#Dainty pearl beads

[pearlsgirls]

Dainty Silver Chain Necklace Dainty Pearl Necklace Dainty Chain Necklace Freshwater Pearls Necklace 925 Sterling Silver Necklace Sterling Silver Dainty Necklace,Dainty Bar Pearl Pendant,Bar Pendant,Dainty Pearl Necklace,Dainty Bar Necklace,Sterling Silver Dainty Chain DETAILS: ❤️ STERLING SILVER DAINTY CHAIN: 60cm/24 Inches ❤️ FRESHWATER PEARLS: approx. 0.5cm/0.20 inch ❤️ WHITE SEASHELL: approx. 0.7cm / 0.27 Inch ABSOLUTELY HANDMADE! ❤️All of the jewellry is handcrafted by myself in my little PEARLS&GIRLS studio and not just bought and re-saled :) BEAUTIFULLY PACKAGED! ❤️All items will be sent in a beautiful sturdy box with Pearls&Girls logo:) CARE ADVICE: -All jewellry I am selling is top notch quality so it shouldn't tarnish however it is always a good idea to take some precautions! :) Here are some of my tips: - Avoid exposure to perfumes, lotions and other chemicals other than that your good to go and can swim and bath as s - Remove before bathing, swimming and exercising - Do not wear while sleeping - Store in a dry and cool place DISPATCH & DELIVERY TIMES All items are made to order. It usually takes 2-3 working days to prepare and ship an order. SHIPPING INFORMATION ALL ORDERS SHIP WORLDWIDE FOR FREE ! I am sending those by PRIORITY LETTER by Nationa Mail- from my studio based in CRACOW, POLAND The approximate arrival times are as follows: EUROPE -5 -7working days USA- approx. 7 working days REST OF THE WORLD - Usually arrives in 5-12 business days *Please, upgrade your delivery option if you need tracking for your parcel.* CONTACT Thank you so much for visiting! please feel free to drop me a message should you have any questions:) SOCIAL MEDIA For more jewelry and to join my newsletter you can find me on my website www.pearlsandgirls.com REFUNDS & EXCHANGES I am always happy to assist and try my best to make my clients smile! I am offering hassle free refunds in case of damaged items All the love , Agathe from PEARLS&GIRLS

[nurknits]

[astralnymphh]

why is it always about ellie pleasuring us and never about us pleasuring her??? like I wanna edge then and then overstimulate her till she cries 👉👈

right?? like.. ugh especially with a vibrator !! mdni. mama petname used. sub!ellie. bratty behaviour. blah kind of a lazier drabble focused more on dialogue im just practicing for pccb (pretty cunt central, baby: a fic) 1.5k+ wc.

⤹ edging ellie with a vibrator ⋆ . ☣

Hung like a vignette upon her lain body, Ellie was vulnerable. Accelerated in the pump of her blood. Cold of her sweat, beading clammy condensation on her cheeks, a single bang strews itself across that muggy biome of skin— somehow looking darker as it soaks up her wet frustration. The bedspread, however, drank up a lethal amount of her crying sweat. A dull radiograph beneath her, turning lilac hue of her blanket—mauve, marking her body with a vignette of her own.

Ellie on her back, thighs broadened on each side of you, and you fully kneeling with cold toes wedged into the chub of your ass, is your position. Skimpy end of her pubic bush tickled your belly button whenever she scoots closer, eagerly trying to rub her greedy pussy on you— fuck, you cherish those little antsy movements.

"Fuckin'— unhhh— nuhnonono babe, baby.. fuck, c'mon!" her words drove on a groan, snapping into an upset whine when a certain toy was drifted from her beaming cherry clit.

Fun. Fun is what you gain from this, and it fed you with hormones to perceive it in that light. Your thumb planes plumb on a flat button, the surrounding indentation kissing your print as you let it sit softly, no vibrations to numb it.

Ellie chases your detach with her hips bucking and legs arisen, sticking out her cunt for that damn toys' bulbous head, "Mama— please, fuck.." the whine leavens, straining in her clench of stress.

She is so fucking handsome, cute— alurring with that glassy daisy nose. Buttony and speckled like a daisys lemony pistil, but glossy as a pearl washed upon a rocky cove, orb of luster on the tip to prove it. Fairest terra of her skin, has gone scarlet against the pale sand of her cupids bow, which she rolls inward to her bottom lip in even more neglect of her edging. Too fucking cute.

"Yeah, you fucking like that?" you flipped the toy on and jabbed it into her clit, provoking her hips to jerk in regret and her legs to clamp in on you— to which you dug your free hand into the plush hind of her thigh, stretching the web of your thumb and pointer, and craning that shit 'till her knee nearly kissed the mattress. Sprawled like a bitch in heat.

"Fuck fuck fuck! N— ohhh my guuh, haah—" Els bolted her eyelids to a creasing shut, scrunching up to her nose as you sunk that vibrator head in vertical drags, watching her pretty pussy lips swallow the ridge of it, "uhhhnn t'can't, cuuhh— uh!" blabbered she.

Your blabbering mess. Jolting up her pussy for you, the bulge of its aroused state really catching your eyes.

"Can't what, baby?" you coo belittleingly.

A nubby mass pushes your nude hips into her butt, thereafter you realize her heel was nudging you close, because she longs for your closeness, to be near when she cums.

Strias of breath warble from her throat, panting in dainty breaks, "Huhh— ha, uhh babe, m'wanna cum for you, cum with my pussy all over y—you, y—yeah.." her tune turns squeaky, enticing you with that weak coo, only to grow pouty and sassy, "stop be— uhhn, being a dick.."

A brow arches in amusement, "What was that?" you curl in feigned curiosity, lifting the whirring bulb with a webbing of her slick gluing from the verge of her hole to the plastic tip.

"Fuck—" a dramatic pulling of pants rise again, chest aswell, vocal chords calming, "you're just getting me back for teasing you, hmm?"

"Yes.." you spur from lying, sounding proud.

Rose buds of her lips curl in as she chugs air, gazing so doey—eyed at you through lashes sodden in faint tears. Those fucking brows curved in at the base of her nose, making her look so— dizzied, like she was about to pass.

She hikes up onto her elbows, pressing her hot buttcheeks harsh into your thighs until they splat. Ellie just knew, by the twist of your words and the crescent carving below your nose, you enjoy this. "God, you.." a sigh leaves her, cheeks inflating, "you fucking like this."

You frill, "Mhm."

"Fuck you."

Faking offense, you dusk your lids to a slit, glaring, "Scuse me?" stern with a smile, you winch a hand behind you— wrapping around another toys girth, "wanna talk t'me like that?" you press the vibrator back to her clit, swerving your other hand 'round and dipping the spade of a purple dildo into her hole— fast, stretching her lips open and bottoming 'till the small silicone balls squished her perineum.

"Shit!" yelped she, sudden lunge of her large mitt now grappling the hand on her thigh and burrowing bowed nail marks deep in your wrist, second hand clawing the cotton sleeve of her pillow.

You smack the balls hard on her wet skin, draining every bit of precum from her filthy gaping pussy— which landslides in between her ass. Drawing strings and strings from her cervix, the squelch arouses your ears, flushing them in heat.

"Yeah?" you silken a muse at her choked and elongated moans, dazzling the front of your knuckles in slick with your speed, "slutty fucking pussy, lookit' her— clenching that cock in."

It hadn't even washed over you that she was already cumming, bubbly sounds of her piped squirt swelling into your ears— thenn the little spurts come and the pooling of white cream licking up the pumping veins spatters your belly, riling you the fuck up. You didn't let up, nuh—uh, not when her raised brows, banshee—wailing mouth and ghastly eyes made you feel hot inside your own cunt, striving for overstimulation.

"Ohhh my god— huhhnn.." Ellie groaned, tatted arm flexing it's veins and yielding pigment from her fingertips.

You slipped the dick out like butter— her labia kissing closed, and slap it down on her swollen folds, noise coiling, getting her to jerk and push out more slicky finish, "There you go— good girl, cummin' for mama?" you steady the vibrator, letting it torture her convulsing clit for an.. untold range of time, whatever floats your boat.

"Uh'huh.."

Nimble as ever, you glissade the dick up her torso, crushing her slobber webbed lips with the pussy—reeked tip, "Mhm, that's right, open up babe.." asking of her with a satiny softness taking over that cold voice.

Spit drools down her chin as she caves her gob over, pupils colliding as she crosses her eyes in, "Ghh— uhhhahnn.."

"Don't talk.." you enlist a ruder tug on her clit with the vibe, forcing all that sweet syrupy cum down that throat of hers in droplets off the dick, "suck that fucking cock.."

Obeying, she rumples the plump coral skin around the thickness and drags them over the texture, pulling them out slightly. Cream white began to build at her pie—hole, cherry pie lips, a la her scarfing gags spitting everything that wanted to travel down. Little 'guh, guh, guhhs' bounced off her larynx, a fucking angel soprano to your ears.

However, she just couldn't stop thrashing. Past her point of please, were her non—verbal pleads of relief. Relief from that whirring device, rolling her butt deeper into the mattress now opposing the chase.

Ellie's quivering right arm fleets up and grabs your wrist, shanking the hell—sworn cock out of her mouth with spit connecting, messy girl, "Nonono, fhck— too much t'much 'tmuhh— ahh~" she gabbles, locking her butt up and humping up into the air void of intention.

Too much.

Too much..

Not enough.

"You know this baby," a bastion of even more pride instills your craving cunt, winding your knees smushed into the bed and crawling over her, body casting dark in your vignette, chastising "Ellie doesn't get a break 'till I cum too, 'kay?" you whisk the toy away, just for a second.

The bitter burn of tears piggyback over her bottom lids, squeezed out like orange juice and glossing like her wet and mucky slit did, both squinting at your actions. A snotty sniffle flows into her woozed words, "C—can I at least tou—uhh, touch you.. babe?" red puffy eyes gazing into yours with such want, skipping momentarily to search for any expressive sign of a reply.

"Sure baby, sit up— but don't close those fucking legs." you accept her ask, watching that ruffly—haired girl scoot up with such excitement.

Ellie sits vanward still, slouching with widely spread legs and a timid hand reaching for your cunt, the contrary paw dropping and fondling the cushion of your butt cause she just couldn't help the urge, tucking her head in the warm hearth of your neck— latching a bite so she may distract herself from what you're about to do.

You take her hand and invite it in, feeling her fingertips divide and tease your folds and her teeth nipping tiny spots of flesh into her dried chuckling mouth like a goat grazing, giving you the green light to creep the toy on her bloated bud, once more.

"I fucking love playing with you."

[wiltedcranberry]

Suvirin Kedberiket inspired necklace!!

i wanted to make something that reflected the beauty and delicate nature of the citadel and also SKY!!!! AND CELESTIAL!!

definitely hugely massively inspired by suvis arc 3 art!!

i wanted some arc1-2 coloured blue accents in the piece to be like the old colour from suvis hair that still remained!

i used some old star + moon charms that i found, with some white glass beads to make it look much more elegant and dainty than say plastic or big massive pearls

[philistiniphagottini]

I'm back bitch lmao

Tbh I'm feeling either very innocent or very filthy depending on how you'll go about it soooo

63? With any chara u choose

I have spoken 😏

Hello friend :) Just so you know, it was your mistake for giving me the power to choose the character because I know your weaknesses. So I decided to go with Jing Yuan. Thanks for indulging me. Hope you enjoy~

63. thigh fucking (intercrural)

Smut Prompts

NSFW below the cut, MDNI

"Keep your legs pressed together for me" General Jing Yuan commanded, a small purr of your name falling from his rosy lips.

You hummed softly, heat prickling your bare skin and pooling in the pit of your stomach as Jing Yuan manhandled you to his pleasing. He held both your dainty ankles with a firm grip, resting them on his sturdy shoulder as your feet dangled uselessly beside his ear. You whimpered softly as you slipped an arm under the fluffy pillow supporting your head, nails digging into the fabric as he sandwiched his boiling cock between your plush thighs.

Jing Yuan’s hot breath tickled your skin as he moaned, golden eyes smouldering like embers as he watched you squirm with need beneath him. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he slid his cock against your creamy pussy, revelling in the harsh moan that spilled from your kiss swollen lips. Your blood simmered in your veins, heart pounding so loudly in your ears that you could barely hear anything over the incessant pulse. Your breathing wavered as the tip of his cock kissed your aching clit, spreading your arousal along his shaft as he continued to slowly rut against you.

General Jing Yuan didn’t think the sight of his little darling prancing around in thigh high, sheer lace stockings would stir something in him. He had, evidently, been so wrong about the amount of power a simple article of clothing would have over him. The mere sight of the lace hugging your thighs sent his mind into a tizzy. If he had any less self-control, he would have had his way with you at the Seat of Divine Foresight.

A warm chuckle blew past his lips as you mewled his name, rocking your hips against him and desperate for more sparks of friction on your wet pussy, your insides clenching around nothing as a hot coil wound tight in the pit of your stomach. Jing Yuan tilted his head, placing a featherlight kiss on your ankle as his hands sunk into your plush thighs, fingers squeezing generous amounts of skin.

"Eager?" he mused.

His fingers slipped under the lacy band of your thigh high socks, brushing against the sensitive skin and making your pulse race frantically beneath your skin. You nodded, arousal flushing your skin and turning the tips of your ears hot from the obscene, wet noise coming from between your thighs. Jing Yuan hummed with amusement, lazy eyes lidded as he let go of the elastic band of your stockings and let it snap back against your skin with a satisfying noise. You squeaked loudly, hips jolting forward as he repeated his actions. He adored the noises that stirred in your chest and he would never tire from dragging them from your bruised lips. His strong, calloused hands curled around your hips as he pulled you harder against him, the bed creaking from the sudden movement. You moaned sweetly as your core throbbed, causing your legs to tighten and squeeze the general’s thick cock until it felt like his dick was being completely smothered by your thick thighs.

A pleased purr rumbled in his chest. "Good girl. Squeeze me just like that."

Pre-cum dribbled from the tip of his cock and smeared against your hot skin, the small beads only adding to the pearls of slick that stained the insides of your thighs. A pleasant tingle raced down your back as his thumbs parted your silky lips like a delicate flower, forcing you to feel more of the sensual drag of his cock over your velvety folds. Your eyelashes fluttered over your burning cheeks, eyes threatening to slip close as you gripped onto your pillow tighter, head thrown back as stars wavered in your vision.

"General…so good…so close" you moaned between shaky breaths.

Your chest heaved with each laboured breath, tits bouncing with every punctuated jerk of Jing Yuan’s hips. You jolted beneath him with a sharp gasp when his thumb brushed against your pretty clit, giving it much needed attention as he rubbed the bundle of nerves in firm, tight circles. You cried out beneath him as the knot in your stomach tightened, back bending in a beautiful arc as your toes curled into the soles of your feet. You could feel his cock throbbing between your thighs, the thick ridges on the underside of his shaft hitting your soft spots and emptying your head of every single thought until you felt dizzy with bliss. A hand lazily crawled up your chest, cupping one of your trembling breasts and squeezing the soft flesh. You almost bit your tongue when Jing Yuan pinched a rosy tip between his fingers and tugged at the nerve.

"Is my pretty girl going to cum now?" Jing Yuan cooed, thumb pressing down on your clit until the little bud shrieked from the attention.

You nodded, a constellation of tears clinging to your lashes as you writhed under the General’s attention. "Yes" you croaked.

"Then don’t keep me waiting~"

You burst at the seams only a scant few seconds later, unable to hold onto the fraying ends of your sanity as you were intimately ripped apart at the seams. Your hot walls spasmed around nothing, the coil in your stomach shattering as your veins were flooded with white hot relief. You twisted beneath Jing Yuan, moaning his name to the heavens like it was the only word you remembered. A deep growl reverberated in his chest before you felt thick ropes of his seed splatter along your stomach and the insides of your thighs, the tip of his drooling cock pressing hard against your clit as you rode out the last dregs of your pleasure high.

It felt like your heart was in your throat as you tried to regain control of your breathing, legs shaking in Jing Yuan’s grasp as he leaned forward. He pressed your knees to your chest as he loomed over you, lips catching yours in a searing kiss. His breath was hot against your lips as his tongue plunged into your open mouth, spent cock still throbbing against your abdomen when you pressed closer to him. You delved your hands through his thick mane of hair, soft locks curling around your fingers as you tugged sharply on the strands. Jing Yuan groaned into your mouth, teeth catching on your bottom lip as you pulled apart from the kiss.

His eyes sparkled with mirth, fingers dipping beneath the band of your stockings once more and teasing the material with soft tugs. He leaned into your touch as your fingertips massaged his scalp, nails scraping against the back of his head as placed a soft kiss to his chin. His lips moved against yours when he spoke, his warm breath mingling with yours as his mouth ghosted over your skin.

"You should wear these more often" he mused, tugging at your stockings. "But next time, for my eyes only."

[maimingaffairs]

Grieving for the Living (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader) Part 5

The entirety of a capricious and treacherous marriage between the Darkling and the Lantsov princess.

read previous parts here!! part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

-

hi just popping in to say i love u guys always and longer. thank u for 400 followers, i could just kiss all of you!

word count: 8.5k

warnings: everything is cannon typical. unhealthy relationship dynamics are ahead, too.

taglist: @il0vebeingdelulu @mellowarcadefun @budugu @eir964 @arwensloanebarnes @marytvirgin @chaoticcoffeequeen @claire-loves-music

-

“I had a dress made for you.”

This was the first time your mother had directly spoken to you since you left Os Alta. She stood in the doorway of your room holding a large white box and she smiled at you. 

It wasn’t a pleasant smile by any means. It was one of ambivalence and nervousness. You had half a mind to hiss at her like a cat to see her go running down the hall, but you didn’t.

Instead, you mirrored her smile and you set your book down upon your lap. You sat in the far corner of your room on an overly cushioned chair, legs crossed stiffly in front of you. 

“I didn’t expect that. I just planned on wearing one of my old ones to the party.” You hummed and folded your arms over your chest. 

Your mother, as vain as ever, had insisted on an engagement party for Nikolai and Alina, even whilst you were in hiding. You thought it to be in poor taste that a social outing was all she could think of in a time like this, but you truthfully didn’t expect much else of her, either. 

“Yes, well, we have to look our best, don’t we? It’s really a lovely dress. It’s lilac, with lots of pearls. You love pearls.” Your mother said with a proud smile. 

You eyed her and sent her back a half smile of your own. In the months she’d spent without Genya Safin tailoring her, it seemed she had aged years and years. Her skin was thin and wrinkled like old parchment and there were little spots on the backs of her hands. Her eyes seemed to have sunken in a bit, as well, and her hair was greying rapidly, losing the blonde that Genya had so often given her. 

“You’re right. I do love pearls.” You replied emptily and slowly rose from the chair. 

You strode towards your mother and you noticed that when you were within a few feet of her, she took a couple steps back as if you were going to attack her. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. 

You reached out and lifted the lid from the box on your bed and you dropped it aside so that you could pull out the dress. It was a big, heavy piece of clothing, and just when you thought you’d gotten it all out of the box, it kept coming. Finally once you’d pulled the entire gown out of the box, you pushed the box aside and it clattered on your floor. You laid the dress out on your bed and examined it. 

It really was a lovely dress. It was nearly as big as your wedding gown, which had been ridiculously large. The skirt was a lovely shade of lilac with swirls and designs embroidered into the shimmering fabric, embellished with little pearls. The bodice must have been what weighed the dress down so drastically, because it was an intricate piece of work. Pearls and other beads were sewn into the fabric so densely that you could hardly see the purple fabric underneath it, and the sleeves were two dainty little cuffs that would surely rest just off of your shoulders. 

You turned to look at your mother and you blinked a few times. 

“You had this made for me?” You asked incredulously, gaping over at her, “I’m shocked you would give me the time of day.”

Your mother looked a bit guilty and then she shrugged, “Well, it was not my idea, to be honest. It was Nikolai’s. But I was the one that told them which color to use. And to use pearls! Because you love them.”

You gave her a weak smile and then you turned towards her completely. Perhaps this was an olive branch. The beginnings of a bridge that would bring you back into your family’s good graces. 

“Thank you, Mother. Why don’t we go have some tea? Or take a small walk? We still have almost an hour before we have to get ready for the party, and I-“

Your mother’s face became pinched, as if she’d eaten a sour fruit and she held her hand up to silence you. 

“I’m afraid I must decline, and it’s for the best. I’m sure I’ll see you at the party and have my fill of you for the day there.” She said primly and then nodded to the dress, “Anyway, thank Nikolai for that.” She said airily before she gave you a nod and quickly scurried out of your bedroom. 

You pursed your lips at the interaction and you moved to close the door behind her. Once it was closed, you turned back to look at the dress on your bed. You stared down at it with an apoplectic sneer and you let out a little scoff. 

You had half a mind to wear one of your black dresses, just to see what she’d do about it. She’d probably faint and claim that your mind had been completely possessed by the Darkling. You snorted humorlessly and then shook the idea from your head- no matter how appealing. 

A knock sounded at your door and you almost groaned, the desire to be alone consuming you rapidly. You shuffled over to the door listlessly and opened it up to see Nikolai standing in your doorway with a big grin on his lips. He shouldered past you and walked into your bedroom and he let out a low whistle. 

“I see Mother has brought your dress to you. Isn’t it nice?” He asked and looked down at it, examining the gown with an approving nod. 

“It’s pretty. I didn’t expect it.” You answered and watched your brother while he studied the dress. 

“Well, I had her have her seamstress throw something nice together for you. Honestly, with any luck, you’ll completely upstage her. I’d like to see that.” He said and turned towards you, the same grin still on his lips. 

You stared back at him and then shrugged, “She might behead me if I did that.” 

Nikolai waved his hand dismissively and then he clicked his tongue. 

“Try as she might, I do believe you’ve always upstaged her. Even when you were much younger.” He replied and sat down on the edge of your bed. 

“Don’t tell her that.” You mumbled and sat down on the edge of the bed right next to Nikolai. 

Nikolai reached over and gently patted your shoulder and he let out a long sigh. 

“Listen, I know you’ve not been very happy these last few weeks. I won’t pretend to know exactly why but I have theorized a bit,” he began and then he folded his hands in his lap, “I worry about you often. I know things have been difficult for you, but I’m here for you. And you know, if there’s anything I can do for you, I’m always willing to do it. You’re my little sister, you’ve been my best friend since you could walk. I’ll protect you at any cost.” Nikolai finished and then he turned to look at you with a small smile. 

You looked up at him and you let out a little sigh, giving him a slight nod.

“Yeah. I know. And I appreciate it. I appreciate you. Everything is just so… loud, right now. Can’t have a moment of peace, not even when it’s silent.” You murmured, sounding distant in your own ears. 

“Peace isn’t really obtainable. At least, in my experience. But finding comfort in the midst of unrest may be the closest thing to it.” 

You wondered what your brother meant by that. Nikolai spoke two languages; one being charming sarcasm, and the other being riddles. It was always one or the other. This seemed to be another one of his metaphor ridden riddles. 

“Nothing in life is really easy. Happiness doesn’t come easily and neither does comfort. You’re going to lose things, you’re going to get hurt, you’re going to have to make hard decisions and even harder sacrifices, but no matter how hard it gets, you must keep writing your story. You might be miserable doing it and you might feel like you’re fighting a losing war, but whatever. Life goes on.” He finished and then he gave you another smile. A soft, genuine smile. 

You returned his smile, even if you didn’t really mean it. 

“Life goes on.” You repeated and he beamed, patting your knee a couple of times. 

“Indeed it does, little sister.” He said and rose from the edge of your bed. 

“Why don’t you start getting ready for the party?” He suggested and then strode towards your door. He stopped in the doorway though and looked over his shoulder at you. 

“I mean it, y/n. Life goes on.” 

As he left your room, you felt a frown cover your face. 

You weren’t so sure he was right. 

-

When you strode into the party, you were already nearly an hour late. Your dress was heavy and it took you and one of your mother’s servants nearly twenty minutes to get it on. Every moment you were late after that was your own fault. You didn’t relish the idea of a party and you didn’t want to be seen by people.

But of course, eyes would wander and they did. 

When you walked into the large room, chatter seemed to quiet. Not entirely, but enough to make an indication that something was happening, causing heads to turn towards you. 

You squared your shoulders and walked straight into the crowded room, not sparing any of the staring guests a second- or first- glance. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of your curiosity. 

The very small train of your gown dragged rhythmically behind you as you walked through the crowd and shoulders past a few bystanders who didn’t have the mind to move out of the way for you. You set your sights on Nikolai who stood with Vasily and your mother and you walked towards them. You pressed your lips together and did your best to make your expression as stoic and impassive as possible. 

Nikolai was the first to look up at you, and a warm smile covered his face. Vasily looked up at you next and then finally, so did your mother. She regarded you the same way you would regard a particularly sour piece of fruit- with a pinched expression and a particular distaste. 

As you approached them, your eyes traveled over your mother. She looked… aged. Life without a Tailor hadn’t been treating her well. You’d remembered her being so beautiful when you were a child. None of that beauty remained. You wondered if it was simply age that had made her seem so displeasing to look at or if it was the way she had been acting towards you. Whatever it was, it hardly bothered you. 

“There she is! I was wondering when you’d come down!” Nikolai beamed and he plucked a glass of champagne off of a tray carried by a passing waiter and he passed the dainty cup to you. 

You took the glass from his hands gratefully and you took a small sip before you cleared your throat and glanced at your mother through your periphery. She was still staring you down. 

“I was under the impression this was to be a small affair.” You remarked airily. 

Nikolai seemed to think the same thing as you because he nodded and looked around the room with a small bit of disdain on his face. 

“Yes, my thoughts exactly. How many guests did you invite?” He asked, his fingers tapping at his palms. 

Your mother gave a passive, smug smile and she shrugged, “Vasily got a little overzealous with the invites,” she started and then glanced at your eldest brother, “Now, I don’t entirely agree with your Caryeva set, but I admit, that sort lends a certain air of festivity.” She praised idly, giving Vasily an approving smile. 

You scoffed, and you swore you heard Nikolai do the same, but much quieter.  

There was a moment of silence amongst the four of you, and you looked around at each member of your family. Your mother looked at ease, Vasily seemed a bit drunk, and Nikolai’s brow creased with worry. You frowned. 

“Nik, what’s the matter?” you asked, taking a step closer to him. 

“He’s revealed our location to the gamblers and freeloaders he calls friends.” He snapped and then looked at Vasily with an incredulous annoyance.

Vasily looked at Nikolai through his drunkenly heavy eyes and he sneered a bit. 

“That’s rich coming from a pirate.” He remarked, his words slurring ever so slightly, “you make yourself ridicul-“

“The Darkling lives!” Nikolai shot back, cutting Vasily off.  

Your mother placed a dramatic hand over her chest and then she eyed you suspiciously. You rolled your eyes. 

“We are at great risk if our location is compromised! You’d sacrifice us all for your pride and stupidity.” Nikolai continued, his eyes meeting yours. 

“You overreach, you little bastard.” Vasily slurred back, and he clapped a clumsy hand on Nikolai’s shoulder before he turned to face the majority of the crowd, “A toast!” He announced, cockily, before marching off to the front of the room. 

Your mother placed her hand on Nikolai’s arm and gave him a small, apologetic smile before she caught your eye. When your gaze met hers, her smile melted away and all that was left on her face was a resonant disgust. 

You brushed off her glare. You were done feeling sorry for yourself over things you couldn’t possibly control, your mother’s disdain being one of those things. What were you trying to prove anymore? And to whom were you trying to prove anything to? If your mother wanted to scorn you, then you could scorn her right back. You smoothed down your dress and gave her a saccharine smile. 

“Mother, isn’t it too bad that Genya Safin isn’t here? You are in dire need of refreshment.” You cooed. Her brows furrowed together, but you would never know what she would have said, because Vasily boisterously began his toast. 

“I’d like to share some words about my brother,” he began and motioned towards the three of you, “Nikolai!” He crooned and then took a sip of his wine, “Yes, yes, we all know he’s pretentious… condescending… a man of the people. But!” Vasily remarked and you glanced at Nikolai who rolled his eyes warily. 

He glanced at the table of drinks in the corner and then back at you, giving you a small nod towards the table, mouthing ‘let’s go’. You took a few steps towards him while Vasily droned on. 

“He has some hidden qualities, too. His intended should-“

Just as you took your final step towards Nikolai, the sound of shattering glass turned your attention up to the ceiling. The entire domed skylight had collapsed, and thick, smoky tendrils of shadow invaded the room at a rapid pace. As soon as they crashed into the ground, they shifted into humanoid forms. They had no eyes, but mouths with rows of serrated, crooked teeth, and they rushed forth and began to attack everyone in their path. 

Glass fell from the crumbling remains of the skylight above your head and bits of it rained down into your hair. You shook your head rapidly and looked at Nikolai, bewildered. Nikolai looked back at you and he grabbed your arm and pulled you behind him, along with your mother. Gunfire and screams were the only things you could hear besides the occasional snarl from the shadow creatures. Guards were attempting to shoot at the creatures, but the bullets went right through them. The creatures knocked over tables and sent partygoers flying through the air as they moved around the room. Across the room, you saw Vasily dive behind an overturned table and you grasped onto Nikolai’s shoulder. 

“What is this?” You asked, in a panic. You feared you already knew the answer. 

“They must be the nichevo'ya David spoke of. Which means the Darkling must be close by.” Nikolai said sharply, keeping his hand on your arm protectively. You felt faint and you grasped his shoulder tightly to keep from stumbling. 

“Nikolai-“

“We have to get out of here. Most importantly- we have to get you and Alina out of here.” He stated and you looked to the opposite side of the room. Alina and a few of her Grisha all stood behind a table that rested on its side, and all of them were doing what they could to fend off the nichevo'ya. 

Gunfire still rang out around you and Nikolai spun around to look at you, his face pale. 

“Run. Go. Right now. Get out of here. Grab a horse if you must but get out of here. I will find you, I swear it, but get out now. Before the Darkling comes.” Nikolai ordered and you gave him a clumsy nod before you grabbed the skirts of your gown and darted out from behind your brother. You ran along the wall, away from the creatures and the crowd and you had nearly made it to the door when a nichevo'ya materialized in front of you. 

Your eyes widened and before you could scream, the creature lunged at you. You held your arms up defensively and waited for a blow that never came. You wondered if you had died for a split second, but you still heard screams around you. You slowly lowered your arms to see the creature standing in front of you, unmoving. If it had eyes, they would have been fixed on you as you stood before it. You took one step away from it, to gauge whether or not it would stop you, and when it didn’t, you turned on your heel and ran straight out into the hall. You dashed down corridors and around corners before you came to the front doors. You pushed them open ferociously and you barreled out the door, only to come to a skidding halt. 

The grounds were surrounded by Grisha in their brightly colored keftas. You looked at them cautiously, only to realize that you didn’t recognize a single one of them. 

Confused, you watched them all take slow steps closer and closer. They all looked fierce and determined as they moved in on the building you stood in front of, and it took you longer than you cared to admit to realize that these were Aleksander’s Grisha. 

Before you could even turn to run back inside, they parted down the middle and through the crowd strode the man who had played on your mind every single day for the past months on end. 

You stood, frozen in place. You wanted to run, but where could you run to? If you ran inside, you risked death by nichevo'ya, but if you ran anywhere out here, one of the surrounding Grisha would easily stop you. You were trapped. 

He walked towards you with determination and as he got closer you could make out his facial features. His hair was the same; dark and gracefully pushed away from his face. His eyes were the same, too, so dark that they could pass for black. But there was something different about his face now. On the flawless pale skin of his lovely face sat three, thin, ink black scars that ran down his face at an angle. 

From the volcra, you realized, and took a step back as he approached you. 

You tried to stand tall and strong against him, but the second he came within three feet of you, you scurried backwards and held your hand out to stop him. 

“Don’t come any closer.” You forced out, not pleased with how shaky your voice had become. 

He didn’t listen. 

He stepped closer and grabbed your wrist, moving your hand back down to your side. A beautiful, longing smile grew upon his face, as if he had just returned home from the longest of wars and he dropped your wrist, instead taking your chin in his hand. 

“My beautiful wife.” He breathed, staring down at you. You pulled away from him and you shook your head. 

“No. I am no longer your wife.” You spat, backing up against the closed doors behind you. 

For every step you took away from Aleksander, he took one towards you, until you were trapped between him and the door. 

“How curious, then, that you still wear your ring.” He murmured and looked down at your hand. 

You swallowed hard and looked up at him, fear seizing you with a thousand hands. 

“Don’t look at me like that. I am not here to hurt you, my love. I’m here to collect what’s been taken from me.” He cooed and reached out to brush his fingertips across your jaw. 

His touch was so gentle; so loving, and you nearly found yourself instinctively leaning into it. It took all of your willpower to keep your head straight. 

“And what might that be?” You demanded, clasping your hands behind your back. 

He gave you another smile, but this smile was akin to one that you’d give a child after they said something completely outlandish and silly. 

“You, of course. And the Sun Summoner.” He answered, moving his hand away from your face, reluctantly. 

You snorted and stared up into his eyes challengingly, “I’m not an object to be collected.” You retorted and grasped the door handles behind your back. Perhaps if you could get back inside, you could find another way out. Another way away from him. 

As if he expected this from you, he reached out and grabbed onto your wrists and pulled them in front of you, holding them in a tight grip.

“No, of course not. But I have so missed you, and despite what you may say, I think you’ve missed me as well, little Princess.” He murmured and then leaned down to kiss your forehead, keeping your wrists in his grip. 

“I will not go. I will never follow you again.” You stated, shaking your head a few times.

His hands were freezing cold against your skin and the even colder metal of his own wedding ring made you want to shiver. 

“I was afraid you’d say something like that.” He sighed, shaking his head as if he were dealing with a petulant child. 

He turned around and nodded to one of the Grisha behind him, and a man quickly made his way up to the two of you. He wore a bright red kefta and a stony expression. Aleksander looked at you with regret in his dark eyes and then he shook his head once. 

“Let me go, at once.” You whispered and tried to pull away from him. 

“You can come with me willingly or my Heartrender can put you to sleep and make you come with me. I would prefer willingly, my love.” He said softly, brushing his thumbs back and forth across your wrists as he held them. 

You shook your head. 

“I already told you I won’t be coming with you.” You said sternly, staring back into his eyes challengingly. 

He let out a sigh and leaned forward to kiss your cheek once before he dropped your wrists and nodded at his Heartrender. 

“Then I suppose you’ll make me do this the hard way. I’ll see you when you wake, my dear.” He said, as if it pained him so. 

You moved to grab the door again, but before you could, the Heartrender at your husband’s side raised his hands and suddenly you could only see black. 

-

You weren’t sure how much time had passed. You had been slipping in and out of consciousness, though. Unless you had been dreaming. Sometimes you’d see people over you, other times you’d hear muffled conversations, but nothing was clear. 

When you were finally awoken, it was slow. You felt your body waking up first, and your muscles felt stiff and unused. You became vaguely aware of the feeling of fingertips, brushing comfortingly across your face, over your cheekbones, across your jaw, along the bridge of your nose. The action was calming, and you felt blissful, as if you were waking from a peaceful nap.

Only when you opened your eyes, did reality strike you, hard and fast. There was hardly any light in the room you were in. It was dark and it was a bit cold, but you noticed there was a blanket covering you to your shoulders. You laid upon a bed that felt like it had hardly been slept in, and you flickered your gaze over to the side. There Aleksander sat, on the edge of the bed. His calloused fingers were still moving affectionately over your face and a small smile formed on his scarred face. You stared up at him, unable to find words to express your newfound disgust. 

“There she is. There’s my lovely girl.” He purred and he brushed his thumb across your bottom lip before pulling his hand away from your face with a reluctance that you had never seen him use, “I’ve so missed your voice, little love.”

You stared up at him, silent. There was the faint sound of conversation out in the hallway and there were hurried footsteps, and it was the only noise that floated around the two of you for a long time. Your eyes traveled his face. His once perfect skin was now marred with three, black scars. If it wasn’t for the skin that was raised around them, you would’ve thought them to be drawn on. His hair was swept back as always, and he, of course, was dressed in all black. You examined his scars once more and told yourself you were glad he had to suffer, but you were ashamed to feel little aches of sympathy in your chest at the sight of where he had been wounded. 

“Feeling shy, I see.” He commented and then reached down to brush a bit of hair away from your forehead. 

“Not shy,” You found your voice, staring up at him, “I have nothing to say to you.” 

He clicked his tongue with a sharp tsk, “I saved you from certain death and persecution and you’re angry with me? Oh, my love, see sense.” He breathed. 

You slowly sat up, your joints popping and cracking as if you hadn’t moved in years. As much as you hated it, he was still absolutely breathtaking. You’d secretly hoped that the volcra would’ve mauled him beyond repair, but you had no such luck. He still stared at you with those beautiful, dark eyes, and you shifted uncomfortably. 

“I do see sense, and that’s why I have nothing to say to you.” You whispered, shaking your head. 

“Perhaps you’re just a bit embarrassed.”

You scoffed. 

“Embarrassed by what, Aleksander?” 

He smiled. He seemed to relish his name leaving your mouth and you made a mental note not to use it further to deprive him of such satisfaction. 

“Embarrassed that I was right and you were wrong. What did I tell you, little love? I warned you that you would return home to hatred. Did I not?” He asked and gazed over at you, his hands resting on his thighs. 

You looked down at his hands. There was a large, black crater of a scar on the back of his hand and you wondered what had happened there. The veins around this scar were all black, looking poisonous under the skin. You fought back a chill. 

You never answered him, but he let out a soft sigh and he reached out to gently take your chin in his hand. You pulled away and turned your head away from him entirely. 

“Poor girl. You’ve finally had your first taste of persecution. Tell me, how does it feel?” He asked and reached out to grab your chin again. He turned your head towards him carefully and he stared into your eyes, “How lonely has it been? To lose everyone you thought loved you because of their fear? Their judgment?“ he asked. 

You dared to look him in the eyes finally and you wished you hadn’t. Despite his words, his eyes were uncharacteristically soft. He looked at you as if you were something he cherished, something he loved endlessly. You wondered if he was capable of faking that. There was a desperate trace of longing in his gaze and you watched his lips twitch downwards just slightly, a change so subtle that if you were anyone else, you may have missed it. 

“It doesn’t matter.” You finally answered, dropping your gaze away from his. 

He let out a sigh and let go of your chin before he reached out and grasped your hands. His skin was just as cold as you had remembered it to be, if not colder now. You wondered if he felt the icy chill that was his skin. 

“If you had just stayed by my side, you would’ve never felt lonely. I wouldn’t have let you. Not a single day would have gone by where you felt anything less than loved. Adored. Worshiped, even.” He whispered, looking down at your joined hands. Of course you knew that. 

You looked down at your hands, too. 

There was such a stark contrast when you looked down. His hands were scarred and they were strong, with traces of black swimming in the veins just beneath his fair skin. He wore his wedding ring on his finger still, but on the correct finger, whereas you wore yours on your middle finger where it was ill fitting. Your hands were smaller than his, and your skin was unmarked by scars; smooth. You had the hands of someone whose life had been easy. He dropped your hands and he plucked your ring right off of your middle finger before sliding it onto the correct finger, and although you felt you should have, you didn’t stop him and made no move to correct it once he let go. 

You kept your eyes on your hands and he slowly stood up from the bed and let out a small sigh.

“You can live in denial, but not forever. You’ll find it’ll be far easier if you let me in rather than fight me.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on top of your head, “For what it’s worth, I’ve missed you, in every way a person can be missed. I’ve missed your presence in the mornings, I’ve missed your smile, your laugh, even your attitude I’ve found myself missing. I know that deep down, you’ve missed me too. Otherwise you would have rid yourself of that ring long ago.” He observed and then he placed his hand on top of your head, smoothing your hair back. 

“You don’t hate me, you’ve just had your mind filled with the lies of martyrs. You weren’t meant to be a martyr, y/n. You weren’t meant to sacrifice your happiness just because it was the ‘righteous’ thing to do. You were meant to be a queen. Deny that as you may, but I know it to be true, and perhaps somewhere in that pretty little head of yours, you do too.” 

He knelt down at the side of the bed and looked up at you with a soft, understanding smile. He seemed so pleased to be looking at you. 

“I do love you. I will never turn you away. When you’re ready to accept that, I will be here with open arms.” He murmured and placed his hands on his knees as he looked up at you. 

You stared down at him and you shook your head slowly. 

“And what if I never do?”

He smiled, but didn’t say anything. He rose up from his knees and he wandered across the room towards the door. He opened it up and paused before walking out into the hall. 

“I’m a patient man. The word ‘never’ is so wasted on such a mortal girl. You’ll change your mind, and when you do, I’ll be there.” He said softly before exiting the room, leaving you alone in the dark, his words sending a chill through you that you couldn’t get rid of, no matter how far under the blankets you slid. 

-

You had been given free rein of the strange little sanctuary that the Grisha siding with Aleksander had thrown together. It wasn’t very interesting, by any means, and your days passed slowly. Very, very slowly. 

You had yet to see anyone that you knew, though. You recognized a few faces from the Little Palace, but beyond that, it seemed like everyone you knew had either died or taken to the other side. With no David or Genya, or even Ivan around to entertain you, you’d taken to making the acquaintance of an Alkemi boy named Vladim. 

Vladim couldn’t have been very old, perhaps nineteen at the most. He was always tirelessly working on little things in his makeshift laboratory, but when you asked about them, he always answered you the same. 

“I don’t think you’d have much understanding of the subject matter, and alas, I don’t think the Darkling would be very pleased if I discussed it with you.” He would say, almost word for word, every time. 

He wasn’t overly friendly, but you could tell that he appreciated the company in one way or another. 

You had done your best to avoid Aleksander during the day, and you were usually quite successful in that endeavor, but you couldn’t avoid him at night. He didn’t give you your own room, he simply told you that you’d share his and left it at that. Arguing with him would’ve been futile. His skirmish with the Fold and with his newfound shadow warriors left him with a certain roughness that you’d never known him to have before. There was a certain ruggedness to him now, a certain edge that made the hair at the back of your neck stand up. He had always been hungry for power, but now he was ruthless. He had always commanded respect, but now he forced it. He seemed to be slipping into madness, slowly. He used to be a sharp, shining sword, cutting fast and without much pain. Now he was like a worn, serrated knife. It worried you, but you tried to push that down as far as you could. You shouldn’t worry about him. Let him destroy himself, it wasn’t your problem. 

So why did it feel like it was your problem? 

You tried to remind yourself daily that his destruction wasn’t your responsibility and that he was bringing it upon himself, but it became increasingly harder and harder to remember that. 

Every night ended the same, though. 

You’d lay in his bed, as far onto your side as you could possibly get, and you’d always pretend to be asleep when he finally came in. He’d shuffle around the room silently for a while, getting himself ready for bed, and then he’d lay down on his side of the bed. Like clockwork, ten minutes later, he would move towards you as if he were being pulled by strings like a puppet and he’d wrap you in his arms. He would whisper promises to keep you safe in your ear and he would run his fingers through your hair. Murmurs of proclamations of love would also be uttered into your ear, and he would whisper your name as if it were scripture. 

You wondered if he knew that you weren’t really asleep, which led you to wonder if he even cared. 

He would oftentimes press his lips to your temple and stay there for a long time before pulling away. Some nights you would really end up falling asleep in his arms, and other nights you would stay awake and he would eventually let you go and he’d tuck the blankets around your body, just as you liked them. It took you by surprise the first time he did that, because you didn’t expect him to remember such small details. 

Tonight was seemingly not much different than the other nights. His arms were circled around your waist and he had his chin resting on top of your head. He had fallen completely silent and had been for quite a while now, his tender whispers ceasing quite some time ago. You knew better than to believe he had fallen asleep, though. You could see it in his face daily- he didn’t get much sleep. Not anymore. You frowned slightly at the thought and you nearly shook your head, catching yourself at the last second. 

“I’m not a fool enough to believe that you are asleep right now, my love.” His voice was low and you felt his arms tighten around you ever so slightly. 

You didn’t say anything, but you opened your eyes and pursed your lips, biting anxiously at the inside of your cheek. 

“I know perhaps you take me for a fool, though. Maybe you’re right to. I’ve been foolish with you. Lied to you. Treated you like you were a pawn. If I’m being honest with myself and you, though, I should admit that earning your love was my greatest achievement. I don’t think I’ve lost it, not fully, at least, but perhaps my greatest loss has been making you question that love that you had so graciously given me.” He spoke, his voice taking on a strange and sentimental tone. He seemed to think for a moment before he tapped your waist with his thumb, “Have I?”

You blinked a few times, not bothering to look up at his face. You doubted you would’ve seen it, anyway. The room was pitch black. 

“Have you, what?” You finally replied, hands balling into fists as you pressed your nails into your palms. 

“Lost your love?” 

Your brows knitted together and you frowned, “Yes,” you answered immediately, but you were immediately struck with the pain of guilt in your chest and you suddenly shook your head, “I mean, no. No, I don’t think so.” You choked out, “I don’t think you could. Not entirely, and I hate you for that.”

The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them, though you weren’t sure what you regretted more; admitting that you still loved him or admitting that you held contempt towards him for the way you felt. The admission left a sour taste in your mouth, yet you felt as if a hundred weights had been lifted off of your chest. The relief juxtaposed with the sour taste of shame on your tongue was jarring and you pressed your lips together as tightly as you could, as if to create some kind of seal that would prevent you from speaking further. 

He seemed to mull this answer over for a while, staying silent for more than just a few moments. You could picture his eyes, even though you weren’t actively looking into them. When he was lost in thought, they seemed even deeper than they already were, and oftentimes you felt that was an impossible feat. 

Finally, he spoke. 

“I can understand your hatred for the inner conflict you must be faced with. I haven’t exactly made this easy for you.” He replied, his voice calm and completely even, “If I could stop this all right now, I would. But I can’t, y/n. No one is going to look out for the Grisha except for me. Not even Alina Starkov.”

“You don’t know that if you never give her the opportunity to try, Aleksander.” You insisted, voice barely above a whisper. 

“No, but I do. I do know that. She’s too young. She knows nothing of the power she wields and she knows not how to use it, she couldn’t even begin to grasp the importance of power. It’s simply a new toy to her. Something to play with until she tires of the novelty,” his hand traveled along your back as he held you and you felt him take a silent inhale, “I find myself wishing so often that it was you.” He murmured, lips finding your ear. 

You didn’t understand what he meant, so you furrowed your brow together and you shook your head. 

“What do you mean?” 

His lips hovered over your ear and you felt the tip of his nose in your hair, sending unwanted shivers down your arms and over the back of your neck. 

“I would give anything, anything, if it meant you could’ve been my Sun Summoner.” He whispered, his arms tightening around you frantically, as if he were afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t keep you close. And perhaps you might. 

You weren’t sure what to say. You weren’t even sure how to feel. You had always compared yourself to Alina in one way or another during her time at the Little Palace, though you’d never wished her gift upon yourself. You had never even thought to. His words made you feel cold in the very pit of your stomach and you bit down on the inside of your cheek sharply. Alina and Aleksander would go on to make history. They would make legends. The Sun Summoner and the Shadow Summoner. The Sun Saint and the Darkling. In a hundred years, people would pray to beautiful statues of Sankta Alina, Aleksander would be written into Grisha history and Ravkan legend. But in a hundred years for you? You’d be a name on the Lantsov family tree. Always royal, never reigning. Perhaps someone distantly related to you a hundred years from now would make a pitied remark about how Queen Tatiana and King Pyotr the Third married their poor daughter off to some wicked man, but no one could ever confirm it. It was simply oral history. You would be lost to time, whereas time would be lost on them. They’d be living their second lifetime and you would be nothing but bone buried deep in the dirt. You squeezed your eyes shut at the thought and instead of speaking, you shook your head. 

You felt his hand slide up your back and over the back of your neck until it was nestled in the hair at the back of your head, holding you securely against his chest. 

“Not because I wish you were Alina, no. I could never wish for such a thing. I wish it was you that could stand by my side, that it was you that would be my equipollent partner. I wish I didn’t wake at night in a cold sweat at the thought of you being so… mortal. I couldn’t care less if you had the power of the sun at your disposal, I could only care that you lived a hundred years at my side.” He said quietly, his voice quivering at the end of his sentence. 

Of course Aleksander had proclaimed his love for you many times before, but he had never done so in such a manner. You had never even seen him cry, never heard his voice falter.

A shaky breath from his lips drew your eyes upwards. You very slowly pulled your head away from his and you looked up at his face. Though the room was dark and only lit up by the faintest of moonbeams filtering through a crack in the curtains, his eyes were still visible, darker than the dark around you, yet still shining as if they had thousands of stars in them. They sparkled with the threat of unshed tears and before you could stop yourself, you were lifting your hand towards his face. The moment your hand made gentle contact with his cheek, a single tear spilled out over his bottom lash line and rolled down his cheek gracefully. You’d never seen a tear fall gracefully before. He brought his own, scarred hand up and laid it on top of yours, holding your warm palm to his cheek. You could feel the raised skin of his scar on your hand and it was such an odd contrast to the smooth skin surrounding the scars. 

His eyes slowly closed, but he didn’t let your hand move from his face. His breathing was erratic as if he were trying to hold back cries and he moved as close as he could to you without ending up on top of you. 

“Your brother… Alina Starkov… Your mother… Father… none of them can offer you happiness. I can, darling. I can.” He whispered, his voice trembling, and for a moment, he wasn’t the Darkling. He was just a boy named Aleksander who had slowly lost everyone he could have ever cared for. 

“But at what cost, Aleksander?” You asked softly, using all of your strength to enforce an armor around your heart. But you had deployed cracked armor. 

“I don’t care what the cost is. I’d let a thousand men burn, I’d let armies fall, I’d ruin kingdoms and countries alike, I would kill countless if it meant that you would just stay. With me.” He breathed, another small tear escaping from the corner of his eye. 

The sight was a powerful blow to your futile attempt at an armor. 

No. He’s killed so many people for the selfish drive for power, and he hides it underneath the guise of what’s best for Grisha. You couldn’t stay. 

“I don’t wish to see anyone burn. I don’t want armies to fall and counties to fall to ruin, I don’t want you to dedicate death to keeping me by your side, Aleksander. You made your choice and you chose power. I made mine and I chose the right thing. I can’t stay.” You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince, though. You or him?

His palm pressed against the back of your hand and he held it tightly against his face. 

“You are the only light I’ve ever known, the only salvation I’ve ever been given. I’ve watched lives come and I’ve watched them pass, and I find no grief in it. I’ve spent my fair share of time grieving for those I’ve dared to care for and I’ve condemned it, I’ve sworn to not allow myself the luxury of grief again. So tell me why I’ve spent each day that I’ve loved you grieving for someone who has yet to draw their last breath? I grieve the loss of you that has yet to come. I will choose power day in and day out because I will never stop searching for a way, for a power, that can keep me from losing you.” His voice was weak, but it was determined and it was sincere. 

Your mouth fell open just slightly as you listened to him and you very slowly brushed your thumb against the skin underneath his eye. 

His eyes slowly flickered open and he stared down at you, his lips set into a frown. The unshed tears in his eyes and the look of terror and sorrow on his face made him seem much more human than you had ever seen him, likely ever. 

Right now, he was just a man. A man gifted with too much power and bothered- no, burdened- with the threat of everlasting life. He wasn’t the Darkling and he wasn’t a Shadow Summoner. He was Aleksander, and he was trembling underneath your hand. 

“To say that I love you would be so weak and listless, but to find stronger words, I’d have to start making them up. So, at the risk of sounding weak and listless, I love you. To the end of it all, whatever lies beyond that, even.“ he swallowed hard after speaking and you found your own eyes filling with tears. He wasn’t just saying he loved you, he was silently begging you to love him in return. 

His actions and his quest for power wasn’t preferable, and you weren’t even sure if it was forgivable. Maybe it wasn’t, you weren’t sure. Could you find it within your heart to forgive him if he had begged you to? You weren’t sure of that, either. You found it strange how many months ago, it was you that was begging him for love, but now he was the one staring into your eyes, pleading without words. 

It would hurt a lot to choose him again, because eventually you knew that for whatever high you would be on now, it would be a devastating low one day.

But it would hurt just the same to tear yourself out of your husband’s arms once again, this time after hearing him confess all that he had tonight. How could it be possible to love someone yet despise them all the same? He was always able to make you give in, and you resented him for that, but he also was the only one that understood you now. He understood what a fall from grace felt like, what it was like to have an entire nation turn their backs on you, how it felt to lose the faith of everyone you cared about. 

His eyes and his beauty and his soft words always had you making mistakes before now, and you realized that the only way to not make these mistakes was to be far away from him. But you weren’t far away from him right now and you knew that you were bound to make a mistake again, in fact, you were hurtling towards that mistake right now. 

A single word rolled off of his lips:

“Stay.” 

The answer that begged to leave your mouth was antithetical to the decision you had made to run away from him in the first place and you felt guilty. Guilty for wanting him, guilty for not wanting him. To give him the affirmation he and you both wanted was to betray your country and your family. But they’d already betrayed you. You could almost hear Nikolai telling you that two wrongs didn’t make a right and that you were stronger than this. 

But you didn’t think you were. You couldn’t be. 

His fingers slid in between yours as he held your hand to his face and his eyes locked onto yours, daring you to give him the one answer he’d been searching for. 

So you let it roll off your lips, no louder than an exhale:

“Okay.” 

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Oh, Stevie...

Steve Harrington x Reader (Smut)

When your boyfriend comes to you, asking to peg him, you're only happy to comply with his wishes.

Warnings:Anal fingering (M recieving), Pegging, Handjobs, Slightly Sub!Steve. If I missing anything that you want tagged, feel free to shoot me a message!

Word Count:1,372

Masterlist Steve Harrington Masterlist

After reading @slutty-thevampireslayer 's Eddie Pegging fic (which you should totally read because oh my god 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫) and because I'd been kind of wanting to write this for a while, here is my take on a pegging Steve fic

Steve watched you with eager eyes as you slinked towards him, dressed in that matching set of lacy black lingerie that he loved seeing on you, and the fake cock strapped between your legs bobbing as you make your way towards him

This was something that the both of you had talked about for a while. In truth it had been Steve who bought up the idea that sparked the subsequent conversation. Normally it was him who took the lead of things in the bedroom. Not to say that Steve was the dominant one, oh no, because there had been a few times you had reduced him to a whimpering submissive mess just by rocking your hips up and down over him, riding him at your leisure, it’s just that Steve had more experience than you and very often was the one guided you through it.

But one late, lazy evening Steve comes to you, shyly skirting around the subject before finally blurting out his request.

“I want you to peg me, Honey, please..” he breathes out, looking at you with his soft hazel brown eyes under the shaggy mess of his hair.

“Oh Stevie…All you had to do was ask. You know I’d be more than happy to do that with you.” you purr with a smile.

So after many lengthy discussions about boundaries, safe words, and anything else that was a concern, both of you arrived at this point.

The point where you had already worked Steve up with trailing sweet, teasing kisses from his pink lips, down to his chest, letting your lips kiss into the soft thatch of chest hair. Your tongue swirling around each of his nipples, sucking on them one at a time until the perked up from the attention.

Your kisses descend lower and lower down his body before your lips suck a bruising hickey on the small soft pudge of his tummy.

You smirk when you hear him gasp above you. 

“What was that for?” he chuckles breathlessly.

“Know I can never resist you, Stevie..you’re just so biteable..I can’t help myself.” you tell him before letting your tongue sweep over the forming bruise. “Besides, nobody’s gonna see it anyway.”

You offer up your fingers to his lips, looking at him from underneath your lashes.

“Get these nice and wet for me, please, Stevie?” you ask him.

He immediately complies with your request, sucking your dainty fingers between his lips, and letting his tongue swirl around the digits. You pull them out of his mouth, your index and middle fingers, wet and glistening with his spit.

“Gonna use these to open you up a bit, okay Sweetheart?” you tell him, checking in with him as he returns your question with a nod. “Gonna need you to get comfortable for me.”

Steve settles back against the bed, propped up by soft pillows and his feet planted firmly on the mattress.

Your fingers begin to gently massage his hole, keeping the pressure light as you spread the saliva from your fingers around him to lube him up. Rubbing the pads of your fingers of the sensitive skin, just to let him get used to the sensation, 

“Gonna put two fingers inside you now, Stevie?” you say as you slip your inside fingers him.

Steve moans out at the feeling, although your fingers were small, they felt so good as the worked inside him.

“Feeling okay, Sweetheart?” you ask, looking up to him as he huffs out little breaths of pleasure.

“F-feels good..so fuckin’ good..” he gets out between whining moans, reaching between your bodies to roll his heavy balls in his hand. His hard cock laying flushed against his soft tummy, a pearling bead of precum dribbling into his happy trail.

You stretch him open for a little longer, continuing to work your fingers in and out of his hole, before slipping out of him, not without hearing a little cry of desperation falling from your boyfriend’s lips.

“I think you’re ready for me, Sweetheart. What do you think? Want me to fill you up with my cock?” you ask him.

“Y-yes please..want it..want it so bad..please..” Steve begs.

“Alright then, since you asked so nicely.” you tease.

You reach for the small bottle of lube that you keep in the bedside drawer, squirting a generous amount of it in your hand, before coasting your hand up and down the length of the dildo that is strapped to the harness around your hips.

The dildo wasn’t anything grand, modestly sized as agreed by both of you when you picked it out, not wanting to push any limits on your first try of doing something like this.

Taking the weight of it in your hand you slowly begin to guide the rounded tip towards Steve’s hole, pushing forward ever so carefully until the head of the fake cock popped inside him.

Another whimper falls from his lips at the sensation.

“Doing so well for me, Stevie..” you coo, reaching out to hold his hand in his, lacing your fingers with him. “Just a little bit more, okay?” 

You inch more of the dildo inside him, pressing forward with a slow and controlled thrust.

“Feeling okay?” you check in with him

“Yes..Can you move please..fuck..I’ve been dying to feel you like this..please”

At his request, your gentle and controlled thrusts slowly began to turn into more fluid motions as you rocked your hips into him, filling him with the length of cock, before drawing back out again.

It also wasn’t long before his desperate whines turned into the unabashed moans that you were familiar with.

“Is that it, Stevie? Is that the spot?” You tease, making sure to hit against his prostate with every roll of your hips.

A raspy chant of “Yes..Yes..Yes” spills from his lips, as you rut up into him. A scarlet red flush rises from his chest and blooms across the apples of his cheeks as he wriggles his hips, trying to slyly press himself down to meet your thrusts.

You spit into the palm of your hand, to reach down to Steve’s poor neglected cock, where it lay hot and eager and his tummy. Using your spit-slick hand you stroke up and down, making sure to coast your fist over the pulsing vein on the underside of him. Working your fist with a steady and firm grip in tandem with the pace of your thrusts.

“Wanna cum..please.. Want you to make me cum…” he cries, the tightening muscles in his stomach clenching, a tell-tale sign that let you know he was nearing his high.  

“You gonna cum on my cock, huh, Stevie? Am I making you feel good?” you continue to tease him, although with the way he was mewling out his moans you could tell he was loving every second of this.

“Yes, love feeling you filling me with your cock, feels so fucking good..” he babbles out between keening moans.

With your fist pumping over his straining cock, and few more precisely angled thrusts Steve was coming with a cry, his back arching off the bed. 

You work him through his orgasm, his release splattering out in thick white streams, painting his stomach in the evidence of his arousal.

You watch as your boyfriend flops back against the bed, his breath coming out in heavy pants as he tries to come down from his mind-shattering high.

He’s a sight to behold, his freckled features rosy under the light of the bedroom lamp, his hair is a tousled mess and his lips are perfectly parted as he slowly comes back down to earth.

You gently pull out of him, unfastening the straps around you, and helping to clean him up with a warm cloth, before wrapping your arms around him in a loving embrace.

“Thank you so much for doing this with me.” He mumbles, exhaustion heavy in his voice as his eyes flutter to stay open.

“Thank you for trusting me to do this with you” you tell him, kissing his lips with one final kiss, pulling the bed covers over you and falling asleep in each other's arms.

@penguinsandpotterheads @itsfreakingbats @xxhellfirebunnyxx @ali-r3n @loveshotzz @honeyglee

[may--hawk]

killer queen (ineffable remix)

caviar and cigarettes / well-versed in etiquette

Crowley next sees Aziraphale in a seedy speakeasy across the Atlantic, a place positively dripping with sin and low light, the stink of gin rolling up the stairwell and out the door. When he steps inside the haze of perfume and alcohol and sweat and cigarette smoke fill the air, the room dimly lit and full of couples and would-be couples, a great heady miasma of lust. There’s a soft slow low jazz song playing on the piano and a few couples are dancing, or really just holding each other close, barely moving. He’s in America for a few temptations and yes, alright, to take his mind off the fight with the angel some sixty years before. Yes, he’s still bitter. You spend all this time, literal millennia, doing what it is the angel wants, whenever he bats those wide gray eyes, asking for nothing in return, not even recognition, and then when you ask for one thing, for one measly little thing, he throws it all in your face. So yeah, Crowley’s a little bitter. He’ll get over it in a century or so. He usually does. He starts his sidle up to the bar to get a glass of gin, just gin, nothing else, nothing else needed except the taste of juniper in his mouth until he can’t remember his own name, when he sees the angel.

The angel is wearing - well, the angel’s wearing a set of tits, is what she’s wearing, and a tiny little cream-colored beaded dress, very tight, very low in the front, with some fringe covering her knees - oh, like that’s doing any good - and these dainty little heels, and her white hair tucked up, and she looks like, Satan, she looks like a vision of an angel, is what she looks like, she’s fucking jawdropping, and Crowley feels a sudden surge of hurt, no, anger,1 that the angel would go to a place like this without him, on her own volition, even, dressed like that - ? What is she playing at?

And then he sees exactly what she’s playing at, sees a man light her cigarette as she leans closer than she’d ever been to Crowley2 and she leans back and smiles. Crowley stalks over, pulling his hand up from the ground, giving the man somewhere very pressing to be right that exact second, and as Aziraphale turns, frowning, Satan, she’s wearing fucking pearls, of course she’s wearing pearls, Crowley circles behind her, plucks the cigarette from her hand - “Shouldn’t smoke, angel, s’bad for you” - puts it in his own mouth, and inhales deeply. He can feel the dampness of Aziraphale’s mouth, can taste her lipstick. She raises her eyebrows, entirely unimpressed. Very slowly, not taking her eyes off Crowley, she opens her clutch,3 pulls another cigarette out, puts it between her lips. And waits.

Crowley could do it so many ways. He could flick his lighter, could use a match, could light a spark on his finger, could hold her wrist steady as he lit her cigarette for her. Instead, he leans forward, very close, into her orbit, her perfume a heady cloud making him a little faint,4 and Aziraphale leans in too, almost swaying, her eyes half-lidded with too much gin and kohl, and Crowley touches the tips of their cigarettes together, and they both breathe in at the same time, a half-surprised little inhale, breathing each other’s breath. A twisted kiss. Cigarette lit, Aziraphale settles back, breathing deeply, her chest expanding, beads glittering in the dim light like stars, her eyes raking down Crowley’s body in a way that makes him flush.5 “Thank you, Crowley,” she says, low and husky, and then she turns and walks away, and it’s the second time she’s done it in sixty years, except this time she’s much slower about it, and this time her derriere is much more tightly encased, and this time Crowley’s got to go lock himself in the bathroom6 before he can belly up to the bar and drink them all out of gin, which he does. Twice.

1. No, it was hurt. back

2. Except Edinburgh don’t think about Edinburgh - back

3. Christ her fucking hands he’d nearly forgotten Aziraphale’s hands - back

4. Or maybe it’s her décolletage. back

5. Some fifty years later Aziraphale would remark haphazardly that gin always made him decidedly randy, and Crowley would very nearly rupture the space-time continuum to get back to that particular bar on that particular night. back

6. Embarrassingly enough, he’s not even in there for very long, so the human men waiting in line have no reason to complain. back

Read the rest of the mixtape on AO3.

[rattusrattus3]

hello rabbit! love your tutorials, your style is so creative and amazing!! i have a lot of universal monsters oversized tees i love but the fit is not my style anymore, do you have any ideas for making them more coquette/vamp? most inspos i've seen are all about just resizing them into baby tees :-( accesory ideas would be great 2 >:-D

hi! arg sorry this took me so long to reply to! ok i have a few small ideas. the number one for more coquette/vamp is to turn them into a bustier/corset style top, theres lots of tutorials for example this one https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nVg8Jicrkj8 :)

another ideas is to take the graphic and cut it out and put it on something new, whether thats just a more flattering shirt, a cute jacket, on a bag, on a skirt, whatever !

(to make it extra coquette when making it into a patch, you can add lace trim around the edges, add bows, trim with faux pearls, use pastel thrifted fabric as a background, add glitter, or silver beads or star sequins or something ... embroidery also feels very coquette to me so feel free to incorporate that! )

you could also turn them into a sleevless top/tube top, and possibly adding ribbon straps, lace straps, poufy sleeves .... you could go so far as to turn them into a dress by adding a skirt portion at the bottom !

layering goes a long way so dont forget your ruffly shirts or excessive amounts of necklaces, chokers, earrings, hair ribbons, whatever your thing is !

accessory ideas id go for: hair bows/ribbons, dainty chains, blood red details, lace/velvet/leather chokers, dangly earrings, jangly bracelets, gothic details like crosses, rosaries, bats, spiderwebs, black and red gems, silver metals, you get the idea:)

also For accessories i have a video im working on now >:) should be out this weekend but its all about goth/alt/diy/vampire diy jewelery/accessory ideas so i hope thats inspiring to u when it comes out!!!

thanks for the nice question and good luck! hope that helps :)

[rabbitpaws]

Green Zirconia and Freshwater Pearl Flower Gold Fairy Woodland Earrings ✨️

Featuring brass fairies that dangle from leaf charms and Freshwater Pearl flower beads with dainty Green Zirconia pendants. The hooks are gold plated 🧚‍♂️

They hang 3.25 inches

Made with nickel free materials

Buy them here

[snomoscribbles]

Nanui tidbit #2

This man lives to create. He's a craftsman and weaver for a reason. Color coordination, design freedom, new weaving techniques.

He has such a passion for his art. To be friends with nanui is to get constant knick knacks and jewelry. From intricately woven hair pieces to dainty braided bracelets and mats and beaded curtains for decorating your home.

This passion runs deep. Gotta be careful with him around woven pathways and structures though. If he sees something coming unraveled or falling out he will stop whatever he is doing to go fix it. He takes pride in his work.

The quickest way to his heart is crafting materials. Pearls, shells ,uniquely colored stones, teeth of interesting animals, spines of colorful fish, etc.

His favorite shells are Skuka shells and he loves starbeak fins for the colors.

[pearlsgirls]

Mother of Pearl Dainty Handmade Necklace Simple Beaded Necklace Boho Hippie Beaded Necklace Simple Dainty Necklace PRODUCT DESCRIPTION: DAINTY MOTHER OF PEARL BEADED NECKLACE ♥️Mother Of Pearl Beads ♥️ Seethrough String ♥️HONESTLY HANDCRFATED ! All of the jewellry is handcrafted by myself in my little PEARLS&GIRLS studio and not just bought and re-saled :) ♥️PACKED IN BEAUTIFUL BOX🎁 All items will be sent in a beautiful sturdy box with Pearls&Girls logo:) ♥️COMES WITH A GIFT Beautiful jewellery gift with every order! ♥️DISPATCH & DELIVERY TIMES All items are made to order. It usually takes 2-3 working days to prepare and ship an order. ♥️SHIPPING INFORMATION ALL ORDERS SHIP WORLDWIDE FOR FREE ! EUROPE -5 -7working days USA- approx. 7 working days REST OF THE WORLD - Usually arrives in 5-12 business days *Please, upgrade your delivery option if you need tracking for your parcel.* ♥️CONTACT Thank you so much for visiting! please feel free to drop me a message should you have any questions:) ♥️SOCIAL MEDIA For more jewelry and to join my newsletter you can find me on my website www.pearlsandgirls.com ♥️REFUNDS & EXCHANGES I always happy to assist and try my best to make my clients smile! I am offering hassle free refunds & exchanges in case of damaged items

[nurknits]

[shivaniboutique]

Fancy Wedding Party wear Gown

A fancy wedding party, you'll want a gown that exudes elegance and style. Here's a description of a beautiful gown:

Description of a Fancy Wedding Party Wear Gown:

Design: A breathtaking floor-length gown crafted from luxurious silk satin. The gown boasts a classic A-line silhouette, flattering for all body types. The bodice is adorned with intricate hand-beaded lace appliqués, shimmering with delicate pearls and crystals, cascading down from the illusion neckline to the natural waist.

Neckline: The illusion neckline creates an air of sophistication, delicately framing the décolletage with sheer tulle embellished with lace detailing, providing both support and a hint of allure.

Sleeves: Sheer three-quarter sleeves, also adorned with the same exquisite lace appliqués, offer coverage while maintaining a sense of gracefulness. The lace gently hugs the arms, adding a touch of romance to the ensemble.

Waistline: The gown features a defined waistline accentuated by a satin ribbon belt, elegantly cinching the waist for a feminine silhouette. The belt is adorned with a subtle crystal embellishment, adding a hint of sparkle and drawing the eye to the narrowest part of the body.

Skirt: The voluminous skirt cascades into a graceful train, trailing behind the wearer with every step. The satin fabric flows effortlessly, creating a sense of movement and drama as the bride glides across the dance floor.

Back: The back of the gown is equally stunning, with a sheer illusion panel adorned with more intricate lace appliqués. The panel extends into a row of delicate covered buttons, adding a touch of vintage charm and providing a seamless closure.

Color: Available in a range of classic hues such as ivory, champagne, and blush, allowing the bride to select the shade that best complements her skin tone and personal style.

Accessories: Pair this exquisite gown with a cathedral-length veil edged with matching lace for a truly ethereal bridal look. Complete the ensemble with sparkling drop earrings, a dainty bracelet, and a pair of satin heels adorned with crystal embellishments.

This gown is perfect for the bride who desires a timeless yet glamorous look for her wedding day, creating unforgettable moments as she celebrates surrounded by loved ones.

Such a gown would surely make a statement at any fancy wedding party, combining sophistication, romance, and luxury in one stunning ensemble.

[ladylooch]

In an atmosphere of celebration 🥳 Congratulations on the 300

How about Kempe and reader celebrating a dating anniversary? Very romantic! Lots of affection, slow dances... candles 😍

The Way You Look Tonight with Adrian Kempe

A/N: First, Thank you so much!!! Second, you're speaking my language :) But I think you already know that! I went with a wedding anniversary because I wanted it to be so extra! And that is first wedding anniversary category.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Boob grabbing, so fluffy you’re gonna die.

Adrian Kempe has never been one to skimp.

And tonight, on your first wedding anniversary, is no different.

You just arrived back in L.A. to get settled before the season after visiting both of your families. 

After you finished lunch this afternoon, Adrian immediately sent you off to the salon so you could get your highlights and color retouched along with a quick trim. He surprised you with manicure and pedicure appointments at the same time, followed by full hair and make up. When you returned home, you were disappointed to find he was nowhere to be found. Instead, a gorgeous bouquet of deep, red roses with hints of baby breath sat on your counter. A note in his scratchy writing is resting with a corner under the vase.

A year ago today, we made the best decisions of our lives. Thank you for choosing me, beautiful girl. Happy first anniversary. Jag alsker dig.

P.S. Go upstairs. More fun awaits you.

You lean in, savoring the sweet smell of the roses before giddily bounding up the stairs. There, you find a black garment bag along with two Cartier boxes. You bite your lip, grabbing the smaller of the two and popping it open. Gorgeous pearl earrings greet you. They are reminiscent of your grandmother's that you wore for your wedding last year. The other box has a dainty necklace with yours and Adrian's initials lined along the swoop of the chain. A note from him says more initials can be added as your family grows with a wink.

The jewelry is stunning, but the black, beaded, A line dress really gets your butterflies swirling. It's paired with gorgeous ombre red to black, open toe Louboutin heels. You start to get a little sweaty at the price tag of all these items. You're not sure your gift for him of an engraved Rolex is enough. 

With your hair and make up already done by the professionals, you slip into the outfit he arranged for you. You’re pulling up your phone to text him when his picture appears on the screen with a phone call.

“Babe, where are you?” You whine immediately. He chuckles.

“You’ll see soon. A car is coming to pick you up. Get in it and I’ll see you soon.”

“Oooo kidnapping! I like it.” 

“What? No.” He laughs. “But the driver is named Jason. Check that before you get in.”

Jason does indeed pick you up in front of your condo ten minutes later. You chat while threading through California traffic. Eventually, you get to the beach. The sun is starting to set over the ocean, finding an angle that releases the relentless, summer heat. You’re dropped off in front of an expensive seafood restaurant with gorgeous ocean views. Their patio is usually stacked, but tonight it’s set only for two. 

You slowly walk in. The indoor part of the restaurant is busy. 

“Hi, I’m meeting Adrian Kempe.” The host eyes sparkle excitedly.

“Mrs. Kempe! We have been waiting for you.”

“Oh great.”

She leads you outside to where one table is set up. Adrian is out there, leaning against the railing overlooking the beach. He turns when he hears the door, grinning at you and only you. His hair is pulled back into a bun, just how you like it. He’s wearing a white, t-shirt button down, leaving his tattoos exposed for you to run your fingers along after a few glasses of wine.

“You look just as beautiful as a year ago.” He murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips. “Hi. I missed you all day.” He holds your hand as he admires the outfit he picked for you. It looks better than he could have dreamed on your curves.

“Me too. You’re the one who sent me away.” You remind him. Your hands grip the muscles of his back as you sway together for a moment. His lips rest against your head, breathing in the scent of your hair products.

“Was it worth it?”

“Yes. It was amazing. Thank you.”

“Good. You deserve all of that and more.” He leans away to grab you a glass of champagne. You take a small sip after a clink of your glasses in a cheers.  “To us. Forever.”

“Forever.” You agree, tilting your face up for another soft kiss. His hand at the small of your back presses you deeper. You lose a bit of your footing with his insistence of pressing you deeper into him. 

“Sorry.” He murmurs. “Want you closer than that.”

“Am I going to have to sit on your lap during dinner?”

“Yeah and feed me like a baby bird.” He chuckles, kissing your cheek. 

After you both finish your first glass of champagne, you grab another then sit down to start munching on your meal. You start with oysters and shrimp ceviche then move into a light salad with butter lettuce and a lemony dressing. You two take turns feeding bites from each others forks, leaning shoulders into each other and stealing kisses as the waiter takes your starter plates away.

“Thank you.” You murmur, then kiss your husband’s lips again. The privacy on the balcony along with the champagne is making you fee loose. “I hope we can recreate other parts of this night together.”

“There is more at home when we are done.”

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm. Champagne… candles… bubbles in a bath tub… chocolate covered strawberries….” He nibbles on the side of your throat as he says that. You let your head fall towards his, gripping his necklace under his shirt for some grounding. He’s recreating your honeymoon too and you hope what happened in that bed then repeats tonight.

Another glass of champagne is gone. Multiple courses begin to filter to the table including pasta, sushi rolls, crispy okra, and a ribeye with a decadent truffle butter sauce. You share everything, but are both too full to consider any dessert. 

“I have something sweet at home for when we want it.” He assures you when you feel guilty about saying no to chocolate gelato. “How about another glass of champagne though?” 

“Yes!” You wiggle against him as he pours you both another round. 

A recognizable, soft jazz beat begins to play in the outdoor speakers. 

Some day, when I’m awfully low… when the world is cold… I will feel a glow just thinking of you.

Your gaze meets his and you feel yourself tear up, remembering the soft steps of your first dance. It was such a hectic night, but all the noise faded when this song played. Adrian had held you so close, lips on your ear the whole time, signing the lyrics to you as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Dance with me?” He murmurs, kissing along your knuckles hanging off his shoulder. His lips hover on the large wedding rings he gave to you. Their imprint stays in his lips for an additional moment when he pulls away.

“I would love to.” You set your glass on the table and let him lead you to an open area of the patio. He pulls you flush with him, just like he did a year ago, whispering into your ear how incredibly beautiful you are. Then he sings along with Michael Bublé.

“Lovely, never ever change. Keep that breathless charm, won’t you please arrange it? Cause I love you. Just the way you look tonight.” His European accent muddles the words a bit as he sings, making you fall for him again. You pull away, eyebrows pulled low in tender love for your sweet man. 

"Baby." You murmur into his neck. "This is too much. I didn't get-“

"You are worth all of this. I'm so happy. Our life together is better than I could have imagined it being even on our wedding day. I want to spoil you."

“You have. This was all so unexpected and so sweet. I love you.”

“I love you too. Happy anniversary.” 

The first pop of fireworks surprises you as they fly off from the beach into the ocean. Adrian hugs you tighter so you know you are safe against his chest. You tilt your head up to the sky, watching the next one burst in gold across the inky, black sky. 

“Oh my god!” You exclaim. At your wedding, you had wanted to have fireworks, but the dry weather conditions made it a last minute cancellation from the venue. “You got me our fireworks.” Adrian had tried so hard to get them to reconsider because he knew how much you wanted them with sparklers for your guests.

“I told you I would. Sorry they are a year late.”

“No, it’s perfect.” You admit as he transitions behind you, pressing your back to his front so you can watch together. Both your hands fold together over your stomach, admiring the glittering booms he arranged just for you.

It’s late when you get home. But you two are not tired. There is a glow coming from under your bedroom door as you walk down the hall with him. He pushes the door open from behind you, showing you an oasis of candles, soft music, rose petals complimented by a chilled bottle of champagne on the nightstand.

“I should carry you over the threshold. We never did that last year.” 

“Yeah you were too desperate.”

“Me? You were too.” He laughs, swooping you up. “You ripped the buttons off my shirt.” He brings you into the room.

“Still not sorry about it either.” He sets you down on your feet and you look back at him as he unzips your dress.

“Who is breaking into our house and doing these things for us?”

“Don’t worry about it. They’re gone.” He murmurs against your shoulder. He unhooks your small straps from your shoulders, letting the whole dress pool down at your feet. A groan sounds at the sight of your lacy butt cheeks pressing against his zipper. You rub your booty into him more, creating a hardening there. He reaches up to cup your bare breasts, holding them and stroking their tips into hard peaks. You melt into him.

“Bath?”

“Mhm.” You nod. He leads you forward, wanting to feel you brushing against his lap with each step.

You begin to strip him down in the bathroom. His shirt falls to the floor. You lean forward to kiss along his chest to his shoulder where you sink your teeth into him playfully. He chuckles, showing his straight teeth as you work on his belt next. His bottoms fall to the floor as his fingers hook in your panties, working them down your legs. He kisses his way back up your body, then offers you his hand to step into the tub. You both sink in, skin buzzing from the warmth and the night. You both want each other, desperately, but it’s going to be so worth the little bit of wait. 

“I have one last surprise for you.” He says as smooths bubbles across your arm. He points to his tattoo sleeve. Nestled inside the ripples of roses on his right bicep is your first name with his last, the infinity symbol, and the date of your anniversary. You run your finger tips over it, feeling the raised lines of the fresh ink.

“Babe. I love that. And you more than I can put into words right now. Tonight has been… unbelievable.” You sigh, leaning further back. “How is this all real? How are you real?”

“I constantly want to pinch myself that you’re mine.” He whispers. “So many times you could have left. This is not an easy life you have chosen.”

“No, but you make it easy.” You answer honestly. “If this was with anyone else, it would be so hard. But we have an amazing relationship. One I thought only existed in teen fairytales. I’m proud of us. I know we can handle anything as long as it is me and you.”

“Now to start planning next year….” 

“Oh my god.” You laugh, shaking your head at the thought. 

“Maybe no champagne tho…” He trails off. You turn to look at him, knowing this man aches for his baby in you. 

“I would be okay with that.” You admit. He grins, leaning forward to seal the deal with a kiss.

[omniblades-and-stars]

The Last Time (A Game of Cat and Mouse)

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"Bancroft Exports and Logistics Headquarters" read the sign carved from impeccably polished wood, no doubt from Earth. It was mounted on the wall next to a door made of frosted glass and featuring antique bronze hinges and a matching bronze doorknob, shaped humorously like one of Earth's large felines, a lion, if he remembered correctly. He always did. As he reached for the door knob with a green-scaled hand, Thane Krios noted it as something to ask Mr. Bancroft about. It was obviously meant as a statement, the expense of retrofitting a Nos Astra office building for an ancient human door alone meant that it was not simply a design choice.

He straightened the front panel of his expensive suit jacket as he strolled into the lobby. There was a reception desk with a high counter wrapped around the front, topped in the same dark polished wood that the sign at the door was. There was another office door directly to the right of the reception desk, and a cart against the wall with porcelain tea cups hanging from metal hooks. One was missing.

The receptionist was not at their post, it seemed. There was, however, a small sign that read "Press Button for Assistance". He was surprised when there was no audible tone when his carefully filed talon depressed the cool metallic button.

After several seconds of empty silence, a booming, "I don't pay you to stand around and look pretty! Go see who it is, damn it," reverberated from the office behind the door. A feminine voice answered back, the words of her quiet reply were lost to the barrier provided by thick walls. Thane clasped his hands behind his back and waited patiently to be greeted by someone. He was going to enjoy killing Mr. Bancroft later. 

The door cracked open and the first thing out of it was a slender, human, woman's foot. It was clad in a precarious, ruby red high-heeled shoe, a thin strap buckled around a delicately arched ankle. Her legs, shapely and well-toned, were covered by sheer black stockings. A pronounced seam ran up the length of her calf, disappearing behind her knee and beneath the hem of a charcoal gray skirt so tight, it could have been a second skin. 

His eyes traveled up her body, taking in the receptionist as she pushed sideways out of the door. She held a silver tea tray in her delicate, gloved hands, and despite her unreasonably high heels, she moved with well-practiced grace and fluidity. 

A pristine cream colored blouse covered a supple chest, the promising curve of soft flesh hidden beneath whisper thin fabric. A collar buttoned high on her slender throat with dainty, round pearls, covered a scar he knew was there. He was surprised to see her here. She was supposed to be dead.

He killed her.

Bare skin burns hot, pressed and writhing beneath him. A soft moan turns to a surprised gasp and her fingers dig sharp into the muscles of his arms. Silken lips parted against his in a silent plea. Breaths ragged from exertion and the effects of the venom still coursing in her veins. Crimson rivulets wash down the cold metal of his blade. Tears bead at the edges of her clouded, disbelieving eyes, pupils wide, surprised by the betrayal she knew would inevitably come. "Why?" She mouths, unable to speak.

"We can't keep doing this. This is the last time," he whispers, and tenderly brushes wisps of dark hair from her sweat-dewed cheek. Tears that are not hers fall, mingling with the ones sliding over her skin and into the hair tangled on the pillow below her. Her grip on his arms falters as she grows weak. He leaves her alone to die in a Presidium hotel room, disquieted and regretful.

It had been too difficult to stay. He should have known she would pull through. She was stubborn, tenacious.

Beautiful, precious.

And above all, a devious, deadly viper.

But why was it relief that he felt to see her again?

Familiar honey-colored eyes glared at him as she turned to greet him. She drew the plush flesh of her burgundy lip in between her teeth, seductive and no doubt a sign of the anger she felt at the sight of him.

The anger burning in her wide, clear eyes disappeared in a flash, as though it had never existed. A wide smile took its place, creasing the corners of her eyes, and she broke her silence by proclaiming, "Oh, you must be the security consultant here to meet with the board. I am so sorry, how do you pronounce your name, Mister…" Her voice was soft, dripping with syrupy cheer. Her head cocked slightly to the side quizzically, a convincing charade played out for no one but the two of them. 

"Tuek. Rumi Tuek. It is a pleasure to meet you. Though, I am afraid that I do not know your name," he said in reply. In this, he told no lie. No living person knew her true name. Her names shifted like the crashing tides of the sea.

"Julia Tophana," she answered cheerfully and bravely turned her back on him to set the tray on top of the cart. "When I first saw your name on the appointment list this week, I assumed it must have been a salarian name," she lied easily, putting on a breathy, airy voice that he knew very well was an act. She continued putting the pieces of the tea service away with gloved hands as she filled the silence with trite chatter. "I thought, 'Surely it couldn't be a drell name, there are so few to be seen away from Kahje.' But what do I know? Mr. Bancroft always says, 'I didn't hire you for your brains, Jules.'"

How long had she been working as the man’s secretary just to murder him?

She loved the long game.

Julia turned and flashed a charming smile at him, holding a stained tea cup in her left hand. "He underestimates me. They always pay for underestimating me. Don't they?" Thane's hand ghosted over his abdomen, where the memory of her blade made itself known. She started this destructive little game of theirs.

She cries out for help as his target tries to pull her into a filthy alley, one of so many on this part of Omega. He runs to help this stranger, a young, human woman out for a jog. A gunshot echoes out of the alley, and the woman's screams stop.

Too late, he fears. But as he turns around the abandoned building at the entrance to the alley, he sees her standing hunched over a body, hands gripping the pistol like iron. She holds it like it is both her only lifeline and the most terrifying thing in the galaxy. Like she has never fired it before.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! I … I … was so scared! I didn't … oh God, what did I do?" Her cries are shrill, panicked, she is nearly hyperventilating. Her hands shake and tears streak over the gentle curve of her cheeks. She looks up at him with large, pleading, amber eyes, and drops the pistol on the ground right before she heaves and vomits all over her lavender running shoes.

"Please, let me help you get cleaned up," he offers quietly as he approaches. She clutches his hands with her own trembling fingers and allows him to lead her away. She tells him her name is Artemis, tells him about how she ended up on Omega, and how lonely it is living on that horrible station.

It's hours later and they are still together, she's pressed against him, hot and needy. Her kisses taste like peppermint toothpaste. "It was so easy. This is the last time you'll see me, see anything," she whispers against his lips. Cold metal bites into his skin, just below his lung and it twists as she pushes him harder against the wall. Her strength is surprising. Too late he realizes that she is not just an innocent woman out for an evening run. The pain forces a groan coursing up his throat. He can feel the blade scraping through his ribs, feel it pierce through the other side. "I don't do competition," she explains and strokes his cheek with a soft hand, now coated in emerald blood. She simply walks away after, leaving her blade, and him, pinned to the wall. It is the kind of folding blade engineered by and for killers, expensive and easily hidden.

The truth of the matter was that she was a small, beautiful woman blessed with large, doe eyes, and perfect, bow shaped lips. Traits that she carefully wielded to her advantage at every available opportunity. Including here, in this moment, where he was her only audience. She was like the sirens of Earth’s ancient mythology, and he too often found himself ensnared by her song.

Arashu protect me, Amonkira guide me, and Kalahira, please take this damnable woman to the darkest, coldest depths of your oceans.

She brought the cup down onto the hard surface of the desk, shattering it with purpose. "Oops! How clumsy of me!" She brushed the shards into the trash can, and in a smooth motion removed the gloves from her hands and deposited them into the receptacle after, careful not to touch the outside material with her bare fingers.

The gloves must have cost a fortune. They appeared to be made of real animal skin, unlike the synthetic leather worn by most. Even in their line of work. 

She'd always been one for flair, even if only for her own sake.

His eyes followed the dexterous lines of slender fingers, recalling the feeling of them tracing tender lines over the ridges of his scales, the feel as they dug into his flesh as she tried to tear his grip from her throat. With a raised brow, he started to ask, “Mr. Bancroft, is he-”

“Dead? He is, but he doesn’t know it yet,” The Shepherd responded while she checked the watch set into a dainty silver band around her wrist. “He will have a “sudden” stroke in approximately four hours.”

Of course, poison. 

One of her favorite methods. She had always been one for a more personal approach. She liked to get in close, get to know the target. She loved to play games, like a cat toying with a mouse that didn't know her claws were already piercing its skin. Until it was much, much too late.

She always played games. 

Thane's lips curled into a disapproving grimace. He despised that she got to Bancroft first.

He despised that she waited until she knew he would be here to do it. This entire charade, this whole show was for his benefit alone. 

It was payback. It was his turn to be the mouse, it seemed. It was probably no less than he deserved.

Deserved or not, he would not let her win.

Her clean up finished, The Shepherd picked up a datapad and waved for him to follow her into the curving hallway. “This way, Mr. Tuek. The board meets on the next floor up, accessible only by the interior elevator.” She strode in front of him, the long curve of her legs accented by the pointed heel of her shoe. Absently, she brushed a long dark lock of hair that had fallen loose from her bun, held together by shining metal sticks, behind her ear. It was much longer than their last meeting.

“I like what you’ve done with your hair, Ms. Tophana. It is a shame that I will kill you before I get to enjoy it,” he whispered in her ear as they walked past the office workers diligently working at their desks in the open office space nested behind the reception lobby.

“I like the piercings you have there on the ridge above your frill, those are new. I will take great pleasure in tearing them from your smug face right before I end you,” she retorted while looking straight ahead. Her mouth curled up, confidence hidden in the upturned corner of her lips. "This is the last time, Krios," she whispered hotly.

"You are sure of this? You have yet to kill me, Shepherd," he reminded her and placed a gentle, threatening hand at the small of her back. The silken fabric of her blouse slid pleasantly over his scales. 

Their walk through the office came to a halt at the elevator, tucked into a hall filled with more office spaces. The Shepherd turned to face him as she pressed the call button for the lift. "It will either be me or you this time. To the death, once and for all. I'm not leaving this building without your life."

The elevator arrived with a chime, and the door slid open. "Then you will not leave this building," he answered emphatically and stepped into the elevator.

The Shepherd pressed her arm across the opening to prevent the door from sliding closed. She leaned in, passing the datapad to him, her lips ghosted dangerously close to his cheek, her breath hot on his skin, stirring heat deep within him. Her hair smelled like honeysuckle. It always smelled like honeysuckle. "You make mistakes when you underestimate me. Don't make it easy for me," she whispered. Suddenly, she pulled back, "You'll understand why I won't be joining you in the elevator. The boardroom is directly to your right, through the preposterous double doors. You can't miss it." 

She had the audacity to wiggle her fingers at him as though she were waving goodbye to a friend as the door slid shut. 

He looked down at the datapad and turned the screen on. Thane didn't know whether to be greatly amused or greatly irritated by the image that greeted him:

"A Game of Cat and Mouse" written out in the flowing script he knew to be hers, followed by a humorous drawing of a cat with human hair styled just like hers. And pinned beneath her feline paws, a mouse with green and black scales.

Hiding in an office suite after his meeting, now entirely pointless due to Bancroft's impending death, had concluded was a simple matter. It was easy enough to duck into the office of some executive who was almost certainly on vacation, and simply wait until everyone who was not The Shepherd left. By the time the work day drew to a close, he found himself pondering the pendulous motion of the Newton’s Cradle decorating the large wooden desk in his hiding office.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Cla-

“We’re alone now, Krios. You can come out of hiding,” she shouted down the hall from her roost in the lobby.

As he walked silently down the hall, he removed his suit jacket, slinging it over his shoulder and cuffing his shirt sleeves at his forearms. When he rounded the hall into the lobby, she was standing with her back to him. Her arms were raised, the mass of her hair held tightly in her fist as she began to wrap it around her hand and tie it more suitably to the base of her skull. The two decorative sticks were laid on the counter, perfectly symmetrical to one another.

“That’s close enough, Thane. Rules first,” she said firmly without turning to him. She grabbed one of the sticks and popped the bottom tip off of it, revealing a very fine sharp point. She leaned to the side and pulled the hem of her skirt taut in her fingers. The Shepherd drove the point into the stretched fabric and then pulled it. The organic fibers parted noisily up the side of her leg, up to the leather belt fastened around her thigh, just above where her stockings came to an end, teasing him.

Thane drew his gaze back to her hair. Her hair was safe, it was drawn up messily in a simple elastic band, and was quite possibly the only part of this that wasn't a performance. “I am listening, Shepherd,” he confirmed. She paused, and almost imperceptibly shivered before leaning to tear the other side of her skirt.

Muscle and bone shifts beneath the tan skin of her back as she undulates. Her back is a star-chart, made up of tiny constellations of freckles and scars. Bruises blooming purple and blue prove the background of the galaxy mapped out between her shoulder blades and beyond. He props himself up on one hand before gently running a short talon over a long jagged scar just below her shoulder blade.

"This one?" He asks, breaking the silence. Her skin pebbles beneath his touch, goosebumps, she calls them. She shivers as his finger trails across her back.

"From the time I killed an elcor diplomat," she says through heavy, panting breaths. "Didn't think he'd be sneaky enough to hide a knife." She is lying, a preposterous lie at that. He has asked her about it before. The last time, it was from a krogan battlemaster's pet varren. He is fairly certain it is a scar from a turian's unfiled talon.

He moves again to sit up completely, and her back arches to accommodate him. His left hand circles around her body, tracing gentle lines over her skin, admiring the bumps that form in its wake, but only for a moment. He presses his other hand around the base of her throat, he can feel the tendons shift as she swallows and moves, and the beat of her heart, fast and strong. He can feel another line, just under her breast. "And what of this one?" He asks with his lips pressed against her neck, he can taste the salt of her sweat.

He knows the answer. He put it there. 

They are moving in tandem, languid, and unhurried, savoring this beautiful charade, awash in blinding pleasures. This time, they started as enemies and ended as lovers. He much prefers it this way than the other. Tonight, she is sweet … by the gods is she sweet. Her hair smells of honeysuckle, and the softest sounds drip like nectar from her lips. And he is an addict for them. He can almost imagine that she isn't like a poison to him, or him a sharpened knife to her.

"I tripped and fell into that one. It was an accident, really," she says with a smile in her voice. "Dropped my guard, for the last time," she explains and lies and tells the truth all in the same sentence, through the same panting breaths. He can't explain why he finds these little, unnecessary lies so charming, so enrapturing, but he does.

He is caught in her web, and he climbs further in of his own volition.

"No guns, no poison, no omni-tools, and no warp fields. Agreed?" The Shepherd rolled her shoulders back and stretched her neck, the elongated curve of it far too tempting. The very edge of the silvering scar peaked over the edge of her collar.

"Agreed."

She stood on one leg and pulled her foot up behind her, stretching her leg and rolling her ankle. She was still wearing those impractical, ridiculous, attractive shoes. "Good, any additions you'd like to make?" She continued her stretching as though she were preparing to go on a run,  and he was not a professional assassin ready to attack.

"I would appreciate it if you did not use your biotics to pull my central nervous system apart this time," he requested with a smile. One encounter with her biotics had left him twitching and blinking sporadically for weeks. "I believe that is a fair exchange in return for not using mine to rip you apart from the outside."

"Oh, I hate when you make a good point. Fine. Questions?" She asked as she turned to face him. He had expected to see her cocky smile, or a demure smirk. Maybe even a deep, hateful scowl. 

But her lips were pressed in a hard line, and her eyes were bloodshot, and lined harshly red at the edges. Had she been crying? Was she frightened?

Or was this a part of her game? He could never tell with her. It could have been another of her little lies. Even still, it gave him pause, tightened a knot in his gut. 

Thane shook his head and tried to push off his reservations. He was in her snare, he knew. He tossed his jacket to one of the small chairs in the lobby and clasped his hands behind his back. "Who hired you to kill Bancroft?" 

He was merely curious, very few people earned having more than one assassination plot against them.

"His wife. You?"

"His son," he answered with a smile. Even fewer people were so hated by their families that they would independently hire someone to kill them. "Do you have any questions for me?"

The Shepherd cocked her head and furrowed her brow. Her question fell from her lips quietly and without preamble, and it detonated like a hydrogen bomb, "If I die tonight, will you mourn me? There isn’t anyone else." She fumbled her words and hastened to add, "Who would even notice, much less care if I die, I mean."

The aftershock rolled into him and sent blood thundering through his chest. "Yes, I mourn you every time, " he answered sincerely and before he could grasp the magnitude of his own words. "Shepherd, if Kalahira calls me to the sea tonight, will you mourn for me?"

"Yes. Every time."

They had killed each other, or tried to anyways, far too many times.

The seconds that passed before either of them moved crackled with electricity. The only warning he had before The Shepherd leapt at him was the flaring of her nostrils. She held the slender stick in her hand like a blade as she pushed off the ground without a sound. He threw his left arm up and pushed the blade away with his forearm, and curled his right fist up towards her ribs.

Her body bowed out of the way of his strike, and stepped in towards him. She hooked her foot around his ankle and pulled him off-balance. Her elbow connected with his collarbone sending a sharp pain shooting through his neck and shoulder. Just as the tiny little blade made its way to his chest, he thrust the flat his hand up. The air around his body ignited cerulean blue, and the blade struck the barrier and snapped. 

The Shepherd stumbled backwards, dropping the now useless implement to the ground. "Shit, I hate it when you do that," she grumbled and adjusted her stance again. 

He pressed his hand into his shoulder and rolled it, stretching out the muscle. "You know, you possess the same skill? It might be useful for keeping much more of your blood inside of your body."

Her small nose crinkled up before she smirked, "That your professional opinion, since you're so good at freeing me of mine?"

"Deserved, although the same could be said for you of mine," he retorted right before advancing on her. They fought. Fists, hands, feet, all moving with blinding speed and precision. He pressed hard against her, and she took steps back, all the while blocking quick strikes and narrowly avoiding getting caught in his grasp.

She came to a stop with her back pressed against the reception counter. The Shepherd reached behind her without looking away from him, and snatched the other hair pin up, releasing the pointed tip hidden under a small metallic cap. She was quick, and aimed the small weapon for his neck.

Thane wrapped one hand around her wrist, and pulled the implement free with the other. He didn’t hesitate and drove it into her side, earning a snarling hiss from the woman.

He’d always been faster than her.

The Shepherd struck him hard in the chest with her outstretched palm, and a concentrated blast of energy followed it a fraction of a second later. Indigo light flared from beneath her hand and he was pushed back across the room, knocking the air from his lungs, and his body to the floor. She pulled the weapon from her side with a grunt, vermillion spreading across the thin fabric of her punctured shirt.

She closed the gap between them with a short run. She raised her foot to bring it down hard on his chest. Thane shifted and rolled away just as she brought her foot down, throwing her off balance. He struck her other foot with a blunt kick, bringing her down to his level.

“Fuck!” she shouted as she crashed to her hands and knees. Immediately, she began to crawl away, working her way back up to crouching, trying to stand again.

Until he grabbed her around the ankle and began to pull her back towards him. “No you don’t,” he grunted as he dragged her thrashing body, preventing her escape. “Why do you wear these shoes, Shepherd? They are quite impractical for walking, much less a fight.”

The Shepherd stopped thrashing and allowed him to pull her nearer while answering, “Have you seen what they do for my legs and my ass?” He had, he could see it right now. “Besides, they serve a function.” She pushed her hands up under her body and flipped herself onto her back. She drove the hard, narrow point of her heel hard into the musculature just below his left shoulder.

He growled and nearly bit his tongue. 

Evil, demon of a woman. 

The stiletto ground against sinew and bone, the pain sending a flash of white static through his vision. He dropped his grip on her leg, and groaned as she pulled her foot free from his shoulder, centimeter by visceral centimeter.

The woman scurried away, standing and disappearing around the corner in the hall at dead run. 

He stood and tested his shoulder, it seemed that she managed not to tear any ligaments or tendons. He could move through the pain. Thane darted off after her, “Running away? That is very unlike you.”

“No … ugh … just looking for a change of scenery,” he heard her breathless and grunting reply from down the hall heading towards the elevator. As he neared the hall, he saw her forcing the doors open and pulling herself up and into the empty elevator shaft. He followed after, fully expecting her to be waiting at the next floor to push him to his death down the shaft.

But she was not there.

Instead, a small ceramic saucer came flying at him, a projectile sent from inside of the truly ridiculous, large double doors leading into the boardroom. He ducked below it, but didn't see the next saucer, until it struck him right in the side of the head. The ceramic shattered against his scales, and he could feel the stinging heat of blood gathering on small cuts.

The Shepherd was standing on the board room table, an enormous expanse of wood cut from a singular tree, stained and sealed with resin. She pulled her foot back and kicked a holo-conference terminal, sending it sailing towards him. Thane leaned to the side, easily dodging the awkward projectile.

He balled up his fist and pulled it back, gathering biotic energy before releasing it. It sailed into her and sent her sprawling to the surface of the table. Paper, more saucers, and a datapad or two went scattering out from under her fall. He jumped onto the table, rapidly closing the distance. 

She crossed her ankles around one of his legs, pulling him to the surface of the table. Their fight turned into something more akin to a schoolyard brawl. They traded sloppy, awkward blows, rolling back and forth on the broad meeting room table.

Suddenly, she had him pinned, pressing hard into the wound on his shoulder while she reached for the belt secured around her leg.

Thane wrapped his right hand over her face and pushed her head back hard, and grabbed her wrist with his other hand as she attempted to stab him with the knife that had been hidden on the inside of her thigh. He pushed up while she pushed down. She shifted her head and snapped her teeth around the base of his thumb hard enough to draw blood.

He bared his teeth at her and growled. Thane shifted his weight and wrapped his leg over her hip, with her knife-wielding hand still held firmly in his grip, he pulled her down close just before rolling over her. He sat fully on her abdomen, preventing her from rolling and thrashing.

She clawed at his throat with her free hand, curses quickly turned to animalistic cries as she struggled to keep her grip on her precious little knife. Much of her hair had come loose, splayed out in messy tangles around her head and cheeks. Blood seeped from a bite mark on her lip and her eyes burned with fury, and perhaps, fear.

Thane wrenched the knife from her hand and threw it off to the side. It hit the tiled floor with a sharp, metallic crack, but was immediately forgotten as the woman returned to clawing, scratching and hitting him with every ounce of energy she could muster. And it did hurt. He wrapped his hands around her slender wrists with crushing strength. She let out a guttural cry and twisted at the abdomen, trying to free herself. Her legs scrambled to find purchase on the table and push him up from on top of her, but all she accomplished was scraping deep ruts into the resin coating on the wood.

He gathered her wrists in one hand and brought them down hard and awkwardly just above her head. He brought his other hand to her throat, the buttons of her collar long since pulled free during their struggle, and he paused.

Beneath his fingers, the smooth, but too long line of the scar taunted him. It was thin, almost surgical in its precision, but cruel. His cruelty, not hers. 

His heart skipped while hers thundered beneath his ghosting touch. Her chest rose and fell so rapidly, she was on the verge of hyperventilating. Genuinely.

The Shepherd looked up at him with those wide, terrified eyes of hers. She let her head fall back to the tabletop, exhaled, and squeezed her eyes shut. “Just do it, Thane. You win. Better this way, wouldn't want it to be anyone else.”  Silent tears rolled from the corners of her eyes. “The last time, right?” she asked with a choked, pitiful laugh.

"No," he said, frozen in place with just the barest contact with her skin.

Her breath hitched and her eyes flew open. Impossibly, her heart began to beat faster, breaths came out in short, fast bursts from her nose. "What? Fuck, don't drag this out!” She cried out. “Just snap my neck, or shit, strangle me. Plea-"

Her confused protestations were silenced when his lips covered hers in a bruising, searing kiss. She gasped and he released her hands. Just as he was pulling back to ask her if that was alright, she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and brought him back to her lips.

In seconds they were consumed by each other, psychological games, anger and violence all but forgotten in the blinding heat of raw, pent up desire. The way she moved and how they were suddenly undressed was dizzying. His memories of the softness of her skin and sweet melody of her voice could never compare to the satin plush of her thighs gripping his waist, or the sounds that tumbled from her mouth.

By the gods, the sounds she made. They were healing waters from the wellspring of her lips. They were quiet, keening mewls, breathy gasps, and those hushed moans pressed against his lips like mumbled prayers. And oh, the way she whined when his teeth scraped against the delicate curve of her throat. He was drunk on the way she breathed his name with muted fervor.

His world turned upside down, and the cool surface of the table met his back. Loose tendrils of her hair brushed his scales as she moved over him. Her head tipped back and her lips parted, forming the perfect silhouette of ecstasy. The muscles in her stomach slithered and writhed with the hypnotic rhythm beneath his hands.  

He was lost in the intoxicating, feverish warmth of her. 

It crested, they existed on the edge of a corona, just before falling over the edge into the crushing gravity, and all-consuming, plasmic bliss. It surged through him like an electric shock and stole his breath, made his fingers tingle like her skin held a static charge.

She collapsed on top of him, the full weight of her small body pushing what little air was held in his lungs out with a groan. The Shepherd laughed, breathless but musical. “It happened again,” she muttered against his chest.

Thane wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight to him and carding his hand into her hair, and drawing gentle circles between her shoulders with the other. She shivered, goosebumps rising beneath carefully filed talons. Her fingers traced lines over the soft ridges of his neck. He stared up at the ceiling above them, struggling to control the surge of confused emotion mounting inside of him. “It did,” he agreed quietly. “Will you tell me your name?”

He could feel her muscles tense, and her shoulder blades drew close together before she released the tension with a sad sigh. “No,” she started and then hesitated. “My real name belongs to someone I’m not anymore. Call me Sophie, always liked that one.”

“Sophie,” he repeated into her flower scented hair.

“There isn’t anyone else. To love or to hate me,” she said suddenly, somehow disarming him again.

“You have me,” it rolled off of his lips too easily. She did that to him, pulled his guard away and rendered him loose with his affections and tongue.

She’d probably try to kill him right now. Tear him apart with biotics, or reveal that she’d poisoned some innocuous part of the office that he touched. Maybe that absurd lion’s head door knob at the entrance to the office. Maybe even the heel of her ridiculous shoe. That’s how this usually went.

Instead, she raised her head and looked at him with tired, quizzical eyes, “To love, or to hate me?”

“Perhaps, it is both,” he responded honestly. Maybe the gods knew, because he certainly did not.

“We can figure it out the next last time,” she said with a small smirk playing at the corner of her bruised, cut and perfect lips. “Assuming we don’t kill each other first.”

He returned her smile with one of his own. “I would not want it to be anyone else.”