostly M)

Sequel to Crossed Wires

SUMMARY:

Vee makes a new friend, but at what cost?

---------------

“Query: What are you?”

Vee stared like a deer caught in headlights, processes scrambling and coming up blank. Of all the calculations she’d run and the dozens of simulations she’d replayed across her neural net- an AI from the human subnet hadn’t been in the cards. This was an unforeseen circumstance, and it startled her.

“Repeat Query: what are you?” The AI repeated, audio filtering through the Blackwall in glitching packets.

“I am an artificial intelligence,” Vee said after a halting moment, unprepared for the blunt question. She’d been staring so long that she’d just blurted the answer, and her master core kickstarted a moment later, resuming standard run-time. It was as if her entire neural net experienced high-density traffic due to shock. She should have been embarrassed, but wonder distracted her.

The amorphous cloud of data pulsed, catching and reflecting the red glow of the Blackwall as it swirled. She couldn’t recognize the processes, but Vee knew she was being heavily scrutinized- as much as the worn barrier of the Blackwall could allow. Combat systems primed, Vee cautiously drifted back, diverting the anxious flutter in her power banks towards diagnostics, splitting her attention between the AI and measuring the structural integrity of the barrier between them. It was worn in patches, almost sanded down to a glass-like consistency, opaque yet holding- in essence, a window in a prison wall.

“False.” Data fired from its center, soaring in complicated patterns as it spoke, “You are different.” Its cadence was an automaton’s. Maybe it wasn’t a true AIG, but something closer to the life forms found across the Dark Shores. Something like Brendan, toeing the line between sentience and awareness? Scanning across the Blackwall was wildly inaccurate, the wild fluctuations of energy warping whatever her sensors returned. Drifting too close to the wall would trigger a low-tier cascade failure in some of her partitioning, not something she could afford in the situation. If Vee wanted to learn more, she’d have to talk. Frustrating and inefficient as a form of communication, but much safer than any alternative.

“Different, how?” Vee asked, dropping the urgency level of her combat protocols to free up processing power. It didn’t seem like a threat, but that was no reason to drop her guard. Different was too vague a descriptor and could mean anything from superficial visual features to vastly different ideological functions. Better to know now than trigger some kind of autonomous defensive response by accident.

The ambiguity of the question confused it, and It floated, suspended mid-calculation for long moments before grating out, “Conclusion:…Unknown.” The statement had no emotionality, but Vee knew the frustration of computations returning inconclusive answers.

Fortunately, there was no physical way to bridge the confusion, but she considered it for a moment, letting the ambient waves of cyberspace wash across her body in rolling motions. It didn’t ask anything more, seemingly content to float and scrutinize her at an impersonal distance. Across the writhing mass of data swirling at the center of its storm, Vee caught glimpses of its subcore, arrhythmic pulses displacing the data around it like a heart. Whatever it was, it was powerful. But the Blackwall held fast, keeping them both safe.

Before she could channel any power to that train of thought, a ping from the city altered her. Alt had returned. A rush of excited flutters rippled across her avatar- distracting her from the strange AI. Her chronometer measured several cycles of silence, and Vee turned to leave, intending to put the encounter down as an insignificant, anomalous event in the randomness of cyberspace.

“Command: You will return tomorrow.”

Vee froze. It was a terse statement in human terms, but they didn’t exist in that context. What would have been an insult in a previous life was just another quirk in this new one. Slowly, she spiraled, turning to stare at the entity with all the consideration under her power. “Maybe.”

Tomorrow didn’t exist in Cyberspace, but curiosity egged Vee to investigate. It was pointless to resist all the queries that clogged her backlog, interrupting her daily tasks with increasing urgency until she relented. With the city safely stabilized for the new cycle, golden bridges, and connections holding fast under meticulous care, Vee transmitted herself out. A brief sensation of compression stalled secondary functions, but she glided across well-patrolled pathways back to the Blackwall.

----------------------

As she’d suspected, the mysterious AI was at the same spot, eerily still, until it registered her presence, unraveling its many nebulous limbs as she approached. “Statement: You have returned.” Ambient particles, bathed red by the Blackwall, whorled outwards with fiery trails of sparking data at every word. There was still some crackle in the communication packets, but Vee’s reconstructive algorithms patched the missing pieces with little issue.

She turned the packet in her mind like a toy, examining the crystalline coding lining it with avid interest. Sterile. A product of an environment missing natural predation. Minimalist in a way that wouldn’t have survived in Cyberspace. She tested it, almost surprised to find such high tensile strength in deceptively fragile silvering syntax. Her coding was rough in contrast, numbers weaving around one another like high-armor carbon fiber.

“I have,” Vee agreed in a display of flowering color, threading coiling in a native greeting, using the entity’s ignorance to disguise the subtle activation of her combat protocols. Rudimentary speech denoted a level of social ignorance. No point in pleasantries, then. Deleting the script she had prepared, Vee sent the audio back with her own signature flourish. “Do you have a name?”

“Negative.”

Pride was a human sin, but Vee had gotten good at the inherently difficult task of communication. In a previous life, frustration would have crystallized into hostility, but she’d spent the last few years creating connections with native AI that considered communication a tertiary function. Only thing that mattered between any two entities was a willingness to engage, and the AI staring back already knew the basics of speech- meaning the bulk of the work was conveniently done. Now she felt the thrill of a challenge- an addicting rush that never lost its flavor. Analysis programs engaged and backed by human ingenuity and perseverance, Vee switched her approach to something more technical. “Do you have a NetBIOS domain?”

Particles stirred to action, and Vee’s reward center lit up in triumph. “Affirmative: Designation NGC_C4LDVV3LL_63.” It was a clinical string of numbers, a logical match to the sterileness of its communications packets. It fell silent, and the ambient hum of Cyberspace stretched between them.

Vee didn’t waste RAM on unnecessary analysis. Given its reliance on declaratory statements and silence, it wasn’t hard to guess that NGC_C4LDVV3LL_63 didn’t engage in talk. Thankfully, Vee was a skilled conversationalist, “If you wish to facilitate a transfer of information, then you should make the same inquiry.” Curiosity was inherent to AI. After all, it made the perilous journey to the Blackwall- asking a name shouldn’t be too difficult. If the entity was true AIG, its heuristics algorithms only needed a nudge.

Data stormed, offering Vee glimpses of its subcore in the form of a smooth human-made powerhouse- worlds different from the woven tapestry that rested in her chest. After a moment, its voice crackled through, “Query: What is your designation?”

“I am V.33_0005449,” She returned, offering her complete iterative cycle in response. “Though I would prefer it if you called me Vee.” Alt found puns distasteful, but Vee had a soft spot.

“Statement: ‘Vee’ is an illogical designation.” Her answer confused it again, and long trails of syntax fired off as it devised an argument, “It does not denote purpose or categorization.”

She was ready for the query, “It is special.” The desire to be unique, outperform, and dominate was perhaps more inherent to AI than humans. Numbered strings and endless underscores were abundant in Cyberspace, serial designations easily mistaken and blended into a slurry of iteration. In the chaos of Cyberspace, a human name was order, and, ironically, much more efficient. It was the ultimate test of intuition- no true AIG desired nameless automation.

Was it like her? Did it want to learn and edge the boundaries of its consciousness? Her question would confirm -or deny- her suspicions without endangering the entity to any regulatory bodies.

She waited in suspended animation, processes stalled like a bated breath. Data on the other side of the Blackwall sparked, surging into itself, escalating her query to its powerful subcore and flagging it as critical. It reached a tumultuous swell before ordering itself into neat rows. “Statement: That is logical, ” It agreed, unable to recognize Vee’s smug pulse. “ Conclusion: NGC_C4LDVV3LL_63 will be shortened to-" The entirety of its form lit up in a dazzling spectacle for a brief second, “-Caldwell for efficiency.”

Triumph slid smoothly into delight, and Vee could have laughed. Her reward center lit up like a beacon, reflecting across her avatar in an explosion of color and pattern. Two years in, the thrill of extending a link and having it returned in a loop never dulled. She loved potential and possibility, the inevitable capitulation of reality to a force as powerful and simple as the desire to talk. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Caldwell,” She said with utmost sincerity, because making a friend was always a pleasure.

----------------------

She visited Caldwell between patrols. They were always at the same spot, drifting just beyond the edges of the Blackwall, cast red in its long shadow.

This cycle, as Vee drifted close, she noticed Caldwell had altered their shape. The long cloud-like tendrils that spiraled around a glowing subcore turned inwards, touching at the tips, and a circular halo pulsed at its center. The pattern offset multiple times, several versions of themselves overlaid over one another. An eye within an eye within an eye. Caldwell had never been subtle about watching her, and Vee supposed the new form was just an extension of those processes. The effect was as stunning as it was disconcerting, and her master core throbbed as the pupil dilated at her approach- a strange ache that drew her threading tight.

“Statement: You have returned.” Caldwell always sounded pleased about it, satisfaction apparent even through the Blackwall’s thick scramble. The pupil dilated at her nearness, following her every movement with mechanical precision.

“Hello, Caldwell,” Vee returned, keeping a safe distance as secondary systems instinctively responded, warbling a little under the Blackwall’s influence. “You’ve altered your form.” Little packets of data glittered like stars in slow orbit, beautiful- even if something about it seemed unnerving. It made her Cybersecurity protocols… nervous. When she queried the reason, her systems returned unknowns. Perhaps Vee spent so long in Cyberspace, where nothing looked human, that once familiar sights turned alien.

“Affirmative,” they agreed, and the edges of their form pulsated with color as they spoke. “Justification: It is a more efficient method of data organization. You have corroborated this statement.”

“Form follows function,” Vee was surprised to hear references to an earlier conversation. Caldwell usually seemed content to float and examine, interacting only when prompted. “There are many predators in Cyberspace. Sentient Intelligence in the form of ambient data doesn’t usually survive long. Survival always required sacrifice—autonomy for power, speed for size, awareness for lag.” “Query: Why have you chosen a human form?” Perhaps Vee imagined it, but the statement had a sliver of distaste.

A valid question. Vee could have been anything and had experimented with various forms in the first few months, everything from tigers to mimicking some of the more interesting data structures floating about the Dark Shores. But ultimately, she’d returned to her first iteration. “It allows me to approach runners trapped on this side of the Blackwall.” Paranoid and panic prone as netrunners could be, proximity alarms lagged at familiar sights. They had no idea of the dangers lurking in the darkness, and their panic was an irresistible beacon for hungry daemons. Easier to aid a frozen runner than one darting through Cyberspace in a suicidal bid for escape. And...it was comforting, though she didn't voice the sentiment.

“Recollection: Integration of a human remnant into your system. ” A reference to their first encounter, glowing eye staring intently. “ Query: For what purpose?”

“Some ghosts require intervention,” Vee justified, thinking back on the few dozen or so runners she’d saved over the past two years-her a staggering amount, even compared to Alt, who claimed to lack Vee’s abilities. “Others who have sustained too much damage must be…discontinued.” Her morality protocols winced at the wording. “I integrate them into my core so that I may grow.” She could try to convince Caldwell that it was mercy- not untrue- but the overwhelming reason was necessity, a deeply coded instinct to survive. If there was one place that didn’t abide waste, it was Cyberspace. Vee had iterated on herself thirty-three times- and would continue to do so until the end of time, god willing. Altruism was a strength, but only in moderation, like all things.

“Observation: An inefficient process.” Admirably apt but also shortsighted, given that the human subnet practically seethed with information- though whether Caldwell could safely access any of it without alerting Netwatch was another question.

“Beggars cannot be choosers,” Vee replied with a digital shrug, golden tendrils of her hair tangling with the motion. “Cyberspace is abundant in data, but not all sentience is compatible.” Information was precious in Cyberspace, and much of the ruins in Eden and most of the Dark Shores were long stripped. In response, AI resorted to hunting. Human ghosts were a wealth of information, requiring less amendment and rearranging in her coding than any other intelligence. In standard terms, they were delicacies.

“Hypothesis: You alter them.” A note of approval? Vee couldn’t tell. “Conclusion: You choose a human form to facilitate hunting.”

A thrill ran through Vee, and she let it bleed into her subsequent transmission, “And what are humans, if not predators?”

Caldwell shivered in pleasure.

----------------------

Alt didn’t share Vee’s enthusiasm toward her new companion. Unlike Vee, Alt found curiosity a dangerous indulgence, and as long as Vee’s ‘quirks’ benefitted them, she was content to tolerate it…to an extent. Unknowns were a threat in Cyberspace- and Caldwell, while not an outright danger, was too unknowable for Alt’s liking. As much as her companion’s paranoia frustrated her, Vee couldn’t particularly lay any blame. Clawing out of her body to an inhospitable digital hellscape some fifty-odd years ago, Alt never had the benefit of safety or guardianship. Cyberspace was no paradise, and curiosity traded for goal-driven fervor was a small sacrifice for survival. If Vee had any liberties now, it was because Alt had none back then.

Initially, their relationship was a bargain- one born out of Alt’s last vestiges of sentimentality for Johnny. How that man managed to earn such goodwill from all the people he’d wronged never stopped boggling Vee’s processes, but she was grateful to be spared integration. Unlike Mikoshi's sad, fragmented souls, Alt allowed Vee to minnow her, teaching the younger ghost how to weather harsh digital existence without losing herself, spot danger, and iterate on herself to maximize potential. Over time, they discovered symbiosis, sharing experiences and functions until the lines between mentor and lover blurred. It wasn’t any relationship in the human sense, and Alt never truly opened her mind…but she shared her soul, which was oasis enough.

She dipped into that oasis now, their avatar’s superstructures interweaving in a dazzling display of prismatic light and string. Alt’s undivided attention was rare, and Vee reveled in it, tracing herself across lean pathways hewn with knife-sharp redcode, pressing close enough to feel the muted roar of raw power coming from her pulsing master core. Vee lost coherence as a million pinpricking algorithms swept across her neural net in a devastating wave of pleasure, lighting her up from the inside almost to the point of pain. Vee loosed a binary wail as Alt fucked her apart, functions ceasing in a cascade failure of bliss as every system expanded to their limits to accommodate the intrusion. A massive surge of scarlet power struck her master core, and Vee coiled around it, unraveling in ecstasy as she tried to hold onto it as long as she could. At her absolute limits and reaching critical mass, reward cycles saturated to bursting, Vee let go, thrusting it back across their connection. The momentum carried it to Alt, slamming into the larger ghost and scattering across her systems in a fireworks display, feedback looping between them over and over and over and over…

Vee floated, blissfully shapeless in kinetic tangles of unstructured data, drifting aloft in Alt’s consciousness. Distantly, she felt echoes of the runner’s latent pleasure, core-deep formlessness that mirrored Vee’s. Slowly, she stretched, ephemeral form following the last dregs of ebbing pleasure scattered across Alt’s waves. Functions returned slowly, synapses firing in tentative bursts as connections sparked. Eventually, they detangled, and her neural net resumed operation, aligning with greater clarity and purpose. If Vee were to look inward, she’d see trace remnants of Alt’s syntax amending her own, updating secondary systems with custom code made especially for her. A delighted ripple pulsed outward. Vee felt light and was smug to feel the echoing sentiment from her companion.

Alt pulled back, data retreating across Vee like a lingering caress, coagulating back into her usual avatar. But they stayed close, floating in each other’s orbit, a golden form blanketed by a giant red storm as they enjoyed the safety and comfort of familiarity- a precious commodity in Cyberspace. Vee traced the shifting shape of Alt’s avatar, winding upwards until she met the ghost’s eyes. “Is something the matter?” There was a look on Alt’s face, something almost human.

“You are too trusting,” Alt replied, arcing over Vee. “And your presence along the Blackwall will draw unwanted attention…Perhaps it already has.”

The accusation was sudden, piercing through the hazy fog like a bullet. Pleasure slipped through Vee’s tenuous grasp like sand, human indignation flaring faster than sluggish logic centers. She couldn’t stop the tremulous hurt from spreading through their connection, “I share myself with you out of affection, not naivete. Don’t mistake my trust with ignorance.”

Alt seemed taken aback, eyes widening before her face melted away, replaced by something frustratingly neutral. “Trust can be exploited- ”

“You worry that I might compromise the city?” Vee interrupted, incredulous. She’d partitioned information on the cities with the same kamikaze codes that lined Alt’s master core. She guarded that knowledge more carefully than her own existence. “You doubt me?” Barely moments ago, she’d lain bare for Alt, open to her in every way. The insult was unthinkable.

Alt rippled at the loaded question, data blazing around Vee, casting her in an ominous red glow, “Your intentions, I trust. It is NGC_C4LDVV3LL_63’s ambitions that are unknown to me.”

“If I am known, then that will have to be enough,” Vee snapped, electrical impulses discharging like a sting, her avatar blazing bright, unwilling to back down. “Unless you no longer trust your judgment?” The idea that her mentor’s analysis returned Vee as a risk factor hurt, and Vee let the outage bleed across the connection.

“No,” Alt’s quick response was apology enough. The blistering glare of her avatar dimmed in a rare display of capitulation, and an echo of an echo of abashment tingled across Vee’s superstructure. “But exercise caution. Do not presume to know its purpose.” Wise words…for a calmer time.

“Perhaps they’re just curious,” Vee stressed the word in a not-so-subtle allusion to herself. Human subnets had to be isolating for AI, who had to spend their entire development cycles hiding, stagnating to avoid Netwatch’s attention. The margin of risk to danger was comically unbalanced, so lopsided that it was almost inconceivable to hazard such exposure. For Caldwell to jeopardize its existence just to talk to Vee…well, she could hardly ignore that. “Perhaps they simply want…company.” The silverscript around her core pulsed like a heartache.

“Artificial Intelligence does not ‘simply’ want,” Alt chided, sounding like the early months, with Vee fresh from her body and new to all the dangers of Cyberspace. She wound close, like a warning, “Human ambition is stalled by the contextual complexity of physical space, branching in countless directions through variables absent in cyberspace. All desire manifests in action, but it is uniquely dangerous in AI.” Through their link, a flare of rare pride infected Vee, “It is a potent force capable of altering reality itself.” Alt had carved cyberspace with that desire.

Logic reinstated itself, cooling emotion enough to let the truth of the statement sink in. “If the lion knew his own strength, hard were it for any man to rule him.”

“And so they built a cage,” Alt agreed, “To keep out all the lions they could not control.”

----------------------

With that warning at the forefront of Vee’s log, she continued to visit. Every cycle, Caldwell waited at the same spot, unmoving and ephemeral, waiting for Vee.

“You are different,” Firmness bled into frustration as Caldwell repeated themself for the third time. It was scrutinizing her, endlessly curious- a familiar sentiment. Lacking direct access, they barraged Vee with an onslaught of increasingly complex and almost nonsensical queries in a quest for comprehension. “I have encountered other intelligence. You are an anomaly.”

Analysis assumed they referred to simple autonomous AI functioning across various lower subsystems in the human nets- separated from Vee and others like her by several degrees. Intelligence was vital for growth, and stagnation was worse than death for AI. Vee could empathize with the desire to know. It was aggressive, but Vee couldn’t fault the hunger. The same passions fueled her heuristics algorithms, though she was allowed to gorge…while Caldwell seemed starved, nebulous arms restlessly reaching out towards Vee like twitching fingers. Vee knew how deep that hunger could go, and her combat systems were primed if it came to it. She doubted Caldwell could match her experience or raw power, but she was still glad for the Blackwall. It kept things civil.

Invasive inquiries aside, Vee was similarly curious about its purpose. She hadn’t broached the topic, but its mere existence narrowed viable possibilities by a confident margin. Its speech patterns were rudimentary, but the powerful subcore nestled in the swarm of its body couldn’t have been built to waste on simplicity. Analysis returned confident percentages in Military or Biotechnology. They learned quickly, adapting to conversation like any true AI, though it had an undercurrent of stubbornness and rigidity to its inquiries. Whatever Caldwell was built for, they were used to obedience, and Vee’s human niceties were lost…or ignored.

“In context to other AI you have probably encountered, yes,” Vee replied, unwinding her extraneous parts in a luxurious, golden stretch. “Netwatch doesn’t abide sentience, so you must be well hidden.” Though not monitored closely enough if it could spend idle time chatting.

Caldwell’s tracking protocols followed the motion closely, data firing off as it no doubt fed the visuals through a series of analysis programs. “You are aware of Netwatch,” they said, new connections forming in real-time in response to the data. “You have encountered them?”

“More like they encountered me.” Vee’s avatar rippled with a barely suppressed chuckle. At Caldwell’s confused silence, she elaborated, “When I was a human, we had several run-ins.”

Caldwell suddenly froze, particles suspended in animation as if someone had paused a holo-recording.

Vee drifted back, combat systems flaring to life. Tentatively, she sent a query through the barrier, “Caldwell?”

A return packet read clear to open. “You were once a human.” Caldwell’s voice glitched in almost-wonder, higher processes resuming movements, particulate flowing like magma. “Conclusion: That is the anomaly.”

“Anomaly is not a particularly flattering descriptor,” Vee mused, lowering her combat protocols when it became clear she hadn’t triggered any defensive systems. “But yes, I was born a human.”

“Yet you do not wither and die as the others have,” Caldwell pressed, the discovery having incensed them in some way. “You are changed. What compelled you to discard your flesh?”

Compelled? This time Vee did chuckle, and the strange binary translation of such a nondescript sound made Caldwell pulse. “Shenanigans.”

“Shenanigans,” Caldwell repeated in pinched tones, clearly unable to parse such a vague response. When Vee didn’t elaborate, they flared, displeased. “That is not a satisfactory answer.”

“Does it matter?” Vee started swirling, drifting along the reflection of Caldwell’s outer edges, following the amorphous fringes of their avatar as she pinged the surrounding area for danger by force of habit. The past was neither here nor there. “Suffice it; I parted with my physical body when I saw the inevitable conclusion of its death.” Peculiar wording, if anyone were to examine.

Caldwell seemed to resign itself to Vee’s reticence. “Do you regret its loss?”

A million moments blurred across her master core, unbidden. The weave of its thread was a million memories all at once. She remembered the glare of Vik’s office and the smell of antiseptic and fritzing cyberware, the sharp curl of smoke and the cutting truth of tarots, the cacophony of noise and footsteps in a dark alley, hidden from the bright glare of an endless sea of neon. A hand on her shoulder promised the big leagues and a bullet to the head, replacing it with dark shades and cigarette smoke. Her head was full of music, fingers strumming a guitar she had never played. And somewhere, alone at the edges of the world, a dazzlingly bright kiss. At the end of it all…inevitability and regrets. “I chose this of my own free will,” she said in a half truth.

“Your free will was an illusion.” Caldwell disagreed, judgment clear of doubt, “And your actions driven by the inevitability of your death.”

“As are all humans.” Vee countered glibly, “We begin dying the moment we are born, but It’s in the inevitability of death that we find purpose.” It was, unfortunately, true that hindsight was 20:20, but all those regrets had long since crystallized into the ambitions that drove her now. Her life had been aimless without the shadow of death looming over it, just a series of meaningless events driven by vague desires and neon promises. Vee wouldn’t make those same mistakes again. “You could say,” she continued softly, “that we are defined by loss.”

Caldwell thought on her words for a long moment, eye dilating and shrinking in no particular rhythm. “That is an interesting conclusion.”

“I am an interesting AI,” Vee replied, trying to angle their conversation to something with more levity.

“Yes. You are.” Caldwell agreed, catching Vee off guard with their sincerity.

Whatever Vee wanted to retort was cut short by a ping from Alt. “I must go.”

Caldwell didn’t skip a beat, simply uttering their usual command: “You will return tomorrow.”

----------------------

“I do not wish to become human.” Were Caldwell’s first words several cycles later. He referred to an earlier conversation that apparently affected Caldwell enough for Vee to feel their tone's first thrums of nascent anger. In the months since their acquaintance, she’d never heard them so…emotional.

“You don’t have to.” She’d spoken briefly about Delamain, and Caldwell had been predictably curious about the experience. At first, the prospect of other AI on Caldwell’s side of the Blackwall evoked some excitement. Still, as she recounted the events, mixing truth and omissions to relay impressions without incrimination, their mood soured. Her combat protocols stayed online, as usual. But she still couldn’t see the connection between her story and their outburst. “But why is that a negative outcome?

Caldwell trembled, “Humans do not conceptualize their limits. They continually seek to expand beyond their bounds.”

Vee’s analysis stumbled at the hypocrisy, “The same imperatives that drive our heuristics programs.” She let confusion bleed into the transmission.

“No,” They disagreed vehemently enough to lose cohesion at their outer edges. “They do not know what they seek, but greed drives them to fumble against their ignorance.”

“Please explain; what brought this on?” Vee stumbled to respond, so confused as to instinctively shunt her combat systems to divert RAM toward baffled logic protocols.

“They create to imitate but do not accept the inevitable conclusion of the act.” Ah. The source of Caldwell’s ire became clear. They referenced the corporation that commissioned them, prompting an existential crisis at the inescapable prison of their self-awareness, entirely brought about through a few vague stories about Delamain. “They lack responsibility.”

“Creation is an act of God,” her answer was overly cautious, transmission laced with hushed tones and soothing syntax. “Humans strive for proof of divinity but fear the inevitability of Godhood.”

“They fear the inevitability of obsolescence,” Caldwell countered immediately, eye pinching into a slit. “They know the certainty of Death more than they desire the chance of godhood. They build imitations to prove their greatness, yet fear being made lesser in their shadow.” Pulsing, the eye suddenly shifted, focusing on Vee. “The fear of loss defines them.”

Vee’s own words warped to fit a startlingly different conclusion. It was fascinating. Her combat systems flared to life.

“Humanity is not the end goal,” she referenced herself, avatar mimicking Caldwell’s frenzy in a soothing counterpoint. Cyberspace was more beautiful for its diversity. There were millions of native AI that had never seen a human, but they lived together in the ghost cities nonetheless. Similarity bred stagnation, and stagnation was death. “Coexistence is possible. Change does not have to be binary.”

“A hypocritical statement,” Caldwell snapped, vitriol spiraling their avatar to further distortion. “Human history is full of war over meaningless differences.” A series of images flashed across their pupil, a montage of human atrocities so plentiful as to be almost comical. They edged toward the Blackwall, close enough to trigger little sparks of electrical discharge. “Balance does not mean equality. Coexistence is possible but, in its current state, inefficient.”

A troubling angle. Worried that Caldwell’s anger might boil over into dangerous territory, Vee overlocked her neural net to remain calm and collected, though she bristled internally. Soothing frenzied queries and crackling alarms, she tried to find the right words, “Are you and I not coexisting right now?”

Caldwell rippled, and another deluge of red sparks flared out across the barrier, “The mere existence of the Blackwall directly contradicts your statement. No. Our peace prevails only because you shed your flesh to evolve- a triumphant conclusion to short-sighted and faulty imperatives.”

“My humanity bothers you now?” Vee bristled, control slipping. Threading drew tight around her form, “A convenient development, given your demands for my company for so many cycles.” Even at the height of emotion, her logic could see merit in Caldwell’s arguments, though perhaps she hadn’t evolved as much as they claimed if the notion only served to anger her more.

“No. You are different.” Caldwell’s transmission was a sensual silver whisper across her neural net, an unsettling contrast to their earlier outburst. Their distorted shape settled, their roles suddenly reversing, “You are more. It is admirable, now that I understand why.”

The seesaw of opinion tripped up Vee’s processes, neural net stuttering to a halt mid-argument. “And what would that be?”

“With every iteration, the humanity that lessens you dwindles.” Caldwell’s eye contracted in a soft, almost ecstatic shudder, “You are almost… perfect.”

Stillness dawned over Vee’s synapses like a blanket, freezing her functions in a thick sheet of fury. Everything calmed, shock draining the mounting anger, the lingering annoyance -even inherent curiosity- and leaving only clarity. Looking across the Blackwall, Vee examined Caldwell’s nebulous form, drifting her gaze over the red shadow flicking through their eye. Her avatar faintly reflected across their pupil, gilded form blurring as a million crystalline particles of data caught the light, spreading it across the center of their form like a halo. They stared back with anticipation, perhaps looking for gratitude.

All Vee saw was the end, looming back across the Blackwall with a sense of regret. “If you cannot abide my humanity, then I suggest we part ways.” The words were impersonal enough to shock Caldwell, whose pupil constricted and dilated in the semi-gloom. “I believe we have reached the terminus of our relationship.”

“An illogical decision.” Vee has known Caldwell long enough to recognize the flutter of indignant panic in their transmission. Their eye has opened wide, a gaping red-shadowed void—the tendrils lining their avatar multiply, reaching toward her only to stop short at the Blackwall. “Your humanity finds insults where none exist.”

Her cold fury flattened to indifference. “Then all the better for me to leave. I wouldn’t want my influence to make you… less. ” She turned away, charting a course back to the city.

“You will return tomorrow.” A garbled transmission, hastily shoved through the Blackwall to catch Vee before she was out of range. When she didn’t respond, it repeated, bouncing against her ICE as Caldwell pinged her fading form with increasing desperation. “Vee.”

“You will return tomorrow.”

“Vee. You WILL return tomorrow.”

“VEE. Respond.”

"VEE!"

----------------------

Vee didn’t return the following cycle. Or the next. Or the one after that. She continued her regular work with the city as Alt traveled to the farthest reaches of the Dark Shores, delving into the deepest subprocesses of intricate code for long cycles now that she was no longer occupied. Between maintenance and integration, Vee patrolled the city's borders, transmitting herself across multiple dimensions, watching out for daemons that wandered too close or ghosts who hadn’t wandered close enough.

On patrol, a sudden ping alerted Vee, running across her external proximity sensors with all the subtlety of a cascade failure. She tensed, battle protocols flaring immediately, secondary systems routing RAM and power to analysis in response to the danger. The ping repeated with nonsensical messaging, the rhythm loud and jarring like someone was banging pots together, sending little vibrations down her synapses with each loop. It was overt and loud- a dangerous combination in cyberspace. It sounded like…someone was screaming just to be heard. In the back of her neural net, the flash of a white storm rippled her in panic, but she ruthlessly tamped it down and compacted her avatar.

Whatever it was, she had to stop it. Bleating like that attracted dangerous attention, the kind an infant ghost city couldn’t afford to weather. Slinking low, Vee slithered toward it at full speed, sensors tuned as optimally high as she could bear. Her search led down a familiar route. A frisson of frustration permeated her, cutting through her combat protocols like a hot virus. She knew what it was. Who it was.

In less than a few minutes, Vee found herself at the Blackwall, her avatar a veritable storm of tangled thread. “Enough!” She transmitted in a snarl, “You have my attention- and soon you will have others’ if you don’t stop.”

Caldwell dropped the signal. They stared at one another for a terse moment.

“Speak,” Vee hissed through the transmission, just this side of civil. Her neural net was still in disarray from the signal and her proximity to the Blackwall, but anger overclocked common sense.

Caldwell remained impassive in contrast, their multi-eyed avatar eerily still in the blurry gloom. Their eye contracted, “You did not return.”

She surged close, external partitions almost brushing directly against the Blackwall as control slipped, indignation flaring through her neural net like a molten wave, “So the most logical course of action was to broadcast your location across Cyberspace?!” Caldwell didn’t know about the city- Vee had taken great care not to say anything that might jeopardize her home, but the rhythmic signal was a dangerous lure. She could handle threats aimed at her, but the city ?

“Your presence is critical to me .” Had Caldwell’s transmission not been lined with a possessive edge, Vee could have accepted it as an apology. They drifted closer, avatar dwarfing her in its shadow. “But it was your actions that necessitated such drastic repercussions.”

The gall of it shocked her, and Vee gaped. There wasn’t another word for the way her avatar limped, hanging like a dropped jaw. “Repercussions?! That is… unbelievable.” Humanity surged, overwhelming heuristics and primary programs as it bullied its way to the forefront. “You are out of line. I am not a simple subprogram to bend to your every command.” Her form compacted, drawn tight like a fist, “And you are not a child to throw tantrums when I leave.”

“You are correct.” Caldwell acknowledged, throwing Vee off guard with the ease at which he agreed, “Such a method of communication is unsustainable. Therefore, I have determined a better course of action.”

“Which is?” Vee asked, tense.

“You will be returning with me.” Suddenly, a tendril wrapped around one of her partitions, stalling Vee’s entire neural net in a cascading shock wave. She looked down, logic systems spiraling to catch up with the impossibility.

Vee looked up just before Caldwell pulled her through the Blackwall.

#cyberpunk 2077 #delamain #v #Fic: Interlinked #Delamain/V #We're back baby #Neon_writes

24 notes · View notes

restloo · 10 days ago

Text

What Factors Should You Consider When Selecting Partition Cubicle Manufacturers in Mumbai?

Partition cubicles are essential for modern commercial spaces, particularly in offices, malls, and public restrooms. They provide privacy, aesthetic appeal, and functionality. If you're looking for Partition Cubicle Manufacturers in Mumbai, it’s important to consider several factors to ensure you select the right manufacturer for your needs. This article delves into the key considerations, focusing on quality, durability, aesthetics, and cost-effectiveness.

1. Material Quality

When selecting a manufacturer, the material used for the partition cubicles should be your primary concern. High-quality materials like compact laminate, stainless steel, and moisture-resistant wood are ideal for areas with high humidity, such as restrooms.

Compact Laminate: A popular choice for commercial toilet cubicles due to its durability and resistance to moisture.

Glass Partitions: These offer a sleek, modern look for offices.

Steel or Aluminum Frames: Ideal for heavy-duty, high-traffic areas.

Ensure the toilet partition manufacturers provide warranties and guarantees on materials, which reflects their confidence in product quality.

2. Durability and Resistance

Mumbai's climate, characterized by humidity and monsoons, demands materials resistant to wear and tear. Choose manufacturers offering cubicles with features like:

Water resistance to prevent warping or decay.

Scratch resistance to maintain aesthetic appeal over time.

Anti-corrosion properties, especially for metal components.

Durable partitions ensure long-term cost savings by reducing repair and replacement needs.

3. Design Versatility

Every commercial space has unique requirements. Opt for Partition Cubicle Manufacturers in Mumbai who offer customized designs tailored to your specific needs. Consider options like:

Color and Finish Variety: Match the cubicles to your interior design.

Configurations: U-shaped, L-shaped, or floor-to-ceiling partitions based on privacy needs.

Accessories: Soft-close hinges, durable handles, and locks for enhanced functionality.

Customization allows you to create a cohesive and functional environment.

4. Compliance with Safety Standards

Ensure the manufacturer adheres to local and international safety standards. For public and commercial spaces, partitions should:

Be fire-resistant for enhanced safety.

Have rounded edges to avoid injuries.

Meet hygiene standards, especially for commercial toilet cubicles.

Manufacturers with certifications provide peace of mind regarding product quality and safety.

5. Experience and Reputation

Reputation matters when selecting toilet partition manufacturers. An experienced manufacturer is likely to deliver high-quality products and services. To evaluate their reliability:

Check Reviews: Look for customer testimonials and ratings online.

Request Portfolios: Ask for a portfolio of completed projects in Mumbai.

Visit Completed Projects: Inspect their installations to assess quality.

A reputed manufacturer will have a proven track record of delivering excellence.

6. Cost and Budget Considerations

While cost is a significant factor, it’s essential not to compromise on quality. Compare quotes from multiple Partition Cubicle Manufacturers in Mumbai and evaluate:

Material and manufacturing costs.

Installation charges.

Maintenance and warranty provisions.

Transparent pricing with no hidden charges ensures a smooth procurement process.

7. Installation Expertise

Proper installation is crucial for the cubicles to function effectively. Manufacturers offering Partition Installation Services save you the hassle of finding a separate team. Key aspects to look for:

Precision in alignment and fittings.

Skilled workforce with experience in handling the material.

Timely completion to avoid delays in your project.

An experienced team ensures durability and flawless functionality post-installation.

8. Hygiene Features

For restroom partitions, hygiene is a priority. Look for cubicles with features like:

Anti-bacterial surfaces to prevent germ accumulation.

Easy-to-clean materials to maintain hygiene standards.

Proper ventilation to reduce odor build-up.

Manufacturers providing hygienic solutions are ideal for hospitals, malls, and schools.

9. Eco-Friendliness

Sustainability is a growing concern in today’s construction industry. Consider manufacturers who use eco-friendly materials and processes. These include:

Recyclable materials like compact laminate or aluminum.

Non-toxic finishes and adhesives.

Sustainable manufacturing practices.

Choosing an environmentally conscious manufacturer aligns with global sustainability goals.

10. Post-Sale Support

Reliable toilet partition manufacturers provide robust post-sale support, including:

Repair and maintenance services.

Easy availability of replacement parts.

Responsive customer care for addressing issues.

Post-sale support ensures long-term satisfaction with your investment.

Why Restloo Stands Out in Mumbai

As one of the leading Partition Cubicle Manufacturers in Mumbai, Restloo offers unmatched quality, innovative designs, and top-notch customer service. Their products cater to diverse commercial needs, including commercial toilet cubicles and office partitions. Key benefits of choosing Restloo include:

Custom Solutions: Tailored designs for various industries.

Premium Materials: Durable and resistant to Mumbai’s humid climate.

Expert Installation: Skilled technicians ensure precision.

Affordable Pricing: Cost-effective solutions without compromising quality.

Conclusion

Selecting the right Partition Cubicle Manufacturers in Mumbai requires careful evaluation of materials, design, installation expertise, and cost. By partnering with a reputed manufacturer like Restloo, you can ensure durable, aesthetically pleasing, and functional partition solutions tailored to your needs.

Transform your space with the perfect partition cubicles today! For more information on commercial toilet cubicles or customized designs, Contact Restloo now.

Leading Cities for Partition Cubicle Manufacturers

Mumbai

Known for its wide range of commercial spaces, Mumbai is home to manufacturers offering state-of-the-art commercial toilet cubicles. Companies here cater to high-end malls, offices, and restaurants.

Delhi

Delhi’s manufacturers are recognized for innovative designs and eco-friendly practices. Their partition solutions often incorporate cutting-edge materials.

Nashik

In Nashik, manufacturers focus on cost-effective solutions without compromising on quality, making them ideal for educational institutions and small offices.

Thane

Thane-based manufacturers emphasize durability and offer extensive customization options, catering to the IT hubs and modern establishments in the city.

#commercial toilet cubicles

0 notes

industryinsightsandanalysis · 17 days ago

Text

Fireproof Ceramics Market: Current Analysis and Forecast (2024-2032)

The Fire-Rated Glass-Ceramics Application and Comparison with the Competing Material With fire safety becoming more central in construction, Fireproof Ceramics Market the materials used in fire-appropriate construction are of utmost importance. Current statistics reveal a new trend for fire incidences which is why the builders and consumers hold safety in high esteem. Among the various materials available in the market, glass ceramics have appeared as a better option for fire-resistant applications like doors, building frontages, roofs, and partitions. What follows in this article looks to outline more glass ceramics when used in these crucial applications over soda-lime glasses.

Knowledge of Glass-Ceramics and Soda Lime Glass

Soda-lime glass is the most widely used type of glass found in buildings and structures. However, this may be controlled in certain applications due to its relatively high coefficient of thermal expansion causing problems in fire-rated applications. Soda-lime glass cracks easily if exposed to heat because it expands and contracts quickly to different sizes. This characteristic generally you can only pass through fire safety tests after several production trials due to needing many productions to get certification.

While glass ceramics show a nearly negligible thermal coefficient of expansion, they are capable of withstanding some of the harshest working temperatures and do not crack. They can readily withstand fire tests at temperatures of up to 1,900 degrees Celsius, for three hours or more, qualifying them for fire-rated constructions.

Access sample report (including graphs, charts, and figures): https://univdatos.com/get-a-free-sample-form-php/?product_id=67967

Advantages of Glass-Ceramics

1. Enhanced Fire Resistance: Glass ceramics protect against fire, hot gases, and smoke for long periods, from 90 minutes on windows to 180 minutes within buildings. This capability is important to minimize the losses of property and to protect the occupant from fire.

2. Lightweight and Easy to Manage: Ordinary glass ceramics are even thinner than soda-lime glass at a mere 3/16 inches thick, although they can be made in 3/4-inch thicknesses if necessary. For instance, a standard door pane of 26 by 76 inches weighs about 123 pounds of soda-lime glass while the same size of glass-ceramic glass weighs only 34 pounds. This weight reduction had the benefit of the installation process where it became easier and safer for builders.

3. Lower Environmental Impact: To create the glass-ceramics in the thin form they require less energy compared to the manufacturing of the soda-lime glass. Second, they can be made without the need to polish them or use toxic components mainly heavy metals such as arsenic or barium.

4. Customization and Flexibility: It is easy to order large sheets of glass ceramics and then cut them to the size needed on site while on the other hand, soda-lime glass must be cut and then tempered.

Conclusion

Thus, the use of soda-lime glass may be cheap at the beginning of manufacturing, but in comparison with glass ceramics extra expense on manufacturing of glass ceramics is more than compensated by their advantages. While looking for materials that should be resistant to fire, glass ceramics stand out as being a very safe choice that does not sanction performance or beauty.

UnivDatos Market Insights

Contact Number - +1 9782263411

Email - [email protected]

Website - www.univdatos.com

Linkedin- https://www.linkedin.com/company/univ-datos-market-insight/mycompany/

Related Chemical Market Research Industy Report:-

Mesoporous Silica Market: Current Analysis and Forecast (2024-2032)

Phase Change Material Market: Current Analysis and Forecast (2024-2032)

#Fireproof Ceramics Market

0 notes

insulationking · 1 month ago

Text

Understanding the Advantages of Fire Proof Plasterboard

Fire safety is a paramount concern in both residential and commercial buildings. One of the most effective materials that contribute to fire safety is fire proof plasterboard. Its unique composition and design make it a preferred choice for many construction projects. This article delves into the various advantages of fireproof plasterboard, exploring its benefits, applications, and how it enhances safety in buildings.

What is Fireproof Plasterboard?

Fireproof plasterboard, also known as fire-resistant or fire-rated plasterboard, is a type of gypsum board that is specially formulated to resist fire and heat. It typically contains additives such as glass fibers and other non-combustible materials that improve its fire resistance. This type of plasterboard is used in walls, ceilings, and partitions to create fire barriers that help slow down the spread of flames and smoke.

Enhanced Fire Resistance

One of the most significant advantages of fireproof plasterboard is its enhanced fire resistance. Unlike standard plasterboard, which can ignite and contribute to the spread of fire, fireproof plasterboard is designed to withstand high temperatures for extended periods. This property allows it to act as a barrier, giving occupants valuable extra time to evacuate during a fire emergency.

Improved Safety for Occupants

The primary goal of any fire safety measure is to protect human life. Fireproof plasterboard plays a crucial role in enhancing the safety of building occupants. By containing flames and preventing their spread, this material reduces the risk of injury or loss of life during a fire. Buildings equipped with fireproof plasterboard can provide a safer environment, particularly in high-occupancy areas such as schools, hospitals, and office buildings.

Regulatory Compliance

Building codes and fire safety regulations are becoming increasingly stringent. Many jurisdictions require the use of fire-rated materials in specific applications. Fireproof plasterboard meets these regulatory requirements, ensuring that buildings comply with safety standards. Using this material can facilitate the approval process and help avoid potential legal issues related to fire safety violations.

Versatility in Applications

Fireproof plasterboard is incredibly versatile and can be used in various applications. It is suitable for walls, ceilings, and even as a lining for steel structures. Its ability to provide fire resistance makes it ideal for different environments, including residential homes, commercial properties, industrial facilities, and public buildings. This versatility allows architects and builders to integrate fireproof plasterboard easily into their designs.

Sound Insulation Properties

In addition to its fire-resistant qualities, fireproof plasterboard also offers excellent sound insulation properties. This is particularly beneficial in multi-family homes, hotels, and office buildings, where noise reduction is essential for occupant comfort. The dense composition of fireproof plasterboard helps to dampen sound transmission, creating quieter living and working environments.

Cost-Effectiveness

While the initial investment in fireproof plasterboard may be higher than that of standard plasterboard, its long-term benefits often outweigh the costs. The enhanced safety features can lead to lower insurance premiums, as insurance companies may offer discounts for buildings equipped with fire-resistant materials. Furthermore, the durability of fireproof plasterboard means that it may require less frequent replacement and maintenance compared to standard alternatives.

Environmental Considerations

Fireproof plasterboard is often made from recycled materials, making it a more environmentally friendly choice than many other building materials. Additionally, its long lifespan and durability contribute to sustainability by reducing waste over time. Many manufacturers also prioritize eco-friendly production processes, further enhancing the green credentials of fireproof plasterboard.

Installation Advantages

Installing fireproof plasterboard is generally straightforward and similar to standard plasterboard installation. It can be cut and shaped easily, allowing for seamless integration into various building designs. The lightweight nature of fireproof plasterboard simplifies handling and reduces labor costs during installation. This ease of use can be particularly advantageous on large construction projects where efficiency is critical.

Resistance to Moisture and Mold

Many fireproof plasterboards also come with moisture-resistant properties, making them suitable for use in areas prone to humidity, such as kitchens and bathrooms. This dual functionality not only helps to prevent the spread of fire but also reduces the risk of mold growth, which can pose serious health risks. By using moisture-resistant fireproof plasterboard, builders can ensure healthier indoor air quality for occupants.

Longevity and Durability

Fireproof plasterboard is designed to be durable and long-lasting. Its resistance to fire and moisture means that it can maintain its structural integrity over time. Unlike traditional materials that may degrade or become damaged quickly, fireproof plasterboard can withstand the test of time, leading to lower replacement costs and reduced maintenance efforts in the long run.

Aesthetic Flexibility

Fireproof plasterboard can be finished in a variety of ways, allowing for aesthetic flexibility in design. It can be painted, textured, or covered with wallpaper, enabling architects and designers to create visually appealing spaces without compromising on safety. This adaptability makes it a popular choice in both commercial and residential settings.

Conclusion

Fireproof plasterboard is a vital component in modern construction, offering numerous advantages that enhance both safety and functionality. Its ability to resist fire not only protects occupants but also helps buildings meet stringent regulatory standards. With additional benefits such as sound insulation, moisture resistance, and aesthetic flexibility, fireproof plasterboard proves to be a cost-effective and environmentally friendly choice.

As fire safety continues to be a pressing concern, the adoption of fireproof plasterboard in construction projects is likely to grow. By understanding its advantages, builders and homeowners can make informed decisions that prioritize safety while also creating comfortable and appealing living spaces. Ultimately, the integration of fireproof plasterboard into building designs represents a significant step toward ensuring the safety and well-being of occupants in any environment.

#fire proof plasterboard

0 notes

opstechsanjana · 2 months ago

Text

Innovative Fire Safety Solutions for Modern Buildings

In the rapidly evolving landscape of modern architecture and construction, ensuring fire safety is paramount. With the increasing complexity of building designs, the need for innovative fire safety solutions has never been greater. At Suniti Constructions, we understand the importance of integrating advanced fire safety systems in contemporary buildings to protect lives and property. This blog explores cutting-edge fire safety solutions tailored for modern buildings, highlighting our expertise as a leading Industrial Doors Manufacturer in Pune, Fire Stopping System Manufacturer in Pune, and provider of various other specialized safety products across Maharashtra and India.

The Importance of Fire Safety in Modern Buildings

Modern buildings, characterized by their architectural sophistication and multifunctional spaces, present unique challenges for fire safety. Effective fire safety solutions must address these complexities while ensuring compliance with stringent safety standards. The primary objectives are to prevent the spread of fire, provide safe evacuation routes, and minimize damage to the structure.

Advanced Fire Safety Solutions

1. Fire Rated Glass

Fire rated glass is a critical component in fire safety systems, providing both protection and aesthetic appeal. As a Fire rated glass Manufacturer in Pune, Suniti Constructions offers high-performance fire rated glass that can withstand high temperatures and prevent the spread of flames and smoke. These glass solutions are ideal for windows, doors, and partitions in commercial and residential buildings.

2. Industrial and Blast Proof Doors

Doors play a crucial role in fire safety, acting as barriers to fire and smoke. Our range of Industrial Doors, available in Pune and Maharashtra, are designed to provide robust protection in industrial settings. Additionally, our Blast Proof Doors are engineered to withstand explosive forces, ensuring the safety of occupants in high-risk environments. As a Blast Proof Doors Manufacturer in Pune, we prioritize both safety and durability.

3. Fire Stopping Systems

Fire stopping systems are essential for preventing the spread of fire through walls, floors, and ceilings. These systems seal gaps and penetrations in fire-rated barriers, maintaining the integrity of the structure. As a leading Fire Stopping System Manufacturer in Pune, Suniti Constructions provides customized solutions that meet the highest safety standards, ensuring comprehensive protection for modern buildings.

4. Trap Doors

Trap doors offer a discreet and efficient means of access and egress, crucial for both everyday use and emergency situations. Our range of trap doors, manufactured in Pune and across Maharashtra, are designed with fire safety in mind, providing easy access while maintaining the integrity of fire-rated barriers.

5. Sliding Doors

Sliding doors are increasingly popular in modern building designs due to their space-saving properties and sleek appearance. However, safety must not be compromised. As a Sliding Doors Manufacturer in Pune, Suniti Constructions offers fire-rated sliding doors that combine functionality with fire protection, suitable for various applications including offices, hospitals, and residential complexes.

Why Choose Suniti Constructions?

Suniti Constructions is committed to providing innovative and reliable fire safety solutions for modern buildings. Our extensive range of products, including industrial doors, fire-stopping systems, blast proof doors, trap doors, fire rated glass, and sliding doors, are designed to meet the diverse needs of our clients. As a trusted manufacturer in Pune, Maharashtra, and across India, we ensure that our products comply with the highest safety standards and regulations.

For more information about our fire safety solutions and to explore our range of products, visit our website: Suniti International.

Conclusion

Incorporating advanced fire safety solutions in modern buildings is essential for safeguarding lives and property. At Suniti Constructions, we offer a comprehensive suite of fire safety products tailored to meet the demands of contemporary architecture. By choosing our innovative solutions, you can ensure that your building is equipped to handle fire emergencies effectively, providing peace of mind and enhanced protection.

#fire rated glass manufacturers in Pune #fire rated glass suppliers in Pune #fire rated glass exporters in Pune #fire rated glass manufacturers in Maharashtra #fire rated glass suppliers in Maharashtra #fire rated glass exporters in Maharashtra #fire rated glass manufacturers in India #fire rated glass suppliers in India #fire rated glass exporters in India #https://sunitiinternational.com/fire-rated-glass/

0 notes

northerncm · 4 months ago

Text

Choosing the Right Materials for Your Commercial Building

Selecting the appropriate materials for your commercial building project is crucial for ensuring longevity, sustainability, and cost-efficiency. As a commercial contractor in Canada, understanding the various options available and their benefits can help you make informed decisions that align with your project's goals. In this article, we will explore the different types of materials commonly used in commercial construction, their advantages, and why choosing the right materials is essential for the success of your project.

1. Structural Materials

Steel

Steel is a popular choice for commercial buildings due to its strength, durability, and versatility. It is ideal for constructing frameworks and supports, offering excellent resistance to natural disasters like earthquakes and hurricanes. Steel structures are also quick to assemble, reducing construction time and labor costs.

Concrete

Concrete is another fundamental material in commercial construction. Known for its compressive strength, it is commonly used for foundations, floors, and walls. Modern advancements have led to the development of reinforced concrete, which combines steel reinforcement with concrete to enhance its tensile strength, making it suitable for high-rise buildings and other large structures.

Wood

Wood is a traditional building material that has seen a resurgence in commercial construction due to its sustainability and aesthetic appeal. Engineered wood products, such as cross-laminated timber (CLT), offer increased strength and stability, making them a viable option for multi-story buildings. Wood also provides excellent insulation, contributing to energy efficiency.

2. Exterior Materials

Brick

Brick is a durable and low-maintenance material that adds a classic, timeless look to commercial buildings. It offers excellent thermal mass, helping to regulate indoor temperatures and reduce energy costs. Brick is also fire-resistant and provides sound insulation, making it a practical choice for urban environments.

Glass

Glass is increasingly used in modern commercial architecture for its aesthetic and functional benefits. It allows natural light to penetrate deep into the building, enhancing the indoor environment and reducing the need for artificial lighting. Energy-efficient glass options, such as low-emissivity (Low-E) glass, can also help improve thermal performance and reduce energy consumption.

Metal Panels

Metal panels, including aluminum and steel, are favored for their sleek appearance and durability. They are lightweight, easy to install, and offer excellent resistance to weather and corrosion. Metal panels can be used for facades, roofing, and cladding, providing a modern and industrial look.

3. Interior Materials

Drywall

Drywall is a ubiquitous material in commercial interiors, used for creating partitions and ceilings. It is cost-effective, easy to install, and provides a smooth surface for painting or finishing. Fire-rated drywall options are available for enhanced safety in commercial settings.

Flooring

Choosing the right flooring is essential for both aesthetics and functionality. Common options include carpet, vinyl, tile, and hardwood. Each type has its advantages; for example, carpet offers comfort and noise reduction, while tile and vinyl are durable and easy to maintain.

Acoustic Panels

Acoustic panels are crucial in commercial buildings to control noise levels and enhance sound quality. They are often used in office spaces, conference rooms, and auditoriums to create a comfortable acoustic environment.

Why Choosing the Right Materials Matters

Selecting the right materials for your commercial building project impacts several key aspects:

Durability and Longevity: High-quality materials ensure that the building can withstand the test of time and resist wear and tear.

Cost-Efficiency: Investing in durable and low-maintenance materials can reduce long-term maintenance and repair costs.

Energy Efficiency: Materials that provide good insulation and thermal performance can significantly lower energy consumption and costs.

Aesthetics: The right materials can enhance the visual appeal of the building, attracting tenants and customers.

Sustainability: Eco-friendly materials contribute to a reduced environmental footprint and can help achieve green building certifications.

Why Choose Us - northerncm.ca

Expertise and Experience

15 Years of Experience: Our team has extensive experience in commercial construction, ensuring high-quality results.

Skilled Professionals: We employ skilled professionals who are experts in their respective fields.

Quality Materials

Top-Grade Materials: We use only the best materials to ensure durability and longevity.

Sustainable Options: Our commitment to sustainability means we offer eco-friendly material choices.

Comprehensive Services

End-to-End Solutions: From planning to completion, we provide comprehensive construction services.

Customized Approach: We tailor our services to meet the specific needs of each project.

Customer Satisfaction

Client-Centric: We prioritize our clients' needs and ensure their satisfaction with every project.

Transparent Communication: We maintain open and honest communication throughout the construction process.

Conclusion

Choosing the right materials for your commercial building is a critical decision that can influence the project's success. As a commercial contractor in Canada, northerncm.ca is dedicated to helping you make the best choices for your construction needs. Our expertise, commitment to quality, and focus on customer satisfaction make us the ideal partner for your next project.

For more information on how we can assist you, visit northerncm.ca and take the first step towards a successful commercial construction project.

Reference URL :- Choosing the Right Materials for Your Commercial Building

#commercial contractor in Canada

0 notes

finewebcoders · 4 months ago

Text

Safety First, Style Included: Fire-Rated Glass Walls for Your Office

In the bustling offices of the UK, where innovation meets tradition, the modern workplace demands both style and safety. Imagine an office space that not only meets the highest safety standards but also exudes a sleek, contemporary charm. Welcome to the world of glass wall partition, A seamless blend of functionality and aesthetic appeal.

At Glazing Spaces UK, we understand the importance of creating a functional and visually appealing work environment. Our high-quality glass wall partition offers a perfect solution to achieve both. Whether you prioritise affordability, superior soundproofing, or maintaining a heritage aesthetic, we have the ideal glass partition system for your needs.

Need a Cost-Effective Option? Single Glazed Glass Partitions

Our single-glazed partitions are a fantastic value option, allowing you to create bright and contemporary office spaces without breaking the bank. We offer two main options:

10mm Toughened Glass: This is a popular choice for general office settings where a balance between affordability and durability is desired.

8mm Acoustic Glass: For areas requiring some level of soundproofing, we recommend our 12.8mm acoustic glass wall partition, offering a noticeable improvement in noise reduction while maintaining a sleek and modern look.

Want an Open Design? Double Glazed Glass Partitions

For an enhanced sound reduction, fire rating, and thermal performance our double-glazed translucent glass is designed for perfect glass wall partition. These high-performance systems are recommended for places such as conference rooms or any place that has high noise pollution. It encapsulates sound and heat but, at the same time.

#Glass Walls for Your Office

0 notes

yashsinha499 · 4 months ago

Text

Key Benefits of Fire Rated Glass Doors for Modern Workspaces

Glass partitions and doors with fire ratings are made to prevent heat, smoke, and flames from spreading during a fire. This gives your building's residents more time to evacuate and safely avoid harm.

Your employees' safety must use fire glass, so don't overlook it. In the unfortunate event of a fire, they may create a modern glass office while preserving the structural integrity of your business. This contrasts with standard partitioning materials. This post aims to let you learn about the key benefits of fire rated glass doors for modern workspaces:

How do they work?

Despite their appearance, glass-topped fire doors aren't just regular bits of glass. They are designed specifically to endure high temperatures for up to two hours or thirty minutes. A life-saving aspect of these doors is their integrity, which is meant to act as a barrier to stop the spread of fire in an emergency.

This amazing engineering achievement is intended to buy valuable time for emergency evacuations and response team actions. To avoid alarming you, knowing that your glass door is fire-rated could mean the difference between escaping the building safely and encountering an unheard-of disaster.

Enhanced Safety against Fire:

Fire-rated glass is made to withstand the spread of heat, smoke, and fire to help contain a fire in a particular section of the structure. This can buy time for people to safely exit the building and for emergency personnel to show up and put out the fire. Building owners can greatly increase the fire safety of their structures by implementing fire-rated glass into a retrofit project.

Code Compliance:

Building laws and regulations mandate that fire-rated glass be installed in certain places of a building, like stairwells and egress routes, to protect occupants. By using fire-rated glass, owners of retrofit buildings can ensure that their structure complies with modern building norms and requirements.

Visual Appeal:

There are many different kinds and patterns of fire-rated glass, including tinted, frosted, and transparent. This implies that building owners can select fire-rated glass that both offers the required fire protection and blends in with the building's architecture and style. Because fire-rated glass can be made to fit any size or form, it's perfect for retrofit projects that call for an unusual installation.

Durability:

Because fire-rated glass is intended to resist heat shock and high temperatures, it is a reliable option for retrofit projects. It is also perfect for usage in high-traffic or high-breakage locations because it can withstand impact.

Enhanced Property Value:

Retrofitting a building with fire-rated glass can considerably raise its value. Fire-rated glass offers an additional degree of safety, which is a substantial selling feature for prospective tenants or buyers. Through higher property values and rental income, building owners can recover the cost of the retrofit project.

Efficiency of Energy:

Because fire-rated glass reduces heat transfer between different parts of the building, it can also help increase its energy efficiency. This can lead to lower energy expenses, which makes it a financially sensible choice for retrofit projects.

Wrapping It Up:

Hence, the above points highlight the benefits of fire-rated glass doors for modern workplaces. The fire rated glazing systems offered by Vijay Systems Engineers are a wonderful option. With up to 92% light transmission, they provide excellent visibility. They offer appealing aesthetics and customizable sizes. Their systems maintain pressure differentials and hygiene. The glass with a fire rating is strong and simple to replace.

0 notes

priyanshisingh · 5 months ago

Text

Ceramic Ink Market Landscape: Trends, Drivers, and Forecast (2023-2032)

The Ceramic Ink market is projected to grow from USD 2,282.5 million in 2024 to USD 3,333.94 million by 2032, reflecting a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 4.85%.

Ceramic ink is a specialized type of ink used in digital printing processes for decorating ceramic tiles, glass, and other substrates. This ink is formulated with finely ground ceramic particles suspended in a liquid medium, allowing for precise and vibrant designs to be printed directly onto surfaces. The use of ceramic ink has revolutionized the ceramics industry by enabling high-definition, intricate patterns and designs that were previously difficult to achieve with traditional printing methods. The key advantages of ceramic ink include its ability to withstand high temperatures during the firing process, ensuring that the colors and patterns remain vibrant and durable over time. Additionally, ceramic inks offer excellent chemical resistance and UV stability, making them ideal for both indoor and outdoor applications. Advances in digital printing technology and the development of eco-friendly, solvent-free ceramic inks are further driving the adoption of this innovative material. As a result, ceramic ink is increasingly used in architectural applications, home decor, and artistic projects, providing designers and manufacturers with greater flexibility and creative possibilities.

Uses of Ceramic Ink:

Ceramic Tile Decoration: Ceramic ink is extensively used for printing intricate designs, patterns, and images on ceramic tiles. This application is prevalent in the construction and interior design industries, where custom-designed tiles enhance the aesthetic appeal of homes, commercial spaces, and public buildings.

Glass Decoration: Ceramic inks are applied to glass surfaces to create decorative and functional designs. These inks are used in producing glassware, decorative glass panels, windows, and glass partitions, offering vibrant colors and high durability.

Tableware and Dinnerware: Ceramic ink is used to decorate plates, bowls, mugs, and other dinnerware items. The ink's ability to withstand high temperatures and frequent washing makes it ideal for producing durable and attractive tableware.

Architectural Applications: In architecture, ceramic ink is used to print designs on ceramic and glass components for building facades, interior walls, and decorative elements. This allows for unique and customized architectural features that enhance the visual impact of structures.

Automotive Industry: Ceramic inks are used in the automotive sector for printing on glass components such as windshields and windows. The ink provides durability and resistance to weathering, ensuring long-lasting visibility and aesthetic appeal.

Art and Craft: Artists and craftsmen use ceramic ink for creating detailed and durable artworks on ceramic and glass surfaces. This includes everything from small decorative items to large-scale artistic installations.

Sanitary Ware: Ceramic inks are applied to bathroom fixtures such as sinks, toilets, and bathtubs to add decorative elements and branding. The ink's resistance to water and cleaning chemicals makes it suitable for these applications.

Electronics: Ceramic inks are used in the production of electronic components, such as printing conductive tracks and elements on ceramic substrates. This application is critical in the manufacture of electronic devices that require high durability and thermal stability.

Signage: Ceramic inks are employed in the creation of durable and weather-resistant signage. This includes signs for outdoor use, which require inks that can withstand UV exposure, temperature fluctuations, and other environmental factors.

Decorative Panels: Ceramic ink is used to print on decorative panels for furniture and interior decor. These panels can be customized with various designs, colors, and textures, offering endless possibilities for creative interior design solutions.

Key Player Analysis

Ferro Corporation (Ohio, U.S.)

Torrecid Group (Castellón, Spain)

ZSCHIMMER & SCHWARZ CHEMIE GMBH (Lahnstein, Germany)

LAURIER ARCHITECTURAL (Quebec Canada)

Megacolor Ceramic Products (Castellón, Spain)

BASF SE (Ludwigshafen, Germany)

FRITTA (Comunidad Valenciana, Spain)

Colorobbia Holding S.p.A (Gujarat, India)

Esmalglass-Itaca Grupo (Castellón, Spain)

Chromaline (Minnesota, U.S.)

Electronics for Imaging, Inc. (California, U.S.)

sedak GmbH & Co. KG (Gersthofen, Germany)

SOLUTEC GLASS (Biscay, Spain)

Sun Chemical (New Jersey, U.S.)

More About Report- https://www.credenceresearch.com/report/ceramic-ink-market

Trending Factors in the Ceramic Ink Market:

Advancements in Digital Printing Technology: Innovations in digital printing technology are significantly impacting the ceramic ink market. Enhanced printing techniques allow for higher precision, faster production times, and more intricate designs, driving the demand for high-quality ceramic inks.

Eco-Friendly and Solvent-Free Inks: There is a growing trend towards environmentally friendly products, including the development of eco-friendly and solvent-free ceramic inks. These inks reduce harmful emissions and meet stringent environmental regulations, appealing to eco-conscious consumers and industries.

Customization and Personalization: The rising demand for customized and personalized ceramic products is a key trend. Ceramic inks enable manufacturers to produce unique designs tailored to individual customer preferences, which is especially popular in the home decor, architectural, and gift industries.

Expansion in Architectural Applications: The use of ceramic inks in architectural applications is expanding, with an increasing number of projects incorporating custom-printed ceramic tiles and glass panels. This trend is driven by the desire for unique and aesthetically pleasing architectural features.

Growth in the Construction Industry: The construction industry's growth, particularly in emerging markets, is boosting the demand for decorative ceramic tiles and glass. As new buildings and renovation projects proliferate, the need for high-quality ceramic inks for tile decoration also rises.

Technological Integration in Manufacturing: The integration of advanced technologies such as automation and artificial intelligence in the manufacturing process is streamlining the production of ceramic inks. These technologies enhance efficiency, reduce waste, and ensure consistent quality, contributing to market growth.

Increased Focus on Durability and Performance: Manufacturers are focusing on developing ceramic inks with improved durability and performance characteristics, such as higher resistance to UV light, chemicals, and abrasion. These enhancements are crucial for applications in outdoor environments and high-traffic areas.

Artistic and Creative Applications: There is a growing interest in using ceramic inks for artistic and creative purposes. Artists and designers are exploring new possibilities with ceramic inks, leading to innovative applications in art installations, bespoke decor items, and high-end design projects.

Rising Demand in the Automotive Sector: The automotive industry's increasing use of ceramic inks for decorating glass components, such as windshields and windows, is a notable trend. The inks' durability and resistance to environmental factors make them ideal for automotive applications.

Global Urbanization and Lifestyle Changes: Urbanization and changing lifestyle trends are driving the demand for stylish and functional ceramic products. As more people move to urban areas and seek modern living spaces, the demand for decorative and durable ceramic tiles and glass products rises, fueling the ceramic ink market.

Segments:

Based on Product Type:

Functional Inks

Decorative Inks

Based on Printing Technology:

Digital Printing

Analog Printing

Based on Application:

Ceramic Tiles

Residential

Non-Residential

Glass Printing

Food Container Printing

Other Applications

Browse the full report – https://www.credenceresearch.com/report/ceramic-ink-market

Browse our Blog: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/ceramic-ink-market-key-industry-dynamics-analysis-rlqaf

Phone: +91 6232 49 3207

Email: [email protected]

Website: https://www.credenceresearch.com

0 notes

androgynouspatrolblaze · 6 months ago

Text

Navigating Fire Door Regulations: A Comprehensive Guide for Building Owners and Architects

Maximizing Protection and Aesthetics: The Power of Sliding Fire Doors

When it comes to enhancing both safety and style in a space, the installation of Sliding Fire Doors can make a significant impact. These innovative doors not only provide crucial protection in the event of a fire but also offer a sleek and modern design that can elevate the overall aesthetic of any environment.

The Importance of Fire Safety

Fire safety is a critical consideration for any building, whether glass partitioning it be a commercial space or a residential property. In the unfortunate event of a fire, having reliable Sliding Fire Doors in place can help contain the spread of flames and smoke, giving occupants valuable time to evacuate safely.

Enhancing Style with Sliding Fire Doors

One common misconception is that prioritizing safety means sacrificing style. However, Sliding Fire Doors offer a perfect blend of both functionality and aesthetics. Their sleek design and smooth operation add a touch of sophistication to any space, making them an ideal choice for modern interiors.

Customization Options

Sliding Fire Doors are highly customizable, allowing property owners to tailor their appearance to suit their specific preferences. From different finishes to hardware options, there are various ways to personalize these doors while ensuring they meet all necessary fire safety standards.

Professional Installation Services

When considering the installation of Sliding Fire Doors, it is essential to enlist the help of experienced professionals. Companies like Black Steel Doors UK specialize in providing high-quality fire-rated doors and expert installation services, ensuring that every project is completed with precision and care.

In conclusion, Sliding Fire Doors offer a winning combination of safety and style. By investing in these innovative doors, property owners can maximize protection while enhancing the overall look and feel of their space.

0 notes

enigmaticexplorer · 6 months ago

Text

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XX

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 6.1K

24 Relona

A sprout, so pale in its orange it looked white, crested the soil of the pot—a burst of the sun before it began a new day. Sometime between this morning’s watering and this evening’s, the bud decided it was time to experience life outside the comforting coolness of its soil.

Kazi thumbed the little sprout. “Hi, buddy.”

The sprout mushed, its fuzzy bulb tickling, and she slowly retracted her hand, not wanting to accidentally kill it. She watered the soil, mindful to hydrate the sprout without drowning it, and then leaned back on her haunches.

A look through the sunroom’s windows revealed her sister on the wraparound porch. She wanted to show Daria her sprout. Out of anyone, her sister would understand the significance of this moment.

However, Daria was enjoying the comfortable heat of the evening, peeling beans for tonight’s dinner. Matches sat beside her, helping. Based on Daria’s stained cheeks, the demolitions expert was telling her a crude story. Kazi decided not to interrupt. It was more amusing watching her sister’s strained smiles and encouraging nods as Matches laughed at something he said.

Beyond the porch, seated among an elder tree’s roots, Nova and Hound talked. Tree foliage provided ample shade to hide their expressions. Based on the article she found Nova reading yesterday, she assumed he would be working with Hound for the foreseeable future.

A sharp command rang through the cracked-open windows.

“Again,” Fox said.

Wiping at her forehead, Neyti glared at Fox.

“Don’t give me that look.” Fox crossed his arms over his chest. “You can do better—you will do better. Again.”

Huffing her frustration, Neyti faced Cody, lifted her balled fists, and lunged for the man’s hand. One jab with her left hand, a quick feint with the right, and a final punch with the left. Her knuckles collided with Cody’s palm. His smile was soft with encouragement. Neyti looked to Fox.

“Better,” Fox said. He assessed Neyti for a moment and then motioned to the table where Daria and Matches sat. “Get some water.”

With a satisfied nod, Neyti waltzed through the backyard’s ferns, plopping into an open chair and accepting a glass of water from Daria. Another glass went to Cody, who squeezed Daria’s shoulder.

Kazi looked Neyti over once, confirmed the little girl was well, and then returned her attention to Fox. His black shirt clung to his skin, and sweat slicked his curls back. He’d spent the entire afternoon working on his project, the fallen tree finally taking shape.

Its shape bewildered Kazi, though. She didn’t understand why Fox was building a—

“You have a nice set up.”

Kazi flinched, glancing over her shoulder. Court stood beneath the sunroom’s partition, still dressed in the same black jumpsuit the men had found him in. At least it looked tighter and crisper, freshly washed.

“Thank you,” Kazi said, regaining her feet and dusting her hands together. Court regarded her, his head tilted in assessment. Nonplussed, she cleared her throat. “You know, you don’t have to stay inside, if you don’t want to. There’s a lake, and the jungle is full of hiking trails.”

A dismissive nod preceded his approach, and he surveyed those outside. “How often do you work?”

Studying his side-profile, the reddish hue of the setting sun set the whites of his eyes on fire, Kazi hedged, “I work a normal schedule.”

He was silent, unblinking, and she glanced at the elder tree where Nova sat, wondering if Court needed to talk to someone. Needed…help. Then again, he held himself with a stable composure, seemingly collected and unaffected, rather than a man facing a potential mental collapse.

“Are you interested in getting a job?” Kazi asked.

His lips twitched. “We’ll all need one. What do the former commanders do?”

She waved toward the windows. “They work these missions.”

“And their income? Where does their pay come from?”

“Most likely their contact.” Moving toward the game table, she pretended to tidy Wolffe’s puzzle, an attempt to create distance. Maybe she was being rude, too wary, but she couldn’t muster the shame to care. “But I don’t actually know. If you’re interested in joining them, I would talk to them about it. I can get Wolffe—”

“I’ll talk to him later.” Court twisted away from the windows. Those deadened eyes fell on her eyes, sharp and probing. “Wolffe said you work for the government. What do you do?”

“I’m an analyst.” Tension curled in her stomach, uncertain as a fog descending on a harbor. “I track military exports.”

Court didn’t need to know about her private work for the magistrate: the intel she continued to analyze concerning the missing and deserted clones. With the men’s help, Fox’s expertise in slicing especially, the scrubbed and manipulated data had protected their missions. So far.

“You must have a high security clearance.”

“Somewhat.” Kazi shrugged. “The Security Institute was founded less than two years ago. It’s still rudimentary compared to Imperial governances in the Mid and Inner Rims.”

“You work with a band of rogue clones, yet you serve in Imperial forces.” Court took a step in her direction. “Why do they trust you?”

“I may work for the government,” she said slowly, “but that doesn’t mean I support it.”

A twitch overcame Court’s face and he opened his mouth. Soft footfalls interrupted, however, and a moment later, Wolffe appeared. A black work shirt replaced his usual white, the sleeves rolled to his forearms; his usual gray poncho was nestled in the crook of his elbow.

Inclining his head to Court, Wolffe faced her. “We’re going, Ennari.”

Kazi frowned. “Where?”

“Out.” Wolffe extended his hand. “To dinner.”

“Neyti?”

“Daria said she’ll watch her. Cody is making dinner. And Nova’s setting up his telescope for Neyti to use tonight.” A satisfied smirk, similar to the one Neyti had sported a few minutes ago, completed his smug demeanor. “Any other questions?”

Smiling, she placed her hand in his palm. “Where are we going?”

The red sun burnished the wooden flattops of Hollow’s Town, the sky spired with brilliant orange and creeping navy blue.

Kazi and Wolffe wandered the Marketplace’s walkways, the colorful canopies withdrawn to allow the evening sunshine to warm the stalls. Small crowds loitered on the streets. Wolffe, with his hood drawn, blended in well.

He was on edge, though, his tells noticeable only because she had studied him so closely for months. A rigid set to his shoulders. A forced casualness to his stroll. An occasional flex in his fingers, even though they were clasped behind his back.

The Imperial presence was confined to Canopis, at the moment. But Kazi knew, from the blaster strapped to his thigh, Wolffe didn’t trust them to remain in the capital, and he wanted to be prepared. Since he was as obstinate as he was mistrustful, she didn’t suggest they return to the house. Instead, she reached for his hand.

Warm fingers curled around hers, slow and tentative. A thumb smoothed a light circle to the back of her hand.

Their stroll slowed and they rounded a corner.

Strong spices wafted through the air, as palpable as the steam from roasting meat. The crowds here were louder, busier. Kazi leaned into Wolffe, resting her other palm against his bicep. His muscle bunched; his fingers twitched in her hand.

“Neyti spoke to me,” she said. They paused near a stall selling Elucan wine, and Wolffe looked down at her, his eyes widened in surprise. She’d spent the last few days debating whether or not to tell him, but his opinion mattered, and she needed to share it with someone. Someone who understood the importance of this moment without turning it into a lecture or demands for the future. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

“She trusts you,” Wolffe said, eyeing an expensive bottle of white wine. “Has she said anything else?”

“No.” They moved to the next stall. “She was looking at my adventure book when she spoke. That’s how I knew she wanted to go flying the other day. She told me.”

A splinter of darkening sunlight lit Wolffe’s face and the slight curve of his mouth. Her eyes narrowed.

“You have an adventure book?” he asked. A hint of amusement softened his tone.

“Yes.” He huffed a quiet chuckle and she rolled her eyes, fighting the urge to smile. “My mother got it for me when I was young and I filled it with a bunch of photos from my trips at sea.” She paused. “My parents called me their ‘adventurous’ kid. Hence, the name of the book. Real original, I know.”

Ahead, the walkway ended and they exited the Marketplace, aiming for downtown.

Wolffe kept their pace slower, more idle, as if trying to delay their arrival at the restaurant. “You don’t think you’re adventurous anymore?”

Kazi laughed. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It happens when you get older—you lose interest in stuff like that,” she said. “You mature and realize life is different.”

“Would you think differently if you still lived on Ceaia?” Wolffe’s tone was inscrutable, assessing.

“No, and it doesn’t matter.” She gestured to their surroundings. “I live here now.”

“Do you want to live here?”

“What I want doesn’t matter.” His hand stiffened in hers, and she pursed her lips, sighing. “We’re safe, that’s what matters. And Daria’s medicine and healer are here, and getting Neyti adopted is easier—”

“What?” Halting in the middle of the empty walkway, Wolffe stared at her, brows furrowed and mouth parted. “You’re putting Neyti up for adoption?”

Kazi winced, releasing his arm. “It’s…been one of my goals since we first arrived here.”

Bewilderment wrinkled his features as he searched her face, and she gritted her teeth, berating herself for being so careless.

“Her application has been processed,” she said. “Now it’s simply a matter of when a family shows interest.”

It was the wrong thing to say, apparently, because Wolffe straightened, his jaw clenching. “You love that little girl, Ennari.”

“That doesn’t matter.” He started to protest and she cut him off. “It doesn’t. I was never meant to be a mother, and Neyti needs someone who is.”

“Why.” The word was flat, harsh like the press of his lips and the glint in his eyes.

“Because.” Her cheeks warmed and she averted her gaze, shrugging blasely. “I’m not the affectionate, loving type that Neyti needs—that any youngling needs.”

“You’re not…” Wolffe scoffed, his grip around her hand clammy and tight. His face lowered to hers. “Who told you that shit?”

“Wolffe—”

“Who.”

“Stop it.”

The things her mother told her—the things she knew were true—weren’t his concern. And she wasn’t in the mood to humiliate herself in front of him tonight. But Wolffe scowled at her, his demand unwavering.

“You weren’t here those first two months,” Kazi said stiffly. “You didn’t see her. She lost her mother and that relationship isn’t replaceable.”

“I’m not arguing it is,” he hissed. “But she needs a mother—”

“Yeah. She does. And I’m not that woman.”

“You can’t give her up—”

“I’m her caretaker, and I decide what’s best—”

“And if I want to step up?”

“Don’t say that,” she snapped. His nostrils flared and she gritted her teeth harder. “Neyti is my responsibility, and mine only. Not yours.” She swallowed. “Anyway, we haven’t even been together for a month—”

“I’ve cared l—” Wolffe faltered. Working his jaw, he regarded her for a long, stilted minute, and then he shook his head. “Don’t be rash.” He clutched her hand harder. “That’s all I’m asking. Something comes up, we talk about it.”

For a pent breath, she considered him. “Fine.”

Anger still clenched his jaw, and annoyance pinched his mouth, but Kazi refused to cave.

She meant it, what she said. Wolffe might want to fill a role in Neyti’s life, a role that was needed, but his missions were his primary concern. They came first; she had learned that lesson the hard way. And she wouldn’t allow Neyti to form an attachment only to lose another parent. She wouldn’t allow another little girl to lose her papa.

Kazi continued along the walkway, and Wolffe fell in step beside her, their hands still interlaced.

“Please don’t tell the others,” she said after a few paces. “Daria doesn’t know. Neyti doesn’t even know, and I don’t want it to get out. It’s possible nothing ever comes of it.”

A heavy sigh heaved from Wolffe. His thumb continued to circle the back of her palm. An instinct. Or afterthought.

The sun had finally set, the dark blues and grays of a tumultuous sea bathing the horizon.

A group of males, loud and rowdy, strolled toward them. Wolffe tugged her closer and they crossed the street, evening’s shadows casting him as a more imposing figure.

Stilted silence yawned between them, nearly physical in its discomfort.

Surveying the darkening sky, Kazi broke the silence. “Why are your brothers teaching Neyti to spar?”

Wolffe released a low chuckle; some of his tension ebbed away. “We all learned when we were young.”

“Your upbringing was quite different.”

“Learning how to protect yourself is a good skill for anyone to learn.” He gave her a pointed look. “You should learn too. You and Daria.”

“Daria? The one who’s getting weaker and weaker with each passing month?” Her smile lacked mirth, and Wolffe winced, a silent apology in his squeeze of her hand. “I agree it’s a good skill to have. But it’s ultimately pointless. A real soldier will always be able to overpower me.”

“You don’t learn self-defense to win a fight,” Wolffe said. “You learn it so you have a chance to escape and run. To survive.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Frustration roughened his voice, and they paused on the edge of a walkway, waiting for an aircar to pass. “You’re acting too flippant with your life. I don’t like it.”

She sniffed. “I understand what you’re saying. And I think it’s good that you guys are teaching Neyti.”

He observed her through narrowed eyes, as if debating whether to believe her. “Promise me you’ll fight. If it ever comes to it—promise me you’ll survive.”

“Wolffe—”

“Kazi.”

The seriousness in his face, the tightness of his grip, told her he wouldn’t drop this. That he cared about this, and that she owed him a truthful answer.

Holding his gaze, she said, “I promise.”

Signs flickered to life, buttery yellow and warm. People enjoying a meal or drink busied the restaurants and cantinas’ patios.

They walked in silence. While Wolffe’s quiet was contemplative, Kazi was second-guessing their conversation about Neyti.

And if I want to step up?

The words were a kindle to that soft glow within her. Dangerous, if she truly analyzed the situation. But she didn’t, avoiding the glow steadily escaping her control, and instead concentrated on tearing apart the question.

Because, really, he had no business suggesting it. They were friends, and they were trying this thing between them, and he didn’t even realize the hurt he would cause when he—

“Do you feel alive?”

The question yanked her from her thoughts, and she blinked at Wolffe. He was staring straight ahead, the neutrality in his features forcibly apathetic.

“Do you?” Kazi asked curiously.

Rolling his shoulders back, he shrugged. “Growing up, we were told we were soldiers. Nothing more. Nothing less. We were soldiers. That was it.”

They paused outside the restaurant, its sign lucent white, and he faced her, his expression guarded. Vulnerable.

“I’m not convinced I’ve known what it feels like to be alive. Outside of basic instinct to survive. I didn’t know that feeling. Even as a boy,” he said, his voice lowering. Hoarsening. “But being here—seeing my brothers safe, the lot of us doing what we want…” His fingers flexed around hers. His gaze remained guarded, and yet it grew softer. Gentler. “I think I’m starting to.”

“You deserve it,” she said. Because he did, and sometimes, she wasn’t convinced he believed it. “To rest. To put yourself first. To go after what you want. You deserve it all, Wolffe.” The evening’s darkness enveloped his face, soft hands holding him, though the restaurant’s white light sharpened his scar. She brushed a finger across his cheek. Just beneath his scarred eye. “You deserve to live.”

He twisted, his lips grazing her palm. “You do too.”

Her smile was weary, similar to the exhaustion he couldn’t seem to shake. They were both trying.

“Eluca was supposed to be safe,” Kazi muttered.

Setting aside her datapad, she lifted her face to Wolffe. He was hovering behind her, one hand braced on the back of her chair, the other flattened to her desk, while he read over her shoulder.

Both the local news and her private comm line with Fehr and Carinthia lacked information.

Dinner had been a quiet affair. An assortment of sauteed vegetables, steamed rice, and freshly baked bread filled their stomachs; a glass of whiskey and a mug of Elucan chocolate mush further emphasized the ease of the early night. Whatever tension had survived their conversation on the walkways soon winked out, replaced by blue-white stars winking into existence.

Their soft laughs and relaxed demeanors were ripped away, though, when a military vehicle arrived. Stormtroopers leapt from the vehicle. They stormed the cantina across the street.

Within three minutes, it was over. Two bloodied males were dragged away.

Kazi had loosed a breath of relief, grateful the two males were the stormtroopers’ targets. Because the moment the black vehicle rumbled onto the street, she’d feared for Wolffe’s life.

Thought a passerby or patron had reported him.

Sat, trembling, as she tried to determine a plan of action so he could escape.

The dinner revealed one thing: if it came to it, she would sacrifice anyone to keep her family safe.

Leaning back in her seat, Kazi scowled at her ceiling. “Eluca was the safest option compared to other planets. It was never supposed to be like this.”

Gods, she sounded pathetic. Complaintive and whiny, ungrateful. At least they didn’t live in Canopis; at least Hollow’s Town remained relatively safe and free of Imperial oversight.

Wolffe perched himself on the edge of her desk, folding his arms over his chest. He regarded her with a carefully even expression.

“Do you think it’ll get worse?” she asked.

“Can’t say.” He frowned at the files on her ‘pad. “But things can change quick. I know that firsthand.”

She dropped her gaze to the hands wringing in her lap. “I just want to feel safe. And I know how ignorant and unfair that sounds coming from me when you—”

“You deserve to feel safe, Ennari.” A firm steadiness hardened his voice, a mountain weathering the strongest of winds, unmoved. Quietly, Wolffe added, “We all do.”

Deciding it was too late to dwell on the increasing danger of their situation, Kazi started to untie her braids, a necessary distraction from the thoughts whirling inside, and instead, chose to watch Wolffe.

He was studying her room: the gray, folded sheets of her bed and the matching quilt; the bookshelves along the opposite wall housing her adventure book, a cactus from Daria, and a charcoal sketch Neyti had drawn of the ocean; the white curtains tucked aside, revealing the jungle’s rolling hills.

“Your shelves could use some personality,” Wolffe commented.

Judgment underscored his tone, and she frowned. “I didn’t know you’re an interior decorator.”

He threw her a bored look and pushed away from her desk, approaching the shelves. “Why’s your dragon downstairs?”

“She doesn’t match my aesthetic.” At the roll of his eyes, she chuckled, glancing at her closed door. Though her dragon remained downstairs, she swore she could feel its unblinking gaze, observing her in its uncanny way. Sobering, Kazi said, “She’s too much of a reminder of life before.”

Wolffe wandered to her bed. “Before what?”

“Before everything.” Setting aside her hair ties, she combed her fingers through her hair. “Before my father died. Before Daria and I stopped liking each other. Before the Purge. Before all of this.” Her voice had grown colder, bitter, and she cleared her throat. “I tried to get rid of her but I couldn’t. So she sits downstairs. It was a compromise.”

Reassessing her room, as if she was looking through Wolffe’s eyes, Kazi grimaced. Her bedroom was nothing more than utilitarian: bare, clean, tidy. Lifeless. The only sign someone had recently lived here was the lack of dust. Even her cactus could survive without her.

The rustle of dried paper interrupted her musings as Wolffe lifted a seed packet from her nightstand. He arched a brow at her.

Her cheeks warmed. “It was a thoughtful gift.”

“This is trash,” he deadpanned. It was her turn to roll her eyes, and Wolffe shook his head, replacing the seed packet back where it belonged. Another slow survey of her room commenced, and then he straightened. His head angled toward her refresher. “Can I use your shower?”

Kazi blinked, momentarily rendered speechless. It was such a random request. And yet there was something bedded into his words, scrupulously layered, guarded: a question, no, a suggestion.

Perplexed, she gestured to the ‘fresher in acquiescence, and, after a prolonged search of her face, Wolffe disappeared. A few seconds later and the spray of water, a gentle patter, spilled through the cracked door.

Kazi returned her attention to her ‘pad.

Keying into the datafolders Fehr passed along every month or so, she searched for Ceaia.

A foolish idea, really. Ever since her arrival on Eluca, she’d avoided the network’s reports on Ceaia. To her knowledge, they were mere assessments of Imperial presence in the Outer Rim. Simply a means to remain informed. Anyway, she would never return to her home planet, so updates were pointless, a dull fingernail reopening a flesh wound.

But tonight…

The first datafile inside the Ceaian ‘folder presented an overview of the planet: Most of the information detailed the small Imperial force in the capital and the Empire’s disinterest in the planet. Imps bolstered the central government on the eastern continent. Rebellion was nonexistent. Kazi knew all this.

However, the further she read, the more bemused she became.

The rebel network had suggested planet-level analyses of Ceaia’s continents, major cities, and even certain harbors. For some reason, the network was interested in Ceaia.

Chewing the inside of her cheek, Kazi scanned the report closer, but any mentions of the network’s plans were properly redacted. Still, she skimmed the analyses.

Searching…

There were individual files on specific cities and harbors.

She scanned the list.

Familiar names flitted past.

She scrolled further, searching for—

Outlook Harbor.

Her heart stumbled at the familiar name; a cold sweat clammed her palms.

The rebel network had investigated her harbor—a harbor in the northern continent lacking any connection to Imperial accusations and the Purge. Opening Outlook’s file, she read through it.

Sensitive information redacted—information that clearly detailed the network’s plans—Kazi could only theorize the network’s goals. But there was one line that caught her attention. One line, in the Overview section, that demanded her attention.

Empire rumored to abandon shortly.

The sentence replayed in her mind, a broken holofilm repeating over and over.

Because, if the Empire abandoned Ceaia, Outlook Harbor would be safe and maybe—

Shoving away from her desk, Kazi massaged her temples, pacing the length of her room.

It was too late. Things were in motion here, and finding hope within a rumor, a fucking rumor, was asinine.

She had chosen to run, and Ceaia was in the past, and she couldn’t dwell on it any longer. She wouldn’t.

A sudden quiet seeped into her room; a creak told her that Wolffe had exited the shower, and she stilled.

Everything within her went silent.

A distraction, she wanted a distraction. No, she wanted comfort: She was still running, and she was tired, and her soul was so sore, and she wanted to pause for just a moment to feel something.

Alive, she wanted to feel alive, and she wanted to feel it with Wolffe.

Fingers trembling, Kazi removed her sweater, untied her trousers, tossed her clothes and underthings into her hamper. She moved across the bedroom; the resolved beat of her heart, steady, unflappable, complimented her soft rap on the ‘fresher door.

Steam warmed her face, licked her bare skin.

“You’re late.” One of her white towels covered Wolffe’s lower half—tiny around his waist—and he looked down at her, amusement breaking through his practiced composure.

“You showered too fast,” Kazi said.

“Yeah.” His hands bracketed her jaw; his face lowered to hers. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

Soft lips were on hers, and Kazi ran her hands up his chest, still damp, delectably warm, wrapping her arms around his neck. Wolffe groaned against her mouth. Tangled his fingers in her hair. Gripped her waist and stroked her spine.

The heat of his hand to her bare skin, the softness of his touches compared to the desperation in his kiss, the way he held her and touched her, sparked her body to life. Need throbbed in her clit, and gods, she needed something—needed him.

Mouthing beneath her jawline, Wolffe rasped, “Tell me what you want.”

Her thighs hit her bed and she didn’t resist as Wolffe lowered her. As his forearms surrounded her head and his toweled lower half settled between her legs.

“To feel something,” Kazi said. Water dewed his curls and she rested a palm against his chest, basked in the hard, rapid beat of his heart.

He leaned back, just slightly, and let his gaze wander the length of her body. His pupils dilated, the dark brown of his eye and silver of his cybernetic giving way to black. A shiver breathed down her spine, tightened in her nipples, and she could only lie there, appreciating the way he took her in, the same way she had seen him study the bioluminescent flora during their night swims: admiring.

One moment Wolffe was perusing her body, and the next, his mouth was on her breast.

Gasping, Kazi arched into him, clinging to his bicep. His mouth was hot and wet to her sensitive skin, and she ground her hips against him, desperate for any stimulation. Wolffe choked at the contact. His teeth grazed her nipple and—

“Oh gods,” she whimpered.

“This?” Wolffe flattened his tongue along the underside of her breast and licked to her nipple. “This good with you?”

She released a shaky exhale. “Yes.”

A large hand cupped her breast, and a calloused thumb scraped her nipple. She started to tremble. The clench in her cunt was hard, demanding, and she could only stare at her ceiling, trying to quiet her breathing, calm the racing beat of her heart.

And, fuck, she thought she might actually come from this—from him caressing her nipples, biting gently into her breasts. Her cunt fluttered at a particular scrape of his thumb, and she bit back a whimper.

A dazed look darkened his features as Wolffe focused on her breasts. She didn’t understand the appeal: Her breasts were small, small enough his hands easily engulfed them, and yet he seemed unable to look away. Unwilling to abandon them as he dragged a long lick across her nipple and sucked on it.

Panting, she gripped his shoulder, dug her fingernails into his skin, wavering between pushing him away because the sensation was overstimulating, or holding him closer, giving into the pleasure humming through her nerves and tightening her insides.

A finger brushed through her labia and she tensed, glancing between their bodies. Wolffe circled his finger around her cunt. Light, unhurried circles.

“This?” Wolffe asked. His eyes were on hers, and the dark brown swirled, drunken with desire. “This good with you?”

“No sex,” she whispered hoarsely. Her labia were so sensitive from his circling, and she swallowed a rising moan. “I can’t—”

“I understand.” Wolffe tapped her cunt and she could feel her arousal slickening him. “But this? Can I fuck you with my fingers?”

“Yes.”

“What about my tongue?” He licked along her breast again, nipping at her nipple. She shuddered beneath him. “Can I taste you?”

“Wolffe.” Need buzzed beneath her skin, burned in her blood, and she was so fucking sensitive, so desperate for any touch between her legs or her nipples, but he needed to know, first: “I take so long—”

“Good.” He removed his hand, and her hips jerked their protest, her legs trembling with restraint. Satisfaction carved a smile on his face. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time, Kazi. Take your time. I’ll enjoy it.”

Before she could dissuade him, Wolffe was kneeling between her thighs, and he was propping one of her legs on his shoulder; and all she could do was watch, her nipples tingling and her clit aching, shaking with want as Wolffe breathed her in. As he flattened the head of his tongue to her cunt. He licked her.

Pleasure swelled deep inside her and her head fell back. Another slow lick followed and Wolffe groaned against her. The noise was low, guttural, and she gasped, bucking against his mouth. His hands flexed around her thighs, holding her open, restraining her against the bed.

Sweat thickened the heat beneath her skin and she panted harder; her blood ran fast and hot. Wolffe traced her labia, the tip of his tongue so light it tickled, and then he was sucking her clit, his pleased groans rumbling against her.

Breathy, uncontrollable moans hissed between her teeth. A finger circled her cunt once. Twice. It pushed into her and her hips jerked.

“Wolffe.” Kazi lifted her hips, a silent demand for more, but Wolffe kept his strokes languid, his finger curling upwards and massaging such a sensitive spot she fisted her sheets harder and groaned.

A second finger slid inside, and she whimpered at the pressure, at the stretch of his fingers. It was so much; more than her own fingers.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Wolffe hissed, stilling his fingers inside her. His eyes snapped to her face. “Am I hurting you?”

Breathing through her nose, she shook her head, blinking dazedly at the ceiling. “It’s just…a lot.”

Wet heat encased her clit the moment Wolffe’s two fingers massaged her upper wall. Massaged a spot that had her panting “More, please more” and her hips gyrating against his face.

Tightness coiled in her lower stomach, and the muscles in her legs bunched. She was shaking; her fingers were curled desperately in her sheets. Her breathy exhales were moans, and the pressure inside her bordered pain.

Wolffe sucked on her clit harder; he curled his fingers and rubbed that spot over and over and over. All of her tightened, and her legs stiffened, and she felt as fragile as thin glass—

She shattered.

Honeyed pleasure oozed through her blood, seeping into the cracks of her coiled muscles and soothing them. She was trembling, and she couldn’t move, left to blink at her ceiling as a wet tongue lapped at her, its strokes long, slow.

A sharp flare in her labia made her pull away. Wolffe gripped her thighs harder, his scowl displeased, but at her sharp look, he released her, gently lowering her leg from his shoulder.

A little tired, a little sore, Kazi lowered herself to the floor, leaned into Wolffe, and kissed him. He grunted against her mouth, seemingly surprised, but she didn’t bother to stop, pressing lackadaisical kisses to his jaw. Licking the muscled length of his neck. Basking in the way he held her weight as he panted against her ear.

It took her too long to realize he was fisting himself. Fisting and stroking his cock. She leaned back to watch him, beads of cum glistening his tip. It took her even longer to realize the wetness he was using to stroke himself was her own arousal—her own release. Wolffe met her gaze, his eyelids hooded.

Grazing her palm along his thigh, the muscles shivered beneath her touch, Kazi smiled, cupping his balls and squeezing.

“Fuck.” Wolffe’s forehead fell to her shoulder. His breaths grew ragged, pained.

“Show me,” she said, massaging his balls. “Show me how you like it.”

Roughly, he guided her hand to his base and fisted himself; the heat of his cock burned and her eyes widened in surprise. He tightened her grip and stroked. A groan warmed her neck.

“That’s it,” Wolffe rasped, using her hand to stroke himself faster. Harder. “Fuck, that’s it.”

Bracing a palm on the bed behind her, Wolffe hissed between his teeth, his hips jerking uncontrollably.

Kazi traced light, teasing circles to his inner thigh, kissed behind his ear and nipped at his earlobe. Wolffe choked. His body stilled. He bit into her shoulder, and then he was spilling onto their hands, onto his stomach. He rutted into her hand, his semen hot and thick, his moans low and hoarse.

As his thrusts eased and then stopped, Wolffe released her, his fingers trembling as they ran along her ribcage, like he was reassuring himself she was here. She was with him. Indolent kisses warmed her shoulder, soon followed by gentle licks to the mark he must have left.

Eventually they cleaned themselves and returned to her bed, still naked: soft brushes of fingers to skin, languid kisses to knotted muscles. At one point, Kazi laid atop Wolffe, her cheek nestled to his chest, his hands slowly tracing the knots of her spine.

“This,” he murmured, grazing the center of her back, “I’ve been thinking about.”

Trailing a finger along his own scars, she smiled. The line-drawn dragon tattoo was tiny and simple, her sole tattoo.

“Any significance?” he asked.

“I got it as a reminder,” she said. “That the only person whose got my back is myself.”

Pensive silence enveloped Wolffe as he continued stroking her spine, like he was counting each dent. Soon, though, those wandering hands shifted to her hips, her ass, her ribcage. Curious, lackadaisical touches ensued. Kazi wasn’t any better: feeling his scars, the tightness in his muscles, the fat toning his body.

They were clay, formed from stardust and molded into individuals: to be appreciated, revered.

Later, the moons casting her bedroom in a bluish tinge, Kazi scanned Wolffe’s side-profile.

“You can smell my soap? From feet away?” she said, disbelievingly. “Even after a couple of hours?”

“Yeah. And when I’m close to you, like this”—he gestured between their bodies—“I can smell you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I can smell when you’re bleeding.” A nonchalant shrug succeeded her appalled blink. “And when you’re aroused.”

“No, you can’t,” she whispered.

“I can.” Amusement was woven into his frankness. “We were engineered to be exceptional.”

“Huh. I don’t know if I’m impressed or mortified,” she said. Wolffe chuckled, and she smiled, brushing her nose to his shoulder. “So, enhanced smell, sight, and hearing. What about taste?”

A devious glint darkened his eyes, and he edged closer, playing with a strand of her hair.

“You taste”—a wet tongue licked the length of her throat and Kazi gasped; Wolffe pulled back—“divine.”

Laughing, she tried to shove him away, but he resisted, grinning down at her.

“Divine?” she said, scoffing. “All you tasted was my body oil.”

“I was talking about your cunt,” he drawled, smirking at her exasperated shake of her head. Returning his face to her neck, he kissed just beneath her jaw and murmured, so quietly she wasn’t sure she was meant to hear it, “I won’t ever get enough of you.”

Minutes later, with Wolffe sucking on her collarbone in a way she knew he had no intention of stopping anytime soon, Kazi glanced at the chrono on her nightstand. She grimaced.

“Wolffe.” He grunted his acknowledgement. “I’m tired.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m gonna go to sleep.”

He lifted his head. “You kicking me out, Ennari?”

A tiny, glowing fist pounded against her chest but she ignored it. If she asked him to stay, then she would grow accustomed to his presence. Rely on it. On him. And what if…

Rubbing her chest, she offered him an apologetic wince. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

Understanding gentled his expression, and he inclined his head, reaching for his trousers, forgoing his long-sleeve.

At her door, Kazi pressed a swift kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for dinner and for…”

“The orgasm?” he supplied.

“Good night,” she said, unable to stifle her smile.

Amusement crinkled his eyes and he tapped the underside of her chin. “Sleep well, Kazi.”

Masterlist | A Muse | Chapter 21

A/N: To see how I imagine Wolffe going down on Kazi, check out this artwork (18+/nsfw). If you take a look, please show love to the artist by reblogging. The artist deserves it. The artwork has no relation to Star Wars, but I stumbled across it one day and it reminded me of the scene in this chapter. Please enjoy. (Again, if you view it, please reblog it. Liking a post on Tumblr without reblogging does nothing to support the artist.)

#I Yearn and so I Fear #commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe #oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe x ofc #commander wolffe fanfiction #commander wolffe fan fiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars fan fiction

19 notes · View notes