#valley topography

[tickleinvaforums]

High Knob Observation Tower:

A brand new observation tower with a long history opened in 2014 atop High Knob Recreation Area. At an elevation of 4,223 feet, the original tower built in the 30s burned down 40 years later. The new tower boasts panoramic views of mountaintops in 5 states: Virginia, Tennessee, North Carolina, Kentucky, and West Virginia. It is unique to Virginia in containing both Appalachia Plateau and Ridge and Valley topography, although it is largely a karstic landform of the Ridge and Valley Province. High Knob stretches across portions of southern Wise County, northern Scott County, and the northeastern tip of Lee County. The marker at the summit of Lookout Mountain claims seven states may be viewed from the site. From the "Rock City" point, a marker claims that seven U.S. states can be seen: Tennessee, Kentucky, Virginia, South Carolina, North Carolina, and Georgia, High Knob Observation Tower (Located in Wise County).

[jasonguilbeau]

Theater - Graubünden - Schweiz

[linguenuvolose]

Thinking about her: Doggerland and also the bottom of the ocean

[ribzinc]

Grande Cache, Alberta, Canada

[the-good-spartan]

Map making. Way to spend a whole day when I should have been writing instead!

[kumrattourism]

Discover the Serenity of Badgoi Top – A Nature Retreat

Escape to Badgoi Top for a Nature-Filled Retreat Nestled in the heart of the northern region of Pakistan, Badgoi Top is an untouched gem offering serene meadows, fresh mountain air, and a tranquil environment. It’s the perfect destination for travelers looking to escape the fast pace of everyday life. Whether you’re hiking through its scenic trails or simply soaking in the breathtaking views,…

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

𝓓𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓣𝓾𝓻𝓷 𝓞𝓷 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽

You turn the lights out everytime the two of you have sex. Even before your clothes come off you turn the lights out. He knows it's not him because you marvel at his body as he takes his shirt off, his muscles rippling under the fabric as he slowly uncovers himself. Your eyes glimmer and mouth hangs open, and you marvel. But he cannot say the same for you. He has never seen you. 

Part of him understands that nudity might scare people. Not just another's, but rather oneself’s. Part of him recognises that with a body that the modern bibles deemed unworthy, finding the ability to accept that someone longs to see it is hard. This part knows the process takes time… 

But there's another part. The one that in the darkness, runs his hands down the soft flesh, fingers digging into the fatty thighs, palms pressing into your rounded tummy, lips closing around the little nub of your nipple while the rest of his face squishes into your breast. The part of him that has the violent topography of your body mapped out in his fingertips, whispers to his eyes of your beauty. Of a lush land of hills and peaks, valleys and crevices, all waiting to be explored, waiting to be admired. 

He longs to see the way your mouth falls open when he pushes his cock into your tight hole. Longs to know the contrasts between the colour of his skin and yours when his fingers wrap around your throat. Craves the knowledge that is granted by sight – sight that he is robbed of as you once again, reach out, and turn off the light…

But, a patient man knows, the greatest gift lies in comfort. So whenever you are comfortable – no matter how long it takes – he will reach out, and turn the light back on… 

— Daichi, Asahi, Iwaizumi, AONE, Ushijima, NANAMI, Geto, Megumi, MAKOTO, Rin

[cappadociab]

BALLOONSCANNER - MEGA+ (3)

Soaring Over Cappadocia: Booking Your Hot Air Balloon Adventure

Cappadocia, with its dreamlike landscapes, is a destination that captures the hearts of travelers worldwide. One of the most iconic and enchanting experiences you can have in this Turkish wonderland is a hot air balloon ride. If you're ready to embark on this unforgettable journey, balloonscanner.com is your go-to platform for seamless bookings and extraordinary adventures.

Cappadocia Hot Air Balloon Rides: The allure of Cappadocia hot air balloon rides lies in the unique topography of the region. Imagine floating gently above fairy chimneys, lunar-like valleys, and ancient cave dwellings as the sun bathes the landscape in hues of gold and pink. It's a spectacle that must be experienced to be truly appreciated.

Booking Your Balloon Adventure: Balloonscanner.com simplifies the process of booking your Cappadocia hot air balloon adventure. The user-friendly interface allows you to choose from various ride options, whether you prefer a standard group experience or a more intimate private ride. Booking in advance ensures you secure your spot and guarantees an unforgettable journey above Cappadocia's captivating scenery.

Unveiling the Wonders of Cappadocia: Your hot air balloon adventure is not just a ride; it's a voyage into the heart of Cappadocia's wonders. As you ascend into the sky, you'll witness the surreal beauty of the landscape unfolding beneath you. The sun rising or setting, casting an ethereal glow on the unique rock formations, creates a truly magical experience.

Tips for an Unforgettable Experience:

Dress Comfortably: Wear layers as the mornings can be cool.

Bring Your Camera: Capture the breathtaking views of Cappadocia's unique terrain.

Arrive Early: Be punctual to make the most of the pre-dawn or sunset experience.

Book Your Adventure Today: Ready to make your Cappadocia dream a reality? Visit balloonscanner.com to book your hot air balloon ride and prepare for an experience that will stay etched in your memory forever. Let the winds of Cappadocia carry you on an adventure like no other.

Embark on a journey that transcends the ordinary - book balloon Cappadocia hot air balloon ride now and create memories that will last a lifetime.

[upinteriors]

Casa Vargem Grande by Juliana Ayako and Zebulun Arquitetura

Casa Vargem Grande deals with topography through the creation of a continuous spatiality that unfolds over the slope of the land.

The house is divided into 5 staggered slabs connected by a continuous and open staircase-corridor that guarantees the maintenance of the view that crosses the land from the front to the back, where there is the condominium's forest reserve. The views vary along the percouse throughout the staggering slabs, unfolding at times towards the base of the valley, at times towards the reserve, and at times towards the peak of the mountains.

The module of the BTC brick and the slope of the terrain determined the size of the slabs and the difference in elevation between them. In this way, the project was measured through rows and blocks instead of centimeters and meters.

The lateral facades are blind and structural in BTC brick - with the exception of a small window - creating an axis that connects the reserve at the back of the house to the valley located in front. These plans guarantee the creation of an interior courtyard which the house faces, closing off the dense context on its sides.

To generate the feeling of a single-story staggered house, a lightweight metal roof rests on the structural BTC walls of the side facades and the round metal pillars of the front and back facades. This continuous roof makes an inflection in the height of the third slab, opening the view towards the top of the valley and creating a mezzanine.

The direct dialogue between the house and the topography and the use of concrete and BTC blocks reflect the weight of the work. The building is placed on the ground, rests on it and ensures that all bedrooms, living room and kitchen have access to the patio and external areas. At the bottom of each slab, the construction touches the ground where the continuous beams-columns meet. Its front, always elevated, guarantees the downward flow of water, avoids major cuts in the land and allows the passage of some small animals that move between the houses.

Design: Juliana Ayako, Zebulun Arquitetura Location: Teresópolis, State of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil Year: 2023 Photography: Federico Cairoli

[livingforstars]

A View from Venus: Rift Valley - June 24th, 1996.

"Colour information from the Soviet Venera landers and radar data from the Magellan spacecraft were used to construct this striking perspective view of the Venusian landscape. In this computer generated image, the vertical scale has been exagerated. In the foreground is the edge of a rift valley created by faulting in the crust of Venus. The valley runs all the way to the base of Gula Mons, a 2 mile high volcano seen here on the right, some 450 miles in the distance. On the left is another volcano, Sif Mons. Using radar to pierce the dense clouds continuously shrouding the face of Venus, Magellan was able to explore over 98% of the Venusian surface, revealing a diverse and tantalising topography."

[thirteenthdoor]

Ruan Nanzhu is always wearing a single silver ring on his right hand, but it's not always the same single silver ring, and it's not always on the same finger.

Ring #1 shows up right out of the gate in the Snow Village. This one's on his middle finger. It's a simple ring that almost looks like two slimmer rings put together, with a little valley in the middle. It's actually one of the least visible rings of the bunch, because he's wearing gloves much of the time.

He's wearing Ring #2 when he shows up to menace Ling Jiushi in the middle of the night and bring him back to Obsidian. It's on the thinner side, smooth and knobby, and has flat-ish sides. It's hard to tell, but it may be a hexagon, or at least hexagon-ish. This one's on his index finger, whice is usually Nanzhu's finger of choice for rings.

Fitcher's Bird brings another slender one that's back on his middle finger, and it's similar enough to the Snow Door ring that I'm just going to call it Ring #1 again. I can't be certain, though, because this ring is so hard to get a good view of; almost everything Nanzhu does in this door that merits a hand close-up, he does with his ringless left hand. When he catches the egg, you can see that the ring is adjustable, something that's going to be true for several of his rings.

Outside the door, he's still wearing the same suit, so I'm just assuming we're sticking with Ring #1 here.

He has a couple more costume changes after this, but we don't get to see his hands until he's in Lin Qiushi's bedroom, menacing him heterosexually with a kaleidoscope. It's definitely chunkier than Ring #1, and it's on a different finger than Ring #2, and since he's wearing the same thing he wears in the Sister Drum Door...

...Ring #3 it is! On his middle finger, this one's not only the widest one we've seen yet, it's also the one with the most raised texture. And it almost fooled me into believing that this is two separate rings, but it's not -- it's just that it looks very flat from some angles. One side is largely even, while the other works up into a peak that points in the direction of his fingertip.

Back out of the doors again, it's time to meet Wu Qi and Ring #4, which we're going to see a lot. This one's an index-finger ring, and it's got a neat topography where the smooth pieces look almost disconnected.

It's not the only one he's wearing outside between these doors, though. By the time Li Dongyuan calls to complain about how badly his plan to spy on Obsidian failed, Nanzhu is wearing Ring #5, which is another one that's going to come up a lot. This one's rough all over, with a texture that makes me think of wood.

To be continued!

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

Following you was the best decision I've ever made. Where else am I going to learn things like the types of cacti shown in the Anderfels in game are not ecologically accurate? I am being 100% genuine here I love it when you contribute random knowledge in lore discussions, best parts of my day when it happens

LMAO thank you anon this is very kind. the truth is I am simply an ecologist who cannot turn that part of my brain off even when i know better. like i KNOW the reason why there's cacti there is because someone just picked them from a list of vegetation assets to populate the region with but also 😭 😭 😭 ITS TOO WET THEY WOULD DIE

but yeah specifically i double majored in biology and geology in undergrad, then worked in a plant genetics lab during undergrad & the first year after I graduated, then I moved out west to do desert based fieldwork and started adding in a lot of soil science. now i have a masters in soil microbiology and am currently weeping my way through a PhD (dont ask about that one grad school is Hell).

but YEAH MAN specifically i've been living in and researching deserts for the last decade of my life so i'm always extra excited about those in games lmao. I'm the Hissing Waste's number 1 stan they RULE everyone else is just a COWARD who HATES RUNNING ACROSS HUGE MAPS FOR HOURS. have you instead considered taking a job in Death Valley so when you run through the dunes for 10 hours a day in 110º weather you can console yourself with the thought "at least there isn't a phoenix attacking me right now. the worst thing that's happened to me today is falling into a rodent burrow"????? o those were the days. i used to write all my fanfic by headlamp in my sleeping bag while listening to coyotes get alarmingly close, and cursing the moon for how bright everything gets with light colored sand. If there were two moons in real life i WOULD be mad enough to condemn one to the otherside of the earth for 100 years so i could get some sleep too actually.

here have some drylands ive worked in while i'm being nostalgic

worldbuilding is my favorite favorite favorite part of fantasy/sci fi and i know not everyone has my background in how the actual "world" part works. so i don't condemn people who have gone into writing and arts fields for not understanding these things when they build maps but i really cannot turn off the part of my brain that opens a book or game map and instantly sees they have made the rivers 1. go uphill 2. diverge midway through (not a thing) and 3. in places that would make no sense given topography, mountains, etc that would impact weather & rainfall. only my TRUEST AND MOST WIZENED OG FOLLOWERS will remember how much i wept trying to map out the plate tectonics of Thedas in order to explain what the fuck the mountain ranges are doing what they are.

anyway lots of people have followed me in the last couple months so thanks for this excuse to make an intro post with a lil more about me :)

[frodo-with-glasses]

More Reading Thoughts: Three Is Company

Frodo calling it “Our Birthday” is making me feel things. Oh would you look at the time, it’s Crying About Bilbo and Frodo O’Clock again TT~TT

It’s honestly such a mood that Frodo says to himself “I’m following Bilbo!” so he doesn’t have to think about “I’m carrying a thing of great evil into danger and unseen ends”. Me too, Frodo. Me too.

“And see that Sam Gamgee does not talk. If he does, I really shall turn him into a toad.” 🤣

“Bilbo went to find a treasure, there and back again; but I go to lose one, and not return, as far as I can see.” OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME—

Also “and not to return” is so heartbreaking, especially knowing that by the time he gets to Mordor Frodo is fully expecting to die at the end of his journey TT^TT

“It may be your task to find the Cracks of Doom.” JUST DROP THAT FORESHADOWING RIGHT THERE LIKE IT’S NOTHING, HUH, TOLKIEN??

Also teehee crack

Yes I am a twelve year old boy on the inside, moving on

The local shade towards the Sackville-Bagginses is HYSTERICAL

“Ah yes Merry is looking out for a house for me in Buckland.” INSTANCE #2 OF MERRY BEING ORGANIZATIONALLY GOATED

I’m honestly very impressed by how neatly Tolkien crafted Frodo’s backstory and interwove it into the story. The idea that he’s going back to Buckland where he grew up really does seem credible! None of the hobbits would suspect a thing! I almost have to wonder which came first in Tolkien’s mind, Frodo’s backstory or the fact that he’d need a good excuse to go East. It’s so well-crafted and it makes my writer brain happy.

F in the chat for Folco Boffin; we know your name and nothing else about you

Frodo draining the last of the wine like “lol at least the Sackville-Bagginses won’t get THIS!” is very funny to me

I have said it before, I’ll say it again, Frodo looking in the mirror and going “geez I’ve gotten fat” will NEVER NOT BE FUNNY

“Frodo did not offer [Lobelia] any tea.” I hereby name you Frodo Sassville-Baggins.

Aww, the Gaffer agreed to Sam going to Crickhollow to work for Frodo!

If only he knew just how far he was really going

“…though it did not console him for the prospect of having Lobelia as a neighbour.” o7 for the Gaffer, everybody

And they had tea by themselves and left the dishes for Lobelia 🤣 FRODO SASSVILLE-BAGGINS

“‘Coming, sir!’ came the answer from far within, followed soon by Sam himself, wiping his mouth. He had been saying farewell to the beer-barrel in the cellar.” LOL

Also I can’t blame him, knowing what he’s walking into

“He waved his hand, then turned and (following Bilbo, if he had known it) hurried after Peregrin down the garden-path.” OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE—

Frodo, whining: "My bag is so heavy" Sam, lying: "I could carry more, sir!" Pippin: "Oh no you don't, let him suffer"

Honestly the dynamic of this trio is super underrated LOL

I'm honestly not sure whether "well, we all like walking in the dark" is meant to be sarcastic or genuine—the way it's repeated later on makes me think it's genuine, but I can't be sure—so just to be safe I'm bringing the Frodo Sassville-Baggins score up to 2.5

I'm taking the time to read the walking bits slowly now, and honestly, the way Tolkien describes the countryside of the Shire is so beautiful. I want to go there, and I want to walk there, and I want to see what the hobbits are seeing. Every little piece of nature and topography elicits an emotion; from the enclosed safety of Hobbiton, cradled in its cozy little valley, to the great fir tree standing guard over the hobbits as they sleep, to the road winding endlessly on before them, promising still more work and beautiful scenery and adventures to come. Is this slow reading? Yes. But I love it so much.

Frodo wakes up and the first thing he does is grumble to himself about his back and neck. He really is an old man. I love him.

Honestly this entire scene is comedy gold

Frodo: "Wake up, hobbits! It's a beautiful morning." Pippin, a literal teenager: "What's so beautiful about it?" ROFLOL

Pippin, literally out in the middle of nowhere: "Sam, draw a bath!"

And for that, Frodo steals his blankets and makes him roll over. Frodo Sassville-Baggins score: 3.5

Pippin: "Water! Where's the water?" Frodo: "I don't keep water in my pockets!" SASSVILLE-BAGGINS SCORE: 4.5

And then he makes Pippin come get the water with him, since he wants it so badly. I love Exasperated Older Sibling Frodo and I wish we got to see so much more of it.

Pippin, after Frodo randomly bursts into poetry: "Wow, was that Bilbo's poetry, or yours? It's kind of a downer."

I'm so glad they kept the "it's dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door" line in the movies, because it really is so good.

Sam's canonically good hearing returns!

Frodo suggesting they prank Gandalf for being late is honestly so cute lol

Twice in this chapter we get the eucatastrophe of Frodo just barely not putting on the Ring, right at the last second. The first time, the Black Rider just walks off on his own, and the second time the Elves show up and scare him off. I will praise Frodo's virtues 'till Spring turns into Winter, but I think this is clear evidence right from the beginning that Frodo was not, and could not, be saved from the temptation of the Ring by any virtue of his own. He is saved; he does not save himself. All of which is honestly very Christian of Tolkien.

Pippin, to Frodo: "All right, keep your secrets!"

I love the walking song. I might do a revised recording of it, if you guys will tolerate my singing voice again X-D

Can we just acknowledge how bad*ss it is that Frodo sneaks up and spies on a Black Rider, just out of curiosity?? Like, I know this is more a feat of stupidity than it is of courage, but given everything we know about them by the end of the book, that is honestly WICKED cool.

Sam, having to be dragged back by his arms: "ELVES! ELVES!"

GILDOR!!

GILDOR MY UNDERRATED BESTIE

I can't wait to draw Gildor. He's gonna be so PRETTY

"But we have no need of other company, and hobbits are so dull" is so funny tho

The Elves, with all the love in their hearts: "You can't sit with us, you're boring!"

FINROD MY MAN

I have not read the Silmarillion, but I know enough about it to know that Finrod is the G.O.A.T.

The Elves: "You're being followed by Black Riders?? Okay you're coming with us now"

Frodo speaking the High-elven tongue like a NERD

I love him

And Gildor immediately like "LOL y'all watch your language, the babies can understand us!" I love him dearly

....Okay wait I have a thought about the hobbits walking with the elves until they nearly fall asleep on their feet. A thought about soldiers and Tolkien's experience in war. Wait. I'm gonna have to make a post about this.

Eyyyy it's the Turin constellation!

Something about the Elven hall did indeed become a core memory for young Lady Glasses. I spent quite a few years building a fantasy world that would capture that sense of mysticism and wonder. Just like Sam and Pippin, I never really remembered the details, but the emotion stuck with me, and it enchanted my imagination.

The Elves bringing out a Thanksgiving feast and saying "sorry we don't have better food" is like going over to your friend's immaculately cleaned house and them saying "sorry for the mess"

Frodo speaking the Elves' language and charming them all is so cute

Sam falling asleep at Frodo's feet as he talks to Gildor is SO CUTE

“At last Frodo asked the question that was nearest to his heart: ‘Tell me, Gildor, have ever you seen Bilbo since he left us?’” OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT—

"My faithful Sam" UGH THE FEELS

Gildor: "But it is said: 'Do not meddle in the affairs of Wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger.'" Frodo: "And it is also said, 'Go not to the Elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes.'" HAHAHA GETTIM FRODO

SASSVILLE-BAGGINS SCORE: 5.5

Gildor saying "you don't need to understand the Black Riders, just stay away from them" is honestly very Christian of Tolkien too. The best spiritual warfare advice I've ever heard is "don't try to understand demons; just get as close to your Protector".

Anyway Gildor complimenting Frodo is very cute and that is all

[rescuebabiesau]

The Shifting Wastes (GOTP AU)

So in my GOTP AU, there is the Shifting Wastes, a portion of the planet's surface which is constantly shifting and altering its topography. It's well outside of the traditional cities, because it was practically impossible to build permanent structures there.

This is perfect for the Predacons to take control over, as they do not live in solid, permanent structures. In fact, the Predacon Colony led by Predaking discover they actually have a deep instinct to almost constantly be on the move.

Predaking guides them through the region via flight and traversing mountains and valleys, resting for periods and then moving on when the topography no longer suits them. They also find that the topographical shifts are in a cycle— the area that was mountain will become flat, then a valley, and then flat, and then a mountain again over a traceable pattern.

As such, the predacons migrate, knowing that certain "Dens" will exist again at certain places, and by the time the den reappears, the energon flowing through it will have refreshed.

That's not to say that they don't have problems, though. A number of small insecticon hives also inhabit the more stable portions of the territory, which combat the predacons for energon and other resources. The insecticons still outnumber the predacons significantly, but the predacons have individual size to combat this.

For the most part, the cybertronians avoid the Shifting Wastes and let the predacons have their personal space. No point in aggravating the third faction if they don't have to.

[thus-spoke-lo]

Pain Management // Trafalgar Law x afab!reader // NSFW/18+

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Series Masterlist // AO3 Link // Playlist

Chapter 9: Long-Term Side Effects, Pt. II

Chapter Summary: The walls that separate you from Law are finally coming tumbling down, and the aching, yearning, and wanting that has kept you both utterly possessed by each other reaches a fever pitch. But what comes after when there is both nothing left to say, and so much that is left unsaid?

Chapter CW: afab reader, no pronouns used; gendered pet names [ex. "good girl"]; angst; oral sex [reader receiving]; unprotected vaginal intercourse; creampie

WC: 4.7k

You moved your hands to the sides of Law’s face, palms settling in the hollows of his cheeks, thumbs gently caressing the contours of his cheekbones, trying to commit the topography of his peaks and valleys to memory. The tip of his nose was pressed to yours, his soft lips grazing you with feather-light touches, every trace of a kiss feeling like it was both the first and the last. Your eyes drifted shut as you savored every lingering sensation, just in case he changed his mind, just in case you lost the nerve to pursue what you both knew you wanted, just in case you were somehow pulled apart and set adrift from each other once more.

Law sucked and bit at your lower lip, taking it between his teeth, then soothing it with his tongue before he plunged it inside your mouth. Every kiss grew more urgent, more possessive, like he needed to claim every part of you as his, starting in earnest with your swollen lips. His longing for you felt like it would eclipse your own as his hands lowered, strong fingers digging into the soft plush of your hips through your sweats; he pressed you down against his pelvis, and you felt a growing hardness beneath you, straining against the thick fabric of his jeans. You would have gladly continued to grind against him if that’s what he demanded, seeking release in the comfort of his lap, held down by a bruising grip. But you both needed more, needed to find that connection that you’d chased after again and again, the one that was always just out of reach, hidden behind the barriers that walled him in.

“Let’s go to bed, needy girl,” Law cooed in that honey-sweet tone as he nipped at your lower lip. “I think you want something else from me.”

Moving was torture, every nerve and muscle shouting at you to stay joined to him, to stay spread out across his steely thighs. Everything felt so tenuous, as though if you let each other go, even for a moment, even just long enough to move to the mattress so you could take what you needed from each other, that it would all fade away into nothing, leaving you yearning and empty again. You lowered yourself to the bed and he followed, kneeling down on the floor in front of you, slotting himself between your parted thighs to feed from the sweetness of your mouth again.

Your shirt was quickly discarded, his hands now free to caress the soft outlines of your form, palms exploring the expanse of your body, muttered words falling from his lips—how perfect you felt, how beautiful you were, how you were more than he ever dreamed. His mouth drifted across your neck as he cupped your breasts in his hands, lightly kneading and squeezing, his thumbs making gentle movements over your nipples until he earned a quiet moan from you, then another, and another.

“I know what you need,” he whispered into your collarbone as you huffed a sigh; his hands lowered to your waist, and he tugged at the waistband of your sweatpants. “Lift.”

You raised your hips just enough for him to slide them down your lower body, yanking them off and tossing them to the side. Law groaned softly at the sight before him, the thin strip of cotton between your legs barely covering anything, your pubic hair visible on either side, and a darkened, damp spot forming in the middle. He leaned down and nosed at your clothed slit, the heat of his breath penetrating the fabric.

“So, this is all mine now, huh?” he asked as he inhaled you, his eyes closing, his tattooed fingers gripping your thighs every time you filled his lungs.

“All yours,” you sighed, leaning back on your palms to watch how intoxicated he was becoming off your scent, looking like a man possessed. He pressed the tip of his tongue down on the thin fabric that shielded your clit, and you covered your mouth to keep the sordid noise that crept up your throat from spilling into the room.

“Do you know what you do to me?” he moaned into you, his teeth tugging at your underwear, nipping at your clothed flesh. “I just want to fucking ruin you.”

You already have, a million times over, you think while you run your fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face so you could watch as he licked and kissed you through your soaked panties. “You don’t have to get me off again.”

“And what if I want to?” he smirked, pulling aside your underwear and slipping one, then two fingers inside you, softly stroking your pulsing walls. “You said this was all mine, so that means I can make you cum whenever I want now, right?”

You groaned. “I did say it was yours, didn’t I?”

“All mine.” Law greedily lapped at your clit, while his fingers thrust deep, plunging all the way to the knuckle. It wasn’t even an ache that you felt for him now—it was hysterical, painful craving. You needed him to fuck you with his fingers like he was so adept at doing, needed him to make you cum like he had so many times, needed to let him break you into pieces and put you back together until you were one the brink of shattering for good.

You gripped at the sheets, and his hair, and his sturdy forearm that draped over your thigh—whatever you could hold onto as your core tensed and your legs quaked. He’d studied you so thoroughly every time that he knew exactly how to bring you to the edge quickly, wasting no time at all—it was as though he knew he would taste you again and again, that there was no need to savor you right now if he could have you whenever he desired. It was all too much—his tongue moving over your sensitive clit, his strong fingers pistoning in and out of you, the way he glanced up at you now and again, looking almost crazed by having you in his mouth. Your eyes clenched shut and you came with a wordless gasp, pulling his fingers in deeper with every shattering spasm. Delicious praise rang in your ears, whispered hymns of “good girl” gratifying whatever perverse part of your psyche demanded it.

“Feel better now?” Law asked as he pulled the hem of his shirt up to his mouth, wiping away the deluge of saliva and your juices that coated his goatee.

“I want more.” You must have looked depraved, hungover from your climax, your wobbly thighs still pressed tightly to his midsection, but you didn’t care—he already knew what type of deviant you were, like he could smell the obsession on you from the moment you walked onto his ship.

“More? Already?” A low laugh rumbled in his chest and he grasped your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks. “What do you want, hm? Want me to make you cum again?”

It hurt too much to not say it—it burned, it threatened to engulf you. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Is that right?” A salacious grin stretched across his lips.  “You want my cock inside you, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. It sounded so perfect the way he said it, at once sincere and condescending, loving and patronizing. You nodded with a whimper, not even knowing how to answer him without sounding utterly depraved.

“God, of course I’ll fuck you, it’s all I’ve wanted,” Law said through a shuddering breath, and he kissed you, hard and fast, his tongue pushing past your lips and thrusting into you as if to fuck your mouth before he’d deign to fuck you with his cock. He stood and stripped his shirt off, the low light above the bed casting shadows on the hard muscles of his chest, the tightness of his abdomen. He smirked as he saw you staring, a dusting of blush forming across his cheeks, and he took his time unzipping his jeans, pulling them down his lean hips bit by bit, until you finally saw glimpse of his shaft, surrounded by his dark pubic hair.

“Law, come on, don’t tease me,” you said in a petulant whine, a pout on your lips.

“Fine.” He tugged his pants down the rest of the way, sliding them past his muscled thighs, stepping out of them as you watched his hardened cock bob as he moved. He slowly ran his palm along the shaft, then gripped himself until he throbbed, the tip turning flush, just to make you squirm. “But if you want it so bad, beg for it.”

“Really?”

“What’s the problem?” he grinned as he slowly stroked himself. “If you’re so needy for me, then beg.”

“Please, Law?” It sounded pathetic coming out of you, just the way he wanted it to—he wanted you to earn it, no matter how eager he was to give you everything you ever wanted without question. “I want you so bad—won’t you fuck me? Please?”

“Yeah?” Law ran his thumb over the head over his reddened and swollen tip, collected the sticky pre-cum that glistened in the low light, and spread it over his length. “Let me ask you—is this what you think about when you’re supposed to get yourself off between sessions? You think about what I’d feel like inside you?”

You pulled your panties down your legs and kicked them aside, spreading yourself open so he could see the mess he’d made of you. Your hand drifted between your thighs and you idly ran a finger up and down your spit-soaked slit—if he was going to torture you as he kept what you wanted just out of reach, you could easily do the same. “That’s all I could think about some nights.”

“Me too.” He let out a shivering sigh and you watched him pulse again and again in his hand. “After you’d leave my office, I’d think about how I should have just taken you right there on my desk, while you were still good and sensitive for me.”

“Law, please, I need you,” you quietly keened as you watched him start to fuck his fist, and you could almost feel how it would fill you, remembering how he’d felt wrapped in your palm, how he’d throbbed in your mouth and coated your tongue with his spend.

“Need you too,” he rasped while he moved towards you, his palm wrapped around the base, and he dragged the sticky tip across your cheek, brushing it against your lips. “Why don’t you get it nice and wet?”

Law hissed a low, “Good girl,” as you took him in your mouth, and he pushed into you, one hand on the back of your head, stopping you just short of choking on him as he thrust his hips. His grey eyes flickered with desire, as you coated his length in your spit, watching as it ran down the corners of your mouth.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough or I won’t want you to stop,” he said after a few moments, leaning down to wipe the drool from your chin before he joined you on the bed. He settled back against his pillows, hands behind his head, muscled thighs spread; it was almost smug the way he laid there smiling in the shadows, presenting his cock to you like a reward. You moved up the bed and straddled his hips, slowly sliding your slick cunt along the length of him, coating him in the mix of his saliva and your arousal, his swollen tip catching against your clit and pulling little gasps from you each time.

“Is this all you want?” he teased, breaking through the haze of arousal that had settled around you while you moved over him. “Thought you wanted me to fuck you—did you change your mind?”

“Of course not.”

His hands moved up to your thighs, gripping at your plushness. You’d never tell him that if this was all he offered, if this was all you were allowed, you would have gladly taken it, chased your pleasure grinding on him like this, would have let him see you lose yourself without ever even getting to feel him inside you.

“Let me help you,” he growled as he reached down and positioned himself against you, the head of his cock slipping past your puffy lips and pressing against your entrance; a strangled gasp left you as you felt him swell. “You need this, don’t you?”

“Need it so bad,” you mumbled, and you kept your eyes fixed to his as you eased yourself onto him, watching how his mouth fell open and his eyebrows knitted with every inch of him that slid inside your velvety cunt. The way he sighed, the way his hands now moved up your body to grip your waist—it was clear he wanted you with the same eagerness as you did him, wanted to shove your hips and push you down until you enveloped him completely. But Law was patient for you, patient as enduring preoccupations and shameful fantasies and unspoken desires became real, and his trembling hands tightened their grip as you reached the limit of what you could take.

You braced yourself with palms flat on his chest, and you felt how his heart thudded under your hands, beating only for you, as you started to roll your hips—slow and shallow movements, just enough to feel him gliding against your sensitive walls, just enough to finally have that closeness he denied you for so long. You wanted to close your eyes, to shut out every other sensation but him, let him be all there was and commit the way he stretched you and pulsed inside you to memory—yet you couldn’t bear to move your gaze away from his. Quiet groans reverberated under your hands, and his hips gently rocked up into you, burying deep into your desperate, needy warmth with every motion.

“God you’re so fucking wet,” he said through a sigh, the lewd sounds of your drenched cunt meeting his skin again and again starting to fill the room. It mixed with your hushed mewls and his gasping breaths, all of it barely concealed by the ever-present groaning of the ship as it carried you through the depths.

You leaned down and greedily kissed him, tasting sweat on his lips, messily swirling your tongue with his, long strands of saliva still connecting you as you pulled away. “Just for you, Law—so wet just for you.”

Law’s hands moved up from your waist and he wrapped his long arms around your back, pulling you down towards his chest, your pebbled nipples brushing against his warm skin, sending little shocks of pleasure down your limbs as you picked up your pace. “Fuck, you feel so good. Never should have waited so long to fuck you.”

“Wish you hadn’t,” you panted as you mindlessly rocked your hips faster, chasing a warmth that was beginning to spread through your core as you gave him your confession. “Needed you for so fucking long, ever since I saw you the first time.”

“I know.” A shaky moan puffed out of him, and his grip tightened around you, pressing you into him until you would swear you could feel every tendon and muscle that contorted under his skin; you slid your arms underneath him, fingers digging into his back, and he sucked in a sharp inhale through his teeth at the sensation. You would have let him break you if he wanted, let him crush you into nothing if it meant you could be any closer to him than you were at that moment.

Law’s patience and inhibitions seemed to be wearing thin now, his own voracious hunger overtaking him, and he dug his heels into the mattress, suddenly fucking up into you with a heated urgency. His biceps flexed while he kept you pressed against him, so tight you could almost feel the creak of your ribs, holding you still so he could ruin you at his pace. You nestled your face in the crook of his neck, keening into his shoulder as quietly as you could while you clenched around him; he smelled faintly of spiced cologne and sweat and traces of antiseptic, and you wanted to breathe him in forever.

“Say it—say you need me again,” he whimpered into your ear, his tone desperate and wanting, his breath coming in punctuated gasps. “I wanna hear you say it for me.”

“Need you, Law,” you gasped, “need you more than anything.”

“That’s my good girl.” A blissful groan left his lips, every inhalation becoming more labored, more erratic. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum for you so soon.”

“C-cum inside me.” You weren’t sure if you meant it to be a request or a demand, but the way he throbbed as the words tumbled out of you told you it didn’t matter either way.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Please?”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart, I’ll give you what you want.” He turned his head to push his mouth against your neck and kiss you, his tongue dragging up to meet your ear, and the rough scratch of his facial hair against sensitive skin sent little pinpricks traveling down the column of your spine.

Law chased his own pleasure greedily, wantonly, a reward he’d earned after having sated yours with perverse diligence night after night in the cold quiet of the exam room and the illicit dark of his office. He’d given you everything, after all, given you blissful, intoxicating relief with the ministrations of his skilled hands—it was only fair that once, just once, the release was his to take from you.

Tears started to sting the corners of your eyes with his every desperate upward thrust, and he roughly knocked against something inside you, making every inch of you started to burn with an uncontrollable fire. The soft round curves of your ass slapped against the front of his thighs, and he bucked up into you frantically, losing his rhythm, needing to feel himself spasm inside you with such urgency that he lost all sense of control.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” Law whimpered into your shoulder, and with a low stuttering groan and a muttered prayer of your name, his body shuddered, and you felt every muscle thrumming as he spilled himself inside you. His breaths were shallow and fast, warm against your sweat-slicked body, as he trembled through his orgasm; he languidly continued to thrust with gentle lifts of his hips, fucking his cum back up into you as it leaked down his shaft.

He held you there even after his legs relaxed, even after the throbbing ceased and that deep and painful ache subsided; he held you there against his chest like you’d disappear if he let you go, like you’d fade from his sight if his arms weren’t wrapped around you, one hand cradling the back of your head. You started to move, to pry yourself away from him even though everything in you screamed not to, but he was stronger than you, held you firmly with shaking arms, and he hastily uttered a broken plea: ”Stay. Stay with me.”

“I won’t go anywhere, Law,” you whispered as you relaxed and let your body melt into him. “I won’t.”

You laid there together in the quiet, breathing each other in. The words were there, always dancing on the tip of your tongue—how he’d ruined you, how he’d broken you, how he’d encouraged the kindling of your obsession to grow and grow until it was a wildfire, how you’d become so tangled with him that it felt oppressive, like you’d never be able to detach. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if you told him, because the closer he kept you pressed to him, the more he let himself indulge in this silent intimacy, the way he softly kissed every exposed bit of skin that he could reach like he wanted to devour you, it became clearer and clearer that he already knew. He had already studied you from cover to cover, and he knew what he’d done, and he had intentionally let that fire spread and consume him, too.

“You should stay here tonight,” he said, hesitation balancing on every word, as he released his iron grip on you at last. “I mean, if you want to.”

“You sure?” You pushed yourself up, carefully wresting yourself from the sticky dampness of his lap, and collapsed on the bed beside him, slotting yourself under his arm and curling yourself against him.

“I’m sure.”

“Then yeah, I’ll stay.” You closed your eyes, breathing in deeply before adding, “I don’t think I want to be alone right now.” He turned and kissed the top of your head, inhaling you deeply. “It’s okay. I don’t think I do either.”

Your fingers skimmed over his chest, following the pattern of the ink on his skin, tracing your name in the empty spaces, tattoos only you would ever see.

“You know,” Law said, his thumb making soft circles on your upper arm, “I was thinking—do you wanna maybe keep reading?”

You didn’t need to glance up at him to see the smile forming on his lips—you could hear the anticipation laced in his tone. “I don’t think there’s anything else I’d rather do.”

----------

It was still dark when you opened your eyes, as it nearly always was no matter when you awakened. Law had fallen asleep curled around you, an arm around your waist, one leg slung over your hip, pinning you against him and keeping you from vanishing into the ether as he slept. You squinted at the clock on his desk—it was early, too early, but your clandestine trysts only worked if you slipped away in the quiet hours of the morning, when the only ones awake were the fish that pirouetted in front of the porthole window.

It was tempting to stay there with him, to wait until he awoke on his own and told you in a doleful whisper that it was time to go, or until someone else pounded at his door, needing something, always needing something. But you knew the longer you remained, the harder it would become to wrest yourself away from him when it was time, the harder it would become if he told you he only meant for you to stay the night, not stay forever, like you started to convince yourself he would. You carefully extracted yourself from his grasp and sat on the edge of the bed, groping the floor for your clothes, when you felt long fingers wrap around your wrist.

“Where are you going?” Law asked, his voice thick with sleep. “Come back to me.”

“I can’t,” you whispered, turning to look at him. “I have to go before everyone else wakes up.”

He blinked at you slowly, his tired eyes even more sunken in, the corners crinkled as he offered you a drowsy smile. There was something charming about him like this—his movements slowed like he was moving through sand, long limbs splayed out as he rolled onto his back, black hair a disheveled mess with errant strands clinging to his temples. You wanted to always keep him in your mind just like this, remember him exactly as he was right then—not your captain, or your doctor, or a pirate, but just Law, free of his masks and his walls and his pretense of professionalism.

“I suppose you’re right,” he finally said as his hand pulled away and he set it on his torso.

You pulled your shirt over your head and flopped backwards onto him, your head resting on his stomach. “I could stay a little longer, I guess. Just a few more minutes.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the captain, you tell me—are you gonna be mad if I’m late to my post?”

He clucked his tongue at you and laughed softly. “I can let it slide, just this once.”

You shivered and sighed as he reached for your hand and pulled it up onto his chest, his fingers making gentle patterns in your palm. Doubt wrapped itself around your spine as you laid together in the darkness, and it felt too good, too real—you’d wake up any moment now and it would all have been some fever dream concocted by a sleep-deprived brain, and you’d be back on the Sunny, doubled over in pain and feeling useless and burdensome. But not here, not with him—with Law, you felt relief, you felt desire, you felt affection and warmth and something deeper, something that you still couldn’t bring yourself to put a name to.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” His voice cut through the silence with a quiet melancholy.

“Of course it is.”

“Look, it’s not like you can’t change your mind, but I can’t guarantee I can get you back easily if this—if we don’t”—he sighed, searching for words that seemed to elude him—“if things change—listen, people don’t just move from crew to crew all the time—“

“Law, stop.” You sat up and knelt next to him on the bed, placing a hand on his cheek. “Do you want me here or not? You’re acting like you want me to leave again.”

“I’m not saying you have to leave,” he sighed. “I’m just trying to explain that—that’s there’s a risk.”

“I know there is.” You laid down beside him, draping your arm over his chest. “But we all have something to lose, don’t we?”

He scoffed. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand.” You’d never known what it was that weighed him down so heavily, what he carried with him every day that seemed to tug and pull at him, what sat on his chest at night and kept him awake, leaving him sitting at his desk deep into the night, occupying himself with books and papers and planning for futures that would never manifest. You’d never known, and you’d never asked—it would come in time, when he was ready, when he felt like you were worthy of his trust.

“Maybe one day.” He rolled onto his side, placed his hand on the side of your neck, fingertips reaching around to graze your nape until you goosebumps covered your skin. “Not yet though.”

You laid your palm on his forearm, inhaling deeply, letting the silence blanket you again. It was almost enough—it wasn’t a promise, it wasn’t a declaration of his intent, it wasn’t a confession, but it was almost enough.

“Then, you’re not changing your mind?” You knew how you must sound—like some needy, desperate thing. But it was, in truth, still how he liked you best.

“Even if I could,” Law purred, kissing your forehead, “I’m getting the impression you wouldn’t let me.”

You hooked your leg over his and pulled yourself against him, feeling the twitch of his cock against your thigh, tempting him into finding a more definitive way to keep you in bed a little longer. An amused groan reverberated in his chest, and he captured your trembling lips with his, giving you long, deliberate kisses that made time seem to slow and everything cease to exist around you.

“So,” you sighed as his hand lowered between your legs, palm pressed against your wet heat, “can I come by again tonight? If I’m careful?”

“Of course you can.” He traced his tongue along your lips before he let out a chuckle. “How else are we gonna finish Sora?”

[sequinsmile-x]

Cacoethes

Emily is 9 months pregnant and doing her best not to cry at everything, especially because it's not Aaron's fault the pizza place got her order wrong.

-x-

Hi besties,

This is very much me trying to be funny. This is very fluffy and sweet and what I owe you all after the last two chapters of Our Great Divide.

It is one of the kissing prompts, 'tearful kisses', from my Linger Like a Tattoo Kiss series, but it massively got away so it is it's own fic :)

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: pregnancy, questionable pizza toppings

Words: 3.2k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily loved being pregnant. 

She was anxious at first. Sure that the fact she’d fallen pregnant so quickly and so easily, after being told by more than one doctor they weren’t sure if she could after her injuries from Ian, was a cruel trick from the universe. A burst of happiness that she wouldn’t be allowed to hold on to, not when she already had Aaron and Jack. It was a feeling that faded as the weeks went by, her anxiety replaced with joy and happiness as it settled in that she was going to have this. That she deserved to be happy, something that she had once thought would pass her by entirely. 

She thinks that's why she loved watching the changes to her body, why she loved the evidence that it was real.  It was why she’d stare at her reflection as she stood side on to the mirror every day, diligently watching as the slight curve to her belly gave way to an undeniable bump, her hand trailing up and down her abdomen as she stood naked in her and Aaron’s bedroom. Slow and purposeful as she made mental notes of the changing topography of her body, each new hill and valley something she enjoyed just as much as Aaron did, his love for her and their baby growing along with her by the day. She never thought she’d be someone who took monthly bump pictures, but she was. Unashamed as she’d stand against a blank wall in their home wearing a sports bra and a pair of jeans she’d stopped being able to do up months ago, her smile wide as she cradled her belly, her eyes soft as they met her husband’s over the camera as he took a dozen photos each time. 

She loved feeling her baby move, the small fluttering she’d mistaken for gas at first shifting into actual kicks and punches - elbows and heels occasionally visible through her skin, something she thinks would have freaked her out if she saw it on anyone else. She loved it. She’d sit up in bed next to her sleeping husband for hours, too uncomfortable to sleep herself, and she’d talk to her daughter, whispering in English and French about all the plans they had, how she and Aaron would always make sure she was safe and loved. 

Even now, her due date been and gone a week ago, when she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her toes and couldn’t get off the couch without assistance from Aaron, there were only two things about pregnancy she knew she wouldn’t miss - not being able to take a deep breath, and having absolutely no control over her emotions. 

It was something she’d always prided herself on. Her ability to compartmentalise something that had helped her survive things most people couldn’t even imagine, but she’d left it behind somewhere in her first trimester and she worried she’d never entirely get it back. She cried at everything and she hated it. She felt like a raw nerve, exposed and sore and liable to falling apart at the tiniest thing. It was only made worse by her frustration with herself, a vicious cycle that not even Aaron could always get her out of no matter how much patience and love he showed her. She was hoping that the moment her daughter was born things would improve, that she’d feel a little more in control again, but she knew she was kidding herself. Denial one of the few things she could hold on to when every day that passed her body and her mind felt a little less like her own. 

She also was not a fan of maternity leave. She saw no merit it in it when her baby was still inside of her, the thought of just resting laughable when she hadn’t been able to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time in weeks. She missed Aaron when he was at work, although he wasn’t going on cases anymore because she could go into labour at any moment, and Jack when he was at school, and she could admit even to herself that she’d mope around the house until they got home. The solitude and silence she’d once found peace in now a prison, something she’d had enough of in Paris to last a lifetime.

Emily groans as she shifts on the couch, her hand on her bump as the baby presses against her lungs, “You’re getting evicted soon, sweet girl,” she smiles to herself as she draws idle patterns over her t-shirt covered skin, “I can’t wait to meet you.” 

Her induction was booked for the following morning, and Emily had stopped hoping days ago that she’d go into labour naturally, her baby girl seemingly content to kick up against her ribs and not go anywhere. Emily wasn’t even upset about it anymore, no matter how desperate she was to hold her daughter and see her face, and she was content to spend the evening cuddling with her husband on the couch whilst eating the pizza she’d been thinking about all day. Her craving for it so specific she’d dreamt about it when she had an afternoon nap, waking up to find a small pool of drool beneath her open mouth. 

She smiles as she looks up at the sound of Aaron’s familiar footsteps on the hardwood floor in their hallway. He walks into the living room, his smile wide and content as he slips his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants. 

“Jack is on his way to Jessica’s, you’d think it was Christmas Eve with how excited he is,” he says, leaning down to kiss her forehead, “He said he can’t wait to meet his little sister tomorrow.” 

She grumbles, “He’ll meet her tomorrow if my labour only lasts a day,” she pouts, unable to stop herself from smiling as he kisses her again, “At this rate, I think baby girl is going to stay exactly where she is forever.” 

“You’ll be holding her soon, sweetheart,” he assures her, kissing her one more time before he pulls away, “I ordered the pizza and it should be here in about 30 minutes,” he says, smiling as he sits next to her, his eyebrow raised as she goes to say something before he beats her to it, “I remembered to ask for yours without cheese.” 

Her aversion to dairy products was something that had started almost immediately. The smell of creamer in coffee enough to have her running to the bathroom to throw up, her hand over her mouth as she darted through their home or the bullpen. It lasted past her nausea going away, and she’d turn her nose up at even the sight of cheese or yoghurt, so cheeseless pizza had become her regular order when they couldn’t bring themselves to cook. The irony that this was the same woman who’d wave the stinkiest of cheeses past his face when they were in Europe on their honeymoon wasn’t lost on him. Her dislike of it all so strong that he couldn’t even have mild cheddar in the fridge without her claiming that it made everything else stink, the baby having turned her into some kind of bloodhound that put the canine unit to shame.

She narrows her eyes and bites the inside of her cheek to hide her smile, “What about yours?”

He shakes his head at her as he runs his fingers through her hair, “There’s no cheese on mine either, don’t worry,” he turns up his nose, “There’s also no black olives on mine.” 

She rolls her eyes, “You like olives.” 

“Not when they are paired with pineapple and pepperoni, sweetheart.” 

She chuckles and leans in to kiss him, “You might complain about my cravings,” she murmurs, kissing him again, “But you’ll kiss me after I’ve eaten it.”

He cups her cheek and kisses the tip of her nose before he stamps his lips against hers, “Nothing would ever stop me from doing that.” 

They sit curled around each other on the couch, both of their hands on her bump as the baby  moves beneath their palms. Waves of Braxton Hicks contractions pass through Emily, making her tense each time as Aaron soothes her through them, his lips against her temple as he practices his role in labour as her body practices hers. She feels nothing short of relieved when there’s a knock at the door, her stomach growling at the idea of the food she’d been looking forward to all day. 

Her joy is shortlived. 

She can smell the cheese the moment Aaron carries the boxes into the living room and she sighs sadly, “They’ve put cheese on them.”

Aaron smiles at her, “Sweetheart, there’s no way you can tell…” he drifts off as he opens the boxes, his eyebrows furrowing when he’s met with two pizzas that were absolutely covered in cheese. He chuckles humourlessly, “I’ve got to say, the baby has made your sense of smell-” He’s cut off as she chokes on a sob, her hand over her mouth as she tries and fails to capture it, tears already spilling past her lashline, “Oh, Em,” he says, letting the boxes fall closed again as he closes the gap between them, wrapping his arms around her as she willingly slips into his embrace, “It’s okay, I’ll-”

“It’s not okay,” she says, her face crumpled, sadness painted all across it as she pulls back and wipes tears from her cheeks, “I can’t eat that. You can’t pick off cheese.” 

“I’ll call them,” he says, rubbing a comforting circle on her back, used to her falling apart at things that would never have made her cry this time last year. At first, he’d struggled to know what to do. Emily had always been more forthcoming with him than anyone else, especially after they got together. She no longer tried to hide her emotions from him, let him see behind the mask she wore in front of everyone else, the one her parents had made for her and that she’d used since she was too young to really understand. Her pregnancy had stripped her of it, taken away a lifelong skill of being able to proudly hide how she was feeling, everything she felt out on display for everyone to see. Her sadness and anger precious jewels for everyone to look at in fascination now they were suddenly behind glass instead of locked away in a vault, “I’ll ask them to remake them.”

She shakes her head, “No, they close soon,” she grumbles, more tears falling past her lashline as her chin trembles, “They won’t take any more delivery orders.” 

“Then I’ll go there and make sure I watch them make them this time,” he says, kissing her lips, tasting the salf of her tears before he kisses her forehead and stands up.

“No, it’s okay,” she says, wiping her cheeks, “I can eat something else. I think there’s some pudding cups in the fridge.” 

He sighs, scratching the back of his head, “Jack…” he clears his throat, “Jack ate the last one after he had his dinner,” he says, his heart clenching in his chest as her chin trembles again, her eyes getting impossibly shinier, “I’ll go to the store and get some pudding cups on the way back from the pizza place.” 

She blows out a breath, a laugh catching in her throat, “You’re the best husband I’ve ever had.”

He leans down and kisses her forehead, “I’m the only husband you’ve ever had,” he winks at her as he pulls back, “Send me a text if you want me to get anything else.” 

“Love you,” she calls after him, smiling when he replies, the three words followed by the door closing. She gasps as a contraction rolls through her again and she chuckles, wiping away the tears still on her cheeks with one hand as she rubs a soothing circle on her belly with the other, “You better be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen kiddo,” she says, shaking her head at herself, “Otherwise I’m not sure I could forgive you for making me cry over pizza.” 

At some point whilst he’s out, Emily is unable to carry on pretending the contractions she’s been feeling are Braxton Hicks. The pattern was undeniable, ten minutes turning into nine and then eight. She finds herself pacing, her grip on the back of the couch tight as she breathes through the pains, a sigh of relief escaping her when she hears their car pull up on the driveway. 

“Not a shred of cheese in sight,” he declares as he walks in the house, two boxes of pizza in his hands and a bag of groceries hanging from his arm, “I flashed my badge so I could stand in the kitchen and watch them make it.” 

It makes her smile and she gratefully takes the box he places on the counter in front of her when they make it to the kitchen. She opens it and pulls out a slice, eating it faster than she thinks she’s ever eaten anything before she pulls out a second slice, groaning in delight as she eats it, as just as many toppings slip free from the cheeseless base as she manages to eat, “That’s so fucking good.” 

Aaron smiles lovingly at her as he puts away the groceries he’d bought, “Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he says, watching as she grips the counter, breathing slowly and controlled as she rocks side to side, “Are you okay?” 

She nods and hums, “I’m okay,” she says, reaching for another slice of the pizza, “I’m in labour, but I’m okay.” 

He almost drops the pudding he’s holding, his eyes wide as he steps towards her, “You’re in labour?” He asks and she nods again, “How do you know?” 

“The contractions were my first clue,” she says dryly, talking around a mouthful of her pizza, “Plus, my waters broke whilst you were out.” She almost laughs when his eyes get wider, his expression almost cartoonish as he closes the gap between them, his arms tight around her. 

“We need to go to the hospital.”

“In a minute,” she demands, “Just let me have one more slice, they won’t let me eat when we get there.”

He sighs, knowing he’d never been able to say no to her, “Fine. I’ll go get your hospital bag and you eat one more slice,” he says, kissing her forehead, “Then we’ll go have a baby.” 

“Yeah,” she smiles and her eyes shine with tears they both know she’ll shed at some point soon, “Then we’ll go have a baby.” 

___

She hums softly, her cheek against the top of her little girl’s head as she runs a hand up and down the newborn’s back. She breathes in the sweet smell of her head, something Emily was already addicted to, something she somehow already misses because she knew it would fade. 

“Daddy will be back soon, sweet girl,” she mumbles, tilting her head to look down at her daughter, her chest full and aching with love for her, for the tiny feature’s she’d already spent hours memorising, “He’s gone to get me something to eat,” she strokes her knuckles up and down the baby’s soft cheek, smiling at the memory of her somewhat successful attempts to feed her since she’d been born, “You aren’t the only one who’s hungry after the day we’ve had.” 

Her labour had drawn out over a day, her body and mind pushed almost to its limit. More than once she was sure she couldn’t do it, every single part of her screaming that it was too much, but Aaron had been her rock. Her port in a storm as he held her in whatever say she needed and told her she could do it, that she was the bravest person he knew. When their daughter slipped into the world, screaming and bright red, Emily knew she’d never been happier, everything she’d ever wanted finally real and here. 

She looks up from her little girl at the sound of a knock on the door, and she smiles at Aaron as he walks in, a pizza box in hand and a smile on his face, “How are my girls?” 

“We’re okay,” she whispers, looking back down at the sleeping baby, “Aren’t we Rosie?” 

Aaron leans down and kisses Rosie’s head and then Emily’s cheek, capturing her lips when she turns her head to kiss him, “I missed you.” 

She smiles, because it feels nothing short of ridiculous because she’d missed him too, the 30 minutes he’d been gone to get her food long and drawn out as she waited for him to return, “You too,” she says, kissing him once more, “Did you get my usual?”

He nods, smiling as he pulls back and lays the box on her lap, opening it up to reveal the cheeseless pizza with olives, pepperoni and pineapple, “Are you sure that still looks good to you?” 

She hums as she picks up a slice, Rosie secured against her chest with one hand, “Delicous,” she says, smiling as he sits on the chair next to the bed, “I am still a walking bag of hormones though,” she says, smiling as she takes a bite, “I’m sure I’ll go back to eating normal things again soon.” 

He smiles and places his hand on her thigh, squeezing gently, “After what you did today, you can eat whatever you want without comment from me.” 

She smiles gratefully at him, but her response is stopped in it’s tracks as an olive and a slice of pepperoni slip off the pizza and land on Rosie’s head, standing out against her dark hair, “Oh.” 

Aaron can already tell what’s going to happen, his wife’s nerves shot after a long, hard labour and little to no sleep, her eyes already shining with tears. He leans forward and picks the stray toppings from Rosie’s head, smiling encouragingly at his wife as he drops them into the empty space in the box on her lap. 

“No harm done, Em,” he says, leaning in to kiss her forehead and then the top of Rosie’s head, “See? She’s still fast asleep,” he assures Emily, smiling when she nods, “She’s happy and safe.” 

Emily nods again and blows out a slow breath, “Yeah, you’re right,” she says, swallowing thickly as she tries to control herself, her chest tight with everything she’d told herself would disappear when she gave birth, “She’s fine,” she kisses the top of Rosie’s head and sucks in a breath, the tears she’d been trying to hold back slipping past her lashline, “Damn it.” 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Aaron asks, doing his best to keep a straight face, knowing full well if she even thought he was making fun of her that she’d kill him, only 5 hours post partum or not. 

She sniffles, shaking her head at herself as she drops the half eaten slice in her hand back into the box, no longer able to stomach it, her words half choked out around a sob she doesn’t entirely understand. 

“She smells like fucking pizza.”