#beige base layer

[seo-expert0012]

The Ultimate Guide to Base Layers: Everything You Need to Know

Base layers, often referred to as thermal underwear or simply "thermals," are a crucial component of any outdoor enthusiast's wardrobe. Whether you're hitting the slopes, going for a winter hike, or just braving a chilly day, a good base layer can make all the difference in keeping you warm, dry, and comfortable. But what exactly does a base layer do, and how does it differ from other layers? Let's dive into the world of base layers and explore everything you need to know.

What Does a Base Layer Do?

At its core, a base layer serves two primary functions: insulation and moisture management. In cold weather conditions, a base layer works to trap heat close to the body, providing essential warmth without adding bulk. This helps regulate your body temperature and keeps you comfortable during outdoor activities. Additionally, base layers are designed to wick moisture away from the skin, keeping you dry and reducing the risk of hypothermia. By pulling sweat away from your body, base layers help prevent chafing and discomfort, especially during high-intensity activities.

Base Layer vs. Thermals: Is There a Difference?

While the terms "base layer" and "thermals" are often used interchangeably, there is a subtle distinction between the two. Thermals typically refer to base layers specifically designed for cold weather conditions, with insulating properties to keep you warm in low temperatures. On the other hand, a base layer can encompass a broader range of garments, including those designed for moisture-wicking purposes in warmer climates. In essence, all thermals are base layers, but not all base layers are thermals.

Base Layer vs. Mid Layer: Understanding the Layers

To fully understand the role of a base layer, it's essential to grasp its place within the layering system. The layering system consists of three main layers: base, mid, and outer. The base layer sits closest to your skin and provides insulation and moisture management, as mentioned earlier. The mid layer adds additional insulation and helps retain heat, while the outer layer, such as a jacket or shell, acts as a protective barrier against wind, rain, and snow. Each layer works together to create a versatile system that can be adjusted based on weather conditions and activity level.

Is a Base Layer Meant to Be Tight?

One common question about base layers is whether they should fit snugly against the skin. The answer is yes. A properly fitting base layer should have a close, athletic fit that allows for maximum moisture transfer and insulation. A snug fit helps the fabric maintain contact with your skin, optimizing its ability to wick moisture away and keep you warm. However, it's essential to strike a balance between snugness and comfort. A base layer that is too tight can restrict movement and cause discomfort, while one that is too loose may not effectively manage moisture or provide adequate insulation.

Exploring Base Layers in Pakistan:

In Pakistan, where outdoor enthusiasts face diverse climates ranging from the freezing peaks of the Himalayas to the balmy beaches of the Arabian Sea, base layers are essential gear for any adventure. Whether you're trekking in the northern mountains, cycling through the bustling streets of Lahore, or playing a friendly game of football in Karachi, having the right base layer can enhance your performance and enjoyment.

Types of Base Layers:

Base layers come in a variety of materials and styles to suit different activities and weather conditions. Some popular types include:

- Merino Wool Base Layers: Known for their natural warmth, breathability, and odor resistance, merino wool base layers are a favorite among outdoor enthusiasts. They provide excellent insulation and moisture management, making them ideal for cold weather activities.

- Synthetic Base Layers: Made from materials like polyester or nylon, synthetic base layers are lightweight, quick-drying, and durable. They excel at wicking moisture away from the skin and are often favored for high-intensity activities.

- Silk Base Layers: Silk base layers offer luxurious comfort and exceptional warmth without adding bulk. They are incredibly lightweight and soft against the skin, making them an excellent choice for layering under dress clothes or for mild weather conditions.

- Thermal Base Layers: Designed specifically for cold weather conditions, thermal base layers are thicker and more insulating than standard base layers. They provide extra warmth and are often used for activities like skiing, snowboarding, and winter hiking.

Choosing the Right Base Layer:

When selecting a base layer, consider factors such as activity level, weather conditions, and personal preferences. Look for materials that offer a good balance of insulation, moisture management, and comfort. Additionally, pay attention to fit and layering compatibility to ensure maximum performance and versatility.

Base Layer Price in Pakistan:

Base layer prices in Pakistan can vary depending on factors such as brand, material, and features. High-quality base layers from reputable outdoor brands may command a higher price, but they often offer superior performance and durability. However, there are also more affordable options available for those on a budget, making it possible to find a suitable base layer for any price range.

Conclusion:

In conclusion, base layers are an essential component of any outdoor enthusiast's wardrobe, providing insulation, moisture management, and comfort in a variety of weather conditions. Whether you're braving the cold in the mountains or staying active in the city, having the right base layer can enhance your performance and enjoyment. By understanding the role of base layers and choosing the right options for your needs, you can stay warm, dry, and comfortable on all your adventures, no matter where they take you.

[freshthoughts2020]

[rioromanoffroses]

Ovulation

G!P Natasha Romanoff x Fem Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, masturbating, oral sex (R and Natasha receiving), finger sucking, dry humping, fingering, unprotected sex (P in V), overstimulation

Summary: You're ovulating while on a mission, causing you to be uncomfortably aroused. Luckily, the agent with you is more than eager to help you out...

WC: 4.1k

The motel was just like any other – grey, dusty and lit only by dim off-white. You would only be here for a night and when you pressed your hand against the cold metal of the radiator, you were glad. You debated whether or not you ask the receptionist about it but keeping your head low was key when travelling on an undercover mission. The more questions you asked and the more times your face was seen and captured by CCTV, the greater the risks. You decided against it.

You inspected the bedroom, following safety procedures which included searching for signs of any electronic devices but luckily, there were none. The bed was a small double with beige, striped sheets that were thinner than you would’ve liked. The back wall was taken up entirely by a sturdy, wooden cupboard that matched the tawny-brown, bedside tables covered in dust. You switched on the lamp and ran your hand over the mattress, noting that you would need to wear thick layers of clothing to bed. You assumed the other bedroom was the same but didn’t bother checking. The other agent could do that.

You sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing your forehead with the palm of your hand. One of the things you hated most about being a woman and a spy was the problems it caused when it conflicted with your cycle. Missions on your period were uncomfortable, draining and painful. Ovulation week was also a mess; you had no way of dealing with the surge of hormones it triggered while on a mission. You made a mental note to take a cold shower after the other agent arrived. 

You read over the intel for the upcoming mission while you waited for them, straining your ears for the door. It was a complicated mission; you had to infiltrate the base of a growing terrorist organisation and hack into their systems to gather as much information about them as you could. S.H.I.E.L.D. knew scarily little about the organisation so you were going in almost blind – anything could happen. 

The plan was for two agents, including you, to blend in as one of the terrorists to get into the base. You were unaware of the identity of the agent you were paired with. You were curious to know if they were someone you’d worked with before or a complete stranger. You assumed the latter – you were still young and hadn’t been assigned to many difficult missions yet. You tightened your arms around yourself, shivering as the light outside the window was sucked from the sky, the moon blocked out by an array of dark, restless clouds. 

“You look cold.” You jumped and leapt on your feet, spinning around to see a woman standing behind you. Her face was painted with a smirk and she looked at you with her hands on her hips, her jade eyes travelling up and down your body. You swallowed. How did you not hear her come in? S.H.I.E.L.D. weren’t exaggerating when they said she was the very best they had at espionage. You didn’t realise you were staring at her until she brought you out of your thoughts, “Cat got your tongue?”

“Uh, sorry,” you said, clearing your throat, “Yeah, I am. East Europe is always freezing at this time of year.” You could feel sweat trickling down your neck. Not only were you ovulating on a mission but you were stuck with an extremely attractive woman during it. You were so fucked. 

“Mm, it is,” she said, stepping towards you and offering out her hand. You noticed the electrified branches of azure and emerald running down her arms up to her fingers, pushing up against the skin, your heart thundering against your ribcage. You quickly pulled yourself out of your trance. You were a spy for goodness sake, not the nervous wreck or helpless whore your elevated levels of estrogen were making you feel like. You shook her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, “I’m Agent Y/l/n.” You pulled your hand away from hers before she could pick up on your clammy palms but unbeknownst to you, she’d already felt them. 

“I know,” she said, “I’m Agent Romanoff but to you, it’s Natasha.” You could feel your breath hitch in your throat. Natasha. You could already imagine how those three, pretty syllables would feel falling off your tongue. 

You dismissed your dirty thoughts immediately, feeling ashamed of yourself. She was a stranger and your teammate; you seriously needed to pull yourself together. She nodded to the file in your hand, “I see you’re already prepared for the mission.”

“I was just double-checking all the details,” you said. The tight, black shirt and jeans she was wearing hugged her in all the right places, her sculpted arms in full view to you. She must take her training seriously, you thought, I wonder how often she goes to the gym.

“Good,” she said, dropping her bag on the floor, “I already know I’ll enjoy working with you.” You placed your hands behind your back so she couldn’t see your fidgeting fingers. Your gaze fell onto the bag and you frowned.

“Oh, were you planning on sleeping in here?” You said, “I’ll move to the other room then.” She held her arm in front of you as you stepped towards the door. 

“There isn’t another room.” You felt your heart drop. You realised the other door must be to the bathroom. You couldn’t imagine how your situation could get any worse, “Are you unhappy with that arrangement?”

“No, not at all,” you lied, “I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.” You swallowed, hard. You started moving towards the door, “I’m going to take a shower,” you mumbled, not waiting for her answer. You fumbled with the handle, cursing under your breath and slammed the door shut behind you. 

You didn’t waste any time taking off your clothes and turning on the shower, sighing as the cold droplets collided with your burning skin. The water only offered you a few moments of relief, however. The more you thought about the redhead and how close you’d be together that night, the more you fed the raging arousal between your legs. It became clear that there was only one way you were going to calm yourself down.

You covered your hand with your mouth as you touched yourself, your mind overwhelmed by images of Natasha. It didn’t take long for you to reach your climax and you were certain that the sound of the shower and your hand had muffled out all your moans. You cleaned yourself before stepping out, drying yourself with a towel and getting dressed, praying that your body would be satisfied for the night. When you returned to the bedroom, Natasha was on the bed facing you, resting a pillow on her lap.

“You’re even prettier in real life than you are in your pictures,” she said, the unexpected compliment drowning you in butterflies. You noticed that her cheeks were flushed a bright red and her breaths seemed more laboured than before. 

“Really?” you said in disbelief. You had never seen yourself as unattractive but you didn’t think you were anything special either. You were nothing compared to the Goddess in front of you, that was for sure. She chuckled.

“You’re a humble one,” she mused, “How cute.” You couldn’t quite believe her words. Natasha thought you, of all people, were humble? You searched the room, looking for any kind of escape from the conversation and spotted a clock hung above the bed.

“It’s getting late,” you said, trying to hide your stutter, “I’ll sleep on the floor.” You knew it would be uncomfortable but anything was better than being next to Natasha. You’d slept in awkward places before so you’d just have to deal with it.

“No you won’t,” she said, shuffling to the other side of the bed and lifting the sheets, “There’s room for both of us, see?” The amount of room wasn’t the problem – it was the proxemics between you and the internal chaos your body was experiencing. How were you supposed to explain that to Natasha though? You noticed the moment your eyes fell on her that her autonomy wasn’t the same as yours so she wouldn’t understand your dilemma.

“Uh, okay,” you said, knowing you had no choice. You never sounded nervous or vulnerable, not even with your close family and friends. If embarrassment was a type of poison, you’d have collapsed in agony by now. You climbed into bed beside Natasha, turning your back to her. You were reminded of how small the bed was when you shifted slightly and felt her hand brush against the small of your back. You took a deep breath. You were in for a long night. 

She switched off the bedside lamp and to your horror, you could hear her unbutton her jeans and discard them on the floor. It was almost as if she was doing it on purpose. You tensed your muscles, forcing yourself to stay as still as humanely possible so there was less chance of you accidentally making contact with each other again.

“That’s better,” she mumbled and you felt her leg against yours as she adjusted her position to make herself more comfortable. You didn’t know how long it took for you to fall asleep with her body so close to yours, her breath creating goosebumps along every part of your skin that it hit. Unfortunately, you found out the hard way that your head was the worst place to escape to you in your current state. 

You woke up, gasping and blinded by the darkness around you. You pushed yourself up, feeling the slick on your thighs from the filthy dream you had just experienced. Natasha’s head had been buried between your thighs and you had been an absolute mess beneath her. You could honestly die from humiliation – how could your mind conjure up something so vile while you were sleeping next to her? As you were about to move off the bed and sprint into the bathroom, a light was switched on and you felt a hand tighten around your wrist. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Natasha said, a dark rasp accompanying her words, “You are not going into the bathroom to fuck yourself again.” Your eyes widened and you felt a tide of heat rush to your cheeks. She’d heard you. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said, “I shouldn’t have, it was really inappropriate of me…” She silenced you by straddling your hips, trapping you beneath her on the bed. Before you could react, you were distracted by the feeling of something hard against your stomach. You looked down to see Natasha in only her boxers, the bulge pressing against your abdomen straining in its confines. Your jaw dropped. It had never even occurred to you that there was a chance she’d want you too.

“I was going to let you make the first move,” she said, “But you took too long.” From how the other agents described you, she had been so sure your boldness and confidence would’ve caused you to spring onto her immediately. She was annoyed that she’d had to listen to you pleasure yourself in the shower without her but at the same time, Natasha loved that her presence had changed your demeanour so much. 

You gulped and looked up into her eyes, seeing that her iris had shrunk into a thin line around her blown pupils. You drunk in the sight of her on top of you, placing your hands on top of her bare, supple thighs, her skin like velvet beneath you. 

“Fuck,” you breathed. She tilted up your chin, running her thumb over your bottom lip, wanting a better view of you.

“Tsk tsk. Such a dirty mouth.” You knew you shouldn’t be letting her walk all over you but you were enjoying it more than you wanted to admit. She lifted herself off your body so she could move her other hand to the waistband of your trousers. She hooked a finger underneath the material, “Can I?” You nodded and she dug her nails into your chin, “I want to hear you say it.” You weren’t used to this power dynamic – you were always the more dominant one. 

“Yes,” you said, “You can. Please.” She grinned at your obedience and slipped her hand into your pants, feeling you drip onto her fingertips. She groaned.

“Oh God, you’re so wet already,” she said, “I could stuff you with my cock right now if I wanted to.” She removed her hand from your underwear and brought it to your mouth, pushing her fingers past your lips. You sucked her digits hungrily, tasting yourself on your tongue. The sight only drove Natasha even crazier but she also felt a pang of envy, wishing it was her cock in your mouth instead. You felt so good around her fingers.

After pulling her digits out of your mouth, she lowered herself onto your body and she didn’t hesitate to connect her lips with yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. Her lips moulded against yours perfectly and you moved in sync with her, your kisses becoming more and more desperate. She could taste your sweetness as she kissed you and she forced herself to forget about breathing, not wanting to pull away for even a second. Her hands cupped your face and you reached up to tangle yours in her hair, her lips staining yours with garnet lust. 

You pulled her even closer against your chest, your mind a buzz of her and her only. You let her tongue slide between your teeth when you felt it press against your bottom lip, making no effort to fight against it with your own. She swallowed your whines, her crotch grinding against your thigh. You had never hooked up with anyone before; you weren’t that kind of person. But you were willing to break all your rules for Natasha and give every part of you to her without hesitation. 

Her mouth moved to your jawline, littering your face with kisses, her hands trailing down your arms. You shivered under her feather-light touch, gasping as her teeth sunk into your neck, intending to leave a bruise that everyone else would see. She tugged at the hem of your shirt.

“Take it off,” she said. She leaned back to give you space to pull it over your head and unhook your bra before she pounced on you like an animal. She traced her fingers over your collarbones before venturing further down to your chest, her fingers circling your nipples. You arched into her touch as she caressed your breasts, her movements sending a spark straight to your core. You reached down to cup her bulge, noticing the wet patch on her boxers but she slapped your hand away, “No touching,” she snapped. 

“Please, Natasha,” you said, “I need you; it hurts.” She tutted.

“Patience,” she husked. She pulled away from you and started taking off her clothes, freeing her aching breasts before pushing down her boxers. Her erection sprang out from the material, the tip inflamed and ringed by an enraged red, pre-cum dribbling onto the sheets beneath her. 

She led back onto the pillow, giving you a full view of her body and you took a moment to admire her. Everything about her was a masterpiece – her facial features, her muscles, her curves. Her crimson hair was a mess around her shoulders and the front pieces had fallen forward, framing her face, “I want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours.” You shook your head.

“No, Natasha,” you pleaded, “It’ll feel so much better in my pussy, I promise…” You fell silent as her eyes burnt into you. You reluctantly crawled over to her on all fours, hesitating before wrapping your mouth around the tip. You tried to irk her, moving as slow as possible but she grabbed a hold of your head and started pushing you down on her cock. 

“Suck.” You gagged around her length as she started bucking her hips upwards so she was fucking your mouth but the sound only drove her more. It didn’t take long for you to start moving your head up and down her cock without any guidance, guttural moans escaping Natasha’s mouth from the warmth and skill of your tongue, “Fuck, that shut you up.”

Tears spilt down your cheeks as she hit the back of your throat over and over again, the vibrations of your whines sending even more waves of pleasure through her body. She lifted her legs onto your shoulders so you could grab onto her thighs, spurring you on even more, “I’m so close,” she breathed. Her thrusts were messy and out of rhythm by the time she came undone, spilling her cum into your mouth. You made sure to swallow it all. 

She pulled her cock out of your mouth, a mixture of cum and drool coating her length, some of it dribbling down your chin, “You did so well. Such a good slut for me.” She took a moment to catch her breath, watching with eagerness as you pulled down your trousers and your panties that were positively ruined, throwing them on the floor. There were tears of white running down your legs and your clit was visibly swollen. She smirked wickedly, “You want me that bad, huh?”

“Please, I’ve been a good girl,” you whined. You tried to reach for her again but she caught hold of your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Lie down.” You went to lay on your back but she grabbed your shoulders, her nails indenting crescent-moons into your skin before pushing you down onto your stomach. You gasped as her hand pressed against your cunt, her fingers running through your sensitive folds. Her movements were slow and deliberate, intending to increase your need but not give in to it.

“More,” you begged as her thumb massaged your clit. The smell of sex was heavy in the air and your senses were intoxicated by the vanilla and brown sugar fragrance of her perfume. She gave your clit a sharp pinch in response to your pleas, causing you to inhale a sharp intake of breath.

“You’re insatiable,” she said, “You’re begging to be fucked by a woman you just met. Like a whore.” You started rubbing your crotch against her hand, your motions erratic and frantic. 

“More, please,” you cried, your thoughts becoming incoherent as the need between your legs started to burn, “Please, Natasha.” She pushed two fingers inside of you, stretching out your entrance but making sure to avoid your g-spot. 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“I want you inside of me,” you groaned as she added a third digit to your cunt. Natasha started to play with her breasts using her free hand; she was burning for you just as badly as you were for and the sound of your begging only worsened her desire. It took all the strength in her body to hold herself back and not ruin you right there and then. She was so glad you couldn’t see her.

“I am inside of you.” You whined.

“I want your cock. I need it inside of me, please.” She grabbed hold of your hips, smirking. As much as she enjoyed seeing you so needy for her, her patience was wearing thin.

“Then you’ll take it all.” She suddenly rammed inside you without any warning, not being able to resist you for any longer and you cried out in shock. Your initial discomfort was drowned by explosive bliss as Natasha filled you to the brim, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. She was met with no resistance as she rutted into you despite her size which stretched you out deliciously. Your pussy was so much better than she could’ve ever imagined.

She flattened herself against your back, needing to feel more of you. She grunted against your ear as her hips slammed into your ass with each powerful stroke. You were dizzy with pleasure as her speed increased, your moans intensifying as she started to pound into your sweet spot. She was older and more experienced than anyone you had been with before which was evident in how she was making you feel. Your body was coursing with more pleasure than you thought was humanely possible. 

The knot in your stomach was tightening fast and the sounds of your wet cunt were echoing through the room, “Oh fuck, you’re so tight,” Natasha said, not caring about her dignity anymore, too lost in the sensation of your warmth clenching around her cock, “Tell me how you feel baby.” 

“I feel so, so good,” you said, “Please, don’t stop.” You looked back at her and she tilted her head so your lips could connect for a moment before her mouth moved to your shoulder. She sucked on the soft skin there, slowing down so she could sink deeper into your cunt. She could feel your legs trembling beneath her own as you pushed back in rhythm with each of her thrusts.

“How close are you?” Natasha didn’t want to admit it but she was already teetering on the edge, struggling to hold back from how well you were taking her. You could feel her movements become sloppy as more and more of your juices gushed from your entrance. 

“So close,” you said, your walls clenching even harder around her cock. It only took a few more thrusts before you could feel gasoline flood your bloodstream, ready to be set on fire, “Natasha, f-fuck…” You didn’t even have to say it.

“Let go for me,” she commanded. You let the knot in your stomach unravel, screaming her name as all the nerves in your body were electrified, sparks of searing light shooting across your vision. No drug could replicate the state of euphoria you were both lost in as your walls were drowned by white, your cunt milking her cock dry until there wasn’t a single drop left to give. You had never experienced an orgasm so strong, so prolonged, so incredible. You expected Natasha to stop after fucking you through your high but instead, she picked up her pace again. You whimpered.

“Natasha, that’s enough…” She pulled out of you and flipped you onto your back before slipping straight back inside of you. Your eyes widened. 

“What’s wrong?” she mocked, “You begged for my cock, slut. Isn’t this what you wanted?” She smirked when you didn’t give her an answer, already drowning in ecstasy again despite the building ache between your legs. You were losing your grip on reality as the new angle gave her access to more places inside of you and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you were overstimulated. 

She didn’t take her eyes off you, wanting to see your reaction to everything she gave you. You were growing more sensitive by the second and you could feel her cock throbbing against your walls each time you squeezed her, drops of perspiration gleaming on every inch of your skin. You reached up to cup Natasha’s breasts, the extra layer of stimulation pushing her towards yet another climax in record time. 

She started to rub your clit, hoping to speed up your release but it was becoming evident she’d have to release without you. You wrapped your legs around her waist, pulling her even closer and for a moment, she forgot your pleasure, getting too lost in her own. She tore her eyes away from you and threw her head back, panting like a dog. 

“Cum inside me,” you said and at the sound of your words, she didn’t hesitate, letting her orgasm crash into her body with full force. She moaned your name between gasps as she was hit by waves of bliss that slowly decreased in intensity as the milliseconds passed, pulsing through her entire body. She finally pulled out of you and collapsed on the bed. You both gasped for breath, your thighs and the sheets beneath you stained with lust. You were glad you hadn’t climaxed this time – you didn’t think you’d have survived it. 

“That was fucking incredible,” Natasha admitted, turning her head to face you. You nodded in agreement, too fucked out to form a sentence, your limbs still shaking from adrenaline.

That morning, Natasha woke you up with her cock between your legs, already hard and ready for another round. Her hands only left your body during the mission and three days later after its success, she didn’t hesitate to fuck you senseless until you passed out.

A/n - I have an idea for part two so let me know if that's something you'd like.

[shortnotsweet]

This technically applies to my Stepmother AU in which Alicent is around six years older than Rhaenyra, and occupies a wicked stepmother role as opposed to ex ‘friends-to-first loves-to-enemies’. Despite lacking the foundation of shared girlhood, both find simultaneous comfort and rivalry in one another, and undergo a gravitational pull. A young Rhaenyra’s eagerness to participate in swordplay and political affairs at a young is accommodated for, and she grows up with a sword in one hand and the weight of experience in another, which further helps pave her way to the throne.

Alicent’s Costuming

Alicent’s clothing is almost entirely bottle, emerald, or forest green. While there is layering present in her skirts and jackets, the accent should always be a darker green than the base color. The fabric is deep, rich, and retains an undeniably high-quality luster. Look to velvets and silks. Gold embroidery lingers around her sleeves, neck, and hemline to elevate the coloring.

Metallic embellishments should be almost military-like, and appear heavy. Contribute to the imagery of chains or shackles in addition to her status

Draws inspiration from historically accurate stiffness and Victorian shapes, with a tapered waist, imposing, puffy sleeves, and a high neckline. Despite inaccuracies, this shape is evocative of someone elegantly and conservatively feminine, repressed, and capable of exerting power over others. Reference a classic, trussed hourglass shape. Skirts should be notably heavy and full; may make noise in movement

The coloring and shapes remain relatively consistent but lack variation; this is to demonstrate a lack of freedom and exploration, as well as an adherence to conventional feminine roles

Despite these limitations, her costuming should always be put-together, coordinated, and unquestionably fashionable. Tight sleeve cuffs may be accompanied by a more traditionally medieval fan sleeve

Shoes should stick mostly to slippers, or flat designs

In this AU, her hair leans more towards a dark brown instead of auburn, as her show counterpart. This is mostly due to faux-book accuracy and to simplify the sketch process, since keeping her hair darker in comparison to Rhaenyra’s lighter hair translates more easily in uncolored renderings.

Keep her hair either in a tidy bun or pulled back and loose; avoid too many intricate shapes, braids, or styles. Occasionally, the hair will hang loose. Lean into medieval or royal headpieces, clips, coverings, etc.

Rhaenyra’s Costuming

Rhaenyra’s clothes are primarily black and red, occasionally accented or substituted with neutrals such as beige, white, or gray. Exceptions may include blue or yellow, but she generally stays in this color palette.

Strong focus is drawn to her shoulders and neckline, sometimes with embroidered or embellished detailing. She often has strong, angular shoulders in her dresses or jackets, occasionally theatrically pointed. Off-the shoulder necklines emphasize her collarbones and a certain broadness.

There should be decent variety in her clothing; there is a hypothetical outfit for every occasion and more (for battle, for riding, everyday, formal, feasts, everyday, etc.), and most should be composed of multiple pieces and utilize generous layering. This includes under-fabric, belts and corsets, jackets and doublets, draped fabric for aesthetic purpose, and even functional capes.

Most of her clothes should provide visual aid for movement; additional fabric to her skirts, for example. Her clothes should be highly stylized but still easy to move in. In riding and battle gear, it is presumed that she wears pants and boots under her skirts, even if they are not visible.

Shoes lean more into boot cuts, still practical but should have a sleek and uniform quality to them. When she walks, she should make some kind of noise. Shoes should usually be black or potentially red, the latter for decorative purposes.

Overall her style should be more contemporary and lean into the fantasy element. She’s not opposed to oriental details or showing skin, and her costumes should reflect both couture-height drama and period-reliant aspects. Longer lines and diagonal hems mean she is not as devoted to an hourglass shape, and her high collars should always be decorative in some respect.

Keep her hair long and mostly loose, sometimes pulled back. Small braids should be implied as incorporated. Occasional hairstyles feature complicated braids. With the exception of highly decorative braided styles, simple buns should be avoided unless accompanied with very high necklines.

Avoid headpieces that are not either a) her crown or b) ceremonial.

[mystsee]

MESMERIZED ✦ KEEGAN P. RUSS

✦ about: keegan is mesmerized with you since he first met you ♡

✦ content: NSFW +18, virgin!reader, afab reader, blood, guns & death mentions, panic attacks, misogyny

✦ a.n: the boots i kinda imagined are the moonboots!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

in the sun-kissed landscapes of italy, you, with your captivating charm and surprising intelligence, was dealing with a meeting with very higher ups in the politic world, things were going so far so good.

that was until your boss, a figure whom you trusted very much, revealed to you the news. a deployment to russia as a military translator.

nervous feelings ran down your spine, not from the revelation of a new challenge, but from the anticipation of russia’s frigid embrace. most of the time, you were assigned to help translate in missions involving trafficking, drugs, dark stuff like that. and having to translate for the “bad guys” involved them being not so nice to you. mostly because they don’t like a woman all up on their dark buisness.

nevertheless, you knew you were going to be protected, and the military people have never treated you wrong.

you prepared your clothes, having to use a bigger backpack due to all the puffy jackets, scarfs, you know, all cold related things. which you do not protest! the colder the weather, the better you can dress.

right now you had a puffy black jacket, warm leggings with a thick skirt attached! it was 100x more comfortable because now your ass didn’t have to feel all the cold seats anymore. and of course your puffy boots, thick beige fur covering the boots. one thing about you is your feet were always cold, making you use like 3 layers of socks!

you arrived late night, making the cold even worse but you managed to cover the lower half of your face with your scarf, seriously the cold was so bad in here. as you disembarked from the helicopter, the biting russian cold embraced you, making you shiver involuntarily.

you were greeted warmly by your captain “nice to see you again over here” he smiled warmly “i’m glad too, really missed the artic” he laughed at that, how could he be out here with only a small jacekt?!

he noticed your shivering frame, you thought you were hiding it well, making him start leading you through the snow-covered landscape over to base.

upon entering, all eyes turned towards you – a mix of amazement and curiosity danced in the gaze of your new colleagues, you knew your boots were quite attention catching, probably why everyone kept staring at you.

to say you were pretty was little, it was obvious everyone in the room found you beautiful, but you didn’t pay it any mind, again thinking maybe your boots were standing out a bit too much, not the way your thighs looked so good with the skirt on top, but! they would need to get used to see your babies, they were your go-to in cold weather.

however, one pair of eyes stood out, belonging to keegan. he almost looked mesmerized with you. he watched you stride with an unyielding confidence, almost model like, the skirt making your hips move so so pretty, that it was making it hard for him to stop staring at you.

somehow your eyes found his, thanking the heavens you had your scarf covering your cheeks because you were blushing so hard rn, his gaze lingered, an admiring intensity in his eyes that you almost tripped.

only his eyes, a window to the unspoken thoughts within, were visible, making you curious. as his fellow soldier spoke, keegan’s attention remained freezed on you, his focus unyielding, and the words of his comrade fading into the background of his silent admiration.

the spell was broken as soon as the captain opened the door to his office, inviting you in to debrief the mission with you. you were going with keegan’s team to help them gather intel, they were trying to find a very big drug dealer, and you translating, would help them find him faster.

tomorrow morning would be your first mission with them, yet you still didn’t know who keegan was, making it intriguing whom you’d be working with.

captain showed you your room, it was a basic military room, a twin sized bed in the middle, small vanity to your left, a desk in the other size to the room, and a small window, last but not least, your own bathroom.

you pleaded your boss to give you your own bathroom, there was enough experiences a girl can have in a shared bathroom used by men.

you started investigating about who you were translating for tomorrow, loosing the track of time. by the time you finished it was 3 am, making you worry a little, you were leaving tomorrow at 6 am.

you were almost going to bed when your stomach rumbled, making you internally groan, you knew that if you didn’t sleep, insomnia would make its way to you.

rolling your eyes you went to the kitchen, you thought everyone was asleep rn, so you paid no mind yo your outfit, a small cropped sweatshirt, leggings and fluffy slippers.

you were about to eat your slice of bread with jam when a sudden voice made you drop it to the washer “can’t sleep?” “jesus fuck!” you swore you felt your heart stop for a second, you never saw anyone in here!

you turned around to see the same guy from before, keegan, who just stared at you, seated in a chair with a book in his hands, it almost looked like he was trying to contain his laugh.

“what’s wrong with you!” you said with a smile laughing, he probably saw your bread jump to the washer “me? nothing, was just asking” he said it so proud of himself “how do you even read with all the lights off?” by now you had turned to him, still by the counter “i wasn’t reading, i was drinking tea” “oh” you never saw the cup of tea beside the book silly you.

“just know you ruined my dinner” you said pouting “and you asked my what’s wrong with me” he said scoffing “oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t eat late at night” “no i do princess, just not a bread with jam at 3 in the morning” his nickname made you stop your breath for a second, deciding to pay no mind to it “but you do you princess” he was by your side now, putting his cup of tea in the washer, until you saw him freeze next to you, there was small light coming from outside, oh yea, you had no bra on.

he could see see your breasts, your nipples to be precise, under your sweatshirt, practically begging to be touched, your sweatshirt was so small it had ridden up just a tiny bit when you were making your dinner, making keegan see a small part of your under breast.

“princess” keegan suddenly moved closer to you, making you see his eyes better, revealing a captivating shade of blue, a mesmerizing hue that held a subtle warmth within its cool depths, caught your attention.

his gaze, unwavering in its intensity, sent a gentle warmth through you, leaving a blush on your cheeks again, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection forged in that shared moment.

“you still don’t know my name” which was true making you ask for it, when he said it, he saw the realization in your eyes “oh! i’m working with you in the next mission” you said a bit breathlessly “glad to have you with us” you could see the deep appreciation for you in his eyes.

keegan had heard about you, he knew of your well-regarded reputation as a translator, held a silent acknowledgment of the confidentiality that shrouded your professional endeavors.

in the subtle lines of his expression, you could see respect for the enigma that surrounded you, a recognition that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. “thank you” you said, he just nodded to you, he was so close to you now you could feel his chest, and his chest could feel your nipples. you just held your breath keeping eye contact with him “well, princess, you must get your sleep, i won’t keep you up” you were in a trance when he moved, snapping you out of it “goodnight keegan” you said in a small voice. keegan smiled behind his mask.

ever since then, a connection quietly unfolded between you and keegan. it initially started as him being a distant observer, he always kept his eyes on you everywhere you went, even more when you were speaking russian towards the males, you held such confidence with you he was deeply allured with you.

his presence evolved into a silent shield, a comforting assurance amidst the unfamiliarity of a foreign land. he may couldn’t understand russian, but he sure as hell could see the body language and the tones they were speaking to you.

everytime he could sense any sort of verbal assault at you, his steely gaze fixed upon the adversaries with an intensity that spoke volumes, as well as his hidden raised gun;), sensing the weight of his silent threat, they found themselves silenced. even though you had no idea he was threatening them behind you.

you always knew keegan had your back, and silently thanked him for it. as the time passed, you felt keegan more protective of you, and you more attentive of him, you two were almost all the time together.

there were moments, a shared smile in the midst of icy winds, or a wordless understanding in the chaos of a mission, that spoke louder than words. in these instances, his protective instinct manifested – a steady hand guiding you through the challenges, a silent assurance that you were not alone. metaphorically as well as physically.

his interactions evolved into a touch that carried a warmth beyond mere protection. his gestures, once purely professional, became tinged with an affectionate familiarity.

a guiding hand on the small of your back during a mission briefing or a reassuring touch on your shoulder in moments of uncertainty, each contact seemed to convey a connection that lingered beyond the realm of your relationship.

these touches carried a feeling of something more, a silent language of shared emotions between you and him. in the hushed moments when his hand lingered a second longer than necessary or the gentle squeeze that accompanied a reassuring smile.

in the dim glow of the base's common area, keegan’s touches continued to weave a tapestry of unspoken connection. a shared moment over a map had his fingers brushing against yours, the contact lingering for a heartbeat longer than required, it was practically normal for you to be blushing around him now.

during a particularly challenging mission, his arm found its way around your shoulders, a protective embrace in the face of caos. in that moment you just wanted to be beside him all the time, you felt safe around him.

there was also a time in which keegan was behind you, listening to what you would be doing, until he felt rather not okay with what you were supposed to do. he suddenly put his hand discreetly on your waist, and the other arm in front of your chest, his hand subtly telling “no”

“she’s with us, meaning we protect her, what you’re saying is risky for her, she won’t do it” you felt warmth on your chest. you have never experienced this, the other teams you had been were never this attentive with you. it was a weird emotion for you, you were used to always seek for yourself.

in the quiet of the nights, a shared gaze held more than words could express. keegan’s hand, a reassuring presence, sought yours across the table, fingers intertwining with yours, squeezing your fingers every now and then. he did that more times than you could count.

the line between friendship and something deeper became increasingly blurred, leaving both of you suspended in the uncharted territory of unspoken emotions.

the endearing term "princess" slipped from his lips almost all the time, a word you loved hearing from him even though you never tell him. it became a private language, whether in the midst of a mission or during quiet evenings, the endearment echoed, making you warm inside all the time.

keegan’s feelings had transcended the boundaries of friendship, evolving into a profound connection that bordered into almost being in love with you.

his gaze, once intense, now carried a softness that showed a deep admiration, a mesmerizing allure that held him captivated in your presence.

his eyes just seemed to follow you everywhere, absorbing every detail of you, every facet of your being, as if etching your essence into his soul.

the desire to be with you became a palpable force, an unspoken longing that lingered in the spaces between conversations. the way his fingers sought yours, the way he leaned in, just a fraction closer than necessary – each action seemed to fluster you more and more.

you too couldn’t deny it, you felt drawn to him, but even with the warmth of his company and shared moments, there was a bit of confusion.

your feelings were kind of mixed up, wanting to connect with him but also feeling unsure about it. it’s like a struggle between what your heart wants and what your head is thinking.

you just don’t know how to respond to him :(

figuring out your own feelings became a bit like wandering through a maze, with no clear destination.

being close to keegan made you feel good, but accepting his love brought its own set of uncertainties. you tried taking things one step at a time, trying to make sense of your own heart and the budding feelings between you two.

until you just couldn’t anymore

you were in a very heated meeting with keegan, as always, behind you, talking to a very dangerous person, in a very dangerous place, at any moment now something could happen, making you feel on edge all the time there. you felt keegan’s hand hold your shoulder softly, reminding you he is here with you.

in the middle of the conversation, you saw in less than a second the man’s eyes change, from angry, to weirdly happy, like he was going to be free from all this interrogation. you were confused, until you heard it.

bullets and bullets and more bullets echoed in the building, as well as some passing through the windows in the small office you were. in a second keegan had moved you, shielding you from any possible damage

you heard him speak to the captain, the captain said they were under attack, making difficult to get out of there. you were alone inside with keegan and the man, he was tied to the table though, so you weren’t worried he would escape.

keegan held you behind his back, opening the door and checking if it was safe to go out. he made a clear sign and went to the right side. you were shaking of fear, you could hear explosions all over the place, the shaking of the floor, bullets everywhere, it was crazy.

suddenly a man spawned out of nowhere pulling keegan and tried stabbing him.

the military gave you a gun before you left, you had basic military training, knew how to use a gun, yet never needed to. but seeing keegan almost being stabbed made you react on instinct, you pulled your gun in less than a second and shoot the bastard. keegan’s was free from the man’s arm and shot another bullet between his head.

you just stood there, the adrenaline was making it hard to process what just happened, but you could feel your body trembling with fear, you may have possibly just killed a man. you’ve never done that in your life.

keegan saw the fear in your eyes “princess, hey, i need you to focus on me” keegan’s grabbed your face, you stared at him, worry clear in your eyes “you saved me and you’re a fucking badass for that” keegan’s appreciation words dragged you out of the dark thoughts you were falling to.

you both heard footsteps approaching you, making keegan grab your hand, tight, and walked to the other direction, you moved faster than him, adrenaline was making you rushed now, until you were about to move to the other corner of the hallway and saw armed men looking for, you supposed, keegan and you.

you pushed keegan back, startling him for a second, until he could hear the voices. you had a door next to you, keegan opened it and dragged you both inside. it was small, very small, yet enough for hiding. keegan turned you so his back was to the door, always protecting you first.

you on the other hand, was shaking shitless again, you could understand what they were saying, they were here for you, obviously not happy at all that you knew about what they were doing.

keegan once again tried dragging you out of your starting panic attack, he said your name twice trying to get your attention. you looked at him, you were very much fucking scared.

“hey, you’re with me, i won’t let anything happen to you okay?” you felt one of keegan’s hand hold your head softly, the other went to your back. you then realized he was hugging you, you were so close to each other he didn’t even need to moved you closer. you moved your hands to hold his back too, resting your head on his shoulder.

in the middle of the chaotic circumstances, keegan emerged as your anchor, his presence became the grounding point that helped you survive this.

it was then when it hit you, the realization, the profound connection that resonated beyond words. attempting to utter his name, you found your voice stifled by anxiety, your very core trembling with fear.

keegan, ever perceptive, tightened his hold around you, a silent reassurance.

as the threat passed by your door, keeping your mouth shut became a necessity, not just for the mission at hand but also to guard the burgeoning emotions inside you.

after a few minutes, you could hear them muffled, meaning they were far. keegan opened the door, still holding you, and looked out, he saw that it was clear “let’s go princess”

the next few minutes was you and keegan trying to get out of here, it was almost like a maze, the explosions seemed to calm down as well as the bullets. but there was still people looking for you.

you were about to turn to your left when a hand grabbed you from your neck, choking you, you tried to scream, but the man was fast, he suddenly pushed you to the wall, punching you in the face, almost breaking your nose, but you moved just in time your face, hitting you in the cheek.

you suddenly remembered you had a gun, you pulled it out, raising it fast to the middle of his head and shot him quick.

it was ugly, scary, and it glued you to your spot, all his blood soaked you, yet his hold on you loosened, making the man fall to your shoulder, surely staining your coat.

you were so fucking scared you thanked the lord keegan grabbed the man and lunched him to the wall behind.

you were again almost in shock, but keegan was in front of you fast “come on baby, we need to leave this hell” keegan kept dragging you, your body fully trusting him, because you were going into shock now.

you saw light, and finally you were out, a few dead people scattered on the ground, not helping you at all.

it until you saw the familiar humvee you felt slight ease. everyone saw your state, blood soaking all your face, dripping all over your coat. quite a sight. keegan just shakes his head to his teammates, silently telling them that you needed space now.

the soldiers admired you, even cared for you after all this time, it was clear seeing you like this worried them, but they trusted keegan, and they know you trust keegan too.

keegan helped you up the humvee, sitting next to you, you felt him whispering beside you “you okay?” you just nodded taking a small ragged breath, wiping your nose. you felt disgusting, you could feel the man’s blood dripping down your nose, the need to shower was strong right now.

keegan just softly held your hand, squeezing it to help you ground yourself, but you just couldn’t, you were so bloody anxious right now you couldn’t stop moving your leg up and down.

keegan felt it, slightly worried about you, he knew you’ve never been in combat before, let alone kill someone. you felt his hand slowly let go of yours, and put it on top of your thigh, making you halt your movements.

he kept it there slightly above your knee, massaging a little, not daring to move his hand up higher.

the ride to base was just the captain talking to someone on the radio, other than that, it was silent.

as soon as you arrived to base, you hurried out of the humvee, and fast towards the barracks, feeling the weight of the mission on your shoulders. you desperately needed the shower.

keegan stayed by the humvee, not following you right away. he stood there, giving you room. he could understand the impact of what just happened, and knew letting you calm down first was a good idea.

the letting you calm down time meant maybe you would come out of your room later, but now, it was 11:45 pm, and keegan was more than worried about you now. he had no idea you were still in the shower, living the past event over and over in your head.

you just couldn’t erase the image from your brain, just seeing the man’s eyes go lifeless in front of you, it was such a crazy thing to look at, and you weren’t dealing with it very okay.

you felt dirty, even though you cleaned your body more than twice. you had lost the track of time, you were so inside your brain you forgot to eat something. your stomach begging for food now, making you feel nauseous.

you just put on a brown long sleeve sweatshirt with some random leggings. you knew it was last midnight now, making it easier for you, you didn’t want to see anyone right now.

keegan, on the verge of heading to your room, noticed you entering the kitchen. your eyes were red, and your nose was puffy – the signs of tears evident. the concern on his face deepened as he observed the aftermath of emotions that had washed over you. he paused, recognizing the fragility in your demeanor, reconsidering whether to approach and offer comfort in this vulnerable moment.

spotting keegan in the kitchen, you froze in place. your hair, still damp, added a chill to the atmosphere, and a subtle shiver ran through you. keegan stood there, his worry evident in his eyes. the unspoken concern made you feel a twinge of guilt for disappearing, realizing the impact it had on him.

feeling the wave of emotions crash over you once again, tears welled up, and sobs escaped despite your efforts. a whispered "i'm sorry" escaped your lips, muffled by your trembling hand pressed against your mouth. the vulnerability laid bare.

in an instant, keegan was by your side. dressed in a simple black sweatshirt and cargo pants, he became your anchor once again.

his chest against your trembling form, you held him tight, as if seeking solace in the warmth of his presence. his hands gently cradled your head and waist, offering a silent reassurance, “nothin’ to be sorry about princess” you could feel his deep voice rumble in his chest “it’s okay”

his hand now gently petting your hair as you clung to him. between sobs, you began to express the guilt weighing on your chest. "i feel so bad for leaving like that" you admitted, the words punctuated by shaky breaths.

the shock of your actions you did a while ago lingered, casting a shadow on your thoughts. the vulnerability in sharing your feelings with keegan felt both liberating and daunting. it was a bad habit of yours, disappear whenever you felt any emotion that wasn’t happiness. it was normal to you:( even if it’s been more than 12 hours since you last emerged from your room.

keegan’s voice, calm and reassuring, cut through the heaviness of the moment. "it's okay," he whispered, his hand still tenderly stroking your hair. "you're here now, and that's what matters."

a flicker of strength ignited within you, and you stood a little taller, you pressed a tender kiss on keegan’s cheek, your hand lingering on his face for a heartbeat. his eyes held an unspoken love, you could see it clearly now.

keegan’s question for the kiss hung in the air, a gentle curiosity evident in his gaze. you felt his mask close and his breaths deepen, you took a moment, meeting his intense eyes. "it’s a thank you," you said softly, "for always protecting me."

his response was a tightening of the embrace, bringing you even closer. his face, now near yours, held an intensity matched by the deep breaths he took. in a rough voice deep with emotion, he confessed, "you driving me fucking crazy." the admission hung in the air, your cheeks flushing furiously.

a playful challenge danced in your eyes as you maintained intense eye contact. "what if you show me how much I drive you crazy?" you suggested, your doe eyes locked onto his.

a groan escaped him as he dropped his head to your shoulder. laughter bubbled from you, but your breath hitched as keegan shifted, causing your sweatshirt to ride up slightly. the short length and absence of a bra made you almost flash him your right breast.

keegan could feel it, in fact, he could feel your nipples pressed on him since he hugged you, making his pants feel tighter.

you felt keegan’s hand move up, near your breast, starting to massage there, making you blush furiously “may i remind you were are still in public keegan” you didn’t want anyone walk in on keegan almost touching your breasts, in the middle of the kitchen.

startling you in a swift motion, he lifted you off the ground, his strong hold on your bum leaving you feeling both surprised and strangely like jelly inside, and before you could voice your concerns, he began walking towards your room.

you were silently screaming at him about the possibility of getting caught, but keegan just tightened his hold on you more like squeezing your booty, effectively silencing you.

the situation didn't seem to faze him as he navigated the corridors, your protests muted in the intensity of the moment. the world outside seemed to fade away as keegan carried you and opened your door, leaving behind a trail of laughter and a flutter of unspoken excitement.

you thought he was going to drop you now, but no! he just went to your bed, and dropped you, making you bounce and laugh at what he just did “such a romantic” keegan just held the back of your legs and dragged you near his cock.

that motion made your shirt roll up, now showing him your bare breasts. you widened your eyes a little, but keegan looked like he was more enamored by you now “what a fucking sight i have” he couldn't help but revel in the intimate view of you beneath him. your eyes, filled with affection, locked onto his, radiating a warmth that mirrored the depth of your connection.

the air thickened with tension, and keegan couldn't ignore the tightening in his pants, a physical response to the emotional intimacy and the allure of the moment. “look how you make me feel princess” you could feel it, near your cunt, his big cock, making a big tent in his pants.

you just couldn’t anymore, you rolled your hips up a little, the sensation almost made you cum on the spot, but keegan just made a noise of disapproval “nuh uh, let me have my time with my princess yeah?” you blushed even more when keegan took a hold of your hips, and slowly moved his hands up, dying to touch your breasts.

when his hands finally felt them, he was on cloud 9. they were so soft and moldeable in his hands he could feel precum leaking from his cock. keegan lowered himself close your breasts, rolled his mask up, and licked your nipple making you moan.

he started sucking on your nipple like a man starved, while the other hand groped your other breast, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his fingers. you were panting, his hands were god sent, as well as his mouth.

that’s when you felt the sudden urge to kiss him. and you couldn’t wait anymore. feeling the magnetic pull, you took charge, gently dragging his face upward to meet yours. in a bold move, your lips crashed against his, a collision of desire and longing.

a sound of contentment escaped keegan, emotions flowing between you like an electric current. the world outside the moment ceased to exist as the intensity of the kiss spoke volumes, an unspoken exchange of emotions and desires woven into the fabric of that stolen, passionate embrace.

keegan deepened the kiss even more, angling your head better, he was heaven sent. in the heat of the kiss, your hands, seemingly of their own accord, found their way to his mask. it became an unconscious exploration, a touch laden with curiosity. unexpectedly, keegan broke the kiss, startling you, and swiftly snatched away his mask.

in the soft glow of the small light, his face was revealed, and you found yourself enraptured by the sight of him.

"you’re so beautiful" the words slipped from your lips almost involuntarily. a deep resonance of satisfaction echoed in keegan’s chest, and without a moment's hesitation, he dragged you up. seated on his knees, you found yourself straddling him, his hands on your waist and bum, fondling with it making you whine, as your lips met again in a deep, intoxicating kiss, yet you felt needy.

involuntarily you moved your hips, grinding right on his cock, making him groan deeply “fuck baby, you’re going to make me cum” knowing he was as aroused as you made you feel even more needy, making you grind your hips even more.

keegan’s hand took a hold of your hips, making you stop your movements. you whined again, even surprising you, you’ve never met this side of you, so needy of someone.

keegan's touch on your face was soft, almost reverent. he spoke with a gentle intensity, "i want to worship you. let me." the request hung in the air, and you, captivated by the depth of his gaze, agreed with a simple nod.

with deliberate tenderness, keegan laid you back onto the bed, his hands moving to the fabric of your clothes. He began with your sweatshirt, each movement deliberate and unhurried, as if unraveling the layers of vulnerability and desire between you two. as he raised your sweatshirt up, his hands once again touched your breasts, making you moan lowly.

keegan just smirked, having removed your sweatshirt, he then proceeded to shed his own shirt. the unveiling of his toned body drew an involuntary blush to your cheeks. his eyes caught yours, and a playful smile graced his lips.

"like what you see?" he teased, the husky timbre of his voice adding a layer of seduction to the moment. the air hung heavy with anticipation as you met his gaze, your response a silent affirmation that echoed in the space between you two.

keegan, still holding your gaze with an intensity that spoke volumes, continued his deliberate exploration. his hands, deft and unhurried, moved to your leggings.

with tenderness, he peeled them away, revealing more of your vulnerability. the room seemed to pulse with shared desire as each layer of clothing fell away, creating an intimate tapestry of connection between you and Keegan.

you were only with your panties on now, and keegan with his grey boxers, not hiding anything, making you slightly anxious, he looked very big, and you’ve never done this before.

a sudden realization gripped you, and you couldn't help but say, "wait" keegan, on the verge of sliding your panties off, halted immediately, his expression shifting to one of concern.

nervously, you confessed, "i’ve never done this before." the vulnerability in your admission hung in the air, an unspoken plea for understanding and patience. the room, once charged with desire, now held a new layer of intimacy.

keegan, surprised by your revelation, felt a renewed sense of responsibility. he looked into your eyes, the desire tempered with understanding, and reassured you, "i’ll go slow. we’ll take it at your pace."

his words carried a gentle promise, a commitment to make you feel at ease in this intimate moment. keegan then slowly slide your panties off, your cunt now bare and displayed in front of him. keegan just stared at it for a second, absolutely beautiful he thought; all shiny with your slick, begging for some attention. and who was he to deny it.

one thing about keegan, he loved foreplay, and you, you liked it too, but he’s made you cum twice! fingers and tongue involved, you weren’t complaining, but you really wanted his cock now.

from where you were, you could see his boxer stained with precum, making you whine, you were past needy now “i need you keegan, please” keegan heard the whiny tone from you, making his cock even more hard.

“such a needy princess aren’t you” keegan swiftly removed his boxers down, his cock sprang free on his stomach. your mouth was watering just seeing it. it was big, veiny and thick.

you didn’t think it, you were on all 4s now, keegan was looking behind dropping his boxer when he felt your mouth on his cock, making him hiss loud as well as whined “fuck princess, what are you doing?” you could hear his voice strained, like he was containing himself.

you didn’t answer, it was your first time doing this, yet you felt confident when you swallowed almost his whole cock down your throat, making keegan’s hands grab your head, pushing you deeper, making his eyes roll back.

“who taught you this?” he was a panting mess now, you kept bobbing your head up and down, using your angelic hands to grab his balls, swollen with his cum, massaging them, making keegan go all over the edge.

he didn’t warn you, just grabbed your head dragging it all the way down, thrusting his big cock down your throat, moaning loud. you decided to look at him then, giving your best puppy eyes you could, making keegan mesmerized with you, you could see all his reactions from here, his stomach clenching, his mouth panting, and his eyes full of love.

“i’m gonna cum love” you felt keegan trying to move his cock out of your mouth, but you just grabbed his hips, pushed them to you, and moving your tongue around his veiny cock.

keegan cummed on the spot, thick white ropes of cum going all the way down your throat, you as the princess you are, swallowed it whole, keeping your hand on his balls, feeling them clench everytime he cummed.

you were sure keegan was about to pass out now, that was the hardest orgasm he’s ever felt.

his desire was evident in the intensity of his gaze, deciding to take charge. his hands gently grasped your head, lifting you slightly making you put your hands on his big muscular chest. a deep, intense kiss ensued, each meeting of your lips sending a shiver through your body.

keegan murmured a sweet praise, "you’re such a beautiful good girl aren’t you?" he was still in his post orgasmic state, making you laugh a little, but this man had a very strong stamina.

you could feel his cock hard again in between your stomach making you put your hand on top of his slit. he bucked his hips a little “come on now” he said with a strained voice “let me make you feel good” desire evident in his voice.

keegan laid you down on the bed, moving your thighs open, letting your cunt once open to him. keegan not waisting a second now, aligned his cock with your cunt, dragging it up and down your folds “stop teasing keegan” you said pouting.

it took you by surprise when you felt his tip in your entrance, making you stop your breath for a second, keegan was smirking now, how easy it was to shut your needy ass up.

“i’ll go slow yeah? you tell me if it too much princess” keegan started sliding his thick cock insided your virgin cunt, it felt weird, a slight burn everytime he slide deeper.

keegan on the other hand was in awe, he saw your cunt swallowing his cock inside, inch by inch, your puffy clit at view too. in a second keegan had his hand on your clit, slowly circling it, making you moan, allowing his cock to slide further.

once he bottomed, he stayed there, he was still on his knees, allowing him a beautiful view. you had your knees next to your breasts, his cock swallowed by your cunt, your face flushed.

he couldn’t wait anymore, keegan dropped his forearms next to your head, and started grinding his cock inside your cunt. you felt so full, and him grinding was almost hitting your womb, making you moan loudly. “keegan you’re so deep” you said frowning from pleasure, your nails were on his big muscular biceps, hanging on for dear life.

“does it feel good?” “very fucking good” you said moaning the last word, keegan had his head hidden on your neck, his pace now a bit faster, balls hitting your ass everytime he thrusted, the skin to skin slapping sound resonating all over your room, creating such an erotic scene.

keegan then raised his head and kissed you deeply, his hand holding your head softly, you could feel him even deeper now. he had you on a mating press, his chest squeezing your breasts making your nipples stand out even more “you feel so fucking good princess” “this cunt belongs to me yeah” “you’re all fucking mine”

keegan kept saying this small praises everytime he thrusted, but what made your orgasm come quick was when he said you were his. yes you were. you were his since you met him. he was there for you ever since then, always by his side, always his.

“y-yes i am” keegan’s intense gaze was on you now “i’m yours keegan, all yours” he hit a particular spot inside you that you saw stars, moaning loud “say that again princess” “i’m yours” keegan was about to cum just from hearing you say that.

“and you’re all mine” you kissed him hard when you said that. keegan never thought you were the possessive type, yet when he heard you say that, you could say he fell in love even deeper “you’re all fucking mine keegan” you started meeting his thrusts with your hips, your clit rubbing with his stomach making your orgasm come fast.

keegan could feel it, you were clenching stronger now, almost making him stop his movements “you cumming princess?” that goddamn nickname was going to be the death of you “i want to cum with you”

your needy voice made keegan tighten his hold on you, and thrust deeper, and slower. keegan grabbed your face and kissed you, his other hand rubbing your clit. making you cum hard.

keegan cummed in an instant too, feeling your cunt clenching around his cock too, your orgasm so hard you closed your eyes. he cummed inside you, sliding even further, letting all his cum coat your walls with him. only him.

he stayed there for a while, letting you come down from the high. you were breathing hard, his cock now softening inside you, yet you didn’t want him to come out yet.

you used your feet to hit him on the hips, making him slide a bit more “stay here for a while” keegan caught the message, you wanted to cuddle. with him still inside you.

you were a sucker for cuddles, and touch starved. so when keegan laid down, still inside you, and dragged you almost on top of him, you felt shivers down your spine.

as keegan’s arms enveloped you in a tender embrace, a warmth spread through you, reaching the neglected corners of your soul. the gentle cradle of his arms was a stark contrast to the void you hadn’t realized existed, a reminder of the absence of such intimate touch in your life.

his arms forming a protective cocoon around you, fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. the rise and fall of his chest against your back mirrored the rhythm of shared breaths, creating a serene melody.

it wasn't just the physical closeness; it was the profound sense of being seen and held, a silent promise that in his arms, you were cherished and safe.

a few minutes had passed when you felt keegan sitting up, you as well on his lap, making you pout “don’t make that face” he said condescending “i need to clean you up yeah?”

keegan carried you all the way down your bathroom, again, still inside you, and seated you on the counter. he took a really long look to your breasts. such beautiful breasts just sitting there, making him want to hold them again.

“enjoying the view” you said in a proud tone, keegan just moved his eyes to your face and laid a small kiss to your cheek. you started feeling how keegan slid his now soft cock out your cunt, once it was all out, he just stayed there, looking at both your cunt and his cock “look at the mess you made love”

his cock was full of his cum, and yours, you felt all his cum slide out of your cunt, now on the counter, the sight making keegan’s cock start hardening again, and you saw that as well.

you just stared at him, beautiful doe eyes, and grabbed his cock. “can’t get tired of this cock huh?” you just smiled, stood up, and dragged him to the shower. that was the best shower sex you’ve ever had.

after the shower, keegan was behind you like a lost puppy, just wanting to be near you, touching your waist, squishing it, as well as your bum, all while you were doing your small skin care.

and on bed? keegan was even more cuddly than you! he said, scratch that, obliged you to be the little spoon. now you had his beautiful face right next to you, his hand drawing small circles in your waist, going near your breasts to tease you, your legs tangled beneath the sheets. you could get used to this.

“so, for how long have i driven you crazy?” keegan heard the cheekiness in your voice, you probably knew keegan was head over heels for you, acting all dumb to torture him, making keegan groan behind you “i’m going to keep it with for a while”

you laughed, putting your hands on top of the one that was on your waist, dragging it near your lips, planting a soft kiss there. when you kissed his hand, an unexpected tenderness surged within him, like a flood of warmth.

in response, he hid his face against your neck, as if to shield himself from the cascade of emotions, laying a few kisses here and there. you really could get used to this.

♡

AHHHHHH the end ;’[ i love fluff, was deciding if splitting this into chapters but i got carried away and made it a one shot jiji

hope u liked it!

[szkunas]

FLAGS EVERYWHERE. ୨ৎ are jjk women green, beige or red flags?ㅤheadcanons

featuring ♰ㅤmultiple. (mai, maki, nobara, shoko, yuki, yorozu) + honorable non-binary, uraume.

warning(s)! ♰ㅤNO PRONOUNS AND ANATOMY FOR READER. SFW (?) — toxic behavior ! cheating ! breaking-up mentions ! very much made based on personal opinions + i tried to write the characters off as canon as possible, but my favoritism will probably show ! violence + blood + death (mentions) ! cannibalism (mentions) ! angst (some) ! some are implied yandere ! not really all dark content but i will tag as so just to be sure, some of them are dc vibes ! yorozu is a massive warning ! sukuna mentions ! mentions of marriage + forced arrange marriage !

୨୧ MAI ZENIN — green / beige flag.

surprisingly good, once you get past the barriers.

despite what it initially seems like Mai is a heartless bully, she is not as cruel as people think.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? emotional barriers and selfishness.

initially, it is very difficult to get past mai's irritable temperament. she is provocative, and has a certain mischievous aspect to most things. at first glance, she's a bad girl like some character from a 2000s movie. still, once you get past that rough layer and get to what's underneath, you'll see that her heart is soft and very pure. she wasn't open to love, but your arrival could definitely change the course of her thoughts on the matter.

the selfishness part is not as prominent. mai alternates between being very selfish and being very selfless. it's a strange combination, but the way she grew up and was raised in the zenin house made her very defensive and not very open. it's a problem, but not incorrigible.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

the answer is: no, but it is preferable that you are. most life has always been and will be about sorcery. this is the world she was born into, and she will die in it, whether she wants to or not. with so little energy that she could only create one bullet a day, she became more accustomed to the prospect that the people around her would, by nature, be better and stronger. it's a rotten feeling, and it fills her with envy in an almost insurmountable way. the sensation is worse when it comes to her sister. that would extend to you, and regardless of your strength, she thinks it would be more acceptable for you to be a sorcerer.

still, if you're not a sorcerer, there is a certain beauty to it. for her, it was unacceptable, but a lot of you made her see the actions and prohibitions of her clan with different eyes. not that she likes the place very much, but we are a product of the environment in which we were raised, and let's face it. no one finds the zenin house pleasant. if you are not a sorcerer, she relaxes even more in the face of the normality that surrounds your relationship. simply, no more worrying about debates and curses, about big clans and politics. just cute dates where she buys you a coffee and says it was because she had money left over (she likes to buy you things.)

WOULD SHE CHEAT ON YOU?

absolutely not. mai grew up watching the men in her family commit adultery in the rooms of the house and the women filling themselves with drink and medicine to endure it all. she doesn't intend to become that woman or allow that to be the kind of person you become, either. your relationship faces many problems, but after the initial stages, she becomes motivated to become a better person, for you. to give you what you deserve, the best version of herself.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

something very difficult to ignore in your relationship is the zenin clan itself. like every young woman, mai faces a dangerous fate ahead of her. after maki left the clan behind, this ended up reinforcing expectations of her, which include marrying and having many children with a sorcerer that the zenin will choose. it is the fate that every young woman in a clan must be content with, because demanding humanity in jujutsu and clan zenin as a woman is unthinkable. still, she didn't think much about it. it's the kind of thing you avoid thinking about because it gets on your nerves.

however, after you started dating and when she realized that she really loved you, it started giving her nightmares. her fear of what the clan would do to you if they found out is surreal. she knows you could never be together under normal circumstances, they wouldn't allow it. her collar seems tighter every day, and in desperation, sometimes she hides money under her mattress, thinking that maybe one day, she can run away with you. maybe one day, when fate is knocking at her door, mai will be forced to run away with you.

she didn't fight for her freedom on her own, not after maki left. the spiteful thought of her sister leaving her behind rather than staying at rock bottom with her still haunts her. sometimes she holds your hand a little tight while she watches you sleep. she wonders, if she asked, would you be at rock bottom with her, instead of wanting something better? it is selfish of her to think that.

maki is also a delicate situation. all of mai's family has some issues with her, but her twin sister is a special case. even though she loves maki, she feels constant envy and has a huge problem comparing herself to her. it gets worse if you know maki personally. sometimes mai gets so paranoid that she thinks you would choose maki over her. just the idea hurts.

୨୧ MAKI ZENIN — green flag.

isolating, barely communicating, but she tries her best and we love her for it.

everyone's favorite restricted (sorry, toji) is actually a better girlfriend than people think.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? emotional barriers and distancing.

very similar to her sister, maki is very used to not letting people into her heart. she is seen as harsh, strong and very scary, even by those closest to her (panda, toge, yuta, etc). but just like the folks in jujutsu high, she might warm up to you and allow a glance through her defenses.

the hardest thing to deal with in maki is not her temper — but her habits. she's used to doing things for herself, whether it's wielding a weapon or finishing dinner because someone burned it down. her habits are very strong and as difficult to break as her emotional walls, which are there so she can avoid getting attached to you and getting hurt because of it. but, again, nothing incorrigible. be patient, and she'll open up.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

in my opinion, not really. it would be okay if you were one — being more able to defend yourself and all —, but it honestly does not matter to maki. not one bit.

out of all people, she couldn't care less about someone's cursed energy or technique, because she understands strength comes from various sources. she is a varied source. she would find it okay if you were or weren't, too.

WOULD SHE CHEAT ON YOU?

never, ever. sincerely, maki is the type of guardian friend that keeps this behavior as a girlfriend. if someone is flirting with her, she normally gets upset enough — but while in a relationship with you? oh, it makes her nearly able to commit a murder or two. like, c'mon. can't they see the ring? her arm wrapped around your waist? the way she keeps trying to pull you closer, to have you hanging over her as near as possible?

are they blind?

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

honestly, almost everything with maki is extremely indirect or just hinted towards. if you notice the little signs, you can easily tell how much she cares, even before your relationship officially begins. how much she insists you take coats when it's cold, or the way she's started to conveniently take sweets and small snacks that you like with her. little things like that.

she is more vulnerable than she would like to admit. especially after shibuya where she was burned alive and had to wonder if you were still out there, alive. the scars not only marked her body, but her mind as well. it has changed in many ways since the beginning of the year. you understanding that and understanding her, supporting her, is just one of the reasons why she loves you.

she's extremely perceptive, so don't even think she won't notice something. even when she's not watching you like a hawk, maki can notice small things easily. did you change your hair? she'll be the first to notice. are you not eating much and seem a little sick? she will ask what is wrong. have you bought any new clothes, even if they look like ones you already have? she says it will look great with one of her coats.

maki is a little overprotective, but only at first. she also understands if you need space or time to yourself. she is possessive, but not in the crazy way.

her most striking trait in the relationship is how unafraid she is to say that you are together. she's very proud — of you, and of being with you. and maki isn't shy about telling anyone that, or kicking the ass of anyone who doubts or makes you doubt yourself. yeah, she's your girlfriend. everyone unhappy with it can go to hell.

୨୧ NOBARA KUGISAKI — green flag.

a girlfriend who is certainly very passionate and happy, nobara is a chaotic one to deal with. but once you're settled with that? oh, you're on.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? she is extremely passionate. about everything.

not that much of a red flag, honestly, but it can be a handful. if you are a more calm and centered person, you may have problems with this nature initially. nobara is very instinctive, sincere and not afraid to say what she thinks. she loves fashion, she loves fighting, she loves feeling beautiful — sometimes the amount of things she does, and the most dangerous ones, become overwhelming.

of course, her passion also extends to you. her loved one, her amazing (she makes a point of mentioning) significant other. it is not a bad thing on it’s own, but sometimes nobara can be very adamant about you staying away from dangerous matters (most part of her life), or trying to scare someone away.

despite that, she truly loves you, and nobara is proud of saying it out loud. and poor is the soul of megumi fushiguro, paying for his lost best (that itadori would get a girlfriend before her) when she introduces you.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

honestly, no, but it's preferable that you are. nobara grew up in a small town that she came to hate, taught by her grandmother how to use jujutsu before entering jujutsu high. it's a super inspiring, motivating background, depending on the angle you look at it, but difficult to explain to the person you're flirting with if they know nothing about jujutsu.

nothing that matters that much, but she feels she would be more understood if you were a sorcerer — bonus points if you're not from a clan or anything. just raised from difficulties and mundane in everything else, like her.

WOULD SHE CHEAT ON YOU?

no. that's, simply it. nope. nuh uh. no way in hell. not in a million years.

if any idiot is flirting with her insistently, she'll be tempted to hit them with a hammer. cheaters and idiots get a bonk!

you and her only get love, though.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

nobara is a girl of steel, but she loves to be feminine and sometimes even fragile (not that those two things are related). she valuates anything that seems truthful and supportive to her — being it carrying her bags for her or hold her while she watches a movie, or killing bugs for her. simple things build even more trust and affection for you.

she's clingy, even though she won't admit it. total little spoon, who loves being carried and treated as a princess. in exchange, she'll give you the royal treatment as well. the type that yells yes! im their girlfriend! suck on that! proudly after you achieve something.

are you permanently invited to movie nights, shopping trips and her small walks around the town. and she is more patient with you, in case you are taking her things and end up dropping them.

she gives advice, speaking openly and honestly what she thinks, and doesn't hide opinions, but she's a great listener, as well. nobara is always ready to be at your side in whichever you might need — offering her shoulder for you to cry on or asking if she should get her hammer.

୨୧ SHOKO IERI — green flag.

probably really biased, but i think shoko is the best option on the list. you’ll see why.

the exhausted, smoking doctor we all love. why not find true happiness while listening to I don’t smoke and holding a pretty woman’s hand, right?

BIGGEST RED FLAG? she is hot and cold. distant and clingy.

being the third person in a trio can be quite distressing. not that shoko doesn’t value the friendship she has with satoru, far from it, but sometimes she feels very left out. as if the world was only about satoru gojo and suguru geto and their damn moral problems. it’s irritating, to think that gojo isolates himself from her when she’s right there, always has been.

for this reason, and because she doesn’t have many other friends, and none in the non-jujutsu sphere, shoko alternates between two defense mechanisms against abandonment. it’s one of the things she most despises and scares, and she can either acquire a calm and distant nature or one that’s clingier and even more affectionate than normal, afraid of you leaving her. surprisingly, you can handle this easily — just be honest about what you feel, how you do not like this behavior. she will listen the wake-up call.

once that is handled, and you express your feelings about it, she starts therapy to aid her keep the relationship. you’re something she refuses to lose.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

no, not really. a small part of hers might prefer you aren’t. shoko lived as a doctor and a valuable healer in the jujutsu world. devoid of technique, but skilled with reverse energy, she is essential to the jujutsu school. her friends and technically, family, are all sorcerers, or those who aren’t, come into contact with jujutsu in some way (usually unpleasant, like yuta okkotsu and itadori yuji).

the idea of having a non-sorcerer partner, but one who is unaffected by these horrors and the knowledge that there is something more than normality, is an attractive idea. normality and simplicity would be good for her, but frankly it doesn’t matter. if you were not a sorcerer, she wouldn’t introduce any of the jujutsu to you initially, afraid of you getting hurt. however, opinions from friends (thanks, nanami) can change her mind — and while it’s complicated to resolve a fight over your girlfriend lying for so long, it would be even worse if she lived a lie forever.

WOULD SHE CHEAT ON YOU?

not. a. single. chance. simple and easy.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

shoko is a very skilled healer, and there are a lot of people depending on her every day. it weighs on her shoulders like an anchor sometimes. this weight can lead her to isolate and withdraw, and experience anxiety or depression. many sorcerers or anyone involved in jujutsu go through difficult periods constantly. you need to know when your girlfriend’s distance means “i want space” or if she’s desperate to be saved. it can be quite exhausting.

shoko has many self-destructive tendencies. smoking itself is a great example. even though she heals her lungs with reverse cursed energy she will hurt them even more later. she is more delicate than she looks.

during much of her life, shoko adopted the role of caregiver. a doctor, nurse, coroner and multiple other things, she is everyone’s supportive friend, even if no one comes to her rescue when she needs help. being with you makes her show this nature often, initially hiding it when she’s feeling bad so as not to worry you. however, by understanding how serious she is about being with you, she allows herself to lean on you and encourages you to lean on her. together, united, so that one does not overload the other.

she has problems, like everyone else, but most of them disappear after an honest conversation or when she herself realizes her own flaws and encourages herself to become better.

୨୧ URAUME — beige / red flag.

much like a man being invited to ladies night, uraume is not a woman. but i will write them here for convenience.

one of the greatest traits of uraume that everyone knows is that they are very loyal. unfortunately, this only applies if your name is sukuna ryomen. otherwise? ehhhh...

BIGGEST RED FLAG? devoted to sukuna.

let’s face it, no one who is so loyal to a cannibal can be considered trustworthy. sukuna is a cruel and unscrupulous man, and uraume is undeniably his right-hand. they are the cause of pain and suffering that spread through decades. they accept the kind of behavior sukuna exposes, and they might even encourage it, at some rate. this is not something to wish for in a relationship.

besides, you will always be the number two in uraume’s life. they swore loyalty to sukuna, they will follow through it until death.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

not really. it is difficult portraying uraume with anyone in general — much less a non-sorcerer. but i honestly think that uraume is their own person, and even though they are someone who is reserved, they have their own taste in personality above power or strength. it's one of the reasons they admire sukuna, of course, but surprisingly, i can see them not dating a sorcerer.

although, if you are not a sorcerer, prepare for one hell of a ride. sukuna will torture you for fun, and uraume will allow it.

WOULD THEY CHEAT ON YOU?

no, i think. but because a very specific thought hits me. for example, i can’t see sukuna and uraume having anything sexual or romantic in any shape or way. with him so uninterested in all of that, there’s not really any options for them to cheat you on with. but, i suppose it can be said they would, if uraume could get with sukuna.

you can make your own judgment about this one, though.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

being with uraume means making sacrifices and accepting that, yes, you are important, but you will never come first. as already mentioned, you are permanently stuck in the “second priority of uraume” position, because sukuna exists. and even if he hadn’t been resurrected yet. from the moment uraume woke up in a new body, their goal has always been clear: to bring their master back and serve him in the best way possible.

it’s possible that sukuna will use you to mess with uraume. this could mean several things. clearly the king of curses has a respect for his most devoted servant, but that doesn’t stop him from getting bored. uraume’s loyalty was never put to the test before you showed up, and it will be one day. in case uraume deserves some punishment, when sukuna tortures you and uses reverse energy. heal to hurt, only to start all over again. uraume watches, impassive and cold as the ice they produce, and will confess privately that it was one of the worst experiences of his life. but they will never lift a hand against their master. uraume will fight anyone to protect you, except if the attacker is sukuna.

be prepared to stand alongside the greatest accomplice to ever walk the earth. uraume knows the consequences and the harm that sukuna brings, but they don’t care, they won’t stop him. beyond morality, uraume’s loyalty cannot be broken, not even by you. in a way, you will also become an accomplice.

୨୧ YUKI TSUKUMO — green / beige flag.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? distant (physicially).

yuki has a reputation that precedes her in the jujutsu world: the special-grade sorceress who refuses all missions, takes payment anyway, and uses the money to travel. you constantly receive souvenirs, souvenirs, and gifts from the other side of the world, but nothing will compensate for your girlfriend’s affection in the form of a warm hug.

she constantly tries to bring you with her, but it can all be very overwhelming to you. new cultures, languages you do not speak, people side eyeing you. besides, you can’t, because of work and other matters. the idea of being financially dependent on yuki is very scary. since without her, you would easily be on the other side of the world, without money. obviously, she would never leave you in that situation, but it’s an idea that runs through anyone’s head.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

honestly, i am tempted to say yes, because having a non-sorcerer partner goes against much of what she shows herself to be interested in, but yuki is a very kind and determined person who is not afraid to speak her mind and go after what she wants. she will tell you what type of guy he is as easily as she would flirt with you if she were interested.

despite that, i think it does not matter to her, honestly.

WOULD SHE CHEAT ON YOU?

that's a very easy assumption to make, seeing as you haven't seen yuki for endless months and both you and she need relief (emotional and sexual) eventually. however, contrary to what many believe, no. she wouldn't cheat.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

no matter how passionate and well-intentioned yuki is, she will rarely be able to truly be present. video calls and daily calls don’t really satisfy any of you ── that’s when they’re possible, thanks to the time difference. it’s easy to understand how a relationship like this can become unbearable and even unsustainable after a while.

yuki is very busy, so even when she is back from her long and time-consuming trips, she won’t have one hundred percent of her time to dedicate to you. meetings, research, more scolding from society’s superiors. little time for motorcycle rides and cuddles, if you ask her.

looking at the big picture, yuki would be a great girlfriend if she just made a little more time to spend with you and try new things together ── instead of trying things out and then telling you everything in a video call at four o’clock in the morning.

୨୧ YOROZU — red flag.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? she is yorozu. just kidding. devoted to sukuna.

yorozu is a complicated case. she has few redeeming qualities, but you can understand that she is an attractive, intelligent and, in a way, powerful woman. knowing chemistry and physics before those concepts were properly delved into, she discovered new things to her power. but she is simply unbearable in one aspect: her determination in relation to sukuna ryomen.

this determination makes yorozu’s life goal become to kill and marry sukuna. it’s even impressive that she found a partner, and she makes that very clear. does the opportunity arise? well, you’re not important anymore.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

i think so, but that's a more personal view. yorozu seems more attracted to power than to the sukuna's personality aspect itself, which demonstrates that what attracts her to a person is raw and pure power. considering the time she came from and her traditional ways, this would be, for her, related to cursed energy. so yes.

WOULD SHE CHEAT ON YOU?

if you consider the whole thing with sukuna. and that she would cheat on you with sukuna. even if there is no one else for her besides the two of you, between you and him, she wouldn't choose you.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

frankly, yorozu’s part is very short because she appears in about six chapters, causes chaos, fights and dies. also, i think her character has a lot of potential and little use, but trying anyway. yorozu is extremely determined to have what she wants, a woman who wouldn’t give up for anything in the world. if on the one hand, this is positive ── she doesn’t give up on her relationship ── it is also negative. she won’t give up her search for the king of curses’ heart, even if she has to rip it from his chest.

it’s exhausting knowing that, in some ways, you’re a replacement for what yorozu can’t truly have. it’s hard to say whether pure and true love really matters to her, as yorozu has her own specific and disturbed views on love. it is likely that she will not be loving in the relationship at all, and will manipulate you in order to keep you with her.

yorozu has a goal and the means to achieve it. once she gets close enough, she knows her presence will be more of a hindrance than a help. she entered the relationship with you with the mindset that one day, she would have to get rid of you. but a part of her heart warms. yorozu wants to do it herself. no henchmen, no tricks. just her and you at her end ── which must be worthy and brought only by her. with her, you’re likely to end up stabbed in the heart, while she looks into your eyes and presses her lips against hers one last time, tasting the blood. this is her goodbye to you, before she leaves for her true love.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGIZE FOR ANY MISTAKES. thank you for reading! <3

[demilypyro]

fashion is easyyyy all you gotta do is:

- top (shirts and the like) be the main color

- bottom (pants, shorts, skirts, etc.) either match the main color or be a unobtrusive base (black, beige, and other such 'boring' colors)

-shoes can really be any color but you get bonus points for having them match/compliment the main color of your outfit

-the final touch is simply adding a layer! throw on a zip up hoodie, flannel, sweater, or any other garment that will give the outfit some more pizzazz!

-the layer color isn't as important to match but it is fun to do!

those are my awesome fashion tips!!! but never forget the most important rule which is to be yourself and have fun :))

What if my shirt has a cool print of an anime girl on it

[seattlesellie]

୨⎯ a helping hand ⎯୧

pairing: loser!ellie williams x fem!reader x dina nolastname synopsis: ellie's too shy and too nervous to take it all the way with you, and thank god dina's right by her side. warnings: weed, smut, mdni, soft dom!dina, awkward top!ellie, sub!reader, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving) authors note: this is based off of a request i got but accidentally deleted since i'm a little braindead ˚ ༘♡ ✧༺♡༻∞

It was thick, and and hazy, and the pungent smoke hung lazily in the air. The scent was… captivating. It wasn’t bad — no, it was a tad skunky and earthy, citrusy. Piney too, and a little bit of spice. 

Something that smelled sickly sweet wafted through the air. It was almost intoxicating— The way her Jasmine and Vanilla fragrance mixed with the musk and and the resin. 

Dina took the skinny spliff in between her fingers. 

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

Silence. 

Ellie’s eyes took a on a reddish hue. They were glossy, and bloodshot. She wore this languid, almost dreamy expression on her face. It rendered a slight droop to her eyelids and a gentle, unfocused gaze. She always got like this. 

She was not quiet— no, she was relaxed, calm. Shoulders dropped down, she wasn't hunching, she was perfectly serene, slightly manspreading on the velvety, emerald green colored couch. A piece of lint landed on her faded beige khaki’s, and she flicked it away gently. 

Everything seemed to move so slow. 

“Are you gonna let go of that blunt, D?” you questioned, lazily grasping and squeezing Ellie’s light blue stress ball in your palms. You caught her playing with that when she kissed you, once — Just a mere week ago. 

₊˚⊹♡

“Are you playing with your fidget while we’re making out?” Your voice was breathy and faint, just above a whisper. You could taste her on your tongue, bordering going on cotton mouthed. 

“No — no, I’m — It’s…” she stammered, and let the ball fly out of her hand and land on the concrete floor. 

An awkward silence. 

“You make me nervous” 

₊˚⊹♡

“It’s not a blunt, babe, It’s a spliff.” Dina took another drag, and handed it to you. 

“Whatever.” you shrugged. 

It caressed down your throat, a slight burn tingled in its wake.

Ellie always loved the way you smoked. A well manicured hand squeezing the bud between your fingers, the way your eyes were forced completely shut when you took a hit, the way your eyelashes fluttered while you exhaled. In all honestly, Ellie just thought you were very pretty. It was not the reason why she dated you; you were funny, and smart, and sweet — and the way you laughed made her stomach tie in knots and her heart feel like it was trying to leap out of her chest and leave her still as a corpse. 

But that “pretty” part, made her very, very nervous. 

She shifted on the couch, lifting her legs up to rest her chin on top of them. Ellie couldn't help but look, examine the way your chest heaved up and down, with her gaze fixed on you. She had a bit of a… staring problem. You saw her gaze from the corner of your eye, and smirked. 

“Can you two stop with your little sex games?” Dina's voice pierced through, breaking Ellie’s trance. 

“Sex games?” you probed, followed by a small huff. This wasn't a sex game. No, no... this was — purely innocent. Just two gals, who happen to be fresh as a daisy lovers, staring at each other while their best friend is in the same room.

“Ellie’s staring at you like she wants to fuck. I’m not a ghost — I’m here too, hello?” She waved her hand from side to side. You could tell she’s here too, you’d be lying if you said nothing in this living room screamed “Dina’s house!”. A silver menorah that’s been laying on the kitchen counter since Hanukkah, with a layer of fine dust collecting on top of the highest branch, a white crocheted mandala hanging slightly loose over the flat TV, bright colored crystals, and some dark ones too — splattered all over the antique mahogany table. Yes, Dina was definitely still there. 

But still, so was Ellie. And being around Ellie… made you want to… Well — Sex games? Is that how Dina put it? 

“We’re not doing anything” Ellie murmured, reaching over to take the spliff out of your hand. Her touch lingered a tad too long, lengthy finger softly caressing yours. Maybe you were? 

“You can go to the bathroom if you want. I wont peep” Dina suggested with a grin. That little devil. 

Ellie almost choked as she exhaled, You chose to ignore. 

“Promise?” You asked. 

“Swear.” 

Ellie huffed, Yeah right. 

“Gimme” Dina whined, signaling Ellie to pass her the half finished spliff. 

“I’m not done” Ellie’s defended, and took another hit. Her eyebrows were hunched together, and a small line had formed, creasing right between them. God, did she look pretty too. 

“Give it, bitch” Dina moaned, and abruptly took the spliff out of Ellie’s wet mouth, Ellie groaning in response. 

Dina rolled it between her fingers, and gave it a small squeeze. 

“Ew! You fucking drooled over it!” 

“Fuck you man” Ellie hissed, bumping lightly into Dina’s shoulder. 

“But seriously… Where’s like—“ Dina inhaled, blowing the smoke into Ellie’s face. 

“Dude—“ Ellie huffed, waving her hand in the air as if attempting to disperse the thick smoke that enveloped them. 

“Where’s the wildest place you had sex?” Dina questioned, as she smushed the spliff on the ashtray, then casually picked off some leftover tobacco from the table, absentmindedly wiping it on the red ceramic surface.

Ellie felt her cheeks turn an adorable shade of light pink. She was a blusher, you soon came to realize. 

The sex thing... that was an issue — Well, it wasn’t necessary an “issue” but it was… a thing. 

You and Ellie hadn’t had sex yet. ₊˚⊹♡

two full months of dating, resulting only in heated make out sessions. Sure, Ellie played with your tits, breathy and panting, and you almost came when she made you jump up and down her creamy thigh, crossfaded and washed by a sudden burst of extreme boldness, but that was that. When you lifted your skirt up to let her see what was underneath (that day, was a mint green colored lace thong) she hastily pulled it down, followed by a whispered “m’sorry”, and when you pouted, nauseous and incredibly embarrassed, she calmed you down with soft delicate butterfly kisses on your nose and on your forehead. 

“Wanna take it slow” she mumbled, her cheeks turning a rosy pink, lips curling down to a pout — almost matching yours. 

Maybe she didn’t really like you like that, you wondered, hugging your pillow, hot tears smearing all over the bedsheet. Maybe you weren’t attractive enough, perhaps she saw you more as a friend… A friend she liked to kiss and only kiss, a friend who made her stomach flip and her mind race, but still, only a friend. 

If you knew that Ellie spent the entire night after that glorious encounter with her purple vibrator in between her legs and a pair of your panties stuffed inside her mouth, perhaps you wouldn’t have cried. Perhaps… you wouldn’t have been embarrassed. Thing is, you didn’t know. So you didn’t kiss her hungrily after that, and you didn’t sit on her lap just to watch her get flustered like you always used used to. You kept your distance, respected her boundaries, and pretended to let it go. Small pecks, hand holding, and one kiss on the pulse of her neck — That’s how it went. 

₊˚⊹♡

You crossed your arms, and fixed your gaze on the yellow colored wall behind Dina. 

“We made out in Jesse’s bathroom” Ellie said quietly. That you did, right after Jesse’s birthday party, you needed to “Clean the bathroom” because “A girl threw up and made a mess”

Dina rolled her eyes, and turned to face her. 

“I asked about sex” 

“Mhm” Ellie hummed, feeling her toes curl inside her Chuck’s. She wasn’t going to get this. 

“Don’t know why you need to know so bad” 

“I'm just... curious," Dina stated, her smirk growing wider as she looked in your direction.

“You two seem like freaks.”

Ellie bit her lip so hard it almost bled. She couldn’t look at you, too embarrassed to see the look on your face, so she looked at the ashtray, examining its sleek cover. Would you pout again? just like you did when she pulled your skirt down? will you look angry? sad? disappointed? 

“Cmon” Dina grumbled. 

“I wont judge —“

She glanced at you.

“Promise.” 

You looked at her like you wanted to shut her lips tightly together with a piece of tape. 

“It’s been kinda dry for me and I’m trying to live vicariously through my best fr—“ 

“We haven’t had sex yet.” Ellie blurted. 

The room fell silent. 

Ellie’s eyes were glued to the table. 

Why the fuck… would she say that? 

Dina cleared her throat, her gaze fixed firmly upon you. Her lips hinted at a grin, but she suppressed it, pressing them together into a straight line.

“Oh” Dina quietly said. Noted. 

Ellie shifted on the couch, and mumbled something you couldn’t hear under her breath. Could have been a “so nosy” or a “fuck off”, but alas, it was barely above a whisper. 

“Happy?” she murmured. 

“Just…” 

Dina flipped her hair to the side, brushing her fingers through the thick, black strands. If you sat any closer, you would have been able to smell her pistachio-almond shampoo. 

“Surprised” 

“Pass me the weed? I wanna roll another one” Ellie groaned. 

“I dont have any” 

Ellie ts’kd, attempting to divert the conversation everywhere but towards what had just happened. Avoid, avoid, avoid. 

You sat quietly, manipulating the stress ball, squeezing it so hard your knuckles almost strained. 

It’s not like Dina didn’t know everything about you, because she did. It wasn’t confessing to some clueless stranger, this was Dina. And still, it hurt. You knew she wouldn’t judge you, never. But you — you would judge you. And that was worse. And now, this wasn’t an unspoken thing anymore. It was out there, waiting to be pounced on. 

Maybe… maybe you needed that. 

“Fuck” Ellie huffed. 

The room fell silent again. It wasn’t the smoke that made the air feel thick anymore. 

“Can I ask…” 

Dina turned her body to squarely face Ellie. 

“Why?” 

“No," Ellie stated bluntly, her voice tinged with raspiness and hoarseness. 

“Was it like this with Cat too?” Dina asked. She always knew how to hit the fucking jackpot. Cat. 

“No, t’wasn’t” Ellie rolled her eyes. 

“Can you let it go?” 

This was a conversation about you, that you didn’t even participate in. Until you did, because you truly couldn’t help yourself. Was it you? Did Ellie just… Did Ellie just like Cat better? 

“Is it me?” Your voice was shaky, soft and quiet. 

She wanted to say no, Wanted to ask Dina to just let it fucking go. 

It was silent for a moment again, till it wasn’t. 

Ellie took a deep breath, slid off the couch slightly as the need to hide under it slowly overtook her. She crossed her arms.

"Yes"

You felt something turning in the pits of your stomach. 

“Oh” you whispered, god, that was painful. It was you. 

Dina’s mouth fell agape. 

“No— not like that” Ellie retreated. 

“No it’s… I get it. S’fine” 

There was nothing Ellie needed more than a punch in the gut to knock her out and a fat blunt intertwined between her fingers. 

“You don’t get it though” 

“Think I’m gonna…” You hastily started to look for everything you needed. Sunglasses, purse, keychain. You weren’t doing this. 

“Gonna go” 

“Hear her out, babe… Sit” Dina calmly suggested. It was as if she knew exactly what Ellie had in mind. It was you, but not like that. How could it ever be like that? 

“Just… Fuck” Ellie mumbled. 

“Cat — she didn’t… Can you sit down?” 

You stared at the floor. Maybe you should sit down.

“Okay how do I—“ Ellie began, scratching her head. 

“How do I explain this?” She looked at Dina. Yes, Dina knew. 

“Calmly, and with reason.” She squeezed Ellie’s bicep, followed up with a small, breathy “Fuck you” from Ellie. 

“Cat didn’t make me nervous like you fucking do, man— She didn’t make me rethink every single step I took and kissing her— Fuck” 

Silence again. 

“Kissing her didn’t make me feel like my legs were fucking wobbly or whatever.” 

“I dont wanna disappoint you.” The way it came out of her mouth, so real, and so raw… you looked… wide eyed. 

“Ellie…” you whispered. 

“Why would you disappoint me?” Gosh. Give her a little squeeze! 

“Because what if I don’t fucking know how— What if you don’t like the shit I do and what if you think I fucking suck and leave me and—“ 

“Can I say something?” Dina interrupted. 

“No, Dina” Ellie nudged her. 

“Ellie shut up, you’re rambling and it’s probably turning her off more th—“ 

“S’not turning me off” It was your turn to interrupt now. "You don't know how?" the brunette asked Ellie, with a teasing smile. Oh, she was making fun of her. Ellie barely picked up on that, too frustrated by her own thoughts running circles inside her foggy brain.

"I do know how— Just... fuck, Dina, just let it fucking go" 

“I can help.” Is all she said. Quiet, but confident. She could help.

“What?” you were stunned. Maybe she had a printed guide? A 101 on lesbian sex? 

Dina rolled her eyes and flashed her pearly whites. 

“Remember that time… when you slept over?” She had to stop herself from grinning again. Her tongue was bumping her cheek, like a naughty little chipmunk. 

“What time?” As if there weren’t dozens of those times. 

“That… Time” Dina tilted her head slightly.

“Don’t know what time youre—“ you rambled, soon to be cut off.

“Ellie—“ Dina turned around to face her, yet again. 

“I fingerblasted your girl” 

“What the f—“ Ellie blurted, and her mouth fell wide open. 

“Dina!” you yelled. 

“I’m just—“ She lifted her hands up in defense. 

“I wanna help because it clearly felt good and—“ 

“Are you on fucking drugs?!” Ellie blurted, and immediately stood up. 

“I mean we fucking smoked, Ellie” 

It was almost comical — how fast paced all of this… situation was.

The room felt silent again. How many more times could this happen? awkward silences, questioning looks. 

“I’m saying I wanna help you, El” 

“Let me show you” Dina’s voice was quiet. Genuine. Begging… almost? 

Ellie stared at the floor. And then at you — and then at the floor again. She could feel her hands grow clammy, and a droplet of sweat forming and flowing down her neck. Show her? why didn’t that make her feel nauseous? Why did she feel it in her fucking crotch?

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ellie shook her head.

“Only if it’s okay with you” Dina murmured softly, and gave you a warm, calming look. Comfort — Dina. 

“And with you.” She took Ellie’s trembling hand and gave it a small squeeze.

"I can show you just what I did." 

Ellie dropped her ass on the couch, and fuck — if her legs didn’t feel so fucking wobbly again maybe she would have stayed standing up. But she sat, her legs slightly parting. 

“Okay?” Dina quipped. 

Ellie gulped.

“I won’t steal her from you… I’ll be your… tutor?” Dina questioned, a sly smirk forming on her lips.

“Dina” You and Ellie said in unison. Ellie glanced at you. She felt ashamed, she felt sweaty, sickly, and too fucking turned on to move a muscle. 

“Let me take care of this” She sounded genuine. Like she truly wanted to help. No grin, no smirk, no attitude, just long eyelashes batting softly as the sun sank lower in the west.

“Okay?” she quipped softly.

“Okay”

Dina smiled so wide she had to bite her entire cheek to stop herself from fully crumpling down on the floor. 

You glanced at Ellie, then Ellie glanced at you. She still couldn’t… fully look, But this was something. A small agreement. 

“C’mere” Dina patted her thigh softly. 

It took you a moment, but you took up on her invitation. Hesitantly, you crawled slowly towards her. When you lifted yourself up in order to sit on her bare thigh, her purple thin linen shorts ending right where your ass met her leg, Ellie felt it in her guts. Her face twitched, maybe in jealousy, perhaps in confusion, but none of it mattered, since her clit throbbed inside her boxers. She didn’t know what was more painful, seeing you — sitting directly on your best friends thigh, getting felt up by someone else, or the aching of her own cunt.

“And I won’t kiss her if you don’t… want me too. Just show you, okay?” Dina whispered. Always so fucking attentive. 

“Mhm” Ellie hummed, as her mouth felt too dry to form any real, clear sentences. It was as if time stood completely still. She could stop this, she could. She doesn’t want to.

Meanwhile, you, you were trembling all over. It was almost too much — and nothing even happened yet. Dina's thighs were soft, and her scent tickled your nostrils. Vanilla, jasmine, almonds, and a hint weed. Her chest was firm as it brushed your back, two soft mounds caressing it. She let out a long breath that lingered on your neck, you hummed softly.

“Ellie… come closer” she whispered.

“Get on the floor… right between my thighs, okay?” It was the way she had said it, that got you. The way it came out to soft, so delicate, as if she was trying to comfort her, make her feel safe.

Ellie slowly crawled right where she needed her.

Dina bunched your skirt up just a tad, revealing a little bit of your upper thigh to Ellie. She sat directly in front, almost as if she was watching a movie, the bystander that she was. Her chest rose up and down. She’s never even seen that part of you yet. 

“This okay?” Dina whispered in your ear, her saccharine voice making your entire body shudder in response. 

A barely audible "Yeah..." slipped past your lips, barely more than a whisper, breathy and faint.

“Ellie?” Dina questioned, adverting her look to face the girl. 

“Have you seen it yet?” 

“N… no” she huffed. Her clammy hand formed in a fist, short nails digging crescent little moons on her palms. She hasn’t seen it. Of course she hasn’t. She’s barely seen anything.

“It’s so pretty” Dina teased, bumping her nose into the crook of your neck.

“She has a really pretty one” she whispered, and began slowly pecking your shoulders. 

“You gotta make sure you treat her good.” kiss. “Make sure she’s wet for you” kiss.

Ellie was breathing like she had run a marathon in the Sahara desert for 18 kilometers.

“Do you wanna maybe… Move her panties to the side?” 

Ellie gulped, you almost heard the fat glob of saliva slip down her throat. her mind almost went entirely blank. This could not, under any circumstances, possibly be real.

Another moment of silence. 

“No?” Dina questioned, running her fingernails down your thighs. She pinched one of them, pulling the fat between her fingers, making you jolt in her lap. 

“Yes” Ellie groaned. 

“Fuck I wanna—“ Fast paced, and needy. Slurring her words and trying to stop herself from fainting on the floor.

She jolted forward, practically leaping towards you.

“Do it…” Dina teased. 

Ellie’s hands were shaky, and her movements were agonizingly slow. As she brought her hand up your thigh, slightly tugging on your skirt, playing with the hem of it, you felt your mind melting completely off. You could only whimper in response. 

With an unsteady pull, your skirt was down. It stood pretty right above your feet.

“God” Ellie groaned at the sight. All she wanted to do, was lay her head on top of Dina’s thighs, as if they were two soft cushions, and stare till her mind completely liquefied.

“Did you pick them just for her?” Dina teased, taking both of your hands in her palms. You hummed in response.

“She’s such a sweet girl, isn’t she?” she looked towards Ellie. Ellie could barely make eye contact with Dina, let alone with you.

All she could do is moan softly in response.

“You can do it, El”

“F—ffuck off” she hissed.

She slowly moved the fabric to the side, and her eyes almost closed entirely shut when she unraveled your drooling, messy cunt. She could see the big wet spot on your panties, and all she wanted to do was suck the juices completely dry, clean them with her tongue until all that was left on the soft cotton thong was her own saliva. she wanted to digest you whole, taste the sweetness running down her throat, but all she could fucking do was pull them to the side, and let out an incredibly harsh breath— bordering on a grunt, almost a whimper. 

“Isn’t it so fucking pretty?” Dina cood, patting your pussy lips softly, each little pat making you buck your hips forward. She played with the sticky strings of slick that hung loose in the air.

Ellie ran her fingers through them, as if they were the strings of her guitar.

You — poor you, didn't even know where to look. 

All Ellie could do was hum, and stare like a tortured, bordering on perverted soul.

“Tell her” Dina commanded. 

“Tell her how pretty you think it is” she parted your puffy lips slightly, revealing the beautiful pearl that resided inside. The cool air, mixed with Ellie’s breath, so so close to where you needed her, made you shiver.

You thought you could come with just her looking into you, examining you as if you were some sort of art work, the most beautiful one she’s ever seen, with details carved by the Gods themselves, a pretty little button, a hole that clenched in and out— inviting her in, and lips like gentle curtains, soft and ethereal.

“Its so… fuck” She huffed. She could feel her mouth watering, the soft muscle hiding inside slowly grazing the top of her mouth. 

“So pretty” 

Before you could move and react to Ellie’s praise, Dina plunged a finger directly inside your greedy hole. Small, delicate, sheer little bubbles made perfectly round of your own juices formed on the tiny tip of her middle finger. 

“Ow fuck!”

Dina, quickly as ever, smeared them all over Ellie’s plump lips. 

Ellie fucking whimpered, and babbled about how good it tasted, and almost instinctively licked all of the gathered slickness that formed on her mouth. 

“Thats a good girl” Dina smirked, patting her fingers on Ellie's left cheek. 

“Dont fucking good girl me” Ellie hissed, almost falling to her knees when she heard the needy, long, high pitched moan that escaped your lips when Dina caressed your cunt again. 

“I see how it is” Dina nodded, grinning like the little minx that she is. 

“Tell her” She whispered. 

“Tell her how good she’s being for you then” 

Ellie gave Dina a questioning look, and stared at your hazed expression. You were wheezing, it was all so fucking much. Dina’s finger slipping in and out, Ellie staring and panting like a cat in heat, and the way Dina started slowly but surely, grinding your hips back and forth to meet Ellie’s hungry, desperate gaze was making you see a million galaxies every time you dared to close your eyes shut. 

“You’re being so good” Ellie whispered. 

“So good” she repeated. She was telling it to herself, now. 

Dina’s middle finger began forming slow circles on your clit, making you whimper out quiet sobs into her neck. 

“Look at her… I think she likes the circles”

She fastened her pace, making you cry softly.

“Tell her you like them”

“I li— I like the circles… God— yesss” you hiccuped, bucking your hips faster and harder towards Ellie’s face.

The way she looked at you, like she was absolutely ravenous, was inexplainable.

Ellie sat on her knees, legs slightly parted, both of her hands laying on the plush of your thighs. Forcefully, she parted them further apart.

She was utterly hypnotized by the way Dinas fingers pinched your swollen clit between her fingers, tugging at the little button. Every time she gave it a little slap, and stopped those agonizingly slow circles she was forming, almost as if she was creating something out of clay — Ellie noticed how your eyes completely shut, she noticed the juice leaking from your hole directly into your ass, making Dina’s thighs glimmer as the slick created a small, sheer puddle on her thighs. 

Ellie had to stop herself from taking her pants off and grinding on the fucking floor. 

“You like that baby?” Dina cood, plunging two fingers inside of your hole, pumping them in and out slowly. She made sure she was putting on a show for Ellie. 

“M’— oh fuckfuck” you babbled, feeling it jolt inside of your stomach. 

“You ready? Ellie? Touch her fucking clit” 

“I c—“ Ellie panted pathetically. 

“Make her come, c’mon, make her fucking come” Dinas voice was breathless and desperate. Somehow, she managed to keep it stern. She was in charge, for now.

Ellie’s fingers met your cunt, pinching your puffy outer lips together, her gaze fixed directly upon it, marveling in how louder you got when it was her who had her fingers caressing you. Dina made you feel good, sure, but it was Ellie who made the coil in your stomach tighten. It was her you craved. 

You needed her. 

“El—Mph— Ellie” You cried, as you felt her movements grow faster and faster. She wanted to drown herself in it, at last — her mouth was on you. She gave no warning, was she truly the student here? 

It was fervent, and warm, and the tight, pink muscle caressed you everywhere, from your clit, and then lapping up the juices gathering in your entrance, it all happened too fast. 

The thing is, she couldn’t help it anymore. 

“Put your—“ Dina breathlessly mumbled. 

“Put your finger inside when you eat her out” 

Her ears perked up, and she obliged. Ellie pumped them in and out, so long they almost grazed your cervix, over that one sweet spongey spot inside, rendering you almost unconscious. 

“Fuckkk” Ellie hissed, as she hungrily kissed your clit, sucking the sensitive little button in between her lips. 

“I wanna fucking—“ Ellie panted 

“Dont you dare keep your mouth off of her, Ellie —"

"You like when she does that?" Dina mumbled, gripping your tit with her left hand, her right one opening your puffy lips together to let Ellie's fingers slip inside easier, quickly pumping in and out like she was trying to win a race.

"I love it— oh god" you babbled. You were almost riding Ellie's entire face, your thighs clenching around her.

"Make her cum Ellie" Dina tugged the taller girls hair.

Oh, she fucking did. 

[hier--soir]

raising cain | 001

din djarin x ofc

pairing: spy!din djarin x spy!ofc rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: at a private gala in berlin, two agents slip inside, uninvited. unbeknownst to one another, and working for seperate agencies, they prepare to bring the same target to justice. the only problem is - one of them wants him dead, and the other wants him alive. who will succeed? will the strange connection they feel stop them from completing their mission? warnings/tags: modern au, spy!din can bring them in warm or he can bring them in cold, ofc is named + has short hair + is french, alcohol consumption, brief + unemotional mention of being an orphan, violence [including impersonal violence between din and ofc], descriptions of blood and injury and [briefly] brain matter, murder, very brief mention of sex trafficking, sexual tension like hello, choking [sexual and non sexual], ofc has an interesting relationship with pleasure and pain, fingering [not technically in public, but certainly not in private], kinda dom!din, explicit rough unprotected piv sex... on the floor... carpet burns... okay bye. word count: 9.7k series masterlist | main masterlist to raise cain means to cause a commotion, to create a disturbance, to make trouble. a/n: my only defence is that i've been watching too many james bond movies lately. also, for the record, i love berlin. also also, the smut in this made me blush. okay hope you guys like this one x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part one of raising cain.

BERLIN, FEBRUARY

It is bitterly cold, and she hates Berlin.

Not because of the weather, although it never helps to visit a city one loathes while the windows are covered in a thick layer of ice and the ground a slippery sheen of sleet.

No, Cain hates Berlin because it has always been a city of business for her. Never pleasure, nor entertainment.

In the car, en route to the gala, a driver escorts her by the Staatsoper Unter den Linden, the Berliner Dom, the Altes Museum, and each one passes her by in a blur of beige architecture and pretty lights. Endeavours for another trip, another year, another life.

She pays her driver in cash and thanks him for taking the scenic route. In broken English he slips his number into her palm and asks if she will use his services the next time she visits Berlin. She smiles and nods and doesn’t tell him that she hopes to never return.

Her dress is a flimsy thing. One of satin and silk that clings to the skin of her arms, her torso. It curls around her ankles, just shy of brushing the ground as she exits the car. The air outside bites against her skin. Her feet ache and cry out for reprieve, strapped into a skimpy pair of shoes that pinch at her toes as she glides across the cobblestone path.

A clean-shaven man stands at the door, adorned in a modest suit and a winding earpiece. He requests her name, notes her face, and grants her entry with a strict nod and an all too brief once over. Handsomely oblivious to the comforting weight of a weapon at the inside of her thigh.

The venue is small, but the crowd is thick, pulsing with life; dense enough for her to mingle, to go unnoticed as she glides through the ground floor, blending into a mix of countless other women dressed in long slinky dresses. She wears black because they all do; her makeup is simple because she did not come to be remembered.

She accepts a flute of champagne from a man with a tray. Offers him a graceful smile and a softly spoken danke schön, and waits until his back is turned before tipping the golden liquid into a plant at the base of the staircase.

Chancellor Karl Weber skirts past her, one of the most powerful men in the German government, and she does not meet his eye.

She is patient; thoughtful as she surveys the room. She knows better than to move too quickly. She counts the exits and entries, the number of security guards and wait staff. Assesses the balcony that overlooks the room, curving around the entirety of the upper level, and slips up a winding staircase when she is sure no one is watching.

With every upward step, the lengthy slit down the side of her dress parts, revealing the soft skin of her legs.

There’s something intimate about the balcony space. Red velvet drapery covers the walls, hanging from the roof and spooling against the floors in soft crimson swirls. She takes in her surroundings, fingers twinkling across the gorgeous fabric as she walks. A slim door around the bend, at the other side of the upper level, reads NUR FÜR MITARBEITER; staff only.

Another, a few paces behind where she settles, leads to a small bathroom. Six private stalls, one with a thin window above the toilet, just wide enough for her to squeeze through. Beyond it; open air, a thick pipe that leads down to the street. Perfect for scaling.

Assuming a position near the bathroom, she tucks herself amongst the drapes. Lets shadows and velvet caress her skin and hide her from prying eyes as she juts out a knee and slips a slender hand between her thighs.

The pistol is dense. Thick and black, it rests heavily in her palm as she slips a titanium cylinder from her purse. Deft fingers lead the butt of the suppressor to the mouth of the pistol. Pin meets groove and she lets it spin, stroking cool metal as she twists and twists until it clicks into place.

Ulrich Meier stands four metres from the stage, eight from the bar, and two from the closest security guard.

Another man—taller, leaner—talks down to him. Speaking in hushed tones, the two of them glance over their shoulders every few moments. Careful, cunning as they talk.

And as she watches them, her face remains neutral. But somewhere inside of her chest, somewhere forbidden and secret and soft, she feels a threatening rage begin to unfurl.

Because the longer she stares, the easier it gets to picture other faces. Men and women with sallow cheeks and fear in their eyes. Countless bodies strewn apart by weaponry they had no business being close to; rigor mortis setting their horror-stricken faces in stone.

Yes, that anger unspools inside of her. Burns through her veins like ice, chilling her blood until she feels nothing but relief as she bends her elbow and lines up her shot.

Cain does not think about collateral. Cain does not think about those standing close to him, ones who will no doubt remember this night for the rest of their lives. She does not think about his wife or his children. These things do not concern her. All that matters is the mission.   

Her hands are steady around the weapon, finger poised beside the thick trigger. She takes slow breaths. Deep inhales that fill her lungs, followed by warm exhales. Once, twice, three times until she is steeled. An eye pinches shut. Her finger slips over the trigger. Meier laughs at something.

And then a heavy palm lands on her waist.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The man’s voice is a low, rasping thing.

She stiffens, grip freezing around the pistol. His breath hits the back of her neck, and a hundred little hairs there stand on end. She smells cologne, light and airy. Feels fingertips dig into the flesh around her hipbone. Ulrich Meier turns and walks towards a doorway, disappearing from sight.

“Take your hand off of me.”

“Lower your gun.”

Cain’s elbow whips backward, cracking hard against the centre of his chest. His fingers tighten then fall from her waist and she spins on her heel, the butt of her pistol colliding with his jaw.

He stumbles backwards and she advances on him, returning the gun to the holster on her thigh before striking him across the cheek with an open palm. His head hardly even turns before he’s batting her arm down with a stern shove.  

She throws a mean fist forward, but her knuckles barely graze his jaw before the heel of his palm snaps against her chin. The blow sends her staggering to the side, head bouncing off the wall with a low thwack. She tastes blood, the tip of her tongue stings, and when he steps closer she juts her knee into his groin. Feels the harsh rush of the breath leaving his lungs, exhaled roughly across her face, and snarls.

Cain wraps her fingers around the nape of his neck and digs her nails in, pulling him down to meet the knee that she drives into into his stomach. The man grunts against her chest, his hand grasping upward to wrap around her neck. He squeezes tight, dragging her toward him before rocking her skull into the wall again, holding her there. Stars burst in her vision, her nose tingles, and she spits a low curse. Music swells downstairs, a live band starting up on the stage.  

Neat curls and dark eyes dance before her. She blinks to stop the world from spinning. Firm jaw… strong nose. Moustache.  

“Din Djarin,” she rasps, voice strained from the pressure of his palm on her neck. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Recognition sparks in those dark eyes.

“Cain,” he grunts, pupils like pinpricks as he assesses her face, and then his free hand is sneaking past the slit in her dress, tapping the gun at her thigh.

“A Walther?” Din’s fingers squeeze ever so slightly tighter at the sides of her throat, callouses rough on her skin. "A little old fashioned, isn't it?"

“A German gun to kill a German cunt,” she whispers. The artery in her neck pulses and pounds, blood roaring in her ears. “It felt fitting.”

“No one dies tonight,” he grits out, and it takes everything she has not to laugh right in his face. He cannot see the way her arm is twisted between them, fingers working to loosen the tiny dagger resting just inside the sleeve of her dress free.  

“I should have known,” she smirks faintly, fingers grasping the hilt of the blade now. “The Guild do love to play around in international affairs these days.”

“Quiet,” he hisses, fingers sliding up to grip around her jaw now. His palm is hot against her lips, covering that sly smirk, the way she sucks in warm, grateful breaths. “Keep your mouth shut. Meier doesn’t die tonight. Not here.”

Smooth, careful, she presses the tip of her blade against his abdomen. Only 4 inches in length, but long enough—sharp enough—to penetrate through two layers of clothing and pierce the thick skin of his side. Thumb and forefinger tighten, begging for an excuse to press forward, to eliminate this new complication.

But then two things happen in quick succession.

Cain hears a peal of laughter raise from the staircase and glances past Din to spot blonde hair, a red dress, and slides the dagger back inside her sleeve. Moving fast, his hand falls from her face, body curling protectively around hers in a faux embrace. He tucks his face against her neck and the short hairs in his moustache raise goosebumps on her skin.

“Qu’est-ce-que tu fais?” she hisses. What are you doing?

“Shut up,” he bites back, jostling her against the wall once more.

Laughter dies down into awkward chuckles and murmured words. Cain peers over Din’s shoulder, understanding him then. Her fingers tangle in the loose curls at the nape of his neck and she watches them, ignoring how soft it is against her skin. Two women, eyes assessing them from the top of the stairs. The blonde frowns, wary; concerned.

“They’re looking,” Cain warns, hooking an ankle around the back of his.

Something soft skates down the side of her neck. Such a stark contrast to the rough grip of his hand before; a pair of lips tracing gentle kisses along her pulse point. For a moment, she holds her breath, focusing on the dull ache in the back of her skull, the feeling of his arms around her. 

“Make them look away,” he says plainly, the words a hot wash against her skin.

His palm tightens around her hip, and Cain tilts her chin upward, letting the women see her smile as he lays kisses against her throat, lips parting to form a loosely whispered oh. Through heavy lidded eyes she sees the women flush and look away, one of them giggling. But they do not leave.

Meier, where is Meier? The thought jolts through her like an electric shock, and her smile fades a little.

Frustrated, she skates a hand around his body; lets it fall to the hem of his suit jacket, rucking it up until her fingers are digging into the flesh of his ass. Round and thick with muscle, he tenses beneath her grip, letting slip a harsh grunt of surprise into her ear. The women balk at that, turning to begin their descent down the stairs at last.

Biting back a smirk, Cain’s fingers trail up up up inside his jacket, around the front of his body. Down the buttons on the front of his white dress shirt, the solid muscle beneath it, to where it meets his trousers. The tips of her nails flirt across the front of his pants, and she is certain he’s stopped breathing; entire body still beneath her touch, lips frozen against her skin. Searching, searching, she finally hums triumphantly, fingers sliding over the holster on his hip at last. Hidden beneath his jacket, she fondles the butt of his gun. Slim; inconspicuous.

“Hmm,” she purrs, lips brushing the soft skin of his earlobe. “I thought it would be bigger.”

“I thought I told you to shut u—”

Din flinches as her other hand touches the side of his face, a finger pressing swiftly into his ear canal. His head tilts to the side, trying to evade her touch, but she’s already pulling away, using his surprise to slip around his body and move towards the stairs.

She smooths fingers over her hair, neatening the mussed strands and tucking them behind her ears. Straightens the neckline of her dress, ensures her holster is hidden. From where she stands, Meier is nowhere to be seen.

Din calls after her, a low warning. She doesn’t look back, gripping the railing of the staircase as she begins her descent. The gala is in full swing, guests dancing and talking in every direction. A six-piece band performs a playful jazz song from the stage.

“There is no need to shout,” Cain murmurs, smiling when she hears a sharp intake of breath through the earpiece.

She doesn’t know if he follows her down. Keeps her gaze trained forward as she accepts another glass of champagne from another man with another tray. Drinks it this time, thick hurried gulps that wet the skin beside her lips and soften the rough scratch in her throat. She wanders, looking for the man she came here for, and in time she ends up at the bar.

“A vodka martini,” she tells the barman, slipping onto one of the plush highchairs at the counter. “Dirty.”

The blonde man grips a clear glass bottle from his station and asks, “Shaken or stirred?”

She waves a hand, unbothered. “Dealer’s choice.”

He’s short with thick hair and a reddish hue to his beard. Handsome enough. She watches him with a light curiosity as he finishes making someone else’s drink.

It doesn’t take long before Din Djarin slips onto the seat beside her, suit jacket straightened out, not a single curl out of place, and orders a cosmopolitan.

The barman pulls two frosted coup glasses from beneath the bar and Cain arches an eyebrow at her companion.

“You’ve a sweet tooth, Monsieur Djarin?”

“It seems that way,” he murmurs, turning on his stool to face her.

Brown eyes assess her face in this new lighting, pupils flicking across everything he can see. His hand reaches across the bar and peels a small square napkin from a pile. Slides it across the wooden countertop.

“Wipe your nose.”

She swipes the material beneath her nostrils and spies a small blot of blood on the fabric, crumpling it in her fist with a saccharine smile.   

“In Germany long?” he asks casually, nodding at the bartender when he places their cocktails on the counter.

“As long as it takes.” She wraps her fingers around the stem of a chilled glass, dragging it closer. “And it shouldn’t take long.”

He takes a lengthy sip, draining half the glass in seconds, and his eyes slip closed as the alcohol hits his tongue. Cain watches his throat move as he swallows and crosses her legs tighter on the stool. Feels her gun holster dig into the soft flesh there and welcomes the distraction.

“Alone?”

He eyes her for a second, gaze momentarily dropping to the low cut of her neckline, the swooping curve of her shoulder. “I was.”

“Well,” she holds out her glass to him. “It’s an honour.”

A beat passes as he contemplates her—her words, her steadfast gaze—and then he knocks the rim of his glass gently against hers.

“I’d apologise for upstairs,” he smiles faintly, posture loosening. “But I’m sure you understand.”

“There is no need,” she agrees easily, taking her first sip. Cool vodka slips down her throat and she allows a pleased purr to fall from her lips. “Tempers are frayed. Patience is short. What’s a little scuffle between friends, hmm?”

He smirks at that, a miniscule upward twitch of his lip. Friends.

“You know, I’ve heard the stories about you,” he tells her.

His suit jacket is well tailored, she notices. Tight around those broad shoulders of his, hemmed perfectly around his wrists to reveal crisp white sleeves and silver cufflinks. 

“Is that so?”

He nods. “Cain, the femme fatale.”

“Mm,” she smirks, tracing a finger around the rim of her glass. He watches the sharp point of her red nail ping against the coup. Glances down to her toenails peeking past the tip of her heels; the same colour. She wiggles them for him, and he looks up.

“Then it appears there are equally silly tales about the both of us, non?”

“Do tell.”

Her grin broadens, something like excitement splicing through her veins. “Well, I had wondered if it were true. That you have your own little… catchphrase.”  

A low scoff rumbles from his chest, and his stare cuts to where the bartender stands, mixing a drink only a few feet away. Across the room, one of the musicians onstage starts up a winding piano solo. Sparse and melodic to start, he sprinkles his fingers against highest keys on the piano, and Cain focuses on keeping her gaze on Din. She never did care for jazz.

“Do you say it every time?” she teases in a whisper, eyes lit up with mocking glee. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in co—”

“Stop.”

Din’s voice is harsh, a little too loud for the quiet space by the bar. The word cuts through the soft music and has a few guests glancing in their direction. Cain laughs, unperturbed by the sudden attention, and plucks an olive out of her drink. A saxophonist joins in with the pianist, and he relaxes once more. Leans into this little game of hers.

“Don’t be a fool,” he softens, reaching over to tuck a short strand of hair behind her ear. His thumb brushes the curve of her jaw as he pulls away and she fights the shiver that trips its way down her spine. “Not every time.”

She laughs again, quietly eyeing the length of his fingers as his picks up his glass. His knuckles are thick. Warm blue veins spiderweb across the back of his hand, disappearing beneath his shirt. If she tries hard enough, she can still remember how it felt to have that hand pressed against her throat, squeezing.

“And what else do they tell you about me?” she licks her lips, elbow on the bar, leaning forward to rest her chin in the palm of her hand. Eager – hungry.

“I know you’re an orphan.” He is stoic as he says it; as if unphased, uninterested. But Cain’s eyebrows lift, delighted.

“Then it must be true of you too,” she posits slyly, left eyelid dropping in a wink. “No one is more eager to accuse another of being an orphan… unless they themselves are one also.”

He ignores that, though she can see the way his weight shifts in the seat and the muscle in his jaw twitches.

“A Valkyrie.”

“Common knowledge in our line of work.”

“You’re from Paris.”

“An easy guess,” she leans back, bored. 

“Your first name is Nikita,” Din says then, a teasing lilt to his voice. She considers that he may enjoy this game just as much as she does.

And that makes her pause. She lifts her glass and laughs against the rim, a soft tinkling sound that rings in his ears and has every man in earshot turning to look at her.

“You watch too many films,” she swallows with a smirk. “Think French, Monsieur Djarin.”

He ponders it for a moment, lips pursed softly, gaze darting somewhere over her shoulder and then back to her face. Takes a sip of his laughably pink cocktail and licks the residue from his lips, savouring every drop.

“Camille.”

“Oh,” she rolls her eyes, fighting back a genuine smile now. “I know you can do better than that.”

It’s his turn to wink now, and for one fleeting moment she feels oddly at peace with the idea of spending the rest of her evening at the bar with Din Djarin. A stranger, yes, but a little less so than the others that crowd the room.

In a career so harsh, characterised by its solitude, its violence, Cain is unaccustomed to the feeling of being seen like this. She knows unfamiliarity and discomfort and pain like the back of her hand. Is no stranger to a man’s grip around her throat, her life in his hands. But not this… this twinkle of implicit understanding that she can see in his eyes. Those endless brown eyes that say we are not so different, you and I.

Despite the bloodied napkin in her lap and the ache in her jaw, it’s enough to loosen her shoulders; to set her at ease.

But then he turns to stare pointedly over her shoulder, and she snaps out of it. Twisting around on the stool, Cain follows his gaze until she spots Meier across the room. He stands with a few others, shoulders back, eyes bright. Perfectly oblivious.

The barman slips to the other end of the counter, serving a tall gentleman, and Cain lowers her voice.

“What does the Guild want with Ulrich Meier?”

Din takes a sip of his drink. Keeps his eyes to the right, glossing casually over guests, the band, and then back to the asset.

“Information,” he says finally—carefully. “He’s of no use to us dead.”

She hums quietly, plucking an olive from her drink. Eats it slowly, allowing the briny taste to wash over her tongue as she watches him. When he doesn’t speak again, she squints, unimpressed.

“Are you not going to ask me the same question?”

An amused sound escapes his mouth, and he meets her eye again.

“You want Meier dead,” he muses simply. “But why so abruptly? When there is so much to be gained from taking him in.”

“That is not an option for us.”

“Why?” His voice takes on a harsher quality now, eyes narrowing. Mistrust.

“Did you know that name Ulrich,” Cain murmurs, leaning forward to avoid any listening ears. “Comes from the Old High German name Uodalrich? Uodal meaning heritage. Rich meaning king; ruler.”

Din Djarin says nothing.

“Did you do your research before coming to Berlin?”

“Yes.”

“Then you understand that Monsieur Meier is not simply an arms dealer.”

A beat of silence. His fingers tighten around the stem of his glass. “Yes.”

“He took his name personally, you see.” Her eyes float back to Meier. “Held it in his slimy little hands as a baby and said Oui Maman, I will rule. I will rule the desires of weaker men, and bring nightmares unto any woman that I can get these two hands on.”

“This is about revenge.”

“This is about justice,” Cain snaps, that calm façade slipping for a second. No more games. Din’s spine straightens. “Have you ever spoken to a human trafficking victim?”

He takes another sip of his drink and does not respond. She does her best not to remember the photos from her briefing. Not to remember the countless interviews, witness statements, and obituaries she’d had to paw through before her flight.

“Your silence is very telling,” she smiles, that easy composure returning. “But I trust that you understand my position now. Ulrich Meier will be of no help to your organisation after this evening.”

“Cain—”

“Because,” she continues easily. “When I leave this building, he will no longer be able to speak. And if you wish to get in my way… then I am afraid the same fate will befall you, Monsieur Djarin.”

A soft announcement sounds through the speakers, and they turn their heads to listen. The Chancellor will be giving his speech in a few moments. That’s her cue.

“And Weber?” he asks, the words coming out stilted, rushed. “What do you think of him? He’s known for turning a blind eye to Meier’s dealings.”

She tilts her glass, swallowing the last of the icy liquid.

“I do my best,” she places it down on the counter with a soft clink. “Not to think of men at all. Unless it is imperative to my mission.”

“And yet you’ve thought of me,” Din asserts, gaze heavy. His eyes slip down, just long enough for her to notice the way he stares at her mouth, before his eyes return to hers. “You know me. Enough to recognise my face in a second.”

“As I said,” Cain smiles, stepping down from her chair. “Imperative to my mission.”

He is still as she leans in and presses a soft kiss to his left cheek, and then to his right.

“Take care, Monsieur Djarin. I would like to see you live another day,” she says, slender hand coming up to the side of his face. Her finger taps the piece in his ear once, and she is not smiling anymore. “I’ll be in here if you need me.”

Cain coasts around the edge of the room, keeping her eyes to ground whenever an unfamiliar sets of eyes strays in her direction. Swipes a finger beneath her nose once or twice, checking to see if any blood has returned. And as Chancellor Weber makes his way towards the stage, she makes her way back upstairs, quietly hoping that Din does not follow her again.  

Halfway up, a single word crackles through her ear piece.

“Amélie?”

Surprised, she grips the banister and almost turns around. But she can hear a woman speaking into a microphone in German, performing a plain and winding introduction for the Chancellor, and continues her ascent.

“Wrong.”

Reassuming her position on the balcony, shrouded in waves of those soft red velvet drapes, she watches Weber take his place on the stage. A hush falls over the crowd and her eyes move fast, landing easily on the thinning grey hair atop her target’s head. Every eye in the room is facing the stage. The Walther is thick and heavy in her palm as she ensures the silencer is correctly in place. Old fashioned indeed.

Cain’s breathing is calm, heart rate slow and measured as she raises the weapon and aims it at his head. And then, like a little ant crawling across her skin, she feels something shift. The air gets thicker, and a suddenly familiar shiver tickles its way down her spine.

Her eyes tick up and she pauses at the sight of Din on the opposite balcony railing. Almost hidden entirely by the shadows, pistol raised. And it is not pointed at Ulrich Meier, no… no it is pointed at her. And he is so handsome, even when he’s bluffing.

Grinning now, she lets the tip of her finger lightly caress the trigger. So gently, with no intention of doing any damage just yet. Some feeling akin to glee sparks up in her chest. Such excitement. The Chancellor’s voice fills the room, swelling from the speakers as he welcomes his guests.  

Din’s face is placid, unimpressed, and then that honeyed voice drifts through her ear once more.

“Celine?”

Cain allows herself a brief laugh, eyes drifting back down to rest on the man she came here for. The target drapes an arm around his wife’s waist. She inhales deep, filling her lungs before letting the air spill from her nose. Calm, collected. All of it so easy for her.

“Wrong again.”

The Walther jerks in her hand, bullet flying silently through the air, and for a moment there is silence. Nobody moves.

And then Ulrich Meier’s wife releases a blood curdling scream, dropping to her knees and cradling what’s left of her husband’s head in her lap. Popping the silencer off her gun, Cain catches a glimpse of thick, dark matter across the woman’s chest, spilling down the bare skin of her arms, and then she is slipping away into the bathroom in search of that thin little window.

Back on the cobblestone street, sirens wail through the air, police cars and ambulances roaring past as she traipses away from the scene. A little flushed, a little exhilarated, she blends into a crowd of pedestrians, hidden in the shadows. She cuts across the road, avoiding traffic, and heads toward Unter den Linden, knowing it is safer to walk. Don’t be seen by a taxi driver, don’t be recognised, don’t—

“That was a clean shot.”

The words ring in her ear, clear as day.

Cain’s feet drag to a halt against the ground, shoulders stiffening. She turns, eyes assessing the busy pathway behind her, a parked car idling by the side of the road a few metres back. But she can’t see him anywhere. Countless unfamiliar faces wander by, jostling her shoulders as they pass, but he isn’t amongst them. He’s hiding somewhere, watching her from afar – playing his own little game now. Shivering against the cold, she turns and continues walking.

And then: “I thought I might follow you home.”

The words are so confident, so self-assured, and they send a rush of jagged heat blossoming between her thighs. Her heels clip against the ground, knees feeling a little weaker all of a sudden.  

“Would you like that?” he asks, and she wishes she could see his face. Wants to see the desire burning in his eyes, the sharp line of his jaw as those words drift from his pink lips.

“Only if you can keep up.” A little breathless, the words form a soft cloud in the air in front of her face.

Din laughs, low and dark in her ear, but he doesn’t speak again.

She walks for a long time, ambling her way down dark streets, icy wind whipping at her hair for all of half an hour before she finally reaches the street of her hotel. And all the while, she spares quick little glances over her shoulders, trying to spot him in the shadows. Her clothes begin to feel too tight, too warm, despite the low temperature, and with every step her panties cling closer to her warm, wet skin.

The hotel doorman smiles tiredly at Cain as she approaches, holding the door open wide to welcome her inside. As her feet hit the entryway steps, his eyes flit over her shoulder.

“Ein freund von dir?” A friend of yours?

When she turns, she is quietly amazed to find Din there. Gait unhurried, only a few steps behind her. There’s an easy smile spread across his face. Hands tucked deep in his pockets; the top button of his shirt undone.

“Ja,” Cain murmurs, slipping inside.

Din nods to the doorman, following her in. “Guten Abend.” Good evening.

They do not speak as she leads him toward the elevator. Her numb fingers slide against the button with an upward pointing arrow, and together they wait. Heat radiates from his body, warming the skin of her back where he stands behind her, so close yet not touching her yet. Together they slip inside when the doors open.

She presses a button, the number twelve lighting up on the switchboard, and the doors glide closed.

Soft, tinny music plays in the elevator, and they stare at each other from either side of the small space. Din’s chest rises and falls with steady, measured breaths. He watches her and she watches the buttons on the wall, lighting up in turn as the two of them travel up, up, up.

Two floors below Cain’s, he speaks for the first time.

“Vivienne,” he says. “Final guess.”

Her eyes flash to him and she smiles, the skin beside her eyes pinching.

“It’s Remy,” she reveals at last, voice so soft, so forgiving now that her mission is complete.

“Remy,” he repeats. Rolls the r like she does, hums around the y. Sees how it tastes in his mouth and steps forward, saying it again, again. Remy, Remy, Remy, Remy Cain.

“Don’t wear it ou—”

His lips crush against hers, chest warm as he pushes her back back back into the wall. His hand flies up, cradling the back of her skull to protect it from the wall. Not a third time. Despite the softness of his hand, the way his fingers card gently through the short locks of her hair, his kiss is biting. A wet mess of clashing teeth and tongues as he works her jaw open, coaxing his way inside of her mouth. A rough exhale streams from his nostrils, warming the skin of her face. His breath tastes like Cointreau and lime, and she moans. 

His hand slips up her thigh, trailing past that slit in her dress for the second time this evening, until his fingers are brushing against the front of her panties. Feeling the thick damp strip in the lace, the way the thin material clings to her centre.

“Fuck,” he exhales, and when he meets her eyes again his pupils are blown fat and black with desire. Moving fast, he tugs the gun from her holster. She pauses, eyes narrowing, but then he tucks it into the waistband at the back of his trousers, simply allowing space for his forearm to rest between her thighs.

The elevator thrums around them, stomachs dropping as the metal box takes them higher and higher through the building. A finger curls around the edge of her panties, dragging them to the side, and when he finally slides through her wet cunt she sighs into his mouth, every muscle in her body pulling taut and warm. 

His touch is lax, almost taunting as he sucks her tongue into his mouth and traces a digit over the drooling mouth of her entrance, smearing it up to make a mess of her clit. When she moans he presses down; careful little circles there, messy figure eights, a sharp back and forth back and forth back and forth, trying to see what she likes best. And the second her eyes pinch shut, a low curse falling from her lips, the elevator dings.

His hand whips out, slamming against the red emergency stop button. The elevator jerks to an abrupt halt and then he’s on her again. Teeth at her collarbone, her neck, her jaw, fingers moving in a slick blur against her pussy. Her thighs splay apart, and she leans heavy against the wall, knees shaky, trusting him to keep her from falling to the ground. 

“So fucking wet for me,” he murmurs, the words brimming with pride, and she trembles beneath his touch, needing more and needing it now.

“Inside,” she pants, lips parted and searching for his again. “Want your fingers inside me.”

Din swallows those words down, pressing two fingers inside of her with a groan. Remy gasps, bearing down on the weight of his fingers and shivering as he curls them inside of her. Stretching her out and grinding his knuckles against her entrance with every deep thrust.

“Yeah?” he goads, watchful eyes drinking in the way she moans for him, turning her face into her shoulder as if to hide how good it feels. “You like that, hm?”

Warm wetness pools out of her, dripping past his knuckles and onto the inside of her thighs. Obscene sounds fill the tiny space as he pumps in and out of her, and she catches herself glancing upward, searching for a security camera. She spots it in the corner just as he fits a third finger inside and grinds the heel of his palm against her clit, her mouth falling open with a rough groan. Her shoulders tilt forward, forehead knocking against his shoulder, and Din grunts, fucking her harder. His fingers never leave her wet clutch now, the tips of them persistently working against that soft spot at the top of her walls.

“Such a tight little cunt,” he’s saying, nipping at her earlobe, but the words blur and warble around the rushing in her ears. “Squeezing my fingers so good, you’re so good.”  

She grips the back of his neck, squeezing desperately. Her jaw aches with the strain of hanging slack.

“Tell me,” he says roughly, growing impatient. Everything feels hot, too hot; the skin of her face against his shoulder, her chest, the sizzling tension coiling in her core.

“Close,” she chokes out. Din snakes his free arm around the back of her waist, steadying her loose-limbed frame between his body and the wall. “Just a little longe—ohhh, merde.”

He shifts then, the thick heft of his cock crushing against her thigh through their clothes. He presses a finger against her clit now. And that low rub, his calloused thumb paired with three thick fingers massaging into her, is enough to send her spilling over the edge.

A hoarse cry pries its way out of her throat, body shaking against his and he works her through it, still pressing down against the aching bundle of nerves at the top of her sex. She pulses around his fingers, everything pulling tight and wet around them as she comes. Teeth sink into the lapel of his jacket in an attempt to muffle her cries but his arm is dropping from her waist, hand coming up to grip her jaw and push her back.

“Let me hear it,” he purrs, voice like silk as it washes over the skin of her neck.  

“Ohh,” she moans, uncaring now about the camera, about who will hear. Focusing wholly on his fingers on her face, her cunt, the way her entire world seems to shake within his grasp.

He holds her there, lets her shake and shiver beneath his touch until the ebbs of pleasure finally fade and she’s strong enough to stand on her own. Remy watches as he takes a small step backward, pressing one hand over the front of his trousers and three slick fingers past his lips to taste her come. Din’s eyes slip shut at the taste, lips pursing as he sucks the remnants of her from his skin. Flushed and awed by the intimacy of it, the depravity of it, she looks away.

Her fingers tremble against the button as she presses it, and the elevator shudders back to life around them. Another sharp ding rings out again, the doors sliding open within seconds.

A few paces down the hall, the key card slips easily against her door, and she presses it open, flushed as she steps inside and kicks off her heels. She discards them somewhere to the side, turning to watch him follow her in, toes sinking gratefully into the rough carpet beneath her feet.

The door slams shut behind him and he tears his jacket off, letting it drop to the floor as he makes his way further inside. And he looks so much more intimidating like this, she thinks. Domineering as he advances on her, the thick length of his cock evident against the front of his pants. Despite him aiming a gun at her less than an hour ago, despite the way he slunk through the shadows to follow her back here, this is the first time all evening that she’s felt eager to bend to his will, his desire. Her heart races, thudding heavily against her ribcage, and he grins wickedly at her, as if he can fucking hear it.

They collide in the middle of the room, slick swollen lips sliding against each other in a mess of harsh exhales and lewd smacking sounds. Her hands roam across the vast expanse of his chest, trailing down to cup him through his pants. He groans at the feeling, hips jerking forward, seeking more more more. He rips the gun from his holster and tosses it onto the bed, her Walther following shortly from the back of his waistband, and then his hands are on her too. Fat palms pawing at her body, gripping the meat of her ass and squeezing, trapping her against his chest so he can rut his cock against her stomach. Din grips the back of her head then, thumbs rough against the apples of her cheeks as his mouth devours hers.

Thick fingers drift from the ends of her hair down the nape of her neck, the curve of her spine, until they slip beneath the back of her dress. Distracting her with his kiss, greedy and lustful and dominating – she doesn’t notice his curious fingers until they’re curling around the fabric and ripping. Remy staggers backwards with the force of it, gripping his neck. He snarls into her mouth, following her to the ground as she falls. The breath rushes from her lungs and her tailbone aches from how she lands but she doesn’t care. Doesn’t even care when Din straddles her waist, chest heaving, and continues to tear satin and silk from her body. The black material practically shreds in his hands. So thin and delicate, the threads fall apart with every twist, every yank, until he’s prying the ruined dress away and throwing it towards the bed.  

Remy’s fingers work hastily to undo the buttons on his shirt, but just as she reaches the fourth one, he’s gripping her hands, pinning them above her head. Din’s free hand works open his belt, the button and zip on his trousers, and then he’s dragging them down his legs, freeing the thick weight of his cock. She gasps, eyeing the angry red tip hungrily. He’s thick and long and leaking against the white material of his shirt. Her hands push against his and she grunts when he simply tightens his grasp on her, the friction of the coarse carpet harsh against her skin.

“I let you have your way back there,” Din says, eyes blazing. “Are you gonna let me have mine now?”

Her body stills, wholly captivated beneath the heat of his gaze, the weight of his thighs over her hips.

“Yes,” she exhales, mind a blur, limbs still loose and heavy from her orgasm. “Yes, Din, just fuck me.”

“The Guild are gonna have my fucking head for this,” he mutters, fingers falling from her hands to rest heavily at the waistband of her panties.

Remy isn’t sure if he’s talking about Meier or her, but she doesn’t fucking care. What happens to Din after tonight is not her problem.

He toys with her for a moment, tickling the skin around her navel, above the band of her panties, before his fingers hook around it and—snap. She flinches as the material is torn away, her skin pinching beneath the lace.

She stares up at him, clad in nothing but the pale material of her bra now. He watches the way her chest heaves beneath it, nipples painfully stiff against the thin lace.

“It was the right thing to do.”

“I know,” he snaps angrily. He shifts back, moving down her body until he can pry her legs from between his, spreading them open on the carpet to display her glistening cunt to him. The sight seems to stem his anger a little, jaw going loose as he gazes down at the shiny swollen mess of her.

A thick thumb swipes through her folds, pinching one of them back to hold her open for him to ogle at.

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he tuts under his breath, thumbing at the flesh between her clit and her hole.

Her face heats, heart stuttering in her chest a little at this feeling of exposure. Can feel the intensity of his stare practically inside of her the longer he looks, waiting for something.

“So take it,” she says finally, patience thinning.

She fists his shirt in her hands and tugs him forward, breath hitching when he grips his cock and jerks it slowly, smearing her wetness down the length of it before notching his tip at her entrance.

He pushes inside of her in one fell swoop, hardly giving her a moment to adjust to the fat girth of his tip before he’s pressing deeper. Lips on lips, sucking the breath from her lungs, their kiss vibrates with the strength of his groan. It tastes like relief, like understanding. And for a moment it’s just that. The thick weight of him seated inside of her, his chest against hers as they kiss lazily, sloppily, smearing spit across each other faces, tasting beneath tongues, behind teeth.

“So fucking tight,” Din bites out, forehead heavy against hers.

“Mm,” she whines, face screwed up.

A dull burn ricochets through her abdomen, the stretch more than she’s taken in a while. Remy wills herself to relax, but desire has her core tightening around him, sucking him in further and further until the coarse hairs at his base are flush against her clit and there’s nothing more to take. She loops a leg around his waist and ruts up against him, and anything soft about him vanishes.

Din’s thrusts are punishing. Hard and fast, the weight of his hips rocking her into the ground over and over, until she can feel carpet burns forming at the base of her spine, the soft skin of her ass. Every slick pass of the heft of his cock punches the air from her lungs and has her eyelids fluttering.

It’s greedy, the way he fucks her. Like he’s had it before, perhaps in a past life, and been deprived of her touch for years. He fucks her like he misses her. Like he loves her or hates her or something dark and grotesque in between the two emotions. Like if this were the last thing he ever got to do in this lifetime, then he was going to do it right.

So she says, “Harder,” and he grits his teeth, fucking her into the carpet until she’s sure there’ll be littles scrapes and bruises on her back in the morning.

The tip of his cock brushes near to the end of her, and every little nudge there has her gasping in an intoxicating medley of pain and pleasure.

“There?”

“Yes,” she begs. “Fucking—yes.”

Din works her open like it’s his fucking job. Settles on his knees and drags her ass up onto his thighs, splitting her open with every brutal thrust, hands fitted over her waist in a vice.

Up close like this she can see past the collar of his shirt. Can see thick raised lines on his skin, pink and purple scars beneath his collarbones. She reaches up and lays a hand there, feels his heart jack hammering against the marred skin, and moans his name. Din, Din, Din.

And he likes that. Releases an almost pained moan at the sound of his name on her lips, leaning down to attach his mouth to her neck. He bites and sucks and kisses, leaving a trail of deep dark marks from the hollow of her throat to the hinge of her jaw.

“That’s it,” he snarls into her skin, hand lowering to press down above her mound, and that mixed with the sound of his voice makes a fresh load of slick gush out of her. Pushes her deeper into this depraved, endless pit of pleasure he’s raining down upon her.

He tells her again, say it again, and she cries out Din, head lolling back against the floor.

Something fierce begins to brew inside of her. A bright white twisting feeling that frays and sparks like a live wire, stoked by the speed of his movement, the firm press of his hand against her lower stomach. And just as she thinks she’s there, almost there, so close, a shrill ringing comes from the sofa to their left.

Din’s hips stutter against hers, head snapping to the side to pinpoint where the interruption emanates from. A little pink phone rings and rings, the sound piercing through her ears and setting her teeth on edge. She taps his chest quickly, urging him back. He frowns, opens his mouth to tell her no, tell her ignore it, but she pushes him harder, again and again until he slips out of her with a haggard moan.

He grips her waist and turns their bodies, landing on his back with a thud. Eyes trained on his face, the dark red blush on his cheeks, his swollen mouth, she reaches out blindly, snatching the phone from the receiver and putting it to her ear.

“Allo?” Remy breathes, eyebrows pinching together as she sinks down onto his cock, free hand splayed on his stomach. “Bonjour.” 

He props himself up in a seated position, resting back on one hand while the other comes up to grope at her chest. Cocky asshole. But her eyes glaze over as she takes in the tanned skin that peeks out of his shirt again, the soft smattering of hair between his pecks. Legs spread out wide on the carpet, he watches her bounce slowly on his cock, nodding in encouragement but careful not to speak, lest he be heard down the line by her handler.

At this angle his tip presses into her g-spot with every movement. It only takes a moment for that low burn to start up again in the base of her stomach. Her mouth is open wide, ragged breaths spilling from her lips as she listens to the words being spoken down the line.  

She says, “Ouais, c’est fait.” Yeah, it’s done.

Din’s fingers flex around the cup of her bra, tugging down the fabric to let one of her tits spill out. He sighs heavily, leaning forward to latch his mouth onto the skin there. Lathing hot, messy kisses against her sternum, her nipple, and then grazing his teeth over the sensitive bud. She trembles against him, hand coming up to grip the back of his head and hold his face there. He sucks it into his mouth, pulls it taut between his lips before letting it slip out with a wet pop.

“À bientôt.” See you soon.

She hangs up the phone with a rough clang, and then her mouth is seeking his out again. Teeth clash and she moans at the sharp pain, uncaring. Din’s grip on her waist tightens and he plants his feet on the carpet, fucking up into her at a break-neck pace. She cries into his mouth, a harsh animalistic sound, and her stomach is pulling tight, cramping up. Her cunt locks down around him, and when she comes it’s a low throb of a feeling. A deep swooping ache that spills from her core and spreads out through her thighs, her stomach, until her body is jerking and twitching above him.

“Fuck yes,” he grits out, white teeth flashing in her hazy vision. He doesn’t give out, spitting a mess of that’s it, fucking give it to me as her pussy flutters and drools around his cock. Her hips roll and stutter over his, the muscles in her stomach twitching beneath the skin, and Din swears under his breath. Her vision whites out, throat hoarse and head pounding as she succumbs to the pleasure. And he feeds off it.

“God, look at you,” he grunts, prolonging that low burn in her gut the longer he fucks into that softest warmest little spot. “Made to take this cock.”

“Say it,” he rasps urgently, eyes rolling back when her hand grips his throat for purchase, nails digging sharply into the skin over his thrumming carotid. “Say you fucking want it.”

“I want it,” she moans, back arching, knees on fire where they slide against the carpet at his sides. “Want your come, Din, fuck—fuck, give it to me, give it to me.”

His body practically vibrates as he comes. A thousand tiny little twitches and spasms rocking through this frame, the muscles in his thick thighs turning to tense stone beneath her. A gravelly shout falls from his lips, cock kicking hot and hard against her walls until she feels his spend begin to seep out of her around his length and pool around his base.  

It’s almost frantic, the way his hands clutch at her body, clinging to any part of her that he can. And when she thinks he might pull her closer, press himself deeper to keep painting the inside of her walls, he pushes her away, dragging himself from her clutch just to grip his length in a tight fist.

He strokes himself in tight wet movements, a few final weak spurts of his come shooting up to land over her mound and the swollen lips of her pussy. And only when he’s done, spent cock beginning to soften in his palm, does he pull her down a little. Resting wet hands over the base of her spine to feel the way she shivers, body shuddering its way through the aftershocks of her orgasm.

Remy’s chest expands with stilted, ragged gasps for air, trying desperately to fill her lungs as she folds against his hot thick frame, exhausted.

And after a few moments the foggy, erotic blur that held her mind in a vice for the past few hours slowly begins to lift. Din’s hand is on the back of her thigh, fingers splayed, tickling the skin there, and the weight of it suddenly itches. Reality drifts back in and it feels heavy on her shoulders. The clock beside the hotel bed reads 9:12 – her flight out of Berlin leaves in two hours.

His hand drifts up her back, nudging her down to rest her head against his chest. Her body aches suddenly; dull pains popping up in her neck, her jaw, her hips. She remembers the way it felt to have his palm strike her chin and almost smiles.

A metre away, her suitcase lies spread open on the floor. Clothes and lingerie and a gun peek out of the red trunk. She can see two passports beside it, stacked neatly atop one another. And she knows that his hotel room can’t look that dissimilar from his own, but it feels too much now. As their breathing starts to even out, vision swinging back into focus, this level of intimacy – having another person, even a colleague of sorts – seeing behind the scenes of what after looks like for her… it feels like a splinter in the tip of her finger. A sharp sting that won’t go away. Wrong.

Remy rests her chin against his collarbone and glances up at him. Din’s eyes are closed, lips parted as soft breaths puff out from between them. He looks tired – almost as tired as she feels.

“I’m going to shower,” she tells him, fingers brushing curls back off his forehead. His eyes are soft, warm as they open to watches her stand. Too much, that look in his eyes. Too close. “Be gone when I come out, okay?”

Remy turns, back to him as she grips the handle of the ensuite door, and for a moment she pauses. Feels the weight of the silence between them, the heady scent of sweat and come in the air, on her skin, and glances over her shoulder. Looks between him spread out on the floor and her things dotted across the room. An empty martini glass lying on its side. The blush-coloured rotary phone on the hotel sofa. Passports with different names, birth dates, home countries, addresses, and her face. She knows that has to be firm now.  

“Don’t give me a reason to kill you, mon chére.” My darling.

Din’s lips curl up into a smile and his eyes drift up to stare at the ceiling. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She slips inside the bathroom and pulls the door almost closed behind her. Twists a nozzle until water is beating down against the floor of the shower and steam begins to fill the room. Silently, she pries open a cabinet and slips her hand beneath the sink, feeling around until her fingers grasp the pistol strapped there.

Bare skin of her back flush to the wall, thighs still wet with come and sweat, she peers out through the crack in the door. Still ajar, she can see him past the wooden frame. Sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her, looping his belt through the waist of his trousers. With her eyes trained on the soft skin of his neck, on messy curls, on shoulder blades and biceps that bulge out against the thin material of his dress shirt – she leads a silencer into place over the mouth of her gun. A rhythmic repetition, the exact same as earlier. She doesn’t even need to look down. Pin meet groove, twist, twist, twist.

Din slips his arms inside the suit jacket, elbows bending as he smooths his palms along the front of it. She holds her breath as he turns, as he takes three steps toward the hotel room door, and then—pauses. Hand on the doorhandle, he does not move.

Remy’s finger rests featherlight on the trigger.

She is calm. What happens next is his choice.  

And he must know this because he does not turn around. Does not try to catch one last look at her. His fingers curl around the handle and he slips out the door, closing it was a soft click behind him. The air in the room rushes to fill his sudden absence.

Only when there is silence does she exhale, dropping the pistol onto the marble countertop beside the sink. And she smiles as she slinks beneath the hot spray of the shower head, letting it rush over the crown of her skull and drench her hair.

Her scalp stings and pink water swirls in the drain, blood slipping from a little cut on the back of her head. She pays it little mind, tilting her chin up so the scalding water hits her face too, stripping away a thick layer of sweat and blood and secrets from her skin. The silence stretches, and her smile grows. He does not come back.

Smart choice, Din Djarin.

thank you so much for reading! x

[kogyalies]

GUIDE TO MORI KEI!! 森系

mori kei is one of the many early 2000s subcultures that originated from the harajuku district inspired by living in the woods.

wearers of this type of clothing are usually referred to as mori girl (森ガール) or mori boy (森ボーイ). basically, forest girl/boy.

this subculture is based on nature and gives off a more elven/fae feel, its main color pallet consisting of earth tones, greens, whites, and other soft colors. plaid is a pattern that occasionally appears in mori kei fits, and sometimes baby blues and pinks will appear for a contrast to an outfit.

if you want to look for some clothing that would fit with this aesthetic, look for something loose and natural, and pieces that layer well together. such as a large cardigan/sweater vest that goes well with a frilly dress/skirt and leg warmers and tights. pants may also be used for a more masculine look.

"ゆるふわ" is what the loose layers achieve, hiding the curves of the body and therefore the wearer has a "fluffy" appearance. when layering, make sure to begin with the lightest/thinest layer first, and then move on to heavier materials.

lace, light materials, and embroidered clothes are musts, while accessories such as shawls, tights, and scarfs add to the layered effect.

linen, wool, and cotton are fabrics that are often used. fabrics that drape nicely will be your bff when creating a mori kei outfit.

mori kei is actually quite similar to cottagecore, but while cottagecore is focused on a rural life, mori kei is more based on forests and nature itself.

It also expresses a love of the forest, quiet hobbies, reading, drinking tea, herbalism, and a natural lifestyle.

hair and makeup often match with the almost whimsical and natural look of the outfits. makeup is kept relatively basic, with use of colors such as beige, pinks, and golds. minimalistic igari makeup is a nice example.

DARK MORI KEI/MORI GOTH

a subcategory of mori kei is mori goth, which uses darker, less saturated colors of the usually light color scheme of mori kei. it still follows the same layering scheme and relaxed silhouette, but as of now it has separated into strega, another subculture.

YAMA KEI

a more practical subcategory, usually for fans of the outdoors who love hiking/camping. this includes brighter and more vivid colors while also reverting to more practical clothes.

HAMA KEI

hama kei is a beach-based section, with uses of lighter clothing and less layers, as well as blues and yellows. you'd also see things such as stripes, anchors, and denim to add to the sailor-like outfits

[spaghettioverdose]

Umm ok sweetie so you learned "art"? You learned it by looking at other "art" and "things"? That's cute. But it's all derivative and you're literally stealing other people's art/artstyle sweaty :) :) :)

I have been locked inside a blank beige room since birth and have never seen images until last year.

I developed my art by scratching the walls of my containment with my teeth, revealing layers of dry blood and blue paint and green mold (to use as colour) and created images that way!! Based purely off of my original artistic genius and what I imagined other things looked and also my visions! I didn't have all this "digital" crap or like "paint" or "pencils". Can you really call yourself an artist if you use those? I only started having fingers last week.

Anyways I stopped doing art since I started seeing other images (I didn't want to steal other people's art(brcause I'm a good fucking person :) :) :) )) after I broke out of containment.

[roseletterchan]

So I decided to redesign Gabriel and his Hawkmoth form again for the Never Met AU since I realised that the old one would maybe be a bit too complicated to draw repeatedly

and I just couldn’t stand his duckbutt hair anymore, he just can’t pull it off like Sasuke. And well for his hair colour, I’m honestly just screwing around dark brown or blonde, saving the grey/white for Hawkmoth since it matches the design more. For the suit, chat(as in stream chat)said that I should go with grey since if I did beige he would look like a beige mom-

Edit: Also someone asked about the problem of him going into public, since the mask has less coverage if he would get recognised

Well to answer that firstly, in this universe that are different rules for the camouflage the miraculous does for its user, so the possibility of people recognising each other based off of appearance is basically impossible. Though regardless, I do have a version of him with a hat since the man is paranoid as hell. I just forgot to include it before since it was a hidden layer and I wanted to see his face-

But also I completely forgot that this man used to be a brunette like what, I found this while looking for references of the man.

[c-digital-being]

Randomly had the idea of, in the far, far flung future, Atlus releases like, Persona 17 or something, and I keep coming up with random absurd things about the game (and other things for this bizarre world where new Persona games never stop coming out)

P17's main color is light beige, they used up all the colorful colors by Persona 15

The main concept for P17's "other world" is based on some obscure, loose metaphor a psychologist used for the human subconscious one time, they had ran out of smart, semi-sensical metaphors by like, Persona 10

^ A friend of mine suggested that the "other world" be sandwich themed because a totally real psychologist compared the layers of mental instability to the layers of a sandwich (and to make the excuse that the main color represents the bread)

^^ The Velvet Room is a Subway

There are like 17 Social Stats to increase, they can only be ranked up like once or twice each, but doing it for all of them is tough, especially since you don't know which you'll need to unlock what

They've made so many Personas based on mythology and fictional creatures and the like, that Altus started coming up with their own mythologies just so they could base more Personas off them

There are Social Links / Confidants for every tarot card arcana ever made, but they still needed more Social Links / Confidants, so Atlus had to start making up their own arcanas

P17 actually takes place over the course of 2-3 years, otherwise you wouldn't have enough time to complete all the content even at max efficiency

There are like 32 magic affinities / elements, and like 14 physical ones, each party member commonly specializes in 2-3 magic affinities / elements, as well as a different physical affinity / element

The mascot character is like, an aardvark or something, it has no relation to anything in the game and it's kinda obvious that Atlus is just running out of popular animals to make into mascots

By popular demand, the P17 protag is finally bisexual, have fun trying to date all 50+ romance-able characters in the game, you asked for this

A deluxe version with even more content somehow is in development, get ready for Persona 17 Toasted a couple years after P17 releases

Speaking of rereleases, "Reload"s of previous Persona games have become somewhat of a standard, Altus has said Persona 13 Regrown (P13 is plant-themed) is nearing completion

There are rumors that P17 will have a spin-off that plays like a 3D Collect-a-Thon Platformer, mostly because it's one of the few genres of games the Persona series hasn't tried out in a spin-off yet

On the topic of spin-offs, the Persona Q games have lost their goddamn mind, each game still includes the groups from all of the previous Persona games as well as the group from the most recent Persona game at the time, Q14 literally has like over a hundred party members you can use, it's insanity

Thank you for joining me on this delve into complete Persona-themed stupidity, and I hope you're as hyped for Persona 17 as I am

[yellowbunnydreams]

Only Donors Left Alive [Vampire! Dave Miller x F! Reader] (Part 1)

~By popular demand, like weirdly popular for a cameo character in another fic, we're writing Vampire Dave today! Wooo! Also a big shout out to @ruh--roh-raggy and @springlockedfool for being feral over this man with me and springlockedfool for making some awesome art of the wet spaghetto based on our conversations/Do You Need Some Vitamin D?.~

Taglist: @ruh--roh-raggy @springlockedfool

CW: 18+ MINORS DNI- Female Reader, legal age gap, older man/younger woman, graphic acts of violence, biting, knife-play, blood, blood-drinking/licking, unbalanced power dynamic, anaemia, possessive behaviour, partial nudity

Hurricane was a small town with a nothing of particular note going on in it. Or at least, that was what you had been told by the realtor when you'd been looking for somewhere quiet to move to after you'd decided to move out of your parent's house. They seemed content to let you move to a small apartment in somewhere suburban, it had apparently been much more of a thriving town in the eighties, but you preferred the quiet.

As you'd dragged your suitcase from the cab in front of the apartment complex on the edge of town however, you'd already begun to notice a few things that weren't quite right with Hurricane. Although, you easily brushed it off as nerves with moving to somewhere unfamiliar and new.

The apartment complex itself was a drab, dusty grey concrete building that looked like it hadn't been externally renovated since it was built some time in the peak of Hurricane's history and as you let yourself inside the foyer, you noticed the lights had a sickly glow to them. Flickering hallogen lamps that gave you a subtle creepy feeling, like you were walking into somewhere you weren't meant to be.

The place was crap, the rent was cheap, but you were sure you could make it work out for yourself. At least, when all your things arrived over the next few days.

Sighing to yourself, you looked at the notice in your hand and shoved it roughly into the pocket of your denim jacket. Noticing a little elevator nestled into the back of the lobby, you went to try the button, waiting for the doors to open up. Hearing the grinding of metal against metal, and the squeal of the service brakes as the doors to the elevator shaft creaked open, the floor itself an inch or so above the level it should be, you decided it was in your best long-term interests to take the stairs.

Dragging the suitcase up wasn't easy, especially when you realised that you were on the top floor. But you had paid extra on the deposit for a larger apartment, and with four units of each floor and only two on the top floor, you weren't going to complain too much.

The hum of the lights as your breath sounded loud in your ears was somewhat comforting. Looking between the two doors, fishing the paper out of your pocket, you confirmed the number and shuffled over to your new door, wrapping your fingers around the metalic key in your pocket and unlocking the door.

Despite the dingy exterior of the building, the apartment inside was quite clean and somewhat modern. Spacious, painted a soft creamish beige on the walls, the floors were shockingly even laid down with a fresh layer of linoleum. The cupboards were painted a faint pastel bluish-grey, and the vinyl counters were clearly freshly laid, mimicking a black granite. The whole apartment smelt faintly like fresh paint and bleach.

"Well...this is home, I guess." You muttered to nobody. Leaving your suitcase by the door, you decided to explore the space.

The rest of the apartment was just as spacey. A slight hallway, a combined kitchen and lounge, you were quite surprised by the spacious bathroom too, the dark tiling along the walls contrasting to the white floors and a seemingly generous shower. And finally, the bedroom, it was perhaps a little smaller than you originally anticipated, but it was still large enough for you to fit a double bed inside and it came with a built in wardrobe along one wall. This place could easily be home, once the smell of heavy duty cleaning products aired out and you made sure to check the lease on how you could decorate.

Looking outside, you realised how late it was getting and decided to see if you could find somewhere that would deliver food to you. Scrolling through your phone and selecting a pizza place that sounded good, you began to unpack what little belongings you had managed to fit inside your suitcase, wanting to keep yourself busy.

After-all, you were sure you would have time to look around the sleepy little town in the morning.

The next few days were uneventful, much to your boredom and frustration.

All your boxes had arrived, you'd set up furniture, made sure appliances were up and connected. But you had begun to realise there were a few things that were not quite right with Hurricane when you had ventured out into town to grab supplies and things.

Firstly, there were the telephone poles, covered in staples like they were once decorated with posters of some kind, but the few you saw seemed to be missing pets and the occasional human face staring back at you. It made you sad, but when you asked the cashiers about it at the local store, they simply stared at you with wide eyes like they were surprised you had noticed. People didn't talk to each other in the same way as they had back home either. Back there, you went into a store and you could hear something like ten different conversations, but you had only heard whispered conversations amongst small groups that seemed tense when you passed by.

But you shrugged it off, you'd moved states, moved towns, brushing it off as simply strange, you tried to ignore the gut feeling you had that there was something else lurking beneath the surface of it all.

Entering your apartment building, you nearly tripped over a package sat in the lobby. Glancing over it, you realised that the box was addressed to the unit besides yours. Despite being there for a few days, it had seemed strange to you that you hadn't noticed anybody else living in the building, but you assumed that you would all meet at some point.

Balancing your groceries on top, you grunted as you picked up the box. Surprised by it's weight as you glanced at the elevator before sighing and lugging it up the stairs, knowing your legs were going to look great after how many times you'd taken the stairs recently. Although you had to admit that you really hoped your landlord fixed the elevator soon and allowed you to have a day off from going up and down to the top floor each and every time.

The usually twenty minute climb took about forty with the additional box and groceries.

When you reached the top step, you were glad to put the box down. Breathing hard and sweat beading against your brow in the Utah heat, heart pounding in your chest and ears as you let out a frustrated sigh. Closing your eyes for just a moment to gather yourself.

"Well aren't you a pretty sight?" The voice behind you suddenly made you gasp and whip around, heart beating even faster as you were met at first with a white-ish shirt that seemed a little baggy for whoever was wearing it.

Stepping back involuntarily, you noticed a tall, lanky man standing a little too close to you for your comfort. Having to look up slightly, you watched a crooked smile creep across his gaunt face, dark eyes darting about in a way that made you wonder if perhaps he was as flustered as you. Glancing over him as a whole, he appeared to be wearing some kind of unbranded security uniform, white with black epaulettes and black slacks. Not hiding his wiry figure, he looked greyish and like a particularly strong breeze might take him out upon initial inspection.

"Sorry?" The word tumbled from you quickly, and his gaze finally settled on yours for long enough to realise that he had blueish eyes, although they looked darker thanks to the heavy dark circles beneath them giving them a more sallow appearance.

"Oh you don't need to apologise, sugar, it's not often I get visitors all the way up here. And certainly fewer that look as....delectable...as you." The crooked grin spread, revealing crooked teeth, those blue eyes focused on you intently still as he looked down at you, you could feel your cheeks heating up under his intensity. But something about that same intensity made your skin crawl uncomfortably.

"I'm not a visitor, I live on this floor. That means you must be my neighbour, right?"

The man blinked and you felt a sense of relief washing over you as his smile faltered for a moment before that lopsided, cock-sure grin crept back onto his sharp face. Rubbing his hand along his black slacks before offering it to you, making you worry what he'd been touching before you tentatively shook it with a polite smile, caught off guard as his thin, dexterous fingers squeezed and you felt the strength behind his boney appearance. His skin felt cool to the touch and a little clammy, and you thought that maybe he'd just wiped down his sweaty hands to make it a little more pleasant for you.

"So you're my new little tenant. My my, aren't I a lucky guy."

"Come again?"

"Oh I will, pet, don't you worry. Dave Miller, landlord and your neighbour." He introduced himself as he kept hold of your hand for just a moment after you loosened your grip, making you laugh nervously. Bringing your hands back to your sides as you tried not to let your shocked expression show. "How are you enjoying the unit? I've had to perform some renovations after the last tenant....left some damage."

The way Dave spoke was a little odd, and you heard something of a British accent in that raspy, gravelly voice. People could be socially awkward, you reasoned with yourself, and Dave didn't look like the kind of man who easily socialised as his eyes once again were darting about in a way that made you subconsciously think of a wild animal. His dark hair looked slightly greasy, tousled like he's simply run his fingers through it when he woke up.

"The apartment is great! I love how spacious it is." Glad to change the topic as you suddenly remembered your groceries, picking them off of the top of the box and gesturing towards the large package with your free hand. "Oh, and um, I found this in the lobby? I hope it's yours, it was a pain lugging it up here, but at least I got my cardio in!"

"Hmmm? Oh yes, thank you sugar. And don't worry, I know you did, I could hear you all the way downstairs." Continuing to give that wide, crooked smile that felt uncomfortable as you swore his eyes darted to your neck and trailed up before focusing on you once again.

Bending over, Dave picked up the package easily, making you raise an eyebrow as you were still thinking about how rude his comment seemed, were you really that out of shape carrying up the box that he could hear you?

"I should...go put these groceries away,"

"Of course, I should put mine away too. It's been a pleasure meeting you," your name dripped from his tongue in a way that made your heart race and cringe at the same time. Like he was almost tasting it, a thought that made you shudder as you headed for your door. Turning your head over your shoulder to see if he was still there and found him staring after you, seeming to watch you with that crooked smile that didn't quite reach his darting eyes.

You decided you didn't know what to think of your landlord as you closed the door behind you and shut him out.

You rarely saw Dave after your initial introduction, at least for the first week or so. Occasionally you'd spot him in the evenings wearing that white uniform shirt that you were sure he'd stained permanently grey, but whenever he saw you, that lazy smile creeped onto him and you couldn't help but smile back. Often afterwards, you were left confused and disoriented by the action, like something had over ridden your senses to force the action. Dave made you feel slightly uneasy, at the very core of each interaction.

As did the growing number of missing posters in Hurricane.

You'd been in the supermarket when you heard your name called, one of the locals that you recognised as working in one of the mechanic's shops was stood by the register with a frown on his bearded face. The elderly cashier looking concerned as you pointed to yourself before moving over cautiously, wondering if you broke some small town ettiquette.

"You're new to town, right?" He asked gruffly, making you shrug and smile a little nervously at the sudden question.

"Yeah, moved in about a week or so ago now, sir."

"You live in that apartment complex on the edge of town, don't ya?"

"Yes?"

"Be careful, there's been...things...happening..." He gesticulated vaguely and the older cashier scoffed, blinking behind her thick glasses at you as she smacked on on his shoulder, tutting disapprovingly.

"Don't mind him lovely, he don't know how to talk to people. What he means to say is that there have been a few people going missing in Hurricane recently, and all the locals are nervous. Especially since they're mostly out of towners and...well...people that live on the fringes of our social circles." She explained, making you think back to your walk home, how you had noticed a few more posters up than when you first arrived. "Do you need a ride home? Jason here can give you a ride, I worry about a young lady walking home this late if there's been all this strangeness about."

You smiled and thanked her, assuring her and who you found out to be her son that you would be fine. You were always fine. If anything, you refused to mention how it felt like the last few nights you had been followed by somebody. However, whenever you turned around or glanced into a reflective surface as you walked past, you never saw anybody. Putting it down to your paranoia about the missing people. Soon, it was time to walk home again however, and you said your goodbyes.

The streets were beginning to turn dark as you walked through the cooler evening temperatures. Stopping to look at one of the telephone poles that had many posters stapled to it, finding a total of five people and four pets that had gone missing over the short time you'd lived in Hurricane.

If anybody had been more superstitious, they might have blamed you for it all.

As you were lost in thought however, you heard the screech of barely working brakes and turned to look at the noise naturally. Spotting a Toyota Corolla pulling up, beat up silver, the tyres looked like they were on the verge of needing replacing, and as the window rolled down, it was both to your dread and delight that you realised it was Dave behind the wheel. An uncustomary scowl on his face even as he looked at you.

"The fuck are you doing out here?" His rasp sent a shiver down your spine, frowning, you crossed your arms across your chest and raised an eyebrow.

"Good evening to you too Dave. I tried knocking on your door this morning to let you know that another package had arrived for you." Watching his scowl lessen as he ran his slender hand over his angular face. Sucking his crooked teeth slightly.

"I don't do mornings, sugar, no matter how tempting the little treat at my door is." You felt your cheeks flushing as you felt that gut twist once more despite the flutter that the compliment caused in your chest. "You shouldn't be out here all alone."

"So people have said."

"Let me give you a ride."

"Absolutely not."

"Alright, let me give you a ride back, please, sugar. This ain't even about rent, it's the principle of the thing." Dave sighed, looking at you with a scowl until you sighed and nodded your head. Walking around to his passenger side and barely had yourself buckled in before he pulled a u-turn in the middle of the road.

"Jesus fucking Christ."

"Nope, Dave Miller. I'd rather hear you screaming that." The comment crawled under your skin and made you cringe, watching that sleazy smile come back. There was the Dave you'd seen and knew. Unsure on how to respond as he drove through the darkened streets, hurtling towards your complex with a practised precision.

"Are you heading to work?" Attempting to change the subject, he nodded as his face contorted into a mask of concentration, his eyes darting wildly, although they seemed to focus a little too intently on you whenever you spoke to him directly.

"Yeah, the night-shift is always fun as long as you're not afraid of what goes bump in it." His way of speaking still resonated to you as a bit odd, but despite it being something like the second time you'd spoken to your landlord, you couldn't help but think that it was simply him.

Sooner than you expected, you were outside your building. Unclipping your seatbelt quickly, only for Dave's hand to reach out and hold onto your wrist. Your eyes widening as you turned to look at him, watching that somewhat feral smile with sharp, slightly disarrayed teeth lazily spread as he gazed up at you, bending in his seat and bringing your hand up to his cold, thin lips. Making you cringe physically and mentally, seemingly to his amusement as he began to chuckle. Swearing his fingers were positioned like he was taking your pulse before he let you go, licking his lips slightly and humming in thought.

"Have a goodnight, sugar. Make sure to lock your door tight, you wouldn't want....something...unsavoury...getting in, would you?" Phrasing it like a question, but your heart pounded as you weakly nodded and felt your body shaking slightly, climbing out of Dave's car and heading into your building as quickly as you could. Feeling his eyes burning into your back before you made it into the lobby and peered out, watching his silver car slowly pulling out of the parking lot once again.

No wonder the rent was so cheap. You weren't sure how anybody could stand being neighbours with Dave for extended periods of time.

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Silver Linings [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: (@xin-bloomx) Center (@itsthegreenaesthetic) Right (@pennyspearl)

Prompt: During a girl's trip that seems to keep going wrong, the reader’s swimsuit falls apart in the pool and she has to ask the nice man in a suit - Aaron - for a helping hand. Sparks begin to fly when the reader pays Hotch back for his help that morning. 

Pairing: Aaron x Non-BAU!Reader, fem!Reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns 

Category: Fluff/comfort

Word Count: 7.7K 

Content Warnings: Language, awkward situation, mention of drinking alcohol, break-ups/fighting [reader's friends]. Please let me know if I missed any. 

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! This fic is based on a prompt from my July Prompt List (linked). A swimming suit mishap leaves Character A in an awkward position until Character B comes to the rescue. I had fun writing this and trying to make the silly situation seem realistic. My tone in this story is heavily based on the current book I’m reading, A Little Life, so it feels slightly different, that’s why. I did make up some friends for the reader, I hope you don’t mind too much. Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

y/l/n = your last name 

y/s = your situation (i.e. living/job situation) 

y/f/c = your favorite color 

g/s = gold or silver (whichever matches your skin tone best) 

Aaron woke up with goosebumps on his arms. He groaned slightly, rolled over, and shut off his alarm, disturbing what wasn’t an unpleasant dream. It hadn’t been anything extraordinary, but still, it was nice. Hotch placed a forearm over his eyes as the brightness of the room overwhelmed his senses. As he moved around beneath the covers, the slightly starchy sheets crinkled and made small sounds as the sheets adjusted to his shifting weight on the mattress.

He closed his eyes to add another layer of darkness apart from his arm, which was draped over his eyes. He closed the privacy curtains last night in his room along with the smaller, more decorative white sheer curtains in his hotel as he’d returned from the conference he was attending this weekend. Aaron observed that no matter what hotels he was booked for this kind of thing, two elements almost always remained consistent, the air conditioning was always frigid when he entered the room or woke, and no matter what he did to try and keep his room dark, in the morning, the sun managed to wake him. There were four more minutes of silence before his alarm rang again and he cursed Rossi slightly under his breath before turning off the alarm, swinging his feet over the side of the bed, and fully waking up. 

He took another moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, as his vision cleared, he watched as the smaller white curtains billowed from the air coming out of the air conditioner housed under the window of his room. It was like unseen hands were playing with the fabric, tossing it back and forth. Hotch yawned once, stood, and made his way to the bathroom. He hadn’t overslept which was good. It would give him time to shower and do a proper shave, and if the traffic wasn’t bad, he’d be able to get some good coffee before heading to the first lecture of the day. He never had high praises for the coffee at the Quantico Field Office’s break room, but somehow the caffeine offered at the sad beige-looking conference center in the heart of D.C. was worse.

He could taste the bitter acidity of it on his tongue as he thought about it, so he moved to the sink and washed his face, then brushed his teeth. He relieved himself before turning on the hot water in the shower. As the water came to an acceptable degree, he stripped off the white t-shirt he often slept in, and his boxers, leaving them on a chair near the desk. He walked past the bathroom mirror, already fogging up not taking time to notice of his reflection. He wouldn’t do that until he had to. As he stepped into the shower and closed the glass door around him he felt the aching in his feet and joints. The Friday session had been grueling with lots of standing and walking around and then loads of boring conversations that dulled his brain to hell and back. He was expecting more of the same today and was already dreading it. 

As he cleaned every inch of his body with his lightly scented body wash, his fingers lathered the soap, he ignored the feeling of softness on his stomach and upper legs. Instead, he focused on the muscles he could still feel. His daily wash was like a ritual in grounding. If he had the time or the belief in meditation he might try that, but he never had - even if his therapist had suggested it multiple times. Aaron let his mind wander to the annual Technologies and Crime convention that the Cyber Crimes Unit annually hosted. All of the higher ranking members of the FBI were required to attend, or at least a member of each team. Really, the event was more for the administrators who often stayed in their offices while everyone else went out on the field. Not that those positions and jobs weren’t important, but those agents did seem older and less familiar with technology than some of the younger agents.

Not that he considered himself young, but he at least knew how to convert a PDF into a Word document and how to attach a file to an email. The specific topics being covered this year were AI and fraud, cryptocurrencies, and possible attacks on the failing infrastructure system in the U.S. which had actually been interesting. He chose to attend the sessions that dealt with the legal side of these issues as he had possibly the smartest tech whiz on his team, Penelope Garcia, to cover their backs whenever any technology was concerned. For a moment, when he’d drawn the short straw with Rossi, he considered bribing Garcia to go in his place, but one, bribes weren’t technically legal, and two, Penelope was sure to start fights with the presenters about how they were incorrect about their codes or something, and he wanted to avoid that conversation with Strauss if he could. So, he sighed, packed his bags, and left that Thursday for D.C. 

Aaron finished with his shave, moved back to the bedroom, and dressed. As he slipped on his shoes, he looked over the room. It was nice. It didn’t need to be, but it was. The hotel was some sort of upcycled, repurposed office building that had an open floor plan and industrial exposed architecture. He tried to think about what it must have been like working there before it had gone under. He cringed at the thought and quickly moved out of his room. He made sure to grab his suit jacket and car keys along with his badge. As he moved into the hallway and toward the elevator, he considered the hotels to be very much like hospitals. Bland, cold, hopefully clean. Spaces meant to comfort and emulate home but somehow had an uncanny-valley-esque effect on him. He was suddenly relieved that he was checking out early tomorrow morning. Excited to see Jack and pick him up from his mom’s house. Excited to see his team. There would be relief in the familiar. If this was a flaw of his, he didn’t hate it as much as he hated some of the other things about himself. 

y/n lay flat on her back, letting the chlorine water of the pool, unnaturally blue, wash over her body. The heat of the morning sun wasn’t too hot, yet. She’d hoped the pool would be empty, but a few guys and girls were sitting on the edge, and even more kids with moms who looked tired or hung over. y/n didn’t blame them, she’d be wasted too right now if it there hadn’t been such a bad fight last night between her friends. She was glad then, to be the sober friend so she could stop anyone from doing more than emotional damage to each other. Her reputation as the ‘mom friend’ had seemed to stick past college. She didn’t mind really, she just wished there was one time when she could be fully carefree, maybe have someone looking out for her back instead of doing the same for others all the time. A splash of water from one of the kids cannonballing close to her hit y/n in the face. y/n stood up, adjusted the straps of her swimsuit that were a size too big for her, and waded to the deep end where the boisterous children hadn’t congregated yet. 

y/n closed her eyes and kept one hand on her swim top. The last thing she wanted to do was flash some, and the shoddy construction of her swimsuit didn’t give her much confidence. As she looked up at the blue sky spackled with light grey clouds floating above her, she considered that the trip had been ill-conceived since the beginning and that she really should have seen this outcome in the cards. She had been farther out from her friend group and always had been. All five of them met at college and lived on the same floor in one of the oldest dorms on campus. They ended up taking a lot of the same classes and forming a pretty tight friend group.

Four years later, they’d all moved on to jobs or marriage or another degree. Personally y/n found herself in y/s. It wasn’t wholly bad. She made money and had a place to stay, but in terms of fulfillment and success, she felt like her life was a lot less than many of her friends; their relationships, jobs, and houses. Even the idea of it made her annoyed, not at them, but at herself. She hated pity, especially if she was the one being pitied. “Suck it up, Buttercup” was a phrase she stated a lot, but it seemed harder to do that now while her mind was more empty. Since college, it had been harder for them to all get together as they moved away and started their adult lives. They always texted in the group chat during Spring Break or Summer that they should get together again. Then there would be a slew of anecdotes from their time in uni, pictures from the beach or study abroad, laughter, and nostalgia for a time that seemed ephemeral now that they were older. 

Finally the most active and the planner of the five friends actually made a plan and asked everyone to list good dates when they actually could see each other for a weekend. Just them girls, no husbands, boyfriends, or children allowed. It would just be them and fun in the sun. They’d all made it work because they knew if they didn’t have a meet-up soon, they’d never do it, and even if this was their last hurrah, at least they’d kept their word: ‘friends for life.’ y/n had to fight with her boss for a weekend off at her second job, but she’d accrued the time and had good relationships with her co-workers who said they’d cover her shift if their boss, a real stick in the mud - gave her trouble. Then there was the problem of the ticket prices. y/n didn’t make a lot, and a flight was out of the option. They’d all picked D.C. because it was the closest to all of them combined, and there was a lot to do there, sightseeing, decent food, and such, so y/n had gotten an Amtrack ticket. It took twice as long for her to get to the hotel, but it was twice as cheap, so she was happy even if she was tired. 

Apart from planning problems, the first issue came up when the first girl had to drop out because her kid caught the flu. This woman, Kelly had drawn far away from everyone since her marriage. Only one of their friends, Grace, had gotten an invite to Kelly’s wedding. So it wasn’t a huge deal, even though that thought made y/n feel bad. y/n often wondered if Kelly was happy with her four children, her husband, and her big house out in the suburbs of Maryland. From her Facebook posts, it seemed like it, but it was hard to tell. Then Veronica’s luggage got lost at the airport, or the airport in Denver where she’d had a layover. After she finished complaining over the group's first drinks of the vacation, all four of them, y/n, Grace, Veronica, and Kira went into town and watched Veronica spend an exorbitant amount of money to replace her lost things. She brushed off her causal spending and y/n and Kira’s eyes grew wide at the check out. Veronica sheepishly looked at them and said, “Drinks and dinner on me tonight, gang.” Veronica knew she was much better off than her friends, thanks to her parents. No one in the group was mad about this. Veronica didn’t flaunt her money, or she hadn’t in college. Actually, she’d helped them all out a lot, including buying y/n’s textbooks sophomore year. y/n had promised to pay her back, and after months y/n had saved enough to do so. When y/n presented Veronica with the money, she declined it instantly and told y/n to spend it on something she wanted, or needed. After y/n had gotten back to her apartment, she cried. She wasn’t sure why, but she had. 

The last issue, the big issue that had gotten y/n out of bed early to avoid her friends was a fight between Grace and Kira. It just wasn’t a fight, it was a friendship-ending fight. Of all five of them, Kira and Grace had remained the closest, mostly because they lived in the same town and in the same apartment. They still hung out like all of them used to. They had the same circle of friends and, surprisingly to everyone, the same boyfriend. There was no getting around it. It had started while Kira and Tom were taking a break. He’d slid into Graes DM’s trying to not look shady, acting like he wanted emotional support, but he ended up wanting more, and Grace had given it to him. Then, when Kira and Tom had patched things up, Grace promised herself she’d never do that again, but it turned out she, nor Tom had that much willpower, or decency to stop seeing each other on the sly. The truth came tumbling out of Grace’s mouth in a much less composed way. She’d begged and pleaded to all of them, to Veronica and y/n more than Kira for forgiveness, but everyone was too stunned to do anything for a while. Then Kira started sobbing profusely and then screaming, and that’s when y/n pushed Grace out of the room and toward her own which she was sharing with Veronica.

Not that Veronica couldn’t afford her own room, it was that y/n couldn’t and Veronica had taken pity on her. Again that work pity had popped up, and y/n shook it off. At least there was one person who y/n had little pity for, and that was Grace. It ended up being a long night as y/n sat with Grace and listened to her ramble once she’d stopped crying and moved to the bar in the lobby. After an hour, y/n got a text from Veronica asking to trade places and y/n agreed. Veronica was kind and generous, but not the best with comforting people in the face of big emotions, or any emotions, so y/n told her where she was, swung by their room to grab an unopened bottle of wine she’d bought at the store earlier, and made it to Kira’s room where she spent the next two hours listening and finally tucking her friend under the covers. 

The fallout from the fight last night had effects that changed y/n’s anticipated vacation and catch-up, and greatly dampened her mood. The first was that Veronica had bought Grace an early flight home that morning which would leave in an hour and save them all some awkwardness. Veronica had also bought herself a ticket home as well. The richest of the group had justified her choice to leave early because she was sad about the situation and didn’t want to be sad before she went on her big summer vacation in Italy in two weeks. This had all been explained in the new group chat, sans Grace,  in a load of bright messages that y/n had woken up to that morning. y/n realized this was probably for the best, but it still made her sad. She had hoped for it to be like the old days and it wasn’t. Nothing about growing up and finishing college and getting a job had been what she’d expected, so she didn’t know why she’d hoped for a change this time. 

y/n blinked away the sleepiness in her eyes and sat up on Kira’s bed. Her friend was still asleep and y/n replied to Veronica’s texts saying she’d be at the pool, and to come and see her there before Veronica’s flight left which was shortly after Grace’s. y/n decided to not waste her time off. She’d planned for it and spent money on it, and wanted to have a good time even if it was by herself. y/n had also grabbed her backpack last night with her clothes and the color of her new swimsuit jumped out at her from the other clothes inside. With a smile, y/n grabbed the two pieces and put them on in the bathroom. y/n turned on the bright light and examined herself in the mirror. The swimwear was from SHIEN and not well made, but it looked good on her. It was y/f/c. There were g/s rings on the top and bottom. The two pieces of fabric were connected in the front with a ring and both sides also had rings with straps that connected at the back. The neck closure was just a traditional sting bikini-style top. The two halves of the bottom of the suit were also held together at the sides with rings. With the design of the suit, there was lots of exposed skin, but y/n was comfortable with that; it would allow her to get a nice tan which didn’t happen when she was at work all hours of the day. The rings weren’t real s/g, they were a cheap plastic knockoff.  She left Kira a note with where she’d be and then grabbed a towel, her sunscreen flip-flops, and a tote bag with her essentials before heading out the door. 

y/n was just fully relaxed after being splashed when her senses picked up something she didn’t want to hear. She lifted her head slightly further out of the water so she could hear and it confirmed that Veronica and Grace were walking in her direction. There was a clattering of suitcases on the ground and y/n quickly pressed herself to the side of the pool so that neither of them could see her, or more specifically, so Grace couldn’t see her. y/n did want to say goodbye to Veronica but not at the expense of having to see Grace. She knew that was selfish, but she and Kira were good friends, and y/n hadn’t fully processed what Grace’s betrayal had meant for them as a group yet. It would change the whole dynamic and she didn’t want to hear Grace apologize again, to grovel at her feet. She was angry with Grace and what she’d done. For now, she wanted to be justifiably angry. Plus, if Veronica was leaving early, she could stay hidden, both were forms of coping. y/n’s chest was pressed against the wall and the texture of the pool scratched her skin slightly. She listened as Grace talked to Veronica. She groaned for a while and Veronica reminded Grace that she expected to be paid back for the flight and highly recommended she stay below the radar for a few weeks before talking to y/n or Kira. Grace agreed and then the sound of someone walking away and pulling a suitcase behind them. 

y/n held her breath, not that that was going to do anything, and let it out when Veronica said, “You’re safe y/n, you can come out of hiding now.” y/n let out a chuckle and pushed herself off the wall so she could see Victoria. She watched as her friend ditched her bags and moved to the gate separating the pool from the outside of the hotel and didn’t notice as the ring holding the front of her suit together cracked and the fabric on one side of the suit slowly started creeping down to the opening. Veronica moved to the side of the pool and knelt near y/n who was about to get out of the pool, but Veronica said, “You don’t have to get out y/n. You look like you’re having fun and you should enjoy it.” y/n looked up at her friend and could tell she was being serious. After all, y/n would get Veronica’s perfect travel outfit wet if she tried to hug her goodbye, so instead she asked, “Are you leaving now too?” 

Veronica nodded and replied, “Yeah. You know how crazy flights are right now with all the cancellations and it’s going to be a long wait anyway, so I might as well get there early. It can’t hurt.” y/n nodded along even though it had been years since she’d flown. y/n was looking for something to say apart from bye, but couldn’t find the words. Veronica smiled and said, “I enjoyed catching up with you yesterday, y/n. I promise to come down and see you more often, okay?” y/n nodded suddenly feeling emotional. She blinked rapidly a few times before saying, “Please. I’d like that Ver. I’m sorry it ended like this.”

Veronica snorted and said, “You don’t need to apologize y/n. Grace does. Now, can you promise me something before I go and let you get back to the pool?” y/n nodded not sure what to expect. Ver took a breath and looked over at the street where her Uber would be to pick her up in a second before turning back and said, “Do something fun today. Go out, eat something good, drink something nice. You deserve it.” y/n felt herself soften and the tears recede. She and Ver were not much alike, but Veronica was a good person and could read her well. y/n finally replied, “I will. Promise. Now you’d better go, those four bags aren’t going to carry themselves to the Uber.” Veronica laughed loud and bright as she stood up and replied, “I bet if I paid them enough they would.” As she got to her bags and started pulling them toward the waiting car y/n shouted, “Oh get out of here, and have a safe flight!” Ver gave a final wave and then moved beyond where y/n could see. 

y/n turned around to relax again, and this was when her swimsuit fully betrayed her. The other half of the front ring snapped and it fell into the water leaving her front fully open. If it hadn’t been for y/n covering her chest in embarrassment, she would have flashed everyone at the pool. As y/n gripped the thin fabric to her chest with one hand, she turned around with the other and grabbed onto the wall again. To add insult to injury, her left strap also fell apart, the thin stitching fraying with y/n’s small movements in the water. y/n let out a breath and firmly kept her hand in place as she rested her head on the hand that was holding her to the wall. She thunked her head softly against her arm a few times. Her suit falling apart felt like a metaphor for this trip and her adult life in general. The cheapness of her clothes was a reminder of her economic status that none of her other friends seemed to worry about, even if they should. After a moment of accepting the situation, y/n looked behind her shoulder to see the rest of the pool. For some reason it seemed like the number of people enjoying the water had increased, especially the children present even though she knew it wasn’t possible. No one apart from Veronica had come or gone from the space. y/n took a breath and considered her options. The most obvious would be to just get out of the pool, but now the kids were running around as their moms paid less attention to them. 

The simple choice was to use both of her hands to heave her body from the pool to the side, but that would require both of her hands and would result in her top opening or coming off altogether, and with the kids around, she didn’t want to flash them, or anyone for that matter. The next option was to shimmy all the way around the pool with one hand, make it to the ladder in the shallow end, and climb out that way. However, the ladders were both near couples and she couldn’t bear the idea of having to make her way out of the water with the younger and attractive couples looking directly at her and realizing what was happening. Then there was the option of calling for help, either from one of the younger people closer to her age, or to one of the parents, but everyone suddenly seemed so involved: gossiping, sleeping, reading, scolding a child for running around. Although everyone seemed occupied, it also felt like everyone was also looking at her. Like they knew what was happening and having a little laugh about it at her expense.

y/n turned quickly back to the wall when one of the moms did look her way. y/n closed her eyes and knew she was making up the other people’s reactions. No one really cared about her and that was part of what made her so aware. Where was her mom friend when she needed one? y/n also knew she was tired; she’d hardly gotten any sleep last night and it was wearing her out. y/n wished she wasn’t so self-conscious. With those thoughts, she also tried to think of any other means of escaping her current situation that didn’t involve someone who was at the pool in that moment and she realized she could just wait for someone who seemed less judgy to come outside and she’d flag them down to help her. It’d be embarrassing as hell, but she’d likely never see them again, as she was leaving tomorrow. 

This idea seemed great until it felt like hours before anyone else came outside. The first few people weren’t great candidates. They were either elderly or had kids, or were attached at the hip. y/n was beginning to give up hope and feel the skin of her fingers wrinkle from the water. She was also cold now, half from being in the shadow of the tall hotel, and half from the humiliation of being in such a position. Finally, someone came out of the building’s side entrance and toward the pool. The hotel was really nice, above her budget, and the pool area was buffeted by greenery and an interior courtyard that had a path leading to the parking out in the back. So unless a guest wanted to use the pool, sit in the courtyard, or take the scenic route to their car, there wasn’t much need for the path sitting a few feet from where y/n now clung to the wall shivering. But the man who walked out the door and was quickly getting closer seemed like an apt candidate to help. He looked older, but not too old, and he was moving at a leisurely pace. He was wearing a suit and held a briefcase which meant he was probably leaving to go somewhere important and would quickly forget this inconvenience ever happened to him. 

Aaron took the long way out to his car. Through the lobby and then around by the courtyard and pool. The little courtyard was cute, enclosed by plants with a small fountain in the center of the space. There were benches around the space that would be nice to sit at and have a coffee and read for a while. Aaron assumed the space didn’t get used very often. Not many people came to hotels to just stay on the property. He stood there for a moment enjoying the quiet, the solitude he was sure he wouldn’t find at the conference. Beside the small trickle of water from the fountain, he could hear splashing from the pool. The water looked bright blue and he imagined himself spending a few hours there instead of the cold convention center.

Apart from his qualms about his older body, he would love it, and he could always wear a t-shirt over his trunks. After heaving a sigh, he checked his watch, and if was very much time for him to head out. He was already stalling, so he moved toward the pool. His mind was in another place when he heard someone calling, “Sir. Sir, could you…” Aaron’s head snapped toward the pool when he realized the small voice was calling him. It had to be him because he was the only one there and he was the only “Sir” around. He caught the eyes of a woman close to him. She was on the edge of the pool and he could just see her head and shoulders. As soon as their eyes met she suddenly turned her eyes away and flushed like she was embarrassed about something. Hotch blinked a few times trying to determine if he was the source of discomfort, or if it was something else. 

He finally cleared his head and stepped forward and asked, “Yes. Sorry, can I help you?” The woman only seemed to be more flustered as she replied, “I’m sorry to bother you, but could you get my towel from the chair over there?” and then much more softly, “Sorry,” again. Aaron’s eyes flitted from her to the chair and back. It was an odd request. By all means it looked like the woman could just get out of the pool and get the towel herself. However, Aaron paused here. He never wanted to assume someone’s story even though that was a huge part of his job.

He reminded himself that he didn’t know this person’s background or medical history and that she might not be as able-bodied as he assumed. After all, she had seen embarrassed to ask for help and her avoiding his eyes was indicative of her discomfort about something. Hotch had decided to help y/n before he understood why she had asked for help. ‘Be a gentleman’ Aaron reminded himself. It was what Garcia always called him when he opened the door for her or got her a little treat. He didn’t feel like he deserved the title, but now was his chance to live up to the name. He stepped toward the gate as she said, “I’ve got you. I’ll be right there.” 

There were other people at the pool, but Hotch didn’t pay attention to them. He moved to the chair the woman had gestured at and picked up the white towel that was warmed from sitting in the sun. He moved back toward y/n and as he got closer he realized what was happening. He noticed that only one of the straps on the woman’s suit was attached, and the style was clearly not meant to be asymmetrical. As he moved forward y/n with the towel, he averted his eyes to make sure he didn’t get a look at y/n’s chest which she was covering to the best of her ability. He knelt at the lip of the pool and asked, “Um, how would you like to do this?” 

y/n flushed looking up at the man. He was attractive, more so now that she had a closer look at him and the sun wasn’t shining directly in her eyes. She wanted to nod her head at the stupidity of thinking the man was hot, but couldn’t avoid memorizing the shape of his face in the back of her mind. For a second she wished he was ugly, it would make her situation less awkward. y/n shook her head slightly to clear it before saying, “You can just drop it down. I’ll figure it out. Sorry to have bothered you.” Hotch bit the inside of his cheek and replied, “Don’t be sorry. Stuff happens.” Hotch felt bad just leaving like that and he continued, “I can hand this to you and I’ll turn around. And when you’re comfortable I can help you out if you like. That way you don’t have to cross the pool in a wet towel. No one else will have to know.” He said the last part softly like he understood what y/n was going through; deeper than just in that moment. y/n looked up at him and tried to avoid shaking with how cold she was. The man seemed so sincere that she nodded her head and pushed off the wall slightly as he handed her the towel in her free hand. True to his word the tall man turned away, giving y/n a nice look at his long legs. She stopped herself from leering and pulled the towel under the water getting it wet. She pulled it around her and wrapped it in the front so it would cover her chest. She let her hand that had been giving her privacy for a while rest and it ached with how hard she’d been pressing against her skin. When y/n was happy that the towel was secure to her body, she moved back to the wall and said, “I’m good now.” 

Aaron turned around and knelt back down. y/n looked up at him and said, “You don’t have to do this. You’ll get your suit wet.” Hotch brushed off the woman’s concerns. He could sense the tiredness in her voice and he wouldn’t leave now until he knew she was okay. He did, however, slip off his suit jacket and tossed it onto an empty chair. Then he slipped off his shoes and socks. The warmth of the ground warmed the soles of Aaron’s feet as he crouched down again and said, “There. Now it’s not a problem. Can you give me your arms? I’ll pull you up.” y/n didn’t really think as she nodded and lifted her hands out of the water and into the strong grip of the stranger's hands. Aaron pulled back and up slightly, heaving the weight of the woman and now sopping fabric out of the pool. It wasn’t hard work, but y/n’s knees went a bit slack as she got back on dry land and Hotch quickly moved to hold her under her armpits.

It wasn’t until Aaron had more contact on y/n’s body that he realized she was shivering, but hiding it well. Without asking, Hotch carefully helped y/n to a seat next to the one he’d tossed his jacket on. y/n let him lead her and she watched as he moved toward the towel bin to get her a fresh, dry towel. He grabbed one from the bin and then moved back to y/n whose eyes were on the ground. She felt a bit disoriented but better now that she was sitting down. When Hotch was in front of her again he pulled the new towel’s edge in his hand and moved it to y/n’s chest. He half suggested, half commanded, “Why don’t you slip off the wet towel and I’ll tie this in the back?” y/n nodded listlessly and did as the man said, letting the cold towel fall into her lap. She placed her arms over the dry fabric and she watched as the man moved behind her to tuck the ends of the towel over itself to keep her modest. 

Hotch moved back in front of y/n and rubbed her arms trying to get her grounded and her circulation going. y/n snapped back to herself when she realized that the man’s sleeves were wet, pressed to the arms and skin underneath. She looked up at him and in a clearer voice said, “Thank you so much. Really, I’m fine now.” Aaron stopped his hands midway up her arms and said, “Don’t mention it. You should maybe get inside. Drink something sweet to get your blood sugar up.” y/n nodded and said again, “Thanks so much, this is so embarrassing. Could I pay you back the kindness? If you’re going to be back tonight I’ll grab you a drink at the hotel bar. Or a better bar if you know one in town.” Aaron’s face broke out into a smile and he said, “I’d like that. How about we meet at the lobby at 8:00?” y/n smiled back, suddenly not so cold, and said, “That’s perfect for me.” Hotch stood and started moving to his car, knowing he was late now. As he rolled up his sleeves he said, “I’m Aaron Hotchner, by the way.” y/n waved sheepishly and said, “I’m y/n y/l/n. See you tonight, Aaron.” By the time her words were out of y/n’s mouth Aaron was almost out of sight, but they had a plan and it made y/n feel much better than she had this morning, something she’d have to think about all day. 

Once Hotch got to his car he let himself relax. Yeah, he was going to be late to the convention, but he didn’t care. Others had been late yesterday so he drove toward the coffee shop, he felt lighter now. Better. Something to look forward to tonight. Being able to do something just for the fun of it, something that would be so easy for Morgan, Penelope, or Em was a nice change of pace. It would help him get through what he was sure to be a long day. 

y/n also felt better. Mostly because she’d been seen by someone. It was a stranger, but a kind one. One that hadn’t begrudgingly helped her and then left instantly. No, Aaron had done more than he needed, and even though she felt like a teenager being set up on a blind date, she was excited for the evening. y/n went inside and grabbed a glass of juice from the cold juice bar, an amenity that hotels she normally stayed at didn’t have, before moving back to her empty room and falling into bed. An hour later she found that Kira had texted her and invited y/n up to her room where she went and described what had happened that morning. Kira seemed excited for y/n and even after y/n asked if she was sure it was fine that she left her friend for a few hours, Kira said, “y/n, you should go. Have some fun. God knows you deserve it after last night and this morning. Put on something pretty and get a drink, and just have a good time, okay?” y/n smiled in a way that showed the small wrinkles near her eyes and said, “Alright, I think I can do that. God you would have loved the way this guy looked this morning. Tall dark and handsome. It’s like I won the jackpot or something.” A few moments later Kira and y/n were in fits of laughter as her friend came up with a more and more outlandish way for y/n to get a picture of Aaron without him knowing about it. 

y/n stood in the lobby at 7:55. She was wearing a nice outfit, but nothing overdone. She reminded herself that this wasn’t a date, multiple times, but had given her makeup a good attempt. Kira had helped her make sure it looked good. y/n was sure that this outfit wouldn’t fall apart on her. It was a skirt she’d had for ages and a shirt that flattered her. She paired it with some black tights and creepers, which she kept shuffling around in while she waited for Aaron. The ding of the elevator made y/n turn her head, and she smiled as Aaron walked out. He had changed from his business attire. Now he was in a pair of slacks and a dark polo shirt. The man kept looking better and better each time y/n saw him. She raised a hand and gave a small wave as he walked over to her. When Aaron got in front of her he said, “Hey, y/n. You’re looking well.” y/n was flustered by the compliment and replied, “Um, thank you. You’re looking well yourself. Those dark colors compliment you.” Hotch let out a little breath and watched as y/n eyed the bar skeptically. She looked back at him and asked, “So what’s the plan, Stan?” Aaron also looked over the crowded, overpriced hotel car and replied, “Well, there’s a place three blocks from here that has better and cheaper drinks than… that.” He eyed the bar, and from his periphery saw y/n relax. He wasn’t sure why she calmed, but did add, “That is if you’re comfortable walking with me.” 

y/n took a second to think about what Aaron had said. Not that she was reckless, but she’d done dumb things in the hope of love before. Stupid really given she was a woman. That had been years ago, and she’d been single for so long it had become her norm. This had been helpful last night as her friends looked singleness in the face for the first time in years. It seemed that y/n’s old habits in dating hadn’t fully left her, and only Aaron mentioning that she’d be walking alone with him reminded her how stupid she had been. However, Aaron didn’t seem like the type of man who would harm her. He had helped her that morning and she slowly said, “No, I don’t mind. It will stop me from drinking too much probably which is a good thing. I fly out tomorrow morning, so no drunken foolishness for me.” Aaron smiled and said, “Alright then. We’ll get you back after one drink.” The pair moved outside into the cool air of summer. It was slightly humid and the walk was short. The bar was small and cozy. It was full of neon signs, and although y/n had offered to buy their drinks, Aaron picked up the tab anyway. He got a gin and tonic while he ordered y/n’s favorite drink. She asked for it to be a double as she was only having one. 

They found a table in the corner and y/n and Hotch clinked glasses and each took a drink. There was an awkward pause as neither knew what to say. y/n finally came up with the words she wanted to, “Thank you for this morning. I hope I didn’t make you late for whatever you were heading to.” Hotch let out a chuckle as he replied,” I was happy to help. I was a bit late, but I wanted to be honest. I even got a coffee before heading to the conference.” y/n smiled happy to know she hadn’t been an inconvenience. She always assumed that corporate conferences were boring as shit and asked, “What was it a conference on?” 

Aaron took a moment to think about this response. He rarely started out that he was in the FBI. He found that it garnered immediate distrust with many, so he went with the easier option of, “Tech and AI.” The comment piqued y/n’s interest. Aaron didn’t look like a pretentious tech bro, and he was older than most of the men that she’d seen who were Musk fanatics. She probed for more information and asked, “Oh like ChatGTP is ruining students and enabling plagiarizing, or that The Patriot Act is good and we need for of that for State security?” Aaron hadn’t expected those two options and replied slowly, “More along the lines of the Patriot Act, but mostly cybercrime and cyber security.” y/n found herself relaxing again. ‘So he’s not a tech bro type.’ y/n continued speaking, “To be honest I never fully understood The Patriot Act. We covered it in high school APUSH, but it was at the end of the year and we breezed over it so fast. I just know its bad and scary but even that’s just from people I hear talking about it.” Hotch took a sip of his drink and said, “Well, it’s, complicated, that’s for sure. I could try and fill you in, but it’d take more than one drink for that.” He paused before asking, “So what brought you here?” 

y/n thought about why she’d exactly said yes to her friends. Why did she spend so much money? y/n said, “Well it was supposed to be a girl's trip, but it didn’t end so well. I guess I was hoping to rekindle some of that college energy, but I didn’t. I’m excited to go home if I’m being honest.” y/n stopped talking, realizing she was saying more than she intended. She tried to blink back her emotions and Aaron placed a hand on her shoulder. He understood what it meant to be sad somewhere else, somewhere far from home. Not an earth-shattering sadness, just a longing for something long gone. Something that had passed away with time. He swallowed and replied, “I’m sorry. I hope at least tonight is fun, has been fun?” y/n looked up at him and smiled, saying, “It has, it’s been great. I might actually get another drink, kind of fun. I’m down to learn about The Patriot Act after all.” Aaron couldn’t stop his laugh and caught y/n eyeing the dance floor. After he got her a second drink he’d suggest it, and he’d have a story to tell Morgan for once. If things felt good between the two of them when they got back to the hotel, he might offer y/n his number. He picked up his glass and y/n did too. They looked at each other and clinked glasses again. Aaron started the toast again by saying, “To learning U.S. history,” and y/n said, “To silver linings.” As they finished their drinks, Aaron looked down and noticed y/n’s hand brushed up against his. He moved his fingers slightly and brushed her fingers with his. The night was early and they both had flights in the morning, but there was still time to make it one to remember.

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[eolewyn1010]

Downton Abbey Fashion 18 - post-war evening dresses

I feel like all the dresses I personally find beautiful are the ones that are not allowed to come back for another season. Unfortunately, this applies to a large part of Cora’s early wardrobe.

Interestingly, while I’m pretty sure she wears this champagne evening gown at least twice, I think she never wears it without the dark brown velvet robe. At least I don’t remember having seen the sleeves of the dress. The colors are a nice enough match, but nothing on either piece points to them having been made as a set. The dress is embroidered in crystal or glass beads, the coat apparently in pearls. But anyway, this dress is lovely!

More velvet, this time in plum over a pink silk base layer. Plus a little white lace trim. So far, so nice, although I don’t know why they made the sleeves of yet another fabric instead of working out something similar to the deep cowl collar. But fine, the beige works as a nice backdrop to a little flower embroidery.

Cora can’t keep off the velvet this season – time for some black. It’s fashionable black, not mourning black, so Cora can afford to pretty it up with netting on sleeves and shoulders, tassels on the sleeve hems, a big brooch in the front, and some gorgeous lace gloves that I desire with a vengeance. Despite this being a quite heavily decorated dress, I think the neckline would invite a discreet little necklace. Ah well.

*sigh* This red silk work is quite an iconic look, and one that stays into season 3. I’m gonna level with you: I think it outstays its welcome. I don’t like this one. Oh, it’s a fine dress in theory; the embroidery is lovely, the red shades coordinate well with the golden shoulder straps, I’m a fan of the fluttery sleeves. But the cut of this bodice isn’t doing Cora’s figure any favors. Is there any reason to make her waist look so disproportionately short without really hitting the Edwardian empire waistline?

Much better. This goes a lot more into 1920s styles with the drapey chiffon top, and I think the hip overlay (sash?) looks very pretty. It’s the only heavily embroidered piece, which seems unusual for the muted coloring of the dress, but it merges very nicely into the wide sleeve cutouts with the jewel trim.

Yay, black dresses with embroidery are keepers for season 3. Okay, this is not the worst of them; the gold thread with beads makes for a pretty cute look, but why does Cora wear a sleeveless dress for Christmas? Or is this a shirt? The skirt is greyer, so it might be separate.

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There’s something with this season and brown dresses. It doesn’t always work in the wearer’s favor. I mean, I like this pleated wrap style, but the head scarf really washes out Rosamund’s beautiful ginger hair and the dress doesn’t give any other color pop either.

Hey, look, it’s a black dress with golden beading. You know what this means: It’s spectacular enough to stay into season 3! I’m getting very tired of this, but I can’t just bitch. The chiffon sleeves are cute, and there’s this style of little grape bundle earrings that pops up here and there across the show.

A black dress I find remotely interesting? Can only be here for one season. See, this one pulls off the empire waist Cora’s red silk dress didn’t want to commit to. And the top is basically just one big stretch of gold brocade (plus or minus some black chiffon for the sleeves). Damaged brocade, by the look of that second image. Is this an original? Is that why they couldn’t keep it around?

One of the subtler favorites of mine: The use of these black scallops is just delicious, how they open to diamond shapes on the arms (over barely visible chiffon that has exactly the color of Rosamund’s skin) and are held together with actual diamonds. I love it, it’s wonderful despite not having made a spectacle out of it.

These shots are not great, but this is rather a lovely dress, albeit one that is in Edwardian style and is thus beginning to look out of fashion. The skirt is some silverish blue velvet that pairs nicely with the paler-colored top, all crepe-work wrapped in a V over a simple light blue base layer. Also, behold the trim. It sparkles!