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gladiatorcunt · 2 months ago

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- MOLTEN LAVA CAKE / IV.

when i get to heaven, please let me bring my man

cw: kinktober prompt (creampie), unprotected sex & playing fast and loose with it’s possible consequences, yandere behavior, age gap (reader 20’s, capitano & zhongli 50s, baizhu 40s), power imabalance, non con somno (childe), dub con, innocence kink & lowkey medical malpractice (baizhu), reader has a pussy, implied kidnapping (capitano), if you squint childe & capitano’s sections are connected, frequent breeding kink type talk, manipulation & coercion, implied baby trapping, dead dove do not eat

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

CEO!Zhongli

“Do be quiet, darling.” Zhongli grits, cupping your head with both of his palms and tugging you upwards. “I have no intentions of being an exhibitionist today.”

You arch off his grand wooden desk and gasp at the spark of pain in your neck, but you’d take that over drowning yourself in paperwork any day. Your boss’s cock is ramming into your ass at a porn star’s speed, the wet smacks of flesh slapping against flesh bounce off the one way glass walls.

This situation is the most cliché porn plot in the book though, the distant slightly emotionally unavailable boss bending his secretary over his desk and zipping down their pants. You had been running late that day, you forgot to set your alarm for Mr. Zhongli’s breakfast tea run and you had less cat food than you thought so you had to make a break for the grocery store.

By the time you scrambled in with a steaming cup of your boss’s favorite tea and his stack of reports to review and meeting requests to schedule, the older man was tapping his foot and crossing his arms. He didn’t look disappointed, not quite, but the gentle warmth in his eyes was gone and his small smile was flat.

In your desperation not to lose your job, this was your first and you’re only in your junior year of college, you follow him into his office and set down your things. Your cherry Marc Jacobs tote bag (bought by him, his papers and tea (bought by you with his money), your SINOCULTURAL orchid leather handbag (also bought by him, for variety).

Zhongli wasn’t the kind of pervy boss who’s hit on you before, you guess now that he was just lying in wait. You were the one that draped yourself over his desk with tears in your eyes, desperate and naive and relying on the principle of ‘sex sells’.

He’ll draft up a different beginning to your love story at your wedding.

“You take cock so well, perhaps we’ll have to have a discussion about adding this to your list of duties, hm?”

The condom sliding in and out of your walls makes you want to pout, but you know he has to have one. How he was able to pull a pack from his desk drawer on the spot is beyond you, you’re not quite willing to admit that you’d be so willing to keep your job you’d risk a baby and/or STDs.

“A-ah! Y-yes, sir, whenever you’re available, i-i’ll do anything.” You whisper over your shoulder and push your ass up, wanting the sight of his long cock disappearing under the thick cheeks to be as enticing as possible.

You clutch onto the golden plague bearing his esteemed name for dear life, muffling your sounds into the furniture’s lacquer, and let your boss pour all his stress into your holes. You tried to goad him into taking your ass but he gave you an amused chuckle and a firm pat to each cheek, chiding at you that he’d do it properly another time. He’s a gentleman under his silvered tongue and all his golden scales.

Zhongli seems to get fed up with the condom the closer he gets to his roaring orgasm, and all you’re able to let out in a punched squeal as he sharply pulls out and rips the condom off.

“This damn thing,” He huffs, snarling as he tosses the shredded scraps of plastic to the side, sinking back into your pussy in one go. “There, much better.”

You’re discovering that Mr. Zhongli is not the kind of man who groans unabashedly in the heat of the moment, he's prone to contented sighs and easy laughs. The closest you get to anything animalistic is the guttural grunt he lets slip as you clench around him near the end of his deep thrusts, milking him for all the cum this HR nightmare of a quickie can get you.

“One more thing before you go, be a dear and clean that up for me.” He points a black nail down at the puddle of cum expectantly, somehow having pulled his cock free with a wet flopping noise when you were too dizzy to notice, sinking back into his swiveling chair.

Sugar Daddy!Capitano

Your back hits the hotel wall, softened by Capitano’s hands coming to slide in between you and the surface.

“Mmfh- I’ve never… I’ve never done this before.” You shyly admit as your sighs fade into whimpers, the man’s stubble rubbing on your neck during his rain of kisses.

He laughs and his hot breath hits your pulse point, your heart skips a beat. “So you’ve told me. Don’t worry, you’re nothing but safe with me. I’ve already wired the initial 50,000 for our first meeting to your account, we don’t have to do anything that you are not comfortable with.”

You nod and run your fingers through his black hair, offering up more of your unmarked neck. Of course you’re comfortable, you were so nervous you could die hours earlier, but your first sugar daddy experience has turned out to be the ideal. Capitano made sure you were happy and pliant, offering ten times the amount of what most other men would just for this one dinner. What wouldn’t you be down with doing now?

He nips at your bottom lip, wrapping his burly arms around your chubby thighs and hoisting you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and giggle as you fall onto the bed of the hotel’s presidential suite. You trade sloppy and clumsy kisses for less and less articles of clothing, he places your jewelry and your accessories neatly on the nightstand.

“So you don’t prick yourself or worry about losing them, bambi.” He explains and pulls you into another syrupy kiss.

You lose yourself to fit of giggles as he reverently kisses down your body. The next hour is spent with your new sugar daddy licking your pussy, eating you out like a man would gulp down an oasis after a lifetime of being stranded in the desert. You couldn’t say how many times you flood his awaiting mouth with your juices and seed, but you’ll always remember how his Adam's Apple bobs on every swallow. As if it nourishes him, replenishes his soul from inside and out, warms like a good hearty soup.

Capitano slithers up your body to stroke a finger down your face, “Are you ready for me, honey? You’re spewing like a fountain but we can always just cuddle.”

“No, I'm ready, I want this, want you. Please, Daddy, need your cock.” And your money, but mostly your cock right now.

You settle into your position on your back and spread your legs, you grab the back of your ankles and keep them that way. Bearing yourself for the hungry gaze of a man twice your age.

“Alright, needy love, aren’t you? Here you go.” He coos, lining up his fat dick with your slick entrance and sinking in.

You almost wish you had turned the lights off. The way his massive looks hovering above yours, muscles tense and waiting to be exercised. You don’t have to look down at where his cock feeds your pussy, it’s like you can feel what every nerve and vein is doing and touching in your guts. You’re so glad the conversation about being tested was had on the sugaring app, you’re both clean and on the pill so you thought why not indulge in another first.

“Gorgeous cunt. Worth so much fucking more than 50,000. You like France, bambi? I’ll get you a castle in the countryside, this pussy would look divine getting pounded in one of their foyer’s and over their balconies.” He groans, husky and scratchy, kissing you and grinding his cock deep in your quivering pussy like you just got married.

You have to show him how to take a video of his goopy cum dripping out of your puffy folds, spreading them with your fingers and pushing it back inside.

The next morning, you wake up to a bundle of fresh roses and a calligraphy note on the pillow next to your head. You smile and take it all in, but eventually you tug on last night’s clothes and grab your bag. You grin down at your phone, feeling the butterflies play war drums in your stomach, this going somewhere good. There are times when you can just tell.

The suite door is locked, a man’s voice outside asks if you’re ready to be taken back to the boss’s home. On the way there you look through your bag, a message from your intuition, and your birth control is gone. But there are listings for several foreign properties, with a sticky note attached to the first.

‘Tell me which ones you like when you get home. I have my broker on the phone.”

Stalker!Childe

It’s a routine for him, slip in under your window, sink onto your bed and straddle your sleeping body, and fill you up with his cum until your belly bloats. You’ve never noticed, he’s good at cleaning up. And if you have, you’re docile enough to let him keep at it. Let the rabid wolf keep pawing at your door with bloody paws, leaving a carcass at your feet and doing it all over again the next day.

You know it’s just your boyfriend loving on you in private until you’re ready to go public. He understands you’re shy, a lot of the partners he’s had in the past haven’t exactly been social butterflies, but baby it’s just little ol’ Ajax! He wouldn’t hurt a fly let alone his precious significant other, don’t be silly. He has these kinds of conversations with you through hushed whispers against your ear and trembling fingers slipping under the straps of your tank top.

Ajax always preps you, save for a couple of times in the beginning because he was too excited. He prefers doing it with his tongue, but he does love a good fingerbanging session. He’d never cause any pain that wasn’t fun for the both of you, cross his heart and hope to die. He even brings a back up inhaler that he stole from your pharmacist in case you lose your current one.

He grins as he shimmies you out of your sleepwear, you never much, another sign that you’re meant to be “Shh, lovebug, I hope you’re having the sweetest dreams right now. I’m just stopping by to say hi. I have to be quicker this time, I'm real sorry, bub.”

Some as-gentle-as-possible rough fingerbanging it is.

Ajax keeps his eyes peeled so wide they burn a little as he crooks and curls his fingers in your tight pussy, marveling at your groggy whimpers that sooner than later snowball into light moans.

“You looked stunning in your outfit today, I like looser tops on you. I can see your titties bounce, swear to god. The leggings were a nice touch too, wanted to jog over during your walk and smack the shit out of it. But that’s not the meet cute you deserve, is it cutie?” He grips your face in one hand, the free one that’s not knuckles deep in pussy juice, shaking your head for ‘no’ for you.

“I promise we’re gonna meet soon, it breaks my heart to see you look so lonely, bub.” He’s not fazed when you seem like you’re waking up, he just ‘aw’s and strokes his thumb on your clit until you’ve fallen back asleep. “I can’t wait. I’ve gone over everything a million times, what I’m gonna wear, what I’m gonna say, our first date, our “first” time, I'm so ready for it all with you.”

You’re adorable, your brow is pinching and you’re tossing and turning. Your soft moans become louder and since you’re a heavy sleeper that doesn’t live in an apartment (not that he’d stop anyway, he’s seen how your next door neighbors check you out when you’re not looking), he scissors his fingers and speeds up the thrusts of his hand.

After months of this and vigorous hours at the gym, his wrist has stopped cramping entirely. He slips his free hand under his jeans and clasps it around his leaking dick, jerking himself off as he finger fucks your perfect pussy.

“Oh, there it is, honey.” Ajax gasps, tightening his grip around his painfully hard cock just as your walls tighten around his fingers. “It’s okay, keep going for me, you can do it.”

He times his strokes to the thrusts of his fingers, his breathing in sync with every rise and fall of your chest. You’re so wet, you’re leaking around his digits, your pussy making a sick squelching sound

“Oh fuck! I’m gonna cum baby, just from fingering your pretty pussy.” He pants, circling his thumb over the head of his weep dick and smearing his precum all over his length.

He’s moving so fast his hand is a blur, and he really doesn’t even register the sensation of fucking himself with his fist. Instead what he feels is the way your thighs seize up and your breath hitches, you arch your back off the bed in your sleep and that’s when he knows it’s time.

“Fuck, okay. Lemme get a little closer, lovebug, don’t want any of it to go to waste, right?” He keeps stroking his throbbing cock and blasting his fingers into your pussy, awkwardly trying to find his footing so he can get a good position.

He takes his fingers out of you and his heart squeezes in his chest when your hips buck after them and you whine.

“Here it comes, baby.” Ajax laughs at his own joke, positioning the tip of his dick right against your hole. With a shaky breath and an even shakier smile, he breaches your hole with only that part of himself, loving the way your cunt welcomes it in.

He laughs again when he floods your insides, crossing his fingers behind his back for this one to take. Don’t worry, it’s only a fantasy for now, you should at least have your first date before he knocks you up.

OBGYN!Baizhu

“Just lie back on the exam chair for me and we can begin.” Dr. Baizhu smiles warmly at you as you nervously play with your hands in the clinical room.

You nod, wanting to speak at little as possible. The chair’s paper covering crinkles and creases as you climb onto it, shuffling around before settling into a somewhat comfortable positon lying on your back. You look to Dr. Baizhu on your right, he’s available on your insurance and he has stellar reviews on any site worth trusting you could find. You’re just anxious anyway, and this is something you have to do, it won’t do you any good to get paranoid about all the things that could go wrong in a doctor’s office.

Baizhu’s eyes crinkle in the corners and he takes a seat on one of those rolling black stools. “So I take it that this is your first pelvic exam? Well, then be assured that you’re in good hands. It’s nothing scary, but I need to make sure your vulva and reproductive organs are in perfect working order.”

You laugh awkwardly and mutter back a “I know, I'm fine. Just a little tired, traffic was a nightmare.”

Your nerves already feel like they’re fading away, Dr. Baizhu’s voice is so pleasant and he has such a kind demeanor, you understand why this clinic was so eager to have him. The woman who signed you in was raving that it was his first day after leaving a major hospital, that they were so lucky and you were too.

“Now I'll have you slide down to the end of the table and put your knees in these stirrups, it’s perfectly safe and if you need to take a breather, please let me know.” He croons, allowing you the freedom and comfort to act on your own. He’d never want to make you feel panicked, as if he were forcibly restraining you.

The exams aren’t really a big deal when you’ve gotten over that hump, but Baizhu knows that first times of any variety can be scary. Especially for skittish patients such as yourself, with as much prey drive as a barn bunny being chased by a sheepdog.

You lie there and endure every probe and thoughtful hum. Your vulva is fine and Dr. Baizhu ends that part of the inspection with a quick pat to your mound, his lips twitching as if trying to resist the urge to kiss.

“Okay, now I'm just going to check out your cervix, keep still.” The man hums, smoothing a hand down your right calf from the stirrup to your knee. “You’ll feel some pressure, but nothing painful.”

“Really?” You bite your lip and eye the instruments on the little table by the sink.

Dr. Baizhu chuckles, “Of course. Some patients do experience pain, but it’s not a definite thing, everybody’s different. At most, you’ll feel a tad uncomfortable and exposed.”

So you brace yourself and expect to feel the cold metal of what looks like some kind of forceps. Instead you look down to see your doctor unbuttoning his pants.

He catches your eye and waves off your concern, “Cold metal just seems so abrasive for your first time. You might do better with a more… human approach, something to test how well you can stretch. Don’t worry, I'll put protection on, I'd be a horrible doctor if I didn't.”

Sure enough he slides a latex condom on, covered in tiny holes but you brush it off as being a part of the design. Baizhu’s cock twitches, feeling a sick thrill at how easy you are, at how he can whip his dick out and you’ll believe it’s in your best interest.

He doesn’t release you from the stirrups, and they rattle as he plunges inside inch by inch. Slowly and mind numbingly, to properly gauge your cunt’s ability to expand around the intrusion. You gape up at him, feeling far more than just a tad uncomfortable and exposed. His lips twitch again, torn between maintaining the facade and stuffing your cervix with his cock or breaking character and dipping down to kiss your adorably parted lips.

“I’d give you a piece of candy if that wouldn’t embarrass you. You’re doing great, just relax and the pressure will ease up.”

“Ngh- hah- O-okay, doctor. Thank you for helping me.” You don’t know why you say it, who thanks their doctors for doing a basic exam? But he groans and his hips rush forward all the same.

Your cunt is impossibly tight, which is to be expected but it’s not any less delightful to experience.

The paper underneath you makes you want to claw your eyes out as his thrusts force your back to slide back and forth on it. That, the stirrup straps clacking, and your shared soft pants are the only sounds in the locked room. It’s not as anxiety inducing as you’d expect, the planets in the office orbit around the doctor and as long as they think he’s in an appointment (and isn’t he?) they won’t interrupt. His eyes crease, he promises to give you a home visit when you’re done here, just to be thorough and make good on that promise of candy.

Something sweet for the embodiment of the cavities is in his soul, cunny strangles him tighter than a noose.

Dr. Baizhu shudders as you reflexively clench around his pulsing cock and attempt to kick out your legs only to be held back by the stirrups, “Don’t mind the mess, ‘s all par for the c-course, my dear.”

You squirt on his next thrust, and your tangy juices drip down onto the cold gray floor. The gooey cum that escapes the holes in the condom follow suit and form a little pool. Dr. Baizhu takes several pictures of your seed heavy pussy with his flip phone for medical reference.

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samfurniture88 · 2 years ago

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Buy SamDecors Solid Wood Shoe Rack with Four Compartments. It can be used as a filing cabinet. It can also be used as a bookshelf in your study or as a shoe rack at the entrance of homes or offices.

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hometoursandotherstuff · 5 months ago

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This Queen Anne Victorian in Columbus, WI is, if you ask me, a bargain at $635K. It has 5bds, 3ba, and you must see the interior.

It's a very large house, but have you ever seen an entrance like this with 2 separate stairs? Isn't this stunning?

There's so much architectural detail and this fireplace is magnificent.

The brick fireplace in this sitting is unusual. Normally, I would expect to see it in a home of a different era.

Even though it's a bit darkish, I don't mind the wallpaper. It's what would've been in this home back in the day.

It's furnished with the dark antiques of the era that are museum quality. The draperies the rooms a kind of heavy look.

I have to say that the antiques are magnificent, though.

The dining room has beautiful wainscoting. Everything in this home is original and the coffered ceiling is also pretty.

The enclosed front porch entrance is so lovely. Can you imagine this as a conservatory full of plants?

This cute little room would make a nice home office.

Looks like they started working on the walls in here. Original light fixture and lovely fireplace.

What a great bath. Look at this. It's so pretty and vintage.

Oh, my. I'm in love with the kitchen. It's so big, and check out the stove. This is an original kitchen. I wonder if the big counter on the right will convey.

This is so elegant. I have to say that this home is special.

Wow, it's like a museum. I like how the fireplace is next to the bed. On cold nights, it kept them toastier.

Wow, look at the twin beds. This room is very large, but I can't help looking at the antiques.

This is truly a beautiful home and here's a bonus- it has central air conditioning. On some real estate sites it's been removed from the market b/c it's been for sale for over 235 days. So, it's time to give it a rest, I guess. Maybe if they modernize it, paint all the wood black, and the walls gray, remove all the antiques and let the agent Photoshop modern furniture in, it'll sell. Oh, Lord, I hope not.

https://www.fultongrace.com/home-details/2622771/902-park-avenue-columbus-53925-wi/

#queen victorian #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour

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the-labyrinth-of-me · 1 month ago

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I don't know if that has been discussed in the past, but I wanna talk about a few things that stand out in the apartment of the Wakes, at least for me. First off, it's absolutely weird that the apartment looks nothing like the one from the first game, neither interior nor floor plan wise. Before Alan was trapped in the Dark Place, the apartment looked drastically different. Photos for comparison:

Seems like a regular home of a best-selling crime novelist, right?

The apartment in Alan Wake 2 has, as already mentioned, a different floor plan and weird structure. Like you leave the elevator and there aren't even any further doors, let alone a hallway. As if the Wake apartment was the only one on the whole floor. Then there's the entrance area with the cameras from Alice that set off once Alan leaves the elevator, with a few paintings on the wall (like graffiti) that seem to have replaced the skyline posters.

Then you enter the actual apartment. It holds a layout that doesn't make much sense. There's also no bathroom / toilet and Alice's studio seems to be missing. Some other paintings of graffiti on the wall mix with really old, outdated, simple furniture. Nothing that displays wealth for the cozy feeling of a real home, it's rather minimalist.

If only the furniture would be outdated, though...

A collection of old files, devices (seriously, who has a telephone like that in the 2010 and upwards years?), and old toys. Since the Wakes don't have children and there wasn't any mention that they, at any point, planned to start a family, one can assume these toys weren't bought for children to be born and they seem to be well-used as well. Maybe Alan's toys from his childhood?

The books all seem to be really old as well.

All that old stuff and the composition, how things are placed and displayed, rather give me the feeling I'm walking through a museum rather than an apartment.

(wtf why is there even an accordion??)

And if we take a closer look at the kitchen...

... we see a weird oven and coffee machine. Stuff we'd expect to find in restaurant, maybe. Or a diner. A very specific diner.

Moving on, what catches the attention in the living room isn't only the lack of a television (although the Wakes had one in the first game), despite the TVs can be found practically everywhere in the Dark Place in the most odd spaces. But not in an actual apartment, of all things? Hmmmm. As if someone deliberately choose not to have one. Maybe the one who is imagining that whole stuff?

Which would be my conclusion to the weirdness of the apartment: dream logic mixed with whatever is left of the apartment in Alan's memory mixed with what is necessary for him to move on. TVs is what he might be kind of scared of, since often he sees another version of himself speaking insane rants. Nothing he could use that close to escape. The old furniture and books and toys could really stem from his longterm memory, his childhood home blended in with his actual one, from his subconscious. His mother seems to have a key role because she was the one who gave him the Clicker. And he never got to know his father. There definitely is some pain in his childhood years. Maybe he has a box somewhere in which he keeps some of his toys?

In dreams our brain processes what we experience throughout the day, sometimes memories mix in, or things we suppress / are in denial about bc we're too afraid to confront them. That could be one explanation of the interior of the apartment. His childhood even gets a small section in the musical since we walk through his old bedroom. So, early memories are covered. Brings us the next subject - striking what isn't necessary to move to. Alice's studio apparently isn't necessary (and something he doesn't have a connection to. Makes even more sense considering her work didn't contribute much to their income, as she says in the video. So her office might be kind of invisible to him. His work being the "more important" one.) Bathroom? Not necessary. Interior replaced with old stuff bc its more important to him, maybe? But what about the industrial oven and coffee machine? That really seems to be a nod to the Oh Deer diner, where his journey (and demise) practically started. Where he got the keys for the Bird Leg Cabin and met the Dark Presence for the first time. It seemed to have left a mark. Rose, the superfan waitress who helps him from the real world. Rusty, the first major Taken he had to fight (iirc Stucky came after Rusty). The Old Gods and their stupid jukebox. I'm not gonna link Coconut here don't worry. There's also a pack of the Bright Falls Blend coffee on a shelf.

Summarized, we can say that dream logic blends all kinds of things together whenever Alan visits the apartment in the Dark Place. Not to mention that it even looks different each time he goes there, during each draft. If I find the time I'll try to draw floor plans of each version. I think it's very interesting.

If you made it this far, thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

Edit for additions / stuff from tags (holy shit is this a long post now)

- @taniushka12 yes you're right of course, the bathroom appears later however and not during the first draft. It seems Alan readjusts the apartment due to what he needs to go further, or Alice had a say about this. Idk. The bathroom appears in the next draft I think, with the expedition. He remembers they have a bathrooms yay! But it still looks completely different.

- @omena-perkele thanks for elaborating on that. I was planning to go into more detail about Alan progressively forgetting how his home looks like but only put it in half a sentence lol. It's my interpretation of how empty the apartment actually is, like not much personal belongings, if any. Bedroom is almost empty. There are pieces of furniture he remembers or remembers there should be some at certain walls in the rooms, but many empty spots. The rest is mixed with old stuff and dream logic / dark place fill-ins.

Thanks for each comment on this!

#alan wake 2 #Alan wake 2 meta #Alan wake #Alan wake meta #alan wake remastered #remedy entertainment #I just love stuff like that. Hope you enjoyed it!

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wraithdance · 2 months ago

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The Five Year Plan | Gaz x Reader

Note: F!Reader, Readers nickname is 'Siggy', there will be no y/n use

Content warning: terrible grasp of british-isms, mention of sick parent (cancer), rich mom trope hehe, no Kyle in this one, but!! we are finally at the precipice of the shenanigans and he will be in every chapter here on! extra long as I am begging for forgiveness :')

Chapter Four (2/2): There's a Conspiracy Afoot

An hour before noon finds you outside of Aimee Montclair’s office shifting your weight from side to side.

Your knees crack a little still from the strain you put on them earlier in the morning. Truthfully, you’d love nothing more than to scuttle away to safety, but Estelle has already threatened to take back her gift to you for your upcoming birthday should your cowardice win out.

If she hadn’t dropped unsubtle hints of there being a slight chance she’d purchased something off your ‘sell your kidney for’ wish-list, you wouldn’t bother.

(The wench knew you hated sensible gifts with a vehemence. No one liked socks or toasters upon becoming a year closer to death, no matter what they say.)

Still, you really hated coming to see Aimee. More than you hated squirrels or little inconveniences like getting crumbs in intimate crevices or staining your brand new white shirt.

(You are unfortunately prone to both.)

The chiffon blouse you wore to work today is no match for the lobby’s frigid temperatures of the top floor space. You’d been standing around for the better part of fifteen minutes just staring at the abstract photos and pristine gray decor, finding yourself slowly slipping into melancholy.

Who would purposely design such a large space to be so depressing?

You’d been thinking to yourself that you were right to change your furniture out, angry doorman be damned. Nothing good came out of monochrome.

Aimee's assistant clicks away at his keyboard, occasionally cutting his eyes at you from behind circular frames that are too small for his angular face. The wire spectacles cut into the bridge of his nose, deepening the lines already present from his scowl.

“You may have a seat, she’ll let me know when she’s ready for you.” The reedy voiced man says drolly.

When you startle at his sudden speech he waves his free hand towards the uninviting bench by Aimee’s office doors. His tone makes you feel like a pest, and there’s nothing more that you hate than feeling like a huge inconvenience for just existing.

When he huffs for the umpteenth time your eye twitches.

In another setting you’d say something vitriolic about his nasty tone, but you do somewhat fear the wrath of your employer. So, you instead shuffle quietly to the pointed out bench with clenched fists at your side.

Several more silent minutes go by when you can’t stand the quiet a second longer, lest you run screaming from the building. Plastering on a smile you shift on the hard chaise, that even the cushion of your ass is no match for, to bend forward and catch the eye of the assistant.

“Has she said anything yet?” you ask hopefully.

He rolls his eyes and gives you a noncommittal answer that mostly sounds like a negative. Unperturbed, you try at least to make conversation.

“Has anyone ever told you, you look like a British Stanley Tucci?”

Aimee’s assistant stops fiddling with his phone to openly glare at you. “What?”

You try to smile wider hoping to disarm him but he glares deep enough for wrinkles to appear on his shiny bald head. Oh dear, he was much too young for that to be happening, maybe you should recommend your dermatologist's number…

“I asked if anyone told you that you look like a British Stanley Tu-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. “Aimee is ready for you now.”

You blink rapidly in confusion. “You just said she wasn’t available yet. Like literally less than 30 seconds ago, you didn’t even check anything, I saw you!”

Aimee’s assistant shrugs and tells you that you can go in before ignoring you for his desktop monitor. You can’t help the sneer that overtakes your face or the audible suck of your teeth.

You had just been lying to be polite!

There was no way Stanley Tucci could ever be compared to such a rude, sniveling little man in an awful tweed vest! With an angry pep to your step you utter out a snide thank you and swing open Aimee’s door with a little more force than necessary.

Aimee looks up from her calendar with pursed lips that freezes you in your steps.

You stare at each other for several moments before Aimee’s thin brow quirks. She sets aside her pen and glasses to lean back in her seat, motioning you closer.

“Close the door and have a seat, please.”

Hesitantly, you do as she asks and inch to the proffered seat, perching as demurely on the edge as you can manage. One never knew when they needed to make a run for it and all. You smile as brightly as you can waiting for her to speak.

Aimee watches you with shrewd eyes and sighs. “I heard from my son regarding your choice to end the engagement.”

Your smile drops immediately and your face contorts into a scowl against your will. Leave it to Hugo Montclair to be such a bloody coward to cheat then lie to his mommy!

“What do you mean by my choice?!” you squawk indignantly.

You’re unable to stop yourself from opening your mouth to say awful things about her pride and joy, but Aimee lifts a hand up to stop you. Your jaw closes with an audible click but you’re sure steam is visibly coming out of your ears.

Forget the doorman or Kyle, your ex fiance would be receiving the punch in the face he deserved, witnesses be damned! (Blue knew the procedures should you end up on the wrong side of the law after all.)

Despite the dark energy you’re channeling, Aimee continues on.

“I’m aware of my son’s… dalliance with the Sinclair girl and I plan to have a discussion with his father to address it.”

“Oh?” Primly you sniff and roll your shoulder’s back as you attempt to hide your smirk.

The Montclair patriarch was a point of contention for Hugo, as his father was immeasurably scarier than his wife and far less doting of Hugo’s… laissez faire lifestyle. You wish you could be a fly on the wall when he learns of his son’s indiscretions, it would probably lead to the elder Frenchman's notorious temper.

You’d been subjected to more than one ruined dinner party eating hor d'oeuvres and watching chaos reign down as the graying man shouted down the rooftops and threw furniture out of dissatisfaction.

You’re snickering under your breath evilly, it’s what the posh little cretin deserved! When Aimee frowns you plaster back on a smile.

“Thank you, Aimee. I was truly heartbroken about Hugo’s decision. It means a lot to me that you’ll speak to him about the harm he caused, truly.” placing a hand over your heart you give her your best doe eyed look.

(it’s one you’d practiced in the mirror a few times to get the cafeteria lady who had a crush on you to give you an extra portion whenever you stopped by to see mum.)

Aimee leans farther back into her chair and taps her finger against the armrest, studying the hand you clasp over your bosom in thought.

“Good, I want you to continue the engagement.”

A record scratches in your mind because surely you’ve misheard. You cock your head in her direction, clasping your hand behind your ear and squint. “Hm, I’m sorry ma’am, what was that?”

Aimee sighs and stands, circling around the ornate desk. You scramble as much as your weight back against the armchair when she stops to lean on her desk in front of you. She clasps her hands in front of her, the tennis bracelet worth more than your flat glints in the natural light.

“I encouraged you to pursue my son for a reason.” She gives you a knowing look that shuts you up before you could mention you had not pursued her son in the least.

Hugo had just been aggressively thrusted onto you at every company party or assignment until you gave in. You hadn’t even been proposed to! Hugo had just shown up to work with an engagement ring the size of your forehead after a year.

You’d been quietly reeling from shock (and some horror) as his mother watched on while he slid the shiny rock over your knuckles. You’d barely gotten your wits about you before she was asking for updates on your latest case.

“I need someone who can keep my son in line and not run this firm into the ground when I step down. Despite your shortcomings and background, I still believe you are the best person for the job.” She waits for your uncontrollable range of expressions to settle before gesturing for you to speak your mind.

“Sorry ma’am, uh a few teensy little questions; Are you saying you plan on me taking over when you leave? Actually, what exactly do you mean despite my shortcomings and background? And honestly it’s probably more important, but did Hugo not tell you that Maddie is pregnant?”

You’re aware you sound a bit belligerent near the end and you know it’s a bit unbecoming but, seriously?

Aimee’s expressions darkens in a way that makes your throat constrict. The older woman’s scowl could rival your mother’s. If she looked down her nose a bit more and started insulting your wardrobe in a thick accent you might curl up into a ball and cry.

“I’m very aware of the girl’s unfortunate condition, I plan to see to it that it’s dealt with. As for your other questions, you've worked for me for the last what? Four years, yes?”

You nod cautiously, still rolling around her comment ‘of dealing with Maddie’s condition.’ You’re concerned and in the midst of questioning her further when she lifts a hand once more with a sharp look.

“Siggy, I am aware you lied on your CV when you interviewed with us. About your attendance at Cambridge.”

A glacial chill dances down your spine like a cold knife, serrated and quick. You're straightening in the chair quickly and putting on your best poker face. “Respectfully ma’am, I don’t know what you’re talking about, I didn’t lie about attending Cambridge.”

Aimee chuckles, giving you a pitying look that says ‘silly girl.’ Frankly, it makes you a bit murderous.

“I never said that you didn’t attend, I know you did. I spoke to several of your professors before I hired you.” she waves her hand in the air “A Mr. Anyadike had nothing but excellent things to say about you.”

Your jaw clenches tight enough you can feel your molars squeak.

“Yes, he was my ethics and public law professor.” you grind your teeth, “ I’m sorry, he wasn’t on my references, is it usual to personally speak to all of your employees' educators or was that something you just did for me?”

She spears you with an unimpressed look, but you don’t back down, holding your own against her crystalline gaze. Eventually, Aimee sighs deeply, looking off to the floor to ceiling windows catty-corner from where you’re seated.

“I was impressed by your academic resume. Despite growing up in one of the worst council houses in Peckham, you still managed to make quite the name for yourself. I pulled some favors with a colleague and I sat in on a few of your mock trials. I knew you’d be a damn good lawyer with the right tools.” she pauses to look at you, you suppose expecting to see you preening at the compliment.

Maybe if several things about her statement hadn’t made you sick to your stomach, you would have the mind to perk up like a bloody peacock.

You were not ashamed of where you'd grown up, but you’d taken painstaking measures to avoid the added prejudices of being from the ‘wrong’ neighborhood while in Uni. Your parents' split had devastated the already limited finances and for a while your mothers family had refused to provide any support.

It’s why the decision to relocate you and your mother to housing she could maintain on her humble nursing budget was made, while your father went back to America to find guaranteed work.

You’d gone as far as to adopt the accent and speech habits of your upper echelon uni peers, so far from the lilt that gave away your first generation and South London origins. It helped with some of the ostracization in your undergrad and continued to determine the treatment you experienced in and out of court.

But how the hell could Aimee know about any of that?

As if hearing your spiraling thoughts Aimee continues, pacing slowly. “When you interviewed with us you said you’d completed your studies at Cambridge, but that wasn’t exactly true was it?” The question is rhetorical and she doesn’t wait for your reply.

“You took a leave of absence when your mother was diagnosed with cancer. Didn’t complete the degree until months after you started with us.”

She gives you a look, daring you to lie.

Your breathing is stuttered as you try to think straight, chest heaving in mounting panic and palms sweating. She was right. You had frantically taken the final courses needed for your degree well into your employment.

At the time, you’d thought it was a blessing how flexible the hours were for the position. You were ecstatic that you would be able to finish the stupid Master of Law programme online. You’d taken the train back and forth from London for your final mock trials, using the time to study and work on litigation notes.

Aimee’s smug expression tells you she knew that already.

“If you were aware that I didn’t finish the course, why did you hire me?” you ask finally, with a shaky breath. Aimee scoffs.

“Because you desperately needed the income to support the procedures not covered in your mother’s NHS treatment and I needed a protege willing to do whatever it took to win.” She says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Like, you were ridiculous to feel blindsided by the fact the career you cried and wrote increasingly desperate manifestations for, happened because you were a means to an end willing to play dirty.

Aimee, the viper she’d shown herself to be, does not seem to care for your emotional spiral though, not in the least bit.

“You’re a slacker, Siggy and needlessly dramatic. But you’re a brilliant lawyer and if you spend the time you use to shirk your duties on important things, you can go far. So yes, to answer your first question, I am thinking of your future here and I’d like it if I could continue to do so. ” Aimee says, pushing the knife in deeper.

For once in your life you're silent.

You realize you’re stuck in place, ripping into the sides of the chair with the sharp tips of your stiletto manicure as the reality of the situation slams into you like heavy pillars. You’d thought you were covering your arse, but that was obviously not the case. You’re scared to know just how much Aimee knew about you and just how she gained the information.

Somehow through it all you can’t help but think this was all fucking Hugo’s fault.

While you sit stunned there’s a knock on Aimee’s door. She voices out a blase call to enter. Her assistant pops his head in letting her know her next appointment was waiting. Aimee nods and turns to you considering your stone form. She pats the fleshy upper portion of your arm and makes her way back behind her desk.

“You may leave.” she looks up, “Think about what I said, Hugo and the girl should not be an issue for much longer and I can guarantee continuing the engagement will be worth your while.”

You don’t reply, instead rising on wobbling legs. Numbly you shuffle to the door, barely cognizant of your surroundings, much less focused on the irritating look on Aimee’s assistant's face. Aimee calls your name and you turn.

“Keep what we talked about under wraps, will you? I expect to hear an answer from you soon.”

Her lithe form standing like a sentry behind her desk in her white pantsuit is the last thing you see before the door is closed in your face.

Le Misa’s is far less crowded than you expected it to be on a sunny afternoon.

If you weren’t still reeling from your conversation with Aimee you think you’d be a little more concerned. You’re absently stirring the straw in your water cup waiting for Estelle to arrive after her meeting.

Your eye had twitched earlier reading the odd text Vi sent you, vaguely stating she couldn’t make yet another hen session. You were a bit worried about her so you make a mental note to check in later.

Under your lashes you observe the woman across the table from you. Blue had arrived promptly at the time you’d discussed and had been peeved per usual at your tardiness (which really could exactly three minutes late count towards tardiness?)

She’d grumbled about having time to grade papers that you teased her for. Blue had still been incensed and taken up scrolling on her phone, ignoring you petulantly.

With a sigh you try your best to capture her attention. “Blue dear, am I dramatic?”

She doesn’t look up. “Yes.”

Your mouth twists into a firm line unamused by the quick response from the younger south asian woman.

“Rude! Why are you saying yes so quickly?”

Blue’s eyes meet yours across your usual table at Le Misa’s. She takes one long look at you and snorts before continuing to tap her straw against her water glass like a drum. You kick her under the table which earns you a dark scowl. You return it with one of your own, using your best friends forever telepathy to threaten her if she refused to answer you.

Blue rolls her eyes.

“I said yes because you are dramatic, my beautifully dramatic friend.”

The gasp of offense you let out is on the theatrical side. Blue still seems perfectly content to ignore you though, continuing to tap away as if she were performing one handed.

You kiss your teeth. What a rude little thing!

Lying in wait you snatch her impromptu drum stick with lightning quick reflexes. When she moves to take it back you twist to the side to keep it out of reach, close to your bosom. Blue looks considerate like she may very well attempt to wrestle you for it before she seems to change her mind.

She mumbles something about needing to burn her hands if she accidentally copped a feel that makes you frown.

“What kind of friend are you, you were supposed to say no! Take it back.”

The criminally well dressed woman flaps her hands your way perusing whatever thing has her attention on her phone. “Well I didn’t and I don’t think you’re allowed to force my hand like that to change my mind.”

You stick your tongue at her childishly and she returns the gesture with equal amounts of flare.

“Take it back, there’s no way I’m dramatic!”

Blue sighs and uncrosses her legs to shift her form towards you. With softened eyes she reaches across the table to grasp your hands in hers. Then pinches the backs of them hard enough to make you yelp aloud, the sound garners the attention of the tables around you.

“Siggy, my love I’ve known you since I was five. You are so needlessly dramatic and always have been. Do you not remember that time you asked me to give you your last rites because you thought you were dying of cholera?”

Still rubbing the flesh of your aching hands you hiss at her. “Yes you ninny! Because you didn’t tell me Micah Elliot's disgusting dog drank out of my fizzy drink when I wasn’t looking!”

Blue looks like she wants to argue but shrugs her shoulders as if to say ‘touche’.

“Fine, I’ll give you that, but you are still dramatic! I mean you’re hellbent on having a child because your mother wants one from you. If that’s not dramatic, I don't know what is.”

“Blue,” you start carefully, “I’m going to stab you with this fork, I said that out of a moment of frustration why would you bring that up!”

Blue gives you a look down her nose that you loathe because she’s not even wearing glasses so the effect isn’t the same, it’s just judgmental!

“Oh, don’t look at me like that you traitor, you’re being very cruel in my time of need.”

“Says the dramatic.” Blue mumbles under her breath.

You are about to boo the sister of your heart, (or commit a petty act of retaliation) when Estelle shows up harried and knocking into things with her gargantuan tote.

You wait for the chronically ultra late girl (and whatever body she carts around in her bag) to settle and give Blue a cheery greeting before asking her the same question.

“Stells,” you start with a saccharine smile, “am I dramatic?”

“Am I French?” She says dryly in return. Blue outright bursts into chuckles that she tries to cover with her hand.

You frown in confusion, “What? Yes you’re French what does-“

Estelle pretends to be preoccupied with the menu avoiding your eyes. It clicks only seconds after.

“Estelle! Don’t be rude, you know I’m terrible at discerning sarcasm!”

Much like Blue, Estelle gives you a shrug in return and instead preoccupies herself with picking imperceptible lint off her blouse.

You clear your throat loudly, forcing the attention of your traitorous friends back on you with irritation.

“If I were to die you both would be very sorry for being cruel to me, you know.”

Your heartless friends groan in unison that starts you all bickering. Having enough of the teasing from the clucking hens you call your friends, you rap the table quickly to interrupt. You get accusations of being a rude harlot but at least they take the hint and quiet down some.

“Enough, let’s get this show on the road. I need to tell you what happened with Hugo. I swear the universe has it out for me!”

Blue huffs and quirks her mouth in disgust in the familiar way that's always made you a bit envious, you’ve yet to master the gesture, only managing to look like you were having a stroke.

“You mean the chihuahua?” Blue scoffs, “I’m dying to hear more about this farce of a wedding you insist on putting on. Have you even tried to get out of this like you said you would?”

You give her your best deadpan expression, whilst Estelle looks off like she’s thinking of floating away into the clouds to avoid the impeding argument.

“You haven’t been listening to the messages I sent in the group-chat have you?”

Blue doesn’t look even a little contrite. “Of course not, Siggy. You send multiple texts a day when I'm with students. I figured you’d tell me the next time you came over. What?”

Blue looks at the face you make and Estelle’s sinking into her chair.

“Hugo and I are not together any longer,” you drawl out flatly “and I think his mother just threatened my career to be honest.”

That gets a jolt of shock out of both ladies and normally you would feel like a queen holding court as you presented the shocking escapades of your life over tea.

But instead as you detail what was the last four days of your life and the questionable meeting from this morning you feel a bit ill.

Blue had threatened to slap Maddie for you which you thought was very kind considering she was such a goodie two shoes, but she'd gone quiet when you told her of Maddie's pregnancy.

Then quieter when you'd recapped the visit with your mother and Aimee's revelation. Estelle is the first to break her silence when you’ve finally finished recapping the entire bloody scenario.

“Babe, are you serious? Did she really say she’d fire you if you didn’t get back on with Hugo?”

Your snort is unladylike and whip quick, “She of course didn’t outright say it but she might as well have slapped down a marriage certificate for me to sign in her office. She told me not to say a single word but you know…”

“You’re terrible with secrets.” Estelle nods in understanding.

You scowl at her because yes, but that wasn’t what you were going to say. Blue understands what you mean to say and sits back in her chair with crossed arms and eyes closed nearly in slits.

“It’s against your nature to be bullied or quiet about unfairness. What do you plan to do?”

The air goes out of you as you sigh and glance around. You really needed a sweet before you even thought about considering your very limited options. Showing how well she knows you, Blue hums and stands from the table.

“I’m going to pop into the inside to see if we can get some service.”

Estelle blinks and looks around the space, before checking her watch with a furrowed brow. “You know what, it’s odd, they're usually on top of things whenever we pop by. We’ve been sitting here for at least twenty minutes.”

That gets your own lips pursed. It was actually very, very odd.

You take another look at the outdoor dining area and notice that there really was an unusually small amount of patrons for a day like today. The flowers within the trellis separating the outdoor seating from the street look limp and the complimentary pot of tea had been lukewarm when you received it earlier.

You hadn’t realized when you sat down but the cute swan shaped napkin that normally sat in the middle of your saucer was not present. It was easily the one feature of Le Misa’s that had given you constant entertainment over the many years, yet?

The napkin was just… flat. Not even stark white per the norm.

Estelle and Blue seem to take note of the same as you and wear similar expressions of concern. Blue excuses herself to go inside, skirting past empty tables and chairs.

Estelle hums and reaches for her menu. “Siggy, have you figured out what you want to do for your birthday?”

The groan you let out requires you to throw your head back to the sky and stamp your feet under the table in order to fully articulate the actual frustration you have. Estelle of course pays you no mind besides laughing at your distress.

“No, I haven’t thought any more about it. Hugo, curses to his name may he be plagued by locusts and what now, promised me tickets to a lounge show or a trip but we see how that’s gone.”

Estelle reaches over and squeezes your hand in support. “Don’t worry if you can’t think of anything we can always move up our annual hen night.”

That’s honestly what you were afraid of. You didn’t want to spend the day where you officially failed the checklist for your life by daring to grow older than the age deadline set since, to get uncomfortably sloshed. You knew yourself well enough to know a public crying fit would be inevitable. So giving Estelle a tight smile you are planning to frantically come up with some plans in the next three weeks before your birthday, that are hopefully not nearly as sad.

You’re about to thank her for her offer when Estelle’s surprised curse fills the air.

“What Stells, what is it? Did you forget to blink again? I think I have eye drops in my purse, one second.” Estelle shoots you a venomous look and swats at your hand when you reach for your bag.

“No, that only happened one time!” she spits out a command for you to ‘laisse tomber’ when you go to remind her that it was at least three times. (Usually when she was ogling some future romantic prey she’s planning to sink her teeth into.)

Estelle shoves her menu into your face, “Look at the menu you absolute broomstick. They’ve crossed out the crepes!”

Your eyes cross a bit trying to see what she shows you, eventually you shove the laminated sheet away from you and pick up your own menu and squint.

You’re trailing your eyes across the brunch options to see that Estelle is right, the crepes and several other options are now crossed off. You’re flipping the menu to the back for the desserts to confirm the worst.

“Estelle darling, I think I’m going to scream they-”

“They’ve discontinued the lavender cakes.” Blue appears to stand behind her chair with the disposition of a doctor with terrible news. Or the Grim Reaper.

“What?!” Your gasp of horror sucks out all of the breath available in your lung capacity. When you choke on your breath Estelle has to pat your back.

“Careful Siggy, you know you’re not good at breathing and talking.” Blue snarks pettily, earning a glare from you and a muffled laugh from Estelle.

“Lucky you, I’m too preoccupied to dignify that with a response, you terror. Take a look at your menu, not only have half the cakes gone missing, so have at least a majority of the specials! It’s just like I said, someone in the universe wants me dead!”

Blue frowns too caught up in her own confusion to tell you not to be facetious. “We’ve been coming here since we were in secondary, the menu hasn’t changed once. Plus, I asked and we now have to go in for service because they’re short staffed apparently.”

Estelle tuts uninterestedly, “To be honest I didn’t really like the cakes very much and I guess it’s fine about the crepes, I’m always here for the bread-” Estelle cuts herself off when she squints at the menu once more.

It’s not long before she’s cursing and flapping the menu in the air as if it were the throat of the culprit responsible.

You cross your arms across your chest and narrow your eyes in thought.

“Exactly my French friend, there is a conspiracy afoot and we need to get to the bottom of it.”

*laisse tomber - drop it/leave it alone

A/N: I have no excuse for the tardiness, the brain just was not braining sorry lmao. nonetheless next chapter we are finally in the thick of it. I'm so excited to hear the yelling and see the pitchforks! remember to feed your local pterodactyl by sharing your thoughts and reblogging on the reblog website!

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#kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x black reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #the five year plan #baby face #idk I'll tag other stuff later lmao

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mendeshoney · 2 months ago

Text

this close isn't close enough

a/n: happy thirsty thurday fellow harlots ^_^

this is a small little part 3 ish/sequel to take me back to eden (you can find part one here and part two here) that just popped into my head and i figured i'd jot it down for you all to enjoy. it does discuss wanting and trying for a child, so if that's not something you're comfortable with, this may not be for you, so read with caution. this is for @pyotrkochetkov and @smileysvech because without them this fictional andrei wouldn't exist! title is from "melt" by kehlani

warnings/tags: nine year age gap, older man x younger woman, slice of married life, baby fever, fluff, lots of smut, shower sex, hotel sex (semi-public, against the window), oral sex, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation

word count: 12,163

“Almaznyy?” Andrei calls out, removing his reading glasses with one hand as he shuts his laptop with the other, then rubs the bridge of his nose.

He counts to ten in his head, waiting for your response, but it doesn’t come. The soft and familiar whrrrrr of a machine echoes back at him instead, and he sighs, a small smile stretching across his face as he gets up from his desk to wander down the hall.

When he makes it down the hall and to the threshold that leads to you, he's not surprised in the slightest to find you at your pottery wheel. Your back is to him as you sit on your stool, headphones on as your body lightly moves along to the music playing, hands firm and shaping the clay in front of you into what he knows is the makings of a teapot.

Beside you, on the work table, Andrei sees two mugs newly finished with their handles attached, two finished matching saucer plates that need to be painted with glaze and fired, and two little spoons, already fired and glazed, probably newly taken out of the kiln. Beyond that, he also spots two jars - one for honey and one for sugar cubes, you had told him - and three brand new jars of glaze.

He takes a second to himself to just silently admire you, his beautiful wife of nearly two years, and lets his heart beat wild and content in his chest.

Andrei had converted one of his guest rooms into your own little art studio not long after you moved in with him, and by converted, he means he took out all the furniture, stripped the carpet, and let you decorate and furnish it how you saw fit.

He tried his best to learn as much as he could about what kinds of art you liked creating, the tools you used, but in truth, a lot of it was lost on him, and you had more mediums of art you were interested in than you cared to admit. Andrei had ended up giving you his card instead, telling you to buy whatever it was you needed or wanted, so that the space became exactly what you had always dreamed of.

You had been meticulous about it, too, and Andrei adored every second of watching you design the space back then. The flooring was first - you insisted on water and stain proof vinyl floors - followed by shelves, storage drawers, a small desk, your massive work table, and other organizing things. Then, once you had a place and space for everything, you bought canvases, a pottery wheel, clay, easels, paints, a sketchbook, pencils, pens, markers, and more.

You’d bought a kiln, too, which had its own place in a little shed he bought and had built for you outside. Since you'd gotten back into pottery and started making pieces, you'd been able to sell some to a few of the wives, girlfriends, and partners of players on the team, as well as some of Andrei's co-workers in the Canes' front office. You had even put a few up of your paintings and drawings you'd done on your larger canvases in their charity auctions over the last couple of years, which had given you a significant amount of your own money.

Andrei encouraged you to go legit and open up a shop, which was an idea you'd been slowly getting used to. You'd set up a website so far, and had sold your first collection a couple of months ago - planters and vases and hanging planters and such - which had done extremely well, but you insisted you wanted to still be able to find fun in doing it again instead of allowing it to feel like an obligation.

To help with that as of late, had been your project of a tea set for his mom's birthday, which was still months away. You'd been using the kiln a lot more because of it, for test pieces as well as the actual pieces themselves, so more often than not lately, your art studio is where he found you.

"If you call for me and I don't respond to you in ten seconds," you'd told him when you first started on the set, "I'm either in here, or at the kiln out back."

Quietly, he observes as you shape the lump of clay in the center of your wheel into a sphere, then, unhappy with the roundness, you carefully squeeze at it until it's back into another lump, before shaping it out once more. The rise of your shoulders before they tense as you start to create a hole in the middle of the clay, and the fall of them again when you start to pinch at the walls until it forms into the exact shape you want.

Only when you stop the wheel and dip your hands into the bowl of water beside you to get rid of the excess clay does Andrei approach, carefully placing his hands on your shoulders to give you a gentle squeeze.

You tilt your head back, bumping it into his abdomen gently as you gaze up at him with his favorite dazzling smile. He carefully removes your headphones, putting it on the work table and smoothing your hair down.

"Hi baby," he murmurs, bending down to press a kiss to your forehead, the tip of your nose, and then to your lips.

You hum softly before sitting up, turning yourself around on the stool to face him. "Hi handsome," you return, grabbing a towel from the work table and wiping your hands before settling them on his waist, fingers playing with the belt loops of his jeans. "Did you call for me a lot?"

"Just once," he says, unable to resist bending down to kiss you again.

He loves looking at you like this, soft in the mid morning light, a blissful smile on your face with dots of clay and glaze over your cheeks and on the little apron you have covering your clothes. He loves how he can smell the vanilla of your body wash among the earthen scents in the art studio, and how it makes him feel like he's completely at peace.

Andrei loves you. His almaznyy. His beautiful diamond. His wife.

"What's going on?" You ask him, those beautiful eyes crinkling at the edges in another one of his favorite smiles when his hands descend into your hair, carding the strands between his fingers.

"I bought the tickets for us to go and visit Evgeny and Sara." He says.

"Oh good," you say with a nod before leaning into his touch. "When do we leave?"

"Next week," he says, tugging playfully on a strand of your hair and chuckling softly when you pout at him for it. "Is that okay?"

You wrap your arms around his waist, rubbing your face into his clothed abdomen, your verbal response muffled in the fabric. Andrei laughs, scratching gently at your scalp. "What was that, almaznyy?"

"Da," you say, leaning back to look at him again but keeping your arms secured around his waist. "That's fine with me."

He smirks when he spots a familiar glint in your eyes, watching the way your pupils dilate then blow out a little wide when he cups your face in his hands, thumbs caressing at your jaw. "My busy little almaznyy, you've been working hard lately, haven't you?"

You nod, humming in agreement. He nods too, letting one of his hands trail down and to the back of your neck, deftly undoing the knots at the top of your apron. "So diligent," he praises, "What did I do to deserve you?"

Your eyes track him as he removes his hands from your body, lowering himself to his knees so he can wrap his arms around your waist to get at the ties behind you. He buries his face into your neck as he does so, adoring the way your head immediately tilts to allow him the room. He ghosts his lips across the skin as he undoes the ties around your waist, ignoring your little whines of protest when he pulls the apron off of you and tosses it to the side.

He sits back on his haunches, looking up at you with a Cheshire grin of his own. "You got clay on your clothes too, almaznyy." He playfully chastises, gesturing towards the little flecks of clay on the black shirt you're wearing - which is most definitely his - and to the miniscule spots on your sweatpants. "Think we should probably get you cleaned up in that case, shouldn't we?"

A small smirk crosses your lips as you nod, and Andrei smiles, surging up to wrap you in his arms. You go easily, both your bodies on muscle memory as you wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, and he lifts you into his hold easily, standing with you and carrying you off down the hall to your bedroom.

The warm spray of the shower cascades down his bare back as Andrei fucks you slow and deep against the tiles, his arms settled into the space behind your knees as he holds you up and open for him.

Your cries echo around the bathroom, your arms wrapped around his neck and fingers tangled in his hair, grasping at the strands desperately, his name a repeated plea on your lips.

"More," you beg sweetly, and he smiles, eyes locked on your face. He lowers you a little bit, and on the next push in, your eyes flutter shut as your mouth falls open in a beautiful cry, pussy squeezing around his cock in a way that makes him so fucking dizzy.

"Come on baby," he coaxes, pressing you impossibly closer against the tiles and against himself, burying his face in your neck to suck a bruise into the skin. With every press of his hips forward, your clit grinds against his abs, and he can feel the way your body begins to tense up and shake in his hold, your nails disappearing from his scalp to dig into his shoulders instead.

His name leaves your lips in another desperate plea, and he chuckles, nipping playfully at the skin of your neck, your jaw, before capturing your lips in a filthy kiss. He licks into your mouth, massaging his tongue with yours before he pulls away just slightly, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth as he goes.

"Is my pretty wife going to come on her husband's cock?" He taunts, and he sees the way the words go straight through you, your eyes glazing over, body going almost lax in his grip.

(He'd gotten much filthier and practically insane with his dirty talk over time. It started not long after you'd left Eden and began officially dating nearly seven months after meeting, and had only gotten more intense during the three month time span that you'd been engaged. It didn't help the fact that he noticed you particularly loved when he called you his wife, regardless of the situation.)

"Andrei," you plead. "Please."

"Please what, pretty baby?" He murmurs, dragging his lips against yours lazily, "What is it my pretty wife wants, hm?"

Your pussy squeezes down again and he groans, stealing another filthy kiss from you. "'M so close," you say between kisses, dragging your nails across his shoulders again.

He keeps your legs hooked over his bent arms, reaching his hands down to squeeze at your waist, thumb rubbing gently over where he knows a little diamond tattoo sits at your side, fucking you onto his cock in deep, sharp thrusts that steal your breath from you, and your eyes squeeze shut as your body shakes even more in his hold.

Andrei latches his lips to that sensitive spot on your neck, pressing his body tight against yours. That, and the added friction as your clit rubs against his abs, your sensitive nipples brushing against his chiseled chest, has you coming around him with a loud cry. Your pussy clamps down, pulsing around him and Andrei groans, holding you tight as he fucks past the grip, chasing after his own orgasm.

He groans low and deep, electricity shooting up his spine as he comes, filling you from where he's buried deep. It sends your body into a second orgasm almost immediately, and Andrei curses, muttering a string of Russian in your ear at the unexpected sensation.

You both take a blissful, fucked out moment to calm down, heartbeats slowing and breathing returning to normal.

"Okay?" He murmurs after a few minutes, and you nod, sighing happily in his hold. He taps your hips, and you nod again. An unhappy sounding noise leaves you when he gently pulls out, and his heart aches a little bit, thinking you’re probably sore. He’s immediately pressing apologetic kisses to your forehead while lowering you to the ground. His hands stay on your body, keeping you steady until you manage to stand on your own.

When his eyes finally get back to your face, there's an expression there he hasn't seen before, one he can't quite place. There's a tinge of disappointment there, and longing, and it brings a frown to his face too.

He cups your face in his hands, tilting your head up to look at him. When your eyes lock, the expression fades, and the smile that takes over your face is so brightly it almost knocks him off of his feet.

"What's wrong, almaznyy?" He says, thumb brushing against your cheeks.

You lean into his touch, hands circling around his wrists. "Nothing, Drei." You promise, "I'm perfectly happy."

There's nothing in your voice or in your face now that tells him that you're lying, or that you're hiding anything from him, so he has no reason to not believe you.

Still, he stores the expression he saw away for later, keeping it in mind just in case.

He takes his time washing you both off after that, enjoying the content noises you make as he shampoos your hair and wraps you up in a fluffy towel when you're all done, pressing gentle kisses all over your face before seizing your mouth in a kiss he hopes tells you "I'm so in love with you I think my heart might burst without you."

Andrei quickly darts out of the way as a little boy zooms past him, his father chasing after him and tossing a “sorry!” over his shoulder as he goes.

He laughs a little, calling out a “it’s okay!” in their way as he double checks that he still has a hold on your drinks and food before he keeps walking.

He heads back into the airport lounge and straight for you, handing you a cup of hot chocolate and a warmed up croissant from one of the bistros in the terminal. You accept it with a happy smile and a murmured ‘thank you’ before he snuggles up next to you on the little couch you’ve both managed to commandeer for yourselves.

He glances over at your airport outfit once more, mostly because he can’t help but appreciate how cozy you look.

Admittedly, he’s still got a small habit of dressing up when he flies, so he’s his standard in black pants and a white shirt, and you insisted on matching with him when you got dressed this morning. You’re in black lounge pants, a white shirt, and you have a gray sweater tied and resting around your shoulders.

Andrei figured out that when you fly you prefer to have your own blanket with you, which you have curled around your shoulders right now as you take a sip of your hot chocolate.

You look more ready for a cozy winter than you do for a week-long vacation during the summer in San Jose.

“Is it good baby?” He asks, taking a sip of his own coffee. You nod, holding the cup to your cheek. Another thing he learned - you get cold easily, but especially in airports.

“Very,” you nod, leaning your head to rest on his shoulder. “Spasibo, malysh.”

“You’re welcome, almaznyy.”

He’s content to relax like that with you, and when he takes his phone out once you’ve finished your drinks, you help him with the crossword puzzle game he became addicted to once he saw you playing it yourself.

The two of you are engrossed in trying to figure out a six letter word for the clue “tough” when there’s a blur of pale yellow accompanied by a flurry of giggles that crashes into your legs, and it makes both of you jump up a little in surprise.

It’s a baby boy, Andrei realizes, one who’s most likely just learned what running is given the delighted and mischievous expression on his face, and when he turns to check if you’re okay, he’s surprised to find you out of your seat, blanket abandoned, and kneeling on the floor in front of the child to see if they’re okay.

The baby looks like he’s seconds from crying, but then you’re smiling, speaking at him quietly and gently, and to Andrei’s amazement, the baby stops, looks at you, and then bursts into a fit of giggles.

You laugh, happy that you could make him feel better, and continue to speak to him while he babbles away at you. He’s seen you do it with Luka, coaxing him away from a tantrum he’d been seconds away from, and calming Mila down when she scraped her knee while learning to ride her bike that first time, and it still amazes him how good you are with kids. Something warm and fuzzy starts to grow in his heart, and it stops short when a woman who Andrei can only assume is the baby’s mother approaches.

“I’m so sorry!” She says, jogging toward where you and the baby are on the ground. “Leo’s just discovered how fast he can move but we’re still working on finding his brakes.”

“It’s alright,” you reassure her through a laugh. “My nephew Luka was the same.”

My nephew - Andrei still loved that you thought that way.

“He probably had places to be and we were just in the way, weren’t we Leo?” You tease, pulling a funny face at Leo. His mom laughs when Leo bursts into giggles, picking Leo up into her arms.

“He’s fast,” Andrei notes when you stand with her, “How old is he?”

“He just turned one,” his mom gushes.

You make a little cooing sound. “Is he your first?”

Leo’s mother shakes her head with a laugh. “You’d think so, but I have a three year old too. His name’s Sky, he’s with my husband over there, we finally just got him to settle down but then this little guy decided it was time to sprint.”

You and Andrei look over to where Leo’s mom gestured, finding the three year old who almost ran him over earlier eating snacks while his dad watches over him, all the while looking over at his wife and smiling when he sees her.

Andrei knows that smile, he probably sends that same smile your way about a hundred times a day.

Ulybka vlyublennogo muzhchiny. His mom had said. The smile of a man in love.

“You should think about getting them into sports soon.” Andrei says when he turns back toward the mom, “Sky almost tackled me in the terminal earlier-”

“-And Leo barely flinched when he ran into me!” You tease, making another funny face at the baby. He giggles, suddenly growing shy as he hides in his mom’s shoulders.

She laughs, “Everyone’s been saying that to me. I might just have to consider it.”

Andrei reaches into his pocket, grabbing his business card from his wallet and hands it to the mother with a small smile. “If you ever think they’re interested in hockey, give me a call or send me an email. I’d be happy to get them set up.”

The mother takes Andrei’s card with a curious look, and when she reads his name, her eyes light up in recognition, and she smiles, laughing a little to herself.

“I knew you looked familiar! My husband and I are big fans. We were there for your last cup winning game. It’s so nice to meet you!”

Andrei catches the glance you shoot at him from the corner of his eye, can see the tense line of your shoulders in his peripheral, but he gives the mother an easy smile, and your body relaxes.

Now that he has you, that time in his life isn’t so painful anymore.

“Thank you,” he says genuinely. “I’m glad that you were there, it felt good to have home crowd support.”

“I appreciate your offer, I’ll definitely reach out.” She says, then looks at both of you. “It was nice meeting you both, you’re such a lovely couple!”

You both say your goodbyes, you waving at baby Leo, who waves back shyly, then looks at Andrei. Andrei waves too, and to his surprise, baby Leo waves back to him too, before burying his face in his mother’s shoulder.

You finally return to your seat on the couch next to Andrei, wrapping both of your arms around his, resting your chin on his shoulder as you smile brightly up at him.

“That was hot of you.” You say, which has Andrei laughing in surprise.

“What was, almaznyy?”

“You and your business cards.” You say, scrunching your nose a little. “I liked it, it was very authoritative.”

Andrei shakes his head, booping your nose with his finger. “Calm yourself down, almaznyy. I’m still not interested in being part of the mile high club.”

You roll your eyes with a shrug, but relax fully against his side. “Offer still stands.”

You're laying on the floor of Sara and Evgeny's living room, laughing as you bounce eight month old baby Alexei up and down against your belly, watching as his little legs kick back and forth and he babbles his joy. From beside you, three year old Luka lays on his belly as he plays with the train set Andrei had bought him last Christmas, and five year old Mila rests on your other side, coloring diligently in the sketchbook you'd bought her for her birthday.

She'd seen you drawing in one of your journals and had become both enraptured and amazed as she observed you, and then had been overjoyed when you handed her the book and pencil so she could create her own drawings as she pleased.

Her parents had been worried that she might accidentally press the pencil too tight and ruin one of your other drawings, or accidentally draw over something you had done, but either way, you would have cared less. "It's good for her to do it this way," you had told them, "so she knows what she makes is important, too."

On the couch above you, Sara's feeding a bottle to Alexei's twin brother Aleksander, watching you and her children. She smiles, nudging you gently in the side with her socked feet.

"You're a natural at this," she praises. "The kids always seem to behave better when you're here."

You scoff a little, making nonsensical noises at Alexei as he babbles back at you. "Hardly," you say. "I think it's because Andrei wears them out first."

When you and Andrei come around, he tends to round up his niece and nephews, tiring the older ones out by running around while you and Sara or Evgeny or Andrei's parents help with the twins.

Sara shakes her head. "No, he might wear them out, but they still have plenty of room to be crazy. You settle them down. This is the quietest they've been all day."

You look at your nieces and nephews at where they each are, peaceful and happy and content, and you shrug, smiling a little to yourself. "I guess so."

Sara laughs, nudging you again. "So, when are you gonna have some little ones of your own? We're outnumbered by boys here and it's your turn to pop a baby out for once."

You falter slightly, almost dropping baby Alexei straight on your face before you catch him effortlessly, trying to ignore the wave of dizziness when you launch yourself upright into a sitting position. Luka and Mila barely spare either of you a glance, too focused on what they're doing. You gaze at Sara, holding Alexei tight with one hand while shushing her with the other.

"Not so loud!" You half whisper, half yell.

Andrei and Evgeny were just in the kitchen not too far away, and while they were probably distracted by shop talk, you couldn't risk him hearing like this.

Sara narrows her eyes at you, frowning, whisper-yelling right back. "You told me on the phone last week that you were going to talk to him about it! And the week before that, and two weeks before that!"

You groan, shaking your head and beginning to bounce Alexei again when he starts to fuss. Sara shakes her head right back at you, gesturing for you to follow her as she heads toward the twins' nursery, instructing Mila and Luka to "wait right here while mommy talks to your aunt."

As you head to the nursery, you pass Andrei and Evgeny who are, as expected, engrossed in their conversation, but it doesn't stop Andrei from tossing a wink at you as you pass by.

You pointedly ignore the way it makes butterflies swarm and swoop in your stomach, smiling softly in return before ducking out of sight and into the nursery. Sara shuts the door behind you, giving you a pointed look as she does so.

You'd had best friends before, obviously, but never an older sister figure, and none quite like Sara. When Andrei had introduced you two, she'd been nothing but welcoming, friendly, and someone you'd come to rely on quite a lot since then.

When she announced she was pregnant with twins last year, you'd been overjoyed for her, and often traveled back and forth between San Jose and Raleigh to help her with the babies, especially since it had been Evgeny's first year working with the coaching staff of the Sharks, having previously been in the front office.

Maybe it was the excitement you got in helping her decorate the nursery, even though most of it was taken care of since they had things from Luka and Mila, or maybe it was just all the preparation you helped her with, but it had given you severe baby fever.

Like...severe.

Severe enough that you were practically ready to be pregnant that very same day until reality kicked in and knocked some serious sense into you.

You'd asked her how she and Evgeny had approached the topic of having kids, if she had advice on how you should broach the subject with Andrei, and she had only one thing to say.

"They're pretty direct people," she had said. "It's best to rip the bandaid off with something like that."

A couple of months ago, she texted you a picture of the twins in the matching pajama set you'd bought, and something in it made you want to finally talk to Andrei about it. So you told Sara that you would.

But...

The second you'd gone to Andrei in his office about it, you suddenly got cold feet. Realistically, you two hadn't actually talked about having kids before. Things with the two of you had been unconventional and fast from the start, so granted, you both had done things a little messily and quite backwards.

Still, the worst he could say to you was "no" or "not right now baby," but despite your past mess you two had always been on the same page, so the idea of hearing a "not right now" was okay, but hearing "no"?

Yeah, not something you had exactly prepared yourself for.

So instead of allowing there to be room for a "no" or "not right now," you just...didn't say a word.

Which Sara was definitely going to yell at you for.

Or at least, whisper yell, what with the twins going down for their nap and all.

Sara lays a droopy Aleksander into his crib, and he falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow. She takes Alexei from you next, sitting in the rocking chair set up in the corner of the room to start to feed him his bottle while you sit on the floor, gazing at baby Aleksander through the bars of his crib.

"What in the world are you waiting for?" Sara asks you, voice soft but firm in the nursery.

You groan a little to yourself. "I just haven't gotten around to it, okay?"

"Yes, but why?" She presses. "You know he won't say no to you."

"I actually don't know that. He might not be able to say no when I ask for help, or ask for something, but children are not things to ask for. It's an entire human being you're bringing into the world, you know!"

Sara gives you a deadpan expression. "Of course I know, I've brought four of them into existence."

"Then you know that it's a lot to ask. Even if I want a child, even if I want to be a mom and raise my kids and bring them up, that doesn't guarantee that Andrei wants the same."

"He'll want them with you." Sara insists. "He'll want them because you'll be their mother and he's in love with you and those kids will be half of you and he'll be so proud to say that they're your children."

The idea fills you with hope, but you tamp it down. You have to be realistic about this. You know your husband, and you know that while Sara's right and he will do anything for you, he also probably won't handle this being sprung on him as a surprise, or appreciate being confronted with it out of the blue.

"Just get rid of your birth control and tell him you want a kid." Sara insists, and your eyes bug out of your head.

"Are you insane?" You whisper yell. "That would definitely give him a heart attack."

"Don't be so dramatic," she says, rolling her eyes. "He's too young to have those."

"I'll talk to him," you promise, more to yourself than to Sara. "But I'm not using any of your suggestions."

Sara shrugs. "Fine by me, but there'd better be a new baby next Christmas, and it won't be mine."

In the kitchen, Andrei watches with fond eyes as you disappear into the nursery with Sara and the twins. He's listening to what Evgeny's talking about, he really is, but his eyes are locked on the silent screen of the baby monitor, showing you handing Alexei off to Sara after Sara's put Aleksander down.

Watching you with his niece and nephews all day had filled his heart with something warm and fuzzy, something he couldn't quite place.

The way that you cared for his family since he introduced you to them was something that made Andrei incredibly happy, and he could tell that the way that they cared for you in turn made you just as happy.

He often caught you speaking with his mother on the phone, trying your best to only stick to Russian as best as possible to make her comfortable. His father didn't reach out often, but when he did, you did your best to converse with him too. Sometimes, when you thought Andrei wasn't looking, he'd see you reading through a Russian textbook in your art studio, brushing up on the language.

You talked to Sara almost every week, the two of you growing to be as close as sisters, and that made Andrei happy considering the only real sibling relationship you had was still pretty strained. Even after Andrei married you, your brother Joshua still wasn't his favorite person, which was unfortunate, considering his husband Sam was an angel and one of your favorite people.

Evgeny had also grown closer to you a little, considering how much you helped him and Sara prepare for the arrival of the twins. There were times he'd reach out to you if he couldn't reach Andrei for any reason, and Evgeny often teased Andrei about how more often than not, it seemed like a freak accident that he'd managed to find someone like you to be his wife.

"Believe me," Andrei had told his brother. "I know."

He listens intently to his brother as he discusses what's going on with the Sharks, clearly seeking Andrei's advice, but all the while, Andrei keeps his eyes on you, watches you through the baby monitor as you sit with Sara and the twins.

Everything about your body language screams comfort, like there's nowhere in the world you'd rather be, and it brings a smile to his face unconsciously.

Evgeny pauses in his ranting, glancing to the baby monitor and rolling his eyes, shoving at Andrei. "Obrashchat' vnimaniye," he scolds. Pay attention.

"I am!" Andrei insists, turning his full attention back to his brother. "You were saying?"

Evgeny opens his mouth, then closes it, a curious expression crossing his features. "Have you thought about it?"

"About what?" Andrei asks, moving his brother so he can go into the fridge and steal one of those obnoxious glass bottles of water Evgeny insists on buying.

"About what comes after marriage," Evgeny says. "About having kids."

Andrei almost drops the water bottle on the kitchen floor, can hear it shatter in his ears, but he's pretty sure that's his brain doing that. "About what?" He asks, voice practically an echo in his head.

Evgeny shakes his head. "Ty takoy idiot."

Andrei turns to face him, frowning. "I am not an idiot."

"You are, actually. Have you two not talked about having kids?"

Andrei opens his mouth, then shuts it.

You two actually hadn't. Not really. Not at all, now that he thought about it.

Evgeny shakes his head. "Listen, I know you're enjoying your never ending honeymoon phase, but it wouldn't hurt to ask."

Andrei takes a swig from his water, glancing at you on the monitor.

You've got Alexei in your arms now, feeding him the rest of his bottle while Sara rests on the rocking chair, eyes on Aleksander.

His heart does a little flip, imagining you holding a little baby that's got your nose and his eyes, and it brings back the warm and fuzzy feeling he'd felt earlier.

Maybe...maybe it was worth a discussion.

Since Evgeny's house had gotten crowded with all the kids, Andrei had booked a suite for the two of you at the Marriott.

It had a lovely view of the city, especially at night, and Andrei enjoyed it even more with your naked body pressed against one of the many floor to ceiling windows, watching the way your face twisted with pleasure in the reflection of the glass.

The lights were off in the hotel room, so there wasn't a single chance of anyone seeing what the two of you were up to, but the thrill was there all the same. He wanted to show you off, show off his beautiful little wife, the only diamond he ever needed.

Your palm prints littered the window as you pushed back against him, and Andrei groaned, tightening the grip on your hips, fingers pressing against where he knew that little diamond tattoo rested beneath the waistband of your thong.

He could barely wait, barely think by the time you both got back to the hotel. The second your jeans were off, he pulled your thong to the side and slid in to the hilt, burying himself inside of you and making you come all over him in seconds.

It wasn't often that Andrei took you from behind. More often than not, he preferred looking at you, preferred watching the beautiful faces you made and watching the way your body reacted to his own. But in times like these, where there was something that could help him watch you, he couldn't exactly complain.

He releases his hold on one of your hips, letting his hands wander up your torso, bringing you upright against him as he bends his knees a little, adjusting for your height difference so he can cage you against him as he fucks into you.

Pleasant and happy noises leave you as he plays with one of your nipples, then the other, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses on your neck. His nails gently scratch at the valley between your breasts, making you shiver, before trailing his hand down your stomach.

He had every intention of putting his fingers to your clit, rubbing gently there the way you liked when he took you like this, but instead, his hands lingered on your stomach, on where he could feel the slight bulge of where his cock fucked in and out of you, and he found his hands resting there instead.

A shiver ran through your body, your pussy pushing back on his cock again as if on impulse, and a deep, pleased noise rumbled through Andrei's chest.

"Almaznyy?" He murmured against your neck, finding the sensitive spot below your ear and sucking against it gently.

You gasped in his hold, shaking a little, and he chuckled, pressing his hand against the little bulge of your stomach, the hand he still had on your waist tightening its grip, pressing his fingers a little more into the diamond tattoo.

"Can you feel me here, moya krasivaya zhena?" He asks you, cock throbbing when you squeeze against him in excitement. You loved it when he called you ‘my pretty wife.’ "Can you feel me fucking you?"

You nod, frantic, hands gripping onto his arms. "Please, malysh, wanna come."

"You wanna come already?" He taunts. "Gonna come for me in front of the whole city?"

A soft whine leaves your lips as he thrusts in particularly hard, emphasizing his question.

"Yes," you answer, nearly breathless.

“And what about me?” He teases, pressing his hand against your stomach a little more. "You want me to come inside, almaznyy? Want me to come right here?"

In the reflection of the window, he catches the way your eyes slam shut before you throw your head back against his shoulder, mouth open in a silent cry and body seizing as your orgasm claims you. Your pussy clenches impossibly tight, and it sends Andrei over the edge in seconds, pushing down on your waist to bury himself inside of you, cock throbbing almost painfully as he comes.

The two of you shake silently for a second, and Andrei holds you both upright as best as he can until he can feel your body as it calms down. He pulls out gently, not wasting a second before he scoops you up, walking you over to the bed to lay you on it gently before he climbs on beside you.

You go to him almost immediately, and his arms open on instinct, welcoming you in his embrace as you bury your nose in his chest.

He wants to say something, anything. He wants to ask you if what just happened was okay, if you're okay, if he didn't cross a line, if you maybe wanted to try that again sometime soon or maybe if you want to try it in a different position.

But then he hears your breathing start to even out, feels the way your body goes lax in his hold, and he resigns himself to discussing it another time.

The following day, you and Andrei head back over to Sara and Evgeny’s for lunch. You help Sara put the kids down for their naps after you all eat, and Andrei and Evgeny handle the dishes.

When you and Sara come out of the kids’ rooms, you’re met with a chorus of laughter from Andrei, Evgeny, and then their mother’s voice echoes through the living room.

Peeking around the corner, you can see Andrei and Evegny crowded around Evgeny’s laptop, definitely on FaceTime with their mother.

She signals to you to hang back, and you nod. You’re more than happy to give Andrei and his brother the alone time they need to speak with their mom, so you lean back against the wall, Sara against the one opposite you, and you smile at each other when you hear the brother excitedly converse with their mother in Russian.

Your fluency has gotten better, but it’s not one hundred percent - same with Sara’s - so the two of you can only really pick up on bits and pieces here and there, catching tidbits of their mother’s praises for her boys along with her normal chastising.

You two are looking fit!

Still, you both need to eat more.

You’re working too hard.

Are you ready for the upcoming season?

Oh my brilliant boys!

How are my daughters?

How are the grandkids?

Evgeny, you’d better bring them by soon so I can babysit.

Andrei, how are you doing?

Are you and my favorite girl happy?

When are you two going to give me more grandchildren?!

That last part sends a shock through your body, and Sara nudges you with her foot at the same time Andrei begins to stutter and stammer in the living room.

Their mom starts to say something else when her voice gets quieter, and you realize Andrei’s turned the volume down. His voice gets a little quieter, and Evgeny’s loud laughter drowns out whatever Andrei says in return to their mother.

Sara gives you another pointed look, as if to say “So you still didn’t talk to him about it.”

You roll your eyes, and she nudges your foot again before dragging you down the hall and into her and Evgeny’s bedroom.

“For the love of God,” she says. “I know you said you’re not taking my suggestions, but you are going to have to take this one, specifically with the promise that you’ll at least save it until you get back to Raleigh.”

You answer her with a deadpan stare, and she sighs, exasperated, before gesturing to you.

“You have to seduce him.” She says plainly. “It’s how I did it with Evgeny, and it’s how you’re going to have to do it with Andrei instead of tiptoeing around.”

You’re slightly dumbfounded, so all you can manage is a weak “What?”

“Remember when I told you to rip the bandaid off?” She asks, and you nod. She waves a hand around, “Well, that’s what I meant by that. Seduce him. Rip the bandaid off.”

“Seduce him…” You say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement.

Sara grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you a bit. “You know he loves you, you know he thinks you’re hot. Use it.”

Sara doesn’t know how you and Andrei met, no one does except Lottie, Oli, Mason, Eli, and you and Andrei. She has no idea about your past.

Which means she has no idea that if there is anything you know how to do, it’s seduce Andrei.

You try your best to clear your mind, focusing on exfoliating your skin as you shower and the things you’re planning on doing once this shower is done.

It had been a week since you’d returned from visiting with Sara and Evgeny, and this morning, you’d gone to see your OBGYN doctor to discuss…well, a possible game plan.

You agreed that after you finished this round of birth control pills and had your period, you and Andrei would probably start trying.

And well, after you spoke to Andrei about all of this, of course.

But Sara was right, seduction might have to come first. You were too out of sorts to wait any longer.

He had been gone this morning when you went to your appointment, having to be at the practice rink to watch the team’s morning skate, and when you had returned home after running some errands, he’d been in his office for a string of phone calls, which he said he’d be in and out of till about two this afternoon.

It was about noon, then. So you’d gone on a run, had a little pep talk with yourself to prepare for the impending conversation, and strategized.

The pep talk you had was simple - if during said conversation, Andrei voiced that he didn’t want kids, that was that. You would not be forcing him into anything he didn’t want or trying to convince him, and the two of you would likely talk things out from there.

If he did want kids, perfect, you could talk about that, but, you could also give him a bit of extra motivation.

Which brought you to the seduction strategy you’d developed so carefully on the way back from your run.

It was about one in the afternoon when you got back, so you threw together a quick lunch for you and Andrei to have - once he was done with his phone calls and you - and it was about one thirty when you hopped into the shower.

You’d gone for a wax right after your doctor’s appointment, as part of the errands you ran, along with a mani pedi, but a little extra gentle exfoliation on the legs never hurt anyone.

Once you finished in the shower, you toweled off and applied the vanilla lotion Andrei loved the most on you, before slipping on one of your favorite sundresses. It was also one Andrei liked on you, particularly because it was just the right side of see through.

Hence, why it was a key part to your strategy.

It might be devious, and it’s definitely playing dirty, but you need a little ammunition on your side, if not for the sake of a small confidence boost to get you through the conversation.

You did this for a living, for a time. You did this specifically for Andrei before, it shouldn’t be too hard to do it for him again. Sure, the way that you seduced him now looked different, the way that you were together now had changed drastically, but Sara was right. At the very least, Andrei loved you, and he never failed to remind you how attractive you were to him.

So hopefully, this worked.

You checked the time on the clock on your nightstand - one fifty five. A quick glance in the mirror assured you this was the best option outfit wise, and your nerves reminded you that you’d both probably need a little bit of liquid courage for this next bit. Heading back out to the kitchen, you make yourself a quick margarita and pour Andrei a shot of his favorite whisky.

If there was anything you knew about your husband, sometimes he just needed a little something to take the edge off before he could plow forward with whatever it was he needed to do. He was bound to be nervous once you brought up the idea of having a baby, especially if you were going to be playing just a little bit dirty about it.

You grabbed both glasses and headed back down the hall to Andrei’s office. Just as you crossed the threshold, he was bidding whoever was on the other line goodbye, and you took a deep breath to steel yourself.

Andrei is your husband. You love each other. You reminded yourself. He is your husband. You can get through anything together.

Andrei smiles when you hand him his glass, his reading glasses perched on his nose making him look both hot, authoritative, and innocent all at once. “Now how did you know I needed this, moya zhena?”

You shrug, playing innocent. “A lucky guess.”

You both toast, clinking your glasses before each taking a sip of your respective drinks. You try to hide your smile behind your glass as you do, but you should’ve known better.

Andrei’s almost always looking at you, so nothing ever could get past your loving and doting husband.

“What’s that smile doing there?” He teases, and it’s then that he seems to finally take in what you’re wearing.

And that you’re wearing nothing underneath it.

You try another innocent smile, but Andrei raises a brow in suspicion, quirking his finger and summoning you to his side of the desk.

Placing your glass down on the mahogany, you round the desk to his side, obeying when he taps the desk and jumping up, taking a seat but keeping your legs crossed.

You don’t want him distracted.

“Are you about to ask me for something expensive, almaznyy? Because if you are, you’re off to a good start.”

You never actually needed to do anything if it was expensive, including asking him for anything, since you did have your own income, and you both knew that. But still, every now and again you liked to pretend like you did, liked the way it made Andrei nervous and pliant, like he didn’t meet you the way he actually did, like he wasn’t familiar with the concept.

But that wasn’t what you were going for here.

“Well,” you start, “it’s sort of expensive. An…investment, if you will.”

He frowns slightly. “Don’t tell me Jarvy’s wife actually talked you into wanting to buy that monstrosity of a beach house.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of you, having almost completely forgotten Tessa’s attempt to expand her real estate portfolio by tempting you with an even bigger sunroom than the one you and Andrei had now.

You shake your head. “No no, I don’t want that house.”

“But you do want a house?” Andrei inquires.

You shake your head, nerves suddenly racing through your veins. It makes your hands shake, so you reach out for him, cupping his jaw with your hand, leaving the other resting in your lap. You thumb over the stubble along his jaw, humming to yourself, trying to gather the right words.

It makes Andrei nervous. “Listen, almaznyy, whatever it is, we-”

“I want this house, Bubby,” you interrupt, wanting to be out with it but also not sure if you were remotely prepared for the rest of his sentence. At the pet name, Andrei’s eyes get brighter, his entire demeanor softening. “I want this house, with you and I in it, and maybe…maybe a little one running around in it, too.”

There. You said it…kind of.

But it was out there now.

And Andrei…

There’s surprise in his face, definitely, and you’d been expecting that. But there’s also no…opposition. Nothing that says he doesn’t want to have this conversation, nothing that screams disagreement, nothing that says he doesn’t like the idea.

There are nerves there, like yours, but amongst the nerves and surprise is…hope? Something wistful.

You lean into it, trailing your hand from his face to his arm, then down to the desk where his hand rests beside your legs. You take it, intertwining your fingers, playing with his hand a little.

“Bubby,” you continue. And that time you’re definitely playing dirty, saying one of his favorite pet names like that, like you want something - which you do, no question - and it makes Andrei’s whole body relax. “I want a baby,” you say, this time, plainly, so there’s no question and no doubt. “I want to have a baby with you.” You glance up at him, finding his intense gaze already on you. “What do you think?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and if you didn’t already know your husband, his lack of a response might concern you. But the look on his face tells you that he’s thinking, and so you wait, giving him enough space and time to collect his thoughts.

Finally, he squeezes your hand, a little sigh of relief mixed with a laugh leaving his chest, eyes crinkling at the corners as a brilliant smile takes over his features. He says nothing, just maneuvers you to part your legs so he can haul you off the desk and into his lap. You go to him easily, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his neck, breathing him in. One of his arms bands itself across your waist, the other across your back so he can cradle the back of your head in his hands.

“I didn’t know how to ask you.” He says softly into your ear. “I’ve been thinking about it, too. How to ask…how to tell you…”

“Ya tozhe,” you tell him. Me too. “I didn’t know if it was something you wanted.”

“We never talked about it,” he agrees. “And we should have, and I’m sorry we didn’t.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, malysh. We’re talking about it now, aren’t we?” You say, pressing a small kiss to his jaw.

He tightens his grip on you. “Because you were brave enough to do it. You’ve always been the brave one of the two of us, almaznyy.”

“You were the one who brought us together, Andrei.” You remind him, “I couldn’t have done that. Only you could have, and you did.”

“I would do it again.” He swears, leaning back a little to press a kiss to your forehead.

You pull back a little, puckering your lips, and he laughs, leaning down to kiss you softly, gently, and like he has all the time in the world. You love when he kisses you like this, like he’s afraid you’ll break or disappear into thin air. It makes you feel precious, like the very diamond he continues to call you.

“Bubby,” you murmur between kisses, “how many babies do you want?”

There’s a choked noise that bubbles in his throat, so you pull back, looking at him in concern. He reaches for his scotch, but you bat his hand away, handing him the bottle of water he always keeps on his desk instead.

He takes a couple of grateful swigs, and much to his disappointment, you climb off of him and climb back to your perch on his desk, giving him some room to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “Didn’t mean to take you by surprise there.”

Andrei shakes his head, putting the closed water bottle down and reaches for his glass, downing the rest of its contents. When it's empty, you take it back from him, putting it on a far enough corner of his desk before reaching for your glass, taking down the rest of your margarita, then set the empty glass next to Andrei’s. Once those are out of the way, you lean back on your hands, your attention solely on Andrei once more.

He’s got a little glint in his eye as he considers you, letting one of his hands come up to rest on your legs, caressing your skin. “You know me, almaznyy. I’m not picky.” He starts. “I’ll be satisfied with as many babies as you’re willing to give me.”

You smile, pleased with his answer. In reward, you nudge the hand he has on your leg a little, and Andrei beams, gently grabbing your calf so he can part your legs, this time, to take in the sight of your bare pussy.

Carefully, you pull up the hem of your dress and push yourself to the edge of his desk, and Andrei takes your ankles, gently placing one on the armrest of his chair, putting the other over his shoulder. He scoots his chair in closer, your leg sliding down his back a little and allowing his hands to rest on your hips.

“We should…” he starts, swallowing. “We should probably talk about this a little more.”

You smirk. “We are talking, though.”

“In depth,” he clarifies. “Get into specifics, and things.”

But even as he says it, you can see in his face you probably wouldn’t get further than the next five minutes. “We can still talk about it after, too, okay? We’ll sit and have a real conversation about it.”

He blinks, nodding, then glances down at where you know he wants to bury his face.

“If you wanted a baby, almaznyy,” he says, warm breath fanning over your lower abdomen, “you didn’t have to play dirty.”

“Dirty?” You ask, innocent as ever. “What do you mean?”

Andrei narrows his eyes at you. “The first time you walked into this office on a mission, you were dressed just like this.”

“You mean when I used to be your assistant?” You tease, and he pinches your thigh playfully.

“Moya zhena,” he warns. He may be playful, but it seems you’ve pushed a few too many buttons in that area today.

Shame, you think. Maybe I can try again after dinner.

You roll your eyes playfully, pouting a little. “I was nervous and needed some confidence, alright?”

“You look plenty confident to me,” he reassures you with a slight nod, then he’s bunching up the fabric of your dress and pressing against your stomach, his nice way of saying ‘lay back moya zhena, let me take care of you.’

The first swipe of his tongue in your folds takes you by surprise, a pleasant squeal leaving your lips and echoing around his office. His second taste of you is slower, his tongue laying flat against you and dragging from your entrance to your clit, his lips circling around the bud and sucking in a way that elicits a pleasant moan from you.

Andrei’s hands crawl up your body to the neckline of your dress, and you help him a little, slipping the straps off so he can pull the neckline down, cupping your tits in his hands and squeezing.

He’d been particularly fond of the first time you’d had sex in this house together. Had cherished the memory of you in that light pink sundress and on this desk in a similar fashion. It was probably why you’d chosen to approach him this way, he thinks absentmindedly, lips and mouth settling into the familiar pace you love when he’s got his face between your thighs.

Andrei can feel his pants get a little tighter the wetter you get, his chin coated in your slick and nose nudging against your clit as his lips and tongue work you open. He’s so perfectly at peace here, totally content to just lick at you and taste you for hours at a time that he nearly forgets why you’re sprawled out on his desk like this.

You tugging at his hair serves as a gentle reminder that kicks him into gear, and he smiles against your skin, pressing kisses to the junction of your thighs and nipping at you a little.

“Andrei,” you say, breathless. “Potoropites', pozhaluysta.” Hurry up, please.

He shakes his head, gently letting your legs fall to the side as he sits up in his chair, draping his body over yours. “Not this time, almaznyy,” he says, wrapping your arms around his neck before he wraps his own arms around your back, cupping your ass in his hands.

Your brain kicks into gear just in time for you to wrap your legs around his waist, and then he’s lifting you up, pressing filthy open mouth kisses to your neck as he navigates the hallway carefully, taking the measured and familiar steps to your bedroom.

He lays you gently on the mattress, placing you delicately among the pillows before he’s shedding his shirt and pants, kicking his boxer briefs off to the side and then settling back between your legs.

This time, your thighs squeeze at his head when he sucks your pussy into his mouth particularly hard, tongue dipping inside of you, and your fingers fly into his hair, scratching at his scalp in warning.

“Behave, moy muzh.” you hiss through gritted teeth, even if the way you writhe against his face tells him you like it.

“You started it,” he reminds you, tugging on the dress resting around your middle. You huff, grabbing the bottom and peeling it off, tossing it in the direction of Andrei’s pile of clothes.

Your eyes sparkle with mischief when you watch the way he takes in the sight of your naked body. No matter how many times the two of you do this, Andrei always looks at you the same way.

Like he’s in love, like it’s the first time, like for all he wants to take you apart, the way he’ll put you back together will be well worth it, and if it isn’t, he’ll work for it until it is.

“Pridi ko mne, lyubov' moya,” you beckon him. Come to me, my love.

His bottom lip drags against your clit as he rises from his position, tongue darting out to lick at your arousal still coating his lips, and the sight alone licks at the flame of arousal sparking low in your belly.

When he crawls up your body to kiss you, he props himself up on his arms, not wanting to rest his full weight on you, his delicate little almaznyy. Normally, you love it, but right now, you need something a little different.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you seize his mouth in a bruising, desperate kiss, pulling him down to you and taking him by surprise as you manage to flip him onto his back on the way down. You take full advantage of his surprise by making your way down his body to settle between his legs, wrapping your fist around his cock and taking him into your mouth.

Andrei groans, sitting up on his elbows to watch you.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to make a baby if you keep doing that,” he warns, cock throbbing against your tongue as if to emphasize his point.

You bat your eyelashes at him, sucking at the head of his cock and using your hands to stroke at him at the same time. He hisses, one of his hands flying to rest in your hair, the other resting behind his head and emphasizing the chiseled muscles of his arms, chest, and abdomen.

Sometimes, you couldn’t believe this man was your husband.

“Almaznyy,” he warns when you take him down your throat, swallowing around him. You’re slow to come off his cock, letting him leave your lips with a dramatic ‘pop.’

“I’m still on birth control,” you tell him. “So we can’t make a baby tonight anyway, probably not for another month, at least.”

His brows furrow, both from your statement and the way you twist your wrist, stroking his cock the way you know he likes. “Then what - ah yebat’ - what are we doing?” He asks, trying to focus on the conversation as you take him back in your throat. You hum a little, and he tugs on the strands of your hair again in warning.

You pull off of him, gently stroking your hand up and down, squeezing as you go. “Practicing, of course.”

He lets his arms fall out beside him, collapsing against the pillows and dragging his hands over his eyes. “Almaznyy,” he huffs, hips stuttering when you squeeze him at the base.

“Hmm?” You hum, ready to take him in your mouth again, but Andrei moves quickly, hauling you up his body and cradling you close as he flips you over again. He positions you among the pillows, placing one under your waist so you’re practically propped up for him. He positions himself so his arms rest in the crook of your knees, your ankles near his head as he folds his body over yours.

He takes his cock in his hand, running the head through your folds. “Practice?”

You nod, “Practice, for now.” You reach out, pushing his hand out of the way so you can line his cock up with your entrance. “Which is why the desk was perfectly good, and-”

The rest of your words are stolen from you when Andrei bats your hand away gently and slides inside of you, slow but precise, bottoming out and nestling his body close to yours. Your eyes flutter shut when you squeeze around him, and his hands come up, cradling the sides of your face as he murmurs encouraging words to you, staying still until you’ve adjusted to his size.

“Almaznyy,” he calls, and your eyes blink open, glazed over and hazy and you’ve barely even started. “Good?”

You nod, tilting your hips a little, trying to fuck yourself on his cock. He laughs a little, shaking his head. “So damn impatient.”

He raises his body off of yours a little, angling his hips and setting a steady pace, one that has you whining in protest almost immediately, grabbing at the muscles of his ass and trying to drag him closer.

“I won’t break Andrei-” you start, but he cuts you off with a particularly hard thrust that has your eyes rolling back into your head.

“I don’t care if it’s just practice, almaznyy.” He tells you, “and I don’t care how many times we have to practice. I’m going to make it last, and I’m going to make sure that you remember all the ways I fuck you and make love to you until I put a baby in you.”

You gasp a little, and Andrei smiles to himself, thoroughly pleased. He sits up, placing his hands on the backs of your thighs and settling in to fuck you just the way you like. He fucks you in deep, strong strokes, the head of his cock brushing up against that sensitive spot in your pussy every single time.

It steals your breath from you, and all the telltale signs of an orgasm approaching signal to Andrei like a beacon. The way your breathing catches in your throat, the way you can’t keep your eyes open, how your legs start to shake.

He takes his thumb and rests it on your clit, rubbing in lazy circles until your back arches off the bed, a satisfied cry echoing out of your throat and into the pillows beside your head when you come. Your pussy squeezes down in a way that makes Andrei’s head go dizzy, and then he’s coming with a groan, pushing your hips down onto him as he buries himself to the hilt, his orgasm sudden and a shock to his system.

It takes him a second to catch his breath, and moves your legs off of his shoulders to make it easier to pull out of you and give you reprieve, but a noise of protest leaves your throat, and your ankles lock at the base of his spine.

He pauses, glancing at you curiously when he notices the look on your face.

Andrei thinks back to before you left for San Jose, the day he took you in the shower, and how upset you’d been when he set you down on your feet.

It clicks in his head, then. What you’d been upset about.

He’s still hard - he’s practically always hard when he’s around you - so he moves his hips, slowly pulling back an inch before pushing back inside. You throw your head back, his name leaving your lips in relief, and he smirks.

Fucking you in shallow thrusts, thumb circling your clit, Andrei watches in fascination as he pushes his come back inside of you with his cock, watches the way your pretty face twists in pleasure, and hums satisfactorily to himself.

“Is this what you’ve been needing, moya zhena?” He asks, eyes on yours the whole time. “How long have you wanted this?”

You can barely answer him, your head thrown back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed, back still arched and pushing those beautiful tits of yours up. Andrei takes them in his hands, massaging them, and you keen, pushing into his hands and pussy trying to retreat from his cock with nowhere to go.

The sensation feels different for him. He’s hypersensitive now, all too away of the slick slide of his cock, of your mixed come leaking out of you before he pushes back in, feels heat begin to prick at his skin when your pussy continues to flutter and squeeze, like it’s trying to keep him inside of you. With every brush of his finger over your nipples, your pussy squeezes and you try to pull off of him, but in the next breath you’re winding your hips, pushing back down until he’s buried to the hilt.

Andrei pushes your legs up again before he rests his weight on you gently, his shoulders under your knees, burying his face in your neck and placing his hands under your ass, cradling you closer to him as he starts to fuck you in deeper strokes, drowning in the pleased little noises leaving your lips.

“Ty chuvstvuyesh' sebya tak khorosho, dorogaya,” he murmurs against your neck. You feel so good, darling.

“Andrei,” you finally manage to breathe out, and relief floods through his veins. There were times when you two made love that you got so lost in the pleasure that you couldn’t speak to him, and it worried Andrei to no end. But you always came back to him, always called for him, and the same calm washes over his body, a shiver running up his spine.

Your arms come up, wrapping around his neck and arching your back, giving him more access to you. Andrei hums, pleased, sucking a bruise into your skin while his cock starts to throb from where he’s fucking you, can feel a second orgasm creeping up when he bites down gently, raking his teeth over the sensitive skin and you start to squeeze and clench around him.

“Gonna come again, almaznyy?” He asks, nosing along your jaw. “Want me to come again, too?”

You nod, turning your head and Andrei meets you, slotting your lips together and swallowing your moans down when you shake gently beneath him, back arching and pushing your body closer to his. His eyes squeeze shut, electricity zipping up his spine when your orgasm tips him over the edge and he’s spilling into you again, groaning against your jaw.

His arms come out from under you and he gently eases your legs back down against the bed, massaging the muscles as he does. Instead of resting them against the bed though, you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles at his lower back, and Andrei laughs.

Gently, he rolls you both until he’s laying underneath you instead, careful to keep himself nestled inside of you, and he smiles to himself when you do a half cat-like stretch before sprawling across his chest.

A pleased little exhale greets his ears after a moment, and his hand comes up, rubbing gentle circles in your back. “Made you lunch,” you tell him, voice hoarse. “‘S in the kitchen.”

“Spasibo, almaznyy.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We should go eat it then, it’s probably cold by now.”

“It’s the chicken caesar salad wraps you like.” You say, lips dragging across his chest as you speak. “And I made strawberry lemonade this morning, should be ready by now.”

He nods, tapping your flank gently. “We should get up, malyshka. Get cleaned up.”

You nod, but you’ve got that look in your eye like before, like you’re disappointed as you carefully lift yourself off of him and roll onto the mattress beside him. Andrei rolls onto his side, cradling your face in his hands. “What’s wrong, moya zhena?”

You shake your head, a small smile gracing your lips. “Nothing’s wrong, just…excited, is all.”

“Excited?”

“To start a family with you,” you clarify.

“Then why do you look so sad?” He wonders, thumbing at the pout in your bottom lip.

You laugh, nose scrunching a little before cuddling into him. “It’s silly - I just wanted to start now.”

“It’s only a month, right?” He asks. You nod, nose rubbing at his pec, and he smiles to himself. “That’s good - plenty of time for us to practice, then? Wanna make sure we get it right on the first try.”

You snort. “Perfektsionist.” Perfectionist.

“Only the best for you, moya zhena.” Andrei says, teasing. Underneath it though, you both know that he’s serious. Because if anything, even as he rises from the bed and lifts you in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom, you know he never does anything half assed.

Now that you’re both on the same page, he’s going to do everything he can to ensure you’re well looked after from beginning to end, and when your little baby eventually comes, he’s going to work twice as hard to make sure the both of you are taken care of, and that you’ll want for nothing.

You, his almaznyy, and your future child, his malen'kaya rubin. His little ruby.

#andrei svechnikov #anderi svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov fic #carolina hurricanes #mendeshoney masterlist

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seat-safety-switch · 1 year ago

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Today's technology industry is all about one thing: selling dumb shit to idiots, then going bankrupt. You might not think that this is a profitable business, and you'd be right. One of these days, I'll figure out exactly why this keeps happening, but in the meantime, these companies sure leave a lot of waste behind.

There's the obvious things: office furniture, giant neon signs of the founder's head, the occasional electrical test gear. What you don't think of is transportation. Every big company, though, is gonna need at least one company car. You can't ask the employees to drive their own cars across town for a business meeting, and the not-really-a-taxi taxi service just shut down and set off a bomb in their headquarters to stick it to the landlord.

Usually, these cars are one of the first things to go. Cars are easy to get rid of, especially fleet cars. Everyone needs one, they're a durable store of value, and you can do skids with them. Mostly, though, they're too big for the auditors to miss, even when they're working in a hurry before the sheriff padlocks their access to the supply warehouse. That was the case with the local scooter rental company, which went belly up a few weeks ago and left electric scooters strewn all over the city, their modems blinking in search of a server that was now partially dismantled and used to mine Poochpoints in Southeast China.

Although I had to fight off a lot of other scrappers when I heard the news, I still managed to fill an entire trunk full of the scooters. Which means it's finally time for me to go electric, although I admit that the conventional view of a motor vehicle by Big Government is not "thirty-six electric scooters leashed together and controlled like a dogsled, careening the back third of a Dodge Neon through the city at upwards of a buck-eighty." Really a failure of imagination on their part. That's why they need the forward-looking innovation of these brave founders who aren't afraid to go bankrupt doing whatever crackhead shit they came up with this week. Keep changing the world, that's what I say.

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naturalproductssl · 3 months ago

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#selling #shopping #groups #makeup and cosmetics #home office furniture

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interiorergonomics · 5 months ago

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Adapting Office Furniture Design to Modern Workspace Challenges

As workplaces evolve and prioritize employee well-being, the significance of ergonomic office furniture creates happier and healthier workplaces. However, navigating the complexities of ergonomic design poses numerous challenges for both furniture manufacturers and office managers. For that reason, we explore the multifaceted landscape of ergonomic challenges in modern office furniture design.…

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#Adapting to Diverse Body Types #Balancing Aesthetics with Ergonomics #Best selling Ergonomic Office Chairs #Ergonomic Challenges in Modern Office Furniture Design #Ergonomic Office Furniture Impact to Workplace Accessibility #Examples of Ergonomic Office Furniture Solutions #Height Adjustable Office Furniture #Modern Office Furniture #Modern Office Furniture Aesthetics #Modern Office Furniture Budgetary Constraints #Modern Office Furniture Integrating Technology #Office Furniture Dubai #Resolution to Modern Office Furniture Challenges

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kdogreads · 1 year ago

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Imagine moving in with Carmy

You didn’t really mean for it to happen.

Carmy lived closer to work and most of your friends’ places, so you started staying there if you worked a late night or got too drunk on a Saturday night and didn’t want to Uber all the way home.

You’d call him after the bar closed and nearly give Carm a heart attack:

Baby? Are you alright? What happened, where are you?

Carmyyy, can you pretty pleaaaase come pick me up?

Don’t want to ride all the way home?

No, Carm, it’s so farrrrrrr

S’okay, baby. I’ll be there in 5

You start leaving clothes and shoes there

Just in case you had an early meeting. Or needed something to wear when you two went hiking after work. It could snow in May in Chicago — what if you needed your boots and coat to shovel out your car? All valid points Carmy made to persuade you to leave some stuff at his place.

Of course, Carmy got you your own toothbrush not too long after you started staying over. He made you mean dinners, but neither of you wanted to hang out all night long with onion or garlic breath.

He slowly starts accruing a stash of everything you may need: tampons, ibuprofen, makeup wipes, socks (the no-shows you like), even that sugar-free dairy-free coffee creamer Carmy thought you paid way too much for.

You change your delivery address to his

On everything from Amazon to your monthly makeup subscription, it just makes more sense for it to go to Carm’s. Otherwise it’ll just sit at your apartment’s office for days.

Your mail starts coming there, too, since you put his address down whenever you sign up for anything new.

It doesn’t come up until your lease is almost up

Carm’ll hit you with those sad, puppy dog eyes, sweetly questioning you why you bother to pay for a whole apartment you’re hardly at.

Why don’t you, uh, just stay, stay here?

Are you asking me to move in with you, Bear?

Yeah, yeah I guess I am. Move in with me.

Moving day is pretty simple

Seeing as most of the stuff you need is already at Carmen’s place. Your place.

Marcus, Ebra and Richie all come to help, insisting you didn’t need to hire movers with all that man-power around.

You decide to just sell all your big furniture on Facebook marketplace, aside from a funky chair you couldn’t part with and all of your eclectic art collection.

Carmy gives you free reign to redecorate however you want. He doesn’t have much on the walls to begin with, so you meticulously place every piece of art in its perfect place. Carm doesn’t understand all of it, but he loves it. It makes his empty apartment come to life. It feels like a home for the first time in a long time.

Carmy starts calling it “our place” right away

You still stumble here and there:

I left my jacket at Carmy’s, er, at home this morning.

But Carmy would shout it from the rooftops if he could. He’s so proud to be building a home, a life, with you.

Cousin! Can you stop by our place tonight and help us carry that god-awful futon out to the curb?

The two of you are more comfortable than you’ve ever been before

And you can’t wait to spend every night and every morning with Carmen in your home, the one you’re creating together.

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto #carmy x you #carmy fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #the bear hulu #kdogreads #the bear

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thatonebirdwrites · 1 month ago

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Catco and Family

On AO3

For Kara, Catco existed as part of her family. Many of the employees there had a suspicion she was Supergirl -- there's only so many times that she breaks her phones or keyboards before people start to wonder, then there was the whole panic incident where she destroyed the elevator.

Yet none of them had ever given away her secret.

That all changed when Lena sold Catco to Andrea Rojas.

Andrea walked into the CEO office as if she owned it. "Ah, Kara Danvers and James Olsen." She nodded to both of them and made a show of examining the office's amenities.

"Who are you?" James demanded.

"Me? Did Lena not tell you?" Andrea smiled, but the smile felt like a predator watching her prey. "She sold Catco to me. I am your new CEO."

"What?" Kara stared, stunned. "But... but she wouldn't do that without telling me..."

"Oh?" Andrea raised an eyebrow similar to how Lena would. "Perhaps you should ask her about it then." She walked to the desk and looked it over. "I plan some major changes. One being all of you will require new contracts. Non-competing contracts."

James scowled. "That would doom any of us that leaves Catco."

"Then why leave?" Andrea settles into the chair with a sign. "Give me a chance, Mr. Olsen. If you do your job well, then there will be a place for you here. And I do love giving people raises if they do the work."

Kara clenched her fists. She turned and stalked from the room, upset and on the verge of tears. Why did Lena sell?

The question haunted her the entire walk/flight to L-Corp, but when she tried to go past security, a guard stopped her.

"ID please."

"I'm Kara Danvers here to speak with Lena Luthor." She tugged out her wallet to show it. "Lena always lets me up."

The guard frowned. He glanced at his tablet. "You're not on her list. Let me contact her assistant."

Another guard grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the security line. Kara tugged her arm free, upset. What was happening?

The first guard returned. "Miss Huang says you may come up, but after this, you must go through her to set up a specific appointment."

Kara blinked, unable to fathom this development. Lena and her shared lunch or dinner here, and she'd never had to go through this prior. She'd just been waved through and gone up without any need for appointments.

Dread curdled in her stomach. Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to cry. There had to be an explanation. Lena wouldn't just throw her out like this, right?

The doors opened onto Lena's floor, and Kara walked up to Jess's desk. The Assistant glanced at her. "Jess? What -- what is going on? Is Lena okay?"

Jess pursed her lips, her expression not at all the open one she had prior, but one that studied Kara as if she was a problem to be solved. "Miss Luthor is at her desk. You have twenty minutes before her next meeting."

Jess was incredibly loyal to Lena, and despite asking two more times, Jess gave her no information. Only tapped her wristwatch.

Kara pushed open the doors and entered Lena's office. What once had been a lovely place for them to chat and eat, where Kara's paintings had once hung on the walls, the room had been stripped of all color.

White and grey adorned all the furniture, walls, and no paintings hung anywhere.

"Lena?" Kara didn't know what to make of her best friend. Lena wore a crisp navy blue suit, her hair in a tight ponytail, and her desk was cluttered with schematics and other paperwork. "Um, what's going on? I usually can just come up."

"Hmm?" Lena looked up, and her gaze fixed Kara with a piercing stare. "Hello to you too, Kara Danvers." She pushed her chair back and stood. "I am instituting changes here." When she smiled, it did not reach her eyes.

It was fake, and her scent wasn't the usual sweet scent. It held a touch of acidic, which Kara only smelled on those who were angry or close to a panic.

"Lena, please." Kara stepped up to her desk and reached out, but froze when Lena took a step back. "I -- I don't understand. Why did you sell Catco? Why didn't you tell me? Are you okay? What's wrong?" The words tumbled out, and desperation seared through her. "You know I'm always here for you!"

"Are you?" Lena raised an eyebrow. "Or just keeping tabs on me, the Luthor?"

"What?" Kara stared at Lena, stunned. "What does your last name have to do with anything? You're Lena."

"Indeed." Lena walked over to a white cabinet next to her white sofa. She poured scotch into a glass. "I sold Catco because I needed funds for a new project. One that requires expensive materials. Andrea Rojas gave me an excellent offer." She gave Kara another fake smile and sipped her scotch. "It's just business, Kara. Catco was an investment, now that investment must go elsewhere."

Kara shook her head. "But -- but you bought it to avoid this very situation. Andrea wants to do non-competing clauses in contracts. I wouldn't be able to do journalism ever if I decided to not work for her."

"Hmmm. That's just a business decision. She wants to retain her talent." Lena swirled the scotch in her glass, her eyes on the amber liquid. "And it is no longer my jurisdiction. The sell was finalized yesterday, Kara."

Kara stepped close to Lena and laid a hand on her arm. She felt Lena stiffen under touch, how her heartbeat skyrocketed, and the sharp intake of breath. Her acidic stench wove with another scent -- one that was far sweeter and warm, and one Kara had smelled often when they'd shared cuddles during movie nights.

"Lena," Kara said, gently, "I'm not here to condemn your decision. I wanted to know what happened. And if you need the sale profits to go toward a new venture, then great! Maybe I can help?"

"Help?" Lena repeated. Her brow furrowed, and her lips twitched downward. "What do you know of biophysics, Kara?"

Kara struggled with how to answer the question without giving away her heritage, but the truth was, there was no way she could explain without being honest about her heritage.

Without admitting she was an alien. She'd hid that for so long, tried so hard to keep folks from knowing her full heritage. The secret ate her up inside, filled her with shame and guilt, and more than anything, she wished she could erase that part of her.

To be just Kara with Lena, without any superhero duties, without any powers. Just the two of them existing as best friends, or maybe even more than that.

Lena raised her eyebrow as if challenging her, and Kara realized this was a test.

"I -- I work on science projects as a hobby," Kara said, haltingly. "I never shared this with anyone, Lena. Not even Alex." Earnest desperation filtered into her tone. "I hid it because... because ..." She trailed off unable to voice it. Her throat closed, and she felt like she was strangling herself, the secret the noose around her neck.

"Because what, Kara?" That raised eyebrow, the challenge in her voice, the stiffness to her posture, and her scent -- did she know Kara's secret? Did she find it abhorrent and was that why she shut Kara out like this?

She needed to be honest. To tell Lena the truth, but the words would not form. The fear of loss bound her to silence. So she said nothing.

"Kara, unless you produce a degree related to biophysics, I will not be needing your help on this project." Lena's voice turned stern. "Science hobbies are not job-worthy experience."

"It's more than just a hobby," Kara whispered. "And -- and my degree won't be accepted in most places here."

"That's a shame." Lena threw back the last of the scotch. "So what else do you need, Kara?"

"I was notified yesterday," Kara pushed the words out, even as dread twisted her stomach and left her wanting to puke, "that I won the Pulitzer's for my coverage of your brother and Red Daughter. I'm allowed to bring someone with me, and I -- I wondered if you'd like to come?"

"Hmm." Lena narrowed her eyes. "Give the details to my assistant. She knows my schedule best. If I'm free, I'll come." Again the fake smile curled her lips, her eyes a narrowed glare. "The article was exceptionally written. Congratulations, Kara."

Kara couldn't make sense of Lena's reply. Normally Lena would jump at the opportunity to join Kara at any event, and Lena had often asked Kara to come to many a gala as her 'date.'

"Lena," Kara said, desperately, "Please, what is it? What's wrong?" Fear and worry throttled her. "I know how hard grief is. But don't shut me out like this. I can help."

Anger reddened Lena's cheeks. "I don't need your pity, Kara."

"It's not! I've lost a lot of loved ones, Lena. Support from your family really does help." She lightly touched Lena's arm again. "You're part of my family. You always will be."

Tears shimmered in Lena's eyes. "Right, family." She poured another glass and stared into the amber liquid. "A family of liars, of half-truths. That's the only family I know."

"Lena," Kara dropped her hand to her side. Her secret threatened to crush her.

Kara was a liar. She'd lied again and again about Supergirl, hid her alien identity, and where did that leave her with Lena? Shame percolated through her sinews, and tears pricked her eyes. She desperately wanted to hold Lena close, to reassure her that she was loved, that Kara was here to always protect her.

But how could she if she failed to be honest?

"Tell me what you need," Kara said, unable yet again to voice her truth. "Please, tell me, and I'll do it."

Lena sighed. "Leave me alone for a bit." She sipped her amber liquid and sat down on the sofa. "And don't bother Jess about the Pulitzer's. I'll come. I promise."

This time the smile she gave Kara crinkled the edges of her eyes, but a deep sadness weighed on it. Her scent altered to a sadder profile, and her heartbeat back to a more steady pattern.

Or as steady as Lena's heartbeat could be. Kara could hear the slight murmur. It had been the first thing she'd memorized about Lena.

"Okay. For how long?"

"The award ceremony is a week away, yes?" Lena glanced at Kara and immediately looked toward her balcony. "I need the week to think and recover."

"Okay. Just let me know if you need me. I'm a phone call or text away, okay?"

Lena's sad smile returned to her lips, and she nodded.

Kara left with a heavy heart.

***

Kara spent the week close to a panic. Andrea handed out the new contracts with the warning that all needed to be signed by tomorrow at noon, and if any wished to resign, they'd need to sign a non-compete clause.

Then came the meeting, where Andrea listened to their pitches for thought-provoking, heavy investigative journalism, and dismissed most of them. Instead, she assigned pop pieces with clickbait titles.

"The world is changing," Andrea said in her announcement at the start of the company wide meeting. "We must change with it or fall into obscurity. I bought this company because of the hope to revitalize it for this new world. Starting today, half the investigative journalism team will be reassigned to other departments. People don't want to read long pieces anymore."

Kara listened with a growing dread.

James did not stay silent tough. "This is outrageous! Our investigative journalism defines Catco. We turned this company into a force to be reckoned with, and now you want to undo all that hard work?" He gestured to Kara. "We even have a Pulitzer award winner on staff!"

"Please," Andrea said with a wave of her hand. "She's not even here half the time. Don't think I haven't reviewed all of your files. Kara Danvers spends more time out of the office than she does doing her job. She has the least amount of articles than most of you, and yet she has a private office? I find it strange for her to hold so much privileges, when other employees work harder for less pay and less recognition. No, that too will change. Absenteeism will no longer be tolerated."

Andrea looked directly at Kara when she said last that sentence.

Kara stared, stunned. Each point Andrea made stuck like a dart to her heart. She hadn't realized how much privileges she'd had here, and the absenteeism? She couldn't avoid it sometimes due to her Supergirl duties. She'd always gotten every article she was assigned in on time, or at least she'd ask for an extension and Lena and James had always granted it.

"You don't understand any of us," James sneered. "You're going to destroy Catco, and I won't stand here and let you do it."

Andrea flicked her fingers at James as if to dismiss him. "Then leave. Just know if you resign, you will not be able to go to any other journalism outfit." Her smile didn't reach her eyes, and she lifted an eyebrow as if to challenge James.

He scowled. "So be it. I'm your best photographer. I'll take my talents to some other industry." He pivoted and stormed out of the room, and the door slammed behind him.

Silence descended on everyone seated around the table. Even the online component was silent.

Andrea let the silence drag before she stood and adjusted the camera. "All right, everyone. Expect an email in your inbox with your new assignments. If you have any qualms, feel free to schedule an appointment with my assistant. Meeting adjourned."

Kara sat in her chair long after Andrea and the others left.

Her family teetered on the edge of a precipice, and now Andrea had set her one work home on fire.

"Kara?" Nia gently touched her shoulder. "You okay?"

Kara took a deep breath and pushed away from the conference table. "I'm fine." She walked, woodenly to her desk, opened her laptop, and checked her inbox.

Her assignment was to write a fluff piece about the best cafes in town.

***

Kara dipped her paintbrush into the water cup and leaned back on her stool. The painting contrasted the landscape of Krypton with National City's skyline, and there at the center of the picture, Lena stood on her balcony, her face uplifted to the sky, where Kara hovered in plain clothes.

Maybe she couldn't push the words out, but what if she gave Lena this painting? What if she tried to tell her in other ways?

It's not the first time she'd tried. Over and over, she'd struggled with when to share the secret. With when to burden Lena and likely put her in even more danger.

How many attempted assassinations could Kara thwart before one finally hit Lena for good?

No, Kara couldn't let that happen. She kept the secret to protect Lena from more harm, right?

The sky in the painting looked bleak, empty. She dipped her paintbrush into several warm hues and painted spots of stars and a crescent moon.

But it all felt so flat.

Frustrated, she threw her paintbrush and it embedded itself in the side of her counter, the wood splintered.

Lena was hurting, and Kara was here, painting like a fool. As if any of this could ever fix things. She desperately wanted to fly to Lena's side. To wrap her up and tell her how much she was loved, that Kara would do anything for her.

A knock sounded at her door before the click of a key and the twist of the doorknob. Alex stepped into the entryway. "Kara?" She shut the door behind her. "You okay? I heard about Catco from Nia."

Kara stomped to the sofa and dropped onto it, her face in her hands. "Andrea is ruining it." Pain coated her voice. "Catco's a home to me, Alex, and it's just all wrong. I don't understand what's happening."

"So Lena did sell it." Alex sat on the sofa next to her. "Do you know why?"

"She needed the sale to invest in a new project," Kara said, tonelessly. She dropped her hands into her lap, and flicked a piece of candy off the TV table. It flew and embedded itself in the wall next to the flatscreen.

"Huh. That's weird." Alex frowned and grabbed a napkin. She sweeped up the rest of the candy before Kara could flick another piece. "She bought it for you I thought."

"She said it was a good investment," Kara protested, weakly.

"Right, you two keep saying that, but everyone knows that's not true." Alex rolled up the napkin and dropped it into a used cup. "She had no experience leading a media empire, didn't even like journalism, and yet she bought it after you came to her for help saving it? Then she leads it despite not having any training? And don't even with the glances you two kept giving each other when you thought the other wasn't looking."

Every bit of evidence made Kara sink deeper into the sofa. She wished it'd swallow her up forever.

"No, Lena didn't buy it for anyone but you. So whatever is going on?" Alex tapped her fingers against her leg, and for the first time in a long time, she looked reluctant to speak. Usually she just bluntly said the truth that Kara needed to hear, but that hesitation fueled Kara's growing anxiety.

Alex knew something was wrong with Lena too.

"I don't know what to do," Kara whispered.

Alex sighed. "Don't push things. Whatever happened Lena will tell you when she's ready, okay?"

Kara pressed a hand to her face. "She asked me to leave her be for a week. But she promised to come to the Pulitzer's."

"See? That's a good sign." Alex's comforting felt bizarre to Kara. "She cares, and she did just lose her brother. Us humans work through our grief in different ways. It'll be okay, I'm sure."

Kara wasn't sure who Alex meant to convince. "I need to tell her the truth, but I can't seem to do it. The words won't come." She jumped to her feet and walked over to her canvas. "I thought, maybe, if I gave her this instead?"

Alex turned. "It could help, but you need to tell her directly, Kara, to avoid misunderstandings. Believe me, those can ruin a relationship." She grimaced, likely reminded of her relationship with Maggie and how increasing misunderstandings eventually broke it apart.

Kara didn't know what to say to that. The truth stared at her from the painting.

She was a coward. A selfish coward. She'd wanted Lena as her best friend, her cuddle buddy, and maybe something more without ever allowing herself to fully commit.

She was lying to herself. Lying to Lena. Lying to everyone.

She tore the canvas in half. "Fine," she said. "I got a week to figure out how to tell her. And I'll do it directly. Happy?"

"It's not me you need to say that too, Kara," Alex said, gently. "Do this how you and Lena need it."

"What if she rejects me?" That wretched fear had Kara pacing in a growing panic. "What if she hates me? I've lied to her for years. She hates lying."

"Kara. Stop." Alex caught her arm. "Maybe give her a chance? She might surprise you."

Kara knew Alex was just trying to comfort her, but it brought her no comfort. All she could think of is how closed off Lena had been, how she'd been barred from accessing Lena freely, and how Catco was in the hands of someone hellbent on ripping apart all of her and James' hard work.

***

On Krypton, one's house was integral to one's life. That family bound a person forever, and building up the house was as important as the work within one's guild.

These thoughts wove through Kara as she headed to the Art Museum where the Pulitzer's Award Ceremony would be hosted.

For Kara, on Earth where guilds and houses didn't truly exist, she'd created her own family. One built upon a tenuous foundation, where half-truths and lies cracked and tilted the family she'd built atop it. Her house on Earth hid in the dark, loomed in the shadows, crept forward in disguise.

Kara Zor El Danvers was a fraud, wasn't she?

She thought of Jindah Kol Rozz. "You know nothing of the nature of destruction. You are a child, living in light. But there is darkness in all things. In every soul you know. Who will it take?"

Was she a child living in light?

The secret suffocated her. That was her darkness, her pain, her fear, her loss. Coiled deep within her heart, and she'd done this willingly to herself and her family.

She'd set them on this dark journey of lies.

She thinks of the alien detector device Lena had been so excited to show her. How Lena thought it'd somehow bring more transparency to the world, but instead had ended its production to make imagers instead.

What if Kara had not sabotaged it and just relied on her instincts to trust Lena?

Would Lena have accepted her? They could have been a powerhouse together, a Super and a Luthor working to better the world for all people. She could maybe even work on science projects with Lena, where she didn't hide that part of her.

Because she'd been genetically modified to do science, and yet all she had was her Supergirl suit and journalism.

She'd strayed so far from her role in House of El.

The door to the museum opened at her approach. Her footsteps echoed against the tiles. She smiled and nodded at the greetings of the hosts, of other attendees. Workers led her through the atrium and into the large auditorium with a stage at its back, heavy red curtains hiding it from view. Tables were scattered across the floor with high stools, and paintings and plants hung from the walls. The ceiling held a massive chandelier, and the soft yellow glow permeated the space with light.

A light Kara darkened with her lies.

Alex, Kelly, Nia, Brainy, and J'onn were already here. Kara walked toward them, her heart in her throat. Her eyes scanned the rest of the guests, and she paused at the sight of Sam. She leaned against a pillar by one of the paintings. Her suit grey and white, and her eyes scanned the party nonchalantly.

What was Sam doing here?

Sam caught her eye, but she didn't smile. Her piercing look seared through Kara, as if Sam demanded Kara do something. Sam broke the eye contact first and looked up at the balcony above the stage.

Following Sam's gaze, Kara froze, her eyes widening. Lena stood there like a goddess, her eyes locked on her tablet. She wore a simple maroon suit, her hair in loose waves around her face. Beautiful and magnificent.

Kara didn't deserve her.

Brainy pulled away from Nia and the group and bounded over to Kara. "I have a wonderful surprise." He pulled out a small silver container, pressed his finger inside it, and held it up. Kara couldn't see anything there. "I have crafted you a new suit based on Lena's designs." He tapped the side of Kara's glasses. "Now when you whip off your glasses, the suit will materialize over your clothes."

"Oh, thanks, Brainy." Her stomach clenched at the mention of Lena's contribution to the new suit. "I'll try it out after the ceremony."

Brainy nodded. "Let me know if there are any complications. Congratulations, Kara. You're doing excellent work."

Kara wasn't so sure. Not anymore.

Not since her daily texts to Lena stopped.

Not since Lena sold Catco.

Not since Lena shut her out and blocked her entrance to L-Corp.

Not since the foundation of her family fractured under the pressure and weight of her secret.

No, she wasn't doing excellent work.

She was a coward. A selfish, coward, and she couldn't let this continue.

Alex, Kelly, and the others tried to talk to Kara, but she couldn't engage them in conversation. She did everything she could to excuse herself, and she hurried for the balcony.

Lena had stepped away from the balcony's railing and through red curtains to a hallway and stairwell for the lower stage.

Kara caught her there.

"Kara!" Lena looked up in surprise. "Lovely seeing you here." Her smile was warm, and her eyes crinkled. Yet her scent held that acidic tone, not at all the sweet one she usually had. No, something was still wrong. "I admit, I hoped to surprise you. I asked to assist the ceremony since, you know, we worked hard together to find my brother, so as your best friend, I offered to to be the one..."

Panic wove through Kara as Lena continued to speak about her plan to present Kara with the award.

"Lena please!" Kara interrupted in desperation. "You can't give it. Not until…" She took off her glasses, breathed in deeply, and blurted the truth. "I'm Supergirl!" Words tumbled from Kara's mouth in an avalanche. "And I'm so, so sorry. I should have told you ages ago, but I loved being just Kara with you. And I was afraid to lose you, and I can't lose you."

Lena froze, her eyes wide, but she said nothing.

Fear swept into terror that this was the end of her friendship, and Kara couldn't bear that. She leaned toward Lena and spread her hands in anguish. "So I thought I could be just Kara with you, and I convinced myself I wouldn't lose you then…. but I've been a fool. And I've been selfish. If I could just be Kara with you, if I could just…" Kara struggled to hold back her tears. "I've been lying to myself too. I thought I was protecting you, but I've been hurting you, haven't I? And I can't bear that. Gosh, Lena, I'm so sorry."

Lena said nothing. Her mouth briefly parted, but no words exited. She only stared at Kara as tears brimmed in her eyes.

"Lena," Kara said, anguished, "Please say something."

And yet, Lena said nothing.

The host announced behind them the ceremony would start soon.

Lena stepped around Kara, silently, and walked away.

***

It takes over an hour to stop Midnight, the newest alien to try to kill Kara and her family. She'd saved Lena from Midnight's black hole blasts. The suit Brainy made -- had pants! -- and worked like a charm, able to deflect far more energy and punches than her prior one.

Armor had been stitched into every layer, likely Lena's contribution. She felt as if Lena was hugging her with the suit.

Once Alex and J'onn secured Midnight and clean-up began, Kara searched the evacuees. She found Sam and Kelly with Lena, but they had ducked into one of Lena's towncars.

Sam turned to look back over the crowd. Her gaze caught Kara's, and she frowned, her eyebrows furrowed. Kara dodged around several paramedics tending to wounded, but as she neared the towncar, Sam shook her head.

Ducking inside, Sam shut the door and the towncar pulled away.

Kara watched it go, confused and worried. She could hear all three of their heartbeats. Kellly and Sam's was a steady, healthy beat.

But Lena's was not. Weaker than normal, the murmur more pronounced.

She thought of Lena's speech. How she'd extolled Kara's honesty, truthfulness, and altruistic virtues.

But that was all wrong. Kara wasn't honest. She hadn't been truthful to Lena or Kelly or Sam.

She'd hid her true self, only allowed it out in brief glimpses during game nights, walks in parks, or jokes over lunch. Only Alex and Lena had seen those true glimpses, but of the two, only Alex knew the full story.

A hand touched her shoulder. "Supergirl?"

She turned to see Nia.

"We need your help moving some debris. Sorry." She glanced toward the street, where the towncar vanished from view the intersection.

"Okay." Kara put aside her worries and got back to work.

No matter what happened after today, Kara would not let Lena go without a fight. Lena was part of her family, and Kara did not give up on family.

She had to have hope that somehow, someway, Lena and her could work through this dark chapter.

And Lena herself had said during the ceremony, "I'll always be your friend."

Kara held that sentiment close and chose to hope.

To hope that everything really will be okay between them.

Because if not, Kara feared she'd fall deeper into darkness, and finally be what Jindah Kol Rozz had predicted. "But there is darkness in all things. In every soul you know."

She hadn't fully understood Jindah, but as she turned to follow Nia, she finally understood.

Kara Zor El Danvers believed herself to be good. To be a child of light, to be a fighter of justice and hope.

But the darkness of her lies casted long shadows, poisoning everything she touched.

As she worked to repair the Museum, Kara vowed to never lie to Lena ever again. She'd do whatever it took to repair this and rebuild their foundation better and stronger than before.

#kara danvers #supercorp #lena luthor #supergirl #supercorptober #supercorptober2024 #supercorp fic #This is Kara's side of the tale from L-Corp and chilled Scotch by the way

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