#bay to baubles

[featherlyfriends]

Christmas birds are on the shelves! (Now with accessories! lol)

[magicalbats]

Fantasies Play Out

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 18.921

Warnings: aphrodisiacs, pining & yearning, pathetic soggy men. femdom, overstimulation, handjobs, PIV, cowgirl position, dacryphilia, rimming, anal fingering, prostate massage, edging & orgasm denial

A/N: Alright, here's my longest comm yet. I'm so, so happy the commissioner gave me permission to post this because I simply MUST continue to spread my femdom agenda, and what better candidate exists for tribute than Kaveh? lol This was written using one of the lovely @tearsofcalamity's OC's, her name is Jeanne and she's ... quite the woman, haha. If you're anything like me you shouldn't have any problem at all self inserting with the text left as is so ... please enjoy! ❤️

⭐

Peering sullenly into his open wallet, Kaveh breathes out a single lamentable sigh over how much lighter it now was. Practically empty by all accounts, and what little mora he did have left would go very quickly. This he knew a little too well. 

He was struggling. No ifs, ands or buts about that. Between trying to stay caught up on the rent and his considerable debt payments (which hardly even put a dent in the total sum he owed to the renowned Lord Sangemah Bay) as well as the quite necessary bottles of wine he purchased for himself at the taverns and the shops, it was all going to be gone again in frustratingly quick order. And he’d only just returned from his most recent job out in the arid desert too. What a shame. 

It couldn’t be helped though. He’d needed these components for Mehrak and there wasn’t any getting around the costly price tag that came with them when one was working with a piece of complicated machinery as old and mysterious as his little helper was. He couldn’t exactly begrudge her for that. Mehrak may have been a costly sinkhole, an extra expense he hadn’t needed, but she was also an exceptionally good assistant. And, well. Perhaps she also helped chase away some of the isolated loneliness he’d felt closing in around him since he’d lost everything he’d worked so hard for, but there was no sense in dwelling unnecessarily on that. 

Mournfully clasping the purse shut and tucking it away into the safety of his pocket, Kaveh says to the ironworks shopkeep, “Thank you, Rahid. I appreciate you always keeping these bits and baubles on hand for me.” 

Because of course Mehrak needed parts of a very specific dimension that weren’t found anywhere else in modern Sumeru so they needed to be custom made. A costly sinkhole indeed. 

Sitting behind the counter, the elderly man sends him what can only be a sympathetic look from under the bushy, dusted gray droop of his eyebrows. He was happy to make the petite screws and nuts, and odd shaped bolts Kaveh needed since it kept food on his family table but evidently he wasn’t without his scruples. He’d certainly been around long enough to recognize when someone was limping steadily towards his last leg, yet he could only discount his wares so much without giving them away for free.

His sympathy just makes the blond’s stomach flip in on itself though, and he quickly busies himself with gathering up the handful of metal pieces laid out between them on the counter of the small shop. Pity was the very last thing he needed right now. 

“You should take it easy, old friend. You’ve been working an awful lot lately.” Rahid says in his usual low rumble, his voice permanently raspy after a lifetime spent working the forges, breathing in all the hot steam and iron smoke of his craft. 

“Ah, thank you but I’m afraid I don’t have any time for that at the moment. Someone is always in need of an architect, aren’t they? Busy, busy, busy.” Kaveh tries for nonchalant, tries to laugh it off like it’s no big deal as he slips Mehrak’s new screws into his other pocket where they wouldn’t stab him the next time he reaches for his wallet, but Rahid hardly seems convinced. 

In fact, the way he stares at him over the counter would seem to suggest that he could smell bullshit from a mile away, and he wasn’t impressed with Kaveh’s attempt at deflection. 

His deliberately casual laughter quickly morphs into nervous chuckling. “Hey, now. What’s with that look, huh?” 

Rahid narrows his eyes as if he wanted to give Kaveh a right and proper tongue lashing but says instead, “Well, as true as that may be - and I don’t doubt that it is given the quality of your work - you should still make some time for yourself. Take it from an old coot like me. You’re still young and capable. Don’t get so focused on your livelihood that you forget to live a little. You’ll regret it when you get to be my age. Surely there are some girls around the city who have caught your eye that you’d like to get to know?” 

Well, there was one, but she wasn’t from the city, or even Sumeru for that matter. 

She also wasn’t what Kaveh would call a girl either. 

Thoughts drifting idly to Jeanne only to inevitably take up camp there, Kaveh decides that she’s all woman and what a woman she was. 

Fontainian by birth and blood, she was an enforcement officer of the Maison Gardiennage who came to Sumeru on business with some amount of regularity. What that entailed was more often than not tracking down scoundrels that thought escaping to the opposite shore of the vast sea would save them from her wrath, or mora hungry merchants with a penchant for trouble and a bit too much free time on their hands. 

They’d happened to run into each other during one such incident involving a Fontaine trader who was underreporting his earnings to avoid paying all the taxes he owed. Having been in the wrong place at the right time, Kaveh, young and just as naive as he was now, had very nearly gotten duped out of a month's worth of pay by the shady businessman. But then Jeanne suddenly appeared like the hero in a storybook to interrupt the transaction before it was too late, saving him from what, in retrospect, had clearly been a scam. She’d made quick work of the lout and the two of them had become fast friends after that. Even now it struck Kaveh as being curiously fateful, that initial encounter. Like he was some hapless damsel in distress and Jeanne the noble chevalier of justice. 

But that was about where the fanciful tale ended. Years later they were still just friends despite Kaveh’s occasionally wistful thoughts to the contrary of someday being more and it’s not as if anyone could really fault him for that. 

Jeanne wasn't only pretty, she was downright stunning. And not in spite of the bisecting scars that ran across her face but because of them. He’d never seen someone quite so beautiful or captivating, and he more than anyone else had an eye for that sort of thing. There were very few in this world who understood the concept of aesthetic objectivity quite like he did, especially when others were much too focused on their own predefined subjective tastes to look past that. In many ways, Jeanne was the kind of woman he could see himself wanting to spend the rest of his life with. 

Unfortunately for him, she was unflappable and largely oblivious to the puppy faced looks of wanting he’d sometimes catch himself leveling at her, especially when they were drinking together. She always seemed to think it was just the wine talking, influencing his behavior and making him more needy (and whiny) than he normally was. Of course she wasn’t exactly wrong about that, but it was beside the point. While Kaveh undoubtedly appreciated her willingness to humor him in her own curious way during such moments, it didn’t exactly do much to soothe the yearning in his heart. More than anything he wanted Jeanne to take him seriously, but it looked like that was never going to happen. 

He's so caught up in these spiraling thoughts that he doesn’t even realize he’s letting out another groaning, long suffering sigh until Rahid chuckles a knowing sound in return. 

“That bad, eh?” 

Kaveh snaps his attention up, surprised at his own slip. “What? No. Nothing’s bad. Everything’s great, in fact.” 

The aging ironworker pins him with a critical, wisened look that seems to speak volumes. Clearly there would be no fooling a man nearly triple his age who’s been around long enough to have already seen and done it all, but that doesn’t exactly make Kaveh feel any better about being so damn transparent. 

“I’m afraid there’s no hiding it, boy. You can lie to yourself if you like but there’ll be no pulling one over on this old dog. I’ve heard that kind of sigh before. You’ve got a little sweetheart, don’t you?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He huffs, fluster quickly creeping up on him like a potent, thrumming buzz. “She’s not little. Th — I mean. I mean she wouldn’t be, if there was someone like that. But there’s not. I don’t have the time–“

“Alright, alright,” Rahid mercifully cuts off his floundering with a wave of his wrinkled hand. “I get it. There isn’t a girl you’re soft for.” 

“A woman.” Kaveh can’t help but correct him even when he knows he’s only digging his own grave deeper still. 

“Yes, of course. But if there was … what would be stopping you from courting the young lady? Surely you don’t lack for confidence? A handsome and successful architect such as yourself should have no problem getting anyone at all you set your sights on.” 

The blond hesitates, opening his mouth and then closing it again in favor of chewing on his bottom lip instead. He was tempted, oh, he was very tempted to lay it all bare. It’s not like he had anyone else to confide in about this sort of thing without running the risk of being laughed right out of the room. Or worse, stared at in contemptible silence and wordless judgment by the likes of that blasted Al-Haitham. He’d sooner take all his secrets to the afterlife before ever trying to have a discussion like this with the scribe. 

But Rahid was an old friend whom Kaveh has known for many years now and a decidedly trustworthy individual. He’d never sold him faulty parts or tried to price gouge him, hadn’t even asked what he needed these peculiar components for like many others might have. If there was anyone who could be trusted with this information it was probably him. 

Cautiously, Kaveh sends him a slow look of consideration. “Hypothetically speaking?” 

The old man nods in agreement. “Aye. Hypothetically.” 

“Well … if there were someone — and do keep in mind that this is purely speculative conjecture — if there were someone like that and they genuinely didn’t seem to realize I wanted to pursue them, what else could I possibly do to get my feelings across? Especially if they don’t even live here and I only get to see them on occasion …” 

Rahid lifts his brows in surprise. “She’s not from Sumeru?” 

“Hypothetically!” 

“Hmm. Well, I can see how that might cause you some trouble then. Trying to make a long distance relationship work is always hard. But, tell me boy, have you actually told her what you’ve just told me?” 

“I — I have, just … not in quite so many words, I guess.” Feeling his cheeks grow hot at the unbidden memory of grumbling out a half baked attempt to flirt with her the last time Jeanne had been in town, Kaveh drops his gaze and anxiously shifts from one foot to the other. It hadn’t worked, of course. He’d been so drunk and vibrating with liquid courage that he couldn’t even remember what exactly he’d said to her. All he knew with any certainty was that she’d softly tutted at him that he’d had enough for one night before wandering off to fetch him a glass of water. The lingering embarrassment was almost enough to make him feel faint. 

But at Rahid’s pressing sound of encouragement, Kaveh jumps at the chance and recounts the whole sorry tale to him in an impulsive rush that comes pouring from his mouth, unable to stop it even if he’d wanted to. He tells the old man everything; how they met, how simultaneously wonderful and imposing Jeanne could be at the same time and yet how oblivious she still seemed regarding his feelings. He even lamented, ad nauseum, how she never lost her composure while they were drinking long into the night together and how he couldn’t figure out how to crack her shell because of it. 

Eyes brightening at that last bit, Rahid abruptly leans forward against the rickety counter as if in great interest. “That right there sounds like your chance, boy. If she won’t hear you out sober, then you should do it when her guard is down. Everyone is more open to suggestions when they’ve got alcohol in them.” 

“But that’s the problem. No matter how much she drinks, she never lets her guard down. I don’t exactly consider myself a lightweight but she’s got the tolerance of a bear!”

“I see.” Murmuring thoughtfully, Rahid leans back to cross his arms in consideration. It’s clear he’s pondering over something with all the appropriate weight and gravitas the situation calls for. But he reaches his conclusion surprisingly quickly — much more quickly than Kaveh could ever make up his mind — and he stands with a soft scrape of his stool against the shop's floorboards. “Give me a moment. I think I may have something that could help you.” 

Blinking owlishly, Kaveh tracks his steps over to a stout cabinet pushed up against the side wall where he slides open one of the drawers with a dull jostle. 

“What do you mean? Don’t tell me you’ve got some hundred year old snake wine waiting on standby for just such an occasion or something?” 

“Ehh, not quite. But this should do just as well, if not better. Here we are.” Pulling out something that remains unseen in his blocky fist, Rahid closes the drawer back up and returns to the counter. Kaveh isn’t quite sure what to expect, but the petite glass vial he holds out to him is somehow the very last thing he could have guessed. There’s a faintly pinkish liquid inside that sloshes against the interior at the slightest shift and, squinting, Kaveh leans closer to get a better look. 

“What is that, some sort of alchemical potion?” 

“You’re not wrong, but you’re not exactly right either. Just take it. Trust me. You’ll be grateful you did the next time this young lady is in Sumeru. A few drops of this in her drink will have her, uh, loosening up quite a bit and you’ll have your chance to talk to her as much as you want.”

Kaveh shoots him a plainly horrified glance. “Are you telling me to drug her? She’ll kill me, Rahid, have you lost your mind?” 

“Archons above, this isn’t going to incapacitate her or nothing like that. Relax. My wife and I use this stuff to get in the mood with one another in our old age, that’s all. It just helps us with the warm up, if you get what I’m saying.” 

The blond offers a soft sound of enlightenment as if he understood perfectly now but, given the way Rahid critically eyes him, it’s clear the older man isn’t entirely convinced he does. 

For better or worse Kaveh is much too preoccupied with staring at the small vial in rapt fascination to notice though, and his hands idly clench into greedy fists where they’re braced against the counter. Regardless of his understanding or not, there was no denying the wisdom in Rahid’s suggestion. If Jeanne wouldn’t allow herself to drop her walls naturally then giving her a little nudge in the right direction was just the logical next step, wasn’t it? He was always much more loose lipped with a few drinks in him so if he could coax her into being the same … 

This really might be the thing that would finally tip the scales in his favor where the Fontanian woman was concerned. 

“How … how much would you want for that?” He finally brings himself to ask. 

“Nothing, old friend.”  The soft note of sympathy in his voice is clear as day, and it brings Kaveh’s attention up with a snap. Ignoring his hurried protests, Rahid reaches across the counter and bullies the glass bottle into his fumbling hands, adamantly refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer. “Like I said, just take it. You need it more than I do, don’t you boy? My wife and I can get by without. Besides, it sounds like your situation is much more dire anyway. Just promise me you’ll take a break from working so much and put it to good use, eh?” 

Gently cradling the vial in his palms like it was some sort of precious, highly fragile artifact, Kaveh gropes for something to say. He couldn’t very well let it slip that he didn’t have much choice and reveal just how far from grace he’d fallen in the process, not without permanently staining his reputation as a capable and respected graduate of the Akademiya. 

But the greater meaning behind this gesture is not lost on him. Not by a long shot, and he finally settles on, “Thank you, Rahid. A thousand times, thank you. I hope you know how much I appreciate this.” 

Dismissing him with a brief wave of his hand, the old man quickly turns away, giving him his back. “Not another word about it, Kaveh. Now get out of here. Before I change my mind.” Then, like an afterthought, he adds, “I’ll make sure to have more of those components on hand for the next time you need them. Take care of yourself out there.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The little bell over the door chimes a merry sound as he steps out into the street and the humidity dense, year-long heat of Sumeru. The city is a constant buzz of noise and bustling activity, myriad smells from nearby cafes and vendors, but Kaveh hardly notices any of it while he makes his way down the road. His attention is all for the petite vial in his hand, so slight yet monumentally heavy against his palm. 

It was strange to think that something this small and seemingly benign could potentially be the answer to at least one of the many problems in his life. But as they say, matters of the heart are some of the most significant and challenging one can face, and he was inclined to agree. 

Financial problems could be parsed and sorted out in due time. Hell, even his living arrangements seemed stable enough for him not to have to worry about it too much at the current moment. Al-Haitham, for all of his bad attitude and unreasonable nature, seemed perfectly content with the way things were, even if Kaveh did sometimes suspect he’d only reached out a hand to lorde it over his head. Did that really mean it was okay for him to be expending this sort of energy on the issue of Jeanne rather than any of his other troubles though? 

“Well,” He murmurs softly under his breath, consideringly turning the bottle this way and that to watch how the rosy liquid inside reflects in the sunlight. “There’s no telling when I’ll even get to see her again so I think this should be fine. At least I’m prepared now.” 

Which was more than could be said before that exchange with Rahid. He’d have to remember to thank him properly for it later when he was back on his feet again, especially if the mysterious concoction ended up working a veritable miracle. Hopefully that wouldn’t be too far out in the future.  

Moreover though, the implication of what he was holding in his hand was a bit too tempting for him to think any better of it or reconsider his ready acceptance of this gift. Rahid had only said it would loosen her up but what exactly did that entail? He’d never seen her lose her composure before so Kaveh had no idea what that might look like. Would a truly inebriated Jeanne be clingy and soft with him? Prone to whining, the way he sometimes was? Or perhaps she would allow herself to laugh more openly, more freely without her self imposed walls there holding her back. 

The thought alone makes him huff a quiet laugh as he makes the turn into the packed market square, intending to cut through to get home a little quicker. “Yeah right, maybe when shroomboars sprout wings and fly. That would be awfully cute though …” 

And if her lips were loosened enough to coax a long anticipated yet never realized confession out of her? All the better then. She may not have taken him or any of his prior attempts at flirting seriously but surely she wouldn’t discredit her own actions once everything was said and done, right? 

Feeling oddly optimistic about the situation, Kaveh lifts his head to pay attention to where he’s going only to damn near drop the bottle in surprise when his eyes immediately alight upon a tall figure. The height as much as the manner of dress makes her stand out in the crowd, a feathered cap and a heavy coat worn over the shoulders that are at complete odds with the common attire. The burgundy red hair is what truly strikes a familiar note of wanting in his heart though, and he comes to an abrupt, lurching halt to stare at her in disbelief. 

She hasn’t noticed him just yet, only halfway through the motion of turning away from the owner of the shawarma stall she’d stopped at, but it didn’t really matter. He still recognized her on such an intrinsic, bone deep level that a shock of static electricity promptly surges through his entire body to set him abuzz from head to toe. Mouth going drier than the desert plains, he openly gapes at her like a beached fish. 

She notices him standing there another heartbeat later and, blinking at him in her closest approximation of startlement, Jeanne moves to face him. “Oh, what a coincidence. I was just on my way to pay you a visit. How have you been?” 

Kaveh fumbles desperately for something intelligent to say, coming up decidedly empty handed. It was like just the sight of her had short circuited his brain so beyond repair that no amount of trying to kick start it back into gear was working. There was simply no way, no way she’d just so happened to appear before him like this though. Was someone playing a cruel joke on him? Or had he finally cracked under the building pressure piling up around him and he was now hallucinating the singular object of his desires? 

But the longer he goes without responding the more her usually stoic expression pinches in vague concern, and he finally has to force himself to clear his throat with a rough cough so he can speak. “I - I’m fine. Good. Better than ever, in fact. What about you? I wasn’t … I didn’t expect to run into you like this.” 

Her suspicions evidently alleviated, Jeanne allows her expression to fall back to her usual neutral mask again. “I'm well. I thought about sending you a letter of correspondence prior to my arrival but I figured a surprise would do just as well. It’s not often I get the chance to drop in unexpectedly like this, after all. And for the better, it seems. Were you just on your way home?” 

“Oh, yes, I was just …” Kaveh trails off when a cold note of terror races down his spine. She didn’t yet know he’d lost everything. All of his furniture, his house, his beautifully maintained garden on the veranda that now belonged to someone else who’d no doubt swooped in like a vulture to buy up the gorgeous property he’d had no choice but to sell. He didn’t have a home to go back to unless you counted Al-Haitham’s largely minimal space and there wasn’t a god strong enough in this world or any other that could make him take her there. Even if she had sent him a letter there was a very real chance he never would have gotten it. 

“Kaveh?” Jeanne’s voice breaks through the muddled mess in his head as abruptly as if she’d sucker punched him, and he snaps out of it with a jolt. “Are you quite alright? You look a little pale to me.” 

“I’m fine!” He insists, a bit more loudly than he’d intended, only to grimace when she narrows her eyes again with renewed suspicion. “Sorry, sorry. I promise I’m fine, honest.” He quickly tries again, much more softly this time. “I just got back from a job out near Aaru Village, that’s all. I guess I’m still feeling a bit fatigued but it shouldn’t be anything a glass or two of wine won’t fix, haha… Come on. What do you say? For old times’ sake?”  

At his nervous attempt at laughter, Jeanne breathes out a quiet sigh and shakes her head. “Wine isn’t the solution to all of life’s problems, Kaveh. Haven’t I told you that before?” 

“Well, you’re not wrong of course, but in this case it most certainly is. You’ll see. Why don’t we just go down to Lambad’s for a drink? You’ve already got a snack to go with it.” 

Kaveh gestures towards the single serving of shawarma clasped in her hand and, as if she’d forgotten she was even holding it, Jeanne contemplatively glances down at the shishkabob skewer. Taking his chance while she’s not looking, he covertly slides the little vial into his pocket and safely out of sight before she can notice it. He hadn’t quite gotten so far as figuring out how he was going to slip a few drops of the mysterious substance into whatever she was drinking but thankfully she wouldn’t have reason to question him about it just yet. That solved at least one of the many problems her sudden appearance had presented. 

Now he only needed to stall her long enough to decide what he was going to tell her regarding his living situation. One issue at a time here. 

“I suppose I could do with a drink.” She says, bringing her attention back up just as he’s withdrawing his now empty hand from his pocket. “But you need to hydrate yourself before anything else if you’re feeling unwell after your travels. Promise me you’ll make sure to drink some water when we get there?” 

“Deal.” He gratefully blurts even as his heart gives a dully subdued flutter inside his chest. Jeanne, feared enforcer of Fontaine and scourge of all wrongdoers, worried about him? Kaveh would’ve been tempted to giggle over it like a schoolgirl had he not been so weak in the knees with relief. As long as he could keep her distracted enough that she didn’t start asking any prying questions, there was a very real chance he could still salvage this. 

Nodding once to indicate that the decision has been made, Jeanne leans down as if to grab the stately, heavy looking luggage at her feet. But even in his frazzled state Kaveh is still quick to jump into action and he lunges forward, snatching it up off the ground before she can. He falters though at the weight, a small grunt leaving him when he encounters more resistance than he’d anticipated. He quickly recovers though and bounces upright again with a victorious grin aimed at her even as his arm threatens to buckle under the weight of his new burden.  

Not looking particularly amused, she levels him with a frown. “You needn’t concern yourself with that, Kaveh. I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own suitcase, seeing as I’ve been doing just that up until now.” 

“I know that but please, I insist. Isn’t this what they call chivalry back in Fontaine? I’m just making sure you feel at home, that’s all.”

She tries to fight it but a brief, rueful smile still manages to grace her mouth. It’s as beautiful as it is fleeting, and Kaveh has to work very hard to keep his free hand from coming up to touch at the spot over his chest where his heartbeat is pounding out a staccato rhythm. He really did have it bad. Not that that comes as a surprise when he’d already known full well but there was something reassuring in having such a tangible confirmation that his feelings for her haven’t changed or lessened one bit since the last time they’d met for a meal and drinks. 

It fills him with a fresh surge of hope for the prospects of this unexpected chance encounter as they start to make their way down the road together. Still, though, he can’t shake the feeling that something seemed a bit unusual about her demeanor this time. Far be it that he was complaining but Jeanne wasn’t typically in the habit of being so laid back or relaxed, and that makes him shoot her a curious look. Her posture was as proud as ever yet seemingly less severe in the set of her shoulders and the sure sway of her hips. Most anyone else probably wouldn’t have caught on that anything at all was different but he certainly had. 

“You must have only just gotten here if you haven’t even dropped off your luggage yet. Talk about good timing. And forgive me for being blunt but you seem to be in a good mood today. What kind of job are you here for this time?” 

Another small smile pulls at her mouth, but this time it doesn’t immediately disappear. “There is no job. I’m on vacation. Lucky me, right?” 

Kaveh’s lips slowly part. She’d been given holiday from her obligations within the Gardiennage and she’d decided to spend that time in Sumeru? With him? He almost doesn’t believe his own ears even as he blurts, “Oh, that’s wonderful! You’re always working so hard, you’ve certainly earned yourself a break by now. But … you could have gone anywhere, right? Why here?” 

Jeanne sends him a lingering glance that he can’t decipher quickly enough before she turns her attention forward again with a quiet sniff. “Why not? I like it in Sumeru, and it’s not a very long trip. I’m familiar enough with the roads and the people that it just seemed like the logical conclusion.” 

“Ah, right. The old stomping grounds, eh?” He laughs, trying to cover up the distant note of disappointment that creeps in. Of course she wouldn’t choose to come here for him, specifically. He was just one of probably many faces that made up the familiar tapestry of the foreign city in her mind. His wishful thinking was going to get him in trouble some day. 

The physical manifestation of that was a heavy burden in his pocket that he couldn’t ignore when each step seemed to emphasize the weight of the vial resting against his thigh. Perhaps accepting Rahid’s offer had been a mistake after all. If there was nothing there in the first place then no amount of loosening up was going to improve his situation with her, would it? 

And that was to say nothing of the fact that he still had no idea what to tell her about his descent into poverty. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lambad’s Tavern isn’t particularly busy in the middle of the day but it’s not quite empty either, so Kaveh makes a point of picking out a secluded booth seat in the far back corner. He’d cited wanting to be away from the oud player and the crowd naturally drawn in by live music when she’d given him an odd look, but in reality he’d needed the relative privacy to get his head on straight. 

Over an hour later and he still hasn’t quite accomplished that, nor has he made a single decision on how to proceed from here. Not whether to tell her the truth or come up with a convenient excuse as to why he couldn’t invite her back to his place for a nightcap as he customarily did. Not whether to slip her some of the pink concoction when she wasn’t looking or toss it in the trash at his earliest opportunity to be rid of the evidence. Kaveh wasn’t normally this hesitant or irresolute but the situation was so littered with proverbial land mines that he feared making the wrong move a little too much to make any move at all. 

And Jeanne, in all the splendor and glow of the relaxed mood brought about by her holiday away from the court of Fontaine, was not making it any easier on him. 

“I did miss having your company, you know. Since I’m not on the clock this time I say we try to make the most of it while we can. I think we should go sightseeing together, actually.” She says, perfectly casual about it while she picks up her stout goblet from the table and takes a sip. He can’t help watching from the corner of his eye how the elegant line of her throat daintily bobs with the swallow but he quickly averts his gaze before she can notice. 

There was very little he wouldn’t give to press his mouth to that pale strip of flesh and nuzzle into her pulse. He felt like he was going mad. Jeanne de la Roche herself wanted to spend that much time with him? Willingly? It almost seemed too good to be true. 

“It occurred to me that I haven’t ventured out from the capital city or the port towns very much,” Jeanne goes on, idly swirling the glass in her hand now. “But Sumeru is a rather large country, isn’t it? I should think I’d like to see more of it.” 

Eager to busy himself with something so he can hide his jittery nerves, Kaveh leans forward to take up the decanter from the table and refills his own cup. He knew he was drinking a little too fast for a situation as precarious as this one but it couldn’t be helped. It would’ve seemed far more strange if he’d hardly touched his wine at all after pleading with her to come here. 

“Why, of course we can.” He tells her as amicably as he can manage. “I already have a few places in mind that I’d love to show you. I’m probably not the best candidate to play tour guide but … if you think you’re up for it, I can probably move some stuff around in my schedule.” 

Never mind the fact he didn’t yet have another job lined up after only just completing the last. His financial troubles had forced him to be a little more cautious about where and how he spent his time. Long gone were the days where he could leisurely mingle at the parties and grand openings hosted by wealthy businessmen or dignitaries who were keen on networking with him lest he run the risk of his secret getting out. Reputation was, unfortunately, a key factor in such stuffy social circles and he’d largely distanced himself from that particular crowd under the guise of being too busy to humor them. It was a vicious cycle and he could feel the pressure steadily closing in around him even now. 

But Jeanne didn’t need to know that. She’d probably understand it, given her own experiences dealing with courtiers and unreasonable noblemen who were accustomed to things being done a certain way, but he didn’t want to unload all of his woes on her. Not yet. 

Or preferably ever, if he was lucky enough to get out of it entirely. 

And she seems pleased enough with his willingness to accommodate her that he’s certain he’s made the right choice. Her smile is private and brief when she flashes it at him, but the teal of her eyes takes on a stunning warmth that very nearly makes his heart give out on the spot.

“Excellent. Of course I won’t take up all of your time though. I know just how busy you usually are but I must admit I’m looking forward to it. Are you certain a day or two of exploring Sumeru’s countryside together won’t hurt your productivity too much?” 

“Certainly not.” He swallows hard. “I’m looking forward to having a break of my own. All the better if it’s with you.” 

Offering up a brief sound of agreement, Jeanne thoughtfully glances down into her cup with that same secretive smile still in place. It strikes him as oddly curious, like there was more at play behind her good mood than just the vacation or the drink, but as always she doesn’t allow him enough time to parse what it might mean. 

Unfolding her legs where they’d been neatly crossed one over the other, she sets her goblet back down on the table and rises to her feet. “Then it’s settled. Excuse me for just a moment. I’m afraid I need to visit the powder room.” 

“Please, take your time.” He murmurs, attentively watching as she steps out from the booth before disappearing further into the tavern. Kaveh feels vaguely like a clingy puppy at the vague sense of loss that comes with watching her go but he quickly snaps himself out of it. 

This was his chance, wasn’t it? 

Surreptitiously, he glances at the glass she’s left behind. It would be all too easy to slip a few drops into her drink and no one would be none the wiser when their table was sequestered in the far back corner, away from where any prying eyes would be able to see it. Except he still hadn’t quite made up his mind yet. Was this a step too far? Would he be breaking some unspoken trust between them if he went through with this? 

The clock was ticking. He’d have to make his decision fast. 

“Dammit,” Cursing under his breath, Kaveh fumbles to get his hand inside his pocket. The glass vial feels warm from his own body heat as he wraps his long fingers around its slight circumference but he hardly even notices it in his flustered state. If he really went through with this … if he actually slipped her something without her knowledge … 

Oh, Jeanne was going to string him up like a solstice turkey if she ever found out. 

“I can’t do it.” He murmurs, hating the sinking feeling of defeat that makes his stomach feel like a solid lead weight yet he knew this was a line he just couldn’t bring himself to cross. No matter how badly he wanted to see her punch drunk and giggly (if such a Jeanne even existed) there was simply no way he’d ever be able to reconcile it with his conscience. In truth, he felt something like a slimy creep for even considering it in the first place. 

So he sits there for the next odd minutes, just sullenly regarding the little vial in his hand until she comes back and slides into the booth next to him again. His slumped shoulders must catch her attention, because she leans close to him to inspect what it is he’s looking at. 

“And what is this? Some sort of alchemical potion?” 

That manages to make him smile. “Hah. I said the same thing, you know. A friend gave this to me. He said a few drops in your drink would increase the efficacy and make it more potent.” 

Or something like that. Kaveh had been drinking a shade too fast since they got here to properly remember what exactly Rahid had told him. Not that that had been much to begin with, in retrospect. 

“Hmm. Interesting.” 

He’s not sure why he does it. Perhaps it’s the wine making his head feel fuzzy and muddled, or perhaps it’s nothing more than a last ditch effort on his part to win her over, but he holds it out to her in offering. “Wanna give it a try? I’m not sure how much effect it’ll actually have on you but …” 

She noises a brief sound of consideration, making up her mind surprisingly quick, and giving an elegant shrug. “I don’t see why not. I can’t even remember the last time I felt truly drunk.” 

“I’ve noticed that.” Numbly passing it over to her, Kaveh watches in disbelief as she uncorks the petite stopper and lifts it up to her nose for a sniff. He can hardly believe the situation would turn out this way after all the indecisive grief he’d endured leading up to this moment. 

Not only had he saved himself from dealing with the long lasting guilt of doing something so nefarious behind her back but she was also willing to drink it on her own accord? It truly seemed too good to be true. 

But, to his continued surprise, she does indeed reach out to position the vial over her waiting cup. A deliberate turn of her wrist sends a few pink droplets falling into the wine, dying it a faintly rust color in the center where it slowly starts to bleed out towards the edges. Jeanne appears to hesitate though, and at first he assumes she’s rethinking this decision – which he couldn’t exactly fault her for if that were the case. But then she tips the glass bottle again, spilling another healthy dose into her goblet, and his brows take a very expeditious trip up to his hairline.

“Uh, don’t you think that might be too much?”

“We’ll find out, won't we?” She shoots back, and he doesn’t realize she’s teasing him rather than issuing a challenge until she sends him a confidential smile. “It’s just as you said, Kaveh. There’s no way to know how much effect this will even have on me so I don’t see what harm it could do. You’ll have to forgive me though if I start acting like a fool. Can I trust you to watch over me if that happens?”

Kaveh starts to open his mouth, wanting to reassure her that everything is fine, of course he would, and to not give it another thought. But before he can even get a single word out she abruptly leans forward to snatch up her glass. In one smooth motion she brings it up to her mouth, tips it bottoms up, and drains what must be a good half of its contents all at once. 

Eyes widening to the approximate size of dinner plates, the blond lurches forward to grab at her elbow. “Woah, woah, hey! Slow down, there’s no rush is there? Don’t — you can’t drink it that fast!” 

She lowers the goblet enough to say, “And why not?” before decisively lifting it again. 

“Because -“ He fumbles for something to say, anything other than the humiliating truth, even as he grips her tight in an attempt to stay her hand. It’s no use though. She’s much too strong, stronger than him by a very noticeable margin, and there’s nothing he can do to stop her from taking another healthy swig. 

Such a realization probably would have hurt another man’s ego, left him feeling emasculated and lesser than. But Kaveh, on the contrary and much to his growing horror, only feels a dizzying rush of sharp edged excitement swell in his gut when her bicep powerfully flexes under his fingers. It’s like she doesn’t even notice he’s holding onto her at all and it is with a great deal of buzzing trepidation that he realizes just how easily she could have overpowered and pinned him down. It wouldn’t have even been much of an accomplishment. Despite the biological advances he naturally possessed as a man, he never could have gone toe to toe with her and hoped to come out on top. 

He quickly yanks his hands away as if she’d scalded him, his breath coming out in a quick rush now. His cheeks feel like they’re positively blazing while he watches in dismay as she finishes off the rest of the wine before reaching for the decanter. This wasn’t so strange for her, in truth. Jeanne seemed to enjoy dropping some of the stuffy aristocratic manners she’d been raised on when she was with him and she could hold her alcohol perfectly well under normal circumstances. But he had no idea what effect that strange liquid was going to have on her, especially not when she’d consumed so much of it all at once. 

And that was to say absolutely nothing of the unmistakable tendrils of arousal curling hot in his lower belly now. 

Practically shaking, Kaveh self consciously huddles into the corner of the booth and tries to get his bearings straight again. He’d known Jeanne was physically fit and strong, of course. It was a big part of the attraction, after all. But he hadn’t fully comprehended the actual differences in their strength, not like this. He’d never had it quite so poignantly displayed right in front of his very eyes before. 

And something told him he’d just made a grievous mistake when he decided to open up Pandora’s Box with that mysterious concoction. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thirty minutes later and Kaveh knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he has indeed made a monumental mistake. 

Jeanne, to her credit, doesn’t appear to be drunk or even particularly tipsy for that matter — not the way he and many others get, at any rate. She was still a steady, unflappable presence sitting next to him in the booth, neither faltering in an intoxicated daze nor slurring her speech like most did when they were inebriated. By all accounts she seemed to be almost entirely sober. 

Except the way she looks over at him is so hungry and pointed that he feels vaguely like a cornered prey animal staring down a half starved beast. The change had come on gradually at first and then more quickly when whatever he’d slipped her really started to kick in. Now she looked like she was seconds away from pouncing on him right then and there, and he wasn’t so sure he would have had the strength of will to tell her no. 

If this was Rahid’s idea of ‘warming up’ with his wife Kaveh was going to have to have another long talk with him. 

In the here and now, he fumbles for something to say. Anything at all to diffuse the situation and give him a chance to figure out how to fix this newest screw up in his long list of a track record. It seemed that no matter what he did, he really just kept digging his grave deeper and deeper. 

“Are you alright, Jeanne? Y - you look thirsty. Why don’t I grab you some water?” 

He quickly stands, but Jeanne is just as quick to grab his wrist and tug him back down. Her fingers are reminiscent of iron manacles, and he rather helplessly collapses into the seat again. Surreptitiously glancing into her darkened expression, he decides that this would have been a rather terrifying experience had he not been so embarrassingly aroused by it. There was clearly something very wrong with him. 

“No water.” She murmurs, her voice noticeably huskier than usual. If he didn’t know any better he’d think it was the sultry, intimate tone she would use with a lover in their most private of moments, and that doesn’t do much to help him fight down the erection trying to spring up in his pants. He needed to think fast. 

“Alright. Can I … can I get you something else, then? Maybe something to eat? That might — it might absorb some of the … wine in your system.” 

Jeanne gives her head a slow shake, burgundy forelocks swaying gently with the motion. “No. I’m not hungry for food, but thank you.” 

Oh. 

Unsure what else to do, Kaveh lets out a threadbare little laugh. “Ah, I - I see. Then are you in the mood for something else? I can get you whatever you want. On me, of course.” 

It’s not like he had the extra money for that but it doesn’t really seem to matter. She only drops her gaze as if in thought, deeply considering something that only she was privy to in that moment. 

Those cool, sea-green eyes snap back up almost immediately though. 

With a single minded decisiveness that makes his heart lodge itself in his throat again, she nudges closer to him in the booth. Stammering, he quickly brings his open hands up to indicate surrender but she just reaches right past them to grab his chin without so much as pausing. Completely ignoring the surprised squawk he lets out, Jeanne rather demandingly angles his face up at her as she leans in, pressing her body right up against his side until he's practically pinned back into the seat. 

She looks like she’s about to devour him whole, her entire frame practically vibrating with the urge to act on whatever is going through her head, but she manages to stop at the last possible moment. Visibly holding herself in check she takes a deep, faltering breath and lets it out on a slow exhale, trying to regain her composure.  

“I’m not sure what's happening but … I think we need to leave.”

“A - are you alright?” 

“I don’t know. I just suddenly feel so damn hot.” She slowly shakes her head, clearly unable to make any sense of it. It is with a great deal of effort that she forces her fingers to unlatch from his chin and she stiffly returns to her side of the booth, panting softly under her breath. 

Kaveh can’t help the worried guilt that rushes over him as he takes in her new demeanor, the hunched set of her shoulders and the fine sheen of sweat starting to form across her face. If he didn’t know any better he’d think she was suddenly coming down with a cold. This was not at all what he’d expected to happen based on Rahid’s vague description but, well. She had consumed more than just a few drops worth. He just hoped it wasn’t making her sick. 

“It’s okay, Jeanne. Let me pay the tab and then we’ll get out of here,” He tells her, consolingly reaching over to place his hand across her back. “Your place is closer than mine so lets - -”

“No. I’ll pay.”

“But I already said it was my treat - -”

In lieu of a proper response, she merely reaches up lightning quick to snag his wrist and Kaveh can’t quite help the startled yelp he lets out in response. Unperturbed by his reaction, she stands up in a rush and half drags him after her. Another blinding, white hot surge shoots through his body at the demanding way she steers him out of the booth, stopping just long enough to snag her luggage up off the ground before making a beeline up to the front counter. He’s helpless to do anything but follow along right in tow when she’s got an ironclad hold on him like this, and Lambad sends them an odd look from behind the long bar at their approach. 

“Leaving so soon? It’s not even been two hours yet.”

“O - oh, you know,” Kaveh nervously laughs, scrambling for an excuse that wouldn’t sound as incriminating as the current scene looked, but Jeanne is quick to cut across him. 

“We might come back tomorrow. I’m not feeling very well, unfortunately.” That much is clear in the way she shivers just ever so slightly as she sets her suitcase back down so she can dig into her pocket. The fact she refused to let him go, as if she was worried about him making a break for it, is not lost on him but there wasn’t much he could do about it at this point. 

A handful of mora is slapped down on the counter with enough force to make Kaveh wince and then she’s physically dragging him towards the exit. By the time they make it outside and step into the dense heat, Jeanne is full on panting like she couldn’t quite catch her breath, and the two of them stumble to a halt just on the edge of the road. Realizing she was hardly in any condition to navigate the city streets on her own, the blond cautiously steps closer to put his uncaptured hand on her shoulder, hoping to steady her a little bit. 

“Here, let me lead the way. Do you feel like you’re going to be sick? Maybe I should take you to a hospital …”

“No. That's not necessary.” She groans very softly, keeping her head hung forward so that her hair keeps her face mostly hidden from him. “Just want to go home. I think – I think I need to lie down for a while.” 

He was decidedly in agreement with that, so he gently coaxes her into motion until she at last gives in and shuffles after him on heavy feet. Luckily the house she rented year-round for her stays in Sumeru while on business was conveniently closer to the tavern than his old home would have been, so that saved him from having to break that particular news to her just yet. It was one of the very few breaks he seemed to be getting today. 

More importantly though he isn’t quite sure what to do with her in this state. She’d said she didn’t need a hospital but was she sure about that? Did she have the presence of mind to make those kinds of calls right now? In many ways this was the exact opposite of what he’d been hoping for. Instead of a clingy, affectionate Jeanne he’d gotten one who looked like she was either going to collapse or start retching everywhere. For all he was aware, she might even end up doing both and he had no clue how to handle any of it. 

But for once the gods seemed to be on his side because they eventually make it to her single sized home without incident and only a few curious stares from people wondering what was going on with the Fontainian woman. There was no telling what kind of rumors about them might be circulating around the city come morning but that was the least of his concerns. With her help, he manages to get the door unlocked and the two of them stumble inside. 

Immediately dropping her luggage, Jeanne moves to lean heavily against the wall while he gets the door closed. Even with her hair hanging forward he can still make out the furious flush that stains her cheeks and he cautiously approaches her, idly noting that when she was slumped like this they were at almost perfect eye level with one another. 

“Are you positive you don’t want me to fetch a doctor for you, Jeanne? I’m worried about you.” 

“Don’t be,” She insists, lifting a sluggish hand to vaguely wave off his concern. “I’ll be fine. I must have just drank too fast. I wasn’t expecting that brew to hit me so hard.” 

Deciding that was a major understatement, Kaveh reaches up to tug her coat off her shoulders. That probably wasn’t helping her current condition much, and it strikes him as oddly domestic. Like he was a housewife welcoming her hardworking husband home from a long day. 

His belly painfully clenches at the thought and, struggling to fight down the erection that tries to spring to life in his pants, he tosses her jacket on the nearby coat rack and then stiffly takes her by the shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed before you collapse on me.”

Much to his relief, she complies without a fuss and pushes off from the wall. Leaning into him for support, Jeanne allows Kaveh to guide her further into the house and down the hall. He’d only seen her bedroom once or twice before in passing, when he’d helped her with her luggage on previous trips, but this time there’s enough static tension hanging in the air that he can’t quite stamp down the mounting excitement in his lower body. It’s a shameful thing to realize his self control was this bad but he makes a valiant effort to keep it at bay while he gets her directed over to the waiting bed. 

“Here we are. Once you’re settled in I’ll go get you some water to drink.”

She doesn’t immediately sink onto the waiting mattress though. Even at his encouraging nudge, she just stands there breathing heavily, and he anxiously bends his head close to try and get a better look at her. 

“What’s wrong? Do you feel like you’re going to be sick?” 

“No.” 

“Then why don’t you - -“ 

It happens much too fast for him to comprehend any of it. 

One moment he’s standing on his feet, helping Jeanne support her weight, and the next she’s flipped him forward to hit the bed, sprawled out on his back. Kaveh barely has enough time to draw a sharp gasp as he bounces once before she’s on top of him, pinning him down against the sheets. Staring up at her, he’s so surprised in the aftermath of that sudden rush that he doesn’t even have the wherewithal to do anything else but gape at her. 

What in the seven hells was happening now? 

“Kaveh,” 

He gives a slight jolt. “O - oh. Yes – yes, Jeanne?” 

“I’m going to kiss you.” She announces with so little fanfare that he very nearly does a double take. 

“W - wha —“

“Kaveh,” She cuts across him, the strict command in her tone making the blond obediently snap his mouth shut. Apparently satisfied with that, she goes on. “I’ve thought about doing this for a while now. Quite a while, in fact. I’m not sure what was in that vial but I want you far too much right now to deny it any longer. I won’t force myself on you though, so speak up if you don’t want it. This is your chance to reject my advances. If you don’t take it I’m going to kiss you.” 

His eyes grow so impossibly wide it looks like they just might fall right out of his head and go rolling off across the floor, and with it comes a sudden realization. What Rahid had said about that pink concoction. He’d never come right out with it but he also hadn’t stated that it would make her drunk either. That had been his own jump to conclusions on the matter. What he’d told Kaveh was that it would warm her up and that he used it with his wife in their old age. He’d said it would give him plenty of time to prove to Jeanne that he was serious about wanting to pursue her. It wasn’t an elixir for drunkards, it was an intimacy potion! 

Kaveh’s brain stumbles over that thought, hardly even daring to believe it, but the proof was looming over him with a hungry, voracious look of wanting darkening her face. That explained everything. Why she was so short of breath and her skin flushed with perspiration. He’d thought she was feeling ill after ingesting all that wine on top of the mystery fluid but clearly that was not the case. She was so worked up because she was indescribably aroused. 

And he was the sole focus of all her attention? 

The poor architect very nearly faints dead away on the spot. 

Desperately groping for some semblance of a hold on his composure though, he starts to open his mouth. He’d wanted to tell her he would rather talk this out instead of making any rash decisions when she was so obviously under the influence and her judgment was clouded, but his silence must have stretched on for much too long at that point. Because Jeanne abruptly swoops in and he just manages to suck in a surprised gasp before her lips crash into his. He violently jerks as if she’d electrocuted him but, in truth, she doesn’t even seem to notice it. She’s much too busy trying to devour him, claiming his mouth and dominating the kiss before he even has a chance to try and take the upper hand for himself. Like her role of total power and control in their dynamic was already a foregone conclusion. 

Hell, maybe it was. 

In a truly dizzying rush, white hot static surges through his system with all the subtlety of a powerful explosive going off and Kaveh instantly gives over to the intense, bone rattling yearning he harbors for her. Tipping his head, he hungrily kisses her back, softly groaning into her mouth. His lips tremble under the demanding push and pull of hers even as he instinctively brings his arms up to wrap them around her shoulders, clinging to her while his long fingers dig into the soft fabric of her blouse. Noising a brief sound of approval, rewarding him for his eager response, she gives his bottom lip a taunting bite before lowering herself to languorously stretch out on top of him.

There really isn’t much difference in their builds, he suddenly realizes with her body pressed up tight against his like that. They were almost the same height and her shoulders not much wider despite the obvious strength residing in them. In truth, they probably would’ve been just about evenly matched if only Kaveh had taken Al-Haitham’s advice and he’d spent a bit more time exercising his muscles instead of hunching over his drawing table late into the night on various projects. Not that it really mattered now, at this crucial juncture. It was clear he’d be no match for her in his current state even if he’d wanted to fight and wrestle with her for dominance. 

He doesn’t, though. He really, really doesn’t want to pretend to be something or someone he’s not, especially when Jeanne herself never made any qualms about who she was either. This was in many ways exactly what he’d been dreaming of. To have her on top of him, pinning him down and taking whatever she wanted from him, so he happily surrenders, all but melting against her and letting her set the pace however she saw fit. 

And she doesn’t hesitate to do so, either by virtue of her proud, natural inclination for being in control or perhaps it was just in response to his submissive body language. Where once they’d barely touched each other beyond an occasional friendly brush of their hands, Jeanne now shamelessly presses herself flush against him like her claim on the blond man was already a bygone matter of fact. It was as if every single one of his shameful fantasies was coming to life in real time and he almost chokes on the boiling rush of emotion that swells in his chest. 

A pathetically small whimper escapes him and in response the hand that had come up to possessively wrap around his throat relaxes before falling away altogether, sliding up to cup his cheek instead. Her fingers are feminine and dainty yet rough with worn callouses. The grip she usually used for holding her sword is especially powerful, and it has him shuddering against her as blunt nails dig in just enough for him to feel the pinprick, drawing another muffled gasp out of him. But she quickly releases his face in favor of reaching further back to sink her fingers into his hair. Closing her fist at the back of his head, Jeanne gives it an experimental yet no less insistent tug that has his lips warbling open with an accompanying mewl. 

To his groaning surprise, she doesn’t hesitate to take this chance and she plunges her tongue into Kaveh’s mouth to suggestively caress over his in a long, wet swipe and savor the taste of him on her palette. The buzzing daze that encompasses him only grows stronger still and he feels downright delirious even as he dips his head back against the sheets to better accept her conquest of him. 

She's quick to pull away though, leaving him sprawled out and panting underneath her. Issuing a faint groan of disappointment at the loss, he cracks his eyes open to peer up into her face. 

He’s only slightly surprised to find Jeanne’s breath is coming even quicker than before, her cheeks flushed hot in what he now recognized as eager excitement, but somehow she still didn’t look half as worked up as he felt. It probably would have made him laugh, if only he’d had the extra oxygen to do so. Even when that blasted potion was wreaking havoc on her self control she still managed to keep some hold on her composure. It was in many ways astounding. 

“You … you didn’t have to stop.” 

A quietly strained laugh rises in her throat, soft and husky, to accompany the slow lift at the corner of her mouth. 

“Oh, is that so? What an unexpected surprise this is turning out to be.” She murmurs, uncharacteristically doting in the way she speaks to him now. Looking confident and svelte in her eager glow, she pushes up to get a better look at him. “I must admit, there was a very real part of me that hoped things would turn out this way eventually. I didn’t want to approach you with unwarranted expectations though. We’ve already danced around each other for far too long for me to start making assumptions now, wouldn’t you agree? But I suppose I had nothing to be worried about this entire time. You’re a good boy, aren’t you Kaveh?” 

His throat cinches shut, making him cough around the startled sound that materializes from his mouth unbidden. She doesn’t seem to pay it much mind though, shifting her weight more to the side so she can glance down the length of his body with a pointed look. Obediently, and not knowing what else to do, Kaveh hesitantly tears his eyes from her face and follows suit. 

The straining tent in the front of his pants comes as more of a shock to him than it does her. She’d probably felt it as soon as she’d flattened herself to the front of him but that doesn’t stop Kaveh from sucking in a sharp, deeply embarrassed gasp. His cheeks feel like they’re on fire as he shyly draws his knees together in an attempt to conceal his arousal from her but it’s no use. He’s much too hard, and the tent remains. The sharp sting of humiliation almost brings tears to his eyes, and he whimpers softly in his distress. Not only was this unbelievably shameful but he also feared the possibility that she might dismiss him from her presence because of it. This wasn’t exactly the kind of overly enthusiastic reaction most women would want out of their potential partners, was it? 

But Jeanne, evidently, is not most women. She practically purrs, in fact, when she brings her hand down to gently trace the center line of his chest, down over his nervously flexing stomach and even further than that to finally reach the jutted bulge between his legs. Possessively, she curls her fingers around it and palms him with a subdued, taunting squeeze. He almost sobs right then and there, whining softly at the first glorious touch of her hand on him. 

He’d been anticipating this for so long, dreaming and fantasizing about what this exact moment might look like, and he was ashamed to realize how dangerously close he already was to busting in his pants. This was the effect Jeanne had on him. This is what she turned him into. 

“My, you’re certainly excited aren’t you? And to think, I hesitated so much for fear that you might not reciprocate my interest …”

“P - please,” 

“Hush, Kaveh. Now that I’ve finally got you in my bed I won’t be letting you go anytime soon. You’re going to be good and do exactly as I say, aren’t you?” 

He quickly nods, swallowing so hard it almost makes him gag. “Yes. Yes, ma’am. I will. Anything.” 

Jeanne draws a slow, carefully controlled breath in response even as a distant shudder of anticipation wracks through her. “Ooh, look at you. Already so eager to please me. Is it possible you’ve also thought about this before?”

At his needy little whimper she offers another soft, velvety laugh that rushes straight to his cock, making it twitch in her hold. He’s so hard it almost hurts but he can’t quite bring himself to complain about that right now. Not when she was holding him like that and he could still taste the glorious flavor of her mouth on his tongue. So out of his mind with sharp tinged arousal, all he can do is offer up a faltering moan to accompany the dazed nod of his head. 

“I see. Then we are both fools, aren’t we? But are you certain you want to do this, Kaveh? I’m not the type of passive woman who will just indulge you long enough to get you off. If I’m to have you then I’ll have all of you.”  

He quietly seethes at the suggestion of what she was saying. It made it sound like he was some kind of honorable maiden about to be bedded by a chivalrous knight of the court, and the way his cock jumps in her hand makes it quite clear just how much he liked that idea. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced and yet so deeply attractive that he wasn’t so sure he would’ve been able to reject anything at all she asked of him from here on out. She could have told him to go jump off the highest point of the Akademiya’s tallest spire and he wouldn’t have given it another thought. 

“I … gods, I think I’d be mad if you didn’t at this point. Please, Jeanne. I’m yours, however you want me.” 

Humming a brief sound of approval, she gives his straining erection one last, lingering squeeze before dragging her hand up to fiddle with the brooch that holds his mantle in place over his shoulders. While she works on that, she leans close again and brushes a teasing, featherlight kiss over his lips. Struggling to keep his breath evened out, Kaveh needily kisses her back but no amount of desperation on his part manages to prepare him for when she abruptly sits upright and throws one leg over his middle without any further buildup to that pivotal moment. 

Settling on top of him, she shoots him a sly little smile even as she reaches down to take his slack wrists in her hands. Folding them up above his head, she pins them down to the bed with her weight before hunching close again so she can claim his mouth the way he’d been hoping she would. Jeanne’s hunger is obvious in the way she kisses him as if she were trying to consume his very life force, and in the way she not so subtly grinds her pelvis against him. Even through the many layers of clothes still separating them he can feel the intense heat radiating out from between her legs, and he issues a soft whine when his balls draw up in warning. 

This wasn’t good. If he shot off in his pants before she even properly touched him skin to skin, he was never going to forgive himself. She may not have been very put off by his other shortcomings but he had a feeling this was one she wouldn’t be quite as willing to overlook. 

So with a great deal of effort he tears his mouth from hers, sucking in a ragged breath. “Nghn, J - Jeanne … I might - -“

She unexpectedly shoves her face into the line of his neck, nipping at his pulse, and he physically shakes straight down to his toes. This was exactly what he’d thought about doing to her back at the tavern and the irony of that isn’t lost on him. Having the roles reversed so completely, being on the receiving end of such amorous attention … 

“Ooh, I think — I might need a moment, please.” 

“Aww, what’s the matter, Kaveh? Do you already feel like you’re going to cum for me?” She purrs against his skin, laughing softly when he trembles so violently in response the bed distantly rattles. “Don’t worry. I know exactly how to get you ready for another round if I need to, so there’s nothing to fret about. You’re in good hands, I promise.” 

“W - what does that mean?” He squeaks, unable to keep the nervous trepidation out of his voice. 

Ignoring the question, Jeanne sits up on his stomach and lifts her hands to make quick work of her red tie, her finely made courtiers jacket and then her blouse which she practically rips off in her rush to get undressed. Kaveh, feeling unexpectedly scandalized by the unprecedented strips of creamy flesh being revealed to him, almost brings his hands up to shyly cover his face. He can’t quite rip his eyes away though and he outright stares at the full cups of her satiny brassiere in something not unlike disbelief. He’d never been so blessed with a more tantalizing, beautiful sight in all his life. 

“Now it’s your turn.” She murmurs, hungrily licking her lips as she sets her sights on the sash at the front of his waist. Giving it a good tug is all it takes to have it loosened and then she’s flipping the bottom of his flouncy shirt out of the way so she can get at his pants. 

Kaveh starts to protest, wanting to ask her to at least slow down, but a quick look at Jeanne’s expression makes him think better of it. She was going to chew him up and spit him out one way or another, there probably wasn’t any point in stalling the inevitable. 

Clenching his hands into tight fists, he simply watches as she gets his slacks unfastened and then roughly yanks them down. A soft whimper rises in his throat but she pays it little mind, much too focused on getting them yanked off right along with his shoes. She doesn’t hesitate to come back for his underwear and his cock is soon springing up to arc through the air with a rigid bounce, making him hiss at the sensation as much as at being suddenly exposed. Feeling rather self conscious of his sudden nudity, he snaps his attention up to fretfully gauge her reaction. 

The pleased smile that slowly pulls at her mouth catches him off guard, and he nervously fidgets under the watchful spotlight of her attention. 

“Well, Kaveh, I must say you’ve got a rather pretty cock, don’t you? I expected as much given how lovely you are in the face, but …” 

Eagerly, Jeanne reaches out to wrap her fingers around him and he jolts at the abrupt contact, teeth clenching in an attempt to stave off his impending release. She hadn’t seemed worried about it but he really had no idea what she’d meant by knowing how to get him ready for another round. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to find out. 

“Mm, and you’re sensitive too. How delightful. I wonder what would happen if I just …” 

With a tauntingly slow motion of her hand, she tugs up on his cock and drags her hand from about mid shaft up to the head. Kaveh gives a full bodied, lurching jerk in response, letting out a gutted moan when her fist makes the foreskin bunch over his tender glans. He clenches his toes so hard it actually hurts, desperately trying to will his orgasm away, but if she felt any sympathy for him she certainly doesn’t show it. She simply pulls her fist down, retracing the path she’d already taken once, and he outright chokes when it draws the skin back from the glans entirely with a sticky wet click. 

“Oh my,” She breathes out, sounding a little surprised and a lot excited. “That’s quite a lot of precum, isn’t it? You must have really wanted this bad.” 

“I - I’m sorry,” He whimpers, his flat stomach dramatically flexing under the tension. “I can’t — I don’t think I can hold it …” 

“Is that so? And if I tell you I’ll give you a reward?” He shoots her a harried look of confusion and Jeanne smiles rather magnanimously in return. “If you can avoid cumming for the next five minutes, I’ll treat you to something really nice. How does that sound, hm?”

Archons above, she was trying to kill him! 

At his helplessly weak nod, she offers a quiet sound of approval and an encouraging squeeze to his shaft. His hips fruitlessly buck under the sensation but he quickly stills them again when she starts to drag her hand back up at a painfully sedate pace, caressing him in torturous slow motion. Full on wheezing, Kaveh screws his eyes shut and forces himself to stay still even when his muscles start to vibrate with the intense urge to give in. To follow after her grip and thrust into her fingers, to let loose and spasm for all he was worth. Even putting aside the reward she’d mentioned, he just didn’t want to disappoint her. 

So he simply lies there and takes it while she jerks him off at such a staggered, halting pace he really feels like he just might go mad. It was hard just to breathe around it let alone think, and as a result the only thing he can do is focus his cotton stuffed head on not cumming. He repeats it again and again, like a lifesaving mantra, but he’s so close that it feels like a lost cause. His balls are heavy and they ache fiercely where they’re drawn up tight against his scrotum, so close to shooting off but forced to hold back. This was hell. Glorious, mind numbing hell and it existed squarely within the confines of this bed. 

“Such a good boy you are,” She coos another moment later, making him heave and desperately arch up off the bed at the inviting sound of her voice. His narrow, shaking hips are the only part of him that stays rooted to the mattress while the rest of him desperately twists with back bending need, grunting at the effort of trying to stave off his release. “You’re doing so well for me. I can tell how close you are. Wouldn’t it be nice if you could just let go and - -“ 

Cutting her off with a strangled, partially horrified moan, Kaveh can’t stop himself from thrusting up into her grip any longer and he does so with such force it makes something in his lower spine pop. That’s all it takes, just that one hurried rush of movement, and his cock pitifully erupts in a sudden stream of milky white discharge. He cums with a hardly dignified sound, gutted and elated in equal measure. Spurt after spurt, it just keeps coming to paint her knuckles white and stain the bottom of his loose fitted shirt, until finally it runs dry with one last aching twitch that leaves him desperately wheezing. 

“Oh, god!” Bonelessly, Kaveh collapses back into the bed, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed. It takes him a prolonged moment to get his bearings straight, or at least enough to comprehend that he was still alive and Jeanne was very much not a figment of his imagination, and he slowly lifts his head to glance down at her. 

Smiling slyly, she rather daintily releases his cock and holds her hand up to show off the incriminating evidence coating her hand. “I’m afraid you only lasted about two minutes and thirty seconds but …” 

“Please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” He says in a rush, but she continues on as if he hadn’t even spoken. 

“I’ll admit that was still longer than I thought you’d manage to pull off. With the way you were acting, I’d half expected you to lose it in under a minute.”

Practically withering in shame, Kaveh shyly draws his knees together but Jeanne is quick to palm his legs apart again. A soft whimper escapes him at the sticky smear she leaves along his thigh, like a reminder of his failure. This was not quite how he’d envisioned this unfolding. 

“Don’t fret, now. I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I? Besides,”

Peeking up at the pointed tone in her voice, the blond warily follows her line of sight down to his groin and a soft mewl escapes him at the sight of his cock, still half hard and stirring with interest. He’d cum so hard he almost felt numb from the waist down now but there was no getting around what he was looking at. It wasn’t going to take much to have him at full strength again. That much was obvious. 

“I can go again,” He quickly stammers before she can jump into action and take care of it for him. “I’m sure I’ll last longer this time too. But you should — you should really let me take care of you first. I promise I’m good with my mouth.”

“I’m sure you are.” She agrees, smiling at him like she knew he was stalling for time and she thought it was cute. “But I don’t think that will be necessary. You’re going to take care of me another way, Kaveh.” 

Pulling back from him completely, Jeanne takes a moment to withdraw a handkerchief from the pocket of her trousers with her unsoiled hand and she uses it to wipe the cum off the other. Carelessly tossing it aside, she then sets her hands to work on her pants and he tenderly winces when his spent cock bobs with growing excitement at the implication of what was to come. She genuinely was trying to kill him, he decides. And she was doing a spectacular job of it so far. 

“Be a good boy and take off the rest of your clothes for me, hm?” 

It takes everything Kaveh has not to outright sob as he obediently sits up and starts tugging off his shirt. Soon the both of them are completely naked, save the sleek black bra Jeanne leaves on for the time being, and he self consciously brings his arms up to wrap them around his chest when she returns to him on the bed. He feels more than a little foolish for it, like some awkward maiden that wasn’t used to being seen in such a vulnerable state — and, really, that actually wasn’t far from the truth — but she doesn’t seem to be half as disappointed by that as he may have once feared she would be. 

If anything, Jeanne actually looks quite pleased with the blond in her bed, and she reaches out to gently take his shoulders once she’s kneeling next to him. “Lay down?” 

He complies, eager pinpricks erupting along his skin where her hands touch him. Of course he’d known he was pathetically, regrettably weak for her long before this, but looking up at her now he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that she really was the one for him. Who else could even compare? No one was as strong as Jeanne, nor as pretty. No other woman came from a background of aristocratic opulence while behaving like she did. She was — everything, wasn’t she? 

“Good. Now, be good for me and let me have my fun, okay?” 

Swallowing his nerves down, Kaveh offers a single nod and Jeanne coos at him very softly in response, assuring him that he was making the right choice for once in his life. Bracing her hands against his narrow chest, she confidently throws her leg over his middle again but this time she keeps her pelvis angled up rather than immediately settling on top of him. He feels downright hysterical when she reaches for his cock and possessively wraps her fingers around it. Despite the fact he was still recovering from his first orgasm, it immediately flexes in her hold to stand at attention. Obedient and loyal, just like his heart was, apparently. 

He seethes softly under his breath at the ache in his overwrought loins but doesn’t try to fight it as she angles him towards her cunt and the glorious thatch of red hair there, a shade darker than that on her head. A vague sense of panic does make his chest expand with a sharp gasp though, and he fumbles his hands down to grab hold of her hips. So soft and womanly under his fingers, yet indescribably powerful when they flex with the motion of lowering herself onto him. 

Truthfully Kaveh hadn’t thought it was possible to get any more worked up then he already was, yet the first silky soft brush of her wet lips against his glans has him feeling dangerously close to passing out. Contrary to his earlier statement, he was not going to last any longer than he had the first time. 

“W - wait —“ 

“Are you nervous, Kaveh?” She laughs, the sound so inviting and teasing it very nearly has him going cross eyed with the intense surge of fresh arousal that sparks in him. “Don’t overthink it. Just lie back, relax and let me have my fun, hm? You want to please me, don’t you?” 

“Ahh … y - yes, ma’am. I do.” 

Breathing out a clipped, anticipatory sigh, Jeanne sedately drags him back and forth through the wet folds and creases of her cunt, ensuring that he was nice and sticky too. Not that he thought he needed it when she already felt like she was soaked so penetration was sure to be a nonissue, but it certainly felt good. Heavenly, actually. 

Fingers sinking into the soft give of her hips, he silently pleads with any god willing to listen for his stamina not to give out at the worst possible time. 

Another anticipatory moment later, she finally angles him back towards her entrance and starts to sink the rest of the way down. The blinding rush of heat that all at once envelops him damn near sends him careening over the edge right then and there, but he valiantly holds it back with a sobbing little hiss. Clutches at her like his life depended on it, and it very well might, while Jeanne gradually takes him deeper and deeper into her body one inch at a time. Just as he’d suspected, she was already perfectly lubricated and he gives a powerless curse under his breath, stealing a harried glance between them to watch her swallow him down to the base. Her thick curls are a poignant contrast to his coarser, ashen brown ones, but they look right at home mingling together like that. 

“Bless the seven - -!”

“Mmnn, you feel so good, Kaveh. You’re just where I want you to be.” Giving a taunting wriggle of her hips to make him sensitively wince, Jeanne reaches for one of his hands. Slides it around to the front of her abdomen and presses down on a certain spot along her lower stomach. “Right there. Can you feel it? That’s how deep you are.” 

The wordless noise he lets out is rife with distress, and he sucks in a horribly frazzled breath in an attempt to steady his nerves a little bit. She just laughs though, another soft, liltingly husky sound that makes him want to cry out. 

And he does, mewling a huffy noise into the statically charged air when she leans forward to square her balance in the center, on her toes and with her hands palming his chest. She starts to move then, keeping her motions short and experimental at first while she gets a better feel for him and how he hits her most pleasure inducing spots. It doesn’t take long for her to pick up the pace though and she begins to bounce in earnest, taking him in long, drawn out plunges now. 

Flicking her long braid over her shoulder mid bounce, Jeanne pins him with a salacious grin. “Yeah, right there. You’ve got it. Ahhn, you’re such a good boy for me. You’d better not, nghn, bust as quickly as the first time. Not before I get mine.” 

“J - Jeanne —“ 

He sounds incredibly whiny even to his own ears but he can’t help it. Not when he could feel his cock throbbing inside her, still tender from getting hard again much too soon after already cumming once, and she didn’t seem to care. She was clearly much more concerned with her own pleasure now, enthusiastically chasing that gratification on top of him, but that just seems to ratchet his own excitement up even further. The more she took from him the more he wanted to give, the higher his arousal seemed to climb. 

It is with no shortage of horror that Kaveh realizes he’s going to cum again, not because she was riding him so expertly, but because she was using him for her own pleasure and that was getting him off more than anything. Even in all his fantasies and wistful daydreams, he’d never imagined that having her treat his cock like her own personal toy would turn him on quite this much. 

“Oh! Shit! I - if you don’t slow down, Jeanne, I’m - -“ 

Her hips start to come down faster, harder in response, and the sharp slap of skin meeting skin rises louder in the air. He practically chokes on it, squirming underneath her as every muscle in his body rapidly tenses up in preparation to blow another load and simultaneously to try and stave it off. It wasn’t just overwhelming, it was downright mind numbing, and he pathetically whimpers even as his eyes start to roll back in his head. 

Too much. It was too much. 

“Please — please —“ He’s babbling, his mouth running on autopilot now, but still she doesn’t seem to care. 

His cock was hers to use however she saw fit and it was clear she wanted it thrusting deep into her guts right now. It feels like every ounce of blood in his body rushes down to his groin all at once, making it swell to uncomfortable proportions as his balls tightly draw up again. He tries to hold back, really, but it’s all too much for him to bear. The wet warmth of her body gripping him like a vice, the breathy sounds that slip from her mouth and the all encompassing smell of her cloying on the back of his tongue. He was powerless before it. 

And he cums again, just like that. His strangled, frantic moan is high pitched and bordering on frantic as he shoots off inside her but even then she just keeps going. Even when his cock finishes spraying her inner sleeve with white, creamy clumps, she just keeps riding him. The only response he gets that indicates she’s even aware of it happening is a low, huffy groan in the back of her throat but it doesn’t so much as make her pause. 

His hands practically cramp up from how hard he’s clutching at her, roughly sucking in a series of wet, faltering breaths. His body can’t take it when every conceivable inch of him was painfully throbbing in protest at the continuous stimulation. The sensation is sharp and stabbing, and he finally throws his head back against the sheets to helplessly wail up at the ceiling. 

“Oh, Kaveh,” She finally murmurs another moment later. “Are you crying?”

His eyes snap open so suddenly it takes them a heartbeat or two to catch up and make any sense of the visual input. Just in time to watch Jeanne lean over him, getting close to his face and alternating her previous bouncing motion to a slower, more savory grind that makes him wince in his oversensitized state. She doesn’t seem to pay it any mind though, her teal eyes taking in his face with obvious delight. 

“You poor thing,” Breathing out softly, she slides one hand up from his chest, over his neck and higher still to cup his cheek. “You really are tender, aren’t you? I wasn’t expecting to make you cry until at least the third round.” 

Kaveh’s taxed heart nearly gives out right then and there. “T - third round? You … you can’t be serious - -“

“I’m very serious, I’m afraid. I’m not sure what else you expected when you gave me an aphrodisiac though. Don’t tell me you’ve bitten off more than you can chew?” 

“Aph - wait, you knew?” 

“Well, I didn’t at the time but I’ve certainly figured it out by now. In all honesty, I picked up very early on that you were acting rather strange today but I hadn’t expected you to go to such lengths just to get me into bed. All you’d had to do was ask, you know.” 

He just gapes up at her, big, wet glistening tears beading along his lash line to make them clump together. What she was saying wasn’t just inconceivable, it didn’t make any sense! If she’d suspected something amiss, if she’d had any doubts about his intentions then …

His eyes suddenly go big and round. “You — that’s what you meant earlier … about unwarranted expectations?”

She smiles at him, a vaguely mischievous, sly little smile, and exhales a savory sigh. “Yeah, but I’d say that’s a moot point now, wouldn’t you agree? I’ve already made you cry so …” Closing the distance, Jeanne’s tongue flicks out to lap up a salty tear from his cheek and he startles like she’d shocked him. That only makes her laugh though, and she pulls back to sit upright again so she can reach behind her to unclasp the hooks on her bra. “Let’s continue, shall we? I’ve got something special in mind for that overly eager cock of yours.” 

Satiny cups fall away, revealing her bare breasts to him at long last, and Kaveh sucks in such a harsh, flustered gasp it almost sounds like he’s choking. Pleased with his reaction, she tosses the garment aside and then much to his slack jawed surprise, she moves to dismount from him. His spent cock slips free humiliatingly fast and wetly flops down to rest across his lower belly, completely soft now. 

Self consciously, Kaveh reaches down to gingerly cover himself from her scrutiny but she merely turns to climb down off the bed as if it were none of her concern. Maybe it wasn’t, and he practically withers at the thought. 

“Get on your hands and knees for me.” She says, not bothering to look back at him while she tugs open a drawer on the nightstand. 

“Please, Jeanne, I don’t think I can handle another round so soon.” He groans, even as he slowly pushes himself up to sit. It wasn’t just his cock that felt sore and achy, his entire body hurt at this point. “If you just give me, I don’t know, an hour, I’m sure we’ll have much better results.” 

“You really expect me to wait that long?” 

“W - well, no, but - -“

“Hands and knees, Kaveh. Now.” 

Whimpering softly, he does as he’s been told and turns over to assume the position. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, she had in store for him but there were certainly a few sinking suspicions running through his mind, and he wasn’t sure if he was prepared for any of them. Mentally or physically, it seemed he really had bitten off more than he could conceivably chew. 

She soon returns to him, evidently having found what she was looking for and crawling up onto the bed to kneel just behind him. He can’t quite bring himself to look back at her, a little too embarrassed by everything that has already happened here today as much as the unseemly pose he was currently in to face her head on. He was also more than a bit nervous too, and he decidedly did not want her to see that reflecting back at her in his expression. Sure, Kaveh may have been fruitlessly grasping at straws here, but he was dead set on preserving whatever minuscule amount of his pride he still had left. 

Which was decidedly not much at all. 

“Relax for me. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“I know that …” 

But did he really, though? He trusted her, yes, but there was a very real part of him that didn’t know what to expect in the coming moments and that made him understandably a bit jittery. 

That fact is very poignantly highlighted when she touches him, placing her hand along his lower back, and he jolts so hard he nearly comes right up off the bed. Chuckling softly at the reaction, Jeanne rubs comforting, coaxing circles into his skin as if she were encouraging an overly skittish pup to settle down. 

“So jumpy. Have I actually done anything to make you this nervous yet?” 

He grumbles a low, noncommittal sound, not entirely sure he trusted himself to speak when he was as naked as the day he was born and spread out on her bed on full display. His reticence quickly proves to be a moot point though, because when she drags her hand down to the cleft where his ass starts, he outright yelps in surprise. 

“Wait - -“ 

“Unfortunately I don’t have the time or the patience for that right now. You said you were going to be a good boy for me, didn’t you?” 

“ I — I did, but …” 

“Then do as I say and relax. I promise you aren’t going to hate this half as much as you think you will.” 

Groaning softly, Kaveh hangs his head in a clear sign of defeat and Jeanne takes that chance to readjust her position behind him, settling directly between his knees now. Both of her hands come up to cup his cheeks, giving them each a savory, appreciative squeeze, and he mewls very quietly when she spreads them apart. His face positively blazes with the knowledge that she was looking at his most private areas uninterrupted and he restlessly fidgets as a result. 

He feels her lean close then and he braces himself — for what, he isn’t sure, but it’s certainly not the wet swipe of her tongue across the tight pucker of his asshole. The sensation is unmistakable and jarring, and he instinctively tries to shy away from it with a frazzled yelp. 

“Jeanne!” He shrills, further embarrassing himself with the high pitch of his voice. 

“Goodness, you really are like an innocent virgin, aren’t you?” 

He doesn’t exactly have a comeback for that, not when he was certainly acting like one, so he just settles on a vague sound of disagreement. 

Chuckling, she leans into him again and, now that he actually knows what’s coming, he clenches his teeth to stay any of the humiliating sounds that rise in his chest at the next swipe of her tongue. It’s a bit less shocking this time but no less confusing when he can’t make any sense of why she would be doing this. Surely she wasn’t … she didn’t plan to - -

“Don’t tense up so much,” She murmurs against him, warm breath fanning over his skin and tickling the sticky wrinkle of his hole. He feels a slight twitch in his groin in response to the featherlight sensation but it’s not near enough to have him springing back up to full attention again. 

So he simply takes it with as much grace as he possibly can, passively letting her lap at him without protest until he can eventually feel the tight rim start to puff up under her ministrations. The muscle was slackening and giving way, allowing her more freedom to poke and prod at the center to tease the suggestion of penetration. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that or any of this, but he doesn’t protest even when she seals her mouth around him and gently starts to suckle. Now he felt overwhelmed in a completely different way than before, and he wheezes quietly under his breath. This was unfamiliar territory for him, completely uncharted, but it is his implicit trust in Jeanne that keeps him from bolting like a frightened rabbit. 

And just like the easily frightened hare, he all but quails when she finally pulls back some moments later to fiddle with something behind him. He didn’t want to look, couldn’t bring himself to look, but he quickly figures out what she’s up to when her fingers come up to touch him and they’re unnaturally sticky with grease, genuine surprise making his heart stutter a beat. 

Dear god, she was really going to do this! 

“Ah, J - Jeanne, are you sure that’s - -“ 

She carefully pushes, dipping one digit just inside the tight ring of muscle without stopping long enough to hear him out, and he instantly blurts out a wordless sound of startled shock. Unable to stop himself anymore, he snaps his head around to peer over his shoulder at her but she just offers up a vaguely conspiratorial smile. 

“You’re tensing up again.” 

“Well, can you really blame me!” 

“No, not really. But trust me, you’ll find you’re much more keen here in just a moment.” 

He doesn’t believe that. He doesn’t believe that at all, not when his hole was weakly pulsing around the intrusion in a way that made him feel panicky and trapped, and that was to say absolutely nothing of the sharply felt pangs of embarrassment he could feel creeping up his neck. 

But then she pushes in a little deeper, slipping in down to the second joint, and his entire body seizes in response, igniting a red hot, tingling sensation low in his gut. His mouth drops open in surprise but nothing comes out, his chest rapidly contracting with the quick gasps he pulls in. It still didn’t exactly feel good, or at least he’s pretty sure it doesn’t, but he felt … something from it. Something that takes his breath away and threatens to suffocate him. He’d never been penetrated like this before but to have Jeanne doing it, carefully fingering his body open, it occurred to him much too late that she was probably right. He probably was going to like this if she was the one doing it. 

“Oh, oh, oh,” He wheezes, fighting the instinctive urge to pull away when she just keeps going, dipping her finger further in until he feels the obvious press of her knuckle flush against his hole. Swaying unsteadily on his hands and knees, he frantically gropes for his frazzled thoughts for something to say. “That’s — hold on, please, just … take it slow, okay?” 

“Didn’t I already tell you I don’t have time for that, Kaveh? You’re going to take what I give you however I see fit to give it. Do you understand?” 

Not waiting for him to respond (as if he even could respond to that), Jeanne angles her finger down and gently massages along his inner wall. The sensation is strange and he still can’t quite decide if it was pleasurable or not, so he just squirms in place while she feels along his guts. At least it didn’t hurt. That seems to be his one and only consolation in this confusing situation he’s gotten himself in, and for that he was thankful. 

“Ah,” She suddenly blurts. “Found it.” 

He almost finds himself asking what it is she’s found in his ass of all places but he doesn’t quite make it any farther than opening his mouth. She abruptly angles that insidious digit downward, digging into his interior wall, and a shock of static electricity immediately shoots through his entire system with enough force to damn near bowl him right over. He comes very close to full on wailing in response even as his hips subconsciously buck under the pressure and his cock gives a distant, muted twitch. 

Icy fear promptly races down his spine. No. No, it couldn’t be — 

She repeats the motion, massaging down into that unimaginably sensitive bundle of nerves with a forceful curl of her finger, and his knees almost give out in response. He understood now what it was she wanted but he was helpless to stop it at this point, outright sobbing while she expertly turned his own body against him. No matter how much he tries to fight it or will it away, his cock was slowly coming back to life with each twist of her hand even when it hurt to do so. He was still much too sore after two consecutive orgasms but even through the discomfort he still gradually starts to harden again. 

Left with no other choice, Kaveh finally allows his upper body to sink down onto the bed where he folds his arms and buries his face in their protective cradle. He’d never be able to look Jeanne in the face after this. It had already started off bad enough when he’d shot his load in under four minutes but it had only continued to get worse from there, and now she was fingering his asshole to coax yet another erection out of him. 

Somehow it doesn’t even come as a surprise when the tears start up again. 

“There you go. Just look at you.” She murmurs approvingly some odd minutes later when his cock has finally finished filling out and it was now a heavy, hanging weight between his legs. “If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t even think you’ve gone one round yet.” 

“Nnghnoogh, please, Jeanne. This is hardly, aghhn, the time for jokes.” 

“You’re right. Well, let’s get you fitted then.”

Kaveh blinks through the tears, wondering what she was talking about now, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask. She starts to slowly pull her finger out without any further warning and he whines at the resulting drag against his guts when the muscle tries to cling to her on the way out. It’s like she doesn’t even notice though, or perhaps she doesn’t care, and she slips free with a tiny little slurp from his clenching entrance. Physically cringing at the sound, he shoves his face further into the comfort of his arms and tries very hard not to sob. 

He can hear her fiddling with something behind him but he’s a little too far gone to wonder about what the next trial might be. He’d find out sooner or later anyway, and in this case it turns out to be quite soon. 

Carefully, her hands slip something over his rigid cock and draws it up to the base. It feels vaguely like leather, and that thought is quickly solidified in his mind when she tightens it until the material cinches around him in a tight squeeze that is resoundingly uncomfortable on his already nerve sensitive skin. Sucking in a sharp breath, Kaveh shoves himself up on his elbows so he can peer down at himself. Sure enough, the black thong secured around his scrotum is obvious and speaks for itself. The message was clear. If he couldn’t control himself enough to hold back his orgasms until she was satisfied then she’d help him out. Give him a nudge in the right direction. 

He absolutely hated how familiar that sentiment sounded. 

“You can’t — you can’t do that, Jeanne! It’s too tight and … that’s not fair, is it? I could have used my mouth.” 

“Ooh, are you whining, Kaveh? Such a sad little thing you are. Unfortunately it’s not your mouth I want right now though.” Rising up, she leans over him so she can press herself flush along his back. Her hand comes around to curl under his chin and manually turn his face up at her, and he offers her a tiny little sniffle to go with the puppy eyed face he makes. “What I want is that pretty cock you’ve got between your legs and you’re going to give it to me, aren’t you? Hm?” 

“Nnghn … yes, ma’am.” 

“Good. Now switch me spots.” 

She peels away from him so she can move up a little higher on the bed while he gingerly gets himself situated on his knees. Even just a brief glance down at the state of his poor cock, swollen and darkened by the tight band cutting off the circulation to keep him hard and ready, is enough to make him feel light headed with overwhelm. He’d wanted this though, had practically begged any god willing to listen for even just one real chance with Jeanne, and he knew better than to fight it. He’d dug this hole for himself so, with an accompanying sniffly, he compliantly moves to position himself between the bend of her knees when she gets settled on her back. And looking down at her spread out like that, he dully realizes that he’s never been happier in all his life. 

It wasn’t just that she was pushing his body right to its limits while simultaneously keeping the important bits of him grounded in reality, although that was certainly gratifying in its own right too. It also wasn’t a simple matter of fulfilling and acting on his long held attraction for her, making his fantasies a reality. Rather, there was something about this power dynamic between them that just made him feel whole and complete, like he’d been born just to play this role for her. He’d experienced felt anything quite like it before, and it is with an immense amount of nervous anticipation that he lines himself up with her entrance. 

“I’m going to do it.” He announces, thinking it was for her benefit, but she immediately shoots that idea down when she tsk’s very softly in response. 

“What did I tell you about relaxing, Kaveh? Don’t worry. I’m confident you’re going to do an excellent job.” 

As if to prove that, she reaches between them and wraps her fingers around his straining length, giving it a tight squeeze. He shudders, feeling every little thing in high definition when the nerves were so sensitized and swollen with excess blood. It’s hard just to breathe through it but she helps him with this as well by gently guiding him back into place and encouraging him with a slow tug. 

Clutching her soft thighs in a death grip, Kaveh follows the suggestion with his hips and pushes forward, spearing into hot creases and folds in torturous slow motion. He can’t quite bring his body to move any faster than that and he lets out a frazzled, high pitched keening sound when he starts to sink inside her body again. It felt even more intense than it did the first time, and he surely had the black thong cinched tight around his scrotum to thank for that. Almost like having a transcendental experience, it makes his soul feel like it’s flickering out at the edges.  

He keeps going though, a little too far gone within the heightened daze of his arousal to think of anything else other than burying himself as deep into Jeanne as he could reasonably go, and he doesn’t stop until his pelvis is flush with hers. Letting out a wounded, faltering grunt, he sways unsteadily over top of her. Tries to ground himself to no avail. He wasn’t going to come out of this on the other side the same person he’d once been. Of that he’d never been more certain.  

“Kaveh,” She says his name so soft, so dotingly, as her hands come up to cup his face and angle it down at her. “You’re crying again, my love. Do you really like being inside me that much?” 

Numbly nodding his head even while the tears continue to streak hot tracks down his cheeks, the blond fumbles for something to say before finally settling on, “I do. Of course I do, but … I want to make you feel good too.” 

A slow smile curls Jeanne’s mouth, more sly and knowing than it is sweet, but like a loyal dog Kaveh is just happy to get whatever he can. He doesn’t mind the way she looks at him like a hungry, powerful predator sizing up its prey and he doesn’t mind the way she reaches down to possessively grope at his chest either. Despite him being almost totally flat and lacking in much to grab, that doesn’t stop her from pinching at his poor little breast until he hisses, half in discomfort and half in pleasure. This, too, he was happy to be on the receiving end of. 

“You are making me feel good, you silly thing. But I’d feel even better if you started moving already. I’m not much for cock warming, you know.” 

He blushes straight up to his ears, stammering out a quick apology. Unconcerned, Jeanne slides her hand further down and then back to reach for his tight ass, giving it an appreciative jostle. 

“Quickly, now. If you don’t act soon I’ll have to fuck you instead and show you how it’s done. Considering the way you reacted just from having my finger inside you I don’t think you’re quite ready for that yet, are you?” 

“N - no, ma’am. I’m not.” 

“Didn’t think so. Then get moving.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[honey-minded-hivemind]

💿Reboot AU, Post One, Patient is the Night:

• The breeze is colder than you expected it to be today. It nips at your skin, at your nose, at your cheeks, at your eyes. It stings, as though someone tossed ice on you. But you keep going, taking the old cracked sidewalk to get to your destination.

• It's an old building, with many windows showing off antique tea sets and plates, Christmas trees and baubles, old lamps and costume jewelry, and different paintings and old furniture and knick knacks. The place has been there for as long as you can remember, with its dark green, chipped doors, it's slanted entrance, and it's lack of heating and air conditioning. The old place, the Bay Antique and Flea Market, has three floors: the ground floor, the basement, and the top floor. And inside are booths upon booths, with almost anything imaginable. It also happens happens be where you work.

• Entering the old building causes the bell above the door to ring, and you're greeted by a tired co-worker, who waves you off, letting you go to your section of the antique store. You pass many items, mostly old and vintage, only a few new things sticking out here and there in bright, mismatched colors. There's the large glass display case featuring silver spoons, different large and jeweled rings, mannequin parts displaying necklaces and bracelets on their black velvet shapes, and thimbles and cups and rare toys in protective casing. As you pass that, you slip by the clothing section, full of expensive old fur shawls and coats, old prom dresses as far back as the 60s, feathered and ostentatious hats, pointed heels, and old bows and ribbons and brooches. You turn sharply to the left, wea ing between large oak drawers and stained glass lamps, past the old porcelain cups and mugs and glass goblete and retro kitchen items, further past the fake fruits and oil paintings and old rocking horse, and then you reach the old metal stairs.

• You descend, gripping the middle railing as you go down, reaching the next set of stairs, taking the right set, and then you're in the basement area. Where the ground floor smelled of coffee and leather and old metal, down here smells like mothballs, dust, and old book pages. In the farthest room is a whole book section, with children's books from different decades, science and history and algebra books for homeschooling, ABC and Spanish and hymnals, even old Bibles and trashy romance novels. Next to that section are old costumes and skirts and dresses, donated by older teachers and grandparents and old theaters. You loop through the section, moving quickly past the football team mascot merch and old soda bottles and creepy dolls, and into a section you quite enjoy, amd where you usually stay: the Marvel section.

• You pop your back, then get to work. You start unpacking old comics, each in protective plastic, and categorize them into their appropriate sections. After that you're putting up random T-shirts, with different phrases or characters or motifs on them, from Disney to Deadpool to even chibi Avengers. Once that's over with, you sit down, taking a small break.

• That's when you notice the box

• It's on the display case/desk, worn and dented, with no address or writing, besides being addressed to someone that sounds like some odd hero or villain name. You feel a little put off by it, but with careful hands, you peel back the flaps...

• Huh. There are a few DVD cases, depicting different teenage and adult characters, with some title that includes X-Men. You feel puzzled looking it over, checking the cases and DVDs for damage, but oddly find none, not even a scratch on any of the discs or chipped plastic on the cases. You take a closer look at the title...

• X-Men: Evolution... except when you peer closer, it says by it "the Rebooted Series". Hmmm... You go through your thoughts, trying to think of what you know about any X-Men or Marvek media, but come up short. Huh. So. This could be an old series, one that became lost media. Or could be a fake version. Or it might even just be a prank by some dumb teenager. Well... You're curious, and you could use a good thing, so with that decided, you set up the old TV in your section.

• It takes a few tries, but you figure out the remote, soon turning on the old screen and setting it to AV. You open the case labeled as the first season, and take out the first disc... You shiver, feeling a purckling sensation along your back... but you shake it off, inserting the disc, then press the play button... The screen flickers, a small pop of static, then it sends you to the main menu... You hum lightly, pressing the play all option, and soon it winks out... And then it opens to the first episode, and you breathe out a sigh.

• You watch the first few episodes, enjoying the designs of each character, puzzling over undertones that there are secrets being kept, watching the teams form and dynamics be made, and you grin, a tired, warm tilt of your lips and a settled look in your eyes. It's a comfort, somehow, seeing the adult X-Men and Brotherhood members acting like odd mentors and parents, seeing the teens become friends and teammates, seeing the difference abilities and powers that bring them together... You find yourself feeling calmer somehow, and you soend the next few hours finishing the first season...

• You added a bit of commentary as you watched, and you tilted your head when the characters seemed to pause from time to time, or mentioned they were missing someone, or asked seemingly no one if they were watching, if they heard them, if they could remember what had happened... you feel a deep sadness at that, wondering who they're trying to reach, and what could possibly be wrong...

• Your dream is fuzzy around the edges, dark, as though blurred, but by what you don't know... something is speaking to you, or whoever you're supposed to be... they aren't kind, but your head can't remember what they're saying, it can't focus on what's happening... you feel pain, filling your veins then filling your heart and then filling your mind, drowning you under deep agony... there's a bright light, there's a sharp jolt through your chest, and then everything go numbs, voices settling, darkness swallowing everything whole...

• You jump, waking up. There's no one there... Your head feels weird, thick and groggy, as you struggle back to wakefulness. You can hear the muted voices from the TV, and let out a small breath. You're okay... You're fine... It's just a nightmare, it's just a dream, it can't hurt you...

• You look back at the screen, noting how the characters seemed to stare back for a moment... before resuming their conversation, a few sounding concerned while you started waking up.

• "-not okay, how do we know it's safe-" "-if we don't try now, we won't get another chance-!" "-settle down, please-" "-shhhhh, you woke them up!" "-remind them-" "-miss them-" "-it vill be okay, guys, it has to be-"

• You groan slightly, pulling yourself up to your full height. Your shoulders roll back, firm and strong, amd your legs carry you over to a small mini fridge. You squat down, yawning a little, and pick out a cold coffee. You pop back up, heading back to your seat, and take a minute to down your drink. Your sweater is soft, in a warm shade of brown, and your jeans are a dark gray. Your boots, short bit sporting heels, click together lightly as you bounce your leg a little to help you wake up. You finger your left ear a little, noting your three earrings are still there: a trio of dangling moonstones; a thin silver hoop; and a dark black stud, twinkling like a star. You rub at your eyes, then you're back to being awake.

• You look back at the screen, noting the characters are all getting ready for bed now, and you yawn. They have the right idea... You watch as the episode is finished, and soon the first season is done. You stretch as you get up, then stride over to the TV, popping out the disc, then setting it back in its case. You wander over to the worn box they came in, and sift through the remaining cases...

• There's at least... five, if not six, seasons... And while you really would like to start the second season right away... you think maybe taking a nap would be a good idea...

• "Night, guys... See ya in the morning..."

• As you lay your head back down, pillowing it on your arms, you think you almost hear something... but you're soon winking out, too tired to stay awake a second longer...

• "Night, Reader... we miss you..."

• The screen flickers once, twice... and then it fades out, a quick flash of eyes watching the sleeping teen, before it disappears...

@sugar-soda @vivid-bun @danni1323 @weebwholovesuchihasasuke @thewickedweiner @opossumdaydreamz @ainsellshadewalker @c0ld0utside (Welcome to 💿Reboot AU...)

[horridgoblin]

In Need of Comfort (Part 1)

For part 2, click here. Tags: Fluff, hurt/comfort, romance, SFW, Christmas AU set in Waterdeep, gender neutral Tav x Gale. Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, anxiety in a crowded place, sensory overload. Disclaimer: I’m currently in the middle of Act 2, and I'm yet to finish BG3, so this is where my knowledge of the game stands. No spoilers please!

The Market was charged with the energy of festive cheer, and you could not help but feel entirely out of place. Sounds overwhelmed you; the crowds made you wish you were invisible, and a persistent sadness refused to leave your soul. The Market of Castle Ward was spectacular, despite how you felt. Twinkling baubles, trinkets, and other valuables were displayed proudly in their vibrant stalls. The scent of spice filled the air, and chants of merchants advertising their wares filled the atmosphere with electricity. It was a lot to take in. You wanted desperately to reciprocate the joy of the season, especially because Gale was beaming with joy; talking for weeks about how excited he was to show you how the ‘City of Splendour’ celebrates Christmas. 

A gentle, warm touch of Gale’s hand deliberately brushing yours snapped you out of your thoughts. As you looked up, brown eyes full of adoration locked yours. You could not resist but to smile. Gale was dressed in his best winter finery fit for the occasion, swathes of deep purple wool keeping most of the cold at bay. The grey streaks in his curly brown hair glinted in the winter sunlight, his beauty ethereal. Your anxiety abated with his love, but you thought it best to not show how you felt to preserve his happiness. Gale was always putting others before himself, and you wanted more than anything for him to have happiness in his life.

“You look absolutely stunning my love,” Gale said, gently tucking stray locks of your hair behind your ear, “I know we have a firm agenda set for today, but is there anything that catches your eye? I want nothing more than to spoil you.”

“Gale, spending time with you is a gift enough, please don’t fret.”

“Alright, I won’t try and outdazzle this gift, but I may be purchasing you a trinket or two regardless.” He winked, kissing your forehead, his beard scratching you lightly. “The stall with the brandy mincemeat is over there,” he pointed towards a stall of green tarp with jars gleaming in the sunlight, neatly lined up and tied with delicate red ribbon, “I bet I could add a bit of pizazz to it with an enchantment or two, though this doesn’t mean making the pies explode in some grand display, unfortunately.” You laughed at the thought despite your growing anxiety as you both approached the stall, hand in hand.

Snowflakes began to flit down from the greying sky, their icy touch amplified by fear as they landed on your face. The Market was becoming increasingly crowded. Claustrophobia was setting in. You had a nagging feeling to give into your base instincts and to run far, far away and hide. Instead, you gripped Gale’s hand for support. Your anxiety came at you at full force, and it was dizzying, the stall in front of you feeling imposing. 

Concerned, Gale took you aside and put his hand gently on your shoulder, turning you to face him. He leaned to whisper to your ear. “Are you ok, my heart?” 

Shaking your head to say no, he planted a feather light kiss onto your cheek. “These crowds must be immensely overwhelming; I can tell that as much. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, darling.” You murmured, croaking as you struggled to speak.

“I’m afraid I must.” Gale insisted, “I think it's best if we leave, I cannot have you suffering.” He cupped your cheek with his hand. “Would you like that? To return home?”

You felt incredibly guilty and ashamed. He was looking forward to this for so long. “We can stay, we have to buy things for tonight.”

Seeing the sadness on your face, he said, “Don’t concern yourself with that any longer, I shall deal with this.”  Turning back to the stall, he placed a loving hand on the small of your back as he purchased two jars of mincemeat. “Perfect! We can do without the rest and have a splendid night together. Shall we head home?”

Putting aside your guilt at his insistence, you nodded. He knew you liked to appease others; it was why you could relate to each other so much. Your fatigue from sensory overload made it hard to refuse his suggestions. Snowfall began to intensify so much that it was difficult to see. Most of the crowd rushed for shelter away from the increasing cold, and the two of you sped to find a hire coach home.

[driftward]

Title: Gift Advice Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Estinien Varlineau. Regarding Riven de Fortemps Rating: Teen Summary: Estinien seeks advice from Zoissette, which is a little like the blind leading the blind, but at least they are blind together so there is that Notes: You'll want to be up to speed on @scrollsfromarebornrealm's body of work. In particular, this work is at least part of the context. ~*~

Estinien strode into the Gage Acquisitions vehicle bay, looking back and forth only briefly before looking up to espy his quarry.

“Zoissette. I was looking for you.”

Zoissette was high up, where one of the submersibles was suspended from the ceiling, with her suspended underneath it. She had a shirt tied around her waist, and looked over at Estinien as she reached into one of the many work pouches dangling off her belt.

“And you have found me. The first person today to do so without me having to yell down at them, in fact.”

“And how many of them were Ishgardian, I wonder?”

“Hmn. Point. Hardly anybody ever looks up, but we had dragons to contend with.”

“Indeed.”

Estinien watched as Zoissette swung around in her harness to access another part of the submersible, settling in before prying off a panel.

“I was hoping you might give me some advice. As a woman.”

“My first bit of advice is to ask someone else. I am crap at being a woman.”

Estinien snorted with a smile. “Despite that, you have insight and experience that I lack. And besides, you are courting a woman very much like my own. Perhaps one with a more vexatious temperament, but no less fiery a spirit.”

“I am telling both of them you said that.”

“Tell them what you wish, I have told no lies.”

Zoissette flipped her goggles up. “This is serious, then?”

“Indeed.”

“Alright. Give me a moment, I need to set the sump to drain.”

Estinien watched as she reached deep into the panel she had just opened, a hose in one hand, leaning way in to do her work. Her free hand occasionally went for her tool pouch as she did her work.

“I did not realize you had picked up the wrench.”

“I wanted to be useful,” she replied. “And my aether is still blocked. Maybe I work around that. Maybe I get used to being support. Right now, I am useful.”

“Thancred manages.”

“I know.”

The hose she was holding was transparent, and Estinien could see a black fluid begin to flow through it as she leaned back from her work. They both watched as it flowed down, slowly but surely, until it made its way down to a tub.

Apparently satisfied, Zoissette pulled the harness up until she abandoned it to perch on top of the submarine instead.

“So, what is on your mind?”

“As you may have guessed, this is about my lady, Riven.”

“I am still listening. Go on,” she said, as she began to inspect one of the submersible’s lenses.

“I had hoped… well. I had rather hoped for a lot of things, in our relationship. But just now, I was hoping to make a gesture that she would appreciate. Something romantic. And also, something that would help me feel a bit more… grounded, as I travel.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“No less than a token, similar to that which Y’shtola gifted to you. I see you wear it even now” 

Zoissette smiled softly, and wiped one of her hands free of grease off on a cloth tied around her waist, before reaching up to lightly touch her fingers to the twin black carnations on her ear.

“But rather more similar to what Thancred shared with Aeryn. I look upon it, and I feel a sense of… longing, to have something like that of my own.”

“There is a story around that bracelet, you know. Maybe ask Thancred about that rather than Urianger.”

“I am aware of the history of that particular bauble and its implications. I intend to make my own story of the matter. A bracelet, between her and me. A show of devotion, and a reminder for me of what we have. I also believe she would appreciate it.”

“That sounds nice. Why do you want my advice, again?”

“On the matter of how I present it. I wish to have this … discussion… with her as I present the bracelet, to make sure I do not overstep my bounds as Thancred nearly did, to hear the tale. But I do want the matter and the moment itself to be meaningful. It seems like as not that there will be much travel in our future. I was considering presenting it during a voyage. Make a bit of a pleasant surprise out of the matter. Perhaps with a sunrise as an appropriate backdrop. I sense there is some poetry in presenting it during dawn while we both travel.”

Zoissette bit her lip as she stopped what she was doing, and turned her full attention to Estinien.

“Like, on a ship?”

“Aye.”

Zoissette set her tools down, and frowned. Estinien found a spot of wall to lean against, and made himself comfortable. He was well aware of the tells when Zoissette was thinking. She might well be a minute.

“Estinien.”

“Aye.”

“You know how sometimes you get a feeling, deep in your chest, and that feeling gets to be too big for you, and it feels like it is going to overwhelm you, and it pushes you to do something, do anything?”

Estinien grunted. “Often enough.”

“Right. And you usually handle it by taking to the clouds.”

He felt defensive, a bit. “It helps me to gain distance from a situation, and gives me time to clear my head.”

“Okay. Now imagine you cannot take to the skies for whatever reason. Or maybe you can, but you cannot stay away up there, because there is only one tiny little speck of land you can survive on, and you are going to have to go right back to it, and right back to where you had that big feeling and have it all over again except now it is worse because you know, you know, you cannot escape.”

Zoissette sat cross-legged on the submarine hull, and with an elbow on her knee rested her head in her hand as she watched his face carefully.

“Do you really want to do that to Riven?”

Oh.

Now that she had pointed it out, it did seem kind of obvious. Estinien sunk his face slowly into his palm, and groaned at himself.

“Aye, I… see your point.”

“Maybe just talk to her.”

“I had hoped for the surprise, to make the moment seem more special. That feels important to me. I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”

“You do realise Shtola asked me, right? I well and truly do not know what I am doing. Oh. Huh. She has… taken the initiative on a lot of our malmstones, actually. I should rectify that.”

Zoissette dug out a journal from one of her pouches and began to scribble in it.

“Maybe I could ask the Lord Fortemps for his advice. He treats with her as a daughter.”

“Counter suggestion. Maybe you could ask one of her sworn brothers. They know her better than anyone.”

Estinien grimaced. “We have a history, and this may be a moment where they may offer mischief, especially given that it concerns Riven. They can be fiercely protective of her, and given that history, I cannot say as I blame them.”

“Well, you are a dragoon, are you not? If they give you trouble, just have a good old knock down drag out fight with them and make up as best buddies afterward. I have it on good authority that is how the Fury’s misbegotten children sort out their differences.”

She grinned at him, and he barked out a laugh in response.

“This from the Holy Ground Corps that is too good for real fighting? Not all of them are dragoons, though, as well you know, and I would prefer not to antagonize them further. Though… do you think that would work?”

“I think it would make incredible Gil in the betting pool.”

“I forgot about your terrible love for the numbers of games.”

Zoissette just shrugged cheerfully, and turned her attention to inspecting another submarine lens. Estinien settled in to watch her for a bit, and eventually she stopped to stare at the ceiling.

Thinking again. She always did get so lost in the details. Well, that was why he had come here to her. Anyone could have pointed out the problems in his plans. She was like to give him solutions that he could work.

“Try them anyroad. Sebastian is your best bet, I think. I suspect he is least likely to be bull headed on the matter. Or if you like, I can talk to him on your behalf, get his insights for how she might feel about the matter.”

“I think I would prefer to fight my own battles.”

Zoissette nodded. “Try asking him, then. He is Sharlayan, though, so he likes to act like he knows everything. Try to look past that, compensate for some of his assumptions, and you can find good guidance in what he says. He will likely have his own suggestions as well. At the very least, he is most likely to steer you away from trouble.”

“And courting Y’shtola, I suppose you would know a great deal about dealing with a ‘know-it-all’.”

“Oh, I think Y’shtola only speaks precisely to what she knows. With her it is more of a problem that she thinks she knows the best of anyone in the room.”

“I am not sure I see the difference.”

Zoissette just gave him a little side smile, and Estinien decided perhaps some depths were best left unplumbed by the likes of him.

“For what it is worth,” she said, “I believe she is getting better at sharing. Not just her knowledge, but the burden of… responsibility, I guess? Hard to say precisely what I am trying to mean. But she is not like she used to be.”

“Are any of us? But I do appreciate your candor. And your willingness to speak plainly with me, even if my ideas are foolish.”

Zoissette stopped what she was doing, and looked over at Estinien.

“I want to be sappy for a moment. Is that okay with you?”

Estinien shrugged. “It makes no difference to me, but if that is to be the price of your advice, I pay it gladly.”

Zoissette nodded. “I appreciate ... this. You are one of the few people on the star I feel like I can really talk to. Not making assumptions about what I should or should not know, not taking offense just because I say something true.”

“Hmph. Unlike many who profess to truth, yours is never delivered with malevolence.”

“I am glad you understand.”

“As well as anyone could understand you, I think. Well, then. I thank you for your advice, and I believe I shall be taking my leave now. Good luck with that witch of yours. I suspect you’ll be needing it.”

Zoissette shifted around to make eye contact with Estinien, and gave him an honest, genuine smile.

“Goodbye, Estinien,” she said, her tone no less honest in its fondness.

Estinien bowed, and turned to pull on the lever that opened the hatch leading back out of the vehicle bay. He returned Zoissette’s look with a faint fond smirk of his own.

“Take care… Lady Vauban,” he said, chuckling as he quickly closed the hatch just in time to hear the clang of Zoissette’s wrench against it as she threw it.

[heliads]

Request for Clove x reader! Y/N is a young peacekeeper in their home district, District 2, by the time the rebellion reaches its borders. As the source of many of Panem’s peacekeeper recruits and the District with the closest ties to the Capitol, it’s no surprise D2 is the last one still controlled by loyalists… Fortunately, if Y/N defects, their inside knowledge could help the rebels gain more ground. It’s also a personal thing, the perfect opportunity to retaliate against the Capitol for indirectly causing their girlfriend’s death. UNfortunately however, on the night Y/N planned to defect to the rebels, they are suddenly plagued with second thoughts. Fears of the future. The consequences of turning away from their life’s calling as a Peacekeeper, betraying D2 values they’ve been taught since childhood, in order to see a new Panem where all-powerful men no longer reign and the Games no longer exist. There is no ever going back from treason; win or lose, they’ll have to commit to the rebellion until the very end. Y/N’s terror refuses to fade, so Clove’s ghost — a victim of a lifetime’s indoctrination, regrettably molded into a Career Tribute eager for glory — shows up to nudge them towards a decision. How much of her motivation is simply “I don’t want you to end up on the losing side” lol. Maybe their reunion is real, maybe it’s a dream after Y/N accidentally dozed off, that’s up to you! .…. okayyy so this may be a little too much, i’m sorry if I went overboard! Of course, feel free to add or remove any details you want! One last thing, can there be an exchange of “I love you” or “I’ll always love you” between Y/N and Clove before Y/N leaves Thank you very much in advance!!!

anon...this idea is incredible...bless you for giving me such exquisite angst inspo

masterlist

The silence lets you know that it’s time to leave. It has been unfathomably loud this entire time, booming noises and crashing dins ever since the war began. You’ve been doing your best to tune it out, but your attempts were never met with much success. Maybe it’s because you knew you could never really pretend that the earth shattering explosions weren’t there. It is impossible to ignore the war, even when you’ve got your head so far buried in the sand that you’re choking on the force of the lies.

Perhaps you tried so hard to pretend everything was fine because it had always worked before. The Capitol had protected you all your life, how could you not follow the scent of their riches like a guiding lantern through the dark? Even as the light reflected off of the sight of gaudy baubles that could pay for enough food for your entire family for months, you still thought that the glow was worth chasing. You always had.

Everyone had. In District Two, the Capitol is everything. You’ve heard it said before that Two is the closest thing the Capitol’s ever had to a friend amongst the rest of the districts. While the rest are busy throwing fits and holding revolts over things they’ll never be able to change, Two stays strong. That is the way of the world, you suppose, Two holding firm while everyone else crumbles to ash.

It’s certainly what the Capitol would like you to believe, at any rate. There’s a big chance that it was never true in the slightest. The rest of the districts could have been just as stringent loyalists, making Two just as ordinary as the others. Were it not for the fact that you’ve watched years worth of Hunger Games and been able to notice just how visible the starving bones of the other contestants are as compared to your golden, glowing tributes, it might almost be real.

Right now, Two’s fortitude might be the honest truth. The revolution has been baying at your doorstep for quite some time now. It was always coming, even if no one wanted to admit it. There was no way that the rebels with their stolen guns and bloody screams could ever ignore you for long. To topple Two was to bring the war to the very gates of the Capitol. Your home district was just one grand domino to be taken down before the finale.

You would have hated that thought once. You’ve been a Peacekeeper for a few years now, one of their best and brightest. It’s difficult to ascend in this career field due to the widespread corruption and the irresistible allure of a good bribe or two, but you’ve managed to make it work nonetheless. People have always wondered what gave you the spirit to keep going, but no one has ever figured it out. Can you keep a secret? It’s the same reason that you have to leave tonight.

It’s because of Clove.

There is a girl buried in foreign soil some miles away from you, if they ever bothered to bury her at all. They did not bring back Clove’s corpse to you, not in a way that they could ever recognize. You saw what happened in the Games, how those mutts looked eerily like past competitors. You don’t know what they did to Clove, your Clove, but whatever became of her body is in no way available to you.

Clove was the best of you. You can say that with a free conscience. It might be one of the only truths capable of being spoken without regret. Clove studied her entire damn life to win the Games, and she didn’t. There is no greater failure than that. Never mind the fact that she did everything right, that she killed everyone in her path and made alliances with the finest fighters there. In the end, Clove didn’t make it out, and that is akin to treachery in the eyes of everyone but you.

Some part of you wonders if no one talks about Clove’s death because no one expected it to happen. When Cato and Clove were reaped, everyone in Two clasped hands over ill-bought drinks and grinned to themselves over the thought of another Games victory in their laps. It was impossible that either of them would not win. The thought had not occurred to anyone but you.

You were terrified when you first heard that your girlfriend was entered into the Games. You had rushed to find Clove the moment visitors were admitted to the newly reaped tributes, hardly aware of anything but the pounding in your head. You believed in Clove more than anything, but even the microscopic chance that something might go wrong was far too much for you to bear. After all, you loved her, and sometimes that’s enough to rob you of any trust left in the world.

Clove told you not to worry. She wasn’t afraid in the slightest, you could see it in her face. As you watched, her eyes lit up with the thrill of the challenge. Two weeks and she’d be back with her laurels, she promised you. If you were good, she might even let you stay in her house in the Victor’s Village when she returned.

It was a joke, of course, and one made in good fun. Everyone in Two knew that Clove couldn’t go anywhere without you. The two of you were inseparable on the training field, in the streets, in your homes. The thought that she would ever live without you by her side was unthinkable.

It made no sense, then, that Clove would go and die and leave you alone forever. You saw her death on the screens with absolutely no preparation. It came out of nowhere. One moment, Clove had her knife to Katniss Everdeen’s throat, ready for another successful kill, and then Thresh appeared out of the blue and smashed her skull in with a stone. 

She fell like an angel, wings cut by bloody palms. You had the perfect view as that spark of adrenaline blinked out of her eyes. Clove called out to someone before she went, you think. The audio from the recording made it seem as if she was screaming out to Cato before she died, but you watched her lips and you saw another word spoken aloud:  Y/N. You. Unreachable, but somehow still the one she wanted before she went.

The Capitol wanted Two’s classic loyalty to stay firmly ensconced in the depths of the Games, so they edited you out of Clove’s story. In the end, you wonder if anyone will ever remember you with her, or if Clove will go down in district history as the solitary paragon of every virtue they had ever worshiped by knifepoint. Will your memory die with her? Perhaps, love, perhaps.

Clove was supposed to live, of that you were certain. You cannot even blame Thresh for throwing the stone, nor Katniss for being so damn good at inspiring loyalty that she could convince anyone to fight her battles for her. In the end, they were just kids trying to survive. Is anyone truly guilty of such an act?

Your anger, then, was towards the Capitol. Clove stuck by their rules, and what did her perfection bring her but death? Fine, then. If they want death, you will bring it to their door. The rebels arrived some months ago, this time not by force but by way of lightly creeping footsteps and secrets. They were scouting out potential allies. As it turned out, you would be one of them.

You did not anticipate switching sides at the beginning. You were fully prepared to die for Two. It would connect you to Clove one last time, if nothing else, and the thought of betraying the Capitol after all you have done for them was unthinkable.

The rebels’ arguments were good, though, and you know why they were so keen on appealing to you. As a Peacekeeper, you have access to information that the rebels would kill to have. If they could manage to convince you to join their side, they could gain a much needed advantage just before their fight brought them to the Capitol. With you, they can win.

Tonight’s silence marks your time to leave. There’s an informant waiting for you in the wilderness surrounding District Two. If you can manage to get there without being noticed, they can lead you to the rebels and you’ll have made your choice for good. You think you made your decision some time ago when the girl you loved died, but it’s something entirely different to commit to it like this.

It’s starting to gnaw at you, the weight of what you’re doing. You are turning your back on the Capitol for good, and by extension your district, your home. Your family are still staunch believers in the Capitol. They were the first ones to congratulate you when you first joined the Peacekeepers. Like you, they bitterly mourned Clove’s death. Unlike you, their faith in Snow was never shaken.

Are you the problem, then? If everyone around you has no problem with the way the district is run, why should you raise a different concern? Your entire life has boiled down to following the whims of the Capitol. Who are you to be so hurt by this war that you would turn your back on everything?

After all, that is what treason means:  no more home, not until the war is won. You help the rebels crush Snow beneath their bloody heels or you die. There are only two ways you could ever return to District Two once you leave it. You’ll either be a victorious rebel or a dying martyr. Triumph or execution, those are your fates. For once, there is no Capitol-issued road map directing you as to which choice you could make, which is of course why you’re having such trouble with it now.

Your shoulders shake. The house is dark. No one else is here; you bought your own place with your Peacekeeper earnings, so there’s no one here to suspect you. Only the shadows watch and listen, only the restless pacing of your feet indicates that there might be someone here.

Then again, perhaps you aren’t so alone after all. The moonlight shines through a window onto a wrinkled photograph that’s been attached to a nearby wall. The pearlescent glow falls onto the face of a girl who’s been lost to time. It makes her eyes shine again, and although you haven’t seen them move in quite some time, you swear they wink at you now.

You shouldn’t be this indecisive, you know. Make up your mind and go.

It would be just like her to say such things, wouldn’t it? Clove always had a quicker temper than you. She’d snap like a wire in the second, forever the first one to attack. You have a thousand memories of her charging at you, knife in hand, ready to take you down. No matter how many rounds you went, she always came up swinging. Always. Always, until the one time she didn’t.

“It’s not half that easy,” you complain aloud, “I am throwing away my entire life on a feeble hope that this might pay off. It’s not something I can decide in a moment.”

Then make it something you can decide in a moment. You have no time to waste. If you get caught trying to decide which side, that’ll be the most stupid way you could ever die.

“I’d see you, then. Wouldn’t it be worth it?”

Clove’s ghost scoffs in your mind. It’s been more than a year since you saw her last, but you can still replay the echo of her derisive laugh in the back of your mind. Boots scuffing on a wooden floor, a knife sharpened on a whetstone, you can hear her everywhere you go.

Don’t play the martyr, it was never your best trick. You already know what you’re doing, don’t you? Just make up your mind and go along with it for once. There’s nothing left for you here.

You let out a sound halfway between a gasp and a laugh. “Not you? My whole life is here. Everything we ever built was in Two. You think I can leave it just like that?”

I did.

It’s said simply.

I did, and look where it got me. I chose the wrong side.

“You chose the Capitol.”

It chose me.

That’s the truth, isn’t it? Clove was a product of the Capitol in every single way. She was molded into a Career from the moment she was born. All of you have been harboring some illusion of self control, but there is none in this world, not really. You do your best to survive on the path that has been given to you, and if the thought occurs to you that you will live and die without ever making progress, you make the sound of violence in your head so loud that everything else is drowned out.

“So what, you want to protect me? Keep me from following in your footsteps?”

I want you to win.

It’s said with the usual sort of savage sneer that Clove had always mastered so well. You bite back a laugh despite the circumstances.

“That’s generous of you. Tell me, does your superior advice go any deeper than for me to stay on the winning side?”

It’s all we’ve ever needed. What, do you suddenly need a moral compass to guide you? It’s not like either of us ever had such a thing as a conscience.

She’s not wrong. You and Clove were the deadliest pair to ever hit Two. The district swore that its children grew more and more bloodthirsty with every subsequent generation, and the two of you certainly proved that right. That changed when you lost her, though. You couldn’t keep up the spirit when it was just you.

“I didn’t need it when I had you.”

You still do.

Neither of you were much built for kindness. This rare scrap of it now makes you want to cry and scream at the same time. In the end, you decide to use it as motivation to stand up and straighten your spine.

“They’re waiting for me,” you whisper. It’s not a goodbye. You don’t think you could manage it anymore.

I’ll watch your back.

You swear you can hear her smile. The two of you always had each other’s sixes when training for a fight. Even now, when you’re running to reach the rebels before you get shot by the other Peacekeepers, she’ll keep up the familiar rhythm. It’s enough to convince you what the right choice will always be.

“I’m going to miss you. I already do.”

I’m still with you, obviously. You’ll find me soon enough. I’ll wait.

You take one last shuddering sigh and walk over to the wall where her picture hangs. You tear it down with trembling fingers. Once the light is off of the photo, her eyes no longer shine, and you realize that time has long since dulled all details of her usually sharp countenance.

“I’ll always love you,” you say, and leave. The house is empty when you go. 

Outside, the sky splits with alternating stars and plumes of smoke from errant bombs. The earth shakes with every other step. The silence is long gone now, but your window of time is not yet up. Your run becomes more sure with every growing second, and soon enough you’re slipping away from Two and into the unnameable wilderness. The fire in the sky above grows, engulfing your old world.  

If there are any ghosts watching your progress, they grin to see you finally make your stand. Tomorrow, Two will wake up and learn that the last of its believers has abandoned it. The war will come, its hope will fall. You will be there to see it crumble.

hunger games tag list: @w1shes43

[vickysaurus]

Gwendolyn: "What the heck was that? I thought you were in the Healing Coven, not the Bauble Brigade!"

Healer: "Mrs. Clawthorne, we have never seen a curse quite like this. I'm not sure it can be healed. Perhaps if we consult the Potions Coven, they may know a way to keep it at bay."

"Keep it at bay? Oh, no. My daughter is suffering and I want that thing out! Cut it out if you have to!"

"Edalyn, I'm taking you to someone else.... Huh?"

[genevievemd]

A Special Gift

Book: Open Heart (Beyond) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Genevieve McClure) Word Count: 785 Rating: G Category: fluff Trope(s): 

Summary: Gen and Ethan have a special gift for their parents on Christmas morning. 

Warnings: none

A/N: Shoutout to @coffeeheartaddict2​ for helping me figure out how far along G would be come Christmas 2023. You’re a real MVP

Also this little ficlet is another entry for @choicesficwriterscreations​ Holiday Event! 

December 25, 2023 

She watches the snow fall outside the kitchen window, mentally cataloguing how beautiful her hometown is when covered in a fresh blanket of snow. And of course, how magical it is to have a white Christmas. 

They had decided last year to spend this Christmas in Maine with her family, for the first time in almost five years. Her mother had insisted that Alan join them as well, and if Natalie wasn’t back in Boston almost 9 months pregnant and unable to attend, it would be the first time Genevieve had her whole family together in one place in over a decade. 

She can hear Ethan in the living room of her childhood home, talking quite loudly and happily with their fathers. Their laughter bounces off the walls and it warms her heart. 

Gen had everything she’s ever wanted and more. 

On its own accord, her hand travels down to her stomach. She and Ethan had found out a week ago that she was pregnant with their first, after almost seven months of trying. Gen had almost given up hope that it would happen without medical intervention, but then after a fainting spell at work and quick blood test, she and Ethan got the news they’d been hoping for since May. 

“Hey Mom, before Henry, Clara and the kids get here, Ethan and I wanted to give you, Dad and Alan a special gift.” Gen turns to her mom, still washing and putting away their breakfast dishes. None the wiser to the secret her daughter was about to spill. 

“Oh? What is it?” Marie puts the dish towel down, her full attention on Genevieve. 

“Come in the living room.” 

Marie follows her into the living room, Ethan and Gen sharing a knowing look as they enter the room.

“Come sit here.” Ethan stands, gesturing to the couch. He quickly walks over to the tree to grab two small boxes. 

“What’s going on?” Alan looks at his in-laws and then at his son, curiosity on his aging face. “Are we in trouble?” 

“If anyone is, it’s probably me.” Robert joins Alan in laughter, the two getting an eyeroll from her mother. 

“Stop it.” Marie playfully hits her husband’s arm, before once again giving her daughter her full attention. “I’m ready for my present.”

“You and Robert are sharing one.” Ethan happily hands Marie a gift and the other to his father. He moves away to stand at Gen’s side, as if he could tell she was nervous.  Her arm coming around her waist and pulling her tightly against him.

“Open them.” Gen’s voice trembles, her eyes watering as she watches the soon to be grandparents rip at the wrapping paper.  

Within seconds Marie lifts up a handmade ornament and then screams, the plastic bauble falling to the floor. “Oh, honey! Really?” She runs over to Gen and gathers her in a tight hug. 

Now it was impossible for Gen to keep the tears at bay, looking over her mom’s shoulder to her husband. Who was all smiles himself, waiting anxiously for his dad to read his own ornament. 

“Ethan, this is...” Alan smiles widely, standing to embrace his only child. “I’m gonna be a grandpa!” 

“How far along are you?” Marie pulls away from Gen, full of tears of joy as well. 

“About 8 weeks, so, it’s still early.” Gen places a hand on her stomach and reaching for Ethan again. “We aren’t telling anyone else until after my first trimester, but we wanted to tell you three.” 

“We won’t say a word.” Alan pats Ethan on the shoulder, sniffling. “A family of your own?” 

“Yes. Never thought you’d see the day, did you?” Ethan can’t help but laugh, knowing it wasn’t long ago that his father was convinced Ethan would never settle down completely. 

“I did not.” Alan moves to pull Genevieve into a hug, the pair sharing a tear smile. “Congrats, to you both.”

“Thank you, Alan.” 

After a few more moments of more tearful hugs and excited cheers, the five of them settle on the couch and love seat. Gen and Ethan offering their parents all the details they know, the prospective due date of August 4th and the slightly dramatic ordeal of how they found out themselves. And all of them full of smiles. 

Though it all still felt like a dream to her, and that Gen would wake up any moment in her and Ethan’s Boston apartment with no baby in site. But it was real, and her husband’s hand in hers and pregnancy test on the counter back at their home was the proof. 

They were having a baby, and their Christmases would never be the same again. 

A/N: I think this will be my last Christmas fic for the year, I might do a NYE one but we’ll see. 

Hope you’re all having a wonderful holiday!

[selastheblue]

Not So Paradise Afterall

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Peering into the keyhole of the front door of her new property Dahlia frowned, "It doesn't look broken, but the key isn't turning. You're sure it's the right key?"

Standing behind her, Nils was also frowning, "I'm sure it is. Positive. It goes to the backdoor and shop door too. Lets try it on those before we consider calling a locksmith." And with a nod from Dahlia the two of them walked to the shop entry on the right side of the front of the building.

Thankfully this door was much more yielding, and while it took some jostling and a little prayer to have the key turn, once it did the door creaked open ominously. Beyond was a large poorly lit room, with only the front bay window as its only source of light. A counter was visible at the far end, with a closed door behind it. To the left side of the room piled high was an assortment of very old furniture that reached out about halfway into the space, and along the wall a built in shelf covered in all kinds of oddities and baubles.

With a light cough as he and Dahlia entered, Nils commented, "Ah well, spose it would be dusty wouldn't it?"

Dahlia walked in slowly, and paused by the counter, eyeing the disturbed dust there, "And look here. Rat tracks disturbing the dust. I'll need to see if I can get some traps." She dragged her finger through the layer of grey before wiping it off on her pants, and suddenly sneezing.

Nils however was more interested in the furniture piled into the corner, beelining for it before inspecting an old rocker. "You know you could probably clean some of these up and sell them. They look like they are in good condition."

"Oh yeah?" She asked, walking nearer to the pile, "Think they're worth anything, or just old junk?"

"Well maybe with a new coat of varnish, and some sanding. But most of these are really detailed, and might have some history to them. Like this one here has got the old Silverbark Logging symbol on it." He touched a small desk near the front, then their attention was suddenly diverted by a knock on the front door!

"No one should know we're here..." Dahlia commented, confused eyes meeting a matching pair from Nils. After a pause the knock repeated, and she walked to the door with Nils behind her. With a creak that could wake the dead did she open the door to be greeted by a face she didn't expect to see today, but a familiar one all the same.

"Taylor?" She spoke, stunned and blinking up at the very tall man, "Wait what are you doing here?"

Height wasn't Taylor's most defining feature, that would have been his deep red skin, and the matching horns that sprung out of his black seemingly perpetually greasy hair. And the tail. The tail was a bit odd as well. Teiflings weren't unheard of in this part of Barscaroth, but were certainly uncommon. As far as Dahlia knew he was the only resident one in Slumberton.

He also unfortunately had a bit of a reputation. Among the folk that attended the markets there were claims he was a thief, a wallet snatcher. Dahlia had once overheard that he had been caught trying to sneak into the Downy Dream Inn's cellar after-hours. And then of course there were the numerous accusations of him 'seducing' people's sons or daughters with his 'devil magic'.

Dahlia of course knew most of that to be only rumors and conjecture based solely on his happenstance of birth. If she had been asked to describe him she would have gone with words like dramatic, impulsive, funny, mischievous, and friend.

"What am I doing here? Darling, what are you doing here in this old abandoned shack?" He replied immediately, "I caught you heading inside with this old man, and feared the worst!"

"Old!?" Nils piped up, offended as he eyed this unexpected visitor up and down. Dressed in a cream colored shirt and well fitted trousers with red lilies embroidered around the left hip, Dahlia's own work.

While her elder cousin was embarrassed and offended Dahlia smiled and laughed at her friend's crassness, "He's not that old, Taylor! This is my cousin, Nils Bryant. And this 'shack' is mine now, I guess?" A part of her was still processing the immense gift.

"Yours? Where the hells did you get the coin for somethin' like this?" Taylor asked, quite surprised at her explanation, his cinder-glowing eyes opening wide.

"A family friend passed recently. He left it to me. Would you like to come inside? We were just taking stock of things. Cousin Nils does carpentry work and will be helping my fix the place up." She stepped aside a bit more, giving room for her friend to enter even as she pretended not to see Nils' scowl in her direction.

Stepping inside the red fellow had to duck to avoid hitting the door frame and yet still there was a little skrit sound as his horns barely scraped the wood.

"I think I'll take you up on that. Thank you, dear." He thanked her sweetly, even as Nils gave him the stink eye. "Oh my, that is a bit of a mess, isn't it?" And he strode confidently over to the piled furniture and shelf. Something caught his eye and quick as a biting snake his hand whipped up and out, snatching something off an upper shelf that Dahlia and Nils could hardly see.

With a delighted grin Taylor cupped his hands, obscuring from them what he had snatched, "Well isn't this just precious?"

Walking over to stand next to him Dahlia asked, "What did you find?"

"Something quite delightful, I'm afraid." And he opened his hands for her to see, revealing a taxidermied mouse. It was dressed in a tiny plaid vest with a chimneysweep's hat, and it had been posed to hold a smoking pipe in one paw.

Dahlia's giggle erupted suddenly and gently plucked the stuffed mouse from Taylor's hand, "Terribly delightful, I'm afraid!"

Taylor scoffed as she copied his more formal and flowery language, "Hey I found it first, finders keepers?"

"You want the creepy stuffed mouse corpse? Suuure...." and she placed it back in his hand.

"You just said it was delightful!" He laughed accusatorily, smiling as he inspected it once more.

But Dahlia just shrugged, "It can be morbid, creepy, and weirdly cute." Then she stepped over, opening the door to the kitchen and peering inside, "Oh hey this is a nice little cozy kitchen!"

Nils followed her quickly through the door, while Taylor first gave a glance around the main shop space, a feeling of being observed unshakeable. Shaking his head he turned and promptly whacked his head into the doorframe.

"Fuckin' hells....." he grumbled, then ducked to fit his head and horns, closing the door to the front of the first floor a little more forcefully than was really necessary.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Shaken to his bones as the door slammed shut, leaving only the most dread inducing silences, Flicker remained frozen there on the shelf where merely a minute ago he had nearly been snatched up by that terrifying red bean.

When the front door of the building had screamed announcing entry Flicker was dumbfounded, and froze right to where he stood on the uppermost shelves behind stacks of old furniture. Seeing the beans lumber around before that loud knock that must've echoed through the house. He had hoped desperately that they would leave, and never come back, but the things they spoke of... they shattered his once dream of having this place just for himself and his colony.

Flicker had briefly debated fleeing the room while the beans attended the door, but when that towering red one stepped into sight he didn't dare move an inch. The horned head of the fellow lined up perfectly with the shelf Flicker stood on, and any movement would attract attention.

So there he stood as the beans voices thundered around him, and the red one strolled ever nearer. Nearer, and nearer until those burning pupils landed on that upper shelf, scanning it. Suddenly, quicker then an bean should ever move the great grasping fingers reached up like pillars of saffron horror. Time seemed to stop, all his muscles had seized, his breath was stolen by the open hand that dwarfed him.

But it didn't come for him, but the small decorative mouse he stood near to. The fingers that could snap him in half without consideration snatched the figurine and the moment that seemed to last as an infinite horror was quite quickly past, as the beans discussed the object.

Not hardly a minute later they had moved on to the kitchen, leaving Flicker to collect his smashed illusions. Taking it all in was a lot, but as he heard the sound of shoes on stairs a new horror crept into his heart. His colony!! His friends were only in a desk afterall. A desk the beans might very well try and open or worse, take from the house!

That got his feet moving with all speed, as he bolted over to the small hole in the wood paneled wall. Within he had been hard at work with his fellows to try and build out a traversable network of passages. Floors, walls, ceilings all with nails as ladders, or walkways over great chasms that descended several levels, some perhaps even down to the cellar itself.

From below him as he climb he could still hear their voices, that red one was especially loud as there was some kind of yell, or cheer?

They're in the basement, I can get the colony to the attic crawlspace, or maybe in the wall-tunnels. he decided as he practically flew up the nail rungs, I'm such an idiot, we should have never come here...

The wayfinder stopped and turned, reaching to pull himself up to another set of nail ladders, before slipping in through the back of the desk to a huddle of panicked faces.

From the other side of the huddled group Wick scowled at him and growled, "You didn't say anything about beans."

"I didn't know." He responded a bit lamely, "You can complain at me later. We need to get everyone into the wall, and all our stuff. Anything that would make it obvious we were here."

"Are you kidding we don't have time to mov-" Wick started to argue before he was promptly shushed by Pint, Pestle and Caramel.

The latter of which took charge, "Food, tools and personal stuff first. Then we come back. Flick, keep an ear out and warn us when the beans come upstairs. Wick, cut down the ladders there." And Caramel pointed to the toothpicks that had been tied together to make ladders to the upper half of the rolltop desk.

And the colony leapt to their tasks! Bodies moving in a buzz as Flicker headed back out and into the wall, only to stop near a knot hole in the wooden paneling near the floor of the second level's hallway. A perfect view of the staircase landing.

With twelve steps up the staircase Flicker knew that by the time the beans got to the top of the stairs he would be able to dash up the nail ladder next to him and be at the hold in the back of the rolltop desk. All was quiet for several minutes but as the first step creaked loudly, Flicker didn't hesitate, climbing with all haste!

Creak

Creak

Creak

Creak

Creak

One set of steps up the stairs. But then... silence? Flicker paused. Listening for any more steps as he hung off the final rung, inches from the hole. Then far closer then he would have liked he heard the creaking of a door opening, the door to the room his friends were in!

They were smart enough to leave the rolltop desk down, so that would buy a bit of time, but as he arrived at the opening he saw only three of his fellow borrowers remaining in the desk. Cuppa, Pestle, and Stem. They all looked up at Flicker with nervous expressions. They heard the bean in the room, footsteps creaking the floors with each slow and methodical steps.

Gesturing to be quiet with a pointer finger across his lips Flicker slunk into the desk, picking up what he could even as he pointed to the hole in the back. The others nodded, and did their best to move quietly, though they were no wayfinders being so small and contained in a closed desk what sounds they did made Flicker was sure were muffled and inaudible outside.

Just as Cuppa neared the hole, the last to depart besides Flicker himself, was there a muttered bean voice from outside. "What a fine desk. Wonder if its got anything-"

Flicker recognized it as the red bean's voice, and as the front of the desk was jostled Cuppa gasped. The sound was so loud she dropped what she was holding to cover her ears and cower, until Flicker shot over to her side. Hoping that the noise covered his footsteps and the bag of seeds Cuppa dropped Flicker helped her to stand, and pushed her through the hole into Pestle's arms, tossing the seed bag in after her.

Then he turned back and glanced at what was left in the desk that might give them away. Anything he could grab quickly. He spotted a backpack, forgotten in the hurry, and a cloak hung on the side. He bolted for the backpack first, right dead center of the desk.

"Hah, well see about that\~" the bean's voice whispered just outside, a chuckle echoing into the desk as the chair outside creaked. He had become seated. Then Flicker heard a sound he didn't immediately recognize, a scratching, scraping metal on metal. And then the Wayfinder's eyes grew wide, and he bolted this time not to the cloak, but to one of the drawers. While the hole was open, he didn't think he would make it in time.

And his instincts were correct.

"You see mister lock, you didn't stand a ghost of a chance." The smug voice of the red bean purred, filling the space, "Now anything interesting?" He mused to himself, and Flicker flinched as he heard a nearby drawer open.

"Cotton? Well odd, but I suppose? Ah, for holding jewelry, certainly." He reasoned as Flicker quietly wiggled to be below all the cotton blankets. His last line of defense against this bean's probing eyes...! Then another drawer opened, and another..!

They drew nearer and nearer until Flicker made out nearing footsteps, and the red fellow greeted someone, "In here, darling, come take a peek at this!"

And the woman replied, "Something interesting?" As she entered the room, "Oh that is a nice desk! And... wait what's that...?" Flicker's heart pounded away. Had he forgotten something? Did they hear him? Did one of the others get seen? The ensuing silence was nearly as deafening as the bean voices from a moment before, and he briefly wondered if they could hear his shaking from inside his hiding place.

But then he hear in the softest tone he'd ever heard a bean use, ".....isn't that just cute?" It was the woman, with a tone of awe and wonderment.

"Is it a.... a tiny cloak? Did a dollmaker live here or somethin'? Might explain the swatches of fabric in the drawers too." the louder voice of the red fellow suggested.

"I have no idea." she responded, "We have more house to see, I wonder what else is here...?" and her voice became more distant, and she, and the other bean he could tell began to move from the room.

As they departed Flicker caught only a bit of their next conversation, "Oh take this, it's the desk's key. It was locked inside somehow. You're really quite lucky I happened to come ac...."

Flicker took a minute to collect himself. To let his heart slow back down to a normal level, and for his mind to formulate what he should do next. He practically heard Buckle's voice in his head. 'Up now lad. Ya ain't got much fer time an' they're sure to be back. Scramble home, Wayfinder.'

And up Flicker got and pushed the drawer back open then sprinted to the hole at the back of the desk, where a wooden piece had been gently wedged in to disguise the borrower access hole. He glanced for the cloak, but didn't see it, and wouldn't have stopped for it anyway at that point. The beans had seen it, and it was now for all intents and purposes lost. But he wouldn't let himself be lost to the beans.

With a nearly inaudible 'click' the passage was sealed once more, and Flicker lead the other three towards the attic where the rest of the colony had planned to gather, farther from the reach of any potential beans.

Previous Masterpost Next

[danthekickingman]

@her-enlightened-ladyship

☆ Space Shenanigans ☆

"I'll be right there."

Chac didn't respond to the assurance as he floated forward, taking in the visage of the cluttered room instead.

"This place is so fully of stuff," came his eventual comment.

Of course, they had expected this. Their target was a known 'collector', a man eager to get his hands on whatever whimsy happened to catch his eye. As such, his home was filled to the brim with...well, stuff. Endless baubles and trinkets, gem-crusted garments and furniture hailing from all manner of planets.

Keeping to the less vulgar acquisitions, anyway.

Regardless, none of that was what they were here for (not that it stopped Chac from shoving a few necklaces and rings into his pockets). Their search was focused on a single item, one specific needle amid the haystack of chaos that surrounded him.

Luckily for him, that hay had already been brushed aside.

Chac placed one of his large hands atop a nearby surface, a rectangular shape covered in a garish red tablecloth. There was no mistaking the pattern. With a swift motion he pulled the fabric away, tossing it to the side as he observed what had previously been hidden beneath.

It was a box. It was the box. He remembered the hologram clearly, captured by one of the collector's hired hands - a spy planted to send word of any notable items worth taking.

This was what they'd been ordered to find.

His companion, Vaal, appeared in the doorway behind him, tiptoeing forth to stop by his side and stare down at the sizable trunk.

"Looks like the right one. Let's get it back to the ship" Chac hummed, reaching down to take one side of the trunk. Vaal nodded in turn, hesitating for only a second before moving to take the other end.

With the ease of practice the two pirates made their way out of the manor with box in tow, stowing it carefully away into the back of their ship once they'd reached the outside. Nobody tried to stop them. The paid guards had been knocked out prior, any other staff left free to leave as they pleased.

Liftoff went just as smoothly. The proceeding trip through space was equally uneventful, the time filled with casual chatter and music as the stars outside blurred past.

Before long, they'd arrived back home once more.

Their small ship landed easily within the loading bay, both Vaal and Chac stepping from the vessel to be greeted by their crew mates - Nebi and the Captain.

"How'd it go?" the Captain asked curtly.

"Good," Vaal replied softly, moving around back to retrieve the box they'd stolen. The Captain watched in silence, the tension in her shoulders relaxing as she finished assessing the condition of the others.

Chac bobbing lightly as he watched Vaal return with the trunk in his arms. "It was an easy job. That guy's security sucked."

The Captain nodded. Now, all they needed to do was turn it in. The rest would be simple.

At least, it should have been. The grin blossoming across Nebi's face, however, quickly shattered any such assumption.

"We should open it!" she exclaimed.

Before anyone could stop her, the slug-like woman smacked the lock that held the trunk shut, stepping back as the lid sprung open to reveal the box's contents.

All energy seemed to drain from the Captain as she looked down. Vaal's posture in turn stiffened with horror, Chac's antennae raising with curiosity as Nebi's smile curled up further at the corners.

The shape curled up inside the trunk was unmistakable.

It was a person.

[benignsnail]

So Veggie: A So Flora Mini Challenge

A mini sims legacy challenge inspired by not so berry legacy challenge. Have fun!

Garlic: You grow up in Forgotten Hollow and find yourself reading one too many fiction books on occults. You aspire to have a book you write made into a horror screenplay. Your self-care consists of Scare Max and Sims of the Dead. And of course, you have a Midnight Massacre poster above your bed. Which isn't always the most romantic things to have looking down on you. Your partner insists on Woohooing in the shower more often than not, but you refuse to take it down.

Aspiration: Bestselling Author

Right a copy of every book before you publish it to pass down

Buy the great storyteller reward trait

(Optional) Spooky lot trait if you live in San Myshuno

(Bonus) Buy spooky stuff pack paintings

Submit to a literary digest

Win a starlight accolade

Read a book you wrote to the public

Never become a vampire (or make and drink the cure if you do)

Write primarily horror short stories (you are edgar allen poe)

Always have garlic wreaths up in the house

Go on a trip to Brindleton Bay for your honeymoon and get pregnant at the lighthouse

Peas: Eat your peas, kids. Then maybe you can have the refined taste palate of this sim. You love dinosaurs as a kid but not enough to pursue a career in archaeology. Instead you pride yourself on always eating your vegetables. You are determined to change the food world with this wonderful talent of yours, so not only do you join the culinary career, but you apply your knowledge as a food critic as well.

Aspiration: Master Chef [Does anybody else always read this as Master Chief???]

Traits: Foodie, Snob

Career: Become a Sous Chef, write a cookbook, quit and become a Food Critic

Bemoan lack of banana for scale while dining out [the same way I bemoan the lack of bananas in game, plantains are not the same thing]

Earn Health Food Nut Lifestyle

Complete Experimental Food photo collection

Live in Oasis Springs near the dinosaur

Black Bean: Be gross? Yes please. Drink the milk out of the carton. So what if you're lactose intolerant. Belch. Fart. Release the gas. You just can't help yourself-it brings a smile to your face. And it's actually a bit admirable. You truly live life to the fullest with no shame.

Master mental skill as a kid and make a stink drink on the Beakers and Baubles Science Set

Buy shameless reward trait

Aspiration: Live Fast Teen

Love spicy food, always get food during festivals

Eat lots of beans and franks

Lactose intolerant

Plant a stink capsule in high school

Have so much fun you wet your pants because you can't be bothered

Buy something anytime you see a vending machine

Complete MySims Trophies Simmies collection

Spinach: You are gifted a doctor doll on your first birthday, and that's all you can dream of after. While getting fit in an effort to be able to run rounds and crack open rib cages, you have a crisis of heart. Should you be a doctor or pursue your love of sports? You never do decide.

Aspiration: Extreme Sports Enthusiast

Career: Doctor

Earn the Adrenaline Seeker Lifestyle

Play with the doctor doll as a kid

Climb up Mt. Komerebi and build on the secret lot

Try for baby in the ice cave

Teach a Ski Class

Drink protein shakes

Make a wish at the Ema Board

Swim in Mt. Komerebi's river

Determine the gender for your grandchild(ren)

Carrot: If there were cars in the world you'd be a car sim. You love taking things apart to figure out how they work. Your house is littered with bits and bobs and upgrade parts. You had every car toy possible as a kid and it still wasn't enough. Because you could never sate your curiosity about driving a car, instead you turn to building things. Nothing fancy, nothing modern, just a chair here a violin there. And if you're going to make it why not figure out how it works?

Aspiration: Nerd Brain

Eat lots of carrot cake

Upgrade everything in your house at least once

Craft your own violin

Master the violin

Master woodworking skill

Write a song

Buy a re-traiting reward potion and change your sim's whole personality for their midlife crisis

Move to Tomorang as an adult

Mermaid Kelp: Do you know Emily? Emily! You want to be like Emily. You live surrounded by water, but why can't you breathe under it? Who cares about legs, the little mermaid had it backwards. Scales and tails and fins, oh my. But why stop with yourself. Spread the joy! (You may cheat here for number 6)

Aspiration: Beach Life

Traits: Child of the Ocean

Complete shell collection

Have a beach club

Find a treasure chest

Make everyone in your club into a mermaid (have a mermaid cult)

Play fetch with a dolphin

Live on an Oceanic Paradise lot

Survive off odd jobs only

Kava: You've always been curious about your heritage. You mean to research your distant ancestors but you get caught up right away in Sulani lore. When you realize you can summon the Elementals, you have so many questions to ask. It's a bit disappointing to find out they don't have all the answers so you look to the next best place of mystery: the bottom of the ocean. Everyone needs to let off a little steam after working so hard taking care of the world. And you know just the way.

Conservationist Career: Marine Biologist

Traits: Inquisitive toddler, Child of Sulani, Party Animal

Party Animal Aspiration

Interact with Elementals

Go diving every Sunday

Reach gold hosting a kava party

Master dance skill

Marry a coworker

Teach your kid to swim

Dip infant's toes in the water in Sulani

Prairie Grass: You stay up late reading under the covers all the time as a kid. It actually kind of messes with your sleep schedule actually. And while books are fun when you're young, they get a bit boring after awhile. Too late you realize you could have been playing in the mud and splashing in puddles. But hope is not lost. You can squish all the fruit you want while the rest of the house sleeps.

Nectar Making Aspiration

Live at home your whole life

Buy a Restaurant/Store

(Bonus) Use a grow fruit as a fertilizer

Buy night owl reward trait and make nectar at night

Simple Living/Wild Prairie Grass lot challenge

Live on a ley line

Basil: I think, in the end, you are just too smart. Smarts are something to value for sure, but the what-ifs, the quantum possibilities-they really get to you. School is really hard. You talk to yourself more than anything and eat lunch away from everyone else. You try to play games on your phone to distract yourself from your running inner monologue but it doesn't last long.

Child Aspiration: Whiz Kid

Adult Aspiration Master Maker

Traits: Paranoid, Erratic, Genius

Make money selling candles and fabricated furniture

Live underground (you may go outside occasionally)

Write in a journal

Write a book about your conspiracy theories

Get really good at the pipe organ

Must have lots of handcrafted candles around the house

Get into fizzing

[rin-bellatrix]

Santa Baby

"I'll wait up for you, dear." - Eartha KItt

Rhys is working late into the night on the eve of Mercenary Day. With no friends around to spend the holiday with, he might as well get some work done. But Fiona has other plans, stopping by to gift her boyfriend with some naughty holiday cheer... 🔞

Written for rhyiona lovers who enjoy some adult after hours holiday celebrations 😏 (that face is so sleazy I'm sorry 😂)

Header art by unluckycheese

Part 4 to this ongoing series that I just keep adding to. Not necessary to read parts 1-3 to enjoy this, not a lot of story relevant plot is involved with this one 😏 (The Face strikes again oop-)

Holiday wreath dividers from this post. Minors DNI divider from this post. Green ribbon with bell divider from this post. Red ribbon with holly/mistletoe divider from this post.

In case I haven't made it clear - this chapter contains smut! 🔞 Nothing in this chapter will advance the plot, so it can be skipped with no problems! If that's okay with you, then please enjoy~ 😉

Happy Mercenary Day~ ❤💚💛🤍⛄❄⭐🎄🎁🧸

Promethea shined with festive lights, the wealthy city sparkling with decorations of green and red. Golden stars twinkled atop trees and delicate baubles glistened with newly fallen snow. Shimmering lights flickered while nestled among plentiful wreaths that hung around Atlas' home base. Mercenary Day was only a couple of hours away and the head of said corporation was seated at his desk, fingers tapping and clicking away rapidly at his keyboard. The only light on in his office was what was reflected off of his monitor, and the glow from holiday lights all over Promethea that poured in from behind through his large bay windows.

Rhys sat all alone at his desk on Mercenary Day eve, having sent all of his employees off with a paid three day vacation. A happy employee was a loyal employee. There were no helpful secretaries to meet at the lobby, no security guards patrolling by on their routes. No chefs in the cafeteria, no researchers blackened with soot testing new weaponry in the R&D departments. No one was here, but Rhys needed to keep Atlas running at a bare minimum, because while he could afford to be a generous and thoughtful employer, that didn't mean that he could let his actual business remain stagnant in the meantime. Time is money, after all.

Sitting back against his plush office chair, he sighed as he flexed his left hand, stretching the tendons and muscles before shaking it out. Rubbing his dry eyes briefly, he idly wondered if he should grab another cup of coffee to help finish this one systematic report, or if he should just call it a night and come in early on Mercenary Day to get a head start on it after resting for a while.

Although it was the holidays, he wasn't really feeling the festive spirit. Mostly because he had no one to share it with.

Ringing up his oldest friend, Rhys had hoped he could reunite with the former Hyperion accountant, but the call only resulted in confusion and a notion to start hitting the gym. Vaughn was embarking on a massive group hike to bond during the season, some sort of spiritual expedition to celebrate the holiday while also bringing his group of desert dwellers closer. Rhys was...not the athletic type, and a prolonged journey on foot over large stretches of land just didn't seem like a good time to him. So the two best friends bid each happy holidays with promises to meet up in the future, and that was that.

Sasha had tried to visit, but she was off in a whole other solar system, and the weather over there had gotten very bad, very quickly. Snow storms had kept her indoors and far from the closest Fast Travel Station. This would be cause to worry, but the text she had sent informed him that yes, while she was stranded until the weather eased up, she had no concerns because she was currently located in a truly massive and opulent resort. Even if the snow didn't melt for months, there was enough high end food and drinks to last her and the other guests a very long while. Not to mention personal jacuzzis and trained masseuses on call. (Rhys was only a little bit envious.) She promised to pay a visit as soon as she could, sent him a picture of her enjoying a ridiculously expensive meal, and (with a minimal amount of gloating) wished him a Happy Mercenary Day.

Loader Bot and Gortys had sent a transmission about a week ago, notifying him that they were going to be in the area around the time the "human winter holiday" was to happen, and that they would stop by to celebrate the festivities with him, although very briefly. They were on their way to another galaxy and Promethea was only a very quick stop along their continuous journey. However, since then he hasn't heard from either of them and Mercenary Day was fast approaching. He wondered if they missed their deadline and were going to be late, or even show up at all. Apparently they were en route to watch a once in a lifetime event, something about an aurora borealis in a new planetary system that the human eye couldn't handle (Gortys had happily mentioned something about "eye sludge" and he had to stop her there). He supposed he could forgive them if they were running late and had to skip over him, because the next time that phenomenon was dated to happen wouldn't be for another 3202 years. So for now, all he could do was wait.

Athena and Janey had sent him a festive card, and in it they explained that they were spending some time with a teenager named Pickle (what kind of a name was that?). A picture of Janey's bright grin was only matched by Pickle's equally large grin, her arm slung around the kid's neck in a loose imitation of a choke hold. Athena's usually stoic demeanor was relaxed as she looked at the two, a small smile warming her face so that she didn't appear so cold. Their picture was centered beautifully on the front of the card, which now sat next to the framed picture of his girlfriend that he always kept on his desk.

Speaking of said girlfriend, he had of course tried to coax her into spending at least the day with him. But she was off on Official Vault Hunter Business™️ - as specifically requested by someone(s) in Sanctuary - and was currently too busy being knee deep in varkid guts (probably) to bother caring about mistletoe and fireplaces.

He did have the brief chance to speak with her earlier, and he asked over his ECHO device if she liked the present he was able to send her. It was a sleak jacket, made out of a new fabric that doubled as light armor. The sales lady hooked him once she explained that it was fashionable and functional. Not only would it help to keep Fiona safe, but she'd look good while wearing it too.

Fiona had smirked at him through the screen, only able to get out a quick "Yes Rhys, the jacket is beautiful, thank you-" before someone off screen called for her. She glanced away and Rhys felt the sharp sting of disappointment as she called back that she was almost done. She returned her attention to her ECHO device and offered her boyfriend an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I've gotta go... I'll see you soon, okay? Love you!" Rhys was barely able to reply with a "Love you too-" before their call disconnected.

He was glad that she had such a lucrative career in her newfound lifestyle choice - being a vault hunter really suited Fiona. She never had to worry about where her next meal was coming from, never had to worry about housing or lack of funds. She was able to navigate through her life now without having to worry if she or her sister were safe. Her confidence soared and she was finally comfortable enough to set her roots down. He just kind of wished that maybe they recruited a few more vault hunters so that she could have a bit of time off to spend with her loved ones, especially her boyfriend. Was this selfish on his part, absolutely. But he would never ask her to put anything before her career, because then that would make him not just selfish, but an asshole as well.

He just missed his girlfriend, that was all.

With a deep sigh that was heavy with longing, Rhys rolled his chair closer to the desk, zeroing in on where he had left off in his work when his ECHO comm beeped.

Lifting his cybernetic hand, he unfurled a mini hologram of Gortys waving at him. "Rhys!" she chirped, and her tone in that one word was enough to make him smile. "It's so good to see you! Sorry we were a little late, but we're here now! Could you open the doors?"

"Hey Gortys, sure thing, I'll be right there," he answered, standing and heading over to his large office doors. Flicking through some menus on his holographic screen, he remotely unlocked the metal doors and reached them just as they parted and revealed his two favorite robots.

"You guys, it's been so long! How ya doing?" He just managed to get the words out before Gortys rolled right up to his feet and threw her little arms around his thighs.

"Oh Rhys, we missed all of you sooo much! Loader Bot and I have been learning so much and having so much fun, but we always think of you!"

Rhys grinned, reaching down and affectionately rubbing Gortys' smooth dome as she still clung to his legs. "I'm glad to hear it, Gortys." He looked up and met the glowing red eye of Loader Bot's visual sensor. "LB, still rocking the sleek look I see."

"Indeed, this mechanical skeleton that the digital replica of Handsome Jack wanted to insert inside of you is made from the highest quality materials. There has been no need to replace or repair any of its initial structure. It truly would have gone to waste if it had been wedged inside of your rotting, boneless corpse, as the Jack AI had originally intended."

Loader Bot walked over to his first friend, reaching around the tall human to embrace him in a socially acceptable form of physical affection, hugging his meaty body close to his mechanical one.

"Uh... Yeah, I'm uh, glad it's working out for you buddy... Cool, cool," Rhys murmured, fighting off a wave of nausea as he patted Loader Bot's boney back. Clearing his throat, he pulled away to look at the two robots before him. "I know you guys gotta get going soon, when's the next time you think you can stop by?"

"Oh, it won't be for a while I don't think. The next galaxy over has very strict traveling laws. We're gonna be lucky if we are allowed to leave in the next fifty years!" Gortys supplied, rocking steadily by Loader Bot's golden feet.

"What?!" Rhys cried, gaping at them wide eyed. "Fifty years?!"

"Pay no mind to Gortys, she is exemplifying a new feature she had recently stored in her memory banks."

"Gottem!" she cried out happily, her digital eyes creasing with the smile implied in her tone.

"I have already advised her to delete it, but she refuses."

"Hey Rhys. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made you worry. I blame all of this on Jo, it's their fault."

Placated that his robo pals wouldn't be held up on the other side of time and space for half a century, Rhys gave a sigh of relief and asked "Jo? Who's Jo?"

"Jo mama!"

Rhys shook his head in disbelief as Gortys rolled around in excited circles by his feet. The Atlas CEO hadn't fell for a 'jo mama' joke since he was in middle school. Apparently Gortys had discovered old memes. He wondered how much patience Loader Bot truly had... Then he remembered his days with The Stranger and immediately knew LB's patience would stretch much farther for Gortys than it ever had for him and Fiona combined. Which was a good thing. For Gortys.

"We will be leaving now, the ship we need to set sail on is departing in half an hour." Loader Bot offered his metallic hand and Rhys grasped it with his own, cool silver embracing gleaming gold in a firm handshake. "Enjoy this human celebrated winter holiday season. We will return for a social visit in less than fifty years time."

Rhys grinned, reaching out to pat his long time friend on his shoulder. "Thanks, and I sure hope so LB."

"It's a promise," Loader Bot said, using the same hand to form a fist. Rhys immediately curled his hand into a ball and the two bumped their fists together. "Come Gortys, say your farewells so that we can make it to our ship."

"Ooh, but I haven't even told Rhys about deez~!"

Loader Bot gently took hold of Gortys' little hand, leading her away and towards the elevators. "You may ask him next time, that way you have incentive to return and verbally harass him again."

Rhys called out to their figures as they disappeared around the corner. "Goodbye Gortys!" And just to make her happy, he shouted "Deez what?"

"Deez nuts! Hahaha- oh! Wait, what if he's allergic? Rhys! I take it back if you're allergic!"

The president of Atlas shook his head, a wide smile stretched across his face as he turned around and headed back inside his dark office. He adored those two so much, and honestly couldn't wait for their next, hopefully longer visit.

Now to get back to work... He tried to remember where he left off and what graph he had left to review as he walked over to his desk. But in the light from his monitor, he noticed his chair was occupied with another person.

Fiona sat in his chair as if it were her throne, her scarlet smile was coy and sultry beneath her shining jade eyes. Before he could take in any other details from her, his surprise and excitement got the better of him and he was rushing over to pick her up in a tight hug.

"Fiona!" he cried out against her hair and jacket, picking her up until the tips of her toes were barely touching the ground. She huffed a delighted laugh against his neck and shoulder, clinging to him as he squeezed her firmly. "Oh my God, what are you doing here? I thought you were busy!"

Rhys pulled back enough to look down at her, but he didn't loosen his hold one bit, almost afraid that if he let her go, she'd disappear and reveal that this was nothing but a bittersweet hallucination brought on from lack of sleep. But she was real and solid in his arms, the delicate scents of her perfume and shampoo wafting up to him, combining with the feel of her body heat seaping through his clothes. Her hands clutched his shoulders, the feel of her grip twisting the fabric only aided in proving that she was really here.

She parted her lips to answer him, but before she could get a word out, he dipped down and kissed her soundly. She chuckled against his mouth, and the feel of her sucking in a breath was cool against his lips. He pulled back again to look at her and felt himself in awe of her beauty as she smiled lovingly at him.

"Am I able to get a word out now?" she questioned, laughter tinting her voice.

"Sorry," her murmured, still in shock of having his girlfriend in his arms, when she should have been far, far away. "It's just... Wow..."

The vault hunter scoffed in amusement, reaching up to gently pinch at her boyfriend's rosey cheek. She couldn't believe just surprising him on Mercenary Day would get him to blush, but here she was, looking up at her tall CEO and basking in his affections. "Surprise~"

His response was to lean down and kiss her again, this time allowing her time to respond in kind. Fiona happily wrapped her arms around his neck, still barely standing on her tippy toes as he hadn't yet released her from his enthusiastic embrace.

She brushed her turquoise tipped fingers over his styled wavy hair, murmuring softly against his lips "Did you miss me?"

"Always," he answered without hesitation, squeezing her gently before slowly lowering her until she could stand on her own.

"Cute," she said, a satisfied smile quirking her lips as she playfully booped his nose.

He grinned in response before asking, "So are you gonna tell me how you got in here, or do I have to review my security protocols?"

"Let's just say that I have my ways~" she winked, before lifting her hand and flashing him a company keycard that looked a lot like his, before she flicked her wrist and the card disappeared. "And it doesn't hurt to have a pair of willing decoys to distract while I secure my entrance..."

"Ah..." he nodded in understanding, remembering that Gortys and Loader Bot could have easily entered his office since they did have authorization, but he hadn't thought about that as he was just too eager to see them again. "Interesting set up you have here. And the uh, supposed 'business' that was 'too important' to abandon?"

The former con woman grinned, tilting her head until she could peer up at him from beneath her lashes. "Another ploy to make you think that I couldn't make it in time to spend the holidays with you... Does that put me on the naughty list?"

"Hmm..." Rhys mulled over thoughtfully, pretending to think this over as he watched the mirth spread across his girlfriend's face. "It would seem likely, but I think you might be able to make amends. You've still got about an hour left before Mercenary Day, so if you're really good, you might avoid some coal in your stocking this year."

Fiona snickered, twisting her finger around one of the short curls at the nape of his neck, cocking her head to the side as she asked, "What if I tell you that I came by in person to thank you for the jacket you gave me? Would that help?"

He hummed in agreement, his fingers drumming along her waist as he nodded and answered, "That does seem like a step in the right direction."

The Pandoran stepped back out of his reach, leaning back against the edge of his desk as she tugged at the lapels of said jacket. "It really is a beautiful gift... Isn't it?"

For the first time since he noticed his girlfriend in his chair, he was able to get a good view of what she was wearing. The light from the city at night poured in from his bay windows, falling over her form in shafts of multicolored light that only complimented her beauty even more. She wore the jacket he bought for her, a dark burgundy knee length piece that looked so good on her. He was very happy with his purchase, and she appeared to be as well. Her hat was nowhere to be found, and her legs were bare because instead of her usual knee-high boots, she wore a pair of simple black stilettos.

Perhaps she wanted to go out to dinner after this, her attire more suited to a fancy restaurant rather than vault hunting. He was about to ask her where she'd like to go, when she spoke up first.

"Doesn't it look good?" she asked, watching him carefully.

"Definitely. You know, they had other colors but I know red is like, your thing and so I uh... I... I was um..."

His words trailed off as she slowly pulled the tab for the zipper down her body, letting the jacket part before she casually shrugged one shoulder out of the jacket, revealing that underneath, she wore a lacey set of black lingerie, and nothing else. She sat braced against his desk, peering up at him in nothing but the present he bought for her, a tiny set of underwear, and her black heels. "It looks really good, right...?"

Rhys swallowed thickly, his eyes roaming over the length of her bare leg that she stretched out to draw his eye. He nodded slowly, preoccupied with trying to burn this image into his mind forever. "Yep... Looks... Very good. Very very good. The best, in fact..."

She brushed the tip of her shoe along the side of his calf, while reaching out to tug on his festive tie to draw him closer. "Why don't you let me show you just how much I appreciate your thoughtful gift, hmm...?"

Rhys willingly drew closer to her, stepping in between her legs as she parted her knees to make room for him. "Oh fuck you're so hot, how are you this hot...?" It was more of a rhetorical question as it seemed like he was talking more to himself than actually questioning her, but all the same it made Fiona grin with pride.

She pulled on his tie to bring him down to her, parting her mouth eagerly as she felt his tongue swipe across her lower lip. His hands braced themselves by her hips as he leaned over and thrust his tongue against hers, making her sigh in pleasure. He tilted his face and reached up to cup the back of her head, angling her to kiss her deeper.

Fiona released his tie, letting her touch trail down his chest and stomach to his belt. Rhys pulled away from her mouth with a wet smack, reaching behind her to fiddle with his keyboard and save his work. The Pandoran nibbled along his jawline, moving on to kiss down his neck as she pulled his shirt partially out of his slacks to delve her greedy hands underneath to reach his bare skin. Rhys, meanwhile, was very distracted and more than eager to join his girlfriend in whatever she had planned. Finally, he manages to save and shut down his computer.

As soon as his monitor goes dark, he pushes it off to the side of his large desk, as well as any papers or miscellaneous items that could get in the way. When everything is all clear, he pulls back to look at Fiona properly, now with no other distractions in the way.

Greedily eyeing the new set of lingerie, he runs his human finger over the scalloped edges of her bra cup, the texture of lace delicate and expensive beneath his fingertip - a beautiful contrast against the smooth skin of her breast. "Is this a gift to me, from you...?"

Fiona's smile is sexy and mischievous, gazing at up at him as she slightly arches her back, encouraging more of his touch. "I used your money to buy this set. It was tailored specifically for me, but it wasn't too expensive..."

Rhys firmly cups her in his hand, her breast sitting full against his palm as he runs a thumb over her hardened nipple beneath the fabric. She sighs lightly as he answers, "Now that's a good investment..."

She chuckles quietly, meeting his bi-colored eyes as she purrs, "Glad you think so..." before tugging on his open vest to bring him down to her lips again.

She wraps her arms around his neck, her hands diving into his wavy hair while he reaches under her jacket to rove over her bare skin. She suckles on his tongue and he in turn reaches down to squeeze at her hip. She hums appreciatively, arching into his body as he brings his hands up to the back of her bra, unhooking the garment after some fiddling. She pulls back with a pop, gazing at him heavy lidded with a gentle smirk. "So eager, you barely had time to appreciate me in this before you're taking it off."

"It's not that I don't appreciate it, because I do, I very very very much do, but I haven't seen you in a month-" kiss "-I am so so so so so happy to see you-" kiss "-you look so damn hot right now-" kiss "-and you could be wearing diamonds and I'd still insist that you look best naked."

Fiona chuckled into the fervent kisses he placed on her mouth, letting him peel off her jacket and bra, dropping it off to the side as he kissed down her neck while his human hand came up to cup her bare breast. She sighed in pleasure at his knowing touch, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt and vest over his shoulder as his thumb swiped gently over a budded nipple.

"Rhys..."

"Oh Fi, I've missed you..."

He sucked against her pounding pulse and she let her head fall back, whining softly as she leaned back against his desk for support. Her right leg came up against his side, trying to pull him closer. She plunged her turquoise tipped fingers into his thick hair as he kissed down her chest and quickly sucked her other nipple into his mouth. Her soft moans echoed in his empty office, and she was always astonished at how quickly he could rile her up in so little time.

He alternates lovingly over her panting chest - finger, lips, teeth and tongue teasing her until she's pulling him up and back to her mouth. She bites on his bottom lip as she tugs his shirt completely free from his slacks, pulling it up in an attempt to get it off. With a groan, he pulls back enough to shuck his vest before tugging at his tie to loosen it, pulling it over his head and tossing it somewhere off to the side. He works at his shirt's buttons as Fiona reaches forward and begins to undo his belt. She peeks up at him as she slides it out of the buckle, working on the button and zipper next, and he loves the sight before him, wondering how he got so lucky to be the one Fiona wanted most of all.

Rhys shrugs off his shirt, exposing his bare chest and the large expanse of his blue tattoo just as Fiona is parting his slacks. She pauses when she glances down to see his festive boxers. He's very obviously aroused but she can't help but smirk at his Mercenary Day themed underwear.

"What?" he grouses, a blush high on his cheeks. "I was trying to embody the holiday mood okay?"

"Oh you're in the mood alright~" she purrs, reaching down into his pants to rub him through his festive boxers.

His eyes flutter shut and he moans softly, making the Pandoran bite her lip and pull him closer. She strokes him over his underwear as she kisses him, swallowing his sounds of pleasure as he ruts eagerly up against her hand.

Eventually he pulls away and immediately starts tugging on her panties, muttering in a voice thick with arousal, "I need to get these off of you now..."

The vault hunter laughs but insists that she's not gonna be the only naked one here. She helps Atlas' head push down his slacks and as he toes off his expensive shoes and kicks his clothing away, she looks down and sees that of course his socks are holiday themed too. She giggles and Rhys lays her gently back against his desk as he tugs her damp panties down her legs, stopping to gently remove her heels and set them carefully off to the side.

Fiona is now completely naked on his desk, and as he straightens to look at her, she props herself up on her elbows and curls a leg around his hip to bring him closer. Rhys wonders how he's gonna get any work done from now on, when all he'll be able to think about while sitting at his desk, is how good Fiona looks splayed over the polished, wooden surface with her lustful gaze trained on him. He eagerly leans over her, kissing her again as if he can never get enough of her mouth. She slowly reclines back until she's laying flat over his desk, wrapping her legs around him and grinding her wet core over the tent in his boxers. They both groan into the kiss, and Rhys quickly reaches between them to shove his underwear out of the way.

He grips the base of his erection and guides it between her lips, rocking slowly against her to coat himself in her slick. Fiona is mouthing over his throat, moving on to leave hickeys over his neck and shoulder, proud of the color it makes when her love bites pepper over the blue of his tattooed skin.

Finally he pushes against her entrance, and she lies back to watch his face, only to find his eyes meeting hers.

He pushes in slowly, giving her body time to adjust to his intrusive strokes. If the way her eyelashes flutter and her kiss-swollen mouth parts with exhales of pleasure, then he's doing a good job. He presses fully against her, and leans down to kiss gently at her parted lips. She returns his kiss eagerly as she flutters around him, and keeping his hips still is so hard when her walls are squeezing him so tight. His elbows are braced beside her to keep his weight off of her, but when she arches, her breasts push against his chest, her nipples grazing teasingly over his skin. She's got the heel of one foot hooked just underneath his ass, keeping him pulled close against her. Her other leg is curled around his back, the smooth skin of her inner thigh brushing up against his side.

"Fiona, can I-"

"Yes, please, move..."

Her legs relax enough to let him ease back, before he begins rolling his hips into her body. They sighed in pleasure simultaneously, her eyes falling shut but immediately opening to catch his gaze. He loved watching her face as he worked to draw as much pleasure out of her as he possibly could.

"Rhys..." she murmured, her hands trailing up his arms, over his shoulders and down his back. He rocked into her again, this time plunging into her quicker and she yelped, arching her back and digging her blunt nails into his shoulder blades.

He grazed his parted lips across her jawline and down the arch of her neck, stopping to suckle a bruise onto her collarbone as he began a steady pace between her legs.

She gasped and whined in his ear, and it was all he could focus on. The taste of her sweat on his tongue, the pounding of her pulse against his lips, the breathless, helpless way she called for him, the way his name sounded as she panted and writhed beneath him. Her body fitting against his like his other half, the wet, hot, sporadic squeeze of her core, the way she trusted him enough to allow him this opportunity. There was no one and nothing like her, and he loved her so entirely.

Fiona, Fiona, Fiona...

"Rhys, Rhys- Ah Rhys...!"

He pushed himself up to brace his hands on either side of her, watching her body bounce with every meeting of their hips. She was close, he could tell by the way she was trying to stifle her louder moans, and the way her hands sought any part of him to find purchase of.

With this angle, he could watch as she shuddered, her thighs tightening around him as her walls spasmed around his length, her hands curled around his biceps as her orgasm washed over her. Watching the pleasure reflected on her face and in her eyes was always his favorite part, knowing he was the one to satisfy her needs.

When she squirmed at the beginnings of overstimulation, he slowed his thrusts until he was fully sheathed inside of her, panting heavily as arousal still pounded through his veins.

She parted her eyes, gazing up at him through partially wet lashes, before tugging him down on top of her to kiss him thoroughly as she came slowly down from her high. Rhys waited, his patience tested but never broken, the need to finish still so strong in him, but he'd always wait until Fiona was ready.

She curled her arms around his shoulders and nipped at the shell of his ear, her sultry words like a fire in his blood. "We're not done yet..."

Rhys nuzzled into her bare shoulder, his hands sliding down her body until they found a firm grip underneath her thighs. He picked her up and took a step back, falling back into his overly expensive office chair.

Fiona quickly righted herself, and the movement sent a spike of pleasure straight to his gut, making his hands latch on to her hips automatically. She steadied herself on his lap, before swiveling her hips in a devious circle, making him groan deeply as his head tipped back against the head rest. As soon as she started bouncing in his lap, he spread his thighs to give her more room to maneuver. He looked down at where their bodies met, watching with hot, molten pleasure as she rode him just the way she liked. The sound of her hips slapping wetly down onto his was drawing him closer and closer to his finish.

There was literally nothing hotter than his girlfriend, his heterochromatic eyes taking in the way she moved over him and worked his body with confidence, her lusty smile and dark eyes were the most beautiful things he had ever seen. She leaned down, swirling her hips in the most delicious little circles and kissed him, drawing his bottom lip into a gentle bite. He felt his stomach tighten and knew he was about to come.

Wrapping his human arm around her lower back to keep her in place, he secured her completely against him, slipping his mechanical hand in between their bodies. His cool metal fingertips found her flushed bud, which made her flinch at first contact. He activated a steady vibration and she yelped, clinging to him desperately as she locked up with a sudden climax.

This time Rhys allowed himself to follow with her, his hips trying to buck up into her as he shuddered and ejaculated deep within her clenching walls. She whined in sensitivity, rolling her hips against his vibrating fingers as she continued to milk him, wanting to draw out both of their orgasms as long as possible. Soon though it became too much, and he slowly removed his touch to instead wrap his arms around her back to secure her to his chest.

The vault hunter sat in a boneless heap against him, panting against his tattooed neck as she savored the afterglow. He was so warm right now and his arms wrapped around her could easily lull her into a good night's sleep.

Rhys was trying to catch his breath, pressing his nose into her hair as he gently stroked a loving hand down her back. His pulse was beating wildly, and he knew that he had the most absolute, stupidest grin slathered across his face right now. But eventually, he knew he had to rouse his girlfriend from her light dozing.

"Hey, Fi...?"

"Mmm...?"

"Wanna head home and shower, then sleep in our comfy, cozy bed? Wouldn't that be better?"

"Mmm..." she sighed, seeming as if she was content to stay snuggled up against him. But she shifted slightly, pulling back enough to look him in the eyes. "Can we order take out? I'm starving..."

The company man's ego could probably not get any bigger than it was right now. "Oh~ Worked up an appetite did you?" His smug smirk was half irritating, half humorous. "I guess I can't blame you - I gave you a pretty good work out if I do say so myself..."

Fiona rolled her eyes, reaching up to pluck playfully at his nipple. He yelped, jumping in his seat which jostled them apart. She sat wet and naked in his equally wet and naked lap, watching as a fierce blush spread over his cheeks. "You were saying...?"

"Yeah, well..." He cleared his throat. "Let's uh, let's get home so we can shower..." From where she was now perched on his lap, he could feel their combined juices sliding down her thighs and onto his. "...A shower would be really good right about now..."

The Pandoran woman snickered, pushing herself off to stand on wobbly legs. She tried to stand confidently but her knees still trembled slightly and the sight blew up Rhys' male ego like nothing else. She caught sight of his smug grin, and combined with his tousled hair and the after shocks of pleasure still zinging through her body, she had to admit to herself that he was pretty damn sexy right now. Blushing lightly, she turned away from him to pick up her scraps of clothing from the floor.

The president of Atlas got up soon after and winced at the mess they made on his luxury office chair... But eventually dismissed it and went in search of his own scattered clothes.

Fiona shrugged on her new jacket as Rhys was cinching his belt. He looked like he had just dressed after taking a roll in the sheets - hair and clothes all mussed, bruises dotting his neck - and she supposed she didn't look much better. As she righted her clothes, subconsciously taking note of the stickiness of her inner thighs, she noticed Rhys pull up a call on his palm display.

As it rang, he whispered to her, "The usual?"

She nodded as the staff to her favorite restaurant picked up. She curled her arm around her boyfriend's, walking with him out of his office to the elevators. He punched the number in for the garage as he placed their orders, requesting for delivery at his apartment.

As he was getting ready to hang up, the worker on the other end chirped, "And Happy Mercenary Day Mr. Strongfork!"

Taken slightly aback, Rhys looked at the time and realized that it was indeed past midnight. It was officially Mercenary Day. He returned the sentiment and hung up, turning to look down at the woman at his side.

"Happy Mercenary Day, Mr. Strongfork~" Fiona cooed with an impish little smile.

Rhys groaned, shaking his head as he turned away and said, "Don't call me that when we're out in public..."

"Oh~?" she questioned, tugging on his vest to get him to face her. She could spot a light blush blooming across his face and over the tips of his ears. Interesting, perhaps something to explore at a later time...

He twisted and caught her in a hug, effectively hiding his blushing face from her curious eyes. "Happy Mercenary Day Fi... So far, it's the best one yet..."

Fiona nuzzled into his neck, planting a soft kiss against the black rings there. "I'm not done giving you your gifts yet..."

"Oh~?" It was Rhys' turn to shift into a playful mood, his initial embrace now taking on a flirty edge as his hands roamed suggestively down her back and sides.

She snickered, leaning against him as she threw her arms over his shoulders. She nipped him playful along his jaw, pulling away completely once the elevator doors opened on the garage level. She tugged coyly on his tie as she sauntered out of the elevator towards his car. "We've got the whole day to ourselves... Let's not waste it, hm?"

Rhys, despite the love making that had just happened, was practically salivating at the notion of spending all day with his incredibly sexy girlfriend. He fumbled around in his pockets for his car keys, eager to get on the road and into their large bed.

The rest of the night was just getting started, if Fiona's sultry smile and bedroom eyes were anything to go by.

🌟Happy Mercenary Day🌟

©rin-bellatrix 2022

☆ borderlands masterlist ⋆ main masterlist ☆

[nutwit]

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welcome back to

□ Abscoña. ■

an open poll-based rpg

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part one. prev.

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Readmore Context:

Poll 3 Data:

Success (Highest %) :: Imposter Syndrome (29%)

"Sneak in. No one should know I'm here."

Failure (Second-highest %) :: Heretical Relics (22%)

"Consult whatever I have to dowse out a good spot to dig."

Reading:

This happens early one morning. Your flat is in a town on the shore of the ever-grinding clockwork sea, on an inlet called Abacus Bay. Like most mornings on the coast, it's hot and muggy. The seas churn off a spray of metal sparks and rhythmically eject a hot jet of steam released from somewhere deep within the mechanisms of the planet, the combination of which settles over the town as a swelteringly overcast early morning dew.

It has to happen in the morning because of your night owl roommate. This gives you the maximum amount of time to leave, find a way in, sack, pawn some shit, and get home before they can get up. It's not, like... There's no animosity there; you'd just rather no one knows that you're going delving. So. And therefore, you have to get up. So fucking early.

You turn your back to the shore, provisions and tools in your pack, and make your way up the road for a while before darting across it erratically and stumbling and tripping down an exposed metal grate staircase into the mossdrenched wilderness. This is because a major component of your plan was to just wing it, grab one of those freaky fate compasses out of that sack you keep that stuff in, and assume it worked exactly like a normal magnet compass in leading you to a destination, instead of doing fucked up fate things to you, which is what happened.

You twist your ankle. This doesn't do any damage to you. Just think about your actions.

After you get your bearings, you practice a little more restraint and let the gently chaotic gyroscope device nudge you past roots and over pipes for a while. Eventually you reach the elevated bank of a nearby delta where you see a cart driven out onto the sand near a large rocky outcropping in the distance. From your position in the treeline you can see three individuals dressed in some kind of white wicker garment working the ground around the base. One is on their knees, not-quite-digging with some kind of tool. Speaking of which, your little fate gyroscope stops vibrating entirely.

So that's about an hour of sunlight down. You haven't been seen, but you asked to dowse and the dowse said "yeah this is right" about this situation. What do you do?

[eclipsecrowned]

I’ve a devil of a habit for being right. [ @ lucienne. hey remember the 'you can't save him you can't change him either' line.] // @nightmarecountry

Teeth scrape into place at the juncture of her jaw, set tight against the sound of his voice. It seems to rattle though to her core, and all the grinding cannot drown him out. It can't even keep her own words at bay.

The only reason her frostbitten rage remains unspoken is because they prove unfit for present company.

She catches her own eyes in the glass bauble the boy rolls along the floor. In that clear mirror, she can make out the Corinthian, too -- distorted so that his face is broken by row after row of white bone. There's no escaping what he has been, a trifling trinket buried with the rest of their Lord's minor conquests.

A thousand demands for silence, for the Corinthian to curb his tongues, that this is not the time, pull into one question: Why are you here? What is his purpose, the most wretched and wicked of all Dream's menagerie, if not to protect the Dreaming? Yet he remains here, glorified nursemaid. The boy at his feet looks up gleefully at his minder, rolling the glass orb ever closer for his inspection.

Daniel's toy seems the last pristine piece in the whole realm.

They’ve weathered worse, but never with him present, able to act and unwilling to do so. Give it back to her. At least the worst of her reign was stagnation. At least her reign gave the others a chance to escape.

Her jaw aches from the tension. From this annoyance, the self-righteous words of a creature who, damn it all, must understand this betrayal all too well. From the horizon, the blackest sky, dark clouds and raven wings blotting out moon and sun -- and truthfully, Lucienne isn't sure which she is meant to be missing. From her own helplessness to change it, waiting for a man that refuses his own role in the whole sordid tale. From Dream's absence, from the room, from his responsibilities, from repairing what has been destroyed.

It all might have been easier, if he hadn't come back after all.

"Corinthian," she says, removing her spectacles to clean them. The words are a panacea all her own. All her rage and tightly-wound anxiety is drawn into the syllables. It isn't his fault. The thought had been her own, swift as a knife between the ribs. He is, however, the only one within range.

"Do shut up."

[valorxdrive]

" Gather ! " ✨

What's this? Sora caught in this Magnega's tide? Dragging his feet and tugging his form in the midst of battle -- as though he were swept into the wars of cosmic attraction-- where exactly???

Right into a devious princess's clutches! So she could wrap her arms around him.

"Gotcha'."

[ from @maregiis 😌 ]

Being fashioned by his hand was the chaos that intends to counteract all destruction. Well, that's what sounds pretty on paper above anything else. His current expedition was more selfishly focused as the intent was to draw forth materials, precious baubles and gems infused with the might required for Moogles to create the more incredible inventions.

Naturally, his journey required this aid in near endless tides, requiring growth that is virtually as demanding as his regiment. So, imagine his face once the invisible grip, roused through the richness of this mana type as it seamlessly tugs him off of the ground. Initially confused, that tinge of panic would begin to nip at the back of his neck, wondering just which of these Heartless was hiding a more devious form. No doubt this was a high caster type considering this spell use..!

At the same time? Why in the Hearts did it feel so warm on the other hand? Hardly being able to even twist his body due to the commanding pull, Sora's voice echoed out to the vanishing stir of iridescent clouds that weaved with the mythical and sparkling haze that revolved around the orb of light force. No, any stolen magic by the Heartless's design was rendered frigid by default, a soul deep type of oblivion woven into each incantation, elemental blast or manipulation of law, even to their hellish flames.

While this on the other hand felt almost.. Almost...

A hug?

The way he's taken through the raw growth of Kairi's will, no longer being a victim of fate through the means of the more insidious forces disguised as that mediator that intends to pull him away. Any battle tension found in his body was in the process of being dispelled as the soft, familiar scent of sweetness only joined into creating that calm. The Keyblade found itself happily relinquishing its presence as it vanished back to the domain of his heart.

On the other hand? Sora's arms were limp, practically stunned alongside his mind. She managed to work up a spell of that caliber. Being thrust into this innate realization of how she used the force of her light to make an ethereal barrier of spirit that kept the forces at bay, all while allowing for her Sora to be safe in those clutches made him simply lost in the moment.

While a flourish of pink mangled with the fringes of scarlet hair, the sight above, seeing her so simply at peace while letting that call to attention be known..

It was inevitable that he would smile in return, body and Heart leaning into the welcome warmth of her affection.

"What's a matter? These troublemakers been sweepin' up too much of my attention?" It was an equally simple tease, a clear contrast to the well meaning way his strong arms swept her closer, pressing her into a warm hug.

"And just how long were you keeping tricks like that under lock n' key? Do ya know how long it even took me to get the hang of that?"

@maregiis

[bloodrosebriars]

betrayal, clarity, rage. (for any muse! have fun)

from send three words for a drabble [accepting!!]

It’s usually entertaining, at the very least, when Alberich goes and fucks something up — kills a companion, or reaps the roses, or gets himself killed by a compatriot. But there’s an undeniable rage in the Omen’s golden eye this time that’s enough to make even the immovable tremble in their boots. And Alberich is made only of straw and stone.

The Omen’s words are dark and regal, like a God sentencing one to eternal damnation: “Release him.”

Alberich drops Miquella’s hand like one fumbling with a tea tray.

Which doesn’t help, honestly. Alberich is not a tall man, and he hadn’t lifted more than just the Godhead’s middle and ring finger to examine the ring that decorates his pale, putrid flesh, glistening under the firelight against a backdrop of sallow sickness. But the way the cocoon crinkles and creaks as the God’s hand lifelessly sways…

No, no, no…

This betrayal shall not go unpunished.

There isn’t even a warning — no more words to be said — before Mohg, scowling fierce like a hunting dog, raises his horn-clawed hand like a cracking whip and claws a wound into the aether — into the Mother’s womb which surrounds him — and draws forth Her unholy blood. He casts the foul liquid in an arc before him, and Alberich has no room with which to leap back and away. It splatters his shins and dares to spark flame…

But his sorcery is quick, and one swift swipe of his frost-enchanted staff snuffs the flames before they can burn his pale skin.

“I was just—!”

“Do not speak, impious Tarnished!” Mohg commands in a most daunting voice, far louder and grander than anything Alberich has ever heard bellow forth from the typically soft spoken man’s demonic throat before. He points his trident’s golden teeth threateningly towards the other, though the distance between them is still too wide for him to do any real damage. “No excuse shall salvage your wretched soul! You have blindly disrespected the very heart of our Dynasty! You are no better than the Grace that would betray us!”

Despite being a notoriously unagile man, Mohg’s wide and gallant stride is something to fear. Careful not to disturb the cocoon’s peaceful slumber, it takes a mere three steps to close the gap between himself and Alberich, swinging his trident with intent to kill.

Alberich just barely leaps out of the way in time, tumbling nimbly down the steps and drawing his scythe with the same motion. He skillfully lands on his feet with weapons in hand, backing up slowly as the enraged Omen spins on his heel with flame burning bright within his claws.

A heavy blast of frost is cast at the same moment the Mother’s fire is tossed, and the two seem to be a perfect match for one another, their magics crashing together like gale winds in a hurricane, a whoosh of steam and fog brushing each of the combatants’ faces.

They both realise at the same time that their spells are perfect counters of each other.

Which means this will be a battle of brawn.

If, at least, Alberich cannot speak some clarity into existence within the Omen’s bleeding heart.

(But, really… does he even care that much?)

“Don’t be so bloody rash!” Alberich sternly snaps, far more commanding in tone than one ought to be when speaking to a Lord of any merit, even if this one isn’t necessarily his. For yes, though Mohg has resigned to allowing the heretical sorcerer to stalk the swamps of his mausoleum and keep intruders at bay, sating his bloodlust in a manner that doesn’t target his Fingers, Alberich has never once sworn fealty. And now, he’s made his irreverence painfully, shamefully clear. “I was just curious!”

“Do not treat Miquella as a bauble to gawk at!” Mohg snaps back. “He is our most divine of masters, and should be treated as such! You have stained his flesh and mocked his betrothal, treated the divine as naught but a curio!”

A few more wide steps again closes the distance between them, and the trident comes crashing down with force enough to shatter the stone floor. Alberich dodges quickly, his agility a blessing in this moment as he swings his scythe quickly enough to tear through the Omen’s sleeve, leaving a deep gash in his underarm. “How am I meant to revere something I’ve never even seen?!” he argues, swinging his scythe again, though the Omen seems unfazed by its blade gouging his black flesh — immune to pain, but not to bleeding. “And they call me a madman! You’re no better than those bastards at the Hold hiding the Two Fingers away within the— ”

“Enough!”

Another swing of the trident, and then another, and a third. Alberich is not so lucky this time, caught off-guard by the Omen’s strength and speed. The third thrust sends him utterly flying, cracking ribs painfully as he is tossed aside like a ragdoll. He damn near loses his grip on his scythe as he hits the ground hard. His staff is knocked from its holster on his back and clatters across the ground.

He is no stranger to pain. To punishment. But this is insane.

“There’s no— ah-agh— g-getting through to you, is there?” Alberich groans stubbornly as he stumbles to his feet, but he’s been too compromised physically — and has no time to grab his crimson flask — before the trident’s teeth pierce him like a tender cut of meat straight through the gut.

Well. This might just be his quickest failure.

He is proud enough not to cry out in pain as his hands instinctively fly to his gut and his scythe clatters to the ground, and Mohg lifts his weapon for but a brief moment, only to then stab its teeth into the stone below, pinning the heretic there. Alberich groans tiredly, hissing through fanged teeth, but says nothing more.

Breaths heavy as an ox, and with an unmistakable fire of ire burning within the golden sphere of his narrowed eye, Mohg straightens his posture, towering above the other with all the grace and gore as the God he serves. Sparks flicker from where Alberich’s scythe had met its mark, blood steadily seeping from the wounds and leaving drip-drops of flame upon the ground.

The Lord breathes deep, the breath rumbling in his chest. “You are a fool on the best of days, Alberich,” he begins to scold, not unlike a teacher to their pupil, but a thousand times more murderous. “You have been a traitor from the very beginning, and I am ashamed to have once called you an ally.

“… Your work has been… helpful,” he continues, taking another step closer as Alberich, accepting his fate, simply scowls up at the Omen like one beholding a false idol. “But you shall not be spared on this day. And you are not to return to these grounds ever again. Do I make myself clear.”

“You’re a fucking loon.”

“Am I clear.”

“The ring feels cheap anyway.”

Slam!

The trident’s metal teeth sing a shrill mockingbird’s song as Mohg raises the weapon once more, then slams it down with force enough to practically sever the man in half. Blood spatters. Glintstone rattles. One final breath is sucked through clenched teeth…

Then the heretic fades into ash and silt.

But this is no victory, really. No, not for Mohg, nor for the Dynasty. For he knows — and he knows unfortunately well…

It’s only a matter of time before he comes back.